Ready to Leap (Chapter 49; The End)
AU with B as a band teacher and reader as an English teacher. Fluff and smut. Chapters 1-48 can be found on my Masterlist in my bio.
Brendon x reader.
Warnings: So...we’ve (@beautiful-tragic-fallout) created a points system for smut. Also! The new decade brought us new scale items. Enjoy. 😘
0.25 for handjob
0.25 for fingering
0.25 for masturbation
0.25-0.5 for (mild) cum-play
0.5 for blowing him
0.5 for going down on her
0.6 for cockwarming
0.75-1.0 for sex, vanilla
1.5-2.0 for sex, advanced positions
3.0 for bondage, spanking, other kinks, or public sex.
This chapter has a smut score of 1.75, and other warnings include language, dirty talk, minor angst, fluff, literary analysis, and...that’s all I think.
I’m tired and it’s over and done and I’m at peace with it. We had a good ride, y’all. My eternal thanks to @panicsinning for blessing me with this storyline, @beautiful-tragic-fallout for helping me with angst and letting me rant about plot points, @i-think-im-ready-to-go and @yagirlcammmm for always lending an ear when I needed to arbitrate an idea with myself, my patrons for encouraging me always and telling me I’m not crazy, and all of you readers for hanging in there with me through my emotional bullshit. Maybe one day I’ll do a redux of all of this and make it something better. For now though, I hope it’ll do.
-||-
“This is-“ you falter as you step into your home. “This is weird.” Brendon’s hand squeezes yours and you squeeze back reassuringly. “Not - I don’t think it’s a bad weird. Just a strange weird. Being back.” You take a shaky breath and turn to press your face to his chest.
“I know, Kitten,” he soothes, stroking your back. “I know. But it’s okay. We’re okay.” His lips find the top of your head and you steady yourself. “Do you want to go upstairs and I’ll bring the bags in?”
“I don’t - I don’t want to go up there alone,” you finally whimper. Your eyes are closed; you don’t know what seeing the wreckage of the nursery will do to you, but you don’t anticipate it will be anything good. He nods; you feel it rather than see it, and his hand moves in soft circles over your back. “Why don’t we both bring in bags and then we can go up together?”
“That,” Brendon murmurs, “is a great idea.” And with that, you both turn and head back to his car to retrieve the small amount of luggage you brought with you on your retreat. As you trudge up the stairs, he calls your name softly.
“Bren?” You meet his eyes and he looks uneasy. “What is it?”
“Zack and I - the day trip we took - we came back here and cleaned up the nursery.” He looks down at the floor. You’re silent. “I just wanted you to know before you got in there and saw it.”
“Okay.” Your voice is flat, unsure.
“We - renovated it.”
“You renovated it?” You repeat, still unclear on what he’s really saying. He nods. “What does that mean, you renovated it?”
“I-“ he falters. “We - you wanted a big walk-in closet, so-“ you’re afraid you understand now, so you cut him off by turning on your heel and pushing open the bedroom door. “Y/n-“
You ignore him and race to the nursery room door, shoving it open. The sob that forces its way out of your body sends you to your knees. You grope blindly, tears rolling. “All of her things-“ you gasp in anguish. “Where did you put all of her things?” You turn and stare at him, fury blazing in your eyes. “Where are her things?”
“Storage mostly. And- well. Some things got thrown away.”
“You-“ you’re broken, staring at the carpet. “Storage? Thrown away?”
“Y/n, please-“
“You put our baby’s things in storage like we’d forget about her? You threw her things away like she’s trash?” You’re on your feet now, hitting his chest as the sobs wrack your body. His hands wrap around your fists and he holds you tightly.
“Y/n, take a breath.” His voice is firm and his eyes are steady on yours. “Breathe.” You take a shaky breath and he nods, telling you to keep going. “I’m going to talk now,” he says. “All of her clothing and the larger furniture pieces are in the walk-in storage shed at the back of the property. The pieces of her crib got thrown away. I also threw away the diaper genie.”
“Why would you-“
“Because we don’t need a room dedicated to her to remember her. Because we love her and will always remember her and a room dedicated to our loss isn’t healthy.”
