my ears are still ringing and i ache all over but i would do it all over again if i could

hush, hush (m.) | 01

bangtan + fuckboy au

genre: smut (!!!) | angst (!!!) | oral sex | hate fuck | closet sex

word count: 4.4k

Every school has its golden couple. You know, they’re the pair that will stay together all through college, eventually, get married, and live happily ever after in a large house with their equally as large amount of children. You’ve seen them in the courtyard - hands clasped together in a perfect fit - you’ve seen them in your classes - effortlessly answering questions while sliding each other knowing looks - and you’ve definitely seen them at all the parties - before they head upstairs to one of the bedrooms, of course.

You know them. Everybody knows them. How could you not know them? Their lives were perfect, their friends were perfect, and their looks were perfect. They are perfect, popular, admired, and most importantly, in love.

Or at least, they were.

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Originally posted by mikeygcsgiggle

word count: 2.2k

warnings: swearing & smut ;)

summary: you and Luke are dorm mates and when you strut around the dorm in barely anything he can’t help himself anymore. 

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Originally posted by nodenyingheisgolden

Prompt request by anon: “Keep the heels on, baby. Just the heels, though.”

Being pushed up against the door and panting hot breath into her lover’s mouth was the best part of that night.

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Talk Me Down (Billy Hargrove x Reader)

Title: Talk Me Down

Warnings: mentions of abuse, tears, sad, slight angst

A/N: Based off of Troye Sivan’s song Talk Me Down. I’ve got conflicted feelings for Billy. I don’t like how he is such an ass (he’s also racist tbh. unless he heard about Lucas’ involvement in all the crap with Hawkins Lab, that’s the only other explanation), but I sympathize with him and understand him. I want to protect him and hug him and listen to him rant and vent and let out his emotions.

Originally posted by bigbadroman

I wanna sleep next to you, but that’s all I wanna do right now.
And I wanna come home to you, but home is just a room full of my safest sounds.

Hawkins High School was buzzing with teenagers, all excited for the weekend. You were one of them. It was the weekend, you had no homework, and surprisingly, you had plans.

Somehow, you found yourself being friends with a bully. Not publicly, at least. It would make people think even less of Billy, and you knew that wasn’t going to be good for him. Nobody at school knew what went on in Billy’s home life except for you. You’d often find yourself slowly opening your window, praying it wouldn’t wake up anyone else in the house. Billy would do his best to stay quiet, climbing into your bedroom. His eyes would be rimmed red, wet tears leaving trails down his face. 

You’d settle back into bed, sliding under the covers. You’d hold them up, so he could slide in next to you. His arms would wrap around you and yours would do the same. He’d rest his head in the crook of your neck and let out the rest of his tears, you just ran your fingers through his hair and held him. He found solace, comfort, and care in your arms- something he didn’t have much experience with.

Cause you know that I can’t trust myself with my 3 A.M. shadow,
I’d rather fuel a fantasy than deal with this alone.

Billy found himself thinking of you often. Your kindheartedness and your compassion was most evident. He needed someone like that in his life, especially right now. His left cheek stung, and a small cut was evident on his cheek bone. The crimson colors on the clock seemed to shout the time at him, 3:04 a.m.

Tears trailed down his cheeks, hot and salty. It made his left cheek sting even more and the cut on his right cheek began to burn. His eyes closed, his mind drifting to you. Your sweet smile, your kind eyes, your guiding light, you. You were the person that brought Billy back to earth, the one who made him calm and rational. 

I wanna sleep next to you, 
And that’s all I wanna do right now.
So come over now, and talk me down.

All it took was a phone call and you were on your way to Billy’s house. The shrill ring woke up your mom, and you didn’t feel the need to lie. So you told her the truth.

“A friend of mine, they don’t have the best home life. They just need a friend right now. I’ll be home in the morning.” 

Your concerned eyes and honest words made your mother smile at you. “Be safe.” she gave a single nod, and you grabbed a jacket, heading out the front door.

The window to Billy’s room was open, a welcome sign. So you climbed in as quietly as you could, seeing him curled up into a ball in the corner of his room. You slipped off your shoes, tiptoeing over to him. “Hey, Billy.” you whispered softly, his quiet sobs filling your ears. You kneeled down in front of him, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s me, it’s Y/N.” 

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. He just needed a friend, somebody in his life who he knew would never hurt him terribly.

I wanna hold hands with you
But that’s all I wanna do right now

Your eyes locked with Billy’s in the school hallway. You smiled at him and he gave you a half-second smile back. It made you heart break, the way Billy ignored you at school. You understood the need to uphold a reputation. You didn’t understand his constant need to be an asshole, although after meeting his father, you did. You understood why you and Billy had to keep your distance from each other at school. But you didn’t like it. You wanted to hold his hand, and kiss him on the cheek. You were developing a crush, and you knew it wouldn’t end well for you. Not in the slightest. 

But he needed you. Or at least you thought.

And I wanna get close to you
‘Cause your hands and lips still know their way around, oh
And I know I like to draw at night, when it starts to get surreal

The way she hung on Billy made your heart drop into stomach. How her arms wrapped around his waist, looking up at him like he was the world. The hot, sexy world.  And he was. She looked and him with lust and he looked at her the same way. 

Billy had found somebody else to calm him down, to spend their nights with him. He found somebody else. Somebody that wasn’t you. 

You must have just been a shock blanket. You know, like the ones they keep in ambulances and put over people’s shoulders when they’re in a state of shock or have just gone through something possibly traumatic? That’s what you were. You were used and then carelessly tossed to the side. You weren’t really sure what purpose you served, but you served one. 

And once they didn’t need you anymore, you were shrugged away and discarded.

The loud Michael Jackson song that was blaring through the speakers was what you focused on. Your eyes turned away from Billy and his new girl and focused on the song. Tommy H. was throwing a party and for some reason (most likely boredom and looking for a source of amusement), you decided to go. So, why not live a little? You didn’t need to drink, or do whatever the hell it was they were doing in the bathroom. You didn’t need to do a kegstand. You did the one thing that helped you let loose. 

You danced. 

You made your way to the dance floor and just started to move around. Your hips swayed to the beat, your head nodding along. Body heat radiated from every which way, the smell of alcohol and cigarettes filling your nostrils. You danced with nobody but yourself. 

It was like you were invisible, dancing alone. You had no need to grind on someone, no need to sling your arms around a stranger. You were content with filling the hole in your heart yourself. It’s the only way to do it. 

But the less time that I spend with you, the less you’ll need to heal. 
I wanna sleep next to you, but that’s all I wanna do right now.
So come over now, and talk me down.

Billy hadn’t called you in weeks. When you passed him in the hallway, you avoided his gaze. You shrunk back into the crowd and made yourself invisible. He had different girls to fill the void in him now, girls who gave him more than you did. A shock blanket, all you were. All you’d ever be to him. 

That night, as you lay in bed reading a book, your phone rang. You glanced up at it, your heart beginning to beat faster. What if it was Billy? But what if it wasn’t? 

So you let it ring. 

And then, the ringing stopped. 

You breathed a sigh of relief, knowing it was most likely just a wrong number.

And then the phone rang again. 

You had to pick it up- you couldn’t just let it ring. “Hello?”


It was Billy.

You sighed. “Look Billy, I understand you don’t need me anymore so you don’t need to call me and apologize and rub it in my face that you’ve found a better fix, okay?”

His breath shook as he spoke, “I need you. I need you right now. I’m so sorry, I truly am. I was a dick and I shouldn’t have been. I’m so sorry. I understand if you don’t want to hang out or be friends or.. or whatever the hell we were. I get it. But, if it’s possible, I just need someone right now. I was such a prick, and I’m sorry.”

Your heart ached, and you knew there was a chance you were gonna regret this. “I’ll be over in ten.” 

La douleur exquise Pt.2 (M)

La douleur exquise: The heart-wrenching pain of wanting someone you can’t have.

Summary: You’ve been helplessly in love with your brother’s best friend all your life, but he can’t see you as anything other than a little sister.

Pairing: Wonho x Reader x Jungkook (not a threesome but messy as hell)

Word Count: 6.1k

Genre(s): Angst, smut

Part 1 here

A/N: Thank you guys for being so patient with me on this update. I really hope I did it justice and hope you enjoy! (& don’t kill me I’m sorry)

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Transference (M) – Chapter 03

cr. [X]

Summary: You and Hoseok discuss your homework assignment, and your sessions together take a spicy turn.

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst

Word Count: 8,370

Warning: Tantric!Hoseok, therapist/client relationship, sexual themes, BDSM, shibari, dom/sub roleplay, profanity.

A/N: Prepare yourself, this is the shibari chapter. Shibari practice comes with many risks, so always consult professionals before playing.

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07

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Will You Let It Die...?

Originally posted by kitaplarvekedilerr

Word Count: 1,800

Requested: Hey sweetie, how are you? Can you do an imagine where Shawn’s performing Roses onstage and he gets emotional (like last night’s show) bc Roses is y/n’s fav song and he misses her so much bc they aren’t together anymore and then he calls her and asks her for another chance? Sorry my English, it’s not my first language



“What song do you get most emotional about playing?” The girl who had asked him this question during the Q&A meant no harm, but the feeling of his heart breaking at the question - proved him otherwise.

If you were to ask him which song he got the most emotional about playing, which this girl did, it would be Roses. Not due to the message behind it, that had little to do with why Shawn’s eyes stung with sadness each time he performed it. No, it reminded him of the love he had until recently - you.

Shawn took his time in answering this question, debating on whether or not to tell the truth or give a different answer. However, he didn’t want to hide anything, so he gave her the truth.

“Probably Roses.” He answered simply, wanting to move on.

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Family Ties (Jughead x Sister!reader)

Originally posted by marorra

You collapsed into the bed in your trailer. Sweet Peas body fell beside you as you both collapsed in exhaustion. However tired you were, sleep seemed to evade you. The bright green numbers shone beside you when you rolled over, 3:46.
“SP, baby,” You whispered into his ear, shifting his hair with your hand. He groaned and tolled over not yet awake. You continued, “Do you think Jughead will accept me? I’m only his half-sister and I’ve been kept a secret his whole life. I was raised by the Serpents and he probably believes the Northside bullshit about us.” Tears started to well up in your eyes, you wanted to continue but you knew you couldn’t due to the lump in your throat. You curled up onto Sweet Pea and held in your tears. You just wanted your dad’s hugs, his shitty jokes, and the comfort of his presence. Instead you were here missing him with all your being and you couldn’t visit him should someone get the wrong idea. You didn’t even get to say goodbye.

