#but…I’ve already forgotten what the extra tags were gonna be

[inquirenorth]

[brn-t]

Thank you @fungalhazard for commissioning me! I really like how it turned out!

Back to earth

tags: original male/original male, transformation, monsterfucker, capitalism unfortunately 😔, height growth, tail growth, monster transformation, tf kink

"Jesus christ dude what the fuck did you DO to me last night?? "

"The same shit I do Everynight! Alan! The same shit you beg for when you’re backin that gay ass up onto my monster junk every night! What, you think I knew this would happen??"

"I don’t know!! How the fuck else could I have sprouted a fucking tail overnight??"

Alan clutched the offending appendage to his chest like he was afraid it would attack him. It was long and muscular like a lizards tail, pushing down the hem of his gym shorts, flexible and vaguely prehensile. There was a small scattering of red scales cropping up from underneath the bare skin. It twitched in agitation as Alan stared expectantly at his boyfriend.

T’urin, the boyfriend in question, avoided his gaze as he wracked his brain for an explanation. He was adopted by a family of sorcerers who found him abandoned on their doorstep, so he really never knew what the hell was going on with him, biologically. But, they said they think he may be some sort of earth totem?? Whatever the hell that was...

All he knew for sure was that there was… a lot going on with him, body-wise. In his “natural” form, he loosely resembled a lion/dragon except covered in a dense coat of iridescent black feathers and three sets of zygodactyl claws. Horn-like spikes spiraled up from his head in a half circle that Alan had told him resembled a crown and made him look elegant.

Alan had been the first person outside of his family to have seen his “true form” and that night had been the first night he’d actually started to like it.

Ever since then, after they got together and had moved in together, more often than not that was the form he would default to. So, when Alan asked him to fuck him open in his monster form the first time, T’urin was nervous but mostly excited.

After that night, his monster form quickly became the default for whenever they were getting into it.

Clothes hit the floor, pants came off, and several extra feet and limbs grew out of places they shouldn't.

T’urin smacked his face and rubbed his temples with his delicate clawed fingers.

That’s what they got for not using protection

“So what now?? I can’t go to work like this! They’ll think I’m a fucking furry or something!

Like a lightning bolt out of a clear blue sky, just then, Alan’s phone began to ring.

Alan picked it up and motioned like he was going to throw the phone. “FUCK fuck fuck FUcking FUCK it’s my manager, FUCK I’ve already forgotten about two shifts this month, I can’t miss another one!!” He answered the phone in his cheeriest voice, not even getting past the "Hi Nicole" before a shrill voice on the other line cut him off.

Alan looked like he was going to cry, his face scrunched up in defeat and his tail literally tucked between his legs.

T’urin stifled a giggle.

“Yes! I- …. yes. Right.. yes, I realize this is my final warning, thank you. Yes…. I will be there… Yes, Goodbye.

Hanging up the call, Alan let out a heavy defeated sigh and turned back into the bedroom, tail drooping.

“You’re actually gonna go??”

Alan came back out with his work shirt halfway on and a pair of giant black harem pants in one arm.

“You wanna eat this month?? Some of us can’t magically shapeshift their-” he shook the offending appendage at him “-freakin monsterparts away whenever they like!”

“Have you tried it though??”

Alan smacked his hands on either side of T’urin’s long muzzle and brought it close to his face.

“T’urin, light of my life, beloved eternal, I cannot express in the slightest how little control I have over this situation right now. Now please help me tie this big ass tail coming out of my ass to my leg so I can go to wOrK AND MAKE A PAYCHECK.”

The last part was yelled directly into T’urin’s delicate fluffy ears and as he reeled back he was hit smack dab in the face with some ace bandage wrap.

Chuckling, T’urin caught the bandages with one of his three sets of limbs and positioned himself behind his boyfriend who had turned around and presented his backside like a sulking child.

He hummed as he took the heavy tail in his claws, admiring the glitter of the burgeoning scalework, turning it over to play with the light.

Alan shuddered.

“Love?” T’urin asked.

“Nothing, it’s just a freakin weird feeling feelin shit on a limb you’ve never had before, like, reverse ghost limb syndrome…”

T’urin held his tail up to a beam of light coming through the curtains, turning the scales translucent.

“I think its beautiful”

“Yea well, for your sake it better be gone by the end of my shift or we’re both gonna be living out of whatever bog you spawned out of.”

A heavy drumming noise gurgled up T’urins long neck and as he finished wrapping his tail, he brought his wide gaping maw right up next to Alan’s ear.

“You promise?” said T’urin, pulling down the nape of Alan’s work shirt, something deep and primal bubbling up in T’urin upon seeing the prickly row of pinfeathers pushing up through the skin along his boyfriend's spine.

Alan spun around and grabbed his dangling tongue.

“Oh that’s a promise, If anything else goes weird, I’m gonna turn you into a boardwalk taxidermy attraction, maybe then you can actually start contributing towards rent, you deadbeat”

T’urin grinned a toothy grin.

“See you at seven.” He said, perfectly clear, despite his tongue being grabbed.

Driving of course was a freakin nightmare and it felt insane to experience pins and needles in a limb you’ve never had before.

After pulling into the parking lot of his dive bar kitchen job, Alan just sat outside his car, steaming, heart hammering in his throat, wanting nothing more than to turn back and drive home but having no choice but to walk forward.

His…scales, turns out, would rub up against his legs on the downwards motion as he walked so he grimaced unpleasantly as he scooted into the kitchen, thankful for the first time in his entire life to be a dishwasher.

The remainder of his shift went surprisingly well, despite him getting chewed out by the manager, and him jumping every time someone walked past him.

“I guess no one notices the dishwasher guy,” he thought to himself, equal parts relieved and depressed.

He actually got into his job at some point, scrubbing dishes clean and restocking cookwear until suddenly there was a tap on his shoulder.

Alan whirled around, looking at his half lidded coworker with alarm.

“Y-yes??” Alan said, angling his backside away from him.

“Yo, yer shift’sup dude, geddahell outta here.

Alan had never felt so relieved to see him, he could have hugged him.

“O-okay, thanks! Man!” Alan held up his elbow length rubber gloves, “I’ll uh, hang these up and head out then…”

The coworker didn’t respond, already looking at whatever was on his phone.

Alan took off his apron and started to pull the rubber glove off his right arm.

A painful tugging sensation ripped up his whole forearm.

“Ow..” Alan said softly.

“Huh?”

“Oh! Uh, a glass broke in the uh.. sink, be careful…”

“Whatever man, justgimme the gloves.”

Alans heart beat a little quicker, not wanting to confirm what he suspected.

“These have… holes in them, just grab the other pair in the supply closet! I’ll throw these out!”

The coworker shrugged and shuffled off. Alan quickly pulled the sleeves of his hoodie down over the gloves, shoving them in his pockets and making a hasty retreat to his car, not even bothering to sign out.

The entire ride back his heart was hammering in his chest so loud he almost forgot completely about his tail.

He tried to not stare at the thick rubber gloves wrapped white knuckle around the steering wheel but he swore he could see neat little pale spikes poking out of the fingertips and he didn’t want to think about what that meant right then.

As soon as he was through the door to his dinghy apartment though all he could think about was tearing the damn things off.

They smelled of stale dishsoap and dirty sink water and work so Alan didn’t feel the least bit sad grabbing scissors to cut them away.

And yes, to his dismay, it was not normal human fingers that greeted him as the rubber peeled away.

Not only had his naturally pale skin darkened to a ruddy reddish-brown at the tips, but long rigid backwards facing pinfeathers were just starting to poke up out of the skin of his forearm. And to make matters worse, it looked like over the course of his 10 hr shift, his nails had been completely pushed out, so now his fingertips ended bluntly with only a deep vertical slit at the tip. At the crest of each knuckle he could see rectangular patches beginning to form like the scales of a bird.

Fucking christ was all he could think as he turned his hands over and over, struggling to comprehend that the things opening and closing in front of him were actually his.

“Haelfynn above, what the hell happened to your hands?” T’urin said, standing at the doorway in human form.

Alan could only turn to him, hands spread jazzhands style and flex his fingers, causing needle-sharp claws to pop out from the aforementioned slits kittycat-style, startling them both.

There was a heavy moment of silence where they both just stared dumbly at each other before Alan’s mouth twitched up into a nervous sort of smile and brought a curled paw to his mouth, cocking his hip.

“Nya?”

That was all it took and the two crumbled into hysterical laughter, collapsing into each other until they were both wheezing for breath and wiping tears from their eyes.

Then Alan grabbed T’urin by the lapel and slammed him against a wall, lifting him bodily off his feet. (had he gotten taller?)

“You’re going to fix this, now..” Alan said, the barest hint of a growl bubbling up underneath his voice.

T’urin’s eyes widened but his face looked rueful

“On it.” Was all he said, pulling out his phone and dialing his mom.

T’urin’s mom was incredulous at first but her tune changed completely after switching to video chat, exclaiming loudly and calling in T’urin’s mother to come have a look. There were a lot of questions, and a lot of answers that made the young couple blush, but by the end of the conversation it was agreed upon that the two of them needed to make a trip up north to T’urins parents place for a more in depth examination.

His moms graciously offered to pay for a private cabin on the train and said some things over the phone to Alan’s clothes which they said would “help people overlook him.”

The moment T’urin ended the call, Alan felt drained.

He collapsed onto their bed and cupped his face in his hands, or, paws? He held them aloft again just to make sure he still had all 5 fingers.

They were all there… for now.

He covered his face again, groaning through his teeth.

“What am I going to tell my boss?? I’ve got another 7am to 7pm tomorrow and no sick days.”

T’urin was uncharacteristically quiet and looked down, toeing the ratty carpet.

“I’m sorry… about all of this…”

Alan sat up sharply, “Oh, babe, no, it’s not like, i blame you or anything. I don’t think either of us have a fuckin clue as to whats going on, it’s just, like, the WORST possible time to have a magical transformation happen ever. I mean, rent’s due next week and the insurance on the car, plus you’re almost through that frozen deer carcass and THATS another $250 unless you want to go try hunting again, but I am NOT forcing deworming meds down your throat again

“They taste like shit” T’urin hissed

“Yea, well, cry me a river, buddy, daddy’s broke at the moment and also turning into some sort of critter, so you'll have to pick less diseased animals next time.”

They both chuckled but tension still stained the air.

“Are you scared?” T’urin said finally

Alan sighed heavily and looked down at himself. Aside from his hands and the tail draped over the side of the bed, he still mostly looked like himself.

But he didn’t know for how much longer that was going to be the case.

“I just… never have been good with change. You know what growing up for me was like, I just always craved consistency, and now, after finally just barely being able to carve out a life for myself… for us, here’s life again, pulling the football away just as I’m about to kick.

"What is that, a homestuck reference?" T’urin grinned

Alan rolled onto his side and yanked T’urin onto the bed with him, pushing his many braids aside and looking deep into his dark brown eyes.

“I should have never even shown you that fuckin comic” He said,

They lay there for a minute longer before Alan caught a whiff of the restaurant still on him and got nauseous all over again.

He got up, mumbling something about a shower and shucked his work shirt off and into the hamper on his way to the bathroom.

Grabbing his favorite towel, he shut himself in their tiny bathroom and stood there.

Suddenly he was afraid as to what he might find if he took off his pants…

His tail was sore from being constrained for so long so he ripped the proverbial bandaid off and tore his pants off in one go.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he unwrapped the bandage and slowly let his sweaty tail separate from his leg.

He breathed a sigh of relief and tried to give it a little wag.

It wagged.

“Huh…” was all he said, still in shock that this was his reality right now. He’d very much hoped that this was some sort of extended prank by T’urin, but standing here in this shitty apartment bathroom watching himself curl and twist this thing attached to him made it really hit home somehow.

An odd sort of fluttering feeling blossomed in his chest and he ducked inside the shower before he could examine it any further.

Showering was the most normal he’d felt the entire day, and as the boiling hot water ran over him, his muscles relaxed and he began to droop, just letting the stream purify him like a sand blaster.

He closed his eyes and turned the other way, noting with dulled alarm how the water was hitting something on his back.

He ran a hand down the center of his spine and discovered more pinfeathers pushing out from the crest of his spine all the way down to his hips. Logically, he should be freaking out right now but as he kept feeling them and how itchy they were, all he could think about was getting them out

He concentrated and…

*snk*

His claws popped out from fingertips and latched underneath the keratinous tube of the pinfeather.

Slowly, so slowly, he pulled it off and flicked it into the corner of the shower.

Now in it’s place he could feel a soft feather, like one you’d see escaping from a stuffed pillow.

Oh fuck was all he could think before pulling another one off, and then another, until soon enough his whole back was covered in a dense layer of iridescent black feathers.

The warm water on his feathers felt like a massage, and Alan made a low crooning noise deep in his throat that echoed pleasingly off the walls of the shower.

So he did it again, and for longer this time.

Soon he was just humming and picking at feathers and letting the water flow over him and picking at scales and shampooing and -uhoh the ceiling was getting kinda low..

Alan looked up and suddenly the ceiling was so close he could lick it.

heh, lick it...

He opened his muzzle and extended his tongue to jokingly touch the ceiling, the hot humid air gathering to make his head feel full and fuzzy.

His tongue had gotten very long… Alan looked down his snout to realize there was a lot more hair in his field of view than when he got in…

hmmmmmmm.....

He brought a clawed hand up to inspect the strand of curly black hair

Somethingssss weird going onn..

But the steady staccato beat of the warm water refused to let him feel anything but calm and relaxed, even when soft velvety antlers started pushing through his scull and bumping against the ceiling

In his mind, he was beneath a waterfall, deep deep in the mountains beneath a natural hot spring, and he was safe and warm, completely bereft of responsibilities.

He actually started to stoop, from both the low ceiling and from how high up his antlers were extending, so he got on all fours and crouched, facing away from the taps.

Eyes still closed, his body felt like it was… slipping into place, like finally cracking a joint that needed it.

His arms extended out in front of him, muscled and furry, with his hands shortening into proper paws. Not from any discernible species, but boxy and wide, with the leathery sort of texture of a birds leg. His hind legs twitch and jerked into place, the central toes merging to form some sort of talons, like a bird of prey. His fat tail thickened up significantly and began to sprout feathers of their own, with the scales plating the underside.

By the time T’urin decided to check on him and yell at him about the water bill, Alan had slipped into the form of something that was decidedly... inhuman.

T’urin pulled back the curtain ready to bitch when the…creature in the shower startled and let forth a sharp hiss, baring its large and numerous rows of needlesharp teeth.

“OH FUCK” was all he got to say before the thing formerly known as Alan spooked and tried to make a run for it.

Unfortunately for him, bathtubs are not well known for their grippability and his long sharp claws just succeeded in shredding the shower curtain to bits

T’urin tried to reign in the ball of claws and feathers but Alan was not having any of it, shrinking away from his carefully placed hand and hissing gutterally.

“Shit what to I do??” T’urin wondered out loud.

Then the idea hit.

“OH!” he said, and then dropped his human form completely, making the bathroom even more cramped as he filled out the rest of the available space.

He didn’t know what to expect as far as a response but Alan took one look at him and yowled like a territorial lynx, clawing his way out of the tub and spraying water everywhere.

“SHIT NO WAIT, ALAN!”

Alan scuttled past him, sharp claws clacking across the cheap linoleum tiles as he squirmed through the open door and into the livingroom.

“OH FUCK NO, NO THE-”

- was immediately followed by a heavy crashing glass sound.

In the time it took T’urin to follow him out into the livingroom, the space was already trashed.

The couch and carpet were shredded, anything upright had been knocked over and the only thing left untouched were the several large potted houseplants, behind which a pair large jagged gold antlers stuck out rather conspicuously.

T’urin tsked and switched back to human form, slowly approaching the beast, his beast, with his hands outstretched.

“Of course you wouldn’t wreck the one thing thats only yours.

A glittering set of golden eyes snapped open, staring at him through the foliage.

T’urin made a grab for one of his horns but Alan was quicker and wriggled out of his grasp, making for the partially cracked sliding glass door.

Despite his yelling, Alan wrenched it open and launched himself off the balcony, disspearing into the hazy murk of twilight.

“ShitSHITshit” T’urin hissed, vaulting over the rail right after him, shifting into flighted form midair, scanning the horizon for his idiot boyfriend.

He didn’t have to look long to find him though, as a clumsily flapping (when did he grow wings??) moose-sized silhouette against the darkening sky wasn’t that hard to spot.

Thank goodness he didn't seem to have any flight instincts, as T’urin caught up with him rather quickly and tackled him to the ground, landing in some dense bushes outside of someone's house.

A dog inside the house started to bark but T’urin had them down a side street by the time the owner came out to investigate.

As he dragged him along, Alan started to groan and shed feathers, leaving a trail of them in his wake.

By the time they made it back home, he was (mostly) human again, save for the tail, the scaling on his arms and legs, and how his hair was longer now and a deep shade of brown, almost black with a few feathers scattered in it.

T’urin dragged him into the livingroom, dumped him onto the shredded couch, and went into the hallway closet for a broom.

When he returned, Alan was sitting upright with his head in his hands.

T’urin huffed and poked at him with the dustpan, jolting Alan out of his thoughts.

He just looked up at T’urin, eyes wide as saucers, tail twitching back and forth.

“T’urin, I flew just now, didn’t I?”

He nodded. Alan took the dustpan and got on his knees.

“Did you know? That rooftops looked like that? Like little glittering mahjong tiles? That the wind feels cold against your face that high up?”

T’urin brought in the garbage can from the kitchen..

“I did.”

Alan dumped his pan of broken glass. “Why would you ever return to earth??” he said.

T’urin brought him from his knees and drew him into a tight hug.

“You didn’t know how to fly yet.”

[twdmusicboxmystery]

Hey, I’m coming to you with some social media weirdness. So first, it’s obviously the count down to the final episodes, I think we have about 5 days left right now. And so the Instagram accounts (and I’m sure other media) for TWD are going off counting down. One thing I noticed, was that the AMCwalkingdead insta account, has been periodically posting gone but never forgotten posts for characters that have died. So far they have done Meryl, Tyreese, Amy (which was a little surprising), Lori, and T-Dog. This is interesting to me because at the rate they’re posting they still have (assuming they’re doing all the important characters) Hershel, Glenn, Bob, Sasha, Tara, Abraham, Jesus, Carl, Siddiq, Enid, Andrea, Henry, and technically Beth. That’s a lot of characters to cover before the show starts again (which I’m assuming is their time frame). Obviously I’ve been watching this extra close because I want to see if they even post Beth, and when they do it. I could easily see them posting her’s right before an episode she’s teased in, if they continue posting these after the new set of episodes air. Alright I’m almost done, Angela Kang posted a post on insta in honor of the season five because there’s five days till the new episodes start. In that post she included a photo of only Beth which is interesting because she only had four photos included and she decided to dedicate a whole one to Beth. Emily Kinney then reposted it with a return star 💫 that she normally includes in any TWD post she does. Thoughts?

Hi there! Thanks for this! Though I’m just getting around to answering it, I read it when it came in, and this made me and my fellow theorists watch Angela’s countdown posts much more closely.

But first thing’s first.

I just checked, and the AMCthewalkingdead account, as of the time of writing this, has not posted any more “gone but not forgotten” characters. I’m not sure I think they will post Beth, though.

On the one hand, if they did, it would be to remind everyone of her. But those with posts already, who you mentioned above, are dead for real. So, I’m actually wondering if they specifically WON’T post Beth. It really would not bother me either way, but it will be interesting to see what they do with it.

Now, onto AK’s posts.

She did a countdown from day 11 (for S11) until the day ep 11x17 aired. I’m not going to go through all the posts, since Beth wouldn’t have been in any of the seasons except 2-5. If you want to see the pics AK posted for the rest of them, you can go look them up on her account. These are regular feed posts, not stories.

But honestly, I was pleasantly surprised at how much of Beth she actually did post. More than you would think if her character is as small and insignificant as haters and skeptics would have us believe.

Obviously she wasn’t in S1. And, a slight surprise in other direction, AK didn’t post her for S2. But I’m thinking that she was trying not to be too obvious. These were in reverse order (S5 on 9/27, S4 on 9/28, S3 on 9/29) and she’d already posted Beth for seasons 5, 4, and 3. Let’s take a little look-see, shall we?

Angela’s S5 pics:

And then, as you said, because she tagged Emily, Emily reposted the pic in her story with the return star. The return star is what really clinches it for me. Anyone can repost when someone mentions them on IG, but that return star is lighting my eyes up!

Angela’s S4 pics (the next day). Notice how Beth is featured again.

Angela’s S3 pics (the next day). I didn’t expect to see much of her here, and yet…

Okay, I'll admit it's not huge for S3. You can see her (mostly her legs) running behind Rick in the third pic, and then the last, group cast pic. But still. AK went out of her way to include Beth a lot.

So yeah. It may not be a smoking gun, but it kinda made my week.

Come back tomorrow and I’m gonna give you probably the closest thing we’ve ever had to proof that Beth is on the cusp of returning.

Yes, I’m actually going to be that evil as to give you a tease like that and then make you wait.

Don’t worry guys. She’s really, REALLY close!

[writingsbychlo]

sun in the shadows (03)

word count; 12,706

summary; trying to make some headway on the study leads to an interesting revelation, and progress in your friendship with noah.

notes; if this part is a little sucky, I apologise. it was a last minute addition that I created because I realised I wanted to include some extras.

warnings; brief mentions of panic attacks/anxiety, but it’s very mild.

The weather was improving, the drizzle of the winter and the grey skies overhead were getting lighter, the showers of rain were getting less frequent and the winter was moving on. Spring was making itself known, bulbs of daffodils were finally taking root in the soil, and green was sprouting from the earth that had been frozen over and dead only a couple of weeks ago. The watery floors were drying up, limited ice was fading away, and graduation was sitting right on the horizon for you all.

Your fingers flexed around the strap of your bag, rooting through the contents to find a place to slip your file inside, all your notes for the class you’d be having were inside, and there was a blank page for your next session waiting to be filled out. Once it had its place, albeit getting a little bit crumbled against the other content, you removed your wallet, a few coins jingling in the bottom, and you hoped it was enough for two coffees.

There was a coffee stand not too far away, and you were hoping an extra shot of coffee before you went in might get your brain working a little faster. Only a couple of feet ahead of you was a face you recognised, a dark jumper to match dark denim jeans, a pair of boots for motorbike riding that were beginning to scuff along the edges and the toes. He was hanging over his money, a brown bag holding a pretzel and a tall cup, the tell-tale tag of a teabag hanging over the edge, and he walked away.

Joining the back of the line, you watched him go, sitting not far across the quarter with his headphones on, settling on one of the recently repainted memorial benches. He pulled the tab on eh coffee back, opening it up and a cloud of steam left the drink, curling up into the air that still held a slight chill, drifting away to disappear as he blew against the surface of the drink. In his other hand was his phone, scrolling aimlessly on it as a way to keep himself disconnected from everyone else around him and prompt nobody else to join him. His bag was out on the bench too, pushed a short distance from his body in an attempt to take up the rest of the space to deter company.

Ordering a simple set of black coffees, and finding you had just enough change for a muffin too, you waited patiently for your order, an assortment of condiments and the double-chocolate treat you’d paid for being handed to you first. There was a grinding, the slight screech of the machine as it crushed the beans to create two black coffees for you, plastic lids sealed on and two cardboard jackets fastened around them.

Balancing the load between them all, you headed over to him, using your knee to nudge the bag up the bench until it bumped his leg, and he jerked slightly, looking up to see you. Offering him a beam, his narrowed eyes lightened a little, and he sighed. Putting down his phone and moving his bag to the floor, he lifted the headphones away from his ears, and let them hang around his neck. Sitting yourself down, he slumped back into the wood, and you scooted up to sit closer to him, placing the spare coffee you’d bought for Stiles on the floor away from your feet.

“Hey, Noah!” He gave a short nod, still a little uncomfortable, and he turned to face you more. “So, what’s your schedule looking like this afternoon?”

“How did you know I was here?”

You shrugged, opening up the bag of extras and searching through for a couple of sweetener packets, and a wooden stirrer. “I didn’t. I was just gonna’ grab a coffee before class and head to my hall early, because, y’know, studying at home is distracting.” Your hand waved off the statement, finding the packets you wanted, and clutching your cup between your knees for stability. “So, anyway I was going to text you when I got there, but then I saw you, so I figured I’d come and say ‘hey’!”

“Right.”

“So, hey!” You waved a little before taking the top from your coffee, and leaving it on the bench beside yourself. “I ask once again, what’s your schedule looking like this afternoon?”

“Well, since I am the most popular guy at this college, I’m pretty busy.” He smiled a little at his own joke, particularly when you gave him a laugh, and your brow raised.

“Oh, he’s got jokes today, huh? I like it, I can roll with that.” Tipping the sugar into the cup, you added a couple of packets, before stirring it slowly. “I take it you’re free, then. I was hoping we could squeeze in some study stuff this afternoon. I have a class in a couple of minutes, but I wanted to see if you were free?”

“Well, I’m free all day. I had a six AM class.” His face screwed up at the idea, and you could feel his pain, having spent the entirety of your sophomore year with a teacher who held lectures at six AM so she could avoid her morning sickness before class, and rush home for it afterwards. Professor Anderson going off on her maternity leave was the best thing that had happened to your education that year.

“Great, I’ll sort it with Stiles, and we’ll text you the details.”

“Sounds like a thrill. I can hardly wait.” He smiles, the sarcasm just like his brothers as it came through, and you repaid him for the joke with a chuckle. While the two of you had made progress, you could tell he was still a little unsure around you. You were polar opposites and he didn’t take well to that, the atmosphere that you brought with you could be a little too much for him to handle sometimes, you couldn’t stop the guilt that was eating at you a little. “What’s wrong? You’ve got a look on your face like you want to talk about things. Just warning you, I’m not good at that heart-to-heart stuff.”

“Yeah, I’ve witnessed that.”

“Shut it.” He teased, sticking his tongue out at you childishly, and you grinned cheesily in reply to him. “You can tell me, though. Can’t promise I’ll help, but..”

“It’s nothing weighing me down. I just wanted to apologise. I clearly interrupted your free time. You got yourself a little pretzel to eat in silence, and everything.” He offers you a blank look at your slight dig, and you only winked, waving the muffin in a bag that you’d bought, and taking a sip of your coffee once the lid was sealed back on. “People usually like it when I stop by to see them, I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay, really.” His words were strained, the response bringing you no relief as he forced them out, and your frown remained. “I’m serious, okay? It’s alright.”

You were trying your best but learning the lines with Noah was different to you. Upon starting college you’d been thrown in at the deep end of socialisation and a whole world you’d never quite had access to before. Coming from a smaller town that had always limited your expectations was tough, and you’d taken it differently from the way Noah had. You’d had so many experiences, becoming legal to drink and venturing beyond your comfort zone, truly leaving home and facing the idea of having your life laid out before you, the first time truly having your heartbroken, and being too far to simply collapse into the arms of your mom or dad for support when things got messed up.

“When does your class start?” You jumped, lost in your thoughts as you slumped back into the bench, and you sat up straight again, turning to find that Noah was already looking at you, eyes scanning over you slowly. It was a good reminder, time had been slipping away from you and in the ease of his peaceful and quiet company, you could have sat there for hours.

Checking your watch, you sighed, lifting your bag strap back up onto your shoulder more securely, and packing everything you had with you inside, leaving you to hold a coffee cup in each hand. “In about ten minutes.”

“How about I walk you?” He picked up his bag, swinging it over his shoulder, and you nodded, a warmer feeling at his offer blooming where cold guilt had been. Standing up and making sure not to spill any of the scalding coffee onto your hand. Peering around the busy campus quarters that was more filled now than it had been for months, the lighter weather tempting groups to come out of their dormitories and the cafés to gather outside instead.

He fell into step beside you, toes scuffing occasionally on the slightly uneven stonework of the quad, before it fell away into smooth concrete pathways on the way to your lecture. The grass alongside each path was growing greener, dull colour fading away into something brighter. Paper crinkled beside you, the cup of tea in his hands being finished and the cardboard cup was crushed between string fingers, knuckles even paler than usual as he crumpled it up, and as you approach the closest bin, it was disposed of.

Your fingers flexed around your coffee cup, almost having forgotten that it was there as the heat from the two began to fade away a little. Taking a sip, the refreshing burst of sweetened caffeine was like a spark to your system, and you revelled in it. “How do you take your coffee?”

