#except it’s Fucking Weird to play it now because I’m twenty fucking four

[redcorvid]

Btw replaying my source and I’m still a gay person in case you all forgot

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

Quartet chapter 10

here it is. NSFW.

Daniel is starting to sweat.  He’s been here for fifteen minutes already, because he’d been so anxious he left the house early just to stop pacing the hall.  He’s been here since 8:30, and he knows Armand won’t be here until exactly 9:00.  He’s never late or early, he’s always exactly on time.  It’s one of his weird little quirks.  

He wonders if he should button up his shirt.  He has four of the buttons undone, which is more than he has since his twenties.  Not without another shirt underneath.  It makes him feel exposed.  Being exposed doesn’t bother him, except it will be under Armand’s gaze.  He doesn’t want to be found wanting.  

At least it’s quiet in here; in one of the private booths upstairs in the Azalea.  They were booths that had curtains built around them for privacy.  You could barely hear the music playing on the floor below.  Lily had led him up here to this booth as soon as he arrived and delivered him a Grasshopper.  It was Daniel’s favorite drink, but he never ordered it unless he was at a gay bar.  Daniel wonders if it’s some secret test, or if Armand just did it because he knew it was Daniel’s favorite.  

He drinks it all the same.  It’s gone by the time Armand slips inside the curtain and across from him, martini in hand.  His hair is slicked back and his eyes are lined with dark liner.  He’s wearing that white shirt and pants that Daniel likes.  Those pants that hug his ass and that shirt that he has open enough to be showing a tantalizing amount of chest.  

“Hey, boss,” Daniel says, a little breathless at seeing Armand in person again after so very long.  

The corner of Armand’s mouth tugs up a little.  “Hello, Daniel.”

“Fuck, it’s good to see you again,” It slips out of Daniel’s mouth before he can stop it.

Armand smiles.  “It’s good to see you too.”

Daniel remembers the last time they were here.  Armand had been out shopping with Bianca before meeting him.  (Daniel was so, so grateful he had someone else to take shopping.  Armand bought weird shit, like an air fryer that connected to the internet.)   It had been a windy day, and Armand’s lips had gotten chapped. So he borrowed Bianca’s chapstick.

It had left his lips tinted red and faintly shimmering.  Daniel had been unable to look away from his mouth; all he could think was how pretty it would look wrapped around his cock.  Armand practically read his thoughts, because after a few minutes, he had slid around to the other side of the booth and whispered in his ear to keep quiet.  Then he bent down and took Daniel into his mouth right there in the bar.  Daniel had to bite into the meat of his hand to keep quiet, and he came so hard that he saw stars.  

“How have you been?”  Daniel asks.  He wants to know everything, even the mundane details.  If it’s about Armand, it’s interesting to him.  

“I’m always fine, you know that, Daniel.”

“I know you pretend to be,” Daniel counters.  “But really, tell me about what you’ve been up to.  What’s changed?  What’s the same?”

Armand talks about the theater, about his latest fixations.  It had been planes for awhile; he actually has a pilot’s license now.  He offers to take Daniel flying sometime, which honestly seems terrifying, given the way he drives.  Daniel has been on the back on his motorcycle before, and Armand drives like traffic laws are mere suggestions.  

Once, Daniel had pointed out he broke at least four laws driving around the block.  Armand had said something about being able to afford the fines, and Daniel had remembered he was, at heart, a trust fund baby.  

They talk and they talk about anything that comes to mind. Work, current events, philosophy.  Before Daniel knows it, it’s been two hours and they still haven’t touched on their relationship.  So Daniel takes a breath and says “I wanted to talk about us.”

Armand goes silent.  Daniel doesn’t let it discourage him.  “I want you back.  However you’ll have me.  If that means being out in the open, then that’s what I’ll do.”

Armand’s gaze is careful.  “You’ll resent me for forcing you out before you’re ready.”

Daniel shakes his head.  “I gotta get out of the closet.  Any deeper and I’m in Narnia.”

It’s an uncomfortable thought, but he’s willing to go through with it if it means being with Armand.  And it isn’t like he doesn’t want to be able to be out in the open.  But he’s seen how homophobic the world can be; he doesn’t look forward to dealing with all that.

“And what do you expect?  For things to go exactly back as they were?”

“No, I don’t expect that,” Daniel says.  “But I’m willing to take it at your pace.”

Armand observes him for a moment and says “I’ll consider it.”

That’s halfway there already. 

/

Louis had offered to go to the Azalea tonight for moral support, but Armand had said it wasn’t necessary.  Louis hadn’t been sure if that was because he was still angry or not.  Armand could be hard to read when he wanted to be.  

He’d been mostly silent since last night, though Louis figured it’s in part due to nerves.  Still, he had followed him to the door and asked if they could talk when he got home.  Armand had said he didn’t know how late he would be back; Louis had said he’d wait up.  

He’s been replaying that conversation with Lestat in his head over and over.  Then remembering how Armand turned away from him.  He can’t even focus on his book.

Armand has only been gone around an hour when there’s a knock at the door.  There’s no way it could be Armand back already, even if things went poorly with Daniel he wouldn’t have time to go to the Azalea and make it back.  Louis doesn’t know who to expect when he opens the door.

It’s Lestat.

He’s wearing black skinny jeans and a black tee shirt and there’s dark liner around his eyes.  He must have been playing a gig somewhere earlier.  He looks good.  

Fuck, he looks good .

“What are you doing here?” Louis says after a second of stunned silence.  How did Lestat even find out where he lived?  Did Daniel tell him?  Surely not.  “How do you know where I live?”

“Louis,” Lestat says, like he hasn’t heard a word Louis has said.  He stares at the mark on Louis’ neck.  Lestat steps forward and stops himself.  “Can I come inside?”

“Hell no,” Louis says, and goes to shut the door in Lestat’s face.  

Lestat catches the door and squeezes his way inside.  “Just five minutes, Louis.”

Louis crosses his arms and glares at Lestat.  He’s well aware of how unintimidating he looks in his red cotton pajamas.  “What do you want?”

“You, Louis.  Always you.”

Louis scoffs.  “That’s not how I remember it.”

“I’ve made mistakes, but I’ve changed,” Lestat says.  “Let me show you that I’ve changed.”

The likelihood that Lestat has actually changed is slim.  Louis knows that.  But Lestat looks so earnest, he almost wants to believe him.  Almost.  “Did you forget I’m married?”

“He doesn’t love you like I do.”

Louis shakes his head.  “He loves me.”  

“Then why is he with Daniel now?  Why aren’t you enough?”

The words cut, but Louis doesn’t let it show.  “It ain’t like that.  You wouldn’t understand.”

Lestat laughs.  “I know you, cher.  You would never allow him if you really loved Armand.”

Louis crosses his arms and glares.  “I love him.”

Lestat’s eyes meet his.  “They way you loved me?”

Louis’s chest feels tight, like he can’t breathe.  He needs Lestat to go .  He tilts up his chin.  “More.”

“Liar,” Lestat says, and then he’s pressing Louis to the wall and suddenly he’s kissing him.

The entire world seems to shift on its axis.  Louis’ mouth opens against Lestat’s and his fingers wind in his hair to hold him close.  Lestat’s tongue slips in his mouth and Louis groans against him.  It’s been so long since he’s done this, it’s been eight years, and Lestat still kisses exactly the same.  Louis kisses him back frantically, and it’s like he’s a drowning man finding air.  He feels alive .

Lestat’s hands on his waist slip down to cup his bottom and Louis pulls back.  He pushes Lestat away from him.  “Get out.”

“Louis-”

“Lestat, go,” Louis says and points to the door.  His chest is heaving and he can barely breathe, still breathless from kissing Lestat.  “Just go.”

Lestat looks at him for a long moment, then nods.  “This isn’t over.”

Louis waits until he’s gone to collapse against the wall.  He thuds the back of his head against it and swears.

What the hell is he going to tell Armand?

/

Daniel had taken a cab to the Azalea, but Armand offers to give him a ride home.  It’s only an excuse to spend more time together, which Daniel gladly accepts.  All the way back, Armand’s legs are spread wide enough that his knee is touching Daniel and that single point of contact is driving him crazy.

They don’t talk about much on the way.  Halfway there, Armand’s hand comes to rest on his knee and his thumb strokes back and forth over his kneecap.  Daniel has never been so aware of another person’s touch.  His entire body throbs with desire.  He wants Armand more than he ever wanted heroin.  

The car stops in front of Daniel’s house.  Armand is out the door before Daniel can unhook his seatbelt.  He opens the door for Daniel and Daniel steps out.  Armand walks him to the door, easily falling into step beside him and letting their arms brush.  Daniel stops at the door and looks at him.  “You wanna have a cup of coffee or something?”  

Meaning did he want to come upstairs and absolutely fuck Daniel’s brains out.  From the amused smile, Armand gets what he means.  “No, Daniel.  Louis is expecting me.”

“Right,” Daniel says and his gaze falls to Armand’s mouth.  He wonders if it would be out of line to kiss him.  “Well, goodnight, Armand.”

Armand takes a step closer.  Daniel’s breath catches and his heart skips a beat.  Is Armand going to kiss him?  

Armand brings up his hand and strokes his thumb along Daniel’s jaw.  He bends down and Daniel wants him so badly; his eyes fall closed in anticipation.  Armand’s lips brush against his cheek.

“Goodnight, Daniel,” Armand says, and steps back.  He turns and heads back to the car, like he hasn’t just left Daniel yearning.  Daniel watches him slip inside his car and it drive away.  

Armand is considering taking him back.  All he has to do now is wait for him to come around.  Daniel can do that.  He’s already waited two years; what’s a bit more time?

/

Louis is by the door as soon as Armand comes in.  He seems more at ease now; he’s even smiling faintly.  Daniel never fails to improve his mood.  Well, except those times he was the reason for that mood.

“We gotta talk.”

Armand breezes past him towards their bedroom.  “Why?  So you can play at confession and be absolved of your sins?”

Louis follows behind him and clenches his jaw.  He isn’t going to get angry with Armand.  It’s pointless; and besides, he is the one who messed up.  He lied to Armand.  He probably owes him an explanation.  If he even wants one; Louis sure hadn’t given a damn about reasons when he found out about Antoinette.  But he’s not that bad; he isn’t.”

“It was Lestat I was talking to the other night,” Louis says, watching as Armand unbuttons his shirt.  He likely wants to go to bed, Louis knows he didn’t sleep well last night.  Neither did he.  “But you already knew that.”

Armand doesn’t look his way, just slides off his shirt and moves to taking off his pants and shoes.  “Yes, I came to that conclusion.”

Louis crosses his arms and hunches in on himself a little.  “I unblocked him and he texted me.  It was impulse to call him.”

“And why do you think you had that impulse, Louis?” Armand says, so, so mildly.  It’s frustrating as shit.  And Louis isn’t touching that question.  He doesn’t even want to think about it, much less explain it to Armand.

“That’s not all,” Louis says, as Armand pulls on a pair of navy blue pajama bottoms.  He leaves his chest bare.  It’s actually a bit distracting, because Lestat’s visit has him keyed up in more ways than one.  “He stopped by while you were out.”

Armand’s gaze finally swings over to him.  “Did he?”

Louis meets his gaze and blurts “He kissed me.”

Armand blinks.  “He kissed you?”

“Yeah.”

Armand takes a step closer to him and Louis feels a chill go down his spine.  “Did he force himself on you?”

“He didn’t stop and ask for permission, if that’s what you mean,” Louis says, and he feels his face getting warm.  

“So you didn’t kiss him back?”

Louis clears his throat and looks away for a moment.  “I didn’t tell him to stop.”

Another step.  “That isn’t what I asked, Louis.”

Louis’s breath quickens.  There’s something volatile brewing in the air between him and Armand, and he isn’t sure if it’s a fight or a fuck.  “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“Armand-”

“I’d like to hear you say it.”

Louis lets his arms fall to his sides and takes a breath.  “I’m sorry I kissed Lestat.  Armand, I-”

“What else did you do with him?”

“Just kissing, I swear,” Louis says.  He closes the space between them, standing less than a foot apart now.  He reaches for Armand’s and Armand gently but firmly pushes his hand away.

Louis lets his hand drop.  “I’m sorry; it was a mistake.”

He sounds like fucking Lestat trying to apologize for Antoinette.  He hates himself.  

“A mistake?”

Louis nods.  “I don’t know what else there is to say.”

Armand’s head tilts to the side.  “You aren’t going to plead for forgiveness?  Assure me it meant nothing?”

“That what you want?”

Armand’s hand comes up to wrap under Louis’ jaw and tilt up his head.  “No, Louis; that isn’t what I want.”

Louis feels his dick stir.  He doesn’t know if he should let himself cave in to the feeling or not.  Sometimes Armand played psychosexual games.  He’s kinky like that; he’s kinky in a lot of ways.  Louis didn’t even know about some of them until they got together.  

“What do you want?”

Armand looks into his eyes.  “Do you plan to kiss him again?”

“Hell no,” Louis says.  He means it, too.  He is done with Lestat.  

“Good,” Armand says, “because you’re mine.”

Then he kisses Louis, deep and filthy and his hand slides inside his pants and rubs over his cock.  Louis kisses him back, letting himself mindlessly follow Armand’s lead.  A sense of calm washes over him and he clutches at Armand’s chest.  Armand pulls back from the kiss with a harsh bite to his lower lip.  The slight jab of pain sends a jolt to his dick.  

“I don’t like how you said that; like I’m your property or something,”  Louis has said something similar to Lestat before.  Figures that his type would be possessive bastards.  

Armand’s mouth moves over his neck and he bites that tender spot where shoulder meets neck.  His hand speeds up on Louis cock. Louis moans.  

“It sounds like you like it just fine,” Armand says.  He uses his grip on Louis' jaw to direct him to the bed, and flings him back onto it.  “On your stomach, hands behind your back.  Naked.”

Louis does as Armand says.  Armand pulls the handcuffs out of the nightstand and clamps them on Louis, keeping his hands tight together.  Next comes out the trunk kept under the bed.  Armand opens it and quickly looks through their wide assortment of toys.  He selects a dark colored wooden cane and puts the trunk away.  

He does it slowly enough for Louis to object if he wants too.  Louis doesn’t; his cock is throbbing at the thought of Armand cracking blows with that cane.  It hurts, yes, but the pain is like permission to feel the pleasure, a release of sorts.  He’d explained it once to Daniel who understood perfectly.  He thinks Armand must understand too; he’s good at hurting him in just the way he needs to let go.  

The cane whips down on the bed next to Louis’ thigh.  “Get up on your knees, face down.”

Louis does, and spreads his knees open wide.  He wants to be ready for the part where Armand fucks him after.  If that part is coming.  Armand could decide to leave him hanging as punishment.  

The cane whacks across the back of Louis’ right thigh.  It isn’t hard enough to hurt, just to get his attention.  “Ten blows.  Count them out.”

Louis nods his head.  

The cane comes down again, harder this time.  It hits in the exact same spot and it stings, bright and hot.  “One.”

Armand slides the bottom of the cane over his crack, then deals a wicked strike to his left cheek.  “Two,” Louis says, starting to sweat.

Blow three is less precise, hitting both cheeks.  It’s hard enough to shift Louis up the bed a little.  It hurts enough that he cries out in pain, then moans in pleasure.  “Three.”

Four and five are quick blows over the back of his left thigh.  Louis counts them out with gritted teeth.  His cock is throbbing and aching.  The sixth strike hits along his right inner thigh and Louis gasps out at the hurt.  “Six.”

Seven is the left inner thigh, slightly higher up than the blow on the right.  It hurts exquisitely and Louis’ voice is shaky when he counts it.  Nine is another resounding blow over both cheeks and tears wet Louis' eyes.  “N-nine.”

The bottom of the cane rubs over his hole and slightly pushes in.  Louis spreads his legs wider, so turned on all he can think is he wants something inside him.  Armand draws it back and cracks the last blow over his hole.  The tears fall from Louis’ eyes and he thrusts his hips forward into nothing, his cock desperate for friction.  

“Louis,”

“Ten, ten,” Louis pants.  

He closes his eyes to take a second, and the next thing he knows there are slick fingers pushing inside him.  The preparation perfunctory, then Armand is sinking inside him.  It hurts, to have him pressed up against his sore bottom and thighs, but it’s a good hurt.  Armand pulls back and slams back into him.  He grips the chain on the cuffs and uses it to yank Louis back onto his cock while he slams his hips forward.  

Louis’ balance slips and his knees slip just a bit further apart.  He didn’t think he could spread them any wider, and it burns his thighs to do so now.  But Armand is hitting him deeper, and just battering his prostate.  It feels so good.  With his hands bound, all he can do is take it.  

He moans and drools into the mattress.  Every slap of Armand’s body against his sends a fresh wave of pain, not strong, but constant.  The hand on Louis’ hip is gripping tight enough to bruise, and it’s a grounding sort of pain.  Armand slams into him, again and again and Louis can only pant his name.  “Armand, Armand, give me your hand.”

Sometimes when they fuck, Armand won’t let him come.  He’ll make Louis wait until he finishes, then he’ll turn Louis over and blow him until he’s begging.  Louis hopes that isn’t what he’s doing now.  He needs to come.  He needs Armand to touch him.  

“No,” Armand says.  “You’ll come like this or not at all.”

Armand twists his grip and yanks Louis so he’s up on his knees with his back to Armand’s chest.  Or as close as it can be, with his arms in this position.  It makes Armand’s cock sink impossibly deeper and Louis groans.  Armand bites and sucks at his neck, along the shells of his ear.  

Louis turns his head and tries to kiss Armand.  He pulls back and Louis feels a hot curl of embarrassment at the rejection.  “Armand, honey, don’t be mean.”

Louis rarely used pet names.  But they can be employed strategically against Armand.  Armand captures his lips and kisses him.  It’s messy and sloppy, and so fucking hot.  His cock drives into him and Louis feels so full, he’s stuffed and it’s amazing.  “Oh god, oh god.”

Armand quickens the pace and Louis nearly cries.  He’s so close.  God, he wishes Armand would touch him.  He probably would, if Louis begged for it.  But Louis' pride doesn’t always let him do so.  Not today.  “Honey, please.  Please.”

Armand’s hand finds his cock and wraps around it.  Louis almost sobs with relief.  It only takes a few strokes and Louis is spilling over his hand, his orgasm hitting him so hard that he shakes.  His toes curl and his vision goes blurry.  Armand slams into him a final time and comes buried deep inside him.  

Louis’ knees feel weak and he falls forward and clutches the pillow.  Armand pulls out of him and Louis can feel his come sliding down his thigh.  It’s disgusting, but he couldn’t make his legs work right now if the room was on fire.  Usually, after they do something like this, Armand will clean him up and cuddle with him after.  Especially if it’s one of those times when things get all floaty and loose.  

Armand puts on his pajamas while Louis melts into the mattress.  His ass is sore, and his thighs.  They have cream to rub over the welts.  Armand usually puts it on him after they do something that leaves marks.  He sort of expects Armand to do it now, because Armand always takes care of him after he’s rough with him.  

His arms are aching as well.  Armand uncuffs him, but he doesn’t run over his wrists like normally.   Instead, Armand puts away the handcuffs and plucks his ipad off his nightstand.  “I’m spending the night in the guest room tonight.”

Louis’ stomach drops and his good mood vanishes.  “Armand, I-”

“I will forgive you,” Armand cuts in.  “But tonight I need to be alone.”

With that, he’s out the door and Louis is all alone.

[solarwonux]

84.  “I can tell you’re stressed, let me fix that.”

roomate!junkook x f!reader

genre: smut

w.c: 3.2k

warnings: smut, fwb, Jungkook and his tattoos, tattooartist!jungkook, dom!jungkook if you squint, spiting, cum eating, oral sex (m receiving), a brief mention of voyeurism, briefly edited, also Jungkook is kind off fluffy, this couple is weird af y’all. 

note: hello, Idk what I did but I’ve done it lol. This is also a drabble that will eventually be part of a bigger story that I have half outlines lol, so I hope you enjoy this preview. I hope you like it please let me know your thoughts. Enjoy.xx

MASTERLIST || PROMPTS

Fourth time’s the charm.