You stood outside FPs trailer as his son, your brother, poked his head outside, your hand tightly holding hot dogs leash. You silently watched as his face contorted into confusion when Tall Boy handed him his jacket. The soft lilt of a girl’s voice came from behind his door and you smirked. Some Northside princess no doubt. Things were changing in Riverdale and the Serpents had to stick together more than ever, hopefully Jughead would join your family even if he didn’t know he was yours. You sat on the side lines throughout the whole drama going on, Jughead barely noticed you at school. You still cared about him and proudly sported the shiner you got beating the Ghoulie that attacked him. When the Black Hood appeared you were scared, you were a child of wedlock and infidelity and the perfect example of a sinner. Sweet Pea and the Serpents understood this and tried to protect you at all costs.

You were walking the streets of the Southside one night; the boys were off at some rumble with the Red Circle or whatever. You felt stifled in your trailer, so you went for a walk. The rain fell and soaked through your jacket, but you barely noticed. You barely noticed anything. Not the car following behind you. Not the man aiming his gun. Not his hand pulling the trigger. Not him speeding away with a black hood over his head. All you noticed was the blood pounding in your ears. The soft stickiness of the blood. Everything seemed to be in grayscale. You stomach burned so much. Yet all you could do was stare as slowly your world became black. You faintly heard the pounding of feet and voices. God, so many voices. Some you recognised, some were the voices of strangers. All you could try to focus on was SPs voices in your head. But that drifted away as well.

Sweet Peas rings were the first thing you noticed when you woke up. Then it was the god-awful taste in your mouth. It may be cliché, but you did wake up to a blinding white light and complete confusion. Your eyes adjusted to the light pretty quickly, but you tried not to move. Tight bandages were wrapped around your waist and you still felt a dull ache. Sweet Pea didn’t notice you were awake until you coughed involuntarily. Conscious of the other people in the room, he avoided PDA and fetched you some water. You eyed up the others in the room. Two boys and two girls. Jughead you recognized and the redhead you vaguely knew from the Red Circle video and Jugheads overprotectiveness, Archie Andrews. Betty Cooper wasn’t hard to miss so the fourth must be Veronica Lodge. They all gave you hard glares, ranging from confusion to straight up hatred from Jughead. You sipped the water as Sweet Pea handed it to you and left mumbling about grabbing a nurse or something.

“You going to keep glaring at me from over there or grow a pair and speak to me.” You said, shifting to meet each person’s eyes. The glanced at each other as if talking telepathically. Rolling your eyes you spoke again; “Go on, I don’t have all day.”

“Why when you, some random Serpent gets shot, did they immediately go to Jughead for blood.” You were familiar with Betty Coopers journalism so it made sense she got right to the point.

“He’s my half-brother.” The four were shocked at your admission. Jugheads mouth gaped open and shut as if he wanted to speak but couldn’t. Archie spoke next,

“Let’s leave them to discuss this.” The red-head dragged the two girls out with him.

“I should explain,” You spoke as you addressed you brother who seemed to have no clue what was happening, “I was born 7 months after you, some drunk one-night stand of your fathers. FP didn’t know about me until after the divorce and I stumbled into the White Whyrm beaten half to death and my mother admitted it when interviewed on child abuse charges. I was looked after by the Serpents my whole life and didn’t even need the initiation to get my jacket. I was told not to tell you about me because with all the shit that’s been happening it was probably the last thing you needed. And obviously because you and Jellybean are more important then I am.” Jughead seemed like he had had all the wind knocked from him. He pulled his beanie from his head and wrung it between his hands. He eventually snapped out of it and stood up, shoving his beanie back on his head and walked out. Focusing on nothing as the nurses came and checked on you and changed your bandages, you wondered if FP would get mad at you for telling him. Too late now you guessed.


Part 2

i’m not the only one (one) - bucky barnes

Originally posted by caps-bucky

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

summary: Based off the song ‘I’m Not The Only One’ by Sam Smith. Nothing else mattered but the truth, but sometimes, the truth hurts. In this case, it was heartbreaking.

requested: yes (anons)

warning: language

words: 2148

a/n: here’s that fluffy angst for you all! And before I continue, I would never portray any of the marvel mcu like this, but it’s the imagine so:) There will be a PART 2 so I hope u all like!!<33 you can listen to the song here



 You and me, we made a vow. For better or for worse. I can’t believe you let me down, but the proof’s in the way it hurts.

“This is so beautiful,” you gently whispered in Bucky’s ear, leaning your head down gingerly on his comfortable and familiar shoulder. Your eyes pierced through the orange and pink blazing across the mid afternoon sky in a loving daze. Your heart warmed at the thought of such a pure and devoted afternoon with the man you loved with every bone in your body.

Bucky’s deep breaths fanned across the setting sky and wrapped his arm around your figure, bringing you closer to his comforting frame as he whispered back to you, his words sending shivers down your spine, “Almost as beautiful as you.”

Your insides turned gooey as your heart did the unrecognizable thump against your chest, your affection for him never washing away for a second. You blushed the color of the beautiful sunset before the both of you, your eyes swaying to the motion of the sky for the next few minutes. After minutes have passed, you feel the warmth of your figure leave as Bucky pulled slowly away from you, your shoulders becoming cold without the warmth for his body touching you.

Confused, you turn towards him and sit up against the park bench, hands pushing down on the now vacant spot next to you. Eyebrows furrowing with disorientation as you scanned his tall and muscular figure that was standing next to the bench, his head turned the other way, hands digging deep into his pockets.

Scooting over closer to him, you reach out and gently touch his arm in comfort, “Hey, what’s wrong?” you question, concern lacing through your words.

He feels the spark of your finger grazing his arm and he whips around to face you once again, eyes wide with anxiety, “W-Well,” he stutters out, hand coming up to grasps his jaw in worry.

You got up, worried at his sudden change of demeanor and move to face him, placing your hands on his shoulders, “What?” you answer, the tightness in his shoulders letting go as soon as he feels your captivating touch.

All of the sudden, he nods his head back in forth, almost as if he was debating with himself on what his next action would be. You watched him with caution and narrowed your eyes in concern.

Before you knew it, Bucky’s figured switched from gazing over you to moving below you, his right knew propped up on the ground as he bent down on the other. Your eyes and mouth grew with every movement, watching him with bewilderment at what his next move would be. Excitement flew through your veins and your stomach twisted into a knot.

“Y/N, I will always love you, you know that right? I would never hurt you, ever,” he questioned you, hand reaching in his pocket to grasp the new object, his eyes urging yours to not in understanding.

The love crackled between your two bodies as you choked out a 'Yes’, your sudden feelings catching the best of you due to the sudden situation. Bucky’s mesmerizing smile spread across his face, his icey blue-green eyes dragging you in to yet another trance.

He scoots closer, grasping the black box in his hand, the nerves pulsing his veins in such a exciting manner he felt as if his head was spinning. He gazed at your nearly crying figure and the love poured out of him as he asked you the long awaited four words.

“Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?”

Your emotions did the talking for you, your head nodding vigorously as his question, your heart answering what your mouth couldn’t seem to do. His nerves exploded in his stomach as he slid the glistening ring on your finger. Your bodies collided along with your lips, the adoration and anxiety all washing over the both of you at once as your lips grazed each other’s in searing kiss. The once alluring sunset had vanished, leaving you two to have the most beautiful scene in the moment.

Nothing could have ruined that affectionate moment and the electricity of love that ignited in your veins. Your love was over the moon, your mind never second guessing his question for a second. He was the love of your life, he was going to love you for as long as he possibly could.

What you didn’t know, was that the vow you had sworn on your wedding day, the vow that caused your heart to close for one person and one person only, was broken in no time.

For months on end I’ve had my doubts, denying every tear. I wish this would be over now, but I know that I still need you here.

Two years later…

“Buck, where are you going? It’s Saturday,” you questioned your husband of two years as he gripped his brown leather jacket in one hand and his cell phone in the other.

Buck whipped his head around to scan your confused demeanor quickly as you questioned him. He watched as your tired Y/E/C eyes rolled over from him to the clock, the anxiety within him stirring as you asked him, “S-Steve wanted some help moving into his new place.”

You watched the stutter slip through his lying lips once again, your mind connecting the anxiety, stutter, and time management together as yet another lie. Your cold fingers etched themselves against the warm mug that was held against the palm of your hand. Fingers lightly tapping the white ceramic in examination of Bucky standing before you like a deer in headlights.

Pink lips turning from a usual depicted frown to a small, genuine-looking smile at his weary figure reaching for the door handle, you got up and made way to him slowly. The back of your mind fished for one of your many forgiving responses as you set a hand on his shoulder, “Okay, I’ll see you later,” you elevated up slightly, planting a cold kiss upon his scruffy cheek.

The feeling of your cold yet loving lips against his skin made his heart ache and regret wash over him once more. His mind wasn’t thinking as he smiled slightly at your groggy figure, opening the front door and leaving to portray all the love and affection he provided you once, to someone else.

Bucky exited the door, leaving you alone to sort out the scandalous and unforgivable actions he was playing beyond your eyes. Your mind was no longer wracking for a solution to stir upon him once he walked in the door with the stench of expensive, sour smelling perfume circling upon his clothes. Or to daringly ask him how he received such a purple bruise from you that day, especially when you haven’t kissed his greedy, pink lips in over a week. There was nothing else to be said or done. Your thoughts no longer left you stranded alone in your shared bedroom, the anemic and damaging ears blurring your vision of what was being played before you. Your pillow soaked with lies and heartbreak gripped underneath your trembling body as shaky breaths emitted from your chapped lips day, after day, after day. after day.

Your heart could no longer fracture itself at the thought of Bucky’s lips against someone else’s. His smiles being witnessed by someone of lesser love for him than you. You had dried yourself of any more mournful and heartbroken feelings. The constant acts of forgiveness he would supply because of his presence, no longer affected you anymore. Nothing was strong enough after two months of dismal play on his part, to ignite another wave of regret to wash over you. The continual nights of escape were over, you were ending them.

He wasn’t worth your pain anymore.

 You say I’m crazy. 'Cause you don’t think I know what you’ve done. But when you call me baby, I know I’m not the only one.

“How was Steve’s?” you ask your husband as he opened the door, the sound of crickets slipping through the door frame and into your ears. His brown jacket was hanging limp over his body as he looked up to meet your gaze.

Your attention snapped from the TV to him, awaiting his new round of false answers and heavily formulated responses that consisted of code words for the term 'sex’. Bucky’s eyes watched your seemingly calm figure turn to look at him as he whipped out a new and improved casual response, “It was good, yeah. His new place is really nice,” he responded, the casual exterior of the comment flooding your knowing demeanor.