You lower the cup from your lips, swallowing your mouthful, and you couldn't stop the rise of your brows once you turned to look at him. “Creamer, usually. I like a caramel flavoured one. But, since I’m not big on creamer in packets or from street vendors, this one just has sweeteners.”

“Cool.” He nodded, and your lips pressed together tightly to try and contain the smile you wanted to let free, silence forming between you both for a moment, a further gathering of steps as the two of you went on, your building coming into sight again. “Did you watch the news last night?”

“Is this small talk?”

“It’s an attempt at small talk.” He winced, and you chuckled, a small smile on his features as the fear of judgement or humiliation washed away, and he gave a sigh.

“Okay, let's try this.” Your mind spun, searching for a track of something to talk about, and a thought clicked into space. “If you could watch one genre of movies for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“Comedy. Like, comedy-action. You know, ones like ‘Jumanji’ or something?” He was quick with it, certain about his answer, and you nodded.

“Yeah? That was quick. How come you’re so sure?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, one hand coming up to hold his bag strap, swinging it to the side to be able to get inside, and fish out the paper bag with a pretzel inside. “I guess I just think they’re good for you. Good for the soul. They have action and it keeps you a little on the edge of your seat, but it’s funny. It's easy-going, when you’ve got anxiety, or you’re having a bad day, or you just want background noise, they’re perfect.”

“Alright. Fair enough. Okay, tricky one.” his eyes narrowed a little, but an amused look passed over his features while he waited. “If you had to choose specifically between comedy and action, which is it?”

“It’s got to be action. Because comedy usually means Adam Sandler or Seth Rogen, and some of their comedies are good, but some are jus-” He paused, jaw dropping a little, and his hand came out, pausing in front of your to bring you to a halt too. A smile curled on your lips, and he looked shocked. “Holy shit, you’re good!”

“Ask a basic question that people are passionate about, it always leads to more options, and everyone always wants to talk about something fun.” His head shook slowly, as though he was in disbelief, and you took a dramatic bow, trying not to spill the coffees in your hands as you giggled. “Give it a go, I bet you can do it.”

The paper in his hands crinkled, your footsteps taking up again, and the two of you were making your way towards the building once again. Taking a bite from his pretzel, a piece torn away with his teeth, he thought it over. “Does your family have any secret or ‘famous’ recipes?”

“Oh, that’s a good one. Kudos to you, Noah.”

“Thank you. I thought about it for, like, eight whole seconds.” He grinned, the joke moving away from you both as you left it behind, and you thought about his question.

“Maybe it’s not my family recipe, just a personal one, but I’m great at making lasagne.” He scoffed, and you nudged him with your elbow. “I’m serious! I make a great lasagne!”

“You don’t seem like a cook to me, is all! You seem like the sort of person who’d manage to burn a pit of water.”

“You can’t burn water, an.. oh, I just got it. You jerk.” It was a joke, your nose screwing up as you stuck your tongue out at him, thanking him a second later as he held the door open for him. The bright lights of the outside changed to artificial lights in the halls, not as much coming through the windows as trees outside managed to cast shade into the building. “Well, I can cook. I love to cook, and I’m good at it. Especially lasagne. My family are generally the only ones who have ever had it, and thanks to that insult, you’ll never have it.”

“Oh, woah, no! You have to let me try it now. Prove me wrong, or I’ll be forced to believe you’re bluffing.”

“You’re sneaky.” You scoffed, students filling the hall and filtering in from different sides of the building, lectures in different halls all waiting to take place, and you stepped to the side of the corridor once your doorway was within reach. “If you’re lucky.”

“I’m betting on that.”

Glancing back, Stiles was already inside, as expected. Stiles Stilinski had never once been on time, he was either twenty minutes early or twenty minutes late, and since he’d spent the night with Derek, who was an early bird, you’d figured which one today would be. His head was slumped on his hm half-asleep and on the verge of drooling as he sat there, and you chuckled, turning to Noah. “Thanks for walking me. Also, thanks for small-talking with me.”

“Thanks for the advice on small talk.”

“I’m gonna’ head inside, but, I’ll see you later, okay?” He nodded, confirming the times with you, and lingering a moment longer. It was quiet, but not so tense, and he rolled on the balls of his fete, the half-eaten pretzel in his hands was seemingly abandoned as one hand tucked into his jeans pockets, the other hanging limply while holding the delicacy by his side.

“Thanks for sitting with me. This wasn’t so bad. It was almost fun.”

“You know, one day, you’re gonna’ tell me you had fun with me. I look forward to that day.” He smirked, your head tipping to the side at the expression.

“If you’re lucky.” He was repeating your own words back to you, and you beamed at the chance. Backing away from him slightly, you fixed him with the cheekiest glance you could as you walked through the doorway.

“I’m betting on it.”

You could hear his laugh once you were gone, into the classroom and beginning to take the steps up to a seat beside Stiles that he’d reserved for you, his bag sitting on it. He’d already gotten his equipment out, notepads and pencil laid out in a somewhat organised mess on top of the desk.

Placing the two coffees down, you moved Stiles bag to the floor, tucking it behind his chair and a soft snore made itself known from him, the boy not doing well with early mornings but he never had, not once in your years of knowing him had he handled it very well, so it was no surprise.

“Opening up your bag, you dropped your notebook down onto the surface with a loud ‘slapping’ sound, and he jerked upwards, flailing as he did, and almost knocking the coffees over. Blinking quickly and shaking sleep away, he looked around, eyes wide as he finally focused on you.

“Jesus Christ, don’t do that.” He chastised you, leaning back in his seat and holding a hand over his heart. “I was dreaming about high school, I thought you were my lacrosse Coach waking me up for falling asleep in class again.”

“Maybe I am.” You winked, slamming a hand down on the counter. “Drop and give me twenty, Stilinski! Right now!”

“Don’t do that, it’s eerily accurate.” He cringed, shuddering a little, before a wide smile replaced the horrified expression that had morphed, and you pushed a coffee over to him. “You brought me a coffee?”

“Yes, I did. It’s bribery.”

“Oh? What am I being bribed for?” He was curious, rooting through the bag of condiments for it and taking the plastic lid from the cup, steam curling out into the air. Taking an ungodly and certainly unhealthy amount of sweetener and sugar packets to load into his coffee.

“Your free time this afternoon. I’m thinking about getting some of my study done, I can get all the work for the next couple of sessions sorted now, but how do you feel about being asked some later?” He tipped them in, a drop of coffee flying up over the edge and landing on the desk as he stirred his drink with vigour, that same hyper excitement that he always had.

“Can’t I just fill them out now?”

“It’d be better if I could get your responses with Noah.” He sighed, rolling his eyes and making a scene of it, but there was a smile that told you he already agreed.

“You should have brought me two coffees, but fine.”

You let out a victorious ‘aha!’, and shook the little brown paper bag that was still sitting on your half of the desk at him. “I also brought you half of a muffin!”

“Only half of a muffin?”

“Well, it was none, but since I didn’t eat it yet and I’d feel bad eating it in front of you, I decided to share it.” You tore it in half, pushing half across the scratched and vandalised wooden surface to him. Crumbs were left along the surface, and Stiles pressed the pad of his finger along them to gather them all up.

“Oh, right. Well, in that case, what I meant was; wow, a full half of a muffin!” He cheered, much more enthusiasm, and you nodded.

“Much better.” At the front of the classroom, your tutor entered, door slamming behind him as he kicked the wedge out from underneath, and his case was placed down on the desk. The room began a hushed quiet, save for the loud slurping of Stiles with his coffee beside you.

“You know,” Your best friend didn’t understand the concept of a whisper, everything he did was more like a dramatic stage whisper on a Broadway show, and a few dirty looks were sent his way. The professor was used to this, a year of experience and advice from previous tutors guiding him to ignore Stiles’ fidgeting and chatter. “You’re going to have to convince Noah to do this.”

Slumping down in your seat a little more, you turned your head to him, nibbling on your half of the muffin. “I already did.”

“What?” This time he was hushed, the man standing at the front near his desk, trying his best to give extra advice to everyone and answer any common questions that he’d been emailed. You’d have to catch the after-class notes in your emails. “When d’you do that?”

“This morning before class. I saw him while getting coffee for you and we walked over.”

Stiles huffed, his brows being pulled together slightly. “Okay. Damn, he was my last free shot at getting the afternoon off.” You grinned, pinching at your friend’s cheek, and he smacked your hand away. “Quit it, I’ve told you not to do that before.”

“In case I pinch your moles off?”

“That's where my power is. My funny is in my moles.” He hissed, only making you laugh more, and you covered your mouth with your hand over his silly superstitions.

“Whatever, freak.”

“Hoe.” He snarked back, and you grinned, punching at his shoulder as best you could from this angle, and he reached up a hand to rub at it. “So, if we’re doing this, I at least want to do it at my place. I’m going out this evening, I gotta’ be ready. Derek’s sisters are coming up to visit.”

“It won’t take long, don’t worry.” He hummed, pulling out his phone and keeping it ducked from view. He was texting his brother, letting him know to be ready, and at what time your class would be ending, giving him a little time to prepare. Opening your book up and flicking to the page you had marked, it was a journal written about the study of the ways that twins raised in different households could grow up similarly, and you were hoping to adopt some of the content for your study.

“So, what’ve you got done so far?”

Stile sighed, flicking open his notebook, and you were shocked by the fact that he was already at the end of it. There were pieces of paper stuck in, a list of book references on one of the tabs down the side of a page, and only a few blank pages left at the back.

“Oh, wow, okay.” You stared at your notebook, barely reaching a quarter of the way through with the notes you’d been making, and it looked like Stiles was ready to start making progress towards a conclusion for his hypothesis. “So, you’ve got a whole lot done, then.”

“Yeah, well, I want to spend as little time in a prison as I possibly can.” He rubbed a hand over his forehead, the pages crammed full of information as he flicked through to find a blank one. “Plus, I didn’t want to go and interview inmates on my own, so I wait until Derek has free time to go with me, and I get as much done in those sessions as I can.”

“You’re gonna’ be done weeks before I am.” You pouted, your pen twirling at the top corner of a page, drawing a collation of pretty flowers to form a border, and he chuckled.

“I have easier test subjects than you do. They’re already guilty and behind bars, they’re more than happy to open up. You’ve gotta’ deal with Noah.”

“That’s true.” You grinned, thinking back on the conversation you’d had with the other twin that morning. When he was alone, it wasn’t so bad, he talked more and he wasn’t so worried about judgements, but as soon as there was someone else who might hear, he completely closed down.

“Hey, seriously, we have ages left. You’re gonna’ be just fine.”

“I’m just freaking out a little bit, because this is the last hurdle, y’know?” He nodded, and you could see whatever it was he was thinking practically swirling in his eyes, because Stiles’ emotions were open to read like a book.

“It’s terrifying. It’s, like, what the hell are we supposed to do when we finish?”

“I don’t know.” Your head dropped to your hands, fingers soothingly rubbing at your temples. A large hand landed on your back, rubbing in comforting circles. “What I do know, though, is that if I don’t get on with coming up with some more content, I’m never gonna’ finish this study in time.”

“Well, put your headphones on and come up with some questions.”

You did as told, plugging your earbuds in and choosing some classical music that would make it easier to concentrate. Opening one of your survey works back up to the page you’d left off at, your eyes began to flicker over the pages, picking out the useful information. Once you had a list built, you had a foundation to work from, questions to create and organise into groups, different sessions being able to come together.

Beside you, Stiles’ hand never seemed to stop rising, a constant dialogue with your tutor as he checked his work and ironed out any kinks in his study. He was also full of chatter and laughter, getting along with everyone around him and asking about their works, making you turn your music up several times just to be able to concentrate. But, by the end of the session, when Stiles was tugging your earbud out and telling you your class was over, you had a solid three pages worth of questions that had been split up into sessions, and ready to be worked through.

“Pack up and get ready to go. I have plans to get ready for.”

Stiles already had his bag in his arms, notebook tucked inside and pens and pencils put away, two empty coffee cups and a muffin wrapper sitting out, which he quickly gathered up, once his bag was on his shoulder. He was gone, walking past you and down to the waste bin at the front of the hall to dispose of them, his fingers tapping idly on his thigh once he was done.

You gathered your belongings, packing them away and curling the wire of your headphones back up neatly, making sure everything had its correct place in your bag, before following him down and out of the steps.

The halls were filled once again, the two of you navigating through crowds to the outside of the building, and you followed him in his diversion across the pathway, all the way to his car. Some students had already left, spaces beginning to empty out as a bottleneck effect took place at the only entrance and exit to this carpark.

“Where’s your car?” The dirty blue jeep was one of the only ones left in the parking lot, Stiles looking around for your vehicle, and you sighed.

“Don’t get me started on that hunk of junk.” You growled, stomping a foot on the floor as Stiles laughed. Opening the driver’s side door, he hopped up inside of it, legs dangling from the chair. “I’m trying not to use it as much. It splutters when it starts up and I have to try it a whole bunch of times, so the less I use it, the closer to graduation we can get before it eventually taps out.”

“You ever think about just getting it fixed?”

“Oh, big words from the man whose engine is held together with duct tape.” Your hand rubbed over the hood of the car, a slightly dusty layer that made you cringe, and you wiped your hand off on your jacket to stop it.

“Touché.” Stiles only smirked. “C’mon, I’ll give you a ride to my place. I’ll be waiting for hours if you walk.”

He slammed his car door once his legs were inside, leaning over the centre console to pop open the passenger side door as you rounded the car, and he was sparking up the car before you were even fully inside. Slamming it shut, he was reversing from his spot as you clipped in your safety belt, swinging his car around, and you gripped onto the edge of the door. “Easy there, fast and furious.”

“Oh, relax. Nobody is around.”

“Except for me, and I’d like to live until graduation.” His eyes rolled, hitting the brakes and flicking on the indicators as he was leaving the parking lot, moving out onto the main roads. There weren’t so many other cars, the mid-afternoon meaning the other students were mostly in class, in bed, or eating their lunch. College was a weird time, and while you’d loved it, you couldn't wait to regain some kind of normality. “Can we swing by my place? I need to swap out my books. I don’t want to carry all these around.”

“Okay, but be quick! I have to be ready by six and out the door by six-thirty. Derek will kill me if I’m late for this.” His fingers were tapping on the steering wheel as he changed direction to head to your place instead of his own. The space between you both was filled with the radio, the simple tunes of classic 70s anthems, the songs Stiles had grown up with, his dad’s favourite records and he played them constantly. He knew all the words, mouthing along and banging his head, pausing occasionally to check the mirrors and the roads between dancing in his seat.

Rolling the window down as he slowed in his approach to the building, afresh air swept into the carbon of the car, the slightly musty smell of the older car was something you’d miss when it was gone. The shade of the concrete cover overhead was chillier than the sunny roads, and he swung himself haphazardly into a parking space.

“I’ll turn the car around and wait here, cool?”

“I won’t take long, promise!” Hopping from the car and closing the door, you leant on the open door frame, and Stiles slouched in his seat, as he usually did. “Lydia and Ally should both be out, so there’s nobody for me to even talk to.”

“Good, because you’re chatty.” He teased, and you flipped him off, a quick walk as you headed away from him to the stairs. Once you were there, you were taking a quick jog up the sets of stairs, headed for your floor, and balancing your books in your arms carefully. Rooting through your bag to find your keys, they were at the bottom, jingling tantalisingly for you to find.

Leaving your books on the countertop of the kitchen, you shifted through them, taking the notebook you needed and leaving the rest, piling them back up and taking them to your bedroom Abandoned on the desk, you rushed to change, throwing on a bigger and warmer jumper to get through the rest of the day, phone in your pocket and a bag on your arm. Passing back through the kitchen, you were ready to grab the notebook and bag you’d left there, keys hanging in the back of the door, and you eyed the freezer.

You’d made a bet, a point to prove, and you were certain that buried somewhere deep in the bottom, you had a frozen lasagne from the last time you’d made it for Allison and Lydia. You had a few spare moments, and so you moved over to the freezer, opening the door and crouching to scan over all the shelves.

Running your fingers over frozen plastic, you searched for the right one. Tinfoil crinkling in the back, behind a bag of dinosaur chicken nuggets and a tray of alcoholic ice cubes, was a tray of lasagne. Pulling it out, the cold chilled your arm, even through the layers of your hoodie, and you used your foot to close the freezer while wrapping the tray in the nearest tea towel for an extra layer.

Placing your notebook over it and holding it in both arms for security, you clicked the latch onto the door, keys in your pocket and bag on your shoulder to let it swing closed behind you.

Stiles saw you coming, his head snapping over to the metal door between the stairwell and the parking lot when it fell open, backing through it and his brows raised. Opening up the passenger side door, he took the lasagne from you when you handed it over, climbing back into the vehicle.

“This is cold. What is it?”

“Lasagne.” You settled it onto your lap once your safety belt was on, folding the towel underneath to keep your lap from getting chilled and painful, and he nodded. The engine was still running, and taking off the brakes, he was pulling out of the space again.

“So, not that I don’t love a home-cooked meal, but I’m going out for dinner. Why the traybake?”

“I have a point to prove to Noah.” You were looking out of the window, but you could feel his gaze on you, making you a little uncomfortable, and you turned to face him. His eyes were flicking between you and the road, brows furrowed, a stare like he was trying to figure you out, before he let it go. “He told me I looked like I couldn't cook, and it’s a battle I’m going to win.”

“Well, alright then. Save me leftovers?”

“We’ll see.” You winked, and he grinned, eyes flicking to the tray in your lap, before back to the road.

It was only a short journey, the distance between your place and Stiles’ building was short for a walk and even shorter in a car, on the edges of campus and conveniently placed, and it had been one of the building blocks of your friendship with him An easily accessible study partner, somewhere to hang out with, someone to walk home with you after a night out, someone to share a cab with, or simply knowing there was a friend so close to you.

“It’s going to be weird not living around the corner from you in just a few months.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He sighed, pulling into his one building sparking area and it didn’t have the luxury of being covered or underground, it was exposed each flat having allocated parking spaces, and Noah’s bike was parked underneath the shelter, you could see it from here, with a clamp around the wheel and covered from the impending and risky weather of the early months. “I have a feeling that you’ll end up living next door to me someday.”

“You do?”

He parked the car, arm behind your head as he reversed into it, ready to make a quick getaway on the next morning, or this evening, when he would invariably be late. In true Stiles Stilinski style. “Yeah. Especially after I rock whatever gown you want me to wear for being your maid of honour, someday.”

“Lydia is going to fight you for that role.”

“I will fistfight her for it.” He challenged, and you grinned, clambering down from the car as Stiles had parked a little too close to someone else on your side. With your bag on your shoulder and lasagne in one hand, you tried to squeeze around the door without scratching someone else’s paintwork.

Stiles’ arm was slung over your shoulder as you set off toward the building, the elevator being fully functional, and it was a refreshing change not need to take the stairs up to your place, or risk your life in a rickety elevator.

Throwing his keys down on the kitchen counter, they slid all the way across and to the other side, hitting the floor, and he grimaced when you turned to stare at him. “I’ll pick those up later.”

“Uh-huh.” The sounds of video games and music were coming from behind Noah’s door, though it wasn’t fully closed, only pushed halfway, and you hoped that was a sign that he was still in a good mood. Leaving your bag on the edge of the couch that was facing away from you, your hands rubbed together, glancing around at the environment you were still getting used to. “You should put this lasagne in now, so that it’s ready for after the study. Medium heat, leave the full-on tight.”

“Where are you going?”

“To say ‘hey’ to your brother.” Stiles’ face scrunched up, a mumble of ‘good luck’ as he picked up the tray, lifting it over his head to look in at it from underneath. Wandering toward the sounds coming from the hall, you knocked on the edge of the door, pushing it open a second later when you heard the game pause, and the music following it. Leaning on the doorframe, Noah turned to face you, brows raising slightly, and he shifted in his chair. “Hey.”

“Hi. It’s, uh, time for the study stuff, then?”

“Yeah. You okay?” He shrugged, turning back to his game and closing it off, leaning forwards from where he was sat on his bed enough to turn the console off.

“I didn’t realise we’d be doing it here. It feels more personal, somehow.” He had a large hoodie on, comfortable in his own clothes as he wore a baggy and warm outfit, the same way you often had when everything started to feel overwhelming.

“Well, this study is going to get pretty personal.”

“I know that. It’s just that right now, it feels a bit like I’m naked, y’know?” You chuckled, a momentary smile on his face flashing past, and you were glad to see it. “I just feel exposed.”

“This study is gonna’ do that, but I promise that I’ll try and make it as easy as I can. I’ll break it up, I’ll make it comfortable for you, and we’ll stop whenever you’re getting overwhelmed.”

“That’d be great, actually.” His hands rubbed together, sleeves hanging slightly down over his palms, and he looked a whole lot less terrifying right now than he did with the armour of a bike and a leather jacket. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Good, because I need you in high spirits. I brought a lasagne and I have a point to prove.”

You backed out of the room as he advanced toward you, the door closing and leaving you both standing in the hall, and he smirked down at you a little, a disbelieving expression. “You really brought that?”

“You bet I did. It’ll be ready by the time we finish.”

“Then I guess we’d better get started, huh?” He hopped over the back of the couch, settling in beside his brother, who scowled at him as his drink spilt down his shirt from the impact. Taking a seat on the other side of them both, your legs folded underneath yourself in the armchair, finding a glass of water laid out for yourself on the table, courtesy of Stiles.

They looked so different and yet so similar in this moment. You could understand how people may have confused the two of them before their styles became so radically different. In the beginning, before Noah turned to leather and a sleeve tattoo, when they both wore hoodies and band tees and had clean pale skin. With the sleeve of tattoos covered, and the pair both wearing hoodies, one with an etching across the front and the other with a faded logo from being washed one too many times,

Laying out your books, it was more of a note you’d keep to yourself, and following from that was your recorder, coated in the front pocket of your bag so as not to get crushed. Switching it on at the side, the red light flashed on to green blinking once to let you know it was active. “Can you guys do your confirmations for me while I get set up?”

“Surely can.” Stiles sat forwards, leaning down a little with his forearms braced across his knees, as opposed to Noah, who slumped back into the cushion. “Stiles Stilinski, happy to be recorded.”

“Noah Stilinski, aware of being recorded.” Stiles rolled his eyes at his brother’s dead tone, clearly not having as much fun as Stiles was, but you didn’t blame him.

“Okay, so, why don’t you guys tell me what it’s like to live together at college.” There was a beat of silence, and then a set of matching laughs from both of them, the two starting at one another. There was a look between them, one you didn’t quite understand, and it seemed like some kind of twin-telepathy communication.

“It’s, like, exactly the same as when we were in high school.”

“Uh, what?” Stiles interjected, and Noah turned to look at him. “It’s nothing like high school!”

“Yes, it is!” Noah insisted, and you smirked, picking up your water and taking a sip as the two stared in shock at one another. “We lived together in high school, we played video games, I did all the cooking and you did all the cleaning while dad was at work. The only thing that is different is that we can’t cheat from one another’s homework anymore.”

“We don’t drive to school together anymore, we’re on opposite sides of campus!”

“That so doesn’t count.” Noah scoffed, and Stiles twisted on the couch, his hand gestures much more emphasised than that of his brother’s and you watched the debate go down. “You can’t name any more than that.”

“I take that as a challenge.” Stiles’ head rolled side to side. “Our schedules don’t match up anymore, and we haven’t had our usual movie nights in almost six months now. I can’t bring Derek over because your room is right across from mine-”

“My room was across the hall from you at home. You just didn’t date in high school or have anyone to bring home.”

“Low-blow. Unlike some people, I didn’t want to traumatise my brother in high school by bringing someone home, for that.” Stiles reached out mid-sentence, swatting at his brother’s shoulder, before continuing; “Uh, let's see. Oh! We don’t talk anymore, you didn’t ride your motorbike so much at home, you used to ride in the jeep with me. It’s like a totally different world now.”

“I didn’t know you felt like that.” There was a palpable kind of feeling in the air, something between them that was sizzling with electricity, before Stiles sighed.

“It’s no big deal. The difference is just that we’re both so busy now.”

“That was really good, actually. Thanks.” The two seemed to have forgotten you were there, both flinching and turning to face you again, matching sets of honey-coloured eyes in varying shades were fixing on you again. “Speaking of what you said, though, does it ever make it hard for you guys when your class times are so different?”

“Hard to do what?” Stiles squinted at you, face set in a frown that his twin normally wore.

“Hard to hang out, talk, have that whole brotherly bond going on.” Your clarification did little for Stiles, his brows still pulled tight and frown never moving, but Noah’s face smoothed out.

“Oh.. well, I g-”

“Totally.” Noah pressed, and once again, Stiles’ head whipped around to look at his brother. “Don’t look at me like that. You basically said it, anyway. We don’t talk so much anymore. We barely know each other. You don’t even tell me about your podcast, anymore.”

“You never listened!”

“You used to tell me your problems, not broadcast them to the world with jokes and humour! I missed two episodes, and you just stopped keeping me updated on it.” The moodier twin crossed his arms over his chest, and you swallowed thickly at the environment you had unwittingly created. “I don’t know. Just feels like we used to talk a lot more.”

They both went silent, and Noah shot you a pleading look, but there was something darker behind it. It almost felt venomous, angry or defensive, as though to say ‘I told you so’ about it being more personal now that they were home. Stiles was occupying himself with pulling a loose thread on their couch cushion out and making it that much worse, distracting himself from it all. “Well, how about something a little bit lighter. Just some questions about hobbies. Stiles, what inspired you to first start a podcast?”

“Well, as you know, I never stop talking.” He smirked, Noah laughing beside him, and just like that, the awkward air between them both was completely evaporated. “I had a lot to say, I had a lot to get off of my mind. At first, it was just to get my thoughts out there. It was kind of like a recorded journey for myself, and to share with my friends from back home. But, then other people started listening. I thought it was going to be the end of my college social life, a social life that I was developing for the first time ever, and they liked it. I was just talking into a mic and getting things off of my chest, making no sense while telling stories and bitching about my homework and suddenly I had friends. It got a whole lot of followers and I made new friends,”

He paused, offering you a wink for the comment, and you beamed.

“-and I was going to parties, I met my boyfriend at a pep rally, and everything just kinda.. blossomed. The more I got out of it, the more inspired I was to keep going. I ended up making multiple videos a week, all differently themed. Sometimes movie reviews, sometimes songs, sometimes just talking. That’s how ‘Mischief Mic’ was born.”

“Alright. That was awesome.” Stiles bowed as best he could from sitting on the couch, and reached over to take a sip of his drink. “Okay, Noah, have you got any hobbies that you didn’t have in high school that you found when you came to college.”

“Not really.”

“Not even one?” You pushed, and the arms folded over his chest tightened, his gaze going to the floor, socked toes pushing into the twist cable rug. He took his glass, swigging all of it, the water draining from the glass in nervousness, and you could hear the crickets inside your mind chirping to fill the silence that had formed.

“No. Not really. I’m going to get more water, feel free to continue.”

“Uh, okay.” You pressed your pen down into your paper, drawing a line through the question on your paper as you realised you’d have no answer to that question when you listened back on the tape at a later time. “Stiles, back to you, then.”

Your next question came, and went, and Stiles was more than happy to answer them. Occasionally, Noah would answer a question, you’d be able to pin him down long enough to get a straight answer out of him, but there seemed to always be something that he needed to mess with, or fix. Almost half of your questions for him had a line drawn through, and you would have to ask them another time, and get a whole extra session in without Stiles, dragging the study out.

It was going to take you twice as long to get through it all if every time you had to ask them separately, and had to spend your time trying to force him to sit and answer. You were missing half of the information that you needed to be able to compare to Stiles’ answers, you couldn’t answer without them.

The clock ticked by, leaving you with all of your questions for Stiles answered. On a blank page, while Noah had once again been tinkering with something in the kitchen, you’d rewritten up all over the crossed out questions that would still need answers. You had doodled on the corner again, waiting for him to come and sit back down, a collection of hearts and flowers, the occasional bee or ladybug, even a couple of misshaped stars, forming a banner across the top of the page.

When he finally came to sit back down, he huffed, eyes moving to the clock as though he was waiting for this to end just as much as Stiles was, and you gave up.

“Okay, how about we just finish this up?” You had reached the end of your tether, not even bothering with the rest of the questions that were written down for him. “We got almost two hours in, that’s perfect.”