“But what if we-“
“Don’t,” Brendon says in a low voice. “Don’t, Y/n. I know what you’re thinking and the answer is no.” You feel crushed and he must read it on your face, so he amends his response. “I don’t mean no, we won’t have more children. I want a family with you, darling. I do. But I don’t think we should focus on that right now, regardless. But what I do mean is, even when or if we have a second child, no, we won’t use this room or those furniture pieces. Y/n, we both know we couldn’t stand to have them in this space, using that furniture.” You process this and he drops your wrists. “I know. I know it’s hard. But it’s the right thing to do. Do you still want to hit me?” He eyes you warily and you shake your head wearily.
“I’m just so tired.” You feel numb and you step back from him. “I’m going to take a nap.” He can hear the dull quality in your voice and he reaches for you. You pull away though, and, stripping your clothes off, crawl into the bed that now feels so foreign. You take another hesitant breath before turning to look at him. “You can come to bed too if you want.”
He takes the invitation graciously and crosses the room, shedding clothes as he goes. When he gets into the bed, you roll over and cling to your pillow. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you sooner,” he whispers. “I should have prepared you. I just - I really loved seeing you so content on the car ride home and I didn’t want to -“
“I understand.” It takes a huge amount of effort for you to say those words, but you realize that you do mean them. “And it’s okay. I forgive you.” Those words are easier but just as true. “It’s just strange.”
“All of it is strange,” Brendon agrees, hesitantly scooting closer to you. “Can I - hold you?” You nod and he scoots even closer, pressing his face to your shoulder. “Get some rest. I love you.”
“I love you too,” you whisper, squeezing his hand. You mean that one too. You feel a sense of relief wash over you both. You’re going to be okay.
-||-
“Darlin,” Brendon groans, rolling over and burying his face in your neck. “I don’t want to get up.” He groans again and you sigh, flinging an arm over his body. “What’s on the to-do list for the day?”
You open one eye and squint at him in the early morning light. “B, you know nothing has changed. We’ve been home for - what? Three weeks now? And the stay at home order has been in effect for...two weeks and three days? You don’t have to get up, and you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Social distancing continues and we don’t need to do anything. We can lay here all day.”
“Mmmmmph,” he mumbles, nuzzling your shoulder. “Good. All I wanna do today is make you breakfast in bed, make you come a few times-“ he hesitates. “Is that okay?” His nuzzling of your skin becomes soft, warm kisses as you ponder. The sex has been varied like your mood - there are some days when you’re crawling up the wall for him, absolutely desperate for him to fuck you, and others when you just need to snuggle into his hoodie and turn off all the lights and sleep the days away. But his offer now-
“Uh huh,” you whisper, luxuriating in his embrace. “Yeah. You’ve been so good to me these past weeks - and I know no one could have expected this - but…you’ve made it pretty okay-” you fall silent. “So much for that New York trip, huh?”
“Yeah,” he agrees sleepily. “Don’t you worry though.” He yawns once, rolling onto his back and bringing you with him, curled into his side. “I’m still gonna take my Kitten on the best vacation when all of this is over.” You purr contentedly and kiss his chest. “I might go back to sleep for a while,” Brendon manages through another yawn. “Will you be okay?”
“Yup,” you say through your own yawn. “I’m gonna sleep more too.” You snuggle down into his arms and close your eyes. “Maybe we can finish the backyard when we get up?”
“Sounds good,” Brendon agrees, voice revealing that he’s fading fast. “Sleep well, love.”
-||-
You’re the first to crawl out of bed and you sigh contentedly as your feet hit the soft carpet. You shrug into one of your silk robes he left draped over the post by your head and, standing quietly, slip into the closet. You catch your breath the way you always do - your hand flying to your throat. You’d think you’d be used to it by now - her room, her nursery - gone. This gorgeous walk-in closet in its place. It is gorgeous, you concede, running your fingers along the glossy shelves as you pluck a pair of leggings from a pile. You wiggle them up your hips and, letting the robe drop, you cross to a different stack of sports bras and t-shirts.
You turn to the center of the room and let your gaze wander over the long table running the length of the room, covered in trays with your varied accessories and jewelry. Social distancing has caused you to par down your accessories, so you slip your engagement ring on (you always sleep with your wedding band on), and slide a pair of diamond studs into your ears.