You shook your head slowly at his response, turning our attention back to the TV, making it seem like you believed his cursory lie. Pursing your lips, your mind scanned through endless possibilities on how you would begin to topic of conversation that would end in complete and utter controversy. Out of the corner of your eyes, your orbs carefully yet skillfully watching him and his moves intently. Your mind picked which action to throw upon on him first, his figure coming to sit down in the chair nearest you. He kicked off his brown boots, propping his feet up on the ottoman. Your lips pursed and switched your gaze back to the TV head on as you witnessed his eyes pierce your mysterious ones quickly.

Deciding to act on the manner for once, your brain ripped out a hasty response, eyes and head still fixated on the bright picture of the screen before you, “Is Steve’s place the new excuse?”

The response danced in your ears and your heart did a rapid 'thump’ as you quietly awaited his response. Your eyes narrowed over to him, seeing his head whip towards your sudden comment.

Bucky’s nervous voice hit your ears and you daringly decided to take your attention from TV to your dishonest husband approaching next to your strong demeanor, “What?” he let out, almost sounding defensive toward you. This caused your pulse to accelerate and your mind to flip from calm to defensive as well.

“Cut the fucking bullshit, Buck,” the words dripped like venom off your tongue, whipping your head to meet his guilt-stricken eyes. You tensed as his figure straightened in the chair, his full attention now focused on you and you only.

“Y/N, what are you-” he attempted to say, the defensive aspect of his lie already diminishing poorly on him.

Don’t, don’t you dare sit here and lie to me again. Do you think I’m that big of a fucking idiot?” your voice had risen, your mouth nor your thoughts shutting you down at all. This was the moment you would never allow him to deceive you again. You were ripping this into him finally, and you weren’t about to stop.

You continued, watching his figure and facial expressions grow guilty and wrongful by the second, “This is it, Bucky! The excuses that roll of your lips every time you walk out that door are done, they’re goddamn over with! So, don’t you dare try to slide by me ever again, because this is the moment I finally let you have it,” your features were scrunched in heartbreak yet anger as the eyes you once loved to dive in to, could no longer meet yours in truth.

He muttered at you, head directed down at the floor, arms planted on his knees in defeat, heavy breaths emitting from him each second, “Y/N! You’re crazy if you-”

“Oh my god, Bucky! Is this a fucking joke? Don’t you dare try and flip this around to cause me to portray the bad guy! Y-You know what you’ve done and your coward ass is too afraid to admit it!” you roared at him, hands flying everywhere, emotions pouring in and out of you every second the conversation leads closer and closer to the truth.

“Say it, Buck! I want to hear you fucking say it!

As those words dripped off your lips, the room became cold and quiet, any outside noise being canceled out. Nothing else mattered, but the truth. Your heart pounded against your chest and your pulse was on fire at this point. Everything inside you ached by now, but you didn’t care.

Bucky’s down-casted demeanor looked up to hit your glaring, hurting orbs that were intently staring a hole through him. His body was close to sobbing as the heartbroken expression on your once gentle features hit his heart like a truck.

His eyes glazed over with tears, the usual bright color now gone along with the false confessions. The energy between you two no longer existed, all the adoration and love, had vanished.

“I-I cheated on you.”

The words you knew were approaching stung, your body becoming limp and your thoughts washed away with affection and truth. Your husband, the love of your life, was no longer who you thought he was.

You and him were no longer.

Anything you can do, I can do better.

Originally posted by got7kings

[song inspiration: Flum ft. Tove Lo - Say it]

Info: im jaebum fuckboy!AU x oc fuckgirl!AU
genre: pure smut
word count: 4.3k
a/n: all your bias’ are gonna burn after this. ALL HAIL THE BIAS BURNER SIN JAEBUM! (possibility of a part two)

[New Message: Im Fuckboy]

What the fuck was he messaging me for? 

Im Jaebum, the biggest fuckboy around. He was just as big of a fuckboy as I was a fuckgirl, though. It’s not like we ever talked, unless we wanted to fuck one of the other’s friends. Other than that, we stayed out of each other’s way. There was no reason for us to associate. Period.

So, why is he texting me?

[11:14 pm] Im Fuckboy: What are you doin’?

[11:14 pm] Im Fuckboy: Hey!

[11:14 pm] Im Fuckboy: Lilith!

I rolled my eyes so damn hard it hurt my head.

[11:15 pm] Me: What do you want?

[11:15 pm] Im Fuckboy: You’re not at the party. Why?

[11:15 pm] Im Fuckboy: Fuck everybody here already?

[11:16 pm] Me: Ha! You’re one to talk

[11:16 pm] Me: You’ve fucked every single one of my friends

[11:17 pm] Me: Is that why you’re texting at a party? No one left to fuck either?

[11:17 pm] Im Fuckboy: You say it like you haven’t fucked all of mine too

[11:17 pm] Im Fuckboy: Which you have

[11:18 pm] Im Fuckboy: But, no that isn’t why. I just realized I’VE never fucked you

[11:18 pm] Im Fuckboy: And I want to

Keep reading

TITLE — long distance.
WARNINGS — mature content and some swearing.
WORD COUNT — 2,901 words.
AUTHOR’S NOTE — i can’t even believe my last fic got over 300 notes, that’s insane, thank you so much. uh, this was supposed to be short and smutty but the angst in me came out to wreak havoc. it also turned out much longer than i intended (story of my life). and that fluff bit at the end? i don’t know her. anyway, hope you enjoy it, thanks for reading !

You’re woken up at 2:09 AM by a constant and nagging vibration, the glare of your phone guiding you as you blindly reach for the device. Through heavy-lidded eyes you study the name displayed on the screen and the sappy emojis that follow.

It’s your boyfriend.

“Hey,” you say, voice dripping with dread and worry, and fatigue. It’s silent on the other end safe for some rustling and just as you’re about to call after him, there’s a muted groan.

“B-bae?” He sighs into the transmitter—a sigh of relief. “Fuck,” he sobs. “I miss y-you. I… fuck.” Another sob. “Baby?”

“I’m here,” you murmur, so richly enveloped by sleep it takes you a couple of seconds to notice he’s inebriated, and heavily so. His usage of the word ‘bae’ being the first and foremost giveaway.

“No, you’re all the way over there and I need you here—with me.” He slurs and then a little less distinctively, “Geoff send a car for her. Can’t we just get her here?”

A familiar voice rings out on the other line, muffled and barely audible. “Settle down, bud. It’s two in the morning. You fucking woke her up.” More rustling. “Drink the water and get some rest.” And then under his breath, something of an afterthought, “With your lightweight ass.”

“I’m not a lightweight, what…what are you t-talking about?” More rustling. “I’m not a light, uh… lightweight,” he says again but there’s so much rustling coming from the receiver, you can barely hear a thing.

“Take the water. Shawn, take—Shawn, take the water… Okay, now drink it… Drink. It.”

You sit up in bed and clumsily lean against the headboard for support. Blinking a few times, you reach for the lamp perched on the nightstand and revel in the flood of light that engulfs the bedroom. You’re grateful for Geoff, oh so very grateful, because, with him around, Shawn always has someone to care for him.

“Why do I have to drink it…the water?” You hear, a little clearer this time. “Geoff, why do I have… Why do I have to drink the water?”

“Because you’re gonna hate me in the morning if you don’t.”

“Bullshit,” but by the sound of it, he’s drinking. Shawn might be a messy drunk but he’s highly submissive under the influence; three glasses in and your wish is his command. “I could never hate you. Why would you even s-say something like that, Geoff? I love you, man.” More drinking. “Like… Like a man loves his wife… But without—” He pauses and you have to press the back of your hand against your mouth to keep from laughing out loud. “But without the sexing. Sexing? I mean fucking.”

“I love you, too, bud.” Geoff says, a tinge of amusement in his voice. He sounds closer.

There’s a crackling sound of plastic followed by an audible gulping of water. And then, “Where does all this water go?”

“Go on, finish the bottle, you’re almost done.”

You don’t mind that you’ve somehow been put in the backseat of this vehicle and have become a mere spectator. You pull the comforter higher around your chest and imagine Shawn’s protruding Adam’s apple bobbing to the rhythm of his swallows. “But speaking of fucking—I miss fucking my baby.”

The comment is so unwarranted, you choke on your spit, the coughs rolling down your tongue in succession.

“TMI, bud. Y/N, sweetheart,” Geoff’s voice suddenly booms into the receiver. “I didn’t hear a thing and consider me gone.”

You’re wheezing, your throat still recovering from the obstruction, so you grunt in response, though the effort is in vain because he’s already halfway to the door.

“Geoff, where…?” Shawn trails off and despite the vague question, Geoff answers him but the long distance hinders your ability to discern the content of his response. “I drank my water, Geoff. You p-promised you’d get Y/N here if I drank my water.”

“I said you could maybe text her, remember? And ever the defiant kid, you called her, instead.” You’re able to decipher his words, at last, and the sound of a door clicking shut.

Another broken sob racks Shawn’s body and you feel your heart ache for him. Once he downs his fifth or sixth glass, he becomes quite overemotional and needy, and with that in mind, you wonder what made him drink so much. It’s worrisome. He’s usually very responsible and orders either two beers or a glass of whiskey when he goes out for drinks with his crew after a concert but judging by his demeanor, he didn’t drink beer and he didn’t stop at one glass of whiskey.

It might be two in the morning but your mind is made up. Throwing the comforter from around your frame, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed and slip your feet into the awaiting slippers by your bedpost. You tear the phone from your ear just long enough to send Geoff a quick text message.

“Shawn?” You say, at last. Your voice is small and you can’t help the panic that seeps into the words. It isn’t the first time he calls you drunk, on the contrary, it’s a pretty frequent occurrence—he calls at least once every two cities—but the trace of distress in his voice is unusual and alarming.

“Shit. Just a s-sec, princess.” He curses under his breath as more rustling arises. You realize he’s got you on speaker and that he’s currently in search of his phone. “Baby?”

“I hear you,” you say.

Digging deep in your closet, you pull out a duffel bag and begin to throw random selections of clothing inside. Realistically, you’ll only need about two day’s worth of clothing but you conquer you’re not in the proper mindset to be realistic. All you can think about is Shawn and all you can hear are his heart-wrenching sobs.

“God—I didn’t mean to f-forget. I… I put the phone down for just a second…just a second… I thought I w-wouldn’t forget—”

“It’s okay, honey.” You reassure him. Grabbing onto a jacket, you pull it on, phone cradled between your ear and shoulder. “Baby, why did you drink so much?” You collect small but important things—charger, wallet and makeup bag—and toss them into the bag.

“Geoff told me to drink a-a… a lot of water.”

“Not water, baby. Alcohol. Why did you drink so much alcohol?”