Noah sighed, something like an apology in his look as your eyes met his and he shrugged lightly. Stiles only nodded, eyes flicking up to the clock on the wall, and he was grinning when he came back. Tearing a page out of your notebook for each of them, you passed it over, blank paper sitting before them, and you searched for a pen or pencil in the bottom of your bag for each of them. Placing your pen down before Stiles and a pencil in front of Noah, they both leaned forwards, picking them up. Switching off your recorder and packing it away, you were left with the two staring at you expectantly.

“Okay, Stiles, come fill yours out in the kitchen. You can’t discuss these ones.”

“Oh, some mystery. I like that.” He picked up his paper and pencil, heading over to the kitchen counter, folding the sheet in half as he did, and you nodded. Standing from your place behind the coffee table, your bag slumped a little more from where it had been propped against your leg.

“Okay, I want you both to try self-diagnosing yourself.” Stiles gasped, a little excitement lacing it, and his pencil was already moving over the paper. Noah, however, looked a little lost, looking to you for guidance. “Don’t worry, you don’t need to use professional terms, just, describe what you think, I’ll be able to figure it out, and if I can’t, I’ll ask you about it at some point.”

He nodded, pausing, not quite as eager to get into the activity as Stiles was, before the pencil finally met the paper, and the slow scratching of graphite over paper filled the silence.

Moving away to the kitchen, you searched for plates, and a dish, laying them out on the counter before moving to the oven. A wave of hot air into your face once you pulled the door open, and when it cleared, you search for the kitchen towel you’d brought with you. Wrapping it carefully around the edges of the tray inside, you pulled it out, resting it atop the oven and closing the door back up.

Flicking off the handles, the light inside went dead, and Stiles loomed up behind you. “Smells good!” He presented a piece of paper to you, your eyes flicking over what he’d written once you’d taken it from him, and everything that he’d written about himself seemed completely accurate. It wasn’t a surprising self-evaluation, Stiles had spent almost four years studying this, just like you had, and so it was bound to be accurate and professional. Even if his handwriting looked a little bit like chicken-scratch.

Noah was still working on his, and Stiles was picking at the edges of the tinfoil, trying not to touch the glass of the casserole dish and burn himself, and as soon as he had some foil pinched between his fingers, he was pulling it back. “Wait, Stiles, watch out for the-”

“Fucking steam! Oh, my God, that’s so fucking hot!”

His hand snapped back, half unpeeled as all the steam from inside clouded in the air, and his hand was clutched to his chest. He was glaring at the pot, before moving away and running his hands underneath the cold tap at the sink, his thumb rubbing over wet skin to soothe it.

A second later, Noah was appearing, placing his paper face down on top of Stiles, which now lay on the kitchen counter. “Well, now that I’ve been scalded by pasta, I’m going to go shower and get ready.”

“M’kay.” He backed away, and Noah leaned on the counter beside you.

“Looks good, but does it taste any good, is the question.” The twin you were left with was teasing you, your eyes finding him, and you raised a brow.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get me something to serve it up with, alright?”

He smirked, pulling open the drawer behind him and searching for a serving spoon. Slicing it into pieces, you dished it up for him, a large slab on a plate, still steaming with cheese that had only just stopped bubbling. He grabbed a fork, and one for you too, waiting patiently as you served yourself, and put whatever was left into a dish for Stiles, covering it back up and leaving it to cool.

“Okay, prepare for the best lasagne of your life.”

Picking up the papers and your plate, the two of you moved back to the couch, sitting opposite one another, and you waited with excitement. Taking a piece off of his plate with the edge of his fork, he raised it, blowing cold air over it for a few moments, before taking the bite. There was a tense few moments, while he chewed, face unreadable, before he was swallowing the mouthful.

“Well?”

You couldn’t take the anticipation any longer, a smile on his face at the desperation you showed for his answer, and he gave in. “Alright, alright. This may actually be the best lasagne I have ever had.”

“Yes!” Your hands went up in the air, cheering excitedly and he laughed at your reaction, holding his hand up when you forced him to, palms slamming together in a high-five. He was tucking in again, and you reached for your plate, excited for the meal you had made, Taking a large piece on the tip of your fork, you tucked in.

The sound of Stiles’ shower was running in the background, and he was singing loudly, a song that you were certain was a TV show intro but you’d never seen the show, and there was a chance it was something from Disney Channel. Picking up the pieces of paper again, you turned Noah’s around to face you.

You’d had an expectation, you knew what you thought he was going to write down, and yet you were somehow surprised and entirely not surprised at the same time. It was what you expected but with a twist. He had confidence in what he’d written about himself he was sure of it, and while there were definitely elements that you’d disagree with, there was a lot of truth to it, and you frowned, reading it again.

Noah was watching you do so, the scrape of forks over plates as the lull in chatter came back, and you place the two pieces of paper into the front of your notebook, making sure that it was all sealed tightly away. “Is it alright?”

“It’s just not what I expected from you. But, it’s perfect.”

“That feels like a backhanded compliment.” He smiled softly, but he looked nervous, and you shook your head.

“Not at all, it just means that you have a better grasp on this whole thing than I thought you did.” It was the truth, and while you didn’t want to reveal so much to him about it all without compromising your work, but it made sense. “It just feels like with the way today went, like you weren’t really so interested in it, so I didn’t expect such an accurate self-diagnosis from you.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He sighed, pushing what was left of his food around the plate, and you copied him, appetite dwindling. “It’s just that when you’re here, in my apartment, and you’re asking questions about what changed and making me confront everything, it feels like real therapy. You said it was going to be casual, and this didn’t feel casual.”

“I get it. I really do, and it’s okay. I can just email you the questions you didn’t answer, and you can get around to them whenever you feel up to it, alright?” He nodded, shaking off the evening’s stress. He continued to eat, polishing off the meal that was laid out before him and settling his hands over his stomach once he was finished. There was a satisfied smile on his face, and your empty plate was soon stacking on top of his own. Leaning forwards a little, you caught Noah’s eye, and one of his brows arched up. “I can try to make it more informal, in the future.”

“That would be great, actually.”

You smiled, the consolidation made between the two of you, and your ears picked up on another sound. “Hold on, is Stiles blow-drying his hair?”

“Oh, yeah.” He laughed, head turning to the closed bathroom door where his brother resided. “He thinks it makes his hair fluffy.”

“He gels his hair, though! Why does it matter if it’s fluffy?”

“He’s insane. Don’t you know this, yet?” Noah scoffed, and your giggles carried you back into the rest of the chair as you settled back into it. The evening was still waiting to come in fully. Comfortable quiet fell between you both again, and Noah moved away to take the plates to the kitchen. He left them in the sink, water running to wash them up, before storing Stiles’ lasagne in the fridge.

The aforementioned boy moved from the bathroom to his bedroom, skidding on the floors a little and clutching the towel to his waist as he hurried, making himself late with the extra-long shower and the blowdrying of his hair. Noah was washing up the plates, leaving them to dry on the draining rack, and you took that as your cue. The night was over, that much was clear, and you’d be willing to bet that he was more than eager to get back to his alone time.

Taking your bag and double-checking that you had everything, you swung it up onto your shoulder, and made your way toward the door. Hearing the shuffling of your feet, Noah turned, drying his hands on the towel beside him. “Are you going?”

“Feels like I should. Stiles will be going soon, anyway. I’m sure you have things to do, too.”

“I don’t have anything to do, if I’m being honest.” He cringed at his own words, pulling down the rolled-up sleeves of his hoodie and making his way over to you. Undoing the catch on the door, he pulled it open, leaning against it and you linseed in the doorway.

“Since you’re not doing anything, do you wanna’ get a coffee with me?”

His eyes narrowed, just for a second, and his fingers tapped anxiously on the wood of the door. “As a study subject, or..?”

“As friends.” You confirmed, his lips a thin line for only a second, before pulling up at the sides in a smile.

“Then, yeah. I’d like that.” He looked down, sweatpants and mismatching socks on his lower half, and there was a tint on his cheeks when he looked up. “Just give me two seconds to go change, alright?”

He darted away before you had a chance to reply leaving you there with the words frozen in your throat. Stiles was clattering around behind his own door, and Noah’s door slammed shut, leaving you alone in the doorway. Your hands tapped against your thighs as you waited, bag swinging on your shoulder, and only a second later, one of the doors was opening.

To your surprise, it was Stiles, flapping the flannel on his body to shake out any creases, and he stood before you. Doing a little twirl from where he stood, he began to button it up down his front, looking somewhat smart. It was a nice black and white one, no rips or tears or stains like most of his other ones, and the black stood out prominently against the white, thick patterns with flecks of grey within it.

“How do I look, then?”

“You look great, Sti. I’ve never seen you wear anything so plain before. There’s no colour.”

“Yeah, well, this is a new flannel. It’s my best one, and the skinny jeans are Noah’s. All my skinny jeans are blue or red, it was this or khakis.” He was nervous, resisting the urge to mess with his freshly-styled hair. “The place we’re going to is kinda fancy, but I don’t feel fancy enough for it. I’m gonna’ do something stupid like drop my glass and smash it or make a joke about something dumb.”

“Haven’t you met his family before?” You teased, and he huffed, searching for his keys, and finding them under the counter where he’d never bothered to pick them up from.

“No, not really. I’ve met his mom because she comes to visit a lot, and of course, his little sister, because she’s a sophomore here. But, he has a lot of family. His extended family are coming to graduation, but this is his older sister and his dad, and his uncle, and I’ve never met them before.” His keys were tucked into his back pocket, and his phone followed, your gaze moving over him.

“You got a blazer, Stiles?”

“Uh, yeah. One that my dad made me promise to bring, I wore it to my senior prom.” He shrugged, hands smoothing over his front. “You think I should wear it?”

“Go get it, show me.” He nodded, moving back to his bedroom, and you were waiting for something with orange and blue stripes to come back out, which wouldn’t surprise you. In fact, you’d always imagined Stiles going to his senior prom in a Beetlejuice suit. Noah emerged from the other side of the hall, hangers scraping over their post in a wardrobe as Stiles searched for them. “Did Stiles go to prom in a Beetlejuice suit?”

Noah paused, rolling the edges of his hoodie up, charcoal grey skinny jeans that were only a  few shades lighter than the ones Stiles had stolen from him on his legs, and a pair of his usual scuffled boots. “What?”

He was laughing, loudly, shaking his head to hide his grin. “It’s a legitimate question! I have this mental image of it!”

“Unfortunately, he did not. My dad made us both go in three-piece formal suits. He saved up to have them custom made. Said that every man should have a smart suit.” He shrugged, crouching to start tying the laces on his shoes and Stiles reappeared. Over his shoulders was a dark black suit, crisp collar and pressed edges, and it was a beautiful piece of tailoring.

“You look good, Sti. Very smart, but casual. Like a polished version of your usual self.”

“Yeah? Good enough to meet Derek’s family?” His voice shook, and you wished you could ease him more.

“Totally. You look great.” He thanked you both, and Noah grabbed his wallet from the side, and his house keys, letting them both hang in the front pocket of an oversized hoodie.

“You ready to go?” He offered, hand on the top of the door, and Stiles’ head snapped up again from where he’d been checking his phone, presumably looking for texts from Derek.

“Where are you two going?”

“We’re getting coffee!” You beamed, and Noah nodded, stepping a little further out of the door with you.

“Oh, well, have fun. I’ll text you updates about how it goes. I might need bathroom-break pep-talk during the night.” You waved to him as you went, wishing him ‘good luck’, before the two of you were wandering down the halls. Thumbing the button for the elevator, the doors popped open, and you were stepping inside along with Noah.

“So, you wanna’ show off those new small talk skills to me, then?”

“Okay, okay. Let me think of something.” He hummed under his breath, glancing up to the top of the elevator and looking around at the posters on the walls for inspiration, and he seemed to find one. Turning his attention quickly back to you, you prepared for what he’d found. “Have you listened to any of the student bands? There’s been a lot of them growing, lately.”

“I’ve noticed that, actually.” There were several posters up around the inside of the elevator, different coloured flyers, some on shiny paper and some on smooth matte, varying fonts and designs, it was dizzying. “I haven’t, I’ve never been to see a student band. I should do that before I graduate, though. Have you?”

“I’ve been to a couple.” The door clicked open, the two of you stepping through it. Out into the setting chill of the evening that was threatening to break its way in. He chose the direction you’d be going in, heading toward the coffee shop on the side of campus that had been the first the two of you had met at when beginning the study. “Some of them are good, some of them are kinda’ average. They usually play at the bars on the edges of campus or in the places in the city, the less well-known, kinda’ alternative places. They can be fun.”

“You going out optionally to a night on the town? I’m shocked.”

“Uh, no!” He protested, grinning at you. “I’ve never been for a ‘night on the town’, and I never will. However, going to one of the few small bars around here that aren’t practically a nightclub, to listen to covers of good songs and get a pint without worrying about anyone bothering me or mistaking me for my brother, that’s nice.”

“Okay, well, maybe I’ll go to one sometime.”

“You should, I think you’d have fun.” The two of you weaved between other students, the small talk keeping up between you both as he did his best, and while it was sometimes a little stuttered and stalled, it wasn’t nearly as bad as you had expected. It wasn’t until the two of you had entered the coffee shop that he fell into tight silence again. The crowds, the rush of chatter from other groups gathered around the tables, and the friendly greetings of baristas whose chit-chat diverted to him due to his allegiance with you.

“What are you drinking? My treat.”

“Uh, just a black coffee.” He choked out, eyes flicking over all the boards, so many options up there, and you chuckled.

“Really, just a black coffee?”

“I’ve never really experimented. I just ordered whatever was the quickest and the easiest.” He confessed, already glancing back over his shoulder at the queue that was forming behind you both. “What would you recommend?”

“Hm, well, do you have a sweet tooth?” He only nodded, scratching around his cuticles on one hand and staring down at the flesh growing red, and you took his hand. Lowering it back down to his side, the hand formed a fist, flexed nervously, and you let it go, squeezing comfortingly first. Turning to the barista, she was still waiting patiently, and your eyes moved over the boards overhead. “Two mint and dark chocolate hot cocoas.”

“That sounds really good, actually.” He leaned down, mumbling the words into your ear to make sure you heard the quiet tone over the talk in the small coffee house.

“And, two croissants, too.” She rang it up on the machine, and you leaned in a little closer to her. “Do you have any of the warm and fresh ones straight from the oven?”

“We made a fresh batch about twenty minutes ago, they’re cooling. I’ll get them from the back for you.” She finished it with a wink, passing the card machine over to you once you’d produced your card from your wallet. Swiping it across the reader, you moved to the end of the line, and she moved away to begin preparing your order as someone else took over at the counter.

She was working, creating two beautifully constructed hot chocolates for you both. Placing them down on the counter before you, once they were garnished with chocolate sauce and whipped cream, she disappeared into the back room. Taking one of the ceramic plates with her, you were happy to see her bypass the glass cabinet with the older ones in, and only a moment later, she was coming back. Two fresh croissants on a plate, still warm and soft to the touch, and she handed those over as well.

Noah had been scouting for a place to sit, choosing which was the best one, and he carried both of the drinks while you carried the pastries, guiding you to the seat he’d chosen. It was tucked away in the back, a small loveseat sofa with a low sitting coffee table in front of it, and as soon as the paper cups were down on the surface of the table, he was dropping down into the seat.

“It feels like rush hour on the highway, but with coffee.” He mumbled, and you settled onto the couch beside him passing him his drink over, and he stared at it curiously. “What about the whipped cream. Do I eat that first? Scrape it off? Mix it in?”

“Any of the above.” You grinned, taking a wooden stirrer from the condiments tray in the middle and beginning to stir the cream into your hot chocolate. He placed it down, copying your actions, stirring slowly and trying not to spill any over the edges, but it was an impossible feat to achieve. Sticky droplets left over the edges of your cups and his, creating rings on the table that you had to mop up with tissues. “Okay, try it. This is one of my favourite orders here. It’s bitter because of the dark chocolate, but also sweet. Reminds me of you.”

“Now, that one is a backhanded compliment.” He muttered, taking a sip of the drink, and your lips rubbed together.

“Not everything is a backhanded statement, you know. I didn’t intend for it to be mean, it’s just the truth. You’re all dark and moody, but I can already tell you’re sweet on the inside.” You sipped your drink to finish your statement, and he filled the time where he didn’t know what else to say by pulling a chunk off of his croissant. Chewing on it idly, he settled back into the cushions, and you lifted your legs up to fold underneath yourself as you turned to face him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You’ve already asked me a lot of questions today.”

“You didn’t answer many, though. You kinda’ have to give me this one.” He scowled falsely, but nodded, licking a flake of pastry from his lower lip. “Not that I think you need it, because personally, I think you’re just fine, but why are you so scared about therapy? The idea of it, anything to do with it, it makes you so closed off. Even more than usual.”

His eyes moved over the room, nervously, before scanning both you and the table, and you put your drink down, holding open palms up to him.

“No recorder, no study. I’m just curious.”

“Okay.” He sighed shakily, and slumped back. “Well, after my mom died, my dad made me and Stiles have therapy when we started acting out. We had a therapist who came to the house, and she was great, don’t get me wrong, but I hated it. I didn’t want her to tell me how to grieve or mourn, and I didn’t want her to tell me how to move on. Stiles needed all the advice he could get, but I didn’t want it. I wanted to do it my own way. Now, the idea of therapy, brings back all those feelings of sadness and pressure and stress.”

“I’m sorry, Noah.” You reached out, rubbing a hand over his shoulder, and his gaze fell to the contact. “Genuine sympathy and sorrow, not just that thing girls do that you hate.”

“Stop hanging things I’ve said over me, I don’t remember half of them. I blackout in social situations.” He grinned, moving past the moment, and you withdrew your touch.

“You know, if it makes you feel any better, I understand the nervousness of being in a study.”

“Yeah?” He picked up the rest of his croissant, a large chunk of it being eaten, as he waited for you.

“Yeah. When I moved here, I was so nervous. I was beginning to take my course and I didn’t really have any friends, and there was a senior who needed freshmen for her study.” Noah grinned, settling in for the story and sipping his drink. “She was doing a study about the difference between kids who travelled far from home for college alone as opposed to those who were still close to home, and whether it impacted social clubs, grades, all that. To be fair, it was an awesome study.”

“It sounds like it.”

You smiled, swirling the cup in your hands to gather any loose powder that may have begun to separate and gather at the bottom. “Well, I got drawn into it. She was a senior, and she was nice. I had no friends yet, I was in a flat-share with Allison and Lydia and three other girls who were all too busy getting adjusted to college themselves. So, this senior, she invited me to a party, and then another one, and suddenly people started wanting to be my friend because I was the freshman who hung out with seniors. I figured it would all drop away when her study ended and she didn’t need me anymore, but by then the whole social hierarchy had done its thing, and there I was.”

You shrugged, and Noah was hiding a shit-eating grin behind his mug. “So, you were just a little freshman lab rat, then?”

You scoffed, your laughter mixing with his, and the two of you were left in subtle amusement. His laughter was cut short, though, brought a rapid halt when a set of legs bumped against your table on the other side, followed by two more behind them.

“Hey, girl!” One of the girls on the cheer team, a lacrosse player behind her and a girl who you recognised from your psychology class texting on her phone. “Saw you over here, wanted to know what your plans for the evening were. We’re going to do some karaoke and get some food, you wanna’ come?”

Your eyes moved to Noah, whose attention was fixed on the floor again, as though the splintering wood was of utmost interest. “Maybe another time. I think we’re good here for now.”

“Oh, you sure? I think it could be super fun, you should both come.” The invitation was now extended to you both, and you shook your head at her despite it.

“Seriously, you should go, if you want to,” Noah whispered, and when you turned back to him now, he’d dared to look up, chewing on a lower lip that would go raw, but he met your gaze.

“No, I’m sure. I’m having fun here.” You held his gaze for a second longer, before turning to her, and confirming your denial, and she smiled, promising to make plans with you soon, before she was walking away. Noah was fidgeting beside you, shuffling in his seat, and you could practically feel the nerves rolling off of him in waves. “I’m serious, Noah. I’m having fun, and I’m perfectly happy here with you, right now.”

He was trying not to grin, a smile that was being bitten back on the inside of his cheek. “Well, for the record, I’m having fun too.”

“What was that?” You cupped your ear, challenging him to repeat it, even though you had heard it perfectly, and by the look on his face, he knew the game you were playing.

“I said I’m having fun. I won’t deny it.”

“Two victories in one day, for this gal. I’m breaking down all your walls, Noah Stilinski.” You poked at his cheek, and he swatted your hand away, taking a bite from your croissant as punishment, and you tried to snatch it back from him.

“Two victories, one loss. You’re not getting this croissant back, now.”

[itsstrange]

Coffee Run & Green Eyes

Series: Spark Between Us

Relationship: Jensen Ackles x Skyline McNoir (OFC)

A/N: Hey everyone! I know it’s been a long time and I apologize for those waiting for more stories, but if you follow me on IG then you would know that this last week I was struck with a stomach flu which caused me to not have enough energy for various things. Luckily, I’ve recovered and feel much better. I also want to apologize to those who have requested me some stories, don’t worry I have Not forgotten about you! Just been dealing with some things!

But!! To not keep you guys in the dark I decided to post a Series I wrote for Ao3 on here, just to give y’all something to read meanwhile I work on some other works for y’all!! Hope y’all enjoy it!

Another thing, we have hit 105 followers y’all!!!! Thank you so much for all the love y’all continue in giving me!! I appreciate it so much!! 🥲💚

✨{Credits to owner for the gif}✨

Summary: Skyline McNoir tags along with a few friends who are attending a convention of some show she’s never watched. Little did she know, she would fall head over heels for the lead actor.

Word Count: 2.4 K

Warnings: Will contain Fluff, public sex, alcohol consumption, public fingering, just pure NSFW for all you Jensen fans out there 😊

————

ENJOY!!

————

The blasting chorus of Follow Me Now by Jason Gleed, wakes Skyline up. Her Hazel eyes glare straight ahead at the coconut cream wall for a few seconds before bringing the cover above her head, trying to muffled the music. Which didn’t help. At all. Then to make the morning less fun, her bed begins to shake violently by her best friend who’s jumping up down awhile singing at the top of her lungs. Skyline groans into the covers and tries to bury herself deeper into the warmth, but before she can even hide, the covers are being shoved off her form. A shiver runs throughout her body from the coldness in the room.

“C’mon Sky! Today’s the day!” Erin yells as she hovers above,

Skyline groans once again, eyes closed shut when it’s far too bright in the room “Five more minutes,”

“No come on,” Erin says, slightly pushing Sky’s body with her foot, “Tiffany and Laila are already downstairs grabbing breakfast,”

Still not moving, Erin shoves her body once again with her foot, when that didn’t do the trick an evil smirk spreads on her face. Grabbing an unused pillow, she raises it above her head before roughly slamming it against Sky’s head, causing her to jerk upright. With sleep still in her eyes, Sky is only able to squint at her best friend.

“Erin! What the fu-,” Her words were cut off when a large pillow smacks her in the face,

Erin chuckles at her, ignoring the death stare as she hops off her bed, “Chop chop.. we got a busy day today!”

With a roll of her eyes and a loud groan, Sky rolls off the comforter and towards the bathroom. After taking care of her regular morning routines, she hops in the shower. Erin’s music still blasted through the speakers, as Sky took a quick shower and she honestly hoped none of their neighbors complained about their disturbance, she knew she would have if she was trying to get a few more hours of shut eye.

That’s all she ever really wanted at the moment, sleep. After months of studying, exams, piles upon piles of work, and busting all nighters she was finally in winter break. The feeling of being able to come home for the holidays and spending those days with her family sounded amazing and relaxing. However, after the second day of being home, she gets a call from Erin. Mentioning something about having another extra ticket for a convention to meet the cast of some show she’s never watched. She kindly declined the offer, wanting to spend her days off with her family sounded like a much better idea than meeting unknown actors. However, Sky often forgets Erin is not the type to take no for an answer and demanded her to hand the phone over to her mother.

Thinking her mother would defend her and find a way to convince Erin to try and find someone else to take to the convention, Sky hands the phone over to her mother. You can only imagine who won that argument.

Once out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her body, Sky heads out the bathroom and towards her duffel bag. In the winter season of Austin, Texas, she decides on a plain long sleeve, black jeans, grey hoodie, black boots on her feet with a leather jacket on top. Once her hair is made and adds a couple splashes of makeup on her face, she grabs her phone and book from the small counter as she follows Erin out the room. After a few minutes later, they finally arrive in the breakfast buffet where Tiffany and Laila are already stuffing themselves with waffles and eggs. With a yawn, Sky makes her way over to the buffet with Erin right behind her. Once they both get their plates and sit down on the table, they dig in before getting on with their day.

****

8:45 am

“Oh my god!! I just hugged Speight!!” The sound of Laila coming around the corner interrupts Sky from her book,

The sight of Laila bouncing up and down on her feet with a wide grin makes a small chuckle escape from Skyline. As her friends beamed over this Speight guy, Sky returns her focus down on her book. Not really paying much attention at their excitement, but still having a smile on her lips as she reads the next chapter in her book. Even if she’s not having the same excitement as her friends, she is still having fun with them. Being around them in general for whatever reason always brightens her day. No matter how rough of a day she’s seems to be having, her girls always know just how to distract her and make her have fun.

“Ohh it’s almost time for Osric’s panel,” Tiffany says while looking down at her phone,

No longer able to focus on her book, Sky marks her spot before getting up from the floor.

“You guys go in, I’ve got auto’s for Kim at nine,”

It’s barely nine in the morning? Jesus. Sky thinks to herself, the day has felt extremely long she could have sworn it was already noon.

“Okay, let’s go Sky,” Laila motions her head to the side for her to follow,

“If you guys want me to continue tagging along, I’m gonna need an espresso,” Sky states, feeling yet another yawn creeping up her throat,

Her friends chuckle at her but agreed with her idea. They wouldn’t want her dragging her feet all over the convention, besides, coffee did sound like a great idea. Once writing down their preferred drinks in her notes, Sky leaves through the doors, down the steps and towards a coffee shop not too far away. It was only a couple blocks away, she should make it back in no time. Hugging her jacket closer to her body when the wind picks up, Sky quickens her movements to avoid its freezing weather but careful to not slip on the wet pavement. The last thing she needs is to fall flat on her ass, better yet get a concussion or go back home with a broken wrist.

Boy would her mom faint if she saw her daughter in a cast. Will most likely give her a lecture on why it’s important not to be on the phone during the most worst seasons. ‘If you weren’t on the phone this wouldn’t have happened Skyline’. Yep. She can definitely hear her ranting.

After a few blocks in the harsh winds, Skyline is finally reaching the small little coffee joint. Just as she reaches for the handle of the door, another, large, hand reaches at the same time. Thick fingers slightly touching her own, making her pull back with an apology.

“No it’s fine go ahead,” A deep voice says beside her, letting a shiver run down her body,

Most likely from the weather, what else would it be?

She looks up at the man. Dark beard, shades on his face, black hat on his head, with a black T-Shirt underneath a checkered navy flannel and black Levi’s jacket. Even under the dark shades she can tell he was good looking, handsome in fact.

“No you can go ahead,” Sky smiles at the man, stepping aside for him to enter,

He only shakes his head, gripping the door handle as he opens it for her, “Please I insist, my mom would throw a fit if she finds out I didn’t show my manners,”

Sky chuckles at him, “Well we wouldn’t want that now,”

The man chuckles back, smile forming on his lips. Man did that smile just make her stomach flip.

“No, we really wouldn’t,” Chuckling once more at him she accepts the offer with a thanks before entering the coffee shop,

As she walks inside, the change of temperature immediately hits her cold cheeks. Almost as if a heating furnace was suddenly shoved in her face, but she wasn’t complaining, the warmth was needed. Walking further into the coffee shop, she takes a glance over her shoulder to see if the man was behind her, but only lets a smile appear when she catches the moment of him allowing an elderly couple enter before him.

That’s sweet. She thinks to herself as she walks up to the counter. Once her drinks have been ordered and paid, she heads over to a small empty table near the window. Sitting on the chair she pulls out her book and continues where she left off as she waits for her drinks. A few minutes had passed and Sky was too engrossed in her book to notice her name being called out by the barista. Eventually though, she comes back to reality when someone places her drink in front her. Looking up from her book she meets eyes with bright emerald orbs, and noticing those breathtaking eyes belong to the same man from the door.