Turning to a large 3-way mirror, you examine yourself. “Fine,” you say with a shrug. You grin when Brendon stumbles into view behind you, sweatpants slung low on his hips and bare chest still flushed from sleeping pressed against you. He comes up behind you and caresses your hips and pressing his mouth softly to your neck.
“You are fine,” he purrs, and you giggle, swatting at his ass playfully. “What?” He looks teasingly offended, and you roll your eyes. “You do! Fine as hell. My wife is fine as hell and I want to kiss her.” He nuzzles your neck longingly. You turn in his arms and embrace him eagerly. “I wanna do a lot more than kiss her,” he mumbles against your lips. “If she’ll let me.”
“Yeah,” you whisper, running your hands through his hair. “Yeah, I want you too.” He smiles once more and kisses down your neck. His hands slide up under your t-shirt and he gets it off of you with ease. It drops to the floor and he sets his attention next on your bra. He sheds that with just as much ease and his hands come up to cup your breasts.
“Look at my wife,” he murmurs in your ear. You meet his gaze in the mirror and take a sharp breath. “Look at my sexy wife. Topless and letting me feel her up, play with her nipples-“ he tugs at both gently, making you moan low in the back of your throat. “My wife is fucking gorgeous. Now to get these leggings off of her-“ he removes his hands from your breasts and slides your leggings down your thighs. “No panties?”
“No panties,” you confirm in a hoarse voice.
“What a good girl Kitten is for me,” Brendon groans, shedding his own sweatpants to stand behind you totally naked. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Uh huh,” you gasp as two of his fingers just barely trace your heat. “I did.” He grins and kisses your shoulder. You cry out as his fingers go deep, scissoring inside you. “Oh fuck, Brendon...”
“Brace yourself,” he says in a low voice. His eyes are dark and his lower lip is swollen from biting. You obediently place both hands on the mirror and he grasps your hips with one hand; the other is still working fervently between your thighs. “You want me?”
You nod. You can feel the slick head of his cock nudging the back of your thigh. “Please. I want you so badly.” You gasp when he pushes into you in one firm thrust - “oh fuck yes!” Your fingers claw at the mirror and you lift your head to watch him pant and moan behind you.
“So fucking tight,” he grunts, both hands on your hips. “So fucking tight.” Your legs are pressed together by your leggings that are only halfway down your thighs and he’s pushing hard against the resistance.
“Remember when-“ you gasp, throwing your head back and moaning as he goes deeper, “you fucked me in your office? And had me keep my legs together?”
“Yeah,” Brendon manages, smacking your ass and working harder. “Yeah, I do. That was so long ago.”
“It was,” you agree. “It was like- 39 chapters ago.” You meet his eyes in the mirror and he looks confused -brows furrowed, eyes narrowed. “Sorry - I mean - so many months ago. What? Somebody’s saying stuff. I don’t know.” You toss your hair back out of your face and push back against him for more. “Fuck me.”
“Absolutely,” Brendon says, hips slamming into yours. Your slip of the tongue is forgotten and you whine in pleasure as he drives you closer and closer to orgasm. “Look at us,” he says gruffly. “Look at us fucking. Look at you, taking me like this.” His voice alone is enough to send you over the edge; his cock throbbing inside of you is almost too much.
“I’m gonna come,” you whisper weakly. “Oh fuck me; I’m gonna come.” He smacks your ass once lightly and tells you that you’re exactly right, you are, and you groan and press into his touch. He reaches down in front of you and grazes your clit lightly- you scream and feel your entire body go rigid as your orgasm rips through you. “Oh fuck!”
“Fuck yes,” Brendon sighs in pleasure, gripping your hips once more as he comes, pushing hard into your tightening body. “God, I love you.” His words are staggered between thrusts and you murmur it back to him as your own climax pulses in time with his. “I fucking love you.” He kisses your cheek as he pulls out of you and you whimper, turning quickly and falling into his arms. “Commere, Kitten,” he soothes, lifting you off of your feet.
“Sleepy,” you mumble, nuzzling under his chin. “I’m sleepy now. I got ready for the day and then you came in and fucked all the energy out of me.” He laughs softly and kisses your forehead.
“I’m not sorry,” he teases as he places you on the bed and tugs your leggings all the way off. You giggle and shake your head and say you’re not sorry either. “Good,” Brendon says with a gentle smile. “Now you rest more. I’ll go see what I can do about making you breakfast in bed.”