A strangled moan rumbles from deep within his throat and you feel your fingers tighten around your phone. You wish you could materialize yourself in front of him and make it all better.

“To n-numb it all. Baby, my heart hurts. It fucking hurts and—and… I can’t make it stop.” Shawn whines into the transmitter. “Why can’t I make it stop? I th-thought the alcohol would make me forget.”

“Forget what, baby?” You’d rather have him ramble on than allow him a moment of respite to avoid hearing his quiet whimpers.

“No. Forget…forget about you.” Your heart sinks to your stomach at his revelation and you feel your lungs contract, the limited supply of air eliciting a pain almost greater than Shawn’s words. “I m-miss you…so much.”

Because he’s touring, there hasn’t been much time to spare between the both of you. Short squeezed-in phone calls and late-night FaceTime sessions help relieve some of the strain but it just isn’t enough. And usually, you both manage to function rather well during the time spent apart but sometimes it builds up and overwhelms you both. And because Shawn is away from his family and friends for months at a time, it hits him worse. During those unbearably worse days, you try to be there for him to the best of your ability.

Sometimes a long overdue phone call suffices and sometimes, like tonight, it doesn’t.

“I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.” You repeat again and again, a week’s worth of the mantra spilling from your lips at once. “I count down the seconds ‘til I can call or FaceTime you.”

You let out a sigh of relief when you get a text message from Geoff alerting you that a car just pulled up in front of your apartment. Grabbing your duffel bag and purse, you make your way down a series of stairs and into the lobby. You don’t bother to change into more appropriate clothes—your sweatpants, camisole and slippers will have to do.

Shawn’s whimpers have turned into quiet mewls and as you hurry toward the car stationed outside by the curb, you try to ignore the heat pooling into your gut. Goddamn, even his sounds of distress are sexy.

“Princess?” He rasps, his voice low.

“Yes, hon.”

You smile at the driver who holds the door open for you. Tugging your duffel bag and purse along with you, you settle in and gnaw at your bottom lip, eyes wandering forward to catch the time. You’re a little nervous about this impromptu trip to see your boyfriend. Thankfully, you’re both in the same country, just different cities, so the flight shouldn’t take all night. According to Geoff, it’s approximately three hours. Regardless, you’ll have to call in (fake) sick for work in the morning. But none of it matters, not when all you can think about is Shawn and being with him.

“I need you so bad.” He says groggily, fatigue heavy in his voice. “I wanna see you. I wanna touch you. Hold you. Feel you against me. I wanna kiss you. Fuck—I just wanna make you feel good. With my hands and my tongue. I need to see you. I’m going fucking crazy. You hear me, baby? I can’t take it.”

Completely flustered, you glance at the driver, and whisper into the phone, keeping it PG-13 just in case. “I know, baby, but we’ll soon be together. And we’ll make up for lost time.”

You hear the faint sound of a creaking bed and wonder if Shawn is tossing and turning, desperate to be comfortable, or if he’s keeping busy doing something else. Probably the former, considering he’d have no shame roping you into having phone sex if he were aroused. His voice comes out all breathy, “I miss you… I miss your face… I miss your smile… I miss your lips… I miss your eyes… I miss your laugh…”

The car ride to the airport consists of him listing all that he misses about you and you, head leaning against the cool window, listening silently.

Sometime during the flight via private jet, he falls asleep, but you stay on the line with him. He keeps mumbling your name and his breathing is irregular, probably the impact of your absence, but the plane and all its little noises are lulling you to sleep. However, you fight off your own weariness and continue to focus on his breathing and occasional mumbling. God forbid you fall asleep and he wakes up and panics at the silence on your end.

Just before he’d dozed off, he’d insisted you speak—about literally every little thing he missed since you last spoke to each other—just so he could hear more of your voice. It soothed him. Fifteen minutes into your monologue, and his intermittent hums, he seemed to have dramatically calmed down.

There’s another car waiting for you when you land. Geoff took care of everything and by the time you get to the hotel, there’s an employee awaiting your arrival. Geoff sent you a text message before you boarded your plane and he essentially apologized for not being able to properly greet you and for not having called you much earlier about Shawn. You reassured him that he’d done everything right and that he couldn’t have known Shawn’s drunken behaviour hid a deeper meaning.

You’re given a keycard and directions to your boyfriend’s room. There’s a giddiness in your steps as you make your way into the elevators, the reality of things—being able to see and hold your boyfriend soon—settling into your bones. Your call is still ongoing and nearing the four hour mark. Mindful of his slumber and not wanting to give up your location, you’ve had to put him on mute a few times, but as you step out of the elevator, you unmute him and take a quick screenshot. To show him in the morning and to save it in your digital memory for future reference.

His hotel room is engulfed in darkness but you make out a shallow lump-like form on the bed. The curtains are drawn but there’s an open slit in the middle and as moonlight cascades down into the room, relief washes over you. A stabbing pain grips your heart at the thought of his distress earlier and how powerless and useless you felt. You feel guilty about not telling him you were coming to see him but knowing him, he wouldn’t have tried to sleep. He would’ve forced himself awake until your arrival. Not to mention, he would have nagged you all the way, asking you over and over again if you were near.

You let your duffel bag and purse fall onto the floor with a quiet thud and walk over to his bed. The faint glow of his phone illuminates his face, the seconds ticking by on the screen. You reach for his phone and turn it off before doing the same to yours. Placing them both on the nightstand farthest from his side of bed, you quietly kick off your slippers and climb into bed. For a horrifying second, you remember your physical state. You forgot to brush your teeth, wash your face or at the least brush your hair. But you feel him stir and mumble your name and just like that, you’re sucked into a world where nothing matters but Shawn.

Rounding an arm around his torso, you press yourself against him and kiss the back of his neck. He flinches awake, his hand finding yours, and as he feels the familiar warmth of your fingers and the promise ring he got you on your ten-month anniversary, his breathing evens out.

When he turns around to face you, your heart breaks all over again at the sight of him: the dried tear streaks, blotchy cheeks and rosy nose. “Baby.” He breathes and wraps his arms around you, closing the tiniest of gaps between you. He sounds exhausted. He buries his head into the crook of your neck and you feel him shudder. You give him small kisses on his cheek and jawline, your hand rubbing soothing circles on his back. He won’t stop shuddering. You’re not alarmed by his reaction, it’s simply the relief flooding his system and overwhelming him. The healing process has just begun.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” You whisper between kisses. “You don’t have to drink to forget about me, okay? Don’t feel you ever have to forget about me.”

“I c-can’t believe you’re here…I-I wanted this so bad. To have you here with me, to feel you against me.” You feel him leave a trail of kisses on your neck and then up your jaw and cheek, interrupting your own little kissing adventure. He captures your lips in a sweet and desperate kiss. He tastes like alcohol. Bitter but sweet. “I didn’t wanna forget about you. I couldn’t… I also couldn’t cope with the thought of you being so far from m-me.”

He sounds a little more sober, more grounded, and so you kiss him again, wanting to be his anchor. His hand dips underneath your camisole and you feel your skin heat up where he’s touching you. “You ever need me, you call me. There’s nothing, absolutely nothing, that can stop me from being here for you. You don’t have to be strong all the time. I understand it gets hard being away from everyone. Don’t put up a front. If you ever need me, you just call me and I’ll be on the first flight out.”

As if possible, his grip tightens around you. He kisses your nose, and then your eyes, and then your forehead. Dipping your hand beneath his shirt, as well, you caress his back and lightly drag your fingernails down to the small of his back. You’re a mess of tangled limbs and wet kisses. All you see, hear, smell and taste is each other. It’s intoxicating but it’s also therapeutic.

And finally, fatigue hits you. Hard. You kiss Shawn’s chin and rub your nose against his, the movement languid and slow. He’s fighting to keep his eyelids open and you smile fondly, your heart a melted puddle in your chest. He smiles back, a lazy, tired smile, and you kiss his cheek again. You continue to stare at each other and you realize that he’s fighting the urge to blink, almost as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he closes his eyes for just a second.

“Go to sleep, honey. I promise I’ll be here when you wake up. I promise.”

He adamantly defies you for another couple of seconds but finally, his eyelids give out on him and he mumbles a quiet “love you” before drifting off.

“I love you, too.” You say, though he’s already gone under. Sleep pulls you in next and you blissfully oblige.

The Glow of Inspiriting

Word Count: 4.4k+ holy mother of
Warnings: Severe anxiety, angst, fluff
Song: “Touch” by Daughter THIS FITS !!! SO PERFECTLY !!!
A/N: I am absolutely terrified at what this piece has become. It’s rough at first, but hoLD OUT FOR THE FLUFF. CAUSE IT GETS REAL FLUFFY. HAPPY AND FLUFFY :)) I’m just gonna put this here and go to bed asdjhfafd I’m so scared

This was based on little bits of three separate requests.

All anxiety symptoms are solely based on personal experience; I’m not trying to push a certain idea of attacks or disrespect anyone.


The walls were closing, your breaths were breaking, your chest was pounding. Pounding, shaking, pressing. Crushing.

You shuddered on the ground, broken bones of your back fighting against the hard wall, sending aches up your neck, down your arms. Everything hurt, smearing your insides with insecurities, anxiety, and overwhelming urges to disappear. Just float away, escape from yourself, your ribs, your shaky fingertips, your ill-fitting lungs. Escape.

You were small in the grand scheme of your thoughts, underwhelmingly small, pointless, worthless, drowning in the crushing waves. No room for air, for positive thoughts, for clear eyes, steady hands, or mended bones. No room. And so you stayed on the ground, broken bones pressing against the wall, caught in the corner.

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Unfair Affair - Part 7

A/N: Thank you all so much for your ideas, I’ve considered almost all of them! Enjoy!


It was Friday.

Friday and every morning for the past week she had been throwing up every morning. Her nausea seemed to only worsen.

The worst part if it being that she also had trouble eating certain types of food. She couldn’t stand the smell of kale. She had missed work 2 days because the smell of the sterilized clinic made her feel sick.

She had an appointment with her Gynocologist that day. She wanted to see what was wrong because quite frankly she was miserable. Sitting in the waiting room for her name to be called (Y/N) picked at her nails. The atmosphere was cold and there were only 2 pregnant ladies with her reading gossip magazines. And a TV playing a news channle softly.

The anxiousness was sending an ache in her stomach. Or maybe it was the smell of hand sanitizer and cleaning products that the clinic smelled like. Either way it made her sick.

Eva had insisted on coming with her to the appointment but (Y/N) simply told her no. Telling her that it was probably nothing and that it was useless to miss a day of work over it. Ben had offered as well. But (Y/N) told him no as well. Ben had been so great to her and she didn’t want to bug him. Not with someting as little as a stomach ache.