“I’m guessing your Skyline?,” The way her name rolls off his deep voice sends a shiver down her spine,

Definitely can’t be the air this time, absolutely not.

Eyeing the cup of coffee in front of her, she lifts a eyebrow at the man, teasing him. Even if she sees her name written on the side of the cup.

“And what makes you think that?” The way his lips slightly lift causes something to flip in her stomach,

Again.

“Well.. seeing how there’s hardly folks in here,” He looks around the shop for a few seconds before landing his eyes on hers again, “and you being the only one sitting down without a coffee.. I took a guess,”

Sky hums with a smile as she takes the cup, “Nice deduction,”

He shrugs a shoulder with a smile, “This seat taken?”

Sky shakes her head as she takes careful sips from her drink. With a small smile the man pulls out the chair with his other free hand, seeing how he has a cup of his own in one hand.

“I’m Ross by the way,” The man extends a hand once seated,

With a smile Sky accepts his hand, feeling it warm and rough as it wraps around her own.

“Nice to meet you,” Still smiling she pulls away from his firm hand,

“You around from here or just passing through?” He asks, taking careful sips from his cup,

Sky softly smiles at him as she wraps her hands around her coffee, trying to warm up her fingers.

“Born and raised,” He raises a brow at the small fact,

“No kidding?”

She nods, “Yeah but I’m just home for the holidays,”

He hums with a nod, “In the army or something?”

Sky couldn’t help the chuckle that escapes from her, definitely noticing how the corner of the mans lips slightly lift as well.

“More like college. My last year,”

“Really? What’re you studying?” He asks, taking another sip, never letting his eyes drift from her Hazel ones,

But does notice how they dart down towards his mouth before quickly looking back up to his eyes. A small smirk hides behind the cup, but doesn’t hide it when he pulls it away from his face.

“Biology,” He hums once again with a sincere smile, making her stomach flip,

It was such an odd feeling, especially when it was coming directly from a man she hardly knows. But for some reason, it felt right. Their conversations switched from topic to topic, never faltering. It just felt right, as if they were long time friends catching up with each other instead of two strangers who just met. Eventually, their conversation was cut short with the barista calling out her name once again with the rest of her drinks.

Getting up from her seat she walks over to the counter where her drinks waited. As she grabbed a cup holder and begins placing her drinks in each space, Ross, settles next to her. Getting a whiff of his cologne. Leaning on the counter he had both his and her coffee in either hand, which he hands over with a smile once all coffees were safely secured in place.

“I should get going,” She smiles up at his green orbs, and only then noticing how freckles are splashed on his face,

This man was literally dashing, no doubt about it.

“Yeah same here,” He says looking down at his watch, “Need a ride?”

She shakes her head with a smile, “I’m good thanks,”

“You sure? Heard it might rain,” He continues to lean on the counter as she places her coffee in an empty slot of the holder,

“I’m sure, it’s just a few blocks from here,”

“Well it can rain from those few blocks,” He argues as he gives her a smile, not wanting to end their little moment,

Neither did she, but she had friends waiting and the moment she tells them the reason why she took a little longer than expected, they wouldn’t leave her alone until she gives them the whole shebang.

She lets a small chuckle escape her lips as she picks up the coffees, “I’ll make a run for it,”

He softly chuckles at her comment, green eyes staring straight into her Hazel orbs that have slightly turned grey from her sweater. Definitely finding her and her eyes fascinating and beautiful.

“It was nice meeting you Ross,” She smiles at him as she walks away,

He smiles as he watches her, sending her a wave goodbye when she looks over her shoulder before walking out the door. Watching her leave didn’t feel like a loss, it felt the complete opposite actually. Why? Well for starters, he knew it wouldn’t be the last time he saw her considering she had the all too familiar Creation Entertainment wristband on her left hand. Also, he had her book inside his jacket, another reason on why he would see her again.

Both to retrieve her book and to have a reason to see her again. Don’t get him wrong, he was actually going to give it to her before she left, but the thought of holding it and having a reason to see her again sounded like great idea. He wanted to see her again, wanted to have a conversation longer than 10 minutes and just wanted to get to know her. She was different, in a good way, absolutely in a good way. The way she seemed to not know him or maybe she did but simply did not care made him feel relaxed, made him feel somewhat normal and he would give anything to feel that way again.

Even if it meant “stealing” her book to have an excuse to see her again.

PART 2

————

-Hope y’all enjoyed this first part of the series!! Stay tuned for random updates for ‘Spark Between Us’ I won’t give an announcement on when I’ll update it so keep your eyes peeled on it!!

-Turn on Post Notifications!! 🔔 For more!!

————

[shhh-no-ones-home]

personal jesus* frank castle x reader

+++++++++

I don't usually add these disclaimers but this fic is nothing really close to anything I've written before so we'll add 'em anyway. And usually my stories are between 800 and 2500 words but I've exceeded that on this one so I'll add that too.

Wc: 2741

Warnings: canon level blood and gore mention, stitching him up, bad words, smut, and the likeness. It's very vulgar.

*- this is nothing but smut. Porn with a little bit of plot basically. Thigh riding, nipple play, not really a blood kink but like maybe if you squint, dick riding, unprotected p in v (please use protection in real life), and I think that's it. Enjoy 🥴

Song: joker and the thief by wolfmother

tag list: @cynic-spirit

+++++++++

I sat on the couch reading, enjoying my late Saturday evening, the coffee sat under the lamp next to me long forgotten. I was all but consumed and was ready to ignore my alarm telling me to go to bed in the next couple minutes. It was almost midnight but I was determined to finish this book. After all, I only had twelve chapters left. Work could wait.

I flipped the page, new chapter, alarm began to ring. I turned it off and kept reading. Turned my attention to the next page and there was a knock at my door. I rolled my eyes. It's midnight, it couldn't be anyone that important. I flipped the page. Then the banging on the door started. Once, then another time, then another.

"Alright, I'm coming."

I mumbled under my breath, setting the bookmark in the spine and setting the book next to the mug on the side table. There was another slam of a fist against my door as I peaked through the peephole. It was frank and he didn't look great.

"Shit."

I mumbled under my breath as I fiddled with the door chain quickly. In a matter of rushed seconds the door was open and he was stumbling forward into my arms.

"What the fuck frank?"

I inquired a little annoyed, kicking the door closed and walking him to the kitchen table.

"I was gonna go home but your place was closer."

He groaned as I set him in the leather chair.

"And if I don't get this taken care of I'm gonna bleed out."

His voice was gruff, head dropping back against the back of the chair as I assessed him. He was covered in blood and I couldn't tell if it was his or someone else's. But knowing him it was probably a mixture of both. But as my gaze traveled up his torso and to his neck I noticed something.

"How far down does this go?"

I asked, touching the cut lightly with my finger tips and he jolted upright, grabbing my hand tightly in his own.

"I can't fix it if you don't let me at least see it."

I said and he let out a long shaky breath.

"Start with something else first."

He demanded, voice deep and strained like he'd been yelling. I shook my head.

"I'll be right back."

I look over him one last time before disappearing down the hall. I got in the closet first, getting everything I needed out of it before going back to the kitchen and filling a bowl with warm water.

"So, how much of this is yours?"

I asked, pulling up a tv tray and setting the bowl on it, soaking a wash cloth. He sent me a look, resituating in his seat to get comfortable, legs spread wide and one hand resting on each thigh.

"No, answer, per usual. That's fine."

I mumbled under my breath as I got to work wiping the blood off his face. I was careful not to push on the bruises I could see, taking extra care around the cuts and scrapes. There was a small one under his left eye, another deep into the brow bone. That One he hissed at when I went over it. I shook my head.

"I need to see this at a batter angle."

I stated boldly before straddling his left thigh and tilting his head up and to the side for more light. He looked at me for a moment, holding his breath as I rinsed the rag and got back to work. It took him a second to let the air back out, when he realized I didn't care what he was doing beneath me.

"This must've been some fight."

I mentioned more to myself than anything. He stared back ahead of him, swallowing hard.

"You should see the other guy."

He said quietly and I snorted, wiping the remaining blood off his face.

"Something tells me he'll be in the paper later this week under that section in the back titled 'obituary'."

He side eyed me, tightening his jaw as I moved to open my kit. I started with q-tips and rubbing alcohol, and setting out a few small butterfly bandaids.

"This is gonna hurt."

I said and he huffed a laugh out, as if to say sarcastically 'and you think it didn't hurt when it happened?' But I just ignored it. I dipped the first q-tip into the alcohol and pressed it to the cut under his eye. He hissed and jerked away and I sent him a look.

"Sit still or it's gonna get infected."

He drew his brows at me before going back to where he was before.

"If it hurts that bad, just squeeze here."

I said, grabbing his hand that had been situated under me on his thigh and placing it against my hip.

"But don't move."

I said firmly, holding his jaw tightly with one hand and getting back to work. His breathing was unsteady as I ran a new qtip dipped in alcohol over the cut. It was still trying to scab so I was getting more coagulated blood than I had originally bargained for. He kept his jaw locked in place as I added the bandaid to the cut under his eye. Now onto the brow bone. It was deeper, still running blood down and almost into his eye. It was a race between me and it and luckily I was winning. When I touched it with the qtip he squeezed my hip so tightly i made a pained noise.

"Shit."

We said in unison and I shook my head.

"Sit still."

I said annoyed, grabbing another bandaid and positioning it around his eyebrow. When it was on I moved his head again via his jaw to make sure there weren't any more. I had cleaned all the blood off already and the only traces of the fight that were left were the deep purple and yellow bruises littered under his left eye and across his nose and right cheek. I nodded once in content before pushing his head to look up and inspecting the deep cut that started at the base of his jaw and got thicker the further under his shirt collar it got.

"I need to look at this now."

I said and he sighed.

"Fine but don't do that shit you just did to my face."

I rolled my eyes.

"Big baby."

He glared at me before letting his death grip on me go and lifting his shirt. My eyes went wide as his shirt hit the table in a wet heap. The cut went all the way to his sternum and was all but gushing blood.

"Why the fuck didn't we start with this?!?"

I said in a loud, angry tone, looking from the cut to his face.

"Didnt want you to worry."

He managed and I shook my head, getting my stuff out quickly.

"No, you don't get to do that. All this time and you could've been dead in my kitchen."

I said a little more pissed off than I meant. I started again by wiping the blood away, holding a dry wash cloth to his chest to stop it from bleeding more.

"Hold this, lots of pressure."

I instructed, his right hand coming up and doing as told. His left hand went back to my side as I started cleaning the small part of the cut at his jaw.

"What did you do frank?"

I inquired, again more as a 'thinking out loud' than looking for an actual answer.

"I backed up before he could run me all the way through. Damn ninja. Sliced up, almost took my fucking ear off."

I sent him a look, one he returned as I cleaned the thinner part of the cut, adding butterfly bandaids; two on his throat, one on his collar bone, one just below it on the edge of his peck.

"That's gonna need stitches."

He sighed, sinking further into the chair and his lower stomach pressing against my thighs.

"Alright. Let's get it over with."

He complied and i bit my tongue. I quickly got everything out, sterilized the needle and he moved his hand. It was still bleeding and I knew this would be messy. I leaned forward to get a better look and his hand went with my hip.

"Why don't you just sit."

He said and I looked up to him, brows drawn.

"What?"

I asked and he rolled his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips but it was barely there.

"Sit."

He said, grabbing my waist and pushing me down onto his leg. I made a surprised noise and he laughed, groaning a bit.

"fine, but don't move, I don't want to make it worse."

He stared down at me intently as I got to work stitching him up. His gaze was intense and he kept his iron grip on my hip the entire time. I would be flustered if I weren't so focused. The stitches were barely helping as I sewed against his chest. It was still bleeding a lot. And when the stitches were done it seemed like I had more work to do than when I started. I moved to clean it and he caught my hand.

"Is that really necessary?"

He asked and I deadpanned.

"Yes frank now let go."

I said sternly and he did, brows drawn as I poured the alcohol over his chest. He hissed, throwing his head back as he bruised my hip more. The blood ran freely down his torso as he breathed heavily, it rippling against his abs as they tensed. I took another dry rag and wiped it off. The bleeding was starting to slow now that the cut was together and I was more relieved. He looked back down at me, his chest rising and falling quickly.

"Shit woman you sure know how to do a number on me."

I smirked at him as I leaned over and put the stuff back on the tv tray.

"I've had a lot of practice."

I said a little cocky and he smiled.

"Good thing too."

He said and I rolled my eyes playfully.

"You're a menace frank castle. But I wouldn't want it any other way."

He just stared at me for a second and then I realized I was still sitting on him and should probably get up before it gets weird. I placed my hands at his shoulders and tried but he still had a grip on me that was prohibiting me from doing so.

"Frank?"

I asked and in a second his lips were against my own. It was then that I'd realized he had a cut on his lip. He tasted like iron and hissed through his teeth when I ran my tongue across it. I smiled against him but he kept going. It was needy and rushed and everything I had imagined it would be. Not that I had thought about it often but he wound up in my apartment covered in blood a couple times a month so I'd be lying if I said it hadn't crossed my mind once or twice.

"Frank."

I moaned against him as he kissed the side of my mouth, then my jaw, then across my neck. My arms were around his shoulders now, holding on for dear life as his hands roamed my body. I adjusted against his thigh and he growled against my ear, his hands guiding me to do it again. I did it without even thinking, pressing my core further against him if that was even possible. I could feel myself getting wetter and wetter and before I knew what was happening my own blood soaked shirt was off and sitting next to his on the glass table.

"I've been wanting to do this for a while."

He confessed through staggered breaths as he undid my bra, his mouth traveling across my collar bone and down my chest. Then my nipple was in his mouth and I was moaning again. I scratched lightly at the back of his head with one hand and trailed my finger tips down his torso with the other, being careful not to touch the cut. As I got further down his motions slowed, and when I began palming him through his jeans he rested his forehead against my chest and breathed heavily.

"Shit."

He breathed out and I laughed, his hips pushing up to meet my hand. He was already hard and I could tell he wanted more. As I undid his pants he sat back upright, kissing me again like his life depended on it. It was just as harsh and sloppy as before but he froze when I took him out of his pants, stroking him lightly. His eyes were closed and his mouth hung open and I could feel his hands at my thighs trying to push into my pajamas shorts. I kissed across his face, feeling his hot breath fan over my jaw and neck.

"Need you. Now."

He said, finally looking at me. His pupils were blown out and his eyes were black with lust as he pulled my one leg over his right one so I was sitting on his lap properly now. I kissed him again as he pushed my shorts and panties to the side, holding me against him. I looked down long enough to line him up and sank down onto him. I moaned at the new feeling, watching as he dropped his head back against the chair, his brows knitted together as he screwed his eyes shut. I kissed across his exposed neck and chest as I moved on top of him. His legs were still spread wide beneath me, helping me out as I rode him.

"Shit. Faster."

He managed, looking back to me as his hands gripped my ass tightly.

"Yes sir."

I said playfully, and he groaned. As I did as told he slapped my ass and I squealed in surprise, clenching around him. He screwed his brows together, watching my every move with intent as I bounced on top of him quickly.

"Frank."

I moaned, reaching down to circle my clit as he kept me steady on top of him.

"Keep going beautiful."

He encouraged and I dropped my head back, feeling the knot build in my stomach.

"Frank."

I whined again, my legs beginning to shake.

"Just a little bit more."

He grunted out, thrusting up to meet me as my movements got slower.

"Oh god."

I said panicked, as I felt closer, him pounding up into me.

"Oh my god."

I yelled as my body shook, my orgasm ripping through my body, pussy clenching around him. He held me close as I shook on top of him, riding out my high as he chased his own.

"Y/n."

He moaned, his thrusts getting harsher.

"Y/n."

He said a little louder and I could hear the chair creak. I lifted up and dropped to meet him and he moaned loudly against my neck, hand placed firmly at my back as he came in me. I could feel him twitch against my walls as his pace slowed. We both breathed heavily, sporadically, as we calmed down. We still had a death grip on each other, my arms around his shoulders, his arms around my waist, our heads pressed against one another. It was like the aftermath of a hurricane.

"Thanks."

I said through a breathy laugh and he sat up, brows drawn in confusion. His hands were at my hips now and I could feel him going soft in me.

"For what?"

"For the great ride cowboy."

I said with a wink and he smiled, shaking his head at me.

"Is that a fair trade off?"

He asked and I shrugged.

"I stitch you up and you cum in me, I don't know if that has the same affect."

He laughed, kissing my cheek.

"Would it make it better if I helped clean up?"

He asked, gazing up at me, an innocence to him that I hadn't seen before.

"How about this. We go take a shower to get this blood off both of us and then we'll see where that takes us."

He kissed my jaw, tracing his fingers lightly up my back.

"Sure thing doc."

[scmsdivinecultists]

What your fave SCM god says about you

I read one psychology article and now I’m all knowing. Hope at least one of these points apply to you simps

If your favourite is Leon, you are one of the following:

Youngest child

Outcast or the “popular” kid

Daddy issues

Your childhood dream was either to be royalty or be rich

You hyperfixate to many things

You might say ur not charismatic but you’ve had at least more than 1 person you rejected a love confession to

“You’re wrong, I’m right, shut up.”

You don’t fall in love easily but once you do, you fall hard

You like smug bastards or you have a bondage fantasy

Your favourite voltage game is one of the following: Kissed by the Baddest Bidder, Court of Darkness, Masquerade’s Kiss, or Kings of Paradise

You have fairy lights in your room filled with pictures or posters

You had a massive friend group but at least 5 people have left from then to now

You cling onto memories like they’re a lifeline

You have the latest phone or more than 3 leisure electronics

If your favourite is Scorpio:

You can’t be any taller than 5′6

You probably listen to bands and can’t go anywhere without your headphones

Really creative

Your favourite Shakespeare play was Hamlet or Macbeth

Have had or is going through an emo phase

Hates writing essays

Have 3 best friends max

You have definitely bought albums, posters, or merch of your faves

ur probably a weeb

you’ve broken a bone or you’re very knowledgeable in the medical field/how to harm the human body for some reason

dark humour is the best humour

Your friends are very concerned for you because of said humour

You like watching people play Monopoly bc of the chaos

into so many fandoms that you know the lore of your faves more than you know the material you learn at school

If your favourite is Teorus:

You are an only or youngest child

Spoiled

Daddy/Mommy issues

Abandonment issues

You feel like you fade into the background/don’t contribute much to the group

You feel like you are often forgotten

You’re close with your cousins

You probably have a pet

Taylor Swift or 1D for life

Have definitely threatened to kill or beat someone up despite you intimidating no one

You want to play an important role but you are so not the leader type

You like Ouran Host Club

You like the outdoors

You probably like To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before

Your favourite disney princess is Rapunzel or Cinderella

If your favourite is Huedhaut:

You are definitely a romantic

You’re not an air sign (Gemini, Aquarius, or Libra)

You’re a moron or you make bad decisions and Hue is there to help balance that out

Chances are you read more fanfic than actual books

Your system is 70% caffeine

For some reason you have lots of random trivia

Have you considered therapy for your suppressed trauma?

Dungeons and Dragons fan

You’re really into alcohol or you despise it

Loyalty is the trait you admire most

You want to feel like a sassy and classy bitch but you gave up after 2 days

Your favourite ship trope is enemies to lovers or slow burn

A lot of pent up angst but you hide it 

you put other people > yourself bc you don’t want them to make the same mistakes you did

Why do you have so many memes saved?

Why do you have reaction pictures for everything?

If your favourite is Dui:

You’re probably not into guys

FAKE IT TILL YOU MAKE IT

Either you’re a precious sunshine child or you are the most fucked up human in your friend circle

You have a choking kink

You either take sides in fights or you’re the middle ground

You make lots of threats but no one is acc taking them seriously

You probably are a massive manipulator

You’re psychotic and have violent tendencies 

Your best friend lives far away from you/ you have an internet friend that gets you more than your IRL ones

You say honesty is the best policy but you lie the most

Everyone comes to you for advice but you think you’re the most mentally unstable

You have identity issues and u change ur mind all the time 

Whatever you were as a kid, you’re probably the opposite of that now

If your favourite is Ichthys:

You are attached to the characters with the most trauma

You must not be a clean freak or your room is equally as messy as Ikky’s

Oldest or middle child (either way u have siblings) 

Never got to go to an amusement park as a kid 

Want attention/didn't get enough attention as a kid

You want Ichthys’ parents to adopt u bc they are the family stability you crave

Unresolved trauma and definitely not mentally stable 

You liked dinosaurs as a kid

You had pet fish as a kid and they all died bc you overfed them

Using anything else to escape ur reality 

Cartoons > real life actors

Probably hate seafood or afraid of the sea (ironic as it is)

Nostalgia is your best friend

Hurt/Comfort is your favourite AO3 tag

You collect random shit or you have a memory box

You are the reason child leashes were invented

You got into real dangerous situations as a kid and you’re wondering how you lived through that

Your comfort characters all got it the worst or are dead

If your favourite is Zyglavis:

How are those high expectations treatin ya? 

You either want to get into medical, sciences, or law

When you were younger you got enrolled in extra classes (swimming, piano, ballet, etc)

Your parents encouraged creativity until you got older and they told you to choose a more “realistic” goal

Good grades = everything and you’ll pull all-nighters to finish tasks or assignments

Former gifted student 

The actual smart kid in class 

YOU HAVE SELF ESTEEM/CONFIDENCE ISSUES

80s are not good enough for you or your parents

Overachiever for any reason 

Sleep? What is sleep?

A dom or a brat

You have strict parents or you have had pretty loose rules growing up

You had a lot of friends in grade school and now you have like 4 friends

You are no longer human, you’re just a walking husk of stress

If your favourite is Krioff:

You want to fuck one of Krioff’s family members

You have siblings

A pyromaniac or deathly afraid of fire

Commitment issues

You watch or ur a sports fan

You own an iPhone 6

You’ve ate forbidden items or you’ve thought about it (the fish tank pebbles, erasers, glass, slime, etc)

Everyone thinks you’re the awkward kid but no you’re just shy

You actually like the ocean waves

Once people get to know you, they got a whole thing coming for them

You either suck at driving or can’t drive

A great listener but you don’t feel like you give good advice

Conflict is a no no for you

You definitely had a glow up

You’ve befriended the seniors growing up

You either don’t like kids or you love them

You have a sweet tooth and everyone questions how you are not diabetic with the amount of sweets you’ve consumed

If your favourite is Aigonorus:

You’re either an insomniac or a hypersomniac. Whichever one, you don’t know how much sleep is enough sleep

You’re probably a sub

Commitment or abandonment issues

Desperate for validation and appreciation

touch/love/attention starved

You have a stuffed animal collection or you still have those childhood stuffed animals

You love the idea of love but you are not ready to deal with breakups

You wish you didn’t care but you care too much

Your aesthetic is cutecore

Probably into maid cat boys

Studio Ghibli or Sanrio stan

Comfort > style anyday

You only own sneakers nothing else

If your favourite is Partheno:

You’re definitely not into just guys 

You’re a drama kid and you are here for the tea whether it involves you or not

you have the receipts for everything

You were the one kid that played “family” or “house” every recess

no one knows where you get all your cute shit but it serves

have been suspected of witchcraft or considered the dark arts

Stole makeup from your fam as a kid and played with it

HIDE THE TRAUMA. HIDE THE PAST.

You already have a senior quote picked out

You’re either really horny or you just want to cry over how much you love so and so

“Why do men-”

You really want to own that Partheno doll in that one CG

Your most used social media app is Instagram or Snapchat

Your favourite demon brother from Obey Me is most likely Asmodeus 

If your favourite is Tauxolouve:

Your favourite KBTBB guy is either Baba or Mamo

You’re into music or theatre

Your ideal date is to go to an opera or a museum

You say you like/dislike something but end up changing ur mind later or when you try it out

In your opinion, the music nowadays is just not it

You recently found a receipt from Walmart for something you bought 5 months ago

Anniversaries are important

When making decisions, you pick the worst possible one

Your most expensive clothing items are your shoes or jewelry

You wish you could attend a ball and marry into royalty, like Cinderella

You like the idea of soulmates or string of fate 

Obviously or secretly insecure/self deprecating but you’ll raise all hell if your loved ones talk shit abt themselves

You want your partner to propose first

You like the underrated characters or your favourite characters are unappreciated

If your favourite is Karno you are:

You have childhood trauma, some of you are just not aware of it

You’re the parent of the group

You enjoy ships that have a mom/dad dynamic

Either you’re banned from the kitchen or you’re the one banning people from the kitchen

You were threated with the slipper or you threaten with the slipper

As a kid, you enjoyed Dora or Ni Hao Kai Lan

Your favourite trope is the found family trope

Either you’re an example to your family or you keep getting compared to other kids

An angel around the family but a chaotic bastard with others

You’re probably into some really kinky shit

You like Dangonronpa

Spiritual or religious

Probably had an imaginary friend 

You decided you were gonna turn your life around after reading/watching something and went back to the hot mess you were in 3 days

[peppersonironi]

This Is… Exactly What It Looks Like

Part One: Rhodey

Summary:

Sam silently prayed that Bucky had left his phone in their room. Or maybe he had headed out for errands?

Alas, the universe was not with Sam Wilson on that day.

As soon as Rhodey had pressed ‘call’ a ringing noise came from the other room. Specifically: a ring tone. And not just any ringtone. It was audio from a Life Alert commercial.

Sam silently cursed his outrageous sense of humor.

*****

AKA: 5 times the Avengers found out Sam and Bucky were dating, and 1 time it was the public

Notes:

It's my first Sambucy Fic! I hope you like it!

Now this fic was inspired by THIS post by @wenellyb. I thought it was hilarious, and just had to write it. Also, I adore these types of fics, so I just had to extend it out. I really hope you all enjoy it!

Quick note for some light language in this. And maybe it'll be ooc? idk. I really leaned into the more humorous sides of these characters, but I hope it remains good.

Read On Ao3

One of the best kept secrets in this modern day and age was that Sam Wilson is a little shit .

Case in point: he knew perfectly well that Bucky liked to make breakfast while Sam was out on a run for the both of them. And yet, today, he had decided to weaponize his knowledge that his boyfriend was most definitely not a morning person and go out early so that he would have enough time to make it himself.

If Sam were to tell Bucky exactly why, it would be some snarky remark about not liking his toast burned - it never was - or there wasn’t enough sugar in the coffee - there always was. But if Sam were to be honest with himself, he’d admit that he loved the look on Bucky’s face when he saw his favourite meal.

So that was how Sam found himself, at eight o’clock in the morning, chopping up a melon and waiting for his baked oatmeal to be ready. It was calm this early in the morning, peaceful.

So, of course, it was at that exact moment, just when Sam had had that thought, that a knock came at the door.

Sam sighed heavily but set down his knife, wiped his hands, and went to get the door.

“Rhodey?” Sam asked, a touch surprised to see him. Especially at his and Bucky’s apartment. And in the morning.

Rhodey nodded in greeting. “Hey, Sam. Are you busy?”

Sam frowned but gestured for Rhodey to come in. “Not really. What do you need?”

Rhodey sighed and rubbed his temples. “There’s been some chatter about arms dealers in Italy that’s been going on, and I was working on it, so they sent me to get you. You up for some Captain America-ing?”

“Sure,” Sam grinned, “When do we move out?”

“As soon as possible, if you can manage it.”

Sam glanced back at the oven, and his plans for that morning and sighed internally. But he knew this is what he had signed up for. And he loved the job, he really did. He just wished Rhodey had waited a few more hours.

Sam nodded. “Alright, let me grab my stuff. Any other stops we’re making?”

Rhodey shook his head, “I don’t think anyone else is available at the moment.” He paused to consider, pursing his lips together. “Actually, have you talked to Bucky recently? I think he would be very useful on this mission, we need all the help we can get.”

Shit.

Sam shrugged as casually as he could manage. He did want to lie to Rhodey, but… the alternative was less that ideal.

Rhodey nodded. “You know what? I think I’ll give him a call, see if he’s available.”

Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“I don’t if that’s-”

But it was too late. Rhodey had already grabbed his phone from his pocket, dialed, and lifted it to his ear.

Sam silently prayed that Bucky had left his phone in their room. Or maybe he had headed out for errands?

Alas, the universe was not with Sam Wilson on that day.