Jungkook thought as he made his way to the front door of the tattoo shop. He pulled on the handle rather harshly making sure it was closed. Last week he had forgotten to lock the door, resulting in a drunk stranger walking in demanding a tattoo. Thankfully, the stranger’s intrusion triggered the security alarm, waking Jungkook in a fright. He ran down the steps of his apartment - the one located above the shop, half naked, carrying the bat you and him kept by the front door, his heart pounding against his chest. 

To say the least he was terrified. Scared that something would happen to the expensive tattooing equipment. Scared that Yoongi would fire him and therefore kick him out of the apartment, scared of something happening to you. His nerves subsided when he found the drunk stranger, passed out on the couch in the waiting room. 

The equipment, his job and you were all safe. 

Ever since then he had made it his mission, even writing it down on a highlighter yellow sticky note as a reminder; to check not once but four times if the front door was locked.

Jungkook sighed, giving the door one last pull, making it rattle against the locks, before deeming it locked. A fifth time wouldn’t hurt. 

He turns around, walking past the waiting room and the reception desk. He does one last look over, mumbling underneath his breath, checking to see if he had done everything he needed to do on his to-do list before turning off the lights. Quickly, he pushed aside the colorful paint splattered curtain that hid the front door to his apartment to the general public. He pressed in the code, waiting for the lock to click, going over the appointments or lack there off he had the following day. 

As of late, Jungkook, Yoongi, Jimin and Hoseok hadn’t had many clients come into the shop or request an appointment via instagram. He blames the rival shop that opened a few blocks away, and their stupid flash event, where they tattooed people for free. Of course they weren’t intricate pieces, small basic ones that you would pick out from the generic tattoo binder. But it still caused a dent in their clientele. 

That night you came home after work to find the four tattooists, on the couch, shooting glares at the shop door, with a large bottle of whisky in between them, and their man-size ego down in the slumps. The solution was simple, at least it was in your head. 

“Hold an event like theirs, maybe shirtless. I’ve only seen Jungkook’s abs because he loves walking around the apartment half naked but I’m sure you guys have a promising pair.” You suggested with a shrug, earning groans and complaints from the four artists on the couch. 

Yoongi stood up first, holding a hand out as an attempt to regain his balance from the sudden movement. “I’m not degrading myself or my art for clients. I’m also not giving away my talent for free.” He slurred, pointing an accusatory finger in your direction, “and my abs are better than Kooks.” 

“Alright, it was just a suggestion.” You held your hands up in defeat, taking a step back. “I’m going to bed, enjoy your pity party.” You smiled at them before making your way to the front door and disappearing. 

In hindsight, maybe you were right. Except for the half naked part, that’s dangerous and goes against all tattoo etiquette. But maybe holding a flash event and offering tattoo’s half off was not a bad idea. It would surely bring back their clients and make way for new ones. He would have to bring it up to his coworkers tonight when they came over.

Jungkook sighed, stopping at the top of the stairs facing the final door that led to his living room. He could hear the loud poppy music you were playing behind the door. Living with you wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be when Yoongi first offered you the vacant room. You were clean, organized and relatively respectful of personal space, but he hated your music. It was generic and just way too bouncy and happy, it was a good thing you gave a great head, if not he would’ve begged Yoongi to kick you out long ago. Before he got attached.

He wasn’t a dick he just thought with his dick ninety nine percent of the time and right now it was very much needing a stress release. Jungkook punched in the final code and opened his front door, revealing you in nothing but a tight pair of leggings and a sports bra, sweat droplets running down your body as you followed along with the exercise video on youtube. You looked very much like you would look after the two of you finished fucking and it made his cock stir in his jeans.

“Did you lock the door?” You said in between breaths, squatting down, finishing your last rep of squats. Jungkook bit his bottom lip, nodding in response. His hands were down by his sides, itching to squeeze your ass, to pull you against him and take you on the couch. It wouldn’t be out of pocket either. He knew you would give in the second he gave you that lust filled look of his. The one that was desperate and needy and practically begging for your touch.

You stopped pausing the video and turned to look at him, hands on your hips, chest heaving in a poor attempt to catch your breath. Jungkook knew he was fucked. “Are you sure you locked the door?” 

“Yes I checked five times tonight, have you had dinner?” He blinked rapidly, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his jeans hiding his hardening cock as best as he could.

“An hour ago.” You reassured, unpausing the workout video and positioning yourself in downward dog. 

Jungkook looked up at the ceiling, taking deep breaths following your haggard ones and counted to ten. He couldn’t take it anymore; he needed you. Needed your mouth around him until he was painting the back of your throat white. Counting to ten once wasn’t enough to calm him down. It wasn’t until he was halfway through his third recount that he felt your arms circle around his waist, a faint kiss left underneath his earlobe, that he knew he was done for. 

“I can tell you’re stressed, let me fix that.” You whisper leaving opening mouthed kisses down his neck tonguing the spot between his clavicle and neck. Jungkook’s eyes opened wide, his lips parting in an inaudible sigh. 

“Fuck baby please.” He caved, taking your head in his hands and pushing you away before leaning down and capturing your lips with his, in a wet, messy and needy kiss. He didn’t care that your lips were salty due to the sweat, they felt like heaven against his. 

You moaned into the kiss feeling the wet muscle of his tongue swiping against your bottom lip asking for access, in which you so rightfully gave him. His hand left your cheek and traveled down your neck until it was groping your boob through your thin sports bra. You pulled away to catch your breath for a few seconds, whimpering as his palm worked against your hardened nipple diligently before kissing him again, teeth clattering against one another. 

He pulled away pushing your sports bra up releasing your boobs, his index fingers and thumbs pinching your nipples and pulling on them gently. “Jungkook, w-what do you want?” You moan, closing your eyes as he rolled your nipples between his sweaty palms. Not only did Jungkook love touching your ass, he also loved playing with your boobs, claiming they were the best pair of boobs he had ever seen in his entire twenty six years of life. 

“Get on your knees baby girl, want to see your lips wrapped around me.” He mumbles against the crown of your head while he continues to knead at your boobs. 

You nod kissing the outline of the tattoo that was peeking against the neck of his white t-shirt. You send him a wink. A deep hum leaves his lips as you slowly kissed your way down his clothed chest, until you were face to face with his jean cladded bulge. You looked beautiful, your eyes glossy with need and your mouth watering as you couldn’t wait for the weight of his cock against your tongue.

He puts his hand on the back of your head and pushes your face against his jeans, he was so hard he could feel himself pulsing with need. It didn’t help that your fingers were walking up his thighs at an agonizing pace, while your mouth was now kissing him through the fabric, satisfied hums leaving your lips. “You’re so fucking hard Kook.” You pull away finally unbuttoning his jeans, your fingers brushing against him while you unzip his pants slowly.

“You’re such a tease baby girl, almost makes me think that you want to get punished tonight.” He tilts his head, pushing his hips into your hands as you palmed him over his boxers, while your other hand pushes his jeans down, leaving him in only his t-shirt and black boxers. 

You look up at him smirking, leaning in to kiss the tattoo decorating his thigh. You had gotten off on it many times before, it was your favorite pastime when you were needy and bored. “Maybe I do, take your shirt off.” You demanded, biting down on his skin making him jump. 

He grabs your face, squishing your cheeks making you face him, “Be careful I’m not feeling very nice today.” The sinister look behind his eyes makes you shudder, “open your mouth,” You smile, parting your lips sticking your tongue out before Jungkook leans over, a glob of spit hitting your tongue making you moan in delight. “What do you say?” His grip on your cheeks is hard. 

“Thank you sir.” You mewl, hooking your thumbs underneath the waistband of his boxers, wasting no time in freeing him. His cock was pretty, you had once told him that and it made him double over in laughter. No one had ever called his cock beautiful. Maybe big but never beautiful but you were a character and he should’ve expected a comment like that from you. 

“Good girl, now go on, this is all you’re getting tonight so you better enjoy it.” He wraps his hand around himself, spitting down onto his length using it to lube himself up before guiding it to your slightly parted lips. He knew you loved to watch him touch himself, sometimes if you weren’t home and he was needy he would sit on the couch fucking his hand knowing you would walk at any minute and help him finish the job. Or sit in front of him on the coffee table, legs spread wide touching yourself, moaning his name like his fingers were inside of you instead of yours. If Yoongi knew the dirty escapades that happened behind the walls of the apartment above his tattoo shop he would never step foot inside again. Thankfully he didn’t know, yet. 

You stick your tongue out and lick his head, rolling your nipples against the palm of your hands. The sight was award winning and Jungkook wanted to so badly get his camera out and capture the moment. To add to your shared collection. “So fucking sexy baby girl, always so good for me.” He tapped the head of his cock against your tongue before you close your lips around him, running your tongue underneath the head of his cock. 

Jungkook’s hand came behind your head, guiding you further down his cock sending a thrum of arousal up his spine. You hollow out your cheeks looking up at him with watering eyes. He moans, gripping your ponytail, giving you an experimental thrust making you gag around him. It sounded like the beginning of a beautiful melody, not the ones that belonged to your shitty pop music but the one that would keep you up at night lost in thought. 

“Fuck, your mouth feels like heaven.” He thrusts again, while you tug on the hem of his shirt. “Want to see me, look at my tattoos while I fuck your mouth?” He grunts, quickly discarding his shirt once he hears the needy moan that escapes your cock filled mouth. He knew his tattoos were your ultimate turn on. The reason you had gotten on your knees before him the first time after living together for a full year. He couldn’t say no, not when the only thought running through his mind was the stain your red lipstick would leave behind on his cock. 

Calm him a douchebag or compare him to a hormonal filled teenager, he didn’t care. He was a man after all. One that hadn’t had sex in two years after his last girlfriend cheated on him with his brother. 

Frankly, he needed an ego boost and you were there to give it to him, so he caved.

You pull off of him breathing heavily, a thread of saliva connects your lips to the head of your cock as you try to catch your breath. The sight was anything but underwhelming and enough to make him cum, but Jungkook hated his cum going to waste. He was healthy and young and it should go to good use.

 “I-I want you to use my mouth, please.” You croak before dragging your tongue up and down his shaft. “Want you to cum in my mouth sir.” Mumbling, you tease his head with the tip of your tongue making him groan. 

“Such a dirty mouth, it's a good thing I’m making good use out of it.” He says, a cocky smirk evident on his face. You nod happily, humming with please as you take him into your mouth again, sinking further, hollowing your cheeks moaning around him as you watch his face scrunch up in pleasure. His abs contract as he tries to control himself, at least until you give him the go ahead. And you do with a slight tap of your fingers against his thighs. 

He growls, thrusting his hips into your mouth, guiding your head up and down, gagging around him. His cock feels hot and heavy against your tongue, making both of you moan simultaneously. “Always letting me use you, what would our friends say if they walked in. You know I invited them over for drinks, right?” 

You whimper around him, closing your eyes at the thought of getting caught with him, balls deep down your throat. You hated that he had caught onto your slight voyeurism kink as it was only a matter of time where he threw all tattoo etiquette he knew and lived by out on the window and fucked you in his workshop, with only a thin curtain separating you and the rest of the shop. 

His thrusts get more desperate. His orgasm was approaching quickly as he twitched inside of your mouth. You dig your nails into his thighs, creating crescent moons as you feel your lungs start to give out. He mutters a low fuck followed by a quick apology before he pulls away. You gasp resting your hand against your chest, your eyes are filled with tears, bubbles of saliva painting your chin. Jungkook swears he’s never seen a sight as beautiful as this one and once again he’s cursing himself for not giving himself enough time to grab his camera. 

“Can you go more or do you need a break?” He whispers, eyes filled with concern while he caresses your cheek with his thumb. 

You shake your head, “Just give me time to regain my breath.” With a soft smile you leave a chaste kiss against the tattoo decorating his hip. It was part of a bigger piece, one that adorned the entire right side of his body, but nevertheless for some odd reason it was your favorite one. 

Jungkook nods, wrapping his hand around himself, muffled curses escaping his beautiful lips. “I’m so close, baby girl, just let me cum on your face.” He all but begs, gripping his cock tightly and thrusting his hips into his hand. 

You pout, a sound of protest leaves your swollen lips making Jungkook roll his eyes. “You can blow me again later, open your mouth baby.” He tucks his lips in between his lips, hips casting into his hand desperately. The pool between your legs grows, overflowing as you watch the mesmerizing sight in front of you. God, he was so fucking sexy. 

You open your mouth sticking your tongue. Jungkook throws his head back moaning your name in a sweet incantation, ropes of cum hitting your tongue and cheeks, while you moan along with him. 

Jungkook opens his eyes, riding out his orgasm, painting your chin watching as you drag your tongue into your mouth swallowing his salty substance, humming in satisfaction. “J-Jungkook.” The needy way you say his name makes his cock twitch and he has to keep himself from getting hard again. 

“You look so pretty baby girl, so fucked out and pretty, only for me.” He whispers, collecting the cum that was dripping down your chin with his thumb before bringing it up your lips, coating them. “So filthy too, thank you baby.” He leans down, running his tongue against your cheek collecting his cum before kissing you slowly and sensually, pushing his tongue inside of your mouth, coating the inside with his cum. 

Jungkook hates his cum going to waste. You whimper, snaking your arms around his neck pulling him closer, sucking on his tongue. He grins against your lips and moves away, chuckling as you continue to chase his lips with yours. “I need you Kookie.” You sigh, a pout forming on your swollen lips. “Please just fuck me, use me. I don’t care anymore.” You let out a sob, your pussy throbbing begging to be touched. 

He helps you up, circling his arms around your waist, nosing your hair as he sighs. He wants to give him, lead you to the couch, but the guys were going to be here at any minute and he couldn’t have time to please you the way he wanted to. 

“Let’s go shower, I promise the second the guys leave I’ll eat you out like a starved man.” He suggests, leaving a light kiss against your forehead. He didn’t feel as stressed as he was earlier, but that’s all thanks to you and how easy it was for him to get lost in your world.

“Is that a promise?” You tilt your head curiously, toying with the hair resting against the back of his neck.  

“I always keep promises, baby girl.”

[phoenixyfriend]

Re; Ahsoka and Quinlan being the same age, now I'm picturing Ahsoka, Quinlan, and Rex eventually ending up in a weird sorta thruple where Quinlan comes in and out of the relationship but the door is kinda always open for him? And Rex spends a lot of mornings eyeing the tangle of orange and brown skin on the other side of the bed like he has no idea how he ended up here but he's (mostly) okay with that tbh

Context: Commander Buir in chronological order

YES okay so this is wild to me that people are invested in this but like half the time-travel fics with Ahsoka in the same age-group as Quinlan have me wondering if I should ship them. Let me just. Ho shit.

So, okay, I've explored a lot of possible dynamics but there's something really engaging about how Quinlan, trained as a Shadow before the Sith came back, could react to a War Padawan. Ahsoka isn't really infiltration material yet, she's very much a frontline fighter, but she's got a lot more experience with a kind of consistent dark atmosphere that most Jedi don't. They get exposed to plenty of dark stuff, sure, but not the kind of all-encompassing "this is my life for the last two years" thing that is usually reserved for the long-term field agents like Shadows and Watchmen.

The War Padawans, for all that they were supposed to be just normal Jedi Padawans, were living in the kind of consistently negative environment that's normally experienced by those Knighted Sentinels.

So Ahsoka, while still generally pretty young in these AUs, is a very odd kind of person to be around, because she's spunky and vivacious and snippy and affectionate and snarky and knows how to break every bone in your body from harrowing experience as the only thing standing between death and thousands of brothers.

And Quinlan, I imagine, really likes that about her. She gets it, and she's still an energetic and loving and trying to do her best to be a good person despite everything. He gravitates towards her and she... well, she's not blind. She can tell he's interested. And she's not upset about that.

ANYWAY, ONTO REX

So, Rex is... technically twelve. He hasn't exactly got a whole lot of experience with romance. He is also, up until the point of time-travel, legal property of the Senate and the Jedi Order, which means that Ahsoka, or at least her community, owns him. He was indoctrinated to serve her and that community. She also outranks him, for all that she usually lets him take the lead in the field due to experience. He's older than her physically and maturity-wise, but she's also had a grow-up-faster-than-you-should adolescence, and she has superpowers.

What I'm saying is, the power dynamic is fucked up.

(Unironically I spent hours last night realizing that it balances out a lot more than C*dywan does, which I'm censoring because by god do I not want discourse on this post. I like both ships, and don't want to argue about what's the most problematic. It's Star Wars. The only unproblematic ships are Bail/Breha and Owen/Beru.)

Here's the thing, though, because the main thing people seem to argue here is the age/maturity difference as a problem area:

The age difference in actual time is four years, which is smaller than the two main ships of the franchise (Han/Leia and Padme/Anakin, to be clear). The age difference in maturity is ??? We'll say that the clones started aging normally after they hit twenty, so the age difference in maturity is six years... which is still normal for SW ships.

(This is why I don't have any issues with the ship in a post-O66 context, once they've had a few years to move past the traumas and whatnot. The age stuff all evens out with time, they're a good team, and neither was grooming the other. It's not objectively any more problematic than most SW ships at that point, and I'm okay with that. They deserve to be happy if they want.)

But they get yanked away from all that structure of who owns what, who reports where, who has which rank, who's legally a person in the eyes of the Republic when they end up on Dagobah. Once they've registered when they are, the only remaining complications are:

He grew up in a cultlike environment and was indoctrinated to serve her (but has been replacing that indoctrination with genuine respect and affection for her as a person because they've worked together for two years).

She has superpowers (contextually not a big problem: we see several Force-Sensitive/Non-Sensitive ships that don't consider those powers a complicating element)

He's several years younger than her (canonically less of an issue than it could be: Cut got married and has kids) and has next to no experience with what a normal romance looks like except for hanging out on the edges of whatever the fuck his General has going on with the Senator

She's several years less mature than he is (...something of an issue)

So a lot of this is mostly okay. She feels weird about the fact that she's got more knowledge of romance and all that it entails. He feels weird about the fact that, despite her being older, he looks at her and sees someone that's still a little young, not quite a shiny. Except she is older than him, and he's seen her behead four people in a single move, and they've saved each other's lives more times than either of them can count anymore. He respects her, and the fact that she's babyfaced doesn't change the fact that, in terms of who they are as people and warriors, they're on a level playing field.

She still looks at him and mourns his lost childhood, and he still looks at her and takes a moment to see past the too-big eyes and adolescent proportions.

But they really, really care about each other, and maybe part of them is starting to recognize that there's a bit of a crush before they time-travel, but neither one wants to make a move. There's a lot of baggage on both sides, a lot of "but they're a child" and "but they're (literally vs functionally) below me in the chain of command, I can't take advantage of that" and all that fun stuff. It's the kind of situation where two people circle each other for ages without making a move, because actually making that move is terrifying on account of not knowing whether the other party knows they can say no, on top of the usual "what if it ruins our friendship?" thing.

What happens on Dagobah, though... is very tropey. They're sort of stranded until Ahsoka can fix the ship, and that takes time. The area is also very heavy with the Force, dense and heady with the energy it carries, and it's... actually really not great for Ahsoka. She keeps feeling like she's back on Mortis, and has nightmares from the trigger there, but also keeps hallucinating because she wasn't ready for the thickness of the energy (like Yoda) or still new enough to the Force that she couldn't feel how dense it all was (like Luke). She can't work on the engines as constantly as she'd like to get them out of there, and while Rex is a competent mechanic, he's not as skilled with it as the girl who jumped headfirst into lessons with Anakin.

Rex spends a lot of time holding Ahsoka and wiping her brow with a wet cloth while she's feverish and out of it. Yes we're going full Florence Nightingale romance here, let me have my fun.

They get the communications relay working earlier than the engine, find out the year is wrong, panic a bit. All is well. (It's not, but they're holding it together for now.)

Ahsoka keeps working on the engine when she's lucid. Rex keeps hunting up game and edible plants for them while she does. They cuddle at night, because it's not cold but it is empty of the people they care about, and they kind of want that reassurance of someone they trust and love at their back.

(Morai visits.)