A nurse walked out the door which made (Y/N) look up. She carried a clip board and her red hair was tied back in a tight bun. “Ms. (Y/N)?” She called out in a soft voice. (Y/N) stood up grabbing her purse and papers she had been told to fill out. She followed the nurse in the corridor until she was lead to a room. “Let’s check your blood pressure and weight Honey, step on this scale for me.” She asked.

(Y/N) nodded and followed with the procedure. She was kind of shocked to find out she had gained 2 pounds considering she was regularly maintained healthy options in her eating. She hadn’t even eaten much, mostly because her stomach rejected nearly everything she ate.

Once the procedure was over the nurse finished filling out the paper she had on her clipboard and hummed to herself. “When was your last period Sweetheart?” The nurse asked finally.

(Y/N) froze. When was the last time she had her period? She couldn’t remember.

“Umm. I believe it was the beggining of last month.” (Y/N) nervously said.

The nurse nodded and wrote it down. “Okay, the Doctor will be in with you shortly, I’ll take your papers and update your file with them.” The nurse told her with a comforting smile.

“Yeah, thank you.” Was all (Y/N) could say before the nurse exited the room. Leaving (Y/N) with all the posters about health and charts.

(Y/N) felt like her heart was going to explode. It had been a while since she had, had her period. But then again she had also changed her type of birth control and that triggered irregular menstrual cycle patterns.

She was so deep in thought that she completly lost track of time. The Doctor knocked on the door as he opened it and (Y/N) didn’t even flinch.

“Ms.(Y/N)?” He asked im a rough voice. Once (Y/N) looked up she was met with an elderly man. His white hair sticking out and his glasses resting on his face.

“I’m sorry.” (Y/N) blushed in embarrassment. “Just have a lot of things on my mind at the moment.”

“I would guess so.” The Doctor said sticking his hand out for (Y/N) to shake. “Dr. Florenz, nice to meet you” He greeted.

(Y/N) nodded and weakly smiled at him. “(Y/N), nice to meet you as well.”

“So what seems to be the problem?” Dr. Florenz asked pulling a wheel stool seat in front of her to sit on.

(Y/N) swolled a lump that had formed in her throat. “Well for the past week I’ve been experiencing nausea. I can’t keep anything down at all. I can barely eat eggs without my stomach just rejecting it. I work at a Cancer Patients hospital, we use equipment and medicine that smells, strongly smells. And I’ve missed nearly this whole week of work because I can’t stand the smell. Just the odor of the hospital makes me sick.” (Y/N) answered him with a worried tone. She was scared. More so because she had an idea of what was wrong with her. But she refused to believe it.

Dr. Florenz nodded and pursed his lips together. “(Y/N) I’m going to ask a personal question that I want you to answer honestly.” He said seriously. (Y/N) nodded and waited as he hesitantly spoke.

“Have you been sexually active in the last month?”

“Y-yes I have.”

“I think I may have an idea of what you might have Ms. (Y/N). We’re going to run a blood test on you just to make sure. The blood results take a few days to come back so we won’t know until then. You’ve changed thr type of birth control you’ve been taking as you have told us. That explains the menstrual cycle irregularities and the nausea. But we need to make sure before we take any more measures.” Dr. Florenz stated standing up from the stool and walking over to type on the lap top that was in the room.

(Y/N)’s face had looked like it was drained of any emotion. She never seemed go be able to get rid of Harry. She never seemed to get rid of anything that reminded her of Harry.

What the fuck am I going to do?


(Y/N) walked out of the clinic soon after her blood test was done. They kept her there for a little while longer wanting to make sure she was okay to go home.

She pulled out her phone as she walked to her car and unlocked it. She pressed on Eva’s contact name and called her. She should’ve been on her lunch break at that time.

After 2 rings Eva finally answered. “Hello?” She asked in her usual happy voice.

“Eva” (Y/N) answered worried.

“(Y/N) what’s wrong? What did they tell you?”

“I might be pregnant Eva.” She answered softly. Her voice fading with each word.

“What?” Eva whispered back to her harshly. “(Y/N) what do you mean pregnant?”

(Y/N) unlocked her car and got in. Slamming the door shut. She leaned her head back amd covered her eyes with her arm but kept the phone on her ear. “Pregnant Eva! I might be pregnant with Harry’s baby!”

Eva looks around the break room area for amy signs of Ben. “Oh (Y/N) what are you going to do? Whag about Ben?” She whispered.

“I don’t know Eva. I just, I can only hope that I’m not pregnant. There’s still a possibility that I’m not.” Depsite everything (Y/N) still had hope. Maybe it was her just wanting for it not to be true but hope was still there. Her and Harry had used condoms and she was always sure to stay on the pill.

“I’m sorry Babe, hey I’ll go over to your place after my shift yeah? We can talk about it there in privacy. Don’t stress about it now. Relax.” Eva reassured.

“Yeah, you’re right. Listen, I’ll call you later. I’m going to try and get some errands done while I can. Might occupy my mind.” (Y/N) said looking up to the entrance of the clinic.

She widened her eyes at what she saw. Two figures walked in. Their hands clapsed together and the women’s head on the guys’ shoulder as they walked. They looked happy as ever. The women sporting a bump.

The oh so familiar guy laughing.

Harry and Gwen

She parked near the building but was hidden from a couple of cars. So she hoped Harry wouldn’t recognize her car or her.

(Y/N) didn’t even hear what Gwen said as she hung up the phone. Out of all the places they had to chose her Gynocologist clinic? Out if all the fucking places. She breathed a shaky breath and just hoped she would never have to run into them in person. That’s a circus act no one would want to see.

She glanced at them one last time as the disappeared in the building. Before pulling out of the parking space and driving away.

She was torn, if she was pregnant Harry had a right to know. Who was she to deny her child a father figure in it’s life? The question being would Harry want to be in their life.

Of course he would, Harry is a lot of things but he isn’t a low life dad.



Ben’s shift was over. He was planning on going over to (Y/N)’s house to see her. He was realky concerned about her latley. She had told him that she wasn’t feeling good and he hadn’t had time to call her and ask her how her appointment went.

Just as Ben was getting ready to get into his car he was met by the petite woman standing by it.

“Ben!” She gasped out and ran to him. Her hair was a bit messy and she looked like she’s been waiting for him, for a while.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“Ben I need to talk to you” She said with a smirk on her lips.

“Okay, about what?” He asked fixing his sweater and zipping it up. He really wanted to go see (Y/N) so he was a bit impatient to get the conversation over with.

“Ben, how about we go over to my house amd talk? It’s a long story. But it’s something (Y/N) has been hiding from you. Something you need to know. She doesn’t care about you Ben. Not like I do. She’s been playing with you and I, as a friend want you to see who she really is.”

Ben frowned as he looked at her. “What do you mean she’s lying to me? You’re confusing me. How can you just all of a sudden start telling me this?

”(Y/N)’s pregnant Ben…with CEO of Styles Enterprises Harry Styles’ baby. She’s been lying to you.“ The woman said crossing her arms. "But there’s much more than that. Let’s go somewhere private. Look I know it’s hard to believe but I have proof. She’s money hungry, so she’s got the bag secured with that baby.”

Ben looked at her speechless. That man was a multi billionaire. And wasn’t he married? Surely (Y/N) would never do something like that. She wasn’t that type of person.

How did (Y/N) meet such a high end man any ways?

“Okay, um I’ll drive us there. So your place then Eva?”

Harry Styles - “Concert High”

Okay, SO! When your best friend texts you saying nothing but ‘after show sex with Harry!’ you can’t just talk about it.. you have to write it. Also, I used my own picture from the Atlanta show because I wanted to and because I pictured him wearing this outfit in this. 

On that note *SEXUAL CONTENT*

The moment Harry gave one last kiss towards the audience and walked off stage, you knew exactly what he wanted. He gave you that look, the look that you knew meant only one thing. 

“You were-” He doesn’t even give you time to tell him how great he was on stage tonight before his lips were on yours and his hips pressed tight against yours as he grabs at you, pulling every line of your body against him. “Harry!” You pull away to gasp but smirk a little. You see the desire shooting through his green eyes and you knew you were finished, you couldn’t say no to that. 

“Let’s find somewhere a bit more private.” You give a small giggle as he takes your hand, releasing you. By now the crew was used to Harry grabbing you like this after a show, though they were  a bit caught off guard by just how feverish his kisses sometimes were, how hard his grip was on you, how they could easily tell where this was leading to when he pulls you away down the corridor behind stage. “This shall do.” 

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anonymous asked:

describe how each high school year by semester went for you

9th grade: We don’t call it a play date anymore, it is hanging out, hanging by our toes like wet lipped fruit bats, like jungle gym monkey kids. Young and swollen. Blood, immature blood, pink blood, fresh meat blood pepto bismol up the wazoo, and spit under my bed. Code names aren’t for spies, they’re for 14 year old girls with googley eyes, not that we needed them. Kevin and Grace, Ellie and Joshua, Paloma and Matt which is weird because I’m hot for him, and they kinda look like siblings. Pink shorts, black tights, Jimmy Eat World, pizza bagels and lucky charms under a fresh white linen morning like detergent sealed crust between my eyelids, you tore them open. I mean, not yet. But soon. I discover neon sex scenes, Sky Ferreira, and Skins and this is where the final hopscotch box stops; at the end of the subway platform. This is where I’m supposed to jump. Monkey balls fall on our heads as we walk home, and autumn leaves crunch like drum line snare beats. All godless girls with snakes and cherry lollipops and 9 millimeters pointed at our clits, Bend it Like Beckham under your itchy wool blankets, Alice’s mom thinks I’m cool, and I stay for dinner and crack some risky jokes like a fox among wolves. (I think he looks at me when I look away). Me and Hana FaceTime I take screenshots of her dancing with her cat. The girls who play soft ball in short shorts, the girls who call them sluts, the boys who watch. We dance through rainbows in the sprinklers on the way to the Homecoming dance and pretend we don’t care we don’t have dates. We’re floating in the cytoplasm, floating on the cotton candy overdose cause our parents drop us off at the bowling alley but we are too loyal to sneak out the back. We pool our money every Friday after school for the spring break road trip we’re going on when Hana gets a car, and one of us has lost our virginity, and none of us are scared of the dark.

Miss Budd yelled at me for not standing for the pledge of allegiance, and I was 4 years old again. My English teacher held me back, and held my hand, and gave me a safety pin for my missing button, and told me it would be. Okay.