As soon as Rhodey had pressed ‘call’ a ringing noise came from the other room. Specifically: a ring tone. And not just any ringtone. It was audio from a Life Alert commercial.

Sam silently cursed his outrageous sense of humor.

Rhodey glanced over towards the noise, and Sam followed, and died a little bit inside.

Set out on the coffee table in their living room, with the extra wide screen that Sam had gotten because “it’s easier on your old man eyes”, was Bucky’s phone. Lit up. WIth Rhodey’s name prominently displayed, announcing to all the world that the colonel was calling.

Rhodey and Sam slowly turned their gazes back to each other, staring in silence.

Neither moved.

The only sound in the room was Bucky’s phone, still playing “Help! I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!

Slowly, the song faded out and the phone in the other room went dark. Rhodey lowered his own cell from his ear and pocketed it. All the while maintaining eye contact with Sam.

Neither spoke.

The house was silent.

Or at least, it was until a low groaning came from one of the hallways. For the first time in the past two minutes, Rhodey and Sam tore their gazes away from each other and directed them to the lumbering form of one Bucky Barnes, who had just woken up for the first time and was dressed in pajamas to match.

“Hey sweetheart?” Bucky asked, rubbing his eyes. “Was that my phone ringing?”

When no answer came, Bucky glanced fully into the kitchen, and realised what was going on.

“Oh. Hi, Rhodey.”

Rhodey nodded in greeting. “Hi, Bucky.”

This time the silence that followed was three times as suffocating. The three men stood in awkward positions, no one quite sure what to do or say.

Sam glanced back at the oven, begging his baked oatmeal to be ready.

Bucky eyed Rhodey and then the coffee maker, debating how impolite it would be to go over and drink from the pot.

Rhodey glanced between the two men, who apparently lived together and called each other “sweetheart” and were most definitely not what he was expecting that morning, and felt way out of his depth.

“Am I… interrupting something?” Rhodey finally asked.

Sam sighed heavily. “Only breakfast.”

He took this as his cue to go back around the island and finish chopping up the melon. As he did so, he shot a look at Bucky.

“Buck, Rhodey here needs us to go to Italy. Are you up for it?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes ever so slightly and gave a sharp yet shallow nod.

“I’m gonna need a verbal response over here,” Sam said tiredly, and Rhodey got a feeling this wasn’t the first time that the couple had had this exchange. And they were a couple, right?

Bucky narrowed his eyes even more at Rhodey before he began to slowly edge past the visitor and into the kitchen. He didn’t blink a single time.

Sam didn’t seem the least bit bothered as he kept chopping up fruit. He offered up a piece for Bucky when he came up to his side, and the former assassin plucked it from the captain’s fingers.

Bucky kept staring at Rhodey as he lifted the piece of melon to his lips, and took a slow, methodical bite.

Rhodey closed his eyes for a long moment and took a deep breath. For the first time he was thankful for Tony’s crazy phase, it had given the man much practice in patience.

Ten seconds later, when Rhodey was thoroughly sure that he had calmed himself down, he opened his eyes.

Bucky was still staring at him.

Rhodey almost swore in his moment of surprise. What was up with this guy? Did Hydra replace his eyelids along with his arm? Did he have some kind of second eyelid? Yeah, that must be it. Bucky was part crocodile.

Sam huffed out a small laugh, albeit slightly uncomfortable. “Hey, Buck?” He said, “You can blink now.”

Bucky blinked and shook his head slightly as he tore his gaze away from Rhodey and toward Sam. He visibly softened, his face completely transforming. He wasn’t quite smiling, but it was close.

If Rhodey were a weaker man, or maybe a fangirl, he would have gone: “Awwww!”

He settled for a knowing smile.

“You two been together very long?” He asked as casually as possible.

The couple pulled their eyes away from each to look back at Rhodey, and said colonel was getting the distinct impression that they might have forgotten he was there.

“A while,” Bucky said grudgingly.

Sam rolled his eyes, smiling.

Ah, there was a story there wasn’t there?

But, alas, Rhodey decided that he’d just stick to the point. “I’m happy for you both, really.”

“Thanks, Rhodey.” Sam smiled.

Just then the timer beeped over the oven, and Sam glanced back. Finally! His baked oatmeal was ready!

Sam pulled open the oven door then reached over to his right to grab an oven mitt when Bucky came right up behind him and used his metal hand to pull out the pyrex baking dish.

A wink and smirk, and the breakfast oats were placed on the top of the stove where it could cool off.

“Not that this scene of domestic bliss isn’t adorable,” Rhodey called, “But… arms dealers? Italy? Time sensitive? The bomb threat?”

Now that sure got the pair’s attention.

“There’s a bomb threat?!”

“Why didn’t you say anything?!”

Tagging: @fanficmaniatic

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper Pt 2

Pairing: Eventual Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Length: 1.5k words

Warnings: Too many commas, some extra ‘u’s in words as I’m Canadian..., not enough time spent world building. Hope y’all got an imagination.

Notes: They meet! They meet!  (Tags at the end.)

PART ONE

The morning sun saw Frankie already awake and amidst his trees. He knew that most people thought him stubborn by wanting to run his little orchard himself. He had heard the whispers, seen the side glances, the quirked eyebrows. The odd reputation he was gaining was worth the solitude and peace he had found.

The reputation of Town Recluse was better than That Ex-Cokehead Murderer. A small part of his brain knew that he was being too hard on himself but a larger part was convinced he deserved it. 

So, he worked his penance here. Frankie nursed the trees back to fruition, his sweat and blood sacrificed to bring forth life; refusing to use pesticides or any form of agent that might harm another living thing. Deer, rabbits, mice, and bugs were the bane of a harvester’s business but Frank had decided to find joy in their presence. If he didn’t have to see another death until his own, that would still be too soon.

It had taken him three years to get anything more than a few barrels of apples. Most asked why he didn’t just cut them all down and start anew. They didn’t understand, hell he barely did, but in his soul, Frankie knew he needed to prove that he could do good. He had made his own baskets, built sheds, mended fences, and slowly built the business and a small loft for himself in the old barn.

Looking down the rows and rows of trees, Frankie was starting to get the feeling he might need help this harvest season. It wasn’t easy for him to acknowledge this but if he didn’t get at least one helping hand, more than a few bin-fulls would go to waste. Frankie decided he would put up a flyer on the notice board the next time he went to town and pray that only quiet people would apply.

The trees were his pride and joy. A variety that had been lost and forgotten until he had bought the aging orchard and a man named Tom Brown had come along asking about the fruit.

He felt at peace when he worked as it let his mind focus on the job at hand and was tired enough to slip into a deep slumber at night. Previously plagued by nightmares, long days of pruning, fixing, or working in the mill proved the cure for a dreamless sleep.

“I’m sorry, how much did you say the total was?” you asked while rapidly trying to do some math in your head. If you purchased everything you needed at the hardware store that would only leave you forty-seven dollars left in this week’s budget. And it was only Monday. “Ermm, on second thought, I don’t know if I really need the plaster and trowel just yet. I’ll just take the drywall and screws, please.”

Leaving the store, head down, you were feeling like such an ass you didn’t even notice the two older ladies watching your exit and whispering madly to each other. The owner of Hank’s Hardware, whose name was oddly Allan, kindly helped you pile the drywall into your truck box. You were too busy with the tie-downs to notice him join in on the developing whispered plot.

Unable to resist, you purchased a bouquet of sunflowers. They were your favourite and, once you mentioned that you were new in town, the sweet older gentleman selling them gave you an extra bunch for free. The bright flowers lightened your heart enough to almost, almost, make you forget your even lighter wallet. 

The laden-down truck was nearly out of town when you spotted an open-air market down a side street. It had a surprising number of booths set up and looked so welcoming that you couldn’t resist.

Slowly walking between the stalls, you smiled at each vendor and complimented their handiwork. A few you recognized and thanked for the delicious foods they had brought by when you had first moved in.

You wished you could have supported more of the vendors, you respected their ability to create and be confident enough to share their wares. Taking one last look around, your gaze was caught by a familiar logo: it was the same one you had seen scattered across your porch a few weeks ago. ‘Catfish Cider’ in bold script framing a picture of a gnarled old tree. Maybe you should buy some and have Jacquie over for a less depressing girl's night? But could you afford it, even with leaving behind some of the reno items at Hank's?

You didn’t realize how long you had been standing there staring at the display until a voice called out.

“You gonna buy something or just wanted to block off my stand?”

Whipping your head up you noticed the man standing behind the stand for the first time. His face, for the moment, set into a grimace you assumed was due to him being upset at your loitering.

“I dunno,” you fired back, annoyed by his annoyance and too tired to stop yourself from saying a bratty, “is it actually worth the money?” 

His grimace turned into eyebrow-raising shock, the tan skin of his rather attractive face reddening a shade or two with anger.

“Oh, you have such a discerning pallet to know better?”

“I- what? No! I just want to make sure I’m spending my money on something worthwhile.”

“Like flowers?” He challenged, his stance widening and arms crossing across his chest. 

You’d seen that pose too many times in the past; Brad used to tower over you posturing himself just like this asshole at the market. He liked to hover over you menacingly any time you had mustered up your courage to state an opinion or to belittle your ideas. It made you inwardly flinch, making you angry at yourself for still acting like a meek victim, and then, in a show of great maturity, you projected that anger onto the stranger who initiated the exchange.

“Like it’s any of your business!” You cried out in a shrill voice you didn’t even recognize as your own. “But yes, these flowers make me happier than anything else I’ve seen today could.”

“I’ll have you know-” he ground out, jabbing his finger at you.

“Nope!” You interrupted him, “I’m going to stop you right there. I’m done listening to men like you!” 

“Men like me? Men like ME?” He crowed, “Pray tell, what the hell do you know about men like me?”

Had you been acting like a functioning adult you might have realized that your voices were beginning to get noticeably loud. A small crowd around the two of you had stopped what they were doing to listen while also trying to look like there weren’t eavesdropping.

“I know all I need to,” you proclaimed, not quite able to stop the tremble in your voice. “and I’m not going to waste any more of my life listening to one.” With that, you sharply turned and made your way through the suddenly thick crowd of people.

Once the adrenaline from your encounter had worn off, you found yourself crying in your truck and regretting the way you had snapped. The hot guy at the stand might have been a bit brash with you but he hardly deserved you taking out all your inner turmoil on him like that.

Frankie winced again, thinking about how quickly out of hand the conversation had gotten. His remark was supposed to come out light and teasing but he was out of practice talking to people. Pretty people. People who were framed by armfuls of sunflowers, whose skin glowed in the Autumn sun, who had a ready smile for everyone she talked to. 

He had found himself craving one for himself, and when she had stopped at his booth, looking lost in thought, he silently begged for her to look up. Impatient, he just blurted out the first words that came to his head and instantly regretted even trying. His cheeks grew red from embarrassment and Frankie just stood there looking at her blankly, not sure how to salvage the situation.

Before he could open his mouth to apologize though, the woman responded with a retort of her own. While it could have been interpreted as teasing, there had been a fiery glint in her eye that had pushed his pride button. Frankie was suddenly ready to throw down or at least regale her with the accolades of his cider and how it came to be.

What a mess he had made. He had riled up the beautiful stranger to the point her voice had wavered with barely repressed emotion. Not to mention the stir he had caused in front of half the town.

Once the market quieted down and everyone was closing up shop, Greg from the stall next to his, called over, “Know who that was?”

Even though it had been over an hour since the spat, Frankie knew he was referring to the woman with the sunflowers.

“Hopefully just some Leaf Peeper, I’d hate to run into her again.”

“Oooooh I dunno,” mused Greg, “A woman with passion in her blood like that can be a boon to crusty old men like us.”

Frankie noticed the gleam in Greg’s eyes and felt an odd burning in his stomach because of it. It was not jealousy at the unbidden image of Greg and the woman together. Definitely not.

PART THREE

@rebelliouscat @pedro4ever @speakerforthedead0 @yespolkadotkitty @ilikechocolatemilkh @weirdowithnobeardo @pedro-pastel @disgruntledspacedad @a-skov 

[lovehotelreservation]

Melted Gelato

Summary: Do as the locals do: a common word of advice to those traveling abroad.

Savor the local delicacies, be mindful of one’s placement on the elevator, with plenty more.

But if there was one thing that Joseph wasn’t going to do, it was to sit back and watch Caesar attempt to whisk you off your feet during your visit to Milan.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: DFAB!Reader/Joseph

WRITING THIS I’VE ONLY RECEIVED DOUBLE THE CRAVING FOR PISTACHIO GELATO G D I

STILL IT WAS NICE TO RETURN TO SOME JJBA AFTER SO LONG!!! Thank you to @spaceispeachy for commissioning me once again~!

----------------

What wasn’t there to love about Milan?

A fashion capital steeped in history and couture with streets and boulevards lined with high end brands housed in buildings that have seen eras of time long past come and go, a fine sampling of local cuisine with the likes of risotto and cotoletta served city-wide to delight the taste buds, an impeccable showcasing of marvels in the arts within the Duomo and the entirety of the Castello Sforzesco itself.

And even so, as he neared the 6th day of his weeklong stay of Milan, what Joseph had come to realize was that he had one unshakeable issue with the city.

Namely that he had to witness Caesar shamelessly flirting with you.

On one hand, Joseph was thankful that his best friend was always present to help guide the two of you around the city during your visit from America, showing you local favorites in regards to hangout spots and food favorites, ever happy to translate and speak on your behalf.

Caesar was as wonderful of a tour guide as could be.

However.

 What kind of tour guide cheekily offers to help zip up a dress during some outfit fittings at a local boutique?!

Joseph grumpily pondered over this while he licked away at his pistachio gelato, at times biting into the cold and creamy confection and immediately regretting upon the frigid shock to his teeth--only to repeat the process as his mind drifted.

Today was to be spent at the acclaimed Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II.

As you and Joseph were to be taking off back to America soon, you were looking to pick up some souvenirs for your returning trip home.

All while Caesar was ever ready to draw out his sleek credit card, a shine in his eyes as he offered to treat you to a dress from one of the higher end boutiques.

Meanwhile, Joseph was often fumbling with his wallet since he had forgotten to convert all of his American dollar bills into Euros.

While his eyes were bulging at the price tag of a mere Gucci belt, he did have a sense of pride to slam down his colored currency onto the counter of the gelateria the three of you ended up at after your shopping excursion, a big wide grin planted on his face when he happily turned to ask for your choice in flavor.

Only to witness Caesar already ordering on your behalf with absolute smooth suavity.

Seeing that enthralled look on your face had Joseph ordering another extra scoop of gelato for himself with gritted teeth.

Which, once again, he found himself biting into.

After all, he had his eye on you for some time now.

While he was always welcoming to the company of a beauty by his side, there was something about you that was genuinely so special and captivating.

It was hard for him to even begin to think of how to put what he felt into words, but never had someone ignited his yearning to give his heart to another, to protect and keep safe from harm.

But while his feelings were earnest, the shaky foundation of his eloquence, clumsy and oafish, left much to be desired.

So unlike someone as experienced with romance such as Caesar.

As he lamented while hurriedly rubbing his tongue along his frigid molars, his eyes blinked when he heard a sudden squeak from the back end of the shop.

And it was then that his gaze shifted to where you were seated.

Namely with a small yet notable spoonful of gelato that had fallen right at your exposed décolletage.

While he was ready to tease at your predicament before offering to wipe you up, Caesar had the first say.

“Ah signorina…” He began, his eyes softening much like his tone.

Only for his voice to take on a flirtatious shift as he hummed, “I cannot allow for your pretty clothes to be stained.” It was then that he stood, extending his hand out to you while the other continued to hold his gelato. “Come--please allow me to help you clean up.”

A glint reflected off of his eyes as he purred, “Or I can dirty you further if you so wish~”

Joseph’s eyes narrowed as his plastic gelato spoon snapped

“Okay that’s it!--”

You didn’t know how Joseph appeared so quickly to where you and Caesar were sitting.

Your expression was surprised, furthered all the more by what immediately transpired.

“JoJo, you bastard buffoon! This suit costs more than your life!”

Caesar was aghast from the sudden chill of pistachio gelato being slammed right onto his chest, staining the front of his suit.

Joseph was snickering.

Even more so upon hoisting you into his arms and hauling you away in a hurry.

“Hope you got insurance on it then, Caesarino! We’ll see you at the hotel!”

And while Caesar was certainly looking forward to personally throwing Joseph into the waters of Lake Como, as he watched the two of you depart, he could only shake his head, a small grin tugging at his lips.

“About damn time, JoJo.”

Upon waking up in your hotel room this morning, you expected a fun day out for shopping, an endeavor that would have you continuing to bask in the splendor of Milan.

But what you didn’t expect was an early return.

Nor the pressure of Joseph’s lips as they remained firmly planted right on yours.

A door was kicked, the hurried rush of footsteps on the floor, your body suddenly landing on the surface of his bed in a sprawl.

The dress that served to be the catalyst of why you currently had Joseph right on top of you was soon no more by the tear of his clawing hands, his palms eager to palm at your breasts and squeeze your ass.

When he wasn’t kissing you, that mouth of his, ever so loud but ever so good when they possessed yours, was in a ramble, thoughts blurted out from his mouth with no restraint even more than usual.

“Oi, I know I’m occasionally dumb with certain stuff--” Joseph huffed while heaving off his shirt, revealing sculpted solid muscle that you dreamt to caress for so long. “--but even I could see what that No Good Caesar was up to!”

His friend’s cheeky suggestion from earlier crossed his mind, causing him to grunt in frustration right as his green eyes caught sight of your bare neck, a certain primal need beginning to rear its head within him.

Teeth gritting together, he declared with utter absolution, “Damn Caesar, always going on how your appearance is meant to significantize this or that--I’m gonna show him that you’re all mine!”

You would have said something about his word choice just then, but you couldn’t voice out your inquiries.

Not while you had his lips planting wherever they could on your neck, suckling hungrily as he remained determined to leave his claim on you for anyone and all to see.

Though his touch was inelegant and nowhere near as polished as Caesar’s, it was by his uncouth earnestness that had you squirming beneath him from the way he groped your breasts with need, to leaving your core sensitive and drooling by the swift and sloppy strokes of his tongue.

He was just so relentless, the base need to show his feelings for you in full control, as demonstrated by the commanding grip on your waist while he had you seated on his lap, having you bounce on his cock as he pounded up into you with unrestrained fervor, his mouth and tongue eager to have their fill of the taste of your skin, leaving even more marks along your décolletage and nursing from your nipples.

Pulling away from a mouthful of your breast, Joseph groaned as he felt his orgasm begin to approach, not helped by the hot and wet slick grip your core had around his dick as he called out your name, his vibrant green eyes staring right into yours. “It ain’t flowers and candlelights, but that can come later, okay...!” 

His hands transferred from your waist to your ass yet again, groping firmly while his mouth trailed to your neck to leave yet another mark as he groaned out, “This is how I feel about you, you know!”

Your body shuddered, beyond just the pleasure that he was giving you, but from him confessing what you wanted to hear for so long. 

Joyously, you cried out, “I know Joseph--and I couldn’t be happier!”

Joseph stilled.

And then he groaned.

That was it.

With the roar of your name, he slammed his dick into your core more and more until the two of you came, his seed flooding inside you while you milked him down for every drop, his mouth seeking out yours before the two of you plummeted together onto the bed, the rest of the day to be spent blissfully entangled.

While there was plenty to love about Milan, there were countless reasons that the two of you loved about each other.

[fanfics4all]

Unknown Weasley

Request: Yes / No  Maybe a Draco Malfoy X Weasley Fem Reader..? Y/N got put into Slytherin (Ginny’s twin) and never really fit the Weasley stereotype. Her family kinda forgot/neglected her and favored Ginny. Then they find out Y/N is dating Draco and they flip and she lashes out at them. A LOT of angst please, tyyyyy 💚🖤 Anon

Requests are open <3 Have a nice day/night

Draco Malfoy x Fem!Weasley!Reader

Word count: 2317

Warnings: Kind of abuse in a way 

Y/N: Your Name 

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

When I watched my older brother’s go off to Hogwarts I was so jealous. They got to go off and not be stuck at home being forgotten. I was stuck home being overshadowed by my twin sister Ginny. She was the favorite of the family and everyone always forgot that I was even alive. It was horrible. But when the time finally came to go to Hogwarts I was so excited. This was going to be my time to no longer be forgotten. Ginny got called up before me and she was placed in Gryffindor like all of our family. Then I was called up and the hat was placed on my head. 

“Another Weasley, but you’re different from the rest. Where to put you…” It thought for a moment. 

“I know… Slytherin!” It shouted and my eyes widened. I looked at my family and they had the same shocked expression on their faces. I got off the stool and walked over to the Slytherin table with my head hung low. Some people at the table were whispering about me. 

“Isn’t she a Weasley?” 

“Shouldn’t she be put in Gryffindor like the rest of her pathetic family?” 

“What is wrong with her?” I tried my best to ignore them, but I couldn’t. They were right. Great now my family will remember me, but as the disappointment… 

The first year I just kept my head down and didn’t bother with anyone. It didn’t feel that much different than at home. Ginny had obviously told our parents that I was in Slytherin and they were so unhappy they didn’t want me coming home until school was over. When I got home, boy did I get an earful. 

“How the bloody hell could you be a Slytherin!?” My Mother shouted. 

“I didn’t choose to be in Slytherin!” I cried. 

“I bet she did, she’s never been like us.” Ron said and I narrowed my eyes at him. 

“Go to your room, no supper for you!” Mother shouted and I ran up the stairs. I got shoved into the attic and that’s been my room ever since. I threw myself onto my bed and cried my eyes out, until I fell asleep. 

That’s how the summer went pretty much. My house would be brought up a few times a week and then I would be sent to my room with no food. I hated it. Everything just got so much worse and there was nothing I could do to fix it… 

When it was time to return to Hogwarts I was shocked that my parents actually made an effort to remember to take me back. I walked onto the train and found an empty compartment. I decided that I would get a head start on studying and so I took out my old books and got to reading one. Everything was fine until the train started moving and someone opened the door to my compartment. 

“What are you doing here?” The voice of Draco Malfoy filled my ears. I looked up to see the platinum blonde boy with silver eyes. 

“Um, sitting and studying?” I answered with furrowed brows. 

“Shouldn’t you be with your pathetic blood-traitor family?” He asked with a sneer and I rolled my eyes. 

“No, they’re not happy with me.” I answered, looking back down to my book. 

“Because you’ve ruined their perfect Gryffindor line?” He asked with a laugh. 

“Yes actually, so unless you’re going to actually sit in here during the ride, I suggest you fuck off.” I answered without looking up from my book. There was silence and I heard the door close. What I wasn’t expecting was Draco sitting next to me. I glanced up and he was staring at me. 

“Can I help you?” I asked. 

“Your family is honestly upset with you because of the house you’re in?” He asked and I nodded with a sigh. 

“Believe it or not this is the most attention I’ve gotten from them.” I said and his eyes wided. 

“Really? I thought they loved all their children.” He said and I shook my head. 

“No, well I don’t know if they don’t love me, but they certainly don’t like me.” I said. 

“I know what that’s like…” He whispered. 

“What?” I asked and he looked up at me. 

“My Father is quite strict with me and honestly it seems like he doesn’t love me sometimes.” He answered. I closed my book and placed my hand on his. 

“I’m sorry Draco, no one deserves that.” I said and to my shock he didn’t pull away. 

“You don’t either.” He said and I smiled. For the first time in my life I felt happy and like I was seen. The whole train ride Draco and I kept talking about what we were interested in, what we were excited about this year, and about possibly going to Hogsmeade together. Draco even bought me a few of my favorite sweets. I was shocked that the person that was so mean to my family and their friends was being so kind to me. But we understood each other. We were each in similar situations and that seemed to be bonding us. 

I thought that when we finally made it to Hogwarts Draco would go back to ignoring me and making fun of me like everyone else does, but to my surprise he didn’t. Draco actually pulled me to sit next to him and introduced me to some of his friends. They were shocked that him of all people was socializing with a Weasley, but he quickly shut them down. Lucky for me my family seemed to be ignoring what I was doing which meant my parents wouldn’t have another reason to be disappointed in me. 

Throughout that year I started falling for Draco and when the trip to Hogsmeade came around Draco had actually asked if we could consider it a date instead. I obviously agreed and it was perfect. Draco was the perfect gentleman and insisted on buying me whatever I pleased. We first went into Dominic Maestro’s Music Shop and looked around. That’s where we each learned our music taste. Then we went to Honeydukes where Draco spoiled me with my favorite candies. Draco wanted to go into Spintwitches Sporting Needs and he got new gloves for Quidditch. 

“Maybe you could come see the game against Gryffindor this Friday?” He asked and I smiled. 

“I’d love to, only if you promise me that we’ll win.” I said with a smirk. 

“Of course love, I’ll make sure to work extra hard for you.” He said and I blushed at the nickname he gave me. 

“You’re cute when you blush.” He whispered and I blushed harder. He grabbed my hand as we exited the shop. 

“Hungry?” He asked and I nodded, not trusting my voice just yet. 

“How about The Three Broomsticks?” He asked.

“As long as we can get Butterbeer.” I said with a smirk.

“Whatever you want love.” He said and pulled me along with him. We each sat down and quickly ordered Butterbeers.

“What do you want, love?” He asked. 

“Hmmm, I think I might order the shepherd’s pie.” I said looking over the menu. 

“You have good taste.” He said with a smirk. 

“Obviously.” I said and flipped my hair with a giggle. He chuckled and moved closer to me. 

“You are so beautiful.” He said and I blushed hard. 

“Would you do me the pleasure of being my girlfriend?” He asked and I stared at him in shock. 

“Y-You want me to be your girlfriend? But you could have literally any girl in Hogwarts!” I said and he chuckled. 

“And you’re the one I want.” He said and I smiled. Out of all the girls in Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy wants me. 

“Then I would love to.” I said. Draco’s smile widened and he placed his arm around my shoulder. Our Butterbeers arrived and we each ordered. 

The date went perfect and Draco didn’t want to be shy about our new relationship. He wanted everyone to know that I was now his girl, but I was worried about my family. I convinced him to keep it a secret, but he definitely took risks. When we had off periods together he would pull me into an empty hallway and kiss me wherever he could. 

“Draco we’re gonna get caught one day!” I whispered. 

“And today won’t be that day, trust me love.” He said and went back to kissing my neck. I bit my lip to hold back a moan and he smirked against my skin. 

“Y/N? What in Merlin!?” I heard my sister shout and my eyes widened. I pushed Draco off and we both stared at her. 

“Um… I-” I didn’t know what to say. 

“What are you doing to my sister?” She growled at Draco. He looked at me and I was just standing there in shock. 

“If you must know, I’m kissing my girlfriend.” He answered and pulled me closer to him. 

“What?” She growled, this time looking at me. 

“You’re dating this git!” She shouted. 

“He’s not a git!” I said snapping out of my shock. 

“Have you gone mad?” She asked. 

“No, I’m perfectly sane! Just go on and tell the family about it already.” I said and turned my back to her. 

“Unbelievable…” I heard her say under her breath as she walked off. 

“Are you alright, love?” Draco asked and placed his hand on my arm. 

“I’m fine… They were bound to find out anyway…” I said quietly, but I could feel tears pooling in my eyes. 

“Hey, I know you’re hurt.” He said, walking in front of me and lifted my chin up. 

“It’s alright, love, I’ll be here for you always.” He said and pulled me into his chest. 

“I love you Y/N.” He whispered and I clung to him. 

“I love you too Draco.” I said. 

Throughout the rest of the year Draco and I had become public with our relationship. My brothers and sister sent glares my way and refused to even speak one word to me. Draco was always trying to take my mind off it and keep the smile he gave me on my face. But when it was time to go back home Draco tried to convince me to come home with him. I told him I couldn’t and that I needed to face this. So when my parents picked us up it was dead silent. But as soon as we all entered the house my parents turned to me with the worst expression they’ve ever given me. 

“You are dating Draco Malfoy?” My Father asked. 

“Yes.” I answered. 

“Are you mad? His family is evil!” My Mother said. 

“But-” 

“This is unbelievable, our sister is dating the biggest git in the school!” George said. 

“Maybe he spelled her.” Fred said. 

“With the way I found them, she was most definitely not spelled.” Ginny said. 

“Honestly, after everything he’s said and done to us and you still picked to date him?” 

“Stop it!” I shouted and everyone looked at me. 