“It’s noon,” you point out as you wiggle under the sheets and blankets. He grins at you from the doorway and you feel a rush of pleasure go through your body. Your husband is really gorgeous and kind and wonderful. It’s going to be a good day.
“Maybe so. But who are you gonna tell if I make you funfetti pancakes at noon on a Tuesday?” He cocks an eyebrow at you and you grin, shaking your head.
“That’s right. Absolutely no one.” Brendon smiles like he knew that’s what you were going to say, and with one soft blown kiss, he disappears towards the stairs.
-||-
“B?” You’re sprawled over the couch with your head in his lap while he drops bites of funfetti pancake into your mouth. You chew gratefully before nudging him lightly in the stomach. “B, you know what Thomas Foster says about meals?”
“Who?”
“He’s a professor of literature at University of Michigan.”
“You didn’t study at University of Michigan, did you?” Brendon looks at you curiously. You shake your head and he laughs. “Okay, I didn’t think so. You were saying?”
“Thomas Foster. He says anytime people share a meal, it’s communion.” You blink up at him and he laughs again, running his hand through your hair. “Why are you laughing?”
“Because this is my favorite kind of communion,” Brendon says playfully. “You, naked and sprawled on top of me.” He ruffles your hair affectionately. “I wish church was always like this.”
“Hush,” you say, laughing now too. “Not communion always in a religious sense. Just - building a community.” Brendon pauses as you let this sink in. He nods after a moment, passing you another piece of pancake.
“I like that. Building a community. You and me. Our own little community here in this space, one meal at a time.” He nods again, decisively. “This Foster guy sounds pretty smart. What else does he say?”
You grin, stretching and turning to kiss Brendon’s bare stomach. “He says everything is about sex.” Brendon’s eyes light up and you smirk. “Except sex.” His face falls and you burst out laughing.
“That doesn’t make any sense!” Brendon protests, lifting you up into his arms so you’re straddling his lap. “Let me prove him wrong.” He kisses you softly and you melt, pressing against him needily. “Let me prove him wrong.”
“Prove him wrong,” you murmur, running two fingers down his chest and kissing him back longingly. “Prove him wrong.”
-||-
“You know what else he says?” You’re drowsy, wrapped in the blanket Brendon tugged from the back of the couch and snuggled into his arms. You look up at him tenderly. “Foster, I mean.”
“What?” Brendon’s sleepy too, and he has every right to be, you think to yourself. He worked hard, making you come three times on his fingers before he’d even let himself feel you on his cock.
“He says that violence and death in literature, and ultimately life, have deeper purposes. Even if that purpose is just to make some commentary on the unnecessary cruelness of the world, that’s an important message for the audience. Life isn’t fluffy and wonderful and everything isn’t going to go our way all of the time. We will get knocked down and we will hurt and we will be sad. But it’s important. Especially when the people who suffer the most keep going. Keep moving forward.”
“And,” Brendon mumbles into your neck, fingers tracing over your stomach, “do you think that’s what we’re doing?” He hesitates. “Moving forward?”
You sigh and rest your hand over his. Both of you sit in the moment, heavy with the loss of your daughter. “Yes,” you say finally. “It is. We’re not moving on. But we are moving forward.” Brendon sighs now too, closing his eyes and wrapping his free arm around your waist.
“And we’ll be okay?” You can hear the fear in his voice. “I can’t lose you, Y/n. I can’t. I’ll struggle with you every goddamn day but please - I can’t lose you. Promise me you won’t give up.” The anxiety in his eyes causes you physical pain. You knew your breakdown hurt him, and you knew it scared him - he keeps going. “I said this the night I asked you to marry me- I know it’s scary and I know it’s a lot. I know it’s a leap, but...Y/n, I knew we could make it then and I know we can make it now. Will you keep holding on with me, keep moving forward with me?”
“Yes,” you say softly. “It is scary and it is a lot and it is a leap. But there’s no one else I’d rather keep moving forward with.” He smiles and you kiss him gently. “You won’t lose me. I can’t promise much but I can promise these three things: I’m yours. You won’t lose me. I’m ready. I was ready then and I’m ready now,” you tell him. “I will always be ready to leap with you into whatever our future holds.”
The End