10th grade: We were on the news that year. Cristo’s curls on KTLA, solemn, and not the boy cross eyed and high with his pants around his ankles. Suddenly we’re all standing up straight, suddenly we’re being told we can’t wear leggings because somebody posted a video of Penelope having sex with Max on Facebook. Suddenly we’re underground in the girls locker room (red varsity knee socks, Dina drowning the spider nests with Victoria’s Secret rose perfume, humid with shame and lesbian suspicion) holding our arms in front of our naked breasts, single file like ants for the syphilis test. The boys who drew penises in fire and salt on the soccer field grass, like druid frat boys, but not the boys who put gorilla glue in the classroom locks, and not the boys who wrote their hit list in the red pen on the back of Mr. Chan’s syllabus and ended up in court, who called in a bomb threat, just to get the test pushed back. We all took turns getting our ghosts exorcized in the principals office. It was pompeii and pandemonium, and nobody was safe, not even us girls sleeping wrapped in the dust of library encyclopedias. You moved away from me like I was illiciting the restless black dreams on your grandmas shitty air mattress. The sheets are clean enough, but this attic is haunted, you keep waking up in the middle of the night to your body sinking like a pirate ship caught by the Kraken, the floor gnawing at your bones again so you just. Got up. And slept somewhere else. My English teacher held me back, and told me I was a good writer but don’t be so angry, and I cried right there, and she gave me a kleenex from her Shakespeare tissue holder and I blew this stupid pain head first out of my nose. I never told you about that. Maybe if I had you would’ve felt bad for me and stayed a little longer. But you hung out with those buckwild kids under the spot by the willow tree, and it was easy. it was just snuffing out an annoyance. A mosquito licking the ruby of your earrings that you shooed away. Our birthstones were both rubies, you know, we were twin cancers with balmy skin and busted appendixes, the aliens took you once and the only explanation was a scar on your spine, and I reckon I should’ve known they’d come back for you.

(You are gonna tell your kids about these cherry cola years of golden suburbia, and midnight blue debauchery snapping teenage knees, and furrow your brow forgetting the name of the girl you spent the first two calling your best friend.) You cheered at football games. You got drunk with them at night, and you were bursting and missing teeth like a watermelon smile, you rubbed up against each other like cats they touched you in all the right places and you didn’t text me anymore. You went to sleepovers and posted photos on Instagram, I wasn’t invited, I thought this bullshit was supposed to stop happening in elementary school. All the things we thought would never happen, lockdown drills, fire drills, earthquake drills and we still weren’t prepared. It was. Pandemonium. It was. Chemical fires in Mr. Dow’s science class. And me and my plans were just. so fucking boring standing next to your cherry blossom hurricane. You didn’t wait for me after class anymore and I just. Looked so stupid trying to catch up. Blood, mature blood, cows blood in the manure for the roses to eat. Black blood, like storm sky, I dish out this milkshake I pick the scab and I lick the blood away. Thomas comes out and dubs himself the gay cliche, we walk home together on the yellow brick road, and we pray a tornado will land the school library on our corpses so we can die with those sparkly shoes on. Those ruby shoes on. The Fates gagged me with a pack of jolly ranchers. I got straight A’s while Rome was falling. Nobody has ever made me feel so small.

11th grade: New school. The kids talk different here. Depression in California is like getting a cold in mid-July. So ironic it’s almost insulting. I’m pretty sure it was raining all year, but don’t count on it, I lived sub-terrestrialy with my mothers tulip bulbs. Today’s Wednesday? I thought it was Friday? I thought yesterday was Sunday? Depression in California is like running after a rabbit in the woods. It doesn’t matter how sunny it is, you will suddenly look up and it’s night, and the trees are not your friends, even when they are as skinny and shaky as you. You will get stuck in the swamp, leave your shoes behind, and not even remember why you were out here in the first place.

Headache. Stomach ache. Lots of those, those are easy to fake. Menstrual cramps, vomiting, gut wrenching, kinda vomiting. A personal favorite. I got to get my hands dirty for that one, I got to reach for the gag reflex like a remote control and press fast forward and feel my arc capsizing, until the static buzzed and I was pale like southern gothic tragedy, I’m not bulimic I just don’t wanna go to school. Depression in California is like an abandoned zoo. Everything echoing animal shrieks. They set them free but the cages were empty long before that. I make some friends, nice ones who laugh at my jokes, and I feel like I should get a sticker for it, but I do more nervous shaking than laughing.

Depression in California is like a badly maintenanced carnival. We’ve gone around the ferris wheel 8 times now and nobody seems to notice. The cotton candy polluting my blood, running slow and globby while the kids below spin, the kids drop, the kids could die, but they just giggle hand in hand with smiling clowns who pump them full of teeth rotting sweets, the winking lights are blurry this far away, and it feels like eons before we’ll get back to the bottom. I’m out of tokens. I think I’m just gonna jump.  

12th grade: Trump won. I think I might like girls. My dad jokes about his own death so I know what it means to be angry now, like femurs forged from the goddamn ring of Isildur. Is this what’s normal now? Fucking boys who are oil slick and easy living, and lose my socks in their dorm rooms? Meet them for diner food and xans on the weekend, and everything just temporary? Is that just what everybody wants now? My brother got a green card marriage, but I guess he loves her for real now. We watch the Walking Dead until the streetlights glaze over our eyes, he asks me if I have a boyfriend, no. If I’ve had any since I last saw him, no. If no is my favorite word, yes. Thing is I’ve never been anyone’s girl cause I’ve got a volcano where I should have a stomach. I know what it is to live on the red planet. But I ignore all that and go to concerts that bleed beer and swoon for boys who drink the blood. I guess we’re used to falling off of things so we do it on purpose now. It’s not over but I know how it’s gonna end. Cracked skull, and police lights. And to the break of dawn on Brandon’s roof, boxers stained with mayonnaise, and Deadpool is probably his favorite movie or some dumb white boy shit like that. I’m not gonna cry when I leave for college, I’m gonna cry at the car rental watching the sun bleed out on the trees. I’m gonna cry in the knothole of an oak tree, hiding from the freshman mixer party in the woods I knew I shouldn’t have come to once the social anxiety starts clawing up soaked in the gallon of strawberry Crush I downed to calm myself down. You know, in some other parallel universe, my parents never divorced and we dispute where the sugar pantry should be at inopportune times, and I don’t straight jacket myself with the echoplex sound of my mother screaming over my dead body just to not inhale the chlorox under the sink. I was so bloody, I just wanted to be clean.

I thought it was like the 80’s, the rusty exhaust pipe of Matt’s car turning the snow black while he’s wasting time daydreaming of my piston pumping sloppy hips, and rumored things that happen in the backseat, and kicking cans in no particular direction, and first love sticky and first love stabbed into your kidney and you never really recover. I thought it was sixteen candles, and say anything, but it’s getting bloodshot squirrelly smoking hash in the disabled bathroom stall. It’s a personality disorder grown up from the ground like a mushroom that is poison to the touch, and thrown away birthday presents, and valentines day balloons stuck in the trees. It’s dropping the last slice of college acceptance celebration cake on the floor for your dogs breakfast, and cartoon rain puddles for eyes talking about how scary it is to drive on the freeway. Karina and Maddie rough housing like pit bulls in fifth period cause we don’t do shit in that class and pretending that we are not all gonna be strangers in 6 weeks before we. Before we. Please don’t make me say it out loud.

My English teacher held me back, and told me to make up the quiz I missed, and that was the only time I will ever be happy that some strangers just stay that way. And Daddy, I will miss you when you leave me, and Daddy I will meet you in the next life you just gotta wait for me ok?

I am not the kind of girl people have crushes on. I am the kind of girl who can survive 18 stealing food from parties, couch surfing, living like a lightning bolt. There one minute, and gone the next.


Part 1

Because I didn’t want @wonderwall1923 to die


“The thought of not having you was already becoming a nightmare.”

As Harry drove home, he was extremely mad. The reasonable part of him was now long gone. He hadn’t once stopped to think about his actions. There was a little part of him that warned him that he had been too harsh with you. But as said, logic was no longer something that he was aware of. He had had some drinks throughout the night. Not too many to make him unable to walk or drive, but just enough to make his mind a little tipsy; enough to block out any reasonable thought lingering at the back of his head. He drove home at a great speed, trying not to let his mind wander back to the crying girl he had left behind.

It wasn’t until he got home and begun to take off his coat, and his fingers softly grasped the soft velvet box in his pocket, that he was actually able to comprehend the situation at hand. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to go like. The two of you were to have a fun night in which later on he would get down on one knee and ask you to marry him.

As he stared at the ring in front of him, the very ring that his sister had helped him choose, he couldn’t stop his mind from going back to the scenes that had just taken place. His eyes watered as his brain tried to register what had happened.

You had accidentally spilled out his secret to the press.

And although yes, he was upset and this ruined some of the plans he had for the launching of his solo career, this was exactly what it had been; an accident.

The way he had treated you was in no way how he had been taught to. His mind flashed with pictures of him yelling at you and you visibly flinching away. How he had grabbed you so roughly and thrown you out of the car.

He looked out of the window, lightening flashed in the night sky and heavy raindrops loudly hit the shut windows of the house. His eyes shut tightly as the whole situation became clearer. As the guilt began to settle in, he started to panic.

You were alone out there, in the pouring rain at midnight, and he was the one to be blamed for that.

Harry had always praised himself on being a gentle man. The credit went to his mother, and he was proud of himself for being able to stay grounded despite the fame that surrounded him. As far as dating was concerned, he had been taught to always treat a woman with love and respect. It was a no-brainer that Harry was known for being respectful and kind.

However, as the situation became more and more pronounced, he felt his heart sinking lower in his chest. You weren’t just any girl, you were his girlfriend; his better half. The woman that he loved with every piece of him, the woman whom he wanted to marry and have a family with.

He felt his own heart break at the realization of what he had just done.

Just then, his phone began to ring. For a second, he thought you were the one calling him, before he realized that your phone was still in the car, something you hadn’t been able to pick up before he kicked you out of the car.

Once again, his heart ached at the memory.

He looked down at the phone to see his sister’s name popping up on the screen. He accepted the call before lifting the phone up to his ear.

“Did she say yes?!” His sister’s excited voice came out of the speaker.

And for the hundredth time that night, Harry felt his heart breaking all over again.

“Gemma, I fucked up. I fucked up bad.”

You had managed to begin walking. However, with the pace you had, you were sure that a tortoise could overtake you. In your defense though, that was the fastest you could walk with an aching ankle and the heavy rain resisting your footsteps. You didn’t exactly have a particular destination as to where you were going, but you kept on walking anyway.

You would be lying if you said that you weren’t scared. The roads seemed to look sketchier, darkness was everywhere, and you could barely see anything. Occasionally, someone would pass by you and you would hold your breath, scared out of your mind. It wasn’t until they would safely pass by that you would calm down again.

As wrong as it was, the only thing keeping you sane right then were Harry’s words that he had sweetly whispered to you a few months ago when you were being taken for knee surgery.

“Be a lion, baby. Can you do that for me? Be my little lioness and hold on for me?”

You wanted to scream. You wanted him, you wanted him so bad. But you had done him wrong, and he had done you wrong too.

You tried to maintain a strong exterior, repeating Harry’s words like a mantra in your mind over and over again.

At last, you reached a small park. The rain had slowed down much now, and you were able to find shelter underneath the metal tin sheet inside the park.

You sat there, with your arms tightly wrapped around yourself, trying to keep warm. You had run out of tears by now, and you had no idea what you were going to do next.

What did this mean for you and Harry?

Was he worried?

Was he trying to look for you?

You prayed that he was safe. For a second, you felt like laughing at your thoughts.

Here you were, drenched and sitting in a park with nowhere to go, and it was all his doing, and still you were worried for him.

It was dangerous, yes, but the day’s tiredness and the night’s events were taking a toll on you, and soon enough you found it impossible to keep your eyes open any longer.

After driving around for more than an hour, the park was Harry’s last hope. He entered the park, hoping with everything in him that he would be able to find you. He looked around, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. He was close to ripping out his own hair out of frustration, when he saw a silhouette.

The person was lying on a bench, tightly hugging them self. He went nearer, and a gasp escaped him as he realized that it was you.

His very own girlfriend whom he had abandoned in the middle of nowhere.

As he took in your condition, he had never hated himself more.

Your arms were tightly wrapped around your own body, desperately trying to stay warm. Your clothes were drenched, and your feet seemed to be in a very compromising position.

He wanted to punch himself continuously until he could feel the same pain that you were feeling. His heart twisted in his chest, and he was almost sure that he was crying. He leaned down on his knees in front of you. Brushing back a loose strand from your face, he contemplated on what to do.

He could sit there with you for the rest of the night, and when you would wake up, he could talk to you.

Or he could carry you to his car and take you home right then.

However, given what had happened, he wasn’t sure if you would appreciate that. But as he looked at the dark sky above and the eerie silence surrounding the both of you, he knew that staying there wasn’t safe.

He had no choice, so he decided to wake you up. Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward, whispering your name softly. He had no idea how you would react. Either you would be extremely mad at him, or you would be terribly, terribly, upset. He didn’t know which one he preferred, but one thing he was sure of was that he couldn’t lose you.

Not now, not ever.

The both of you had made mistakes, his being the biggest, but he hoped that you two could get past this and continue to be together. Even if you stayed with him, he knew that it would take time for things to go back to normal.

He was willing to wait though, he was willing to do close to anything to stay with you.

He softly said your name once again, gently rubbing your arm.  He didn’t want to startle you, given the situation at hand.

As your eyes gently opened, you found yourself staring back at your favorite pair of emerald green eyes.

For a minute, you hoped that it had all been a dream. That you could just snuggle in your boyfriend’s arms and everything could be alright again. However, that wasn’t the case, and you knew that you had to be mature and face your problems confidently. You sat up on the bench while rubbing your eyes to chase away the tiredness enveloping you from the day. A silent yawn escaped you as you looked at Harry kneeling in front of the bench you were sitting on.

“Wha’ are you doing here?” You mumbled sleepily, still not fully awake.

“W- Was looking around for you, love. Goin’ crazy trying to find you.” He replied, stumbling upon his own words.

You looked around, before settling your gaze on him and frowning.

“Started caring too soon, don’t you think?”

You could practically see his face fall, head bowing down in defeat.

You felt bad for a second, before strictly reminding yourself that he was the one to be blamed for what you had been through in the last hour. After a couple of moments of subtle silence, his gaze lifted to meet yours.

“I’m sorry, pet. I really am. Went mad for a couple of minutes. Didn’t realize what I was doing. I had a couple of drinks during the night, as well. Know that’s no excuse though, I know that.”

His words were delivered in a pleading cry, full of remorse. You knew he was apologetic, but what had happened wasn’t something that could be fixed by a simple apology.

All the same, you knew that being mad at Harry wasn’t the solution. You had messed up too, and it was only fair that you gave each other a chance to work it out and explain yourselves.

With that thought, you slowly nodded, before getting up from the bench you were sitting on.

Harry immediately went into panic mode, unaware of what your next move would be. He slowly rose from his previous kneeling positon, ready to stop you from leaving him.

However, you stopped him before he could say anything.

“I’m sorry I divulged details about your solo career, but I didn’t mean to do that. I would never hurt you on purpose, you know that. Or at least, I thought you knew that.” You said, in a low voice.

Harry felt the pain in your voice piercing through his heart, tearing it up in half. He didn’t know if he was supposed to talk or not, and the last thing he needed was to dig his hole even deeper. So he stayed silent, letting you continue before explaining things from his perspective.

“I didn’t see you throughout the dinner. I had a whole speech prepared about how proud I was of your acting career. However, I knew that you wouldn’t appreciate it at a time like this. So I decided to save it for later. When I went into the car though, I could feel that your fury hadn’t dissipated. I didn’t know what to say to make it better. Maybe there was nothing that I could have really said at that moment that would make it better. And then when you burst out like that, I was lost. That wasn’t something that I expected from you.”

Harry had to bite his lip to keep from speaking up, his eyes watering at the pain of the situation.

“But I know it was a mistake. A misapprehension, if you will. A misstep caused by your hotheadedness. I can understand that, I suppose. Doesn’t make it hurt any less though. You promised to protect me, to be with me every step of the way. To be my patronage. It bewildered me as to how you could just simply leave me there and drive away. I was scared, so scared. It made me question if you even cared, if you were ready to leave me because I accidentally spoke about the fact that you were working on your solo album. I didn’t know what to think, Harry, and I still don’t. ”

You were standing a few steps away from him, but Harry felt like the distance between the two of you was larger than the sea. He wanted nothing more than to pull you up tight against his chest and kiss you until you understood that his career meant nothing to him if you weren’t there with him.

Although he knew that it was his turn to speak, he couldn’t do it while being so far away from you.

He took a few steps towards you, his arms going to wrap around your waist until your back was flushed against his chest, holding you to him tightly.

You let him do it, placing your hands on his and giving them a tight squeeze.

“I know you would never do that to me intentionally, my love. Of course I know that. I don’t know why I became so mad, but I’m sorry. For everything that happened tonight. I should have stayed with you during dinner, should have gone with you to the car. And most of all, I shouldn’t have burst out on you like that. That was very out of line of me, and I still can’t believe that I actually did that. When I couldn’t find you, for a second I didn’t mind you leaving me, just wanted you to be safe. But the thought of not having you was already becoming a nightmare. You know I’m not usually so easily inflamed. I’m quite good at controlling my temper most of the time. You know that, pet. I’m sorry that you had to go through that. I’m really sorry. But Y/N, if you give me a chance, I promise you I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I vow to never repeat that mistake again. You’re important to me. I’ve never loved a woman before as much as I love you, apart from my Mum and Gem, of course. Would pick you over my career any given day, you’re my motivation in the hard times. Couldn’t be here without you, love.”

Suddenly, you shrugged off his hands from your waist, and his heart shuddered in fear that you hadn’t accepted his apology. However, he was once again left in awe of your unpredictable personality when you wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his in a passionate kiss.

You both knew that this didn’t suddenly make everything right. It would take some time for things to completely go back to normal.

And Harry knew that the ring in his pocket would have to wait a couple more days.

But the two of you also knew that you’d make it. It would take some time and patience, but together you were sure that you could survive through this, and whatever more life had to throw your way.

kyasuu  asked:

So I don't usually do scenarios but imagine: Lance has a bad dream where he thinks everyone is angry with him, and when he wakes up he's so sick he's delirious and he thought the dream actually happened. So when he leaves the room everyone sees how sick he is and is like D: and when he mumbles he's sorry they're so confused like Lance what are you apologizing for??

*writes you a fic to show my unconditional and undying love for u*

Keep reading

Here’s the Baby. {Request}

Word Count: 2.1k
**Rated MA for mature audiences only! NEGAN’S MOUTH!**
Notes:  Thank you @unchartedghoul for requesting! Writing pregnancy was new to me, so I did the best I could, I hope you enjoy! Tagging @negans-network also for anyone else that has requested a fic like this.~
Pregnant Reader x Over Protective Negan = Father Negan and bonus baby scene! No smut.  

This beautiful (heartbreaking) gif doesn’t belong to me! Just the one I kept looking at to get motivation.~ *v*

Keep reading

Dull Aches

Summary: Dan has been experiencing headaches but doesn’t want to worry Phil so he keeps it to himself until he can’t anymore
Word count: 2.7k
uh hi, i don’t know what this is, it’s unedited, I wrote it in about two hours, there’s a lot of medical terminology and it might not be 100% accurate and it shows how bad i am with endings woo pls read

Tw: hospital, injury, seizures It started off as a dull throbbing in his temples that came and went every few weeks. He’d wake up with a slight pain and groan in annoyance at it’s occurrence, pop a paracetamol and be on his way with his day.

He’s had these headaches for a while now, for at least the last three months; maybe longer.  But they weren’t a big deal. He wasn’t worried about them and he didn’t want Phil to worry. Phil is a hypochondriac and would search for Dan’s symptoms on Google and diagnose with brain cancer before Dan could even blink. A slight exaggeration but not far stretched.

The pain started getting worse over the course of the next month, it was probably stressed related. They had announced their second world tour and a lot of the venues needed to be confirmed and ticketing needed some extra information. Emails were being rapidly sent and they were constantly talking to someone on the phone. He needed to film another video for his main channel, it was his turn to edit the gaming video and he was working with a charity to help with cyberbullying.

“Dan” Phil snapped his fingers in front of Dan’s face, close enough to startle him out of a daydream. Dan blinked slowly and realised they were filming, the Sims open on the computer in front of him and the camera on “You just completely zoned out”

“Sorry” Dan smiled apologetically. A sharp stabbing sensation drumming into the back of his head. “Okay what were we doing again?”

“Choosing Dil’s dog” Phil looked at him, analysed him in a way that made Dan uncomfortable. “Are you okay? You look quite pale”

“I’m fine” Dan smiles again and scrolls down the list of dogs available “We could get Dil a fox”

“A fox is not a dog” Phil says. They focus on filming for another hour, Phil doesn’t mention it and Dan doesn’t bring it up.

A steady beep is filled the room, he can’t see anything in this room.  There’s yelling and noise everywhere.