“Stop talking about him like that! Draco has been nothing but a gentleman to me! He’s been better to me in this short time than any of you have ever been to me! For the first time in my life I don’t feel like I’m not good enough, or like no one can see me! Draco is the first person to actually see me for me and not just another Weasley! He makes me feel special and like I’m not just in the background!” I shouted and all they did was stare at me. I didn’t wait for their response. I stormed out of the house and ran. Draco had gotten me a ticket for the tub in case I needed to come see him. That’s exactly what I did. I ran up to the large door of Malfoy Manor. I knocked on the door and a house-elf answered. 

“How can I help you Miss?” He asked. 

“Is Draco Malfoy here?” I asked as I fiddled with my hands. 

“Yes, let me go get the Master.” He said and let me inside. I stood in the foyer and awkwardly waited for Draco to appear. 

“Y/N?” Draco asked and I looked up at the top of the stairs. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, rushing down. 

“I’m fine, but I had a fight with my family…” I said. He pulled me to him and kissed my head. 

“I’m sorry, love.” He whispered. Tears started falling and I didn’t even know I was holding them back. 

“You can stay here, my Father can have people get your things.” He said. 

“Are you sure they’ll be alright with me staying here?” I asked and he smiled. 

“You’re a Pure-blood so I’m sure they’ll be happy with that.” He answered and I cracked a smile. 

“Come, let me introduce you.” He said and pulled me through his house. 

“Draco, who was at the door?” His Mother asked without looking up from her book. 

“My girlfriend.” He answered and both his parents moved their attention to us. 

“A Weasley?” His Father said. 

“This is Y/N Weasley, her and her family had a fight because she’s in Slytherin and dating me.” He said and they both raised their brows. 

“You were placed in Slytherin?” His Father asked. 

“Yes sir, my family was very unhappy with me.” I answered. 

“You poor dear.” His Mother said. 

“Can she stay with us this summer?” Draco asked. 

“A Weas-”

“Of course dear, but she stays in one of the guests rooms.” His Mother answered, cutting off her husband. 

“Thank you. Come on Y/N, I’ll show you to your room.” Draco said with a smile and pulled me along. Maybe this will also be the first good summer I have. 

Tag list: @les-bio-lie​ @tashy-bear​ @ashwarren32​ @hollie-blogs​ @schisbro87​ @lover-of-books-and-teas​ @nerdygaloresposts​ @teenwolfbitches2​ @genius2050​ @drw0301bieber​ @softgamerking​ @lady-of-lies​ @ravenmoore14​ @ravenempress101​ @cillianchamp​ @rowanthomasknapp​ @in-slytherin-we-trust​  @dracoswhvre​

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

A NEW EXPERIENCE

Prompt: You and Roman have been together for 7 years now,and on the night of your 5th year wedding anniversary,you have a new way to demonstrate your love for him

Word count: Uh girl,grab a snack ‘cuz this one is long!

Pairing: Roman Reigns x Reader

Warnings: +18 smut,cursing,slight self-degradation,fluff(at the end),a lot of intimacy and Tantric Massage(yes,you’ve heard it right 😉)

A little disclaimer,before we continue: Tantra is a middle eastern (more precisely Indian) philosophy and spiritual path,the tantric massage itself is a wonderful experience that DOES NOT involves any sort of sexual interaction such as penetration or masturbation!Yes it does involve yoni/lingam massage(vagina/penis massage) but the whole goal of it it’s not orgasm/ejaculation.It can happen of course,’cuz we’re humans but if it can it has to be delayed/controlled since that’s not a goal to be reached,it’s a full body experience and a deeper self connection and healing journey.So if someday you reach out a PROFESSIONAL for this especific massage,keep all this things in mind,please.The only reason I’ve included sex on this it’s because the characters in this story are married and got carried away(also because,it’s Roman I mean,who wouldn’t?). Also they don’t live the Tantra as a philosophy or spiritual path at all! It’s just a new way of working they intimacy together as a couple.It is NOT my intention to degrade ANY form of philosophy/spiritual path from anyone’s beliefs,this is for entertainment purposes only,and also a new way for me to write about new/different themes(or personal study topics of mine) for my stories. I have a deep love for middle eastern cultures and an even deeper love for studying different types of philosophy/spiritual paths.

Tag: My soul sister @ziasaph

Notes: Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.

Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

Today’s my 5th year wedding anniversary with my lovely husband,Roman.We’ve been together for 7 years now.The first time I met him,I gotta say, I hated him! There was something about him that screamed trouble.He was too good to be true,I mean,he was incredibly handsome,polite,thoughtful,kind,loving,funny,intelligent,respectful(a true gentleman really),the best kiss I’ve ever had and don’t even get me started on this man’s bedroom skills...No man ever fucked me like that,no man ever cared much more about my pleasure than with he’s own,no man could make me feel like a goddess the way he could..you see what I mean?He couldn’t be an honest good man right?!And I knew better!Oh I really did..I’ve always had a “rotten finger” when it came to my men choices.If you putted me in a room with two guys,a truly good man and a shitty asshole,I would’ve had 100% chose the latter.Maybe for the “fun” of it or even just to prove my Freudian fate,who knows?

But when I decided to finally give in to the Samoan’s charm and accepted to finally officially date him,I discovered why he smelled like trouble,because as soon as I found out I was in love with him I knew I had lost my whole heart to that man!And if you came from a emocional troubled background,like I did,you know that that’s the worst case scenario one could ever have.But funny enough,despite my deepest fears,he changed my whole world,he dragged me out of the shit pit I’ve always lived in and pushed me into the light beside him,making me forget everything bad that ever happened to me,transforming my reality into the fairytale I could never had imagined.If you told me,7 years ago,that right now I would be here telling you this same story,I would have have bitterly laughed at your face and asked you to give me a hit of whatever it is that you had.

But here I am,finishing to set up one of our guests room for the surprise I had in mind for my husband.I’m sure that this will never repay him for the way he always made me feel,but at least I hope he can have a bit of a glimpse of how much I truly love and care for him.

I was lighting up the last pair of candles when I heard the front door open,his deep sigh and the loud thump of his bags dropping on the living room floor.

“Y/N,baby girl? You home?” That voice alone could bring the biggest,truthful smile upon my lips.I put the lighter on my jacket’s pocket,carefully closing the guest room door and I ran downstairs to meet my redemption in form of a man.

“Roman!” I squealed while I preceded to jump on his arms and wrap my legs around his waist,kissing him like I would never see him again.

“Wow!” He chuckled “I see someone missed me those 3 weeks,huh?!” Still laughing,he wrapped his big arms around my waist and retributed my kiss vigorously.

“Of course I missed you baby!You’re my Samoan Prince Charming,how could I not miss that?!”I laughed.

“Prince Charming,huh?!”He chuckled “You wait ‘til you see what I wanna do to you...I’m pretty sure you’re gonna change your mind from prince charming to tramp real quick!”He smirks and I can already feel my panties getting damp with excitement.

“Oh really,big guy?! Well I’m sorry,but I’m about to piss in your yard and ruin your dreams!’Cuz I already have a surprise for you,and that took a lot of prep time too,so as much as I would love to see what you have in mind that will have to wait,at least ‘til later.”

“Piss in my yard?!Oh baby girl,always so delicate with your words!”He laughed

“What? I’m expressive,you know that!Also if anyone here is the well mannered,polite and posh one that’s you,I’m just you know,rough street trash”.I bitterly said

“Hey!Don’t say that,please.You know that I don’t like when you degradate yourself like that.You’re not trash,you’re my everything!And let’s be honest here baby, I love your rough side..”He squeezed my ass,to prove his point.

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna get all worked up,and you’re going to ruin my surprise...” I whispered

“Ok,ok.I stopped!”He chuckled,then gave me a light peck on the lips before lowering me down to the ground.”So what do you have planned?”

“You know it’s called surprise for a reason right?!”I said.

“Oh c’mon Y/N! Not even a little preview baby?” He gave me those beautiful puppy eyes,and the bastard knew that I would give in.

“Argh,you’re the worst!”I faked an annoyed face,but he knew I was pretending so he just smiled and I couldn’t help but smile back.”Ok the only,ONLY thing I will tell you is that it involves a large amount of intimacy..I’ve never done that to anyone before..and it’s an incredible experience.That’s all I’m saying!”I proudly huffed.He stared at my face for an eternity before he slowly smirked at me saying “You do realize that you said you were going to tell me just ONE thing about it,but you ended up telling me THREE instead,right?!” He started laughing when I poked his broad chest saying “Shut up! You know,you’re lucky I love you,because otherwise I would just kick your ass right now.”I tried to hold back my laugh,but that soon was forgotten when he kissed my lips so slowly and sweet and said “I don’t have a doubt you could kiss my ass at anytime baby.” He lazily smiled at me,before his expression turned more serious. “I love you Y/N so fucking much!” He caresses my face before continuing “I’m so happy I could take a few days off to be with you,to celebrate the 7 years we’ve been together..and the many more years yet to come” He pecked my lips lightly “I could never have asked for a better woman,wife,best friend,lover,supporter..my own personal safe harbor.” He shyly smiled at me and pressed our foreheads together,and I couldn’t help the tears escaping through my eyes.

“Oh baby girl, I didn’t meant to make you cry!” He said

“Those are happy tears I promise!” I sighed “Besides,I feel bad that I can’t say such beautiful things to you,I’m sorry baby,that you got the product made with a broken mold” I sadly sighed.

“Hey,I already told you to stop saying those bad things about yourself! Also you don’t have to apologize,I know everything you went through and it’s normal for someone in your position to be a little careful when showing your fellings,and trust me babe, I don’t need your words to know that you love me,your actions already do the job!” The smile he gave me was so sincere that reached his eyes.And I really hope that my actions tonight will prove his statement to be right.

“So,when do you plan on giving me my surprise?” He asked with a sparkle in his eyes.And I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Well the first thing I need to know is if you’re already fed?”

“Yep! I stopped by a cafe on my way home and ate something light,like you asked me to”. He responded

“Good!Now I’m gonna need you to take a shower so you can wash away the tiredness of your flight,towel yourself dry,but don’t put any clothes on I’m gonna need you naked for this.” He maliciously smirked at me.

“You need me naked,huh?” He licked his lips “Ok,sounds like a great surprise so far..”

“Yes it is! And if I were you, I would hurry up..”

With that he ran off to the bathroom like a little boy,and a few seconds later I could hear the water running.

As soon as I finished stripping the last piece of clothing off my body,I heard the bathroom door open and Roman call for me.

“I’m in the guest room.The one near the stairs.” A few seconds later, I see him entering the room.

“Wow,this looks beautiful!” Since we never used that room as a guest room,it didn’t had a bed(which helped a lot) I just cleaned the hardwood floor,placed a big extra thick(about 40mm) yoga exercise mat in the center of the room,a lot of candles(some were sandalwood scented,but not many,so it doesn’t get too nauseating.Just enough to give that relaxing feeling),some rose petals around the floor, a few cozy cushions around the yoga mat and a little low table with one massage candle and a large thermical water bottle(to keep the water cold and fresh).It wasn’t much but it did look cozy and spa like.

“Did you like it?”

“If I like it?Baby girl it’s perfect!”Then he looked at my naked body and added “Perfect indeed” as he slowly lowered down to catch my lips in the most romantic kiss. When I broke the kiss(‘cuz if it was for him,we would stay there for hours) I begin to explain to him what my surprise was.

“I was thinking what I could give you for our 5th year anniversary that wasn’t bought from a store,but had more of a deep sentimental value” He slowly nodded

“I was talking to Sarah and she told me that Lisa,her new girlfriend is a Tantric massage therapist and had given her a tantric massage one day,she said it was the best experience she’s ever had.So I got curious and decided to make an appointment with her and babe” I sighed “I’ve never had in my life,such an amazing experience! The feeling is...I can’t describe,you have to feel it to understand it. My point is,Lisa told me that tantric massage can be used by couples as a form of bonding,like a deeper connection. It can be used to strengthen they’re intimacy.” When I saw the confused look on his face I said

“What I’m trying to say is that I love you so much” He smiles “I love you too baby girl” I smiled back,continuing my explanation “And I know that you’re the best man I could’ve ever had asked for myself!Even too good for me,but my point is that,it makes me upset that I don’t tell you as often as I would like to how much you mean to me,so I asked Lisa for some advice on how to perform a tantric massage on you and thought that,maybe it would be a nice way to show you how I truly feel,through this” I pointed out to the set up in front of us,smiling shyly.

“I-I..baby girl, I don’t even know what to say...This is all so beautiful, I mean, you didn’t need to make all this to show me that you care or love me babe,I know that regardless” he touched my face softly and quickly added “But that doesn’t mean I’m not curious about your surprise..In fact I’m quite excited to see what this is all about” He has a evil sparkle on his eyes and we both couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ok big dog,I gonna need you to lay down on your stomach for me,okay?”

He smiled and did as I asked.

I kneeled down on one of the cushions beside the yoga mat and said

“Alright baby,now,I need you to close your eyes,relax and just focus on my touch upon your skin ok?” When he nodded I grabbed the massage candle and started by dripping some of the wax into his ankles and calves,lightly spreading the melted wax up,until it reaches his back thighs.

I remembered that Lisa told me that this should not be a relaxing massage,in the sense of quizzing in the muscles to bring relief,but it was more focused on the touch it self,so I had to keep a very lightweight touch and make sure that only my finger tips(and occasionally my finger nails if I wanted to) touched his skin lightly.

When I reached his back thighs I notice Roman shifting his weight ever so slightly.

*Oh thank God,I’m doing this right!* I thought to myself relieved.

I dripped more wax,now,onto his perfect round ass and lower back.As I begin working out the wax and spreading it I heard a deep,low,almost inaudible,growl leave his lips and I couldn’t help but smile to myself.I let my finger nails just lightly roam his ass,lower back and side hips.I was so lost in the action that I was caught by surprise when a loud moan left Roman’s lips.

“Y/N..”

I grabbed the candle again and repeated the same process but now on his middle and upper back,shoulders,in the back of his arms and forearms,the palm of his hands,his fingers,neck and ears.

When I reached his head,I lightly dive my finger tips through his hair so I could reach his scalp and begin lightly massaging it,as if I was washing his hair,when I very lightly scratched his scalp I heard a very familiar sound

“Mmmmm fuck,oh shit...Mmmmm”

*Hold on..did he just? Oh I know THAT sound,I think he came!* I thought to myself

I lightly tapped his shoulder twice(a sign for him to turn onto his back) and when he did I could see that I was right,as there were evidences of his cum not only on his stomach but also on the yoga mat,and his deliciously thick erection resting on his belly.

I placed a cushion under his hips and one under the back of his head before I repeated the same previous actions.Starting from the soles of his feet,working my way up his shin,knees,thighs,lower abdomen,hips,abdomen,ribs,chest,nipples,side of the neck,face,front shoulders,biceps,forearm and the front of his hands.

Once I got up and placed myself on the mat,between his legs, I looked at him and I could swear that in 7 years,I’ve never seen that man with such a wild,primal,raw,luscious look on his face.

“Ro?”

“Hm?” I’ve never heard his voice so rough before

“We’re going to the last step now,ok?”

“Mhmm” was all he answered with his gaze glued to my face

I dripped some wax onto my hands and rub them together to spread it.

I took his length into my left hand,lightly squeezed the base of his cock and started to pull my hand up towards the head until my hand slides off,just so I could grabbed it with my right hand and repeat the same steps.

“Oh my fucking God” He rolled his eyes to the back of his head “ Sweet fucking Christ,Oohhh fuuuck” He moaned with a raspy voice.

I took the opportunity to massage the head of his cock in a orange juicer motion.

“Argh” He deeply growled,snapped his eyes open and look at me with a deadly look on his face “Fuck me Y/N! I need you to fuck me right now! Come here and ride me nice and hard baby”

“But Roman,I’m not done ye-“

“I don’t give a fuck!” He gritted “I need you,and I need you right now! Just come here,and put my cock inside that sweet tight pussy baby” He smirked in an almost demonic way and I immediately straddle his hips.

Once I lined his cock to my entrance he quickly thrusted inside of me,making me gasp.

While he gave sometime to adjust he said

“Oh it feels good to be home!” He chuckled

“Baby girl, I don’t know what you did or how,but we’re definitely gonna be doing this more often!” He smiled deviously before he holded my hips in place so he could fuck me like a maniac.

“Oh Ro,fuck”

I’ve never felt him so thick,so deep and so hard inside of me.He was fucking me at a pace so brutal that it was almost deliciously painful.

He grabbed my wrists from his chest and rapidly tugged me down so our chests were glued to each other’s,he took the opportunity to ferociously kiss my lips while he preceded to fuck me brutally.

“Ro,baby,I’m gonna-“

I couldn’t even finish my sentence,because my orgasm hit me so hard that I couldn’t even breathe properly.

“Oh fuck me baby! So fucking tight...so warm...” He gritted “So insanely wet”

With that I could feel his cock throbbing and the hot spurts of his cum inside of me.

When he released his last spurt,we look at each other’s eyes and shared the most passionate loving kiss.When we broke the kiss I said

“I love you Ro,so much”

“With your heart,body and soul?” He lightly smiled,remembering his own words said to me on our wedding vows.

I smiled back before answering without a doubt

“With all of my heart,my whole body and my only soul”

And it was in that moment that I knew I couldn’t have picked a better surprise for the owner and of my heart,body and soul.

[plaidbooks]

Could you do an imagine of having a fling with Carisi and getting pregnant?

Fling

A/N: Hey Anon! Heck yes I can do that! Remember peeps, if you’re gonna  have a ONS, be safe about it! Hope you enjoy

Tags: alcohol and bad decisions, mentions of smut, mentions of vomiting

Words: 1726

Taglist: @the-baby-bookworm @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @reading--mermaid @averyhotchner @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles

It had been…a long day. You were the owner of a coffee shop that doubled as a bookstore, and three employees had up and quit on you. You had scrambled to find replacements, and while the new kids were working out well, they were still new, and needed a lot of handholding. So, on Saturday night, with the shop closed on Sundays, you went to the bar, hoping to just drink until you could forget about your worries for a little bit. What you weren’t expecting was for the ridiculously cute man, his suit jacket over the back of his chair and his sleeves rolled up, to buy you a drink. You were already pretty drunk, your inhibitions low, so you chatted with the stranger, who also seemed pretty far gone.

“Why don’t we take this party back to my place?” you eventually asked, and he agreed, a lopsided smirk on his face, his bright blue eyes clouded with alcohol.

In the back of the cab, you had drunkenly kissed him, and he kissed you back, both of you exploring each other’s bodies with your hands. Pulling up at your place, you dragged him inside. Once the door was closed, he had pushed you up against the wall, his mouth biting and sucking at your neck. You grabbed at his gelled hair, pulling soft groans from him as he marked you. You both eventually made it to the bedroom, naked, and you pulled him on top of you as you collapsed onto the bed.

“Fuck me—give me all you got,” you purred at him, and he growled, shoving himself into you roughly. You moaned as he thrusted into you hard and deep. When you came, clenching around him, he was right behind you, spilling his release deep within you. You passed out soon after that, his arms draped over you.

 *******************

When you awoke, the man was already gone, leaving no trace of himself behind, except the marks on your neck and a small, handwritten note on your bedside table.

Last night was incredible. Sorry I left so quickly—I had work. Maybe we can do dinner sometime? – Sonny

He had written his number after his name, and while the sex—from what you remembered—was great, you really didn’t want a relationship right now. It was just a fling, a one-night stand. So, you crumpled up his note and threw it away before getting in the shower.

 ******************

The new employees were finally settling in, and life was getting back to normal. Though, you were still stressed with everything going on—it was the summer months, which meant tourists, which meant business. And while you were grateful for the profits you were bringing in, you really needed to hire on some extra help. You vaguely noticed that your period was late, but that was probably from the stress—it had happened before. Besides, you didn’t remember when you had it last month, so you weren’t positive how late you were, really.

You decided to sleep early that night—you had so many interviews the next day. So, setting an alarm for 6am, you went to bed, hoping for a full night’s sleep. But you tossed and turned all night, your stomach killing you. At 3am, you got up, sprinting to your bathroom, barely making it before you puked your guts out. Oh God, you could not afford to be sick at a time like this. You couldn’t sleep after that, still feeling nauseous, and vomiting once more after eating a light breakfast. Groaning in pain, you sent a mass message to all your potential employees, asking for them to please reschedule, and then you called your doctor.

“When was the last time you had your period?” she had asked, running an ultrasound.

You shook your head. “I don’t know, last month? I’ve been…too busy. I honestly don’t remember….”

She put the machine down, letting the nurse start disinfecting it. She gave you a small smile. “Well, you’re pregnant.”

“I-what? But…but I haven’t had…” you trailed off, remembering the drunken night in the bar, the man you had taken home. You didn’t even remember his name, let alone the phone number he had scrawled underneath his message. And that was weeks ago! That paper was long gone.

The doctor nodded knowingly. “You’re about six weeks along. Come back to the examination room; I’ll give you pamphlets, answer any questions you have.” You nodded, hopping of the ultrasound table, being extra careful now—you had life inside you!

 ****************

The doctor had talked for you for upwards of an hour; you wanted to keep the baby, that was definite. But how would you make time for it? Pay for it? You were so conflicted, so incredibly happy yet so incredibly stressed, lost. You had family you could talk to, and you were sure they’d help you, too. But you were going to be a single mother. You struggled to remember the man’s name; it was something light and fun. Benny? Sammy? That wasn’t right. You didn’t even know what he did for a living; hell, you vaguely remembered what he looked like. Gelled hair, tall, blue eyes.

And besides, what was the point of finding him? Did you think he’d want to be apart of this? Or would he laugh in your face and run, determined to not have to pay child support? Giving up on the idea, you decided to just do this on your own—outside help from family and nurses, of course.

 ***************

Six months later, you were well into your pregnancy, your belly swelling in front of you. Jury summons clutched in your hand, you waddled your way into the courthouse. You couldn’t be a juror at this time, but when you had tried to call the number on the paper, it kept saying disconnected. So now, here you were, pissed and exhausted, making your way to whoever could postpone your summons until after you gave birth.

“Here, lemme get that door for you,” a man’s voice said. He rushed in front of you, holding the door open and you froze, staring at him. He furrowed his brow at you, scanning your face in confusion—not because you had stopped moving, but because there was the faintest hint of recognition. “Have we, uh, have we met before?” he asked.

Gelled hair, tall, blue eyes. He was obviously a lawyer, coming to work. But how were you going to bring this up to him? “Ah, no, sorry sir. Thank you for the door,” you muttered, shuffling past him.

He watched you walk by him, then fell into step next to you, easily keeping pace with his long legs. “Are you sure? You look so familiar….”

“Positive. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find where I can postpone my jury summons,” you replied, your voice flat.

He stopped in his tracks, letting you walk away, and you let out a sigh. But you didn’t make it far before he shouted, “wait!” He jogged after you, catching up quickly. He grabbed your elbow, leading you away from the crowded hall. He dropped his voice. “Did we…meet at a bar? This would’ve been months ago—I understand if you’ve forgotten me.”

He really didn’t get it, did he? “Yes, we did.”

The man nodded, his forehead crinkled as he thought. “I’m not gonna lie; I was a little sad when you didn’t call,” he joked. “But I’m glad to see you’re doing well, and that you found someone.”

His smile was so genuine, so sincere…he really didn’t get it! He figured you didn’t like him, that you had found someone else, settled down. “Uh, thanks. I’m still painfully single though,” you replied, forcing a smile.

You turned to walk away, leaving him stunned. Following the signs, you quickly found your way to the window you needed, negotiating a new date in another six months for your jury duty. Having that taken care of, you made your way out of the bowels of the courthouse. You had almost made it to the front doors when the man from the bar had tracked you down once more.

“Hey, sorry to bother you, but I-I have to know….” His voice dropped to a whisper, “is it…mine?” His bright blue eyes flickered to your belly, then back to your face.

You could’ve said no, denied it and spared him. But something must have shown on your face, because his eyes filled with such sadness, such regret.  So, you had no choice but to say, “yes, it’s yours.”

He took a shuttering breath, looking like he was on the verge of tears. “I…I’m so sorry. I-I should’ve used a condom.” He ran a hand through his hair, tears really springing up in his eyes now. “Fuck, I’m such an asshole.”

“Look,” you said, trying to stop his self-hating streak. “It takes two to make a baby, okay? I’m…just as irresponsible as you.” That made him let out a soft sob, and you switched to trying to make him feel better. “I’m not due for another two-ish months; why don’t we…I don’t know, get dinner one night? I mean…if you want—”

“Yes, please,” he replied. “I…I want to be in my baby’s life, no matter what happens between you and I. Please.”

He was desperate, and it was hard to say no. But you also needed to know him first. “Okay. Let’s start slow, get to know each other. We can figure out everything else later.”

He nodded. “Why—why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he asked. He didn’t sound mad, just confused, wondering why you would choose to keep this from him, to do this on your own.

Your cheeks burned in embarrassment. “I, uh, threw out your note and I’ve…forgotten your name. I had no way to find you. And besides, I was…afraid you’d be upset about it, afraid you’d ask me to t-terminate—”

His eyes went wide, “no, I would never!” He took a deep, shuttering breath. “Let’s…let’s start over.” He held his hand out to you. “My name is Dominick Carisi, but you can call me Sonny.”

Smiling, you took his hand, shaking it. “Nice to meet you, Sonny. Now, if you don’t mind, my feet are killing me, and I need to sit before my legs collapse.”

[rejectofsociety]

Summary: MJ’s days away from marrying Harry, but Peter is still depressingly in love with her and decides to confess.

Rated: T

Warnings: Lotta Cursing, Cliche as hell

Word Count: 7,208

Written for @spideychelleweek with the prompt “Love Confessions”

Also read here on AO3

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

He should be happy for her— his dearest friend, Michelle, as her wedding is just days away. Peter should be hugging her as tightly as Ned does and smiling as brightly as Betty does. But he’s not. His smiles are thin and forced while his insides weep softly. And he doesn’t hug her at all, despite the physically affectionate person he usually is. He doesn’t even go near her all that much, as if the most innocent and brief touches could twist and strain his heart even more so than it already has been.

He’s not happy for her. Michelle’s getting married in two days, and Peter’s not happy for her.

He knows it’s stupid, pathetic, and petty to be hung up on his ex-girlfriend from highschool (they’re twenty-eight now), but he can’t help it. He’s tried moving past this undeniable, inescapable yearning for Michelle countless times. He had tried dating other people (to name a few: Gloria, Johnny, Liz— they are still friends now), but Peter’s relationships with them had been brief flings that ended swiftly.

Countless nights had been spent wondering if he was brave enough to ask Michelle for a second chance. But, memories of the look of dismay and the tears that stained her cheeks after he choked out: “I think we have to break up,” chased away any courage he gained. It was for the best, he always had to remind (rather, convince) himself. He had missed too many dates and important events, put her in danger one too many times, was incapable of keeping a job— he wasn’t enough for her.

So, now here they were. In Italy, with Michelle two days away from marrying her boyfriend of three years— Harry Osborn.

“Hey, Pete!” Harry calls, “are you coming with us or are you gonna keep staring off into space?”

Peter looks away from the sun setting peacefully and vibrantly on Vienna’s horizon and attempts to meet Harry’s gaze. His jaw goes tight and his eyes drop to his feet.

Harry’s a fine person— attractive as hell, stupid rich, and... that’s it actually. Maybe it was just him being bitter, but Peter saw no appeal past Harry’s looks and wealth. Sometimes he wonders if Michelle felt compelled to marry him for some reason. Why she would feel compelled to do something like that, Peter has no idea. But, he does know Michelle well enough to remember that she used to glare down at the thought of marriage.

“Sorry,” Peter grunts, after a brief pause.

“It’s alright, let’s just go,” Harry shrugs nonchalantly, “everyone’s real hungry.”

Peter only nods stiffly then follows Harry to the hotel lobby where their friends wait. In addition to Peter, Ned, Betty, Felicia, Gwen, and Johnny were the only ones who would be accompanying the engaged couple that night. Their parents (or aunt, in Peter’s case) had already gone out to dinner and the rest of the wedding guests weren’t close enough to Michelle or Harry to tag along.

Peter’s eyes briefly flicker to Michelle, lingering just long enough for him to spot her lopsided simper aimed towards him. His heart jumps joyously then sinks into the depths of his chest melancholily, prompting him to look away.