(Daughter shows up in the nightmares, tells Ahsoka that age will not come for her beloved until the time is natural for it. The phrasing is dumb but she does manage to convey that the accelerated aging is no longer an issue, if it even was after they hit adulthood. Ahsoka is relieved.)

And, you know, emotions happen. She takes his hand while they're leaning up against each other. He kisses her forehead while she's having a bad spell. They cook together and tell jokes to keep sane and spar. They hug each other through nightmares and panic attacks. There is much blushing. There is much cuddling.

Once, they kiss.

They break apart, flushing and stammering and being very awkward about the whole thing, and make excuses to leave and panic about the fact that they!! Kissed!!!!!

A couple hours later they find each other again, and have a long and complicated discussion about why they like each other (war makes bedfellows, there's trust and affection and all that fun stuff) and why they're hesitant (age stuff, maturity stuff, prior indoctrination), and make the decision to take it slow. They cuddle, and kiss, and blush a lot because both of them are basically just dumb teens having their first real relationship.

They eventually leave the planet, make it to Coruscant, etc. It takes a bit for anyone except Obi-Wan to realize that something's changed between them. Most people didn't know them before, and Anakin's observation skills are currently at a very low ebb. But they sit together and hold hands, and flirt when they spar, and once or twice people find them kissing (both standard and Keldabe) in a corner while holding hands and then just smiling at each other like loons.

They end up rooming together because nobody has the heart to separate them after hearing about all the war stuff. Like yes attachment's bad, but these two do seem to understand loss of loved ones and recognize that they could lose each other at any time and death is natural and they won't lose their entire shit about it, and if even General Kenobi is anxious as hell about being separated from the people he fought side-by-side with for two years, then maybe it's just... really normal for those two to want each other's company, and everyone can just turn a blind eye to the romance happening.

They share a bed, but they only ever sleep in it. Like, there's some goodnight kisses and cuddles, but everything is very G-rated until they've had time to settle into being true equals instead of just the "well, I guess the power dynamics balance out? Maybe?" of before.

And just... yeah. Rex does not believe that he's in this good of a position whenever he has the time to think about it. He's got a girlfriend! A really pretty, smart, strong, skilled one! Who thinks he's a cool dude! How the fuck did a clone like him manage that? He wasn't even legally a person a year ago, how did he end up in bed with one of the most amazing people he's ever met? He spends multiple nights just staring at her while he tries to fall asleep, asking himself how he got here and just like... marveling at her. She's worth marveling at. He's in love and she's amazing and he has no idea how to handle it at all.

...yeah no I have a lot of feelings now.

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

that makes four.

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PART 4

Tristan had slapped his menu shut before you could even sit down. He’d been begging you to try a new place in Encino with him, you figured it was a good excuse to get Zoey out of the house and to let Maeve and CeCe duke it out in Shelli and Irv’s backyard instead of yours.

It was all work talk at first, he offered an update on a meeting you missed to drop off Maeve at a friend’s and Zoey sucked down a glass of wine promising to pump and dump before the night ended.

But now your plates were in front of you and you twirled spaghetti around your fork when she asked: “How’s your pool boy?” You stared up at her, unimpressed.

“He’s not my pool boy, and he’s fine.”

Tristan raised his eyebrows across the table. “Would you let Harry Styles be your pool boy?”

“Can we not talk about him like this, please?”

“Oh come on,” Tristan pulled a face. “If you’re not going to sleep with him at least let us fantasize.”

You must have twitched, a quick glance in Zoey’s direction or a quiver of your lip. Zoey leaned in and her voice was serious. “What was that?”

“What? Nothing.”

“What do you mean what was that?” Tristan asked.

“She made a weird face when you said that.”

“No I didn’t,” you defended. “I just don’t like talking about him in public, especially like this.”

“Bullshit,” Zoey laughed, leaned back in her chair. “What are you not telling us? Did you see him shirtless again?”

You let out a breath, wiped at your mouth and wondered if telling them would be the biggest mistake of your life. You couldn’t even get the words out before Zoey leaned in.

“You had sex with him?!” her eyes nearly bugged out of her head, Tristan’s fork clanked against his plate when his jaw dropped open.

You’d made it a whole week, almost. You pushed the thoughts down and brushed them under the metaphorical work rug. The body wash prototypes were in, you were booking models to do a photoshoot, video shoot, everything was getting lined up for the rollout in another few weeks. You didn’t have time to tell them about something silly and stupid and maybe a part of you didn’t want to fill them in because you were afraid they’d burst your bubble. It’ll never work out, what happens when his house is ready, he has a tour to go on.

“Be quiet,” you looked around and worried if anyone had overheard Tristan’s not-so-subtle name drop. “It’s not a big deal, okay? It’s not like it’s gonna be a regular thing.”

Tristan pulled his head back, offended by your words. “You had sex with him and you’re not going to make that a regular thing? Have you seen him?”

“Yes,” you made a face at Tristan. “I have seen him.”

“You are going to hit and quit Harry Styles?” Zoey leaned in and said his name much more quietly now.

“Well,” you dropped their gaze for a second, reluctant to be honest with them in fear of their reaction. “It’s happened once, and then we kissed once but CeCe came down, but she didn’t see anything. I’m just too old to be hooking up with a twenty-four year old.”

“Wait, okay, slow down. When did this happen?” Zoey asked.

“After my birthday dinner,” you shrugged. “We came home, had wine, the girls were out.”

“And when did you make out with him aside from that night?”

“The next night. And we didn’t make out, it was barely even open-mouthed.”

“Ew,” Tristan grimaced.

Zoey snapped to get your attention. “So twenty-four hours after you had sex, you kissed him?”

You made a face at her, unsure where she was going with it. You hadn’t been clocking or documenting your sexual encounters. “I don’t know, probably.”

“This is straight out of a trashy romance book written for middle aged women,” Tristan leaned back in his seat and took a pull from his glass of rosé. “I mean that in, like, a nice way.”

“Okay,” Zoey leaned forward. “So, nothing has happened since a week ago, then?”

“No,” you shook your head quickly. “Just those times. And I don’t think anything should happen again.”

They both groaned at the same time, Zoey’s shoulders sunk and she rolled her eyes. “You deserve to have sex with a hot guy.”

“I never said I didn’t.”

“Even if he’s younger than you.”

“I don’t want to traumatize my children.”

“Well you don’t have to have sex in front of them,” Tristan made a goofy face and you waved him off.

Zoey snorted out a laugh but you ignored their immaturity.

“I mean that having Harry here is already probably confusing for them, right? Their dad leaves, their grandpa dies, now we have some stranger in our house and he’s playing with them in the backyard and--”

“Being more of a dad to them than Luke ever was?”

Zoey’s words brought a sigh out from between your lips. “Exactly.”

“Having a positive male role model is good for them,” Tristan said.

“Sure,” you nodded. “But what about when Harry moves out? He’ll just be another man that will leave them. They’ll be super fucked up.”

Tristan reached forward and took your hand in his. “Hey--it’s more about the fact that they have you and they have other people who love them. Who cares if their idea of a family isn’t the stereotypic, heterosexual norm?”

“I know,” you relented. “I just don’t want them to be poorly adjusted.”

“Okay, that sounds like something an obnoxious prep school guidance counselor would say to you,” Zoey eyed you with skepticism.

You shrugged your shoulders. “It was Maeve’s teacher.”

“Okay, fuck that teacher!” Tristan nodded. “Your kids are adjusting, and that’s because of how good of a mom you are to them. And mommy deserves a pool boy.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, even if his words were worthy of an eye-roll. Zoey tried not to let wine drip from her nose after a snort escaped between sips.

“Not my pool boy!” You giggled.

“Which is good,” Tristan nodded, his tone completely serious. “That would be so cliché even Nora Roberts wouldn’t write it.”

**

Slumber parties always made you anxious. They were one of those things that made you question how on earth people trusted you to watch a group of children when sometimes, you still felt like one yourself.

Maeve’s 11th birthday party was no exception. Five other girls danced around your living room and CeCe sat at the counter while you iced cupcakes. Her little face was scrunched into a pout so intensely that it almost made you giggle.

“You alright?” You asked her, dish towel over your shoulder when she let out another sigh.

“Just wish I could play with them,” she held her palms towards the sky in exasperation, reaching for a container of sprinkles when you let out a laugh.

“You get to go for ice cream with Uncle Jeff, remember? You’re gonna go to the beach, too, I think.”

You’d been trying to bribe her all week: a new tutu, a new doll, anything she wanted just to make her give up and accept the fact that her older sister didn’t want her at her slumber party.

And you couldn’t blame either of them. Of course Maeve didn’t want her younger (and very loud, dramatic, and demanding) younger sister trailing behind all night. But, on the other hand, of course CeCe felt left out when she saw all of the older girls arrive with their sleeping bags and birthday gifts.

She sighed again, your conversation interrupted by a ringing from your cell phone on the counter beside her.

“Uncle Jeff?”

She was right, you reached for the phone and held it up with your shoulder, hoping the laughter from the living room wouldn’t travel it’s way into the speaker.

“Hi--are you here?”

“Y/N, I am so sorry to do this--”

“Oh god, Jeff, no!”

“I just got called into the office because one of my artists apparently just posted some stupid shit on the internet--isn’t there someone else who can hang out with CeCe? Where’s Tristan?”

“I don’t know where he is, but I doubt he’d be thrilled to play dress up or skip through a park.”

“Zoey?”

You could hear traffic through his line, his karma for backing out at the last minute was having to sit on the 405. “She has a ten-week-old infant, Jeffrey.”

“Well where’s Harry? Can’t he pitch in?”

You let out a groan, CeCe had taken to pouring sprinkles into her hand and lapping them up with her tongue.

Harry was upstairs, hiding away from the girl gang currently singing karaoke and sipping on juice boxes. He had the day off and had dipped out in the afternoon to meet a friend for lunch. You tried to mind your own business--he could come and go as he pleased and just because you had slept with him once didn’t give you the right to suddenly start asking questions about his plans.

But the universe pitied you, apparently, because right when you told Jeff you’d figure it out and hung up on him aggressively, Harry pranced down the stairs and headed for the fridge.

“How’s it going down here?” He reached for a juice box, crisp apple, and fumbled with the straw when he turned to face you.

“Everyone is alive and nothing is broken,” you scanned the counter, another batch of cupcakes still in the oven with 10 minutes to go.

With the straw now between his lips, he raised his eyebrows. “Bar’s that low, huh?”

“Well, your friend Jeffrey just bailed on watching CeCe and going for ice cream.”

She was blissfully unaware of the change of plans, still licking sprinkles out of her palm, but now swiveled around on the stool to watch the girls jump around in the other room.

“I can take her,” he shrugged nonchalantly, ran a hand through his hair when you stared at him for a second.

If traffic was Jeff’s karma, Harry must have been yours.

“Are you serious? You wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” he smiled. “CeCe? What do you say we do ice cream and pizza?”

She turned around at the sound of her name, her eyes lit up. “Pepperoni?” She asked.

“Of course,” Harry replied to her like it was a crazy question.

“Is Uncle Jeff coming?”

“He’s not,” You informed her, arms crossed over your chest. “You’re alright to go with Harry?”

You didn’t mean to make it awkward, but mom mode kicked in and you realized CeCe had never spent time alone with Harry except maybe in the backyard.

“Yeah!” She hopped down from the stool and grinned up at him. “Can I get a milkshake?”

Harry looked over to you and when you nodded, he held out his hand. “As many as you want.”

“That’s not what I said,” you called after him, watching as he led her over to the back door. He plucked his keys off the hook on the wall and smiled at you over his shoulder. “Please don’t be out late, text me when you get where you’re going!”

CeCe shouted a bye mommy!!!! before they disappeared into the driveway. A sudden raise in your pulse had you questioning what type of mother lets their 6-year-old get in the car with a pop star who’s probably hounded by paparazzi and maybe even doing cocaine on the weekends.

You picked up your phone and it rang four times before Zoey answered. “I need you to talk me off the ledge.”

“What ledge?”

The timer beeped and you gloved up to retrieve the rest of the cupcakes. “I’m apparently a psychopath because I just let Harry take CeCe for pizza and ice cream.”

You could tell she held back a laugh. “Why does that make you a psychopath?”

“Because he’s a stranger! What if he never comes back with her? What if he gets chased by paparazzi and CeCe is the next Princess Diana?!” The thought shuttered through your bones, a shiver down your spine when Zoey cleared her throat.

“Okay, so, as a mom, I totally get that. But I also think you’re freaking out too much.”

The cupcake tin rattled onto the granite. “How?!”

“He’s not a stranger, he’s been living with you guys for like, over a month now.”

You thought about it for a second. Two weeks turned into a few more, four weeks slipped by easily. What felt like it was going to be a blip on the radar now felt like a totally normal thing: dinners with him as the fourth seat and texts to him in the middle of the day asking if there was anything he was in the mood for.

“I just can’t believe I trust him enough to do that, I guess.”

“Y/N, he’s a good guy,” she laughed. “He likes your kids and he definitely likes you.”

“We’re not going there,” you said. “I have a house full of ten-year-olds and cupcakes to frost.”

“Okay, well, you’re not a psychopath. And there’s nothing wrong with having feelings for him.”

“Zoey! You are starting to sound like the psychopath!”

“I’m alright with that,” laughter through the phone when you told her you had to go. Love you, see you later, pinch Benny’s cheeks for me.

You were swept up in the excitement of the night. Your own pizza was delivered before 8pm, a movie turned on by 9pm. They decorated cupcakes at the dining room table and proceeded to eat more than they could fit in their tummies.

Maeve was in heaven, opened presents when you snapped pictures on your phone. Harry had texted to let you know they’d stop at Shelli and Irv’s before heading home. If CeCe came home in the middle of presents, she’d probably break down right there.

So when you heard the alarm signal a new entry, you hoped CeCe was too tired to argue with you about sleeping in her own room and not in Maeve’s with the rest of them. Your legs were folded beneath you on the couch, noise in the kitchen when Harry rounded the corner with CeCe asleep on his shoulder.

You stood up, eyebrows high when he smirked in your direction. “She’s out cold,” he laughed. “Fell right asleep on the way home.”

“It’s like a ten minute drive from their house,” you said, opening your arms to take her. “Sorry, here.”

“I can bring her up...just lead the way,” he motioned with his head for you to go first up the stairs. He followed you down the hall and to CeCe’s room, pink walls and a plush carpet underneath her twin-sized bed that still seemed too big for her.

He put her down when you flipped on a nightlight, watched when you tugged the duvet over her and kissed her on the forehead. You sighed when you stood up straight beside him, voice quiet. “I’m not waking her up to brush her teeth cause she’ll freak out and want to be included in the party. Am I a bad mom?”

He crossed his arms over his chest, smirked down at you quickly before looking back to her. “You’re a great mom.”

You elbowed him in the ribs playfully. “You have to say that.”

“I do?”

“I’m your landlord,” you laughed, leading him back into the hallway.

“I thought you were my friend?”

A sigh, the darkness a cover for your confusion and your fluttering heart beat. “Yeah, that too.”

He was quiet for a second, if it weren’t for the bedroom of kids down the hall you’d pull him into you despite better judgment. He stared down at you with a dimpled smile, but you took a step back.

“Thanks for taking her, and hanging out with her. You really didn’t have to.”

“I had fun,” he reassured you. “We got a pizza and ate in a park near Westwood Hills, then got ice cream, visited with Shelli and Irv,” he listed it off like it brought him as much joy as it did her.

“Hey, not to be weird or anything, but--how’s your house coming?”

He sensed the shift in the air too, but he didn’t know that it came from a place of fear. A question you had to ask: this was temporary, this wasn’t real, this was just a convenient set up and you couldn’t lose sight of that.

“Oh, yeah--I’m going over on Sunday to see it. Apparently there are still issues with the plumbing that have to be updated. They said it might be a few more weeks.”

“Okay, I just didn’t know.”

“Yeah, is that okay? I can try to find somewhere to stay if you need me out?”

“No,” you said it quickly. “I don’t need you to leave.”

“Okay,” he said, his eyes still on yours. He reached forward to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. “I like staying here with you guys.”

“...I like it too.”

“Mom?” Maeve’s head poked out of her bedroom. “Hayley spilled soda on the carpet!”

He stepped back from you quickly, like his reflexes were getting better each time. You laughed at his sudden movement, “coming!”

He smiled down at you and let out an exaggerated sigh once Maeve’s door was slammed shut and the music was back on, a magnetic pull between your chests that maybe he felt too. “Hayley, Hayley, Hayley.”

But again, a rush of uncertainty and self-doubt made you grateful for the interruption, your stomach weaving itself in knots when you stared at your ceiling fan and hoped that sleep would come.

Work picked up in the next week, Tristan was in your office most days with spreadsheets and graphs and to-do lists that made you feel like you needed a margarita at 2pm. On Wednesday Harry made dinner and CeCe had a meltdown when you forced her to take a bath.

Friday night entailed dinner at Shelli and Irv’s, the girls and Harry and Jeff too. You stood in the kitchen with a glass of wine in hand, Shelli watched as their chef sautéed something through steam. When Jeff pulled Harry away to show him a new guitar Irv had been gifted, you ignored the smile on Shelli’s face.

“How are things going?”

“Fine,” you said, casually and calm and cool. “How are you?”

“Y/N,” she smiled. “Does Jeffrey know?”

“Know what?”

“About you and Harry?”

“No,” you told her quickly. “There’s nothing to know, alright? We were drunk, it was not a big deal.”

“Alright,” she held up a hand, effectively resigning when she sipped her Pinot Grigio, a disappointed sigh before she asked: “How are the girls holding up?”

You sighed, unsure if she’d really drop it. You told her about Maeve’s birthday party and caught her up on the body wash debut. Deadlines were quickly approaching, the launch party was being scheduled and production was full steam ahead.

You almost thought you’d make it through the rest of the night without any drama--no more mention of Harry or the happenings between you. But eventually he and Jeff found their way back to the kitchen and you hoped that no one noticed how close Harry stood to you.

Jeff was in the middle of filling you and Shelli in on Harry’s album plans: they were wrapping up production and soon they’d announce the release date, his excitement cut off by a shout from the backyard.

“Mommy!” CeCe’s voice was shrill and desperate as it rang through the house. She let out a loud sob and when you looked up, you saw her clutching her elbow with a new grass stain on her shirt. She was fine, it was one of those moments where she thought the world was ending but everyone else knew getting knocked over by her sister wouldn’t kill her.

“She’s fine,” Maeve rolled her eyes, a quick look down to CeCe who’s eyes were already filled with tears.

“No I’m not!” she screamed back at her sister.

You looked to Shelli with an exasperated look, set your glass of wine down on the counter. Before you could make any movement, though, Harry’s hand hovered on the small of your back. “I’ll go, enjoy the wine. She’s fine.”

He was right, there was no question that CeCe would survive her scraped elbow and bruised ego. He moved towards the backyard and you were frozen in place when Jeff’s forehead wrinkled.

“What was that?” he asked, eyebrows strung together like tea lights once Harry was out of earshot.

“I don’t know--what do you mean?”

You looked over at Harry, now on the ground in front of CeCe who’s wails were much quieter. She wiped at her wet eyes, a little laugh escaped her lips when Harry brushed the grass off of her elbow and cracked a joke.

“Well, he seems pretty good with them,” Jeff leaned against the counter, the sliding door providing a perfect view as CeCe stood up and raced back towards Maeve.

“Yeah, I mean, he is.”

“He also touched your back in a funny way.”

Shelli raised her eyebrows and sipped at her wine again.

“And now my mom is making a weird face,” Jeff’s eyes narrowed when he looked at you. “Are you--is there, like, something going--”

“No,” you said quickly, a finger pointed at Shelli and another pointed at Jeff. “Do not say anything in front of the girls.”

Shelli stifled a laugh but managed to look incredibly innocent at the same time.

“Oh my god!” Jeff said this with a noise of shock, eyes wide when he looked between you and Shelli, then back out to the yard where Harry laughed with Irv. “Oh my god, and you knew?”

Shelli shrugged her shoulders, a don’t blame me look crossed her face when you took a swig of wine to calm the pounding of your heart.

Jeff had always been protective and caring and like a brother. Not in a weird way, not in the you can’t date my friends way. Just in the sense that he wanted to know who you were hooking up with and he’d been encouraging you relentlessly to stop picking assholes ever since you filed for divorce.