“He needs-”


Hands are all over his body, touching him and he wants to yell for Phil but he can’t open his mouth. Lights are appearing in patches of red and orange, his eyes must be shut. Where’s Phil? He needs him. He wants Phil. He wants Phil. He wants -

“Dan!” Phil’s loud voice brings Dan out of this dream.  A dream that felt so real. But Phil’s here, Phil’s here and gripping onto his bicep like his life depended on it. “You were shaking in your sleep and you kicked me awake, what happened?”

“Bad dream” is all Dan says before shifting his body closer to Phil’s just to make sure he was really there. He was. Phil was lying next to him in their king size bed, wearing his Star Wars pyjama bottoms and an old Pokemon shirt, hair tousled like he’d been moving around in his sleep and eyes unfocused. It was comforting knowing how normal this is, how normal it is for them to sleep in the same bed and bring the other back to reality.

“Did you want to talk about it?” Phil asks, voice thick with sleep. At any other time Dan would think it was sexy, arousing even but right now it was anything but.

“I couldn’t find you” is all Dan says before Phil’s got his arm around Dan’s body and bringing him closer than they already were.

“You’ll always find me”

He feels like he’s walking in a dream world. He feels hazy and everything around him isn’t real. The cereal he’s pouring doesn’t feel right, he feels like he’s not pouring it but someone else is. He doesn’t remember getting the bowl out of the cupboard or the spoon out of the utensil drawer nor does he remember getting the milk out of the fridge or what cereal is his. He feels like he’s on autopilot and then Phil’s standing next to him.

“Eating my cereal today are we?” Phil teases “Payback for me eating yours?”

“Yeah” Dan says back, a little laugh in his voice like he took Phil’s cereal on purpose rather than on accident “You cereal thief”

“Lucky for you I’m in a toast mood today” Phil takes the loaf of bread out of the bread bin sitting next to the microwave “Toasty toast with butter and marmalade for the gods, I would make sweet, sweet love to marmalade if I could”

“You could” Dan picks up the bowl of cereal he doesn’t remember making and makes his way to the dining room table “But say good bye to making sweet, sweet love to me because I’m sure as hell not letting a marmalade dick anywhere near me” He ignores the squawks coming from Phil as he smiles to himself and sits at his chair.

“He’s going to be okay, right?”

“Did you say something?” Dan asks Phil, his body swiveling to face his boyfriend.

“No?” Phil furrows his eyebrows and looked cautiously over the top of his glasses. Now Dan is confused, he had clearly heard someone asking if he’s going to be okay, not even knowing who he is, and the only other someone in this apartment is Phil. “Did you hear something?”

“No, must’ve been something else” Dan smiles reassuringly as Phil keeps looking over at him. He didn’t want Phil to worry. He never wants to make him worry. He brings his pointer finger up to his temple and rubs it softly, trying to ease the ache that’s starting. It’s fine.

Dan’s filming a gaming video when he starts tasting petrol or something very similar to the smell of a service station. He crinkles his nose at the taste and reaches down to the floor to have a drink of water that he’d brought in with him. He coughs as the taste of petrol stays in his mouth and Phil stops playing the game knowing this would be edited out.

“Ready to continue?” Phil asks taking a sip of water himself. Dan coughs again, almost retches at the taste in his mouth and nods, picking up the controller and continuing like nothing was wrong.

Except something was wrong. They filmed for another half an hour, the awful taste in his mouth never leaving and they’ve had to pause three more times so he could drink some water and cough. There’s a distant ringing in his ears, this sometimes happens when the game has been too loud so he reaches up and scratches at his ears nonchalantly in an attempt to stop the ringing.

The pain in his head is back, pounding away from all directions. He thought the previous migraine was bad but this? This was the worst pain he had ever experienced. He could faintly hear Phil calling out to him but it sounded muffled and far away as the chair slid out from underneath from where he was perched on the edge of the seat and he fell backwards onto the tiled floor with a loud smack, hitting his head in the process.

Phil didn’t know what to do. In his entire 30 years of living, he’s never witnessed someone having a seizure. That’s what was happening. Dan was having a seizure. His muscles were tensing and jerking around in an uncoordinated fashion, his head hitting the wheels of the chair that had moved during the fall. He could move the chair, Phil thought, move the objects around him to make it easier. He was panicking, he didn’t know what to do, how to help Dan as he shook on the floor, his lips turning blue and a dark patch forming around his crotch. He frantically scrambled around, shakily grabbing the phone closest to him and dialing the emergency number.

“Please! My boyfriend” Phil all but shouts down the phone “He’s having a seizure, I don’t know what to do, he’s turning blue! Please, help!”

Dan’s not aware of what’s happening, he’s in pain but he can’t comprehend exactly where the pain is coming from. His legs and head probably but it’s hard to tell. He can hear Phil screaming, there’s a lot of screaming and yelling, a beep being heard every few seconds. He can feel his body arch and he wants to scream out in pain, yell that it hurts but he can’t. He can feel hands on him, a lot of hands but he’s not sure where they are on his body. He wants to reach out for Phil but he doesn’t know where Phil is, it’s the dream all over again.

“You have to wake up, Dan!” Phil shouts as darkness overcomes

Dan gasps and opens his eyes to an overbearingly white room. It’s so white that it’s hurting his already sore eyes. He closes them again and tries to open them again, it feels like hours before he could open his eyes. Like he could breathe after being submerged in water for a long period of time, gasping and gagging at the breathing mask covering his mouth and nose. He slowly brings his hand up to try and take it off but a hand stops him from doing so. His mind immediately goes to Phil but it doesn’t feel like his hand, a touch he’s grown so used to. He looks at the fingernails, elegant and long but void of any sort of polish and his eyes travel up the arm and to the face of his mother.

“Don’t move it, sweetie” She says softly “I’ve already called for the doctor”

Doctor. His mind was still fuzzy, nothing felt real and it was why he didn’t comprehend the fact he was in hospital. Now that he had gathered where he was, he could start piecing together what little information he had. He looked down at his body, it seemed smaller than he remembered, he hadn’t been this thin in a very long time. Looking back up to his mother, a lock of curly brown hair fell into his face, when did his hair get this long?

“Mum?” He whispered

“Yes?” She asked, crouching down next to his bed. “Do you know where you are?”

“Hospital” He murmured slowly, eyes darting around the white room. A familiar, steady beep of his heart rate in the background, filling up the silences.

“That’s right” She says softly, letting her hand grip onto his own. He wasn’t sure if it was to comfort him or herself. “Do you remember what happened?”

He pauses, looking for the words to say. “I was with Phil” he started, speaking slowly as he tried to remember the words he wanted to say “And I had a headache and I fell”

“You were with Phil?” she asks, eyes wide in shock. Dan nodded awkwardly, his neck hurt and made it difficult to nod. Before his mum could say anything, a doctor walked in and greeted his mum with a polite nod.

“I see you’re awake Mr Howell” he starts off and flips onto another page on the clipboard and hooks it over the end of his bed. “Let me remove the mask and then I have a few questions for you”

Dan coughs once the mask is removed properly and takes a few deep breaths to get used to breathing on his own once again. The doctor handed him a plastic cup which he shakily held and took a sip out of, he spluttered all the water out of his mouth and let it dribble down his chin as he attempted a second sip to soothe his throat that hadn’t been used in so long.

The doctor gave him an overall check up, making sure everything seemed alright and that he wasn’t in any serious pain.

“Okay” he started grabbing a pen out of his coat pocket and the clipboard. “On a scale of 1-10, how much pain are you in?”

“6” he replied after a few moments to think about it. His head was annoying him but it wasn’t bothering him that much, his left leg had an ache to it as well. He told the doctor so.

“The pain in your leg is normal after amputation, you may feel like your leg is still there hence we call it a phantom limb and we can get some morphine for the headache, surgery can do that to you” he looks over to Dan once he hears the rustling of the crinkly sheets. Dan’s glancing down at his leg, there was only one. He shakily brings a hand up to his head, feeling slightly greasy hair and then a large patch that feels like velvet. He runs his hand curiously over the area and hisses when his fingers hit a large area of raised skin and stitches. While he was trying to gather his thoughts about all the overwhelming information he’s received, his mother quietly tells the doctor what Dan had told her previously, that he doesn’t know how he was really admitted and how he lost his leg. He purses his lips and nods tightly before turning back to Dan.

“Mr Howell” he clears his throat “Mr Howell, can you tell me about Phil?”

“Phil” Dan repeats “He’s my boyfriend”

“How long have you known Phil?”

“8 years”

“When did you meet Phil?”

“We met in person on the 19th of October 2009” his mum has a hand covering her mouth and the doctor looks grim. As he jots down what Dan has said.

“Mr Howell, do you know what date it is?” he asks. Dan thinks about it and shakes his head, no. “It’s 5th of November 2009”

“No” Dan shakes his head. “It’s not”

“It is” the doctor shows Dan the date on his iPhone, the 3GS.

“Where’s Phil?” Dan demands, a sudden burst of anger shooting through him. “Where is he? Why isn’t he here?”

“Phil’s at his house, honey” his mum answers carefully “I didn’t know how to contact him and tell him what happened. Your phone was destroyed and we didn’t know what to do”

“Mr Howell” the doctor suddenly asks “Do you know why you’re here?”

“I told you” Dan gritted his teeth. “I fell off my chair and something happened”

“You were in a serious car crash, Mr Howell” he says “You were hit by a speeding drunk driver who pushed your car into a tree on the 18th of October this year. You were on your death bed and we had no choice but to put you in a medically induced coma due to the excruciating pain you were experiencing. Your left leg was completely shattered and damaged too many nerves for us to save and you had severe head injuries following the crash. You experienced several seizures including one that left you not breathing a few days ago, we had to restart your heart and use a defibrillator. You’re extremely lucky to be alive right now”

Dan’s mind was whirling, it started hurting more and more and his eyes became glossy. He made no move to wipe away the tears as the information sinks in. His life that he built with Phil wasn’t real, he only had two videos on his YouTube channel, the world tours didn’t happen, the book didn’t happen. He hasn’t even met Phil. Phil doesn’t know what happened.

The last thought is what makes him cry the most, thinking about Phil being confused about Dan not answering his messages that he most likely left on all of his social media accounts and in his text messages, maybe Phil went to the train station anyway; just in case, only to find Dan not there getting off the train and the next eight years never happened.

Their plans for the future weren’t going to happen, the tabs that were left open on Dan’s computer with houses big enough for the two of them and more, the tabs for the local animal shelter on Phil’s laptop where they were looking for the perfect dog for them. The world tour won’t happen and their future together won’t happen.

He wishes he fucking died in the crash because this, this is the most painful thing he has ever experienced in his entire life.