Sometimes, he swears her smiles were brighter, more relaxed, and more genuine as opposed to the tight-lipped grins she flashed at her fiancé.

“Where’re Liz and Miles?” Peter asks upon noticing the absence of his two friends.

“Miles said he was too tired,” Gwen answers, “and Liz already ate.”

He nods and stuffs his hands in his pockets, unsure of where to look. Before he can pick a spot to stare at, Johnny catches his attention with a clap of his hands.

“What’re we waiting for? Let’s go eat!” He speaks enthusiastically.

They all agree and Peter steals one more glance at Michelle— her sharp and calculative eyes, her flowing curls, her plump and unsmiling lips— before he tears his gaze away.

He wishes he could tell her how much he misses being her boyfriend. He thinks about the feeling of her lips against his and her hand grasping his palm every night— they always fit together like puzzle pieces.

“Are you still feeling sorry for yourself?” Ned asks somewhat teasingly as if he can read Peter’s mind— although, all he needed was to see Peter’s eyes lingering on Michelle.

“Psh, no,” Peter denies with a scoff.

Ned raises his eyebrows at Peter in disbelief. Peter sighs in defeat, knowing that he and Ned are at a point in their friendship where lying was impossible.

“Okay, maybe a little bit,” he admits shamefully.

“Man,” Ned sighs, “you need to move on—“

“I know, I know.”

“—Peter, I’m serious. She’s literally getting married”

“I can’t help it, Ned,” Peter insists, “I’ve tried so hard to get over her. And I almost have, but then...” he looks over at Michelle to see her smile and snort a laugh at something Gwen said, “then I look at her and fall in love with her all over again.”

Ned blinks, “dude.”

“I know,” Peter suspires and ducks his head in embarrassment, knowing how much of a Hopeless Case he is.

“You’re a mess,” Ned states it as a fact as opposed to a teasing joke.

Peter grumbles, “I know.”

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Soon enough, the friends arrive at a restaurant that Johnny insists is the best place he’s ever eaten. But, Johnny is far from a picky eater and claims every other restaurant he eats at to be the best place he’s ever eaten. Peter trusts his judgement though, but only because they’re in Italy— where all the food tastes amazing.

They’re seated at a large, outdoor table, given their menus, and left to arrange themselves. Ned takes his seat next to Betty, who sits next to Gwen, who claims her seat aside Felicia, who sits by Johnny, who opts to sit across from Peter and next to Harry, who sat across from Michelle (“so I can see your beautiful face,” he cheekily justified.)

Conversation is quickly struck up amongst the group of friends. Peter sighs quietly then looks to his left, his heart stopping in its tracks and his lungs being stripped of oxygen when he lays eyes on Michelle. His eyes widen a little as he stares at her, using the moment to take in every detail of her face— the texture of her skin, the highlights in her eyes, the shine of her lips.

“Hey,” Michelle mutters to Peter, resting her hand lightly on the back of his palm and keeping her voice quiet as to avoid interrupting the conversation around them, “are you okay? You look a little pale.”

Peter opens and closes his mouth a few times dumbly, as if he has forgotten how to speak. His heart pounds and his skin grows feverish were her hand lays; his head grows light as if he’s stood up too fast and, suddenly, he finds himself in high school once again.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he finally manages, his voice wavering.

“You sure?” She urges.

He nods quickly, “I’m sure. Are- um- are you okay?”

She raises an eyebrow and bobs her head, “do I look okay?“

“Y-yeah,” he stammers quickly, “you look really good.”

“Thanks, dork,” she chuckles and takes her hand away from his.

The corner of his mouth twitches into an unsteady simper and he manages to let out the breath that had been caught in the back of his throat. The warmth of her hand lingers on his skin and their gazes remain locked for a few moments extra.

Given the ability, Michelle would make everything look and feel as warm and sweet as Peter’s eyes were. Gazing into them feels like returning home to a lit fireplace and cup of hot chocolate on a cold, winter day. It makes her heart flutter and her face grow heated as she finds a small part of herself fighting away a yearning to be held by his protective, bulky arms.

He’s been so distant the past few years, but especially since they arrived in Italy together. She’s unsure if she’ll ever gain the courage to tell him (especially considering the fact that she’ll be wedded to Harry in just two days), but she can’t help but miss being his girlfriend sometimes. He always gave her the sweetest kisses and warmest hugs; her head fit perfectly on his shoulder and he never minded if she soaked his shirt with tears when she was having a hard time. And, if she’s really feeling brave, she can admit to herself that no one had made her feel loved in the way Peter had— that’s what had always made him stand out. Even Harry, who undoubtedly loves her, doesn’t make her feel quite like Peter had.

“I think everyone’s ready to order,” Harry observes, snatching up Peter and Michelle’s attention.

“Yeah,” Peter agrees, clearing his throat and tearing his gaze away from Michelle, “I think so.”

Michelle meets her fiancé’s eyes and presses her lips into a thin smile. There it is, Peter thinks worriedly, there’s that fake smile.

Harry catches a waitress’s attention and the black haired woman paces over to their table. They each smile politely in greeting as she takes out her notepad.

“Buonasera, posso prendere i tuoi ordini?” the pretty waitress asks— good evening, may I take your orders?

“Sí,” Peter replies for his friends, being the most fluent in Italian.

He orders their meals for his company— excluding Michelle, who speaks for herself in near-perfect Italian. Peter’s eyes light up and he raises his eyebrows at her. She winks cheekily at him in response.

Peter wraps up the order then politely compliments the waitress’s curly hair, making her face flush and her lips spread into a smile. She sheepishly mutters “grazie mille” then left to relay their orders to the chef.

Despite knowing the compliment was merely for the sake of making the waitress smile (Peter loves to make people smile), Michelle can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. She misses Peter telling her how beautiful she is— he used to tell her everyday, making sure she never forgot.

“Sono colpito,” Peter praises Michelle— I’m impressed.

She smiles gently, “grazie.”

“Since when did you become fluent in Italian?” Betty asks Michelle, her voice bright— as always.

“I took some online lessons a little bit before we got here,” Michelle replies, then briefly glances at Peter, “I couldn’t let Peter be the only multilingual genius here.”

“Cute!” Felicia hums.

Peter flushes and Harry speaks up with a raised eyebrow, “I’m literally her fiancé?”

“Mm, right,” Felicia remembers, having momentarily forgotten why they had traveled to Italy.

The friends chuckle and Peter stirs in his seat, stealing a sideways glance at Michelle as he does so. His breath hitches and he quickly tears his gaze away when he sees her looking back at him.

Like all food in Italy, their dinner exceeds expectations. And as they eat, Harry seems to hold Michelle close. Somewhat physically, but mostly mentally— dragging her opinions into conversations, keeping his eyes locked on her as if to stop her eyes from trailing to Peter, reaching across the table to hold her free hand and making her smile that tight smile.

Peter can’t help but notice these things. He’s jittery with what feels like urgency, as though he’s had a window of opportunity gaping open for years, but now it’s shrinking and beginning to disappear. In two days— when Michelle marries— the window will be completely gone. Eating dinner aside his former lover is what does it for him— makes him realize how anxious he is and how badly his heart aches.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

“I think you should tell her how you feel,” Ned says later that night, when the sun has set and the friends have retreated to their hotel rooms.

“You do?” Peter raises an eyebrow and leans back in his chair.

He feels guilt roll around in his stomach like a boulder every time he talks to Ned about Michelle. He knows Ned must be tired of the subject and tired of urging him to move on. Ned’s set Peter up with a handful of dates— he’s the reason Peter dated Johnny for a few months— but, he grew to give up when he realized the only person Peter could love as deeply as he loved Michelle— was Michelle.

“Yeah,” Ned nods, “if nothing else, you can get it off your chest.”

“But she doesn’t feel the same way,” Peter assumes, running his hand through his hair, “wh-what if I freak her out? Or she doesn’t wanna be friends anymore?”

Ned shrugs, “then say it was a joke or something.”

“Dude-“ Peter pauses, then mulls over his friend’s words for a moment, “... that’s actually not a horrible idea.”

“I know,” Ned replies flatly, “I also know that this—“ he gestures vaguely to Peter “—isn’t healthy.”

Peter hangs his head and sighs, embarrassed, “I know.”

“And who knows,” Ned adds, “you might feel a lot better afterwards.”

“Or a lot worse,” Betty chimes in as she emerges from the kitchen with a jar of pickled olives.

“Betty, seriously?” Ned huffs as she casually pops an olive in her mouth.

“‘M jus’ sayin,’” she mumbles through a mouthful.

“No, no,” Peter waves Ned off, “she’s right.”

“You guys—“ she swallows the olive then settles on Ned’s lap “—where so cute when you were together.”

Peter chuckles softly and nods, sweet memories dancing in his mind, “yeah she was- she is pretty, um... pretty damn great.”

“When’re you gonna tell her?” Ned asks, wrapping his arms around Betty’s torso.

“Um...” he rubs the back of his neck, “I’m- uh- I dunno. Soon, probably.”

Neds nods then Peter stands up and stretches. Whether he’ll actually talk to Michelle one-on-one (or confess his feelings to her), is still somewhat of a mystery to him— despite telling his friends he would. There’s a rather high chance he chickens out and bails, but for now, he needs to think it through.

“I’m gonna go take a walk,” he announces, plucking his jacket off a coat rack.

“Alright, don’t get lost,” Ned jokes.

“Be back before your bedtime,” Betty adds.

“Gee thanks, guys,” Peter sighs semi-enthusiastically.

He ducks out the front door and drags his coat over his shoulders. As he trudges through the grand halls of the hotel, his head spins dizzyingly. His mind races and swirls while simultaneously feeling stagnant— as if he’s hit some sort of brick wall that he needs to tear down.

Mulling over his obnoxious emotions, Peter steps outside. The night air is cool and crisp, quickly refreshing and relaxing Peter’s tense body.

Before he can pick a direction to start his walk, Peter is stopped in his tracks by a commotion inside the hotel. His ears prick up and his head whips around to look at the front doors. If he’s unmistaken, what he’s hearing is an argument between Michelle and her fiancé.

“Don’t fucking walk away from me, MJ!” Harry demands, “let’s just talk about this!”

“I told you, you can’t bitch at me when I look at another guy!” Michelle snaps, “that’s all I have to say.”

Cazzo, Peter thinks sharply to himself as he sucks in a breath. He quickly looks away as Michelle storms out of the hotel. She’s quickly stopped by Harry who grasps her wrist tightly.

“Can you just calm the fuck down?” Michelle challenges, snatching her wrist away from him, “I’m not leaving you, I’m just going on a goddamned walk!”

“Fine,” Harry huffs, “just be back soon.”

“Whatever,” she mutters carelessly as her fiancé whirls around and storms away.

Peter forces himself not to look at her, although she is less than a meter away from him. Instead, he stares at his feet anxiously, as if Michelle won’t notice him.

“Oh shi- hey, Peter,” Michelle startles as she turns around to see him.

Peter quickly forces a more smooth, less awkward appearance as he looks up at her with a half smile, “ciao bella,” he cheekily greets.

She hums her amusement and smirks at him, “No wonder Harry’s freaking out about us.”

“What, he wants a threesome or something?” He jokes dumbly.

Michelle lets out a laugh, her mood immediately improves. It’s impossible for her to not loosen up a little around Peter.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” She chuckles, giving his shoulder a playful shove.

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “a lot of things.”

Seeing his goofy grin, Michelle feels her heart flutter and her cheeks grow a little warm. Even years after she first fell in love with that idiot, he still makes her blush with the tiniest things.

“You- um,” Peter shuffles his feet uncertainly, “you wanna go on a walk? I-if not-“

“No, I’d love to,” she quickly interrupts.

A joyed smile spreads across his lips, “awesome.”

With hearts skipping and smiles beaming, the two begin walking down the sidewalk with their fists stuffed in their pockets to resist the urge to hold each other’s hands. In the resting city, the two friends remain quiet as both are unsure of what to talk about. Peter wisely chooses not to mention the fight he overheard, figuring that it’s none of his business and Michelle will bring it up if she wishes.

While Peter overthinks every step he takes, Michelle stares at her feet as she considers her situation: engaged to a decent man she likes, while feeling infinitely stronger towards her friend— and ex-boyfriend. She’s so far deep in her relationship with Harry that she feels that it’s pointless to leave it, especially when their wedding was as close as it was.

Sometimes, she felt as though she had made a mistake by saying yes when Harry proposed. She had froze when it happened, trapped by the gaze of his father and her family— she couldn’t humiliate him in front of everyone. And once the wedding plans had been made (it had all happened too fast for her to process), it felt like it simply made sense to marry him.

But then there was Peter. Several years ago (it felt like a lifetime had passed since), he had broken up with her and shattered her heart in the process. At first she had furious with him, then she was just sad, and now she still got upset from time to time— when she thought too hard about it— but she mostly missed Peter. She had never quite been able to fall out of love with him, even when she was tied down with an engagement ring. She doubts he returns the feelings that she holds for him— the ones that make her face grow warm, her heart flutter, and her head spin. He can take her back in time to high school with a smile and make her feel like the same girl who’d fallen head over heals for him. She hates it.

“How’s everything with Harry?” Peter blurts, internally cursing himself the moment the words leave his mouth.

“Um...” her voice trails off as she looks for the words.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly corrects himself, “y-you don’t have to-“

“No, no— it’s okay,” she assures, “things with Harry are... I-I don’t really know. He’s fine— mostly. But tonight, he got all pissed off that I looked at you during dinner. And it’s not the first time he’s done this either.”

“Oh,” Peter frowns, “that seems like an overreaction.”

Michelle sucks in a breath and nods. If he knew how she really felt, he would see what Harry’s been upset about. Harry isn’t oblivious (unlike Peter seems to be), and he doesn’t miss the longing glances she casts in her ex’s direction or the beaming smiles she flashes him a little more than necessary.

“I mean, it’s-“ she cuts herself off with a shrug, “he’s just like that.”

Peter bobs his head slightly and averts his gaze to his feet. He notices they’re crossing a bridge now as they speak— it’s the first time he’s noticed their surroundings that night. Usually, when Michelle’s in the picture, everything fades out of focus but her.

Before his mind can spiral into a whirlwind of thought, he finds himself blurting a question he knows he probably shouldn’t ask— makes him sound like a jackass (or a dumbass, depending on who’s listening):

“Why’re you marrying him?”

“What?” Michelle stops in her tracks and looks at him, seeming mildly offended.

He stops with her and rushes to correct himself, “I-I mean- like- it just seems like—“ he pauses a moment to collect his thoughts— “it seems like you don’t seem to sure about all—“ he gestures vaguely— “this. But that’s just what it looks like to me. I could be wrong-“

“No, you’re not completely wrong,” she says quickly, “I’m a little... I-i don’t know. I guess it just seems like it makes the most sense.”

“‘It makes the most sense?’ Is he, like- paying you or something?”

“No!” She defends, “fuck no. What-“

“Hey, hey,” he holds out his hands submissively, feeling his face heat up a little “it was just a joke. I’m kidding.”

She sighs softly, “it was a bad joke.”

“Yeah, I know,” he rubs the back of his burning neck, “sorry. It just... kinda feels like maybe you shouldn’t be doing something just because ‘it makes sense.’”

She eyes him closely, her shoulders relaxed again, “what do you mean?”

“I mean I’m a spider-themed vigilante, Johnny sets himself on fire, Felicia is both our best friend and thief I’m supposed to stop every night, and I—” he stops himself before he can add ‘I’m in love with you’ to the list of oddities “—the only thing that makes sense here is the fact that Harry is rich despite never working a day of his life.”

Michelle hums softly in agreement then asks: “where are you going with this?”

He sighs and pauses a moment, “I... I guess I just don’t want you to go through with this and regret it later. But I-I dunno. It’s none of my business.”

She steps back and leans against the bridge’s railing. Peter watches her carefully, trying to guess what she’ll do next. He won’t show it, but he wants nothing more than to pull her into his arms and hold her close to his chest and kiss her a thousand times. It makes him anxious as he feels it all building up every second he spends with her. He’s hid his feelings like treasure for all too long and he’s so close to caving in and revealing them.

“It’s like you don’t want me to get married,” she observes.

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he ducks his head and averts his eyes to the ground. His heart thunders in his ears and a rosy tint decorates his cheeks. He swallows thickly then lets out a shuddering breath.

Michelle’s eyes widen a little and her mouth falls open. His not-so-secret secret hits her in the chest like Thor’s hammer.

“You... don’t want me to get married,” she states and a small sense of almost-hopefulness flutters in her chest.

He shakes his head and shifts on his feet.

She eyes him closely, her heart pounding with anticipation. She thinks she knows the answer of what she’s about to ask next, but she’s unsure. Part of her hopes and begs that her suspicions are true, the other part of her dreads that she might be right and prays to no one that she’s wrong.

“Why not?” She asks, her voice shaky.

Peter takes a deep breath and gives himself a moment. He needs to think, clear his head, and- no. No, that’s the last thing he needs. He’s done too much overthinking and it’s all built up to this moment. He overthought their relationship, he overthought his feelings for her, he overthought and overthought and overthought and on and on and on— he could never seem to stop the racing of his mind.

But, in this moment, his mind finally slows to a halt. He looks up at Michelle and collects himself— only thinking about her.

Finally he confesses:

“Because I’m still in love with you.”

Michelle can only stare for a few beats. She can’t recall a time where she felt so much joy and disappointment in a single seconds. Her chest rises and falls, she wants to cheer and cry, her heart is heavy as led and light as air— all in the same breath.

Peter continues with sadness glossing over his eyes, “I know you don’t feel the same-“

“No, Peter,” she cuts him off with a wavering voice, “that’s the problem... I do.”

His eyes widen and a single word falls dumbly from his lips: “what?”

“I feel the same,” she says but it doesn’t satisfy her until— “I’m still in love with you too.”

Peter can only stare a moment, stumbling over his words as he finds himself breathless and his heart fumbles as if it’s forgotten how to beat. Even in his wildest dreams and fantasies— he could never imagine those words leaving her mouth.  

“But I can’t be,” Michelle chokes out after a beat, drawing Peter’s attention to the conflicted tears in her eyes, “I can’t be in love with you—“ she runs her hands through her hair “—I’m supposed to be in love with someone else but I’m not a-and I can’t... I can’t... I can’t fall out of love with you.”

Peter leans back against the bridge and looks at her with pity in his gaze, “MJ, I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” her head falls into her hands, “you’re not the one engaged to the wrong guy.”

Peter’s heart skips a beat at her words— ‘wrong guy’ implying that there’s a ‘right guy,’ and her eyes implying that the ‘right guy’ is the one she’s looking at. And they’re both looking at what could have and should have been their future. And they both hate and love it in the most odd, confusing, and twisted way.

“Y’know...” Peter begins, “I can think of at least three movies and six shows where this happens.”

Michelle laughs breathily yet there’s still sadness in it. Peter chuckles with her, a longing smile on his lips.

“Yeah,” Michelle chuckles, “it’s really fucking cliché.”

For a while longer, they gaze at each other, feeling as though a great burden has been lifted off their shoulders, only for another one to be placed atop their conscious. Their skin is itching with a yearning for each other’s touch and they can feel their hearts reaching for each other.

They can feel the strong longing radiating off each other and not a word needs to be spoken. Peter reaches for Michelle’s hand and she takes it gratefully. He pulls her to his body and stands on the tips of her toes, making a faint smile twitch onto Michelle’s parted lips.

There’s no hesitation between them as their lips collide, just as soft and warm and comfortable as they both remember. Michelle lets out a sigh of relief through her nose, cupping his face in her hands and tilting her head to the side as she’s greedy to feel more of him. Peter’s arms fall around her waist and, for the first time that night, his heart falls into an even rhythm. It’s calm and even as it slows into sync with Michelle’s own pitter-pattering heart.

It’s the first time in a long time they’ve felt at peace.

Slowly and hesitantly, they withdraw from each other. Michelle looks at Peter’s moonlit face through her half-closed eyes, taking in the tranquil look of bliss on his face. His eyes are still closed, his head still tilted to the side, and his lips still loose. She can’t remember the last time she saw him this relaxed.

Then the guilt hits her— and it hits her damn hard, like a punch to the chest.

Harry poured all this time and money into the wedding, all their friends and family have arrived in Italy, thousands of dollars of dresses and flowers and food and desserts have been picked out, their loved ones cleared their schedules just for this— just for Harry and Michelle. For her.

“Peter,” she says, her voice a whisper that urges him to open his eyes and look up at her, “this can’t happen.”

He blinks a few times, his expression melting into a frown, “MJ?”

She tilts her head to the side and cups his cheek in the palm of her hand. He leans into her touch, his attentive eyes never parting with hers.

“I can’t be with you,” she continues, seeing how her words break his heart, “did you really think I’d just leave with you?”

“I-i don’t know what I thought,” he admits shakily, “I guess I just... I don’t- I don’t know.”

She strokes his cheek with her thumb, “do you at least understand why I have to go through with this?”

His eyes trail off to the side and he nods slowly. But he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand why she should pretend to love someone she doesn’t or why she should worry about wasting Harry’s money when they both know that nothing could put a dent in his bank account or why- this isn’t a cliché movie or a poorly written show. That’s why. This is real life and even though they’ve confessed their love for each other, Michelle can’t automatically shut down an entire wedding just for him.

Michelle leans in to plant another kiss on his lips but he turns his head away. She stops and frowns but respects his wishes and steps away from him.

There’s a heaviness to each other’s presence. There’s a sadness in the air now, laced with longing and clouded with a mutual love for each other. There’s nothing left to do or say, so Michelle whispers:

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And walks away, back towards the hotel.

Peter watches her for a moment then looks away. He inhales a wobbly breath then shakily releases it. He knees are weak and trembling below him and his head spins dizzyingly, forcing him to drop into a crouch. He lets his head fall into his hands as his thoughts begin to race. He hates it when they do that.

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, then he shouts it and he hates himself for disturbing the peace of the city.

“Fuck!”

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Michelle lays awake almost all night beside Harry. She stares at the ceiling with a blank expression as she mulls over the events of the night.

She lets out a breath as she turns and looks at Harry who’s fast asleep and thinks he and Michelle talked things through. He thinks everything’s been settled and thinks Michelle has agreed to keep her distance from Peter, but Michelle still has no idea if she cares to uphold the one-sided promise.

She would love to make things as simple as Harry thinks they are— ignore Peter, get rid of any love she has for him, and give Harry her full attention— but she’s already tried doing that several times. It never works. Nothing ever works.

Michelle covers her face with her hands and draws in a deep breath.

“What the fuck am I doing?” She whispers to the ceiling.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Peter doesn’t arrive at his hotel room till much later in the night. When he enters his hotel room, he’s as quiet as possible only to find Ned and Betty awake on the couch with a movie playing. Ned pauses the television and looks over at Peter.

“Hey, man,” he greets tiredly, “did you talk to Michelle?”

“No,” Peter lies.

“Why not?” Betty asks with a frown.

“Because she’s probably in her room with Harry or something,” he explains, “it’s not like I’d go to their room and confess right in front of her fiancé.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” Betty agrees.

“Do you wanna watch this movie with us?” Ned offers, “it’s in Italian and we can’t really understand it, but it’s still fun to watch.”

“Thanks, man,” he smiles lopsidedly, “but I’ll pass. I think I’ll just head off to bed.”

“Alright. G’night, Peter.”

“Goodnight, Ned. You too, Betty.”

With that he ducks into his room and plops onto his bed. He can’t help but regret every word he spoke that night. And, call him dramatic (he kind of is), but he isn’t sure how he’ll manage a casual conversation (or any conversation) with Michelle after all this. Maybe he’ll cut himself off from her, pretend this never happened, try to forget about her. He could move to Italy and- no, no. That’s too dramatic. Although Italy is nice.

He’s not even sure how it happens— maybe it’s the emotional exhaustion— but he falls into a deep and heavy sleep within an hour.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Michelle awakes at roughly five in the morning with a growling stomach and foggy head. She groans tiredly and pushes her hair out of her face.

“You awake?” She grumbles, barely audible.

“Yeah,” Harry replies, not looking away from whatever he’s doing on his phone.

“Can you make me some toast?” Michelle asks, still melted into her pillow.

Harry raises an eyebrow, “Um, no?”

She rubs her face, “you serious?”

“Yeah. I’m not making you toast at five in the morning,” he almost laughs, “you can do it yourself.”

She groans again and stretches as much as she can without invading Harry’s space. It’s going to be a long marriage, she thinks with a sigh, immediately knowing she should definitely not be thinking that.

She brushes it off, stands up, then makes her way to the kitchen in her pajamas. Despite being hardly awake, she’s already annoyed with Harry— she really isn’t asking for much from him. Not just with the toast, but with things in general. She wanted him to spend a little less time focusing on his work (never gonna happen); she wanted him to be a little more considerate (nope); she wanted him to be a little more relaxed when it came to her spending time with guy friends (naw).

Her toast pops up and she takes one look at the slab a bread before deciding to trash it.

“How the fuck?” She grumbles, gingerly picking up the blackened toast, “how did you burn? That was like, five seconds.”

She sighs and tosses the toast into the trash can, almost hoping it will make the entire room smell burnt just to piss off Harry. No, don’t think that. She corrects herself quickly as she leans against the island and closes her eyes lightly. Maybe Harry isn’t as bad as she’s making him out to be. He’s... fine. She can live with and tolerate him for a few years. With that thought, her mind brings back a memory of last year.

•

“You know, baby,” her aunt spoke gently as she braided Michelle’s hair, “I’m not trying to judge you or Harry-“

“Just get to the point,” Michelle muttered tiredly.

Her aunt sighed, “I’m gonna tell you the same thing my momma told me fifty years ago: you shouldn’t marry someone you can just live with, you should marry someone you can’t live without.”

Michelle closed her eyes lightly, “what’re you trying to say?”

“I know Harry loves you, but how much do you love him?”

“Enough.”

“But could you live without him?”

Michelle went quiet, having no will to reveal the answer. However, her silence was enough for her aunt— she knew the answer.

“I just want you to be happy,” she said softly as she tied off the braid and kissed the top of her niece’s head.

•

“Fuck,” Michelle whispers to herself as the memory fades.

Her aunt is right— always has been. She could live happily (probably even happier) without Harry. She was only wasting her own time by agreeing to be around him longer than she had too. Plus, it wouldn’t be fair to Harry for him to be married to a woman who doesn’t love him back. And yes, he had spent thousands of dollars on this wedding, but he could spend thousands of dollars on many weddings without denting his bank account. And yes, their friends and family had come all the way to Italy just for the wedding, but that was ultimately just a few days of their long lives spent in a beautiful city instead of cooped up at their shitty jobs. Also, Harry had paid for their flights, so it was hardly a loss on their part.

But, more importantly— she considers this as her gaze trails off to the bedroom door— she could never love Harry the way she loves Peter and has loved him for a long time.

And then there was that kiss. The warmest, most loving kiss she’s felt in a long time.

She thinks about that kiss a moment to long and suddenly there’s grin on her lips and her heart his pounding and her chest is swelling with joy. And suddenly her body’s moving without her even thinking about it.

She rushes out of her suite and down the halls and she skids to a stop in front of the room Peter shares with Ned and Betty. She quickly knocks on the door and Betty answers it a moment later.

“Oh! Hey, Em-“

“Is Peter awake?” Michelle interrupts.

Betty’s eyes light up instantly, “yeah, I think so.”

Without another word, Michelle shoves past her and Betty breaks into an excited grin as she watches her friend.

Peter’s door is cracked opened so Michelle only knocks lightly before stepping inside. Peter sits up quickly and his eyes go wide upon seeing her.

“I hope I’m not bothering you,” she says weakly, unsure of how to say what she’s about to say.

He shakes his head, “no, you’re fine.”

“That’s… um…” her voice trails off.

Suddenly, before Peter can process, she’s across the room and in his arms as he holds her on his lap. She cradles the back of his neck in her hands and leans forward to kiss him. This time he doesn’t turn away and he lunges to connect their lips. This time the kiss is eager and a little sloppy— rushed, like they’re running out of time.

Michelle pulls away, her eyes wide and glistening as her chest heaves and her heart pounds with adrenaline. Peter stares back at her, wonderstruck and sporting a wide grin.

“I wanna get out of here,” Michelle states, determined and confident, “I wanna leave here with you.”

Peter’s heart flutters with so much joy, he swears he might cry.