But this was different, this was a friend of his and a client of his. It was someone that his entire family knew and this was probably the worst choice of rebound.

“Please relax,” you said this with a look of warning in his direction. “I will explain to you what your lunatic mother is smirking about but you have about fifteen seconds to wipe the look of shock off your face before he comes back in here.”

“She’s fine,” Harry waved a hand once he was back in the kitchen. “And what look of shock are we wiping off of our faces?” The dimple was there again, the corner of his mouth pulled up and he scanned all three of you for any sort of information.

“Just that you are so good with the girls,” Jeff covered for you, a confident nod when he hoped Harry would believe him.

“That’s surprising to you?” Harry pulled his head back, an obvious look of mock offense. “I’m great with children. They love me.”

Maeve came in from the fading light, out of breath from running around with whatever ball they’d gotten their hands on. “Who loves you?”

“Kids,” Jeff replied for him.

“Oh,” Maeve said. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?” You looked down at her, unsure if she was agreeing or just voicing that she understood.

She shrugged, plucked a chicken skewer from a dish in front of Shelli. “I mean, I like having him around.”

Harry was practically tickled pink. “Thank you, Maeve.” He turned to rub this in Jeff’s face. “See?”

“He cooks well, plays outside with us, definitely funnier than mom,” Maeve kept listing things off, pulling laughter from the rest of the crew.

“Maeve!” You whined. “I’m funny!”

“You’re like, sometimes funny.”

“Sometimes funny is better than never funny,” Harry nodded in your direction, an attempt to soften the blow.

CeCe had wandered in behind her sister, she picked at the scrape on her elbow until you called her attention. “CeCe--do you think mommy’s funny?”

“Mmmm,” the thought on it for a second, put her finger to her chin and scrunched up her nose. “Sort of.”

Jeff let out a big laugh at that, Harry tried to stifle one and you dismissed the jabs. “Okay, well, it’s not like anyone here is a comedian.”

“Harry’s funny,” CeCe said with a smile. “He reads books in silly voices.”

Jeff’s eyebrows shot up at that again, amused and surprised by the fact that Harry was in on the bedtime routine. But it was infrequent, sometimes CeCe would beg for more time outside or another thirty minutes of TV.

If the tears got aggressive or the tantrum became too much, she perked up pretty quickly if Harry offered to read with her. It was way more exciting than reading with you, Maeve had explained.

After showering Harry with compliments, the girls were excited to sit on Shelli and Irv’s patio. Pink lemonade and a delicious dinner, though neither of them would even so much as take a bit of your salad.

They ran around some more while you sipped wine, Jeff and Harry had been talked into a two versus two soccer match and Irv laughed his head off when Maeve actually scored on Jeff. Darkness came and CeCe crawled into your lap, eyelids getting heavy until you buckled her into the backseat.

You’d taken one car, CeCe’s booster seat was too clunky to move over to Harry’s so you drove and felt slightly embarrassed about the crayons and coloring books scattered on the floor of the backseat.

“Mom, can I have another sleepover this weekend?”

“With who?”

“All of the girls from last weekend.”

“Honey, no, that was a big party for your birthday.”

“I’m aware,” she shot back quickly. “But we all had so much fun and we wouldn’t be as loud as we were last time.”

“I said no, Maeve. You can do something with your friends if you want but we’re not doing another sleepover right now.”

You’d been hesitant about it in the first place. A group of ten and eleven-year-olds? With Harry in the house? It felt like a recipe for disaster and aside from a few excited stares when they were first dropped off, you all escaped relatively unscathed.

You worried at first about the whispers from other moms--she’s letting a twenty-four year-old live with her children?--but you soon realized that they were almost more excited about sneaking a glimpse of Harry than their daughters were.

“You’re so annoying,” she quipped from the back. “You never let me do anything fun.”

Harry’s lips twitched up in a tiny smirk, a sideways glance in your direction. You’d already told him how awkward it felt to discipline them with him right there, a glass of wine in the kitchen one night and he teased you about your frustrated mom voice.

“Maeve--don’t be rude. You just had a birthday party and now you want another, basically.”

“No, I want to have the same girls over. It’s not my birthday so it’s not a birthday party.”

A left turn into the driveway. “But you want me to order pizza and make cupcakes and you want to drink a bunch of soda again?”

“Yes.”

You pulled into the garage and cut the engine, turning to look at her. “Maeve, sweetie, I love you. But no.”

She let out a huff and shoved the door open, she typed in the entry code and slammed the door to the house before the rest of you could even climb out.

“The drama,” CeCe shook her head, tired steps towards the house.

“The drama is right,” you told her with a laugh. “Go wash up and I’ll come up in a few, okay?”

She scampered up the steps, you dropped your keys on the counter inside and then turned to look at him. “Do you have a second?”

He nodded, leaned on the counter. “What’s up?”

You didn't know if it was a good idea, but you'd spent enough morning drives to school lecturing about how honest is the best policy, so you figured you'd give it a shot.

“Uh, well--Jeff may or may not be suspicious about you and...me.”

Using the phrase made you nervous, like he’d laugh and think it was stupid. You and me.

“Oh,” he said, eyebrows arched. “Did you--why did that come up?”

“Well you went to handle my crying child, which is--you know--”

He laughed a little, “too boyfriendy of me?”

Your heartbeat picked up in pace, your face felt hot and it suddenly felt like he was watching you too closely.

“No--I don’t know--you touched my back and he just asked what was happening.”

He deflated at that, hung his head low for a second and then looked up. “Oh, I--uh--I’m really sorry, I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

“No!” You felt bad, that wasn’t the message you were trying to convey. If anything, you wanted to give him the out and the okay that he didn’t have to do this. He didn’t have to step into your family like some hero for you or your daughters. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable, I just--I don’t know where you are at, I guess.”

“And now Jeff is asking questions,” he laughed, a nod like he knew where you were going with it.

There was no label necessary. It wasn’t that type of thing, you knew that. “That’s what you walked in on after CeCe got hurt.”

Another nod, like the puzzle pieces were fitting into place. “Right. Got it. Was he--how did he seem? Did you tell him that we--”

“He put it together,” you cut him off, again careful of the words used around the girls even though they were upstairs and--by the sound of it--bickering in the bathroom. “But he was fine with it. I just think we need to be careful, you know. The girls...and this is temporary, and--”

“Absolutely.”

“So, you know, just--”

“Yeah.”

An awkward silence. “I should go tuck them in.” You turned on your feet and headed for the stairs before he could reply, desperate to get out of the situation out of fear of having to find more words to string together in a messy jumble of emotions.

Another slammed door from Maeve when you reached the top of the stairs. You knocked twice. “Can I come in, please?”

“No!”

“Maeve,” you leaned against the doorframe. Harry came up and offered an awkward smile. “Please let me talk to you.”

“I’m not talking to you!” She shouted.

Harry came over and knocked. “Maeve? It’s Harry--can I come in?”

Silence for a second, her footsteps were audible on the wood floor. The door opened a crack, she peered out with narrowed eyes. “Fine--but not her.”

You looked over at Harry, unsure of his game plan but also fed up with the theatrics and the overreaction. He shrugged his shoulders half-apologetically, a smirk in your direction before he slipped into the room.

Did you stay and listen? Was it weird? What would he even say to her?

You decided against it, headed for your own bedroom and tugged on pajamas after you flicked on CeCe’s night light and kissed her goodnight. At least only one of them was being dramatic today.

Five minutes passed, then ten. You tried not to look at the clock and focused instead on a book Zoey had told you was a must read.

Eventually there was a knock on your door, Harry pushed it open and smiled. “Do you want some intel?”

“Duh,” you said. “Come in.”

He walked forward and sat on your bed, a sigh when he brought his eyes to yours again. “Well, she said you’re annoying again.”

“Of course.”

“She’s just grumpy. Said Hayley wanted to have a sleepover this weekend because it would be better at her house.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “Some 5th grade rivalry.”

“Classic, really.”

You laughed. “Was she okay talking to you?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, eyebrows low on his forehead. “Opened right up.”

“Well, we do know she likes you more.”

He rolled his eyes. “She just likes that I’m not you.”

“Feels like that’s the same thing.”

Quiet for a moment when he angled towards you, scanned your face with his eyes.

“I guess I’ll go say goodnight.”

“Oh, I tucked her in.”

Your mouth tugged into a smirk. “You what?”

“She said she didn’t want you to come in.”

“So you tucked her in?”

He let out a laugh, explained the process like it should have been obvious. “Yeah--pulled up the blanket. Patted her on the head. She said she brushed her teeth.”

You leaned back against the headboard, the same buzzing feeling in your chest took flight when he asked: “why is it so shocking to everyone that I’m good with them?”

It slipped out before you could think of the possible consequences. “Because you’re young.”

“I’m not that young.”

“And Luke was just--not like that. He was pretty disinterested after CeCe was born.” You hoped this was enough of a redirection.

“You’re really caught up on my age, aren’t you?”

“No.”

He raised his eyebrows and offered a look that said: bullshit. When he didn’t speak, you cracked a joke.

“Or...you are not hung up enough on how old I am.”

“Why should I care how old you are?”

“Cause you’ve had sex with me and you’re living in my house.”

“Both of those things I am aware of. And feel really good about both of them.”

You let out a laugh at his nonchalance, folded your arms over your chest when he stood up. “You’re something else.”

“I’m not,” you disagreed.

“I think you are,” he nodded, leaned closer to you and offered a challenging glare. His hair was messy, he’d been running around in the backyard with them at Shelli and Irv’s, a few glasses of wine in him seemed to loosen him right up to the point that he was ready to slide tackle your six-year-old.

He watched you for a second, almost like he was waiting for you to stop him. You didn’t, though, you wanted him to kiss you just as much as it looked like he wanted to close to the distance between your chests.

Instead of telling him you shouldn’t, instead of telling him that the girls were down the hall and this was risky, you pulled him on top of you, tugged him by the t-shirt until he flopped down on your bed with a laugh against your lips.

He lifted himself up after a clumsy moment, looked down at you and smirked.

“What?” You asked playfully.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been so turned on by someone in my whole life.”

His words circled around you, pulled your body up to melt into his when his hand cupped your face. He laced his fingers through the hair along your neck, the warmth from his body made your pulse rise with each second.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this when they’re home?”

If the dimples on his cheeks weren’t enough, if the way his tattoos littered his skin wasn’t enough, if the look in his eyes right now on top of you was not enough to create a full-on mom fantasy in your head, the way he talked about your daughters was.

“Yeah,” you tugged him back against your mouth, felt the way your hips tilted against his without any thought. His hands moved to your wrists, holding them in place when he trailed his lips down your jaw, down your neck, pressing kisses in a line along your collarbone.

His hands were warm when they grazed your hips, connecting with skin beneath the fabric of your shirt. You grasped for the hem of his and tugged it over his head in a quick motion, eager to reconnect and feel his skin against yours.

He tasted like wine and smelled like summer, yanked your panties down to your ankles and used his fingers to pull quiet gasps from you like no one had ever before. He held onto your headboard and thrusted into you after you begged: please, please fuck me.

S’probably my favorite thing to do, he said.

The lights were long off and when your heart beats settled and you wiped sweat from your forehead, he laced his fingers between yours.

“Does Jeff want to kill me?”

“No,” you giggled, turned on your side to get a better look at him. The moon through the window illuminated his nose, his eyebrows, the specks of light green in his eyes as they devoured you. “But I’m sure you’ll get a talking to.”

“Should I not talk to him about it?”

You knew what he was asking, you knew he really meant what am I supposed to tell him? What does this mean?

You didn’t have an answer. You didn’t know what he should say or how you should address any of this, because at the end of the day you were a mom and a business owner and he was eight years your junior. He had an album to finish and tour and you knew how that worked.

You watched your dad’s busy lifestyle pull his marriage apart at the seams. Late nights, dinner parties, too much coke in the 80s before you were born and all of those signs pointed in one direction: this would never last.

It couldn’t last, nothing about the equation made sense. Harry + you = fling, rebound, a hook up or friends with benefits type situation that would eventually fade into a memory when he went on tour or when he got the call: your house is finished!

You didn’t have to answer him, though, the pattering of feet in the hallway as a little voice shouted mommy! had you shoving Harry out of bed and onto the floor with a thud before CeCe could push the double doors open.

“Mommy! I had a bad dream!”

“Hi, honey, oh, it’s okay,” you were upright in bed and welcoming her into your arms when Harry grimaced in the dark.

He mouthed a few swear words as you held CeCe, squishing her face into your shoulder to keep her eyes from landing on Harry. You gestured at him wildly with your free hand, ordering him to duck down and remain unseen.

“It was just a dream,” you told her, “you’re okay. Do you want me to walk you back to bed?”

“No,” she cried out quickly. “Can I sleep here?”

You hesitated, then nodded and looked at Harry in the dark. “Of course, yes, you can fall asleep here and then I’ll bring you back to your room.”

“Okay,” she said, the steadiness of her voice returning when she crawled out of your lap and to the spot where Harry had just been. She tugged at the comforters, pushed the pillow in different directions before she let her head rest atop it.

She let out a sigh, her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks and soon enough Harry poked his head up to look at you with wide eyes as you rubbed CeCe’s back.

You held up a finger to your mouth, gave him a threatening glare when he bit back a laugh. You rolled your eyes--it wasn’t funny. She almost walked in on the two of you and while she’d already endured some traumatic things this year, seeing her mom hooking up with the pop star from down the hall would be sure to take the cake.

When Harry caught your gaze again, you smirked, he giggled, clamped a hand over his mouth and watched you for a second.

“Be quiet!”

“You’re the one talking,” he laughed.

“Well she’s asleep now, but we can’t bring her back yet or she’ll wake up.”

“How long do we have to sit like this?”

“A while,” you told him with certainty. “This is called parenting.”

But he did, he sat on the floor on the side of the bed, watched you watch her and eventually, he picked her up from the mattress and followed you down the hall to her room. She softened into him, head on his shoulder and arms around his neck. The sight of it made you want to replay the earlier scene in your head over and over.

She didn’t stir, a few heavy sighs when you pulled the comforter back up to her shoulders, and once the door was shut behind you both, you smirked up at him.

“I think you should go back to your room.”

“Really? After all of that?”

“After almost getting caught by my six-year-old? Yes.”

He laughed and rolled his eyes playfully, crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine, but maybe we can do that again at some point and have it end differently.”

You nodded. “I think that sounds doable.”

He leaned forward, kissed you quickly, and then turned to head for his own room. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

**

Harry came home from his house tour with good and bad news. The plumbing was fixed, which sped up their timeline, and yet the painters and interior decorator had gotten behind because of it, pushing the timeline out a few weeks.

You weren’t sure which part was good and which part was bad, because by now you were having trouble imagining what your house would feel like without him in it.

You got the news when he strolled in, athletic shorts and a baseball hat on his head when Jeff clapped him on the back. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Harry eyed him suspiciously, reached into the fridge for a juice box. “I live here…”

“Oh, I know you live here.”

“Hello, hi,” you waved at Jeff. “Please do not be weird.”

“That’s all he knows how to be,” Harry offered you a fake-apologetic look.

“That’s all he knows how to be,” Jeff mocked him. “Actually, I know how to be cool and not weird about the fact that my childhood best friend and my adult best friend-slash-artist are now, you know, involved.”

Your stomach did a somersault at his wording, a quick look in Harry’s direction, sure that he would deny the accusation or play it all down.

You found it hard to believe that Harry would be in support of labeling this as anything. Why on earth would a guy like him want to be tied to you with any sort of label or phrasing or word?

“Moving on,” Harry said with a nod. “Are we down to meet up with Tom and Sam tomorrow?”

“Yeah, and we have to do that phone call on Tuesday to go over tour dates.”

Maeve ran in then, a smile on her face when she looked up at Harry. “I have something to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

“I learned a new chord on the guitar. By myself.”

“You did?” He acted way more excited about it than he likely was.

Jeff smiled and then told Maeve: “If you learn enough chords maybe you can be his guitarist.”

“Really?!” She beamed.

“No,” you shook your head.

“Of course you would say that.”

“Maeve--you’re a kid, you can’t go on tour.”

“She’s right,” Harry said with a sweet smile, “You’re a bit too young for life on the road.”

“I’m eleven now, though!”

“I know! And very mature for eleven,” he complimented. “I’ll tell you what. You can for sure come visit and come back stage and maybe even bring a friend if your mother lets you.”

She looked to you quickly, excitement in her eyes when they all waited for your response. “Yeah--we can go at some point...see a show or something.”

“Hayley is going to die, oh my god!” She squealed with delight and then moved to sit at a stool beside Jeff.

He had half a sandwich on a plate, one he picked up on his way over for a boring Sunday afternoon of lounging by the pool. Maeve reached for a chip from the bag in front of him.

“By the way, mom, she invited me over Wednesday after school to work on a project, so can you bring me?”

“I have to bring CeCe to dance, sweetie.”

“Well I need you to bring me to the store to get supplies for this stupid poster-board thing we have to make! And Hayley’s mom said she had a question about Luna--something about a moisturizer or something.”

“I can take CeCe to dance,” Harry shrugged, almost like an onlooker in the room. “S’not a big a deal.”

“Are you sure?”

Jeff and Maeve crunched on chips between you, watching the exchange.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll just need to put her booster seat in my car.”

“And bring her a snack for after--she’s always cranky and hungry.”

He laughed, “I can manage that.”

“What would we do without you, Harry?” Maeve asked, a smile on her face.

Jeff put his chin in his hands, teasing. “Yeah, what would we do without you?”

“No one would get anywhere, people would seriously be missing out on my chicken tacos, and this house would be a lot less fun to live in.”

Maeve nodded in agreement, another chip stolen from Jeff. “True, true, and true.”

A few nights later it dawned on you that Maeve and Harry were as close as ever, spending evenings in your dad’s old office while Maeve tried to wrap her arms around a guitar long enough to strum a few chords.

CeCe didn’t seem to feel too left out, she was more than happy to be an audience for Maeve when she’d come running into the living room: Harry taught me a G chord!

On Tuesday night after school it was CeCe’s idea to go for pizza, she chirped about it in the backseat the entire way home, and after learning that the body wash production was behind schedule, you weren’t in the mood to cook.

You took Harry’s car--showed him how to strap the booster seat in and make sure it wouldn’t budge. He wore a hat and sunglasses which both girls found hilarious, but to you it was almost disheartening. What did it mean for him to be seen out with your family?

He sat beside CeCe and cut her pizza into tiny bites so it would cool off, Maeve sipped Mountain Dew from a straw and filled you in on the latest with Hayley. This week was going well, though Hayley said something annoying in the cafeteria.

It felt normal, not weird for him to be sitting across from you, his feet against yours beneath the table and a smirk in your direction every once in a while.

Both Tristan and Zoey had been dying to hear more details. It slipped out one day in the office that okay...maybe it wasn’t just a one time thing, and now the group chat you had with them was blowing up every day.

They were excited for you, rooting for your comeback and rebound and eager for you to just admit that there was something there. But you weren’t able to do that, especially not when everything in your heart wanted to.

By the time you’d all finished eating, he dipped out the back to pull the car around front. You pointed at Maeve and told her to watch CeCe while you went up to the counter to pay for the pizza.

The woman behind the register smiled when you approached. Long acrylic nails, wrinkles at the corner of her eyes made it obvious that she could have been your mother.

“We had one large plain and one small with pepperoni,” you told her.

“Oh, you’re all set, sweetie, your boyfriend paid on his way out.”

Your head pulled back in surprise. “Oh--he’s--we’re not,”

She let out a laugh at your hesitance. “He was just as taken back when I told him he had a beautiful family--said they're not his, though."

You forced a laugh, if only to match the humor in her voice when you turned on your heels to head back to your booth. The thoughts started spinning when Maeve and CeCe climbed into the back of Harry’s car.

He smiled at you when you slid in, patted you on the thigh before he turned around to make sure both girls were settled--Maeve clicked CeCe’s buckle into place and then he put the car into gear.

Sleeping with Harry was mostly meaningless, right? He was attractive and living in your house and clearly you both got something out of it. Convenient, easy, fun. Most of your brain had you convinced that there’d never be any more to it. There was no way that Harry would be interested in sticking around: two kids, a business to run. You didn’t exactly come with no strings attached.

And he corrected the woman too--not my kids, not my family, not my wife, not my anything. Had she settled on the next step down when she called him your boyfriend, or had he offered the label to avoid an awkward encounter?

It felt immature, your heart beating with urgency as you thought about it the whole way home, beads of sweat along your hairline and not from the warm weather. He sensed it, eyed you from behind his sunglasses when he parked in the driveway. Maeve and CeCe raced to the backyard, leaving the two of you alone.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, all good,” you offered a small smile, the same response you gave to one of the girls if they caught you on a bad day.

He followed you inside, kept his eyes trained on you when you dropped your purse on the counter. “What?”

“You seem off.”

“I’m fine,” you lied again. What were you supposed to say? The woman behind the register at the pizza place is making me question the relationship we have and what it means?

You weren’t 17. You were 32. He was 24. All of these numbers swirled in your head when he took a few steps closer to you, eyes out the window quickly to make sure neither of the girls were watching you through the sliding doors.

He pushed a piece of hair behind your ear, lips turned down when he looked over your face. “You can talk to me, you know.”

“I know,” you caught his wrist and held on for a second, like if you let go he’d disappear and take everything between the two of you with him. You closed your eyes, knew better but still said: “the woman behind the counter called you my boyfriend.”

He let out a laugh, unaware that your words were actually a confession. “She called you my wife, said the girls were cute. I told her I couldn’t take credit.”

“Yeah,” you forced another smile.

“Is that--are you, did that bother you?”

“No,” you shook your head. “I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m not,” he said, eyes still on you like he wasn’t quite sure where your head was at. He pressed a confusing kiss to your forehead but then said something about calling his sister. You checked work emails and night faded into morning like it always did, no matter how uncertain life was, you always had that.

The next afternoon you brought Maeve to Hayley’s, dropped her off with glue sticks and markers and a plethora of project supplies. A yoga class after that, had her home and with dinner on the stove by 6pm.

Eventually, CeCe burst through the door with a smile on her face. Her pink tutu was around her waist, her legs clad in light pink tights and her hair in a messy ponytail on top of her head. “I had the greatest time at ballet!”

You turned around in the kitchen, eager to hear about her day. “You did?”

“I did,” she nodded confidently. Harry came in the front door behind her, sunglasses on his face and CeCe’s unicorn backpack in hand. Maeve was sat at the counter with a pencil, growing angrier with fractions by the minute.

“Why’s that?”

“We danced to a fun song, and we played a fun game, and everyone loved Harry!”

Your eyebrows rose at that, eyes caught his when he lifted the sunglasses. “They did?”

“Moms, not the six-year-olds.”

This caught Maeve’s attention--she sounded almost disgusted. “Moms?”

“I guess ballet pick-up is typically a mom thing?”

You shrugged. “I mean--I don’t see a lot of dads there, so yeah.”

CeCe shimmied out of her tutu and then climbed up to a stool beside Maeve. Harry walked to hang her backpack on a hook by the backdoor, you questioned if it was even worth asking.

“Were they, like, hitting on you?”

“I mean, not really.”

“Not really?”

He walked over to the island and leaned on it, the dimple in his left cheek let you know he liked the hint of jealousy in your voice. “Maybe a little.”

Dinner simmered on the stove, evening sun brought a glow to the kitchen that made his eyes even more green than usual. When you didn’t reply he broke your gaze, let out a sigh and said: “I’m going to shower before dinner, yeah?”

“Sounds good,” you nodded quickly, embarrassed by the silliness of your question. Of course the moms were hitting on him, of course they were intrigued by his presence and of course they couldn’t help but say hi or even ask for a photo. It shouldn’t have surprised you in the slightest.

He was up the stairs and out of sight quickly, CeCe picked up an extra pencil of Maeve’s and started doodling on her agenda book. You pushed sautéed veggies around in a frying pan and pretended that all of this was normal.

“Hey mom?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you like Harry?”

You turned around quickly, Maeve’s eyes were inquisitive but not judgmental.

“Do I like Harry? Of course--he’s nice.”

“No, I mean do you like like Harry?”

CeCe didn’t seem too interested in your answer, she hummed to herself and kicked her feet back and forth. Maeve, though, waited patiently while you tried to piece together words that wouldn’t make the roof blow off of your house.

“Harry and I are friends, sweetie.”

“You’re not answering my question.”

You let out a forced laugh. “What is making you ask this?”

“You seemed jealous about the other moms.”

“I wasn’t jealous,” you defended. Were you really about to get into it with your eleven-year-old? Would you really defend yourself and make this the hill on which you'd die?

She watched you for a second, looked back down at the worksheet in front of her. “You seemed jealous.”

You were thankful for the fact that she wasn’t making any eye contact now. You let out a sigh and decided that not responding was your best option. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, had it been that obvious? Was she old enough to pick up on the undertones of your relationship?

You turned back to the stove, watched the vegetables sizzle in the pan as your mind started to cave in on itself. All of this was getting out of control, right? First the woman yesterday and the dizziness that overtook you when she said the word boyfriend. Now Maeve sitting at the counter with a curiosity in her that you couldn’t really blame her for.

The doorbell rang, CeCe’s head popped up in excitement. “Who is that?!”

“I don’t know,” you said. She hopped off her stool and took off the door as you followed behind her. You hadn’t planned on a visit from Jeff, maybe Tristan needed last minute approval on a product.

But when CeCe yanked the door open with both hands and an excited smile on her face, you didn’t expect to see Luke, hands in his pockets and eyebrows raised high.

“Daddy!”

“Hi sweetie,” he knelt down on one knee, wrapped his arms around her when Maeve made a noise of excitement before rushing over. She crashed into him, pushing her way into their hug.

“What are you doing here?” she asked excitedly.

“I wanted to visit, I was in the neighborhood,” he said with a shrug, eyes glancing up to you.

It was bullshit, he’d always been good at talking his way out of things or coming up with an explanation, smile sweet and words even sweeter. He backed away from them when they let go, stood back up and smiled at you, a quick nod in greeting.

“How’ve you been?”

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[emotionallyits2009]

deancas fic rec list!

hello everyone! happy christmas to those who celebrate it, my gift to you is my fic rec list that i said i would make like a month ago. the only thing it is organized by is canonverse vs alternate universe. tried to cover a variety of subjects but there are in particular many fics of the genre “postcanon where cas is human and he and dean live together and slowly finally get their shit together” because i know what i’m about, son. HOPE U ENJOY. and if you wanna talk about any of them or rec me other fics please do. :) 

Canonverse:

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo, 30k, explicit “Are you happy? Y’know. Just—being here,” Dean says, gesturing to the yard with his beer bottle. “Being with—I mean, you used to fight in celestial wars and—and save the world. Now you’re growing vegetables and talking about chickens.” There are many fics set in a post-canon universe where Cas is human and he and Dean live together and slowly fall into a relationship. Imo this one is the best of the best of that genre. This was one of the first fics I read back in July when I was getting Back Into Supernatural where I was like oh fuck I’m like in this. Dean builds Cas planters and bookshelves and a chicken coop and they fight and work through it.

Cuckoo And Nest by komodobits, 10k, explicit For a long time, Castiel thought that every earthly possession other than the immediately necessary was excess to requirement. But Dean – Dean who named his car, who keeps a photograph of his mother in his wallet, some thirty-plus years after her death, who still has the crumpled ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with a sleeping pelican emblazoned on it from the Microtel outside of Roanoke where he first kissed Castiel, clumsy and unsure, under the unsteady fluorescence of an exhausted bathroom bulb – is sentimental. It puzzles Castiel, where Dean draws the line between what is meaningful and what it is worthless. Really Gets the dynamic of Cas doesn’t think Dean wants him to stay/Dean thinks Cas will leave the first chance he gets. Also a nice example of Cas thinking he’s not wanted if he’s not useful/powerful and being told otherwise. Another all-time fave!

lonely hearts by outphastthemoat, 4.5k, gen He thinks he might give up having his own anything just to be able to step foot inside the room next door and sit on the edge of Dean’s bed instead. This one is for the CAS GIRLS who know what LONELINESS feels like.

Helionneiros by aeli_kindara, 24.2k, mature In which Dean visits his mother, and Claire takes Cas on a hunt. I’m always on the lookout for more fic with Claire and Jack. Jack doesn’t show up until the end here but the relationship between Cas and Claire is really nice.

Crawl by aeriallon, 11k, explicit It’s been almost four years since Castiel left Kansas; he'd eventually settled in an island town where he has a job, a house, and a life without the Winchesters. Every winter, Dean drives down to the coast to see him. Another fic where Cas is human but in this one he took some time for himself and got some distance from the Winchesters! He gets to be competent and weird as a human and we love that for him. I must warn you all that this fic contains one use of the phrase “making love” which would normally put me right off but it’s still worth reading. The first of a three-part series.

home where you hold me by microcomets, 1.6k, gen Cas and Dean, in the moments between their battles, ache for quiet spaces. Technically this is a coda to 10x20 but you don’t need the episode for context. Short and very sweet.

Build a Home by domesticadventures, 20.1k, teen After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them. He doesn’t. This one is so cute it’s like what if once they were done saving the world Sam and Dean actually invited other hunters to move into the bunker with them. Obviously Dean wants that to include Cas but doesn’t know how to use his words.

the taste of gravel in the mouth by deathbanjo, 22.4k, explicit This is what Cas gave up Heaven for: greasy diner food, shitty motel rooms with even shittier cable, long car rides spent in complete silence except for the same six tapes playing over and over again, and a burnt-out husk of a man who can barely hold a conversation anymore. Angst fic! They go on a road trip and Dean is severely fucked up post-Mark of Cain.

Unknown Quantities by xylodemon, 8.6k, explicit No one ever tells Dean anything. Another nice getting-together fic.

Creature of Habit by trinityofone, 5.2k, teen The more you love someone, the more you want to kill them. Or: How Cas developed some bad habits, and Dean coped surprisingly well. This one is ancient by destiel standards (written during season 5) but it manages to nail the married couple vibes they give off in later seasons. Cas is a bitch and Dean likes him so much. <3

The (Mostly Accidental) Courtship of Dean Winchester by Tuesday, 11.2k, mature Angelic marriage rites were never intended to go quite like this. Another old one that is a lot of fun! They get Accidental Angel Married and if you don’t enjoy dumb fanfiction tropes like that I don’t know what to say to you.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit by pyrebi, 4k, teen In which angelic marriage bonds are apparently stupidly easy to trigger, Cas wages multidimensional war in Heaven, Dean can't catch a break like ever, Sam rather enjoys being a dick, love saves the day, and nobody consummates anything. The OTHER accidental angel marriage fic written in 2010. 

Crazy Diamonds by pantheon_of_discord, 24.8k, explicit A week ago, Dean was pulled out of Hell. Now, he’s apparently woken up in 2018, and the angel that a mere twenty-four hours beforehand had threatened to chuck him back into the pit is sleepily pouring himself coffee and wearing Dean’s second-favourite Zeppelin shirt. It all seems like a perfect happy ending, but with Hell’s scars still so fresh, Dean can’t imagine how he could have possibly gotten there. At the same time, the Dean who went to sleep in the bunker, right next to Cas, wakes up on Bobby’s couch in 2008. He’s instantly bombarded with questions by a Lilith-obsessed brother and a man who’s been dead for years, and must decide between keeping his finally-perfect life intact, and the lives he could save by re-writing history. Regardless of these choices, both Deans are trapped in the wrong decade, and their only way back lies with a Castiel still very much under Heaven’s thumb – one who might find the future Dean describes difficult to believe. Time travel is FUN. There’s an excellent part where (minor spoilers) future!Dean is like, “Guess what, asshole? You like me so much you marry me!!!!!!!!!!!” to 2008!Castiel that made me laugh out loud the first time I read it. Also just a good reminder of how most problems in life are temporary and if you could go back in time to talk to your younger self you’d be like, “Hey man. Chill out. You get through it.”

The Path of Fireflies by museaway, 63.7k, mature After his humanity is restored, Dean wakes up in bed with Castiel, a wedding ring, and no memory of the past twelve years. There’s a lot of amnesia fic and djinn fic out there were Dean wakes up ~suddenly together with Cas~ but I like this one in particular because he’s initially very confused and kind of a dick about it until he acknowledges that being with Cas makes him happy.

take the long way home by dothraki_shieldmaiden, 95k, explicit Three months ago, when Dean decided to retire, he thought his life was going to end up differently. He'd thought that he might get to have it all, Sam, Cas, Jack, and nice little place to live. Instead he gets Sam and Jack off on their Summer of Love Tour, radio silence from Cas, and a never-ending road trip consisting of himself. Still reeling from the loss of his grace, Castiel travels the country in search of hunts. Driven by a need to prove his usefulness, he pushes himself beyond all limits of endurance. Together, with the help of a few friends, a crumbling Victorian house, and a stray cat, Dean and Castiel patch themselves back together and create a home together. Do you wanna read almost one hundred thousand words of Dean and Cas having extremely intense feelings but refusing to voice them aloud? Haha of course you do that’s why you’re here. There’s also a lot about Cas adjusting to being human and being depressed about it which might resonate if you’ve ever felt weird about having a body. To be honest the author could stand to use a few more commas but there were also half a dozen moments that made me put my phone down and drag my hand slowly over my face and whisper “oh my god” to myself which is like, the ultimate measure of a good fanfiction so it gets to be on the list.

like moses and batman and james dean by saltyfeathers, 31.6k, explicit dean used to turn tricks. over a decade later, he met cas. Have you seen the fanon (apparently pioneered by Mr. Jackles “Original Deankin” Ackles himself) that Dean used to prostitute himself to feed himself and Sam when they were younger? Are you interested in exploring that concept in fanfiction? Well, this is the only fic you need. Mind the tags on this one! It’s not what I’d call happy but it’s good.

Some Assembly Required by narrow_staircases, 47k, mature It’s September of 2005, and Dean Winchester, in an attempt to outrun old mistakes and painful memories, finds himself in southern Kentucky on a wild goose chase. He’s completely certain this weird religious movement he’s “investigating” is a hoax, despite the miraculous healings people report, and he’ll be back on the road in a day or two. Things are looking up when he meets Cas, an awkward (and gorgeous) graduate student who’s actually doing honest-to-god research into the local tent revival meetings. When that research takes a weird and personal turn, Dean’s left to face two very serious realities: one, this may be a real case after all, and two, he’s fallen way harder for Cas than he should ever have let himself. Stanford-era AU of Dean trying to avoid his father and getting in over his head on a case.

Alternate universe:

And This, Your Living Kiss by opal_bullets, 57k, mature Only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet Jack Allen is just Kansas mechanic Dean Winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. Not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen. Until, that is, a string of coincidences leads Dean to auditing a poetry course with one Dr. Castiel Novak. The  professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia's foremost expert on the poetry of Jack Allen. Mundane AUs in this fandom have to be really, really good to catch my attention and this one is! It’s exactly what it says in the summary and the characterization is spot-on. 

Out to Drift by deathbanjo, 20.9k, mature Dean drives a black car with a loud engine. He lies too easily. He keeps a gun in the back of his jeans, and Castiel isn’t sure, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Dean has killed someone before. Two people in fucked-up unstable situations meeting and forming a connection. Honestly guys I really just love deathbanjo.

[smoochkooks]

—chapter four: white lies

this is a part of my an ode to a broken heart drabble series.

pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

genre: unrequited love, best friends to (?), heavy angst, future smut

word count: 1.5k

summary: it came easy to you to lie. but with every untold truth, you were hurting more on the inside.

previous || next

one year and 6 months ago

April was exceptionally moody that year.  

Every day you woke up to either heavy rainfall or a beautiful, cloudless sky. Alternatively, it could also snow for a couple of hours just to have it all vanish once the sun reappeared. As much as you loved Spring, you hated the capricious weather with passion.  

It was a normal, peaceful, Saturday afternoon. Saturday meant no classes to attend, no work to do on the side. It was just you in your small, cozy apartment, tucked underneath the blanket and binge-watching Attack On Titan.  

You were never an anime enthusiast per se, but you happened to befriend a doe-eyed weeb all those years ago. Your current occupation was just a part of the aftermath. It wasn’t like Jungkook was obsessed, not at all. He was actually far from it. Now, at the tender age of twenty-three, his old hobby was like a relapse. His love for anime was coming in waves every once in a while, gradually transforming into a two-months-long hyperfixation and then, it was nothing. And the cicle continued.

He was currently in the stage of re-watching Attack On Titan, hence why you had been forced to finally give the damned anime a try as well. Hell, he was even coming over tonight to have a marathon with you.

(He’d said that season three, his favourite, you had to watch alongside him.)

You: eren's annoying little shit  

Jungkook: told you so

You: but levi? damn I’d sell my soul for him  

Jungkook: for a 5’2 emotionally unavailable man?  

You: yep. that’s my type

It was far from truth. As much as you liked Captain Levi, he wasn’t Jungkook. You are my type, you wanted to write instead. There hadn’t been a man in my life who managed to even come close to you. But, as always, you kept those confessions to yourself.  

Right when you were about to play another episode, your phone buzzed again.  

Jungkook: I have a weird question  

You: I’m used to that  

You: shoot your shot.  

Jungkook: what’s your finger size?  

Confused, you read his last message once again. That was indeed a weird fucking question to ask, you thought. You had never really been a fan of rings. You only owed one - a gift from your grandmother she gave you for your sixteenth birthday. Rummaging thorough your drawer, you found it in a separate, black case.  

It still fit just right, so you took a ruler, measured the size and googled the results.  

You: it’s 7.5 I guess

You: why do you ask tho?  

Jungkook: I need you to go somewhere with me before our marathon if that’s okay

You: you didn’t answer my question  

You: but okay. what time?

Jungkook: ill pick you up at 5pm  

Jungkook: you’ll see  

Maybe it was for the better he hadn’t told you where he was taking you. If you had know, you would have backed away last minute. Come up with so lame excuse, blame it all on a headache or period cramps.

If you had known Jungkook was taking you to pick up an engagement ring for Soojin, you would have never come with him.  

When you parked in front of one of the most high-ranking jewellery stores dowtown, the solemnity of the situation hit you like a whiplash. You took a deep, shuddering breath. Jungkook was thinking about marrying Soojin. Jungkook was going to propose to her, soon. He was ready to spent the rest of his life with her. 

Jeon Jungkook, the love of your life, was about to slip out of your reach for good. 

You couldn’t cry. Not in front of him. You clenched your fists so tight the knuckles turned white.  

“I figured out you could help me,” Jungkook said, breaking the silence and unbuckled his seatbelt. “I checked Soojin's finger size once when she was showering and then I found out that your’s the same and well, you’re a girl so you obviously know more about jewellery than me and–”

“Jungkook,” you cut him off with a dry chuckle. You didn’t want him to speak. You didn’t want to see him. You wanted to jumped off his car and ran away from that place as far as possible. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I get it.”  

You smiled at him with reassurance. It was actually hilarious, how you mastered the art of feigning your real feelings when you were with him. It came easy to you to lie but with every untold truth, you were hurting more on the inside.  

“I’m here, so you don’t have to worry about chosing something horrible.”  

He grinned and you noticed a dust of pink covering the apples his cheeks. It was hard, so fucking hard seeing him happy because that was all you ever wanted and yet it pained you not to be the main source of it. Jungkook was twenty-three and already so in love he wanted to get married. You were going to see him in a black tux, a prince charming waiting in front of the altar for his princess.  

It ached. Why did it ache to see him happy?

The lady who worked at the jewellery store greeted you politely with a bow. “What can I do for you?” she asked.  

“We are looking for engagement rings.” Jungkook answered.

You could tell she was a bit astounded but her professional smile never faltered when she responded with, “Oh, that’s still quite unusual to see the couple chosing an engagement ring together.”  

You were about to protest but then, Jungkook did something you would never expect him to do.  

He grasped your hand.

(It was warm. His touch was soothing. Comforting. Then why did it hurt so bad?)  

“My girlfriend wants to chose the ring herself but she doesn’t know when she will get it.”  

To make matters worse, he sent you a wink. The store’s clerk cooed at the scene and clasped a hand over her chest. For her it was yet another day at work, yet another pair of adults who had decided to get marry.  

“You make a really beautiful couple.” she said. 

Even Jungkook’s hand squeezing yours couldn’t ease the sting you felt hearing her speak those words to you. You smiled lightly for good measure. She then pointed at the display and gave you some time and space too look at the options.

Your whole face felt hot. Jungkook was still holding your hand, still playing the role of a perfect boyfriend. He didn’t seem to notice what kind of effect it had on you. He didn’t know how fast your heart was beating, how warm his touch felt on your skin. It was all just a silly joke to him.

He leaned closer to you, so the store's clerk couldn’t hear him. His breath tickled your skin. “You’re blushing.” he whispered.  

“Shut up.”  

He chuckled and let go of your hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”  

(No matter how much it hurt you on the inside, you already missed his touch.)

“It’s okay. Let’s chose my damned ring, shall we?” you proposed, mustering a nonchalant tone.  

Dodging uneasiness with humor always worked out, it seemed.

You felt odd and out of place standing next to him and staring at all those glimmering jewels. In the corner of the eye you saw the lady who worked there glancing at you from time to time and that was when you remembered you were supposed to act like a soon-to-be fiancée. 

“They’re all pretty.” you said to Jungkook. 

“Which one you like the most then?”  

You didn’t have to think long about the answer. The ring with an emerald stone caught your eye from the beginning. It was different than the others, definitely not a standard choice for engagement but something about its peculiarity made you want it to have it shinning on your finger one day.  

Except, you weren’t here for yourself. Jungkook wasn’t your boyfriend. You were helping him chose a ring for Soojin. And you knew exactly what she would like.  

So you pointed at the number thirty-two. A sparkling, white-gold ring with an oval-shaped diamond.  

Jungkook let out a hum. “It’s really pretty, yeah. Excuse me,” he called. “My girlfriend would like to try out this one.”  

You ignored the phantom pain you felt as you put the ring on. You flexed your fingers and just for a moment, you pretended it wasn’t a farce your best friend came up with. The diamond shone brightly just like the glimmers of happiness in Jungkook's eyes. He didn’t have to worry about Soojin's answer. He knew it would be thousand times yes.

You were good at pretending. After all, you had been practicing the art of it almost your entire life.  

So you drove with Jungkook to your apartment and listened to him babbling about his newest project at work. You made snacks, sat in front of your TV and spent the next couple of hours watching Attack On Titan. You cursed him for spoiling you a few bits of the show and Jungkook, like the petty Virgo he was, reminded you how you accidentally revealed him Little Women's ending because you had read the book years before.

As you laughed and bickered with him, you still remembered about the crimson box tucked in the pocket of his leather jacket, but you didn’t allow yourself to break. Not yet.  

It was only when Jungkook fell asleep around 1am that you stepped into the shower and let the tears flow.  

And a week later, when the dreaded became real–

Jungkook: she said yes!!!

A white lie was told to avoid hurting someone’s feelings.

You: I’m so happy for you, Jungkook!  

After all, the best you could do was give up your happiness for the sake of his own.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 304: The Council of OFA

Previously on BnHA: Hawks and Best Jeanist were all, “what up Todofam, we are here to apply for the positions of ‘son #4’ and ‘weird uncle’, respectively,” and then proceeded to insert themselves into the family drama without waiting for an answer. Hawks briefed Endeavor on the nation’s current status of “totally fucked”, promised to help him sort that out, and then asked him about OFA. Endeavor was all, “oh do you mean One For All, the mysterious thing that my intern Deku was apparently being targeted for?” and then we cut away, presumably before Endeavor could clarify that it never occurred to him to follow up on that, and Hawks was all “no of course not, why would it occur to anyone other than me to follow up on any of this super weird and ominously important shit.” Anyway so meanwhile Bakugou was all “LET ME SCREAM AT DEKU UNTIL HE WAKES UP” and the other kids were all “NO”, and then the chapter ended with All Might being all “I wonder what the vestige!me is currently chatting with Deku about.”

Today on BnHA: Deku drops in on the Vestiges, who are all “sup Deku, how do you like our fancy chairs.” OFA II and III are all “if you need us we’ll just be standing here silently in the corner pretending to be invisible and sparking endless discourse with our mere existence.” OFA IV is all “and now I will explain to you in a very convoluted way that you being quirkless was actually a good thing, since it means that you are probably not going to suddenly drop dead at the age of twenty. But also you’re probably going to be the last user of OFA for that very same reason.” Deku is all “that is wild. I’m just gonna stand here and stare at my hand.” Nana is all “so now that that’s settled could you please do me a small favor and kill my grandson for me”, because having just one topic to discourse about this week WASN’T ENOUGH, apparently. Thanks so much Horikoshi.

(ETA: okay so just a note before I start, this week’s RHA translation was a huge mess, so I followed up this chapter by reading a couple of other translations. the main one I’m using for reference is the one by @hanashimas​, whose weekly posts I highly recommend. anyway so you’ll see a couple of ETAs in this post in places where the initial translation was off.)

how many layers of bandages did they wrap this poor kid’s fucking hand in omg

jesus Deku. are you holding onto a bouquet of flowers under that thing?? or a tennis racket??

omg yes, finally

is he reading these names off a teleprompter lol. and if so, what has Jeanist ever done to slight you, Deku? “god bless Kacchan and Aizawa-sensei and Todoroki-kun and everyone else in the whole wide world... except for Best Jeanist. fuck that guy.” actually this joke would be funnier if half of tumblr didn’t legit feel that way lol but anyway

OH MY GOD

I NEED TO HAVE A TALK TOO. ABOUT, OH, EVERYTHING

I got immediate KHR vibes from ALL OF THIS. this is seriously such a Vongola aesthetic. “let’s use the luxuriously cushioned chairs with the seat backs that are ten feet high, and arrange all of the handsome ghost people in a big circle” like come on

that said there are also some slight LoTR vibes as well. “bring forth the ring, Deku”

I like how Six is sitting there with his feet drawn up all casual, but with his arms inexplicably sticking STRAIGHT OUT IN FRONT OF HIM and dangling over his knees like he’s doing some sort of zombie walk

apparently the Fourth wasn’t a big fan of shoes huh

interesting that All Might is the only one who’s still faint/indistinct, and and that Two and Three are fully visible

(ETA: the rest of my speculation about Two and Three has been moved into a separate post, the better to focus on the shit that’s actually happening in this chapter lol.)

and lastly, interesting that all of them are talking now, except for All Might (and I guess the Second and Third as well). to the best of my knowledge Deku hasn’t unlocked the Sixth’s quirk yet, so I guess the quirks don’t really have anything to do with it

oh and it looks like Deku’s mouth is still covered. I guess that’s convenient for the vestiges since we all know it’s hard to stop Deku once he gets going. but on the other hand it’s very inconvenient for people like me who wanted to see some interaction. alas

so First says that OFA’s power has grown a lot in the last four months (i.e. since Deku unlocked Blackwhip), and now the vestiges can communicate with each other as well as Deku

so even when Deku’s not around they can all just chill with each other. this is such a weird thing to me lol. like it’s cool, don’t get me wrong, but it’s also strange as hell to know that you’ve got eight other people hanging out in your head spying on everything you do and having conversations with each other about it. it would be like if Dark Shadow had someone to hang out with other than Tokoyami. good thing you weren’t triplets, Tokoyami

First says that it’s become easier for the vestiges to interact with Deku ever since TomurAFO barged into the OFA Domain back at Jakku. huh

(ETA: apparently this is because AFO forcibly pulled out OFA’s power when he was trying to steal the quirk, so I guess that makes sense.)

okay thank you Banjou for addressing this concern which I initially brought up as a joke, but which was apparently real enough for you to reassure Deku about

“don’t worry, even though we’re awake and hanging out inside of you at all times, we’re definitely not secretly watching and making fun of every single thing you do” hmmmmm

(ETA: “not that you could do anything about it even if we were, since you’re probably going to be the last OFA holder ever!” I don’t trust anything this asshole says lmao.)

OH SHIT??

YESSS DEKU now you can hold them accountable for all of their bullshit! because I do not doubt that there will be bullshit lol but let’s see how that goes

oh damn

well okay then. you didn’t have to stand up and walk over to him and loom all threateningly like that but okay sir

this guy has kind of a Kimimaro vibe to him. remember? that bone-growing guy from Naruto? except I’m pretty sure he had eyebrows. and wasn’t twenty feet tall. speaking of which, that explains the chairs

why are you wearing only 3/5ths of a shirt

lol what

someone’s gonna have to explain this to me. is he just redundant or something lol, or is he strangely poetical or what

(ETA: apparently HE’S MAKING A PUN omg. I immediately gained +10 love for him lol. also it flows a lot better in Japanese. this is one of the things Caleb is usually good at, so we’ll see what he does with the wordplay.)

omg the hermit theory is true!!

“I’M NOT WEIRD, IT’S SOCIETY WHICH IS WEIRD.” lol whatever you say buddy. also love how Banjou tried to give him a big hearty slap on the back but Hermit Boy was not having it lmao

IS HE TRYING TO CAPTURE HIM WITH BLACKWHIP

AND ACTUALLY, NO, SIR, AS A MATTER OF FACT, WE ARE NOT AWARE. SO SPILL!!

?!!?

okay my first response was LOL ARE YOU SERIOUS, THAT’S THE BIG SECRET!? -- and then it hit me what the significance of “died from old age... AT AGE FORTY” meant. at which point it was like “!!!!!” and then “OH, SHIT”

(ETA: there’s also an Iida joke here somewhere but I’m just too tired to make it.)

oh my god oh my god

did he somehow get a copy of the coroner’s report or something? like how does he even know that he died from “old age” as opposed to any number of other natural causes? ??

but anyway. so this is the quirk singularity coming into play then I guess. but then how come All Might is still alive and ticking?

(ETA: so this is one example of where this week’s translation is a mess lol. apparently the Fourth explains here that he didn’t know what the fuck he died from until All Might researched it. and it turns out there actually was an autopsy lol so there you go.)

so Fourth says he held OFA for eighteen years, and since he knew he would never be strong enough to defeat AFO on his own he basically just spent all his time punching rocks in the woods and training to power the quirk up

oh shit

is he implying that his body literally fell apart?? like that’s how he got the scars on his face? -- IS THAT WHAT KEEPS HAPPENING TO TOMURA, THEN. oh shit

DUDE

so you’re telling me that this quirk actively shortens the lifespan of anyone who uses it?? and my little boy here has had it now for a year already?? fuck me, I have immediately have a TON of thoughts about all this but let me save it until he’s done with his explanation

THANK YOU, DEKU

right?? how come All Might didn’t die then. even after he got injured. please don’t tell me he actually is dying still and is just being slow about it because I SWEAR TO GOD

what does this mean??

so what you’re trying to say is you all have NO FUCKING IDEA how long Deku’s gonna be able to hold this quirk before he SUDDENLY DROPS DEAD?! five generations ago this dude was able to hold it for eighteen years, and then four generations later All Might was able to hold it for thirty-odd years or so, and now Deku has it and you all have no clue which way it’s gonna go? actually this makes it sound like it really wasn’t OFA that killed the Fourth at all and you guys are just really bad at forming hypotheses. but since you’re making a big plot point out of it I guess it must be true

and don’t think I didn’t notice the part where you said you didn’t have OFA very long and then “died while fighting”, Firsto. I want to hear more about that. specifically who you passed the quirk onto before your death

and yes, if we are agreeing that OFA was the cause of the Fourth’s death, then the conclusion on this next page is the natural one to draw

so that’s a bit of a relief then, because Deku is quirkless too. so it means he won’t be able to hold OFA forever (and will probably have to find another quirkless person to pass it on to), but at least he won’t be randomly dying out of the blue next Tuesday or something

oh my god now he’s talking about OFA and AFO and user consciousnesses and all sorts of good theory stuff but it’s so much exposition. you’re really gonna make me read all this lol

wait what. why would All Might being quirkless have anything to do with the presence of his vestige in OFA Outer Space Party Land

but Deku is also quirkless and he’s clearly visible and chatting with you guys. so what gives. like how much of this is verified fact and how much of it is you guys just shrugging and making stuff up lol

SERIOUSLY, GUYS

BUT DEKU IS ALSO -- you know what, never mind sob. none of this shit makes any sense but whatever

(ETA: seriously, this all seems like an awful lot of speculation on their part. for Deku’s sake I sure hope they’re right.)

FSSKDJFLSKLKJLKJL ALL MIGHT IS FIFTY-FIVE?!

lol that’s a full ten years past my closest estimate, wow. but this pretty much confirms his age now at last! or at least confirms it within a couple of years, because we know All Might and Nana met when he was in middle school, and he presumably had the quirk by the time he took the U.A. entrance exam. so yeah. gonna go with fifty-five

so they think that because All Might was quirkless, OFA was better able to adapt to his body and became his true quirk, as opposed to being an extra quirk that stacked on top of the one he already had and overwhelmed him. ties in back to the whole “AFO used to bend people to his will by forcing quirks on them” thing, as well as the “Noumus are all mindless because of the strain of having multiple quirks”

Two and Three are really ruining the serious vibe of this scene here lol

they look like they’re doing the counting for hide and seek

and is this Deku talking now? I was about to get mad at First for implying that quirkless people are somehow freaks, as opposed to “normal” people jdslk

so in other words, don’t go giving it to your best friend all casually for shits and giggles, Deku. even if it would make a really cool climax for a movie. well shit. maybe that’s why they were so quick to nope back into Deku’s body afterward

so First says that because quirkless people are becoming rarer and rarer, the fact that All Might just happened to stumble upon Deku is “nothing short of a miracle.” which, yeah, that was definitely a stroke of luck there. being quirkless saved his life. but being quirkless is also part of why he was chosen in the first place, and we’ve always known that much

“in other words, kiddo...”

looks like there was some hurried clone stamp usage going on here lol. but props to RHA as always for putting this scan out so fast, especially given how exposition-heavy this week’s chapter has been

“anyways, that was the main topic” ARE YOU SERIOUS. there are like ten other topics imma need you all to get to here, people

(ETA: seems like this is a mistranslation; the line should actually read something more along the lines of “and now for the main topic.”)

FFFFFFFFF

“ENJOY YOUR CLIFFHANGER THIS WEEK.” dskfalkjlkjwlgkjl you really went and dumped this discourse on us yet again. fucking...

(ETA: forgot to mention, but as several people mentioned, this seems to be another mistranslation -- rather than asking Deku to kill Tomura as though it’s doing her a personal favor, Nana is asking “will you be able to do it.” in other words more of an “are you capable of doing it” type of thing. which is a very reasonable question to ask given that Deku is, well, Deku.)

anyways, and the answer is obviously going to be “no” of course. this isn’t going to end any differently than when the previous Avatars all told Aang to kill Ozai. but I guess it means we’re in for a fun conversation next week

so Nana looks pretty grim here though (nothing at all like the person who once taught All Might the importance of saving people with a smile), and I’m wondering if this means she believes that her grandson is already beyond saving. as in killing him would be a mercy, as opposed to him continuing to live with AFO bending his mind and body to his will. except if that is the case, I think she’s underestimating Tomura’s own will. and definitely underestimating Deku’s will to save

and also, just... I’m so fucking sick of AFO screwing the Shimura family over, honestly. this is exactly what he wanted. well fuck you, guy. you don’t get to have what you want. go out there and save Tomura, Deku. for his sake and for Nana’s. give them some hope. do your thing, boy. can’t wait for your big speech all about it next chapter lol

[princesssarcastia]

im having fun with a dumb concept, come and see

thinking about how in unpretty’s batman | bruce wayne meta, bruce actually like, enjoys having sex with women (and men but that’s less relevant to my point), which makes the character like 20% less sexist and terrible overall.  and how he’s got a great relationship with a bunch of models because he’s a weird guy who actually treats women like people.

also thinking about how there’s all those batman meta posts floating around relating to the fucking hilarious idea that pretty much everyone in gotham actually knows that bruce wayne is batman, they just don’t say anything because he provides an invaluable service to the city and is actually a solid dude.

so now I’m putting my hands together and thinking about an amazing concept, where bruce wayne, who instead of like wholly playing off of the way society objectifies women and expects women to act around him in a real sexist way, actually treats women like people and like, enjoys not only having casual sex, but also just spending time with women who are, in fact, people with personalities and stuff, and are not just arm candy.

but of course, some of it is still about the cover story.  and my thought is, what if like 40-60% of the model/young starlet/socialite scene in gotham knows that bruce wayne is batman but they don’t say shit to anyone because he’s:

A) actually really sweet and they don’t want to do him dirty like that, B) capable of treating them like people in a way the media and a lot of other men in their shared social circles aren’t, C) providing an invaluable service to the city not just as batman, but also as bruce wayne with a shit ton of money to give away and influence to get shit done, all of which are things these women can recognize and protect, and very distantly, D) because he’s actually pretty great at the whole dating/sex thing

im imagining like, bruce needs an alibi so people can’t put two and two together and get four, and there are twenty women ready to go and provide one, no questions asked because they already know the answer and know it’s for a good reason.  these women are integral to the protection of his secret identity.  also imagining that whenever they see something hinky going on, they just...casually-except-actually-really-not-casually drop hints to him, or fucking feed him information, so he can take care of it.  occasionally he can even reach out to them for information about stuff, they’re just cool like that.

would love to write read fic about this concept, feel free to write it for me so i don’t have to write it for myself.

[babymetaldoll]

Danger Days - Chapter nineteen: "If you're gone (maybe it's time to come home)"

Word count: 16,9K

Summary: Joey is not ready to start touring, but being away from Matthew sounds like a good plan to get over him. But... Matthew has other plans, and he is determined to be forgiven. Gerard is not letting his illusions go either, but he has to realize he is wasting his time.

Warnings: Cursing, there are some arguments, a little angst, and some fluff.

A/N: I'm soft.

Masterlist

Chapter one | Chapter two | Chapter three | Chapter four | Chapter five | Chapter six | Chapter seven | Chapter eight | Chapter nine | Chapter ten | Chapter eleven | Chapter twelve | Chapter thirteen | Chapter fourteen | Chapter fifteen | Chapter sixteen | Chapter seventeen | Chapter eighteen | Chapter nineteen | Chapter twenty | Chapter twenty one | Chapter twenty-two | Chapter twenty-three | Chapter twenty-four |

--

::: March 30th, 2011. Los Angeles :::

Frank sighed and looked around. It was early morning, and there was chaos around him. It was video shooting day, and his family was with him at the small indoor venue where MCR was recording the “Planetary Go” music video. Five hundred kids were outside, waiting in line to get there and be part of the show. Meanwhile, inside the arena, his wife and kids hung out with Joey, Ray, and Mikey in the dressing room. They were still waiting for Gerard, who was late, as pretty much always.

- "I brought some things you might need through these next months"- Jamia said to Joey as Frank walked closer- Mostly books and a few maternity shirts I loved.

- "Thank you! I’m gonna need all your help, ‘cos I have no fucking idea what I’m doing."

- "You are gonna be just fine! You have mom material!"- Jamia pointed out as the young woman held Lily in her arms, smiling- "You are glowing"- Joey grinned- "Now tell me everything about, have you seen him? Have you talked to him? Did you tell him?"

The drummer widened her eyes and held her breath for a second. Mikey looked at her and kissed her temple.

- "I’ve seen him, I told him, he is thrilled, he has been..."- she made a pause and tried to find the right words to describe how the last ten days had been for her- "Incredibly caring and supportive. I hate him"- Mrs. Iero frowned.

- "He is making it hard for you to hate him, right?"

- "Awfully! I swear I have to do some exhausting mental work to keep myself from forgiving him each time I see him! It’s awful!"

- "If you want to forgive him…"- Jamia started, but Joey shook her head.

- "No! This is not about forgiving him because I won’t! once a cheater, always a cheater!"

- "Yeah… that’s true."

- "And I don’t trust him!"

- "I know…"

- "And..."

- "It’s ok, Joey. Don’t worry"- Jamia smiled and changed the subject- "Did you tell your parents yet?"

- "No, we are gonna be in Seattle in four days, so I’ll tell them in person."

- "Are they going to the show?"

- "Yeah! They are thrilled! And they want to meet the band, which I know is gonna be weird. I’m so glad you are coming along for this leg."

- "I was dying to come with you, and now you have two babies to get used to"- Joey chuckled, but her happiness was clouded when Gerard walked into the room with Lynz.

Ever since her talk with Mikey, Joey had successfully managed to stay away from Gerard. And the best part: no one had asked if there was something wrong, ‘cos though neither Frank nor Ray knew the details of the story, they both knew there was something definitely wrong in the way Gerard looked at the drummer, and she was clearly awkward around him.

Gerard was in hell, and he knew he deserved it. He had crossed the line, and the distance between him and Joey was the proof. Gerard was afraid even to talk to her, and he felt the wall his brother had created around her. Mikey wasn’t mad at him anymore. He was just worried about him and also a little disappointed. Gerard had always made sure to give him a positive example- even in his darkest times- and suddenly, that whole mess fell upon them.

- "Hey guys!"- Lynz said with a happy face and arms wide open as she walked into the room and started hugging everybody, including Joey, who felt like a whore the second she saw her. She had promised her she was never going to do anything with her husband, and she had failed.

- "Hi Lynz! How are you?"- Joey tried to keep a straight face and smiled.

- "Congratulations! Gerard told me about your baby!"

- "Thank you so much!"- the drummer was making the biggest effort to look happy and natural- "Wanna see the ultrasound?"

Gerard looked at the scene, and his stomach tightened. Joey seemed to be so happy. The drummer gave Frank his daughter and took the ultrasound from her backpack.

- "Hey! I wanna see it too!"- Ray said, moving closer.

- "That little bean is my baby!"- Joey pointed and chuckled- Can you believe that tiny thing is gonna be a person?!

- "Shit!"- Ray sort of mumbled- "It’s so small!"

- "Ok, kids! outfits ready?"- Brian walked into the room and looked at them- "Neither of you is ready, come on! Move! We are late!"

Matthew finished packing and smiled. He wasn’t carrying much, but it was enough to follow Joey for the next eighteen concerts she had with the band, starting march 21st and until April 23rd. His plan was simple: standing in the first row of every show and cheering for the drummer. He wanted to show her how much he loved her, and he was willing to postpone his whole life for her. He had gotten in trouble in his job for doing that, and he didn’t care. He wanted to be with Joey, and he wanted her to know how much he loved her, and if that meant being fired from Criminal Minds, so be it.

He put the eighteen tickets for the shows he had already gotten in an envelope and smiled pleased.

- "This has to work"- he said out loud- "I mean… it has to, ‘cos I don’t know what to do next…"- he grabbed his phone and looked at the hour.

- “Good luck with the video today”- he wrote and sent.

The latest days had been weird for him and Joey. She would accept to see him when it came to things related to the baby, but of course, she would never let him get too close. The nap they had shared had been the last time he had held her in his arms. The rest of the time, she had been distant, and though he had done his best to stay calm and positive, sometimes it scared him to think maybe he was really going to die trying to get her back.

But “weird” didn’t mean bad, though. And Matthew had made the best of the time he had shared with her. He would bring her treats she liked and would call every morning to know how she felt. She always picked up. That was good; it meant she didn’t hate talking to him.

He also took her to see a nutritionist, to help them make a meal plan, considering Joey wasn’t the healthiest person when it came to meals. They also had a conversation with a personal trainer to help her identify the exercises and movements she could do to train and stay fit those first months. Besides, Matthew kept getting thoughtful presents to make her pregnancy more comfortable, and he brought one every day as an excuse to see her, even for a minute. He got her the pregnancy pillow and customized it as one of his stuffed monsters. He got her natural spa products for her bath to help her relax. He even got a tiny drum for the baby. Joey hated him because she couldn’t stay mad at him if he was being so adorable. He bought her so much food she was sure she was getting fat for eating too much and not because of her pregnancy.

- “Thank you”- his phone dinged, and he quickly read the text, smiling.

- “Wanna come for dinner tonight?”- he wrote and held his breath. It was a bold move, but he needed to play all his cards.

- “Better not, I’ve got an early flight.”- she replied. Joey held the phone in her hands tight, locked in the bathroom. She really didn’t have to change for the video, she just had to put on an MCR t-shirt, and she wanted to fix her hair. Joey wasn’t really going to be in many shots anyway, she just was a support player in the back. She couldn’t take the eyes from the phone, though she knew she had to. She was waiting for Matthew’s answer.

- “Can I stop later to say goodbye?”- and a smile lodged on his lips as he wrote those words. Joey had no idea he was going to be on tour. Joey bit her inner lip as she considered the options. She wanted to see him but didn’t want to give him hope, but he was the father of her kid, but… he cheated.

- “I can bring some dinner, in case you get home tired and you don’t want to cook.”

- “Mother fucker!!”- the girl coursed and sighed- “See you at seven.”

- "Yes!!"- Matthew jumped from his bed and danced around his room on his own. He just had to be calmed and try not to fuck it up. He could do that, right?

Lynz kept a good eye during the whole day, trying to see if Joey would look at Gerard, but she didn’t. They didn’t really talk at all. She knew Joey had told her they weren’t close, which made sense with the scene in front of her. It was like Gerard didn’t exist for the drummer.

- “Isn’t that weird too?”- Mrs. Way thought. She could notice Gerard was concentrated entirely on the whole “making the video” process. He kept checking with the director and making sure everything was ok. Joey talked with Mikey and laughed a lot with Ray. Her husband and the young woman never interacted except during the show. Gerard wouldn’t stop going back to the drum and looking at her every time they had to perform. Just like Lynz had seen in the Valencia show. Joey didn’t seem to pay that much attention. She would be playing, their eyes would crush, they would nod, that was it.

- “Ok, if it doesn’t seem to be anything going on, why can’t I shake these thoughts from my head”- the bassist asked herself as she kept staring at her husband performing.

During the break, Joey walked away from the stage and the noise and locked herself in the bathroom again. She checked her cell phone and read.

- “Do you think we could ever get to be friends?”- and she held her breathing, nearly in shock. The text was from Gerard. When the fuck did he text her? He had been there the whole time. She looked around, but she was alone in the bathroom. She reread it, frowning. Why was he texting her? They had managed to spend weeks talking the minimal, and she was completely in favor of keep doing the same for the rest… of her life, basically. And so she didn’t reply. It was clearly easier for her to stay away from Gerard than from Matthew for obvious reasons.

- "Hey!"- Lynz walked into the bathroom and smiled. Joey kept looking at her reflection in the mirror, fixing her makeup- "How are you feeling?"

- "Like I could puke everything I’ve ever eaten, and at the very same time, so fucking hungry"- the drummer answered with a smile- "How have you been? I haven’t seen you since London."

- "Good, busy, thank God. That’s the only way I can stand being apart from Gerard for so long."

- "It was an eternal tour!"- Joey added- "It felt like a lifetime! Are you coming along these following dates?"

- "Yeah! I’ll be there on April 5th, I have to finish a project I’m doing with a friend, and I’ll take a plane to Canada."

- "Awesome!"- Joey was doing her best to be as normal as possible. Besides, she honestly liked Lynz- "You and Jamia! Finally, I’m not gonna be the only woman around! You have no idea how exciting this is for me. I’ve been around guys my whole life, but I really need a break after these last months. I’m actually hoping to have a girl"- Joey guided her hand to her stomach and chuckled.

- "What did Matthew say, by the way?"- the drummer sighed and closed her eyes- "Sorry, I didn’t mean to… Gerard told me what happened between you two."

- "No, don’t worry"- Joey smiled and sighed again- "Matthew is happy with the baby news."

- "That’s good."

- "He is thrilled, actually. He cried when I told him, cried during the ultrasound, cried when he realized the baby due is close to Halloween."- Joey couldn’t help but smile, remembering his face, tears filling his eyes as she told him she was pregnant. She had never imagined he would be so happy.

- "And how is everything between you two?"

- “Did that little shithead tell his wife everything going on in my life or what?!”- the drummer didn’t answer. She felt pretty awkward knowing Lynz was aware of the whole story.

- "Sorry… I didn’t mean to intrude."

- "It’s ok… I…"- Joey scratched the back of her neck, honestly nervous about explaining her mind- I’m sorry, I’m just not really used to talk about things with people.

- "No, please, I was out of place, I just… Gerard was in shock when he told me, and he said you were pretty affected"- Joey nodded and looked down.

- "Yeah, I was a mess, but I’m better now…"- the two of them stayed in silence for a few seconds, that felt like hours- "I should go back"- Joey pointed to the door, and Lynz nodded.

- "I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable"

- "Don’t worry, I’ve got problems communicating with people… not just in this matter"- Joey tried to smile, though she knew she still looked pretty awkward- "It’s a long story."

- "Hey, no need to explain, really"- Lynz opened her arms and hugged her.

Joey didn’t get a thing. Why was she being so nice? Did Lynz want to be her friend? Was she being honest or just trying to be friendly under the circumstances? Did she want to get closer to her to know if she was crushed on Gerard? There were too many questions around Joey’s head, and she didn’t have the time or the energy to try to find an answer to any of them. She just hugged Lynz back and cut her a friendly smile.

The whole recording process took the entire morning and part of the afternoon. By the time they were done- and gave the kids in the audience a short show of five songs - the band and their families were ready to go home.

- "Bug, we are gonna go grab dinner together. Wanna come?"- Mikey wrapped an arm around Joey and kissed her temple as they all grabbed their things in the dressing room.

- "I’m too tired. I wanna go home."

- "Want me to go with you? Ask for some take-out? Maybe from the Vietnamese place you wanted to try, watch a movie… you know, rest before the tour that’s coming, what do you say?"- Joey smiled but declined.

- "I have plans…"- Mikey raised an eyebrow and nodded.

- "You are gonna see Gubler"- and by the tone in his voice, she knew he wasn’t happy with the news.

- "He is gonna drop by to say goodbye."

- "Sure… are you sure you are ok with him?"

- "What do you mean?"

- "You have been hanging out with him a lot."

- "No, I haven’t!"

- "Name one day this week you haven’t seen him"- Mikey furrowed his brows and crossed his arms on his chest, staring at the drummer.

- "Today?"- she answered, thinking.

- "See?"

- "He keeps bringing presents for the baby. What am I going to say? Stop being such a good dad?"

The whole band was overhearing the conversation. They were all pretty nosey, actually. And the whole Matthew/Joey drama was their favorite subject at the moment.

- "He ain’t trying to be a good dad! He is trying to win you over! Are you gonna let him break your heart again?"

That escalated quickly. Joey stood in front of his friend, not knowing what to say. Lucky for her, Lynz was the one to talk next.

- "Are you jealous, Mikey?"- though her words weren’t really the best to be spoken at the moment. The bassist looked at his sister in law almost in shock, nearly insulted.

- "Not jealous, worried. I am concerned about her ‘cos I don’t want her to get hurt again, is that a fucking sin or what?"

- "No, it’s not! I’m just asking ‘cos you sound like a jealous boyfriend worried his girlfriend is gonna cheat or whatever."

Joey hated Lynz’s comment, every single word in it, ‘cos it was meant to start a fight. Had she said it with those intentions?

- “No, she didn’t… did she? Is she trying to know if Mikey and I are into anything? No, stop being paranoid!”

- "I’m not jealous, Lynz"- Mikey’s words were cold as he responded with a serious face- "I’m just worried and taking care of her. That’s what friends do."

- "Sorry! There’s no need to get all serious."

- "Ok, dinner?"- Ray clapped and tried to lighten the mood- "Let’s go before Frank gets all cranky."

They all nodded and started walking. Gerard made sure to stay a little behind as his wife talked with Jamia and moved closer to Joey.

- "You didn’t answer my text"- he whispered, and the drummer froze in shock, even a little scared. Why was he talking to her? They had managed to spend weeks without saying a word directly to each other. Why did he decide to talk to her the only day they had been around his wife?

- "Sorry, I’ve been busy"- Joey mumbled and started walking quickly to get away from him.

- "And would we ever be friends?"- Gerard asked, following her and talking under breath, making sure no one except her could hear him.

- "Sure, if you stop saying nonsenses, we can be friends."

- "Nonsenses? You mean telling you that I love you?"- the young woman widened her eyes and turned to him immediately.

- "Don’t say that! Ever again!"

- "But I do. I am in love with you, Sugar."

- "And that’s why we can’t be friends"- Joey sentenced and walked to her car, never looking back. She said goodbye to the rest of the band, kissed Cherry and Lily a few times each, and drove home.

- “What the fuck Gerard?!”- she yelled inside her head- “What the fuck is his problem?! His wife was right here? And he keeps telling me that he loves me? is he stupid? Has the stress affected his brain functions? Did he start drinking again?”.

There was no explanation for his behavior, and it freaked Joey out, ‘cos a new leg of the tour was starting the day after, and she didn’t want to face it that way. She didn’t want to travel with Lynz knowing her husband was trying to get into her pants again.

Again, that was the worst part. Joey felt like a whore knowing what had happened with Gerard. She didn’t want to even think about it, but the image kept coming to her mind. His lips on her, kissing her jawline, her neck, her breast… If she hadn’t thought he was Matthew, would she have let him go on? If she wasn’t in love with her ex, would she had sex with Gerard, even knowing he was married?

The answer could actually scare her, ‘cos it was against everything she had ever believed in. But she thought it was possible. The only thing that kept her from having sex with Gerard was that she was in love with Matthew.

If she had sex with Gerard, would she stop loving Matthew? The girl shook her head, frowning, disgusted by her own thoughts. That was never going to be a good idea.

Gerard was in silence, staring at the food in front of him. He didn’t want to eat. He didn’t want to be there. He could hear his friends talking, his wife laughing, but all his mind could register was the fact Joey was now in her apartment with Gubler. With the guy he hated the most in the whole world. With the guy Gerard wanted to be. The guy he was jealous of. The one she loved instead of him. Just the thought of what could happen between them made him sick in the stomach.

Was she going to forgive him? Was she going to have sex with him? Was she going to marry him after all? Matthew was going to be with her that night. He was going to make her laugh, he was going to lean over her slowly and whisper sweet words in her ear. He was gonna make her blush, he was going to get her wet and cream her undies.

The singer shook his head and tried to think of anything else. But he couldn’t.

- "Are you ok?"- his wife asked, frowning- "You haven’t had a bite."

- "I’m not hungry"- Way whispered and tried his best to cut her a nice natural, all innocent smile.

- "Sure?"- Lynz touched his forehead in case he had a temperature, but he was ok- "Do you want to go home and rest?"- the singer nodded right away

- "Yes, I think I need to lay down for a while."

- "Ok, I’ll tell the guys."

Gerard was full of it. But going home and locking himself in his studio sounded like a nice idea. At least there, no one could see him freaking out over the idea of Joey being with someone else but him.

Matthew counted to ten as he stood outside his car and took three deep breaths to calm himself down. He had done the same, like a mantra, each time he walked into Joey’s apartment those days. He had to control himself from running over, from making a mistake. He had to make sure he wasn’t going to mess it up with her, Paget had told him over and over again: he only had one chance to make things right, and he couldn’t fuck it up.

His friend was the only one who knew Matthew was gonna be a dad, and she was as thrilled as he was, mostly ‘cos she knew how badly Gubler wanted to have a baby. And the fact he loved Joey more than anything made it even more perfect. Well, it would be perfect if he hadn’t cheated, but both of them hoped to fix that any time now. As soon as possible, as a matter of fact.

- "Hey"- Matthew smiled as his ex-girlfriend opened the door. She was already in her pajamas, make-up swept off her face, a messy bun on her hair, and some chocolate around her lips. Matthew had never seen her as beautiful as in that moment.

- "Shouldn’t you be quitting sugar already? We agreed no more lava cakes from this week on."

- "I’m eating the leftovers from the fridge, ‘cos it’s all gonna be rotten when I come back, and the whole place is gonna stink"- Joey answered, cleaning the corner of her mouth, turning back to the kitchen.

- "You know chocolate won’t get bad… wait, where did you get chocolate from?"- Joey turned to him and grinned.

- "Frankie got me some"- Gubler nodded and left the take-out boxes on the counter.

- "Are you hungry?"

- "Actually… I don’t know… are you?"

- "A little. But I can wait a while if you want…"- he smiled at her and stared in silence. The young woman turned away to the fridge again and opened it.

- "Anything else that’s gonna spoil while you are away?"- he asked.

- "Not much… peanut butter will live, I guess."

- "Yeah."

- "And ketchup."

- "Yeah… but ketchup was making you sick a few days ago."

- "But who knows next week..."- the conversation between them was so natural, neither of them remembered how bad things were between them for a long while.

They talked about the fridge, the new self-watering system Joey had gotten for her plants, and how excited she was to see her parents again. And that was when Matthew pushed things a little too far.

- "Are you going to tell them about the baby?"

- "I don’t know"- Joey simply answered and walked away from him. She had been walking away from him most of the time he had spent in her apartment, and he kept following her like a lost puppy through the whole place.

- "Why not?"

- "‘Cos they are gonna ask too many things. ‘Cos I want to know if everything is ok with the baby first, wait until he is twelve weeks. And mostly, ‘cos I’m gonna have to tell them you are a cheater mother fucker and that we are not getting married, and I haven’t seen them in forever… I don’t wanna ruin the trip."

- "Maybe you don’t have to tell them we broke up,"- Joey raised an eyebrow and looked at him, standing on the frame of the bathroom door, staring at her putting all her beauty products (the few she had) in a “go-to” bag.

- "Sure, Matthew"- her answer was snarky, and she refused to turn to him.

- "I mean… we don’t have to break up"

- "Again? You wanna do this again?"- her voice was annoyed, making it clear she was tired of talking about their relationship.

- "We’ve danced around the subject all week, and we haven’t properly talked about it."

- "We are over because your cock was in your ex’s mouth the night of your birthday a few weeks ago. That’s all there is to know about that subject. That’s why we are in this fucking shitty situation. And no, Matthew Gray Gubler, I am not going to forgive you! So can you just drop it?!"

A heavy silence hung in the room. Joey lost it, and she ended up yelling. She was tired, she was sad, she was stressed. And most of it, she was anxious and slightly depressed over the whole deal.

- "I’m tired of this shit! We are gonna be parents together. I swear I am doing my best to get along with you and have a healthy relationship. Still, the fact is, I am doing my best to stop fucking loving you ‘cos I am not going to get back together with you! Ever!"

Her words were full of anger, and she couldn’t stop herself from screaming at him.

Matthew looked at Joey in silence. He didn’t know what to say at that. He had a lot of ideas in his head, but all of them were probably just going to get her even more upset. And that was the last thing he wanted to do that minute. And so, he just nodded and turned around and left the room. Joey sat on the edge of the bathtub and bit her lips.

- "I got this for our baby today"- he murmured a few minutes later when he walked back to the bathroom.

- "What is it?"- Joey mumbled and looked at the iPod Matthew gave her- "What? You know the baby won’t use one of these in probably another ten years, right?"

- "It’s not the iPod, it’s what’s in it"- the drummer nodded and wondered what was in it- "I just…"

Matthew cleared his throat. Words came painfully slow from his lips as he spoke.

- "I recorded a few stories and tales and things for the baby, so they can listen to my voice while you are away. That way, they won’t forget me"- Joey’s heart ached in love at those words.

- “This is one smooth loving bastard”- she thought and took a deep breath- "Thank you, that’s very thoughtful"- he shook his head and took a few steps back from her, ‘cos he knew all his body wanted was to lean over her and kiss her.

- "It’s nothing"- he sighed and made a pause- "I’m just worried if we are not gonna be together again, my baby might forget about me."

Those words broke Joey’s already broken heart. The sadness that Matthew’s face reflected showed her how bad he was feeling and reminded her that this was also a troubled time for him. Even when he was the one that had brought those problems to their relationship.

- "I promise you, that’s never gonna happen. You are always going to be our baby’s dad, and you are always going to be part of their life, no matter what"- he nodded and looked down, biting the inner part of his cheeks.

- "I think I better go"- Joey didn’t want him to go. He didn’t want to go, but her words had been so hard, they had left him speechless. Uneasy. Depressed.

- "You…"- the young woman stood up and took a deep breath, not know what to say- "You can take your part of dinner if you want."

That was not what she wanted to say. She wanted to say, “I’m sorry I just said all that in the nastiest way possible. I fucking love you, stay with me and hold me ‘cos I am scared and sad and alone”. But that was not what came out from her lips.

Matthew nodded and walked to the kitchen. He sighed and closed his eyes as he grabbed his box of Chinese noodles. That evening hadn’t come out as he was hoping. It had actually been the complete opposite. He had fucked it up. Making Joey upset only caused more pain to the two of them. He knew she would say things in the most painful way possible, not because she wanted to, but because that’s how she reacted when hurt. Hurting back. Hurting deeper.

Joey stood in the middle of the hall, watching Matthew grab all his things and turn to her.

- "Take care"- he whispered, and she nodded slowly.

- "You too."

- "I’ll call you to know about the baby bean"- she nodded again.

- "Of course. I’ll see you when I come back, and we’ll have another check-up"- he looked at her as she whispered those words. Each one of them hurt as they left her lips, ‘cos they were goodbye words, and she didn’t want to say goodbye.

Matthew just stood there, staring at her, not knowing how to move. He didn’t have the strength to walk away from her at that moment. Still, the words she had just practically yelled at him were a warning he was pushing her, and by pushing, he was never going to make things better. He had such a sad look in his eyes, Joey took a step closer to him. He kept his eyes on hers, almost holding his breath.

- "And… thank you for being here with us"- she held her hand on her tiny belly as she spoke- "I know it’s hard and all, I just… want you to know… I appreciate it."

- "They are my baby too"- he simply answered with a short and sad smile on his lips- "I would do anything for the two of you, any day."

Joey bit her lips and took another step closer. He stood still, not knowing what to do. Joey walked slowly to him and stood right in front of him.

- "Sorry about what I said"- she managed to whisper.

- "No, Joey, please don’t apologize, you said what you said ‘cos it’s the truth, and I understand how mad you are… please don’t say you are sorry for something I brought to myself, to the two of us"- Matthew made a pause and sighed, his eyes stuck into Joey’s- "To the three of us, actually"- she nodded slowly.

- "I didn’t want you to leave with an argument if we were not going to see each other until another month"- Joey managed to murmur but couldn’t hold her eyes in Matthew’s for another second, and so she looked down.

- "I didn’t want to start a fight either…"

The two of them stayed in silence. The distance between them was so small Matthew could hold her tight if he only took one step ahead. But he controlled himself. It was one of the most challenging efforts he had ever made, and he moved his hand to her chin, lifting her face sweetly.

- "Take care, ok?"- his eyes traveled slowly from her lips to her eyes, and he noticed how her cheeks blushed sweetly.

- "Ok"- she whispered, nodding.

- "I’ll call you"- she didn’t say a thing and just nodded again. Matthew moved carefully over her and landed his lips on her forehead. It was the sweetest touch Joey had ever recalled feeling from him. So delicate and tender, and at the same time with such intense love. It was impossible for her not to close her eyes and feel her knees trembling. He stared at her in silence and smiled shyly before whispering “Goodnight” and walking out of her house.

Joey stared at the door and restrained herself from the deep desire to run after him and wrap her arms around his neck, to kiss him deeply. She didn’t. She couldn’t. She shouldn’t. Instead, she walked to her couch and laid down, wrapping her arms around her legs, feeling how warm tears fell from her eyes. How many times can a heartbreak after being broken? ‘Cos every time Matthew said goodbye, her heart ached, just like the day they broke up. And her body ached, feeling the empty space he left by her side.

- "I love you so fucking much"- she mumbled, sobbing. Tears kept falling like a waterfall until she fell asleep.

::: March 31st, 2011. Oakland :::

Mikey looked at Joey as they walked into the hotel and checked in. They had hardly shared a word that day, ever since they left California. She sat with Jamia and helped with the babies the whole trip, and her plan was to continue to do the same until it was time to play the show.

- "Are you mad?"- he asked out of the blunt as he stood next to her in the middle of the lobby, both waiting for their room keys.

- "No, why?"

- "You are not talking to me."

- "You haven’t talked to me either"- she answered with a shrug- "Are you mad at me?"- Joey furrowed her brows as she spoke, thinking maybe that was the point, and she never actually noticed it.

- "No"

- "Then?"

- "Are you ok?"

- "I’m tired and puked breakfast on the plane, you?"

- "I’m tired and drank three coffees on the plane ‘cos I couldn’t sleep"- Joey nodded at her friend’s words- "Why does it feel weird?"- Mikey pointed out and crossed his arms on his chest

- "I don’t know... - the drummer answered and looked at his shoes- "I love those boots."

- "I’m not gonna give them to you. They are not your number."

- "Shut up"- Joey cut him a short smile, and he did the same- "I hated Lynz’s comment last night"- Joey confessed and kicked Mikey’s boot friendly

- "Me too… Gerard said I was too rude to her."

- "You were, but she kind of deserved it"- Mikey chuckled at Joey’s confession- "Really, I just hated so much how she was insinuating you were jealous of whatever, considering she has no idea we are best friends!

- "I know! I thought the same"

- "That’s ‘cos we are best friends"- Joey added and smiled, giggling. Mikey looked at her and wrapped his arms around her slowly.

- "Did you have a good night after you saw that asshole?"

- "Yeah, it was ok"- Joey lied, hiding her face in his chest- "He brought dinner and left."

- "Good"- they rocked slowly, still hugged. Mikey kissed the top of her head and whispered- "I’m not jealous."

- "I know"

- "I’m just scared"

- "Why?"- Joey moved apart from him but never got an answer. Jeffrey showed up and gave them their keys.

- "Get ready. We’ve got an interview in an hour here in the conference room"- the bassist frowned, nodding.

- "Good news for me, I get to get some more sleep"- Joey added and stuck out her tongue to Mikey.

- "I hate you"

- "I know."

Gerard looked at his brother talking with Joey. He saw how they hugged. How he kissed the top of her head. How she smiled at him sweetly and hid her face on his chest. They looked like a fucking couple, and he hated everything about it.

- "Stop it"- Ray said and stood next to him- "I thought you were gonna be over your fucking obsession by now"- he pointed out with an eased tone of voice like he was just talking about the weather.

- "You are gonna fuck everything up if you keep looking at her like that"

- "What do you know?"

- "I know she won’t talk to you at all, and I think there has to be a reason I don’t know"- Gerard stayed still, pretending those hadn’t hurt him. Or scared him. He didn’t even look at Ray as he spoke.

- "And I know you like her, so stay away from her before you do something that ruins everything."

- "I’m not gonna ruin anything."

- "Your wife is gonna be here soon."

- "I love my wife."

- "I know… just try not to stare at Joey drooling, like she is the object of your undeniable desire and love when Lynz is around."

Gerard turned to his friend and tried to say something back, but nothing came out.

- "And for the love of God, don’t fuck it up!"- Ray tapped on his back and walked away.

Gerard Way was busted. He was fucked. And it was the first day of the tour.

Matthew laid on his bed and sighed. He was in Oakland, staying at a hotel two blocks from Joey’s. He had made sure not to book his room in the same place as her, to keep a safe distance in case she got too mad- which was always an option with her, especially under those circumstances. Those were the worst circumstances they had ever faced, so Matthew was being extra precautious. Even more after what had happened the night before. He was still angry with himself for pushing her too much. He had to be patient.

- “Let’s hope she won’t get angry with me for doing this.”- he thought and stared at the ceiling. He could only stay still for a minute or so. He quickly moved to his bag, grabbed a book and his phone.

- "Hey"- Joey’s voice at the other side of the line made him smile right away

- "Hello, how was your trip?"

- "It was ok"- Joey cleared her throat and looked at her feet as she walked around her room. She felt weird and awkward talking to Matthew after what had happened the night before- "How are you?"

- "I’m ok…"

- "How are you feeling from the bruises from the car crash?"

- "Like nothing ever happened"

- "Good…"- there was a silence on the line. Matthew could hear Joey’s breathing as she scratched the back of his neck and said the first thing that came to his mind.

- "So at what time is the concert tonight?"

- "At eight"

- "Good… and… are you having lunch soon?"

- "I don’t know. I was thinking about napping now and maybe grab a late bite before going to the arena."

- "Remember the nutritionist said you shouldn’t skip meals"- the drummer sighed, knowing he was right.

- "But I’m so sleepy, I’m gonna fall asleep on the table eating."

- "You couldn’t sleep last night? “God knows I couldn’t.”

- “I did. “No, I didn’t. I stayed up crying and thinking about how much I love you, damn it!”

- "Then why are you so tired?"

- "Maybe because I’m turning food into a human being"- Matthew chuckled at those words, and Joey smiled, listening to his reaction.

- "That seems to be a good reason. I’m sorry I questioned you"- the girl kept the grin on her face for a second

- "That’s ok. I should really go grab something to eat and then nap. You are right about that."

- "Talk to you later?"- he asked as casually as possible- "Maybe after the show, to know how you are feeling?"

- "Yeah, sure. Talk to you later, bye."

Matthew hung up and sighed. Just a few more hours and his plan to get his girl back would start. His stomach tightened as he imagined what Joey was gonna say when she saw him. Was she going to be mad? Was she going to be happy? Was the band going to hit him? There were too many questions for him to answer, so he did the only thing he could do: lay on his bed and grab the book he was carrying.

Jamia, the babies, and Joey had lunch together. The drummer loved having her around ‘cos she wasn’t alone back in the hotel all the time like she was in Europe, and that meant less time to overthink everything. She loved hanging out with Jamia ‘cos she was too nice and understanding with her. It felt like they could be friends. Jamia considered Joey her friend already, meanwhile the young woman still had trouble opening up with people.

Though she had to be honest with herself. The latest months had changed a lot of the things that made her a loner. It was all Matthew and My Chem. Except for Gerard. But for Joey, Gerard wasn’t really in the picture anymore. He was the guy she needed and wanted to avoid at any cost. Even if that cost meant to leave the band.

- "So… have you thought of any name already?"- Jamia and Joey were at the drummer’s room. The babies were napping, and the two women were laid on the bed, eating Oreos.

- "Not really… I just…"

- "It’s not real yet?"

- "It’s so not real yet"- Joey whispered and chuckled- "I keep looking at the ultrasound, and I can’t believe there’s a baby in my tummy… I bet I ate a sea monkey at some point, and that’s what’s been growing inside me"- Jamia snorted as she tried to keep it down and nearly laughed out loud.

- "Wait until the sea monkey starts kicking. That’s the weirdest thing of all"

- "You are not making it magical, J"- Joey made a pause and chuckled- "You are so gonna be J from now on"- and Jamia smiled.

- "Sounds nice coming from you."

- "Good, ‘cos I think I’ve got no more brain cells to think of anything else."

- "Oh honey! You are just starting!"- Mrs. Iero tapped on her friend’s leg as the two of them laid back next to the babies- "You have months of exciting emotions, like pregnancy arousal, cravings, hormonal changes, hair coming in weird places, and my personal favorite, pregnancy brain"- Joey frowned disgustedly.

- "I’m afraid to ask about the arousal, the hair, and the brain shit"

- "Whenever you are ready, I am here."

- "You are my Jamia San Kenobi"- Joey chuckled and sighed- "My pregnancy Jedi master"- and Jamia smiled.

- "I’m glad I can help"- and after a few minutes, they were both asleep as well.

The doors to the theater opened at five, and Matthew ran inside to make sure to grab a spot on the first row. He nearly tackled a few teenagers to get there. But he did and sighed, relieved at his success.

- "Hey! Where are you? did you make it?"- Paget called and didn’t even say hello to her friend. She just started asking questions right away, making him chuckle.

- "Hey! Yeah, I’m in Oakland, already at the theater. It’s a very cool venue, small, intimate… I’m almost sure Joey is gonna get to see me."

- "Are you in the first row?"

- "Of course, I am"

- "Good"- Paget smiled and nodded- "We miss you around here."

- "I’ll be there when everything is ok."

- "We know."

- "Is anyone mad at me?"- and Paget chuckled.

- "No, actually everybody thinks you are the sweetest and most romantic guy on earth following your girlfriend like that."

- "I’m following her to get her to be my girlfriend again, actually."

- "You get the point"- and Matthew chuckled- "Ok, Gubler, gotta go, please call me and tell me how this went."

- "Of course!"

- "Hey! Wait! Did you make a banner?"

- "Yes! I remembered your advice and got a banner."

- "What does it say?"

- “The distance is nothing when one has a motive”- the actor confessed proudly

- "Pride and Prejudice?"- Paget asked, puzzled.

- "Yes, her favorite, I’m making her banners with quotes from her favorite books"- and his friend sighed.

- "Stop it! I am gonna end up falling for you!"- and the actor chuckled- "If she doesn’t take you back, I am single!"

- "Shut up!"- Paget laughed, knowing Matthew had blushed, though he knew she was joking.

- "Call me later."

- "Sure thing!"

Joey kept jumping on her spot. She was backstage, feeling really psyched to play that day. She didn’t really know why. Maybe it was the two hours nap she had taken that afternoon with Cherry and Lily. Perhaps the fun size Snicker Mikey had just given her, breaking her meal plan on the first day on the road.

- "You look extra happy today"- and it all stopped the second she heard Gerard’s voice next to her.

- "Hey, yeah… I think it’s a sugar rush"- she answered and looked around, feeling safer knowing everybody was around her, including Jamia and the babies.

- "How are you feeling?"

- "Good"- Joey smiled and nodded- "You?"

- "Good… but I’m not pregnant"- the girl smiled and looked away from him, trying to keep that conversation as casual and distant as possible.

- "You look gorgeous, by the way"- Gerard whispered and even blushed as he moved a little closer to her- "I guess it’s true pregnant women glow and grow in beauty."

Joey took a step back and gulped as she felt her cheeks burning red as Gerard just continued talking.

- "‘Cos each time I see you, you catch my breath."

- "Please don’t..."

- "I’m just being nice"- Gerard smiled, pretending to look as innocent as possible.

- "You and I both know that’s not what you are doing."

- "Hey Iceland"- Frankie appeared all of a sudden and wrapped an arm around the young girl, kissing her temple and giving Gerard a glare that forced the singer to take a few steps back.

- "What are you guys talking about?"- and Joey sighed, relieved to feel him next to her, like a little guardian angel, though Frank Iero had nothing angelic.

- "I was just telling Joey she looks gorgeous today and that pregnant women are beautiful"- Gerard answered like it wasn’t a big deal at all. Joey wanted to run away or hide under a rock. Frank just tightened his arm around her and nodded.

- "Yes, she does… wanna help with my warm-up?"

That was the most random question Iero could come up with that second, but it didn’t matter, ‘cos Joey smiled and quickly said yes, escaping from Gerard’s presence. But not from his eyes that followed her through the room. He wasn’t worried anyone could see how much he loved her, ‘cos he didn’t want to hide it anymore. Not until Lynz was there, at least. But that was a problem he would face when the right time came, in a week or so.

- "What can I help you with, Jersey?"- Joey asked as Frank grabbed a few kettlebells and started making bicep curls.

- "Absolutely nothing, you just looked like you wanted to get the fuck away from him, and I decided to rescue you"- the young woman wanted to deny it all, but at that point, she was just so glad Frank had taken her away from Gerard, she just nodded and smiled.

- "You are such a smart guy"

- "You are gonna make me blush…"

- "Can I use one?"- she casually asked, pointing out the kettlebell.

- "Definitely not! You’re not lifting any weight until we talk with your doctor"- Joey rolled her eyes and shook her eyes.

- "We already did that. I am ok to work out… I just can’t… run and… carry heavyweights"- Frank raised an eyebrow, and she smiled guilty- "Sorry, I just love lifting weights."

- "Have your baby first, then we care gonna train like we are fucking CrossFit athletes"- the soon-to-be mother chuckled and reached out her hand to her friend.

- "Jersey, we’ve got a date."

The crowd was running anxious, and so was Matthew. He had stayed put on his spot in the first row, right in front of the drumset like his life depended on it, no matter how much kids would try to push him away.

- “This is gonna work, this is gonna work, this is gonna work,”- he kept repeating in his head as he felt the weight of two thousand people pushing him against the security fence.

The crowd started yelling louder and jumping as the band appeared on stage. And along with them came his girl.

His breath was caught in his throat as he looked at her walking to the drum, a huge smile lodged on her lips. She looked so happy, happy like she had always looked when playing. There was nothing Joey loved more than her job. She had fought so much to get there, Matthew could barely get a glimpse of how good she felt playing as a professional drummer.

Looking at her sitting behind the drum in a My Chemical Romance concert, with that sweet and happy grin on her face, made him fall a thousand times harder in love with her. He felt proud of her and jealous of all the people who had been able to see her glowing in joy in the latest months when he had been away from her.

- “You fucked it up! Now fix it!”

Gubler never noticed the countdown of the music had started, and all the kids were yelling every word in “Look Alive Sunshine” until Gerard’s voice took him from his thoughts. Joey started playing, and the singer yelled.

- Oakland!! Make some noise!!- and the show started.

The whole crowd jumped, and Matthew jumped along with them, his eyes locked in Joey, who was lost in her drum. He smiled, watching how her lips now moved along with the song, murmuring the lyrics. Of course, she had toured with them long enough to learn all the lyrics of each song. She would probably deny it but sing them in the shower when she knew no one was listening.

The first one who spotted Matthew was Mikey. He frowned as he looked at Gubler standing in the first row, not getting what the fuck was going on. But Matthew never cared -he hadn’t actually considered- the fact the band could spot him in the audience. There was no one else on that stage but Joey for him, and that’s why she was the only person he had eyes for.

As soon as “Na Na Na” ended, Mikey walked to Frank. The intro of “Mama” started, so the bassist talked as fast as possible.

- "Dude, Gubler is here"- Iero looked at him frowning- "The first row, staring at Joey"- Frank looked over and saw him. He hadn’t seen him ever since New Year, and if there was one thing the Jersey boy was dying to do was to break Matthew’s face so hard no one would ever recognize him again.

- "Mother fucker"- he said and didn’t take his eyes from the actor- "I’m gonna kill him!"

But at the moment, he didn’t have the chance, ‘cos he had to play a show. But for a second, he and Mikey shared a look and turned to Joey. She was playing, eyes shut, smiling. They knew she still had no idea what was going on. And that was ok for them.

It wasn’t long until Gerard found the actor. It wasn’t hard to see him ‘cos he was the tallest guy in the front row and the only one who wasn’t looking at him. Matthew was the guy who stood still, hypnotized with each movement of the drummer, drooling over her like a kid staring at his first love. Gerard felt how his whole body shook in anger. Even his hands shook with a deep desire to kill him. Right there, in front of everybody. But he couldn’t. He had to keep on singing, keep on playing. Keep on pretending everything was ok, not just for the show and the kids, but for Joey too. He kept wishing she hadn’t seen him yet. Maybe she could never see him.

But the singer needed to let Gubler know he was fucked. And so he stood right in front of him, at the very edge of the stage, and managed it to catch his eyes. Both of them looking at each other in such deep hate, it was obvious the pair knew they despised each other. Gerard didn’t think about it twice. He had the higher ground. It would be a shame not to take advantage. And so, he spit on Matthew, and an evil smirked lodged on him as he saw him cleaning his face in anger. That was a little piece of sweet, sweet revenge. But it still wasn’t enough to make the actor pay for everything he had put Joey through.

Ray widened his eyes when he spotted Matthew, just the second Gerard spitted on him. He saw the whole moment in action and knew it was gonna be hell after the show. What was Gubler doing there? Trying to get Joey back. Ray knew that moment was gonna come, eventually. Toro knew how much Matthew loved her. It was crystal clear for everybody to see.

Ray was the only one who could keep a cold head to analyze the whole picture, and that’s why he always tried to remind his friends Joey and Matthew weren’t a subject they could decide on. It wasn’t something related to them at all, though they were friends with her. They were their own thing, a thing they could merely watch but never ever control. It was clear neither of his friends had listened, and so Toro sighed. He