“Are you serious?” He asks, just to make sure he heard her right.

“Yes, I’m serious,” she says sternly in a way that hits Peter in the chest and makes him laugh a little. “I wanna go— now.”

“Then let’s fucking go,” Peter cheers excitedly.

She peppers his face with light kisses for a quick moment and he doesn’t bother stifling his soft giggles as her lips tickle his cheeks.

The next moment, they’re up and off Peter’s bed and rushing out of his room and towards the front door. As Peter notices Michelle is still wearing no more than a skimpy tank top and pajama shorts, he stops and grabs his coat from the coatrack.

“Here,” he drapes it over her shoulders and she slides her arms through the sleeves.

“Thank you,” she smiles at him, her cheeks a little warm as she gratefully pecks the side of his face.

He grins at her and they hurry out the front door, holding each other’s hands like their lives depend on it. When they duck inside the elevator, they take the few seconds of privacy to litter each other’s faces in rushed, excited kisses.

Moments later, they’re walking as fast as they can without running through the hotel lobby.

“MJ, Peter!” They hear Felicia call, making them whirl around as their hearts stop.

Felicia has an apple in her hand from the free breakfast the hotel provides. Like every morning, she’s taking advantage of being an early bird so she can get to the best food before anyone else can.

“Where are you off too?” She asks casually.

“We’re- um-“ Peter glances at Michelle, “we, uh-“

“We’re leaving,” Michelle answers for him.

Felicia gasps excitedly, immediately realizing what’s happening, “oh my gosh, I love this trope!”

Peter laughs and Michelle rolls her eyes with a smile. From behind Felicia, Johnny tosses Peter two muffins that he catches swiftly.

“Don’t forget breakfast,” Johnny reminds with a grin.

“Thanks, man,” Peter says then his eyes widen a little with a realization and he looks at Michelle, “our stuff is still in our rooms—“

“Oh shit—“

“—I mean, I got my phone but that’s it.”

“We can get your stuff for you,” Felicia offers.

“Yeah, just text us a rendezvous and we’ll be there,” Johnny agrees.

“Awesome, thank you,” Peter gratefully replies, Michelle thanking them at the same time. “Love you guys.”

“Love you too, Pete,” Felicia laughs, “now get the hell out of here.”

“Right,” Michelle grabs Peter’s arm and they thank their friends once more.

Then, smiling like the idiots they are, they run out of the hotel together. They rush down the same path they walked along the night before, making it across the bridge where they kissed, and hurrying through the streets that are fairly empty.

They run until the hotel is long behind them and then a little further.

“Stop, stop, stop,” Michelle pants quickly.

Peter slows to a stop and Michelle stumbles to a halt beside him. He smiles at her and brushes her hair out of her face, still holding the muffins Johnny threw at him in one hand.

“Let’s sit down,” Peter nods to an elegant fountain that spurts water from several different tiers, “maybe figure out where we’re going.”

“Yeah,” Michelle laughs a little, breathlessly.

They sit on the edge of the fountain together and Michelle leans against Peter as she catches her breath. Peter rests his head on her shoulder and sinks into her gratefully.

The run may not have tired him out, but he was (up until five minutes ago) exhausted. Finally, as he breathes in the fresh air of the morning, he feels like he can rest— like he’s found real peace. He knows Michelle feels the same. She doesn’t have to say it, he just knows as he can practically feel the burden she just lifted off her shoulders.

“I have an idea,” Peter says softly after a moment.

“What is it?” Michelle asks, holding him close to her with an arm around his back.

“We should go to Paris,” he explains, “you’ve always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower— and I’ve always wanted to kiss you there.”

Michelle looks down at him and he looks up at her. She grabs his chin lightly and gently molds their mouths together, unable to get enough of the feeling of his lips against hers.

“It’s perfect,” she says as she pulls away.

Already leaning in for another kiss, Peter smiles as he says: “let’s fucking do it.”

[torialeysha]

Cold feet - Part. 17

A tailored twist.

Song: Royal Blood - Out of the black

The house was more like a mansion. A lone, vast, Victorian structure that was nestled perfectly by the sea. It’s white painted facade blended seamlessly in to the clouds that decorated the pale blue sky above. The tidy surrounding grounds stretching for miles, and rooted right in front, next to the gravelly driveway was an evergreen, spirally branched monkey puzzle tree. It was nothing less than celestial. A piece of heaven that you could call home.

It was the first morning you hadn’t suffered from sickness and apart from the exhaustion you felt from exploring and getting acquainted with your new house, you felt a lot brighter than you had done in weeks. A brightness which was soon to be disturbed by your anxious thoughts worrying about what was transpiring back in London; What was Charles thinking now you hadn’t returned? Would he have gone to your mothers thinking you was there? You hoped not. Your mother was innocent, you didn’t want her getting dragged into all this.

You tensed when a strong set of arms circled your waist then relaxed instantly when you felt Alfie’s beard tickle your neck as he planted a kiss there.

“Have you managed to get hold of him yet?” You asked him about Tommy.

“Na.” He sighed into your hair. “What about Ada?”

“I tried the hotel but they said she checked out yesterday.” You replied. Disappointed you hadn’t been able to get in touch but grateful that she was away from this spiralling mess.

“Try not to worry, pet. We’ll sort it.”

You nodded faintly, unable to share or find comfort in his resolute optimism. You leaned back into him and pulled his arms tighter around you as if the security of his burly prison would grant you the extra reassurance you needed.

“Shall we go for a walk on the beach?” You suggested a suitable, much desired distraction.

“I can’t today, Yahalom... I’ve gotta pop back to London.” He explained almost casually.

“What?” You choked, turning in his arms to check the seriousness of his excuse.

“I’ve some loose ends I need to tie up and I’ve gotta pick up Cyril as wel-“

“Can’t you get someone else to do all that for you?” You interrupted sharply.

“There’s things that need my personal attention. Signatures and suc-“

“-Then I’m coming back with you.” You told him before he could once again finish.

“No, you’re not.” He scoffed.

“I need to go back!” You insisted sternly. “I need to collect some things. I’m going to need more clothes.”

“I brought all the clothes you left at mine. They’re in the wardrobe. Anything else you need I’ll buy for you.”

“You can’t stop me from coming with you.”

“Wanna bet?” He challenged.

“You’re going to do something stupid, aren’t you? That’s why you don’t want me tagging along. You’re going back there to try and handle this yourself.” You surmised with an increasing dread tightening your insides.

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous!” He huffed. “I’ve got unfinished business back there thanks to our sudden and fortuitous get away yesterday. So I need to go back and sort ‘em out today. And you coming with me means I ain’t gonna be able to deal with anything because I’ll be too busy worrying about what you’re getting up to.” He stipulated brusquely.

“Oh don’t give me that, Alf. You could still worry about me down here on my own. I Could fall and hit my head. Anything could happen.”

“I’ve thought of that.” He agreed with a nod. “That’s why I’ve arranged for Ishmael and Daniel to come down and keep an eye on you while I’m gone.”

“Babysitters?”

“Peace of mind, pet.” He corrected.

“What about my peace of mind?” You demanded. Alfie returning to London for any amount of time made you feel ill with unease.

“I’m old enough and ugly enough look after myself, in’t I? I won’t be long, a few hours at most.”

The shrill ring of the doorbell interrupted your stand off and stopped you from arguing further.

Neither of you moved to answer it.

“I don’t wanna leave ‘ere on an argument, Yahalom.”

“Then don’t leave.”

He sighed heavily. “The sooner I go, the sooner I can get back.”

The bell rung again.

“Fuck sake! Hold on a minute!” Alfie roared towards the closed front door.

“Please, my love. I’m begging you, don’t go back there until you’ve spoken to Tommy. At least see what he has to say about all this.” Desperately your pained eyes beseeched him to stay.

“I don’t need to run anything past anyone. I handle my own business, right.” He gritted angrily.

“That’s not what I meant-“ You were cut off by the bell ringing a third time followed by knuckles rapping loudly on the door.

“Are them cunts deaf?” Alfie bellowed before turning his broad, slightly hunched shoulders and marching to the front door.

You followed him, stopping at the bottom of the staircase which stood opposite the door.

“Fine, go back without me.” You told him just as he reached for the door handle. “But be Warned, if you’re not back here by dusk then I’ll be on my way to London to look for you.” You threatened, abruptly turning on your heel and retreating up the stairs, leaving him to greet your babysitters. 

Alfie grunted, muttering something in Yiddish as he answered the door.

“What took you so long?” Alfie demanded as way of a greeting.

“Sorry, boss. The traffic was a joke.” Daniel explained.

“I’m gonna be fucking late now.” Alfie moaned. “Listen carefully...” He carried on in a hushed tone. “Don’t let ‘er out of your sight, right. And under no fucking circumstances let her leave ‘ere.”

With a vicious foreboding you observed Alfie leave from the bedroom window. You had purposely bid him a cold and transient farewell in hopes he would realise the purgatory he was subjecting you to and maybe change his mind, but it appeared he was determined in his return. Now without the consolation of a proper goodbye, you watched with choked desolation and worry as he left.

Aided by his cane, he trudged towards his automobile. He opened the car door and hesitated. Turning at the hip, his eyes rose to the bedroom window and connected with yours. Your breath caught in the back of your throat, your sweaty palm pressing against the frame of the window to steady your wavering.

“Please come back to me safely and in one piece.” You implored him quietly.

He winked as if hearing your silent plea and with one last longing look he was gone.

You peeled yourself away from the window once he had driven out of sight and debated how you could occupy yourself over the next few hours so they wouldn’t be longer and more gut wrenchingly painful than they was already going to be. The first thing you decided to do was call your mother to make sure she was ok and to see if Charles had popped by looking for you.

You chose to use the phone in Alfie’s office, the four walls that were predominantly him supplying your heavy heart with comfort from his absence.

Lifting the receiver of the telephone, you asked to operator to put you through.

A mess of papers littered Alfies desk and you tried to put order to them as you waited for the call to connect. A piece of paper scribbled with an address of one of Alfie’s warehouses and a time of 12 o’clock stole your attention.

The call connected the same time as the ring of the doorbell. Your brow furrowed at the unexpected noise coming from downstairs. Maybe it was Alfie having forgotten something. Thinking no more of it, you left it to one of the men to answer it.

“Hello?” Your mothers voice croaked impatiently a second time down the line.

“Mum? Are you ok?” You asked, relieved to hear her voice.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me. Are you ok?” You asked again but her reply was drowned out by a sudden fracas erupting from downstairs. You held the receiver away from your ear to garner more clearly what was unfolding. Two loud, horribly familiar bangs pierced the air followed by silence. You jumped up from Alfie’s desk with a gasp, your mothers questioning voice still tumbling down the receiver that was rattling in your now trembling grasp.

“I’ll call you back.” You murmured quickly and put the phone down.

Resisting the urge, somewhat instinctively to call out and break the deafening silence, you instead left Alfies office and proceeded tentatively downstairs to investigate. Your cautious steps grinded to a harrowing halt as you came face to face with Luca Changretta. Time seemed to stand still as shock sucked the air from your lungs and robbed you of your ability to scream. In your peripheral vision you saw the bodies of Ishmael and Daniel, both covered in crimson and lying motionless on the floor. 

Transfixed with utter disbelief and fear, your wide and frightened eyes focused back on the Sicilian devil and his two minions. Luca removed the matchstick he was chewing on and gave you a discerningly wicked grin, revealing in just a look that he knew everything. Coming to your senses, you turned instantly and flighted back up the stairs away from him.

“Get her.” You heard him order his two henchmen who padded heavily up the stairs after you.

You took the steps hurriedly, two at a time just making it to the top when your foot clumsily clipped the last step. You lost balance, stumbling forward and smashing your head unforgivingly on the opposing wall. Dazed, you tried scrambling to your feet in a last ditch attempt to escape but the blow to your head wouldn’t allow it. With a helpless groan you sunk dizzily back to the floor. Your surroundings became foggy and the chasing shadows blocked out all light as they neared. Any effort at fleeing was now futile but still you persisted, clawing your way desperately along the carpeted floor, not giving up until you felt a pair of forceful hands tug at your waist.

Alfie drove straight from Margate to his warehouse where he had arranged to meet Luca Changretta. He waited a full 45 minutes before a van pulled in to join him. He watched carefully as Luca emerged from the passenger seat followed by his men. Alfie was outnumbered by two, and quickly his mind weighed up the probabilities of him walking out of there alive. He concluded that the odds were in his favour considering what they had arranged in their first meeting; Luca needed Alfie to take one of his men as his second to the fight in Birmingham so they could get to Thomas Shelby and kill him. Making Alfie a indispensable asset - for now anyway.

“You’re late!” Alfie’s voice boomed, echoing through the expanse of the bare warehouse. “Now you better tell me what the fuck this is all about, mate? I mean we’ve made the fucking deal, in’t we? What more is there to say?”

“We made the deal Mr. Solomons.” Luca agreed. “But the truth is I don’t fucking trust you.” The matchstick in his mouth rolled from one side to the other. “Ya see, I’ve heard a lot about the devious reputation you’re notorious for Mr. Solomons. And you selling out your peaky pal, it got me thinking that I need some sort of... insurance, in case that fickle brain of yours is planning on double-crossing me.”

“What the fuck you on about?” Alfie frowned deeply.

“You’re a tough nut to crack Mr. Solomons, I’ll give ya that. No close family, no wife or children. I dug deep looking for some way in which I could feel more secure in our deal but I couldn’t find a fucking thing... But then our mutual friend Sabini told me something very interesting. Ya see, he had the great fortune of bumping into a whore that you’ve been seeing.” Luca removed the matchstick from his mouth and pointed it at Alfie, his eyes gleaming dangerously. “And, well...according to her, you’re not as untouchable as I thought... I just can’t believe it’s been right under my nose all this time.”

Vacantly, Alfie stared at him. “Well it’s fucking big enough, innit. I mean, I’m surprised you can see fuck all with a conk like that...”

Luca’s teeth caught the match he was chewing and bit down on it hard.

“Listen mate, if you wanted to know the size of my cock you should’ve just asked instead of chasing rumours like a headless fucking chicken. Now, why you’d be foolish enough to trust the word of a whore, I don’t know. But it still doesn’t change the fact that I ain’t got a clue what you’re rambling on about. So do us both a favour, yeah, stop beating round the bush with that smarmy fucking arrogance of yours and lay your cards on the table.” Alfie spouted stoically. Although he had begun to feel heavy with apprehension.

“Ok. I figured you’d play dumb.” Luca gave a blasé nod, then signalled to his right hand man. “Matteo! Lay my cards on the table for Mr. Solomons. Let’s see if that will help jog his memory.”

Alfies heart leapt up in to his mouth as he watched with knitted brows, Matteo step to the back of the van they had arrived in and pull the doors open wide. He reached into the back and dragged you from the vehicle. Bound and gagged you could do no more than comply. You were planted on your feet and guided forcefully forward. Your watery, bloodshot eyes bulging as they raised from the ground and fell upon a morosely stunned Alfie. A muffled version of his name erupted helplessly from your throat but was silenced by the material wedged in your mouth.

Alfie stood aghast, seized with an impotent anger. His body trembled from head to toe with an agonising rage that he was struggling to contain. It had finally happened; what he dreaded the most, what he fought diligently for so long to avoid.

“Not so fucking cocky now are we Mr. Solomons.” Luca smirked, strolling to your side.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree, mate.” Alfie started tensely. “Me and ‘er was just a bit of fun, right. She don’t mean nothing like that to me.” His forged confession sounded pitiful even to his own ears but out of desperation for your safety it was all he could do.

“Is that so? Then you won’t mind if I blow her fucking brains out.” Luca mocked, producing a gun from his belt. You flinched when the cold metal of the narrow muzzle landed at your temple.

Alfie growled, immediately whipping his own gun from the waistband of his trousers and pointing it at Luca. Automatically Luca’s henchmen drew their weapons and directed them at Alfie.

“As I thought.” Unfazed, Luca clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “It’s amazing what good pussy can do to a man.” He hummed, sliding the gun down your tear soaked face to your breasts. When the material of your dress stopped him from going any further he cocked his head disdainfully in Alfie’s direction, his thin lips curling up into a superior smirk.

“It pains me to see you like this Mr. Solomons.” He lied, enjoying the power he had over the squirming Jew. “But your dirty little secret’s out. You might as well put your weapon down and give it up.”

“Let ‘er go now or the deal’s off.” Alfie warned tightly.

Deal? You thought. What deal?

“You’re a funny guy, Mr Solomons, thinking I’m going to let go of something this priceless that easily. This here is my insurance. This here is giving me the absolute confidence that I needed to ensure that you don’t fuck me over.” Luca rasped. “Nothing’s changed, the deal still goes ahead as we planned and I still honour your costs for doing so. Then once the deed is done, I meet you outside of Birmingham and hand back the girl. As I’m sure you can understand, it’s nothing personal, just business... I mean, I suppose it is a lil personal actually considering Y/N’s meant to be betrothed to my cousin.” He glared in your direction.

“Na, that’s not gonna happen, mate - Because trust works both ways dunnit and I know for a fact, right, that you ain’t got no intentions of handing her back, dun’ I?”

“And what makes you say that?” Luca asked, seemingly bemused.

“Well once this deed’s done and I’ve fulfilled my part of it, it’ll make no difference to you if I’m dead or alive, will it? So granted, you’ll meet me outside Birmingham afterwards with the girl but only to put a bullet in my head and hers. So unless we come to some sort of compromise, the deal is off.”

“And what compromise do you suggest?”

“I want ‘er at the fight. I want eyes on ‘er the whole time-“

“-You want me to send her to the fight unaccompanied?” An incredulous Luca interrupted Alfie. “What, so you can run off into the sunset together before Shelby’s been dealt with and screw me over? No, no, no. She’ll need a chaperone at least. Someone I can trust...” He thought for a moment, and while he deliberated your mind struggled to process what you were hearing. Alfie had made a deal with Changretta to kill Thomas. You sobbed, shaking your head vigorously in protest, wishing it wasn’t so, wishing that your life didn’t now depend on it.

“Charles - as her rightful fiancé, he will accompany her.” Luca’s proposition quietened you but your inner turmoil worsened. “I’m assuming that’s no longer the case now though, huh?” He addressed you. “I wonder what he’ll have to say about all this.” He tutted.

“That’s not happening either.” Alfie told him through gritted teeth.

“Mr. Solomons.” Luca sighed exasperated. “You’re acting as if you have a choice in the matter. Be grateful, huh? You requested a compromise and I’ve given you one. Y/N will be at the fight as you wish, with Charles who I trust and who’ll be under strict instructions to behave himself. Then once it’s done he’ll hand her over. However, I want to make myself clear, Mr. Solomons, any funny business before my men carry out their duty, then all bets are off.”

“Alright.” Alfie grunted. “But let me also make myself clear, yeah, if any harms done to her, I will unleash it back on to the lot of you fucking threefold, mate. Make no mistake about it.”

Luca grinned. “Let me assure you that Y/N will be in safe hands. She’ll be heavily guarded until the fight... bare that in mind if your thinking about attempting a rescue, it would be a shame to ruin that beautiful face of hers just because you’ve tried to be a hero.”

Alfie said no more but you could tell he was seething. His furious gaze moved from Luca to you, his eyes softening ruefully. Tears fell helplessly down your cheeks as you stared back at him, your anguished look willing him wordlessly not to go through with it.

“I’ve gotta say it’s refreshing to see this softer side to you Mr. Solomons.” Luca admitted teasingly. “Let me tell ya, if I had a heart it’d be breaking right now - but I don’t, so now we’ve come to an understanding, Imma get this show back on the road.” Luca grabbed one of your shackled arms and tugged you backwards towards the van, pulling harder as you tried to resist, Alfie lurched forward angrily to intervene, stopping when Luca’s henchmen once again drew their weapons on him.

“Remember what I said about being a hero, Mr. Solomons.” Luca Cautioned. “Don’t worry, just a couple more days and you’ll be reunited.” Luca reasoned as he bundled you into the back of the van and slammed the doors.

“Oh, and I have to apologise...” You heard Luca’s muffled voice continue through the metal of van.

“I made a bit of an unavoidable mess in that beautiful house of yours. Just add the cost of the clean up to the bill.”

The van wobbled as the men occupied the front seats

“Toodle pip.” Luca bid Alfie farewell in a mock British accent, and the engine of the van roared, then after a beat the it took off, throwing you forward. Unable to keep balance you collapsed weakly onto your back and just laid there, staring into the darkness. Visions of Luca’s smug mug and Alfies tortured frown plagued your mind, followed by the horrendous, gory image of Ischmael and Daniels expired bodies; their blood spent at your expense. Then your imagination ran wild with the things that hadn’t happened yet. Like the treacherous murder of Thomas Shelby, and the anger, pain and plotted vengeance of the peaky gang for the loss of their leader and kin... But possibly worse than that - due mainly to its imminence, was the dreaded notion of having to face Charles. Luca’s words rung hauntingly in your head

‘ wonder what Charles will have to say about all this?’

You wasn’t worried so much about what Charles was going to say but more so about what he was going to do...

Previous

Tag list: @storm-bjorn @alsheyra @lililolli @jaegers-and-kaijus @lightwoodt @stars-trash-18 @anrm1 @innerpaperexpertcloud @alitheamateur @hardygal69

[dancingdeacyy]

Rebound (Roger Taylor x Reader)

Hello everybody! I’m here with a Roger Taylor one shot, yayyy!!

I want to know if you would like to be in a pemanent tag list and if you like this part, imma write a second one about their relationship.

Warnings: mentions of cheating and alcohol, nothing serious.

Having a broken heart sucks but you’re better than that, or at least that’s what you keep on remind yourself, your boyfriend, Mark, cheated on you last week, your heart was obviously broken but what hurt you the most was with who he cheated on you, your best friend thought it would be fun to shag your boyfriend.

However, your heart stopped feeling empty when you were around your brothers, well brothers from another mother, the guys that knew exactly how to put a smile on your face but they loved you like a little sister and you knew they'd probably kill him, that’s why it remained a secret.

The guys invited you to a club tonight and of course you said yes, you loved clubbing with them.

You didn’t like one night stands but you thought it will work tonight to keep your mind off of Mark, that means you’ll have to use an extra hour to get ready, just in case. 

The guys were already outside of your flat, as soon as you stepped out, Roger started honking, Freddie started cheering and Brian and John clapped their souls out, you started modeling to their vans, waving for hips and blowing kisses, they made you happy.

“We look stupid at your side, y/n” Roger said after greeting you. ”You’re a god damned model”

“Keep those compliments to your girlfriend, Taylor” you said winking, you have never said it out loud but you didn’t like Roger’s girlfriend, Mila,  she gave you some ugly vibes and it makes you worried. “Where are the girls?” You said, all of them had girlfriends and you loved them all, except Roger’s but that’s a secret.

“They are going to Mila’s house, they’ll meet us there.” Brian said. “Ready to go crazy?”

“‘Course love” I said winking. “As always”

“Darling, you’re dressed to kill.” Freddie sassily said. “Where’s your man?” Oh, there’s the question, ‘Helter Skelter’ began playing on the radio and it was the perfect way to end the conversation. 

“Damn, turn it up!” you screamed, partly because of the question.

All of you started singing (Screaming), your cheeks were hurting from smiling and your heart felt full and happy.

When you arrived at the club, music blasted and people were grinding against each other, it was a weird atmosphere but the guys were with you, that made you feel safe.

The girls were already there, you went to say hi, but surprisingly, not really, Mila completely ignored you, apparently she didn’t like you either. 

The couples went to the dance floor after taking a couple of shots, Deacy saw you pouting and drinking shot after shot, he offered you his hand smiling, you looked at Veronica, his girlfriend, she nodded.

You took Deacy’s hand and went to the dance floor, he was a great bassist, an awesome friend and an incredible dancer, he was smooth and unstoppable. 

You danced with him song after song and you enjoyed it so much you forgot about the other guys.

You looked at them, Fred, Brian and the girls except Mila were talking and drinking. Roger was pouting and playing with his glass of SoCo.

“Deacs, what happened with Rog?” You asked and stopped dancing.

“Wanna go with him?” He asked you and you nodded giving John a peck on his cheek as a thank you.

You walked slowly until you were standing in front of him, he lifted his head, his blue eyes were sad and his smile looked forced. 

“May I?” You asked him softly, he nodded and you sat by his side, he put his head on your shoulder and you caressed his hair softly. “What happened, love?”

“Look at the bar, love” He said, closing his eyes. 

Mila was there, shoving her tongue down a man’s throat, why are you not surprised?

“Wanna go out for a bit, Rog?” You asked, looking softly at Rog, he nodded and took him outside, you sat on a bench. 

“I don’t understand, y/n” he said looking at you. “What am I doing wrong?”

“You’re not doing anything wrong, Rog.” You told him. “I know what you’re going through”

“No you don’t, y/n, no man could ever cheat on you, you’re bloody perfect” he told you, frustrated and raising his voice a bit. 

“Actually... “ You started saying, scared of saying something wrong. “Mark did, with my best friend, ex best friend i guess”

“What?” He said, now angry at your confession. “I’ll fucking kill him” 

“Rog, stop, this isn’t about me-” You tried to say.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” He asked with a pout.

“I don’t want your pity, and I knew you and the guys would probably kill him, so…” you answered laughing trying to lighten up the mood. “So yeah, i know what you’re going through” 

I patted his knee “Let’s go inside, let’s prove her you’re more than this” 

He took your hand and walked inside with you. 

“Wanna dance?” He asked you.

“I’d love to” He took you to the dancing floor and placed his hands on your waist, Twist and Shout started playing and you screamed in joy. 

“This is your favorite, darling” you nodded and put your head on his chest.

His hands on your waist swayed it to the rhythm of The Beatles.

“I’ve always liked dancing with you.” Roger said and smiled.

“You hate dancing, Rog, stop jo-” You started saying but Mila pushed you aside, Rog quickly grabbed your waist to avoid you getting hurt.

“Why are you dancing with my boyfriend, y/n?” she said, getting close to you, trying to intimidate you.

“I’m not your boyfriend anymore, Mila.” Roger said and gestured to you to go and sit with the rest of the guys who had already noticed what was happening.

“Guess who’s a cheating asshole?” I asked while sitting next to Brian and Chrissie.

“Everyone knows the answer, darling.” Freddie said, and laughed. “Cheers” he said sarcastically and drowned a shot. 

Roger came back and sat next to me, his head was again on my shoulder and stole Deacy’s beer.

“I guess we’re the singles of the group” He said laughing and the guys turned to look at you both. 

“y/n is single?” John asked and you closed your eyes and sighed 

“Mark cheated on me, last week, but please, let's not talk about it” You said and stole Roger’s beer (Deacy’s).

“Guess we should date now” Roger said giggling and his breath tickled your neck. 

“Yeah” you laughed and looked down at him. “I guess we should”

After that night at the bar, your relationship with Roger grew stronger, your ex’s were forgotten and you went out with Rog and the guys (Sometimes only with Roger) every sunday, after 4 months of a heartbreak, your heart felt stronger and happier.

Today you were planning a picnic to celebrate Valentine’s day. 

The guys couldn't make it because they were spending the evening with their girls, it was only Roger and you. 

You baked a pie, packed some beers and a bottle of wine, Roger found a perfect spot to see the sunset, he was going to pick you up and take you there, you were wearing a sundress and some stilettos that you loved, it was soft but pretty, definitely something you would wear. 

Roger honked and you went to meet him, you could see he was wearing a white shirt and a pair of old jeans, he looked perfect, that's something a friend would say to another without developing feelings, right?

“You gonna stare at me the whole day or are you coming?” He said opening the car door for you. 

“I was waiting for you to open my door, like a gentleman” you said sitting and dropping the picnic basket in the back seat 

“Shall we?” He said pointing his head to the road

“We shall” you said patting his knee an giggling 

The car ride was fun, as always, we were singing (screaming) every song on the radio, Roger rolled down the windows and our hair was messier than ever, you felt free and alive, it's funny how you always get to feel like that when you are around him.

Roger took your hand and put it under his on the gear stick.

You looked at him and smiled, you felt something new in your heart, love? maybe, but you were sure Roger would take care of your heart.

  ---

That’s pretty much it haha, I really hope you like it, if you do, don’t forget to ask for the second part! 

I really loved this one and im so excited to continue writting it.

Don’t forget to repost, like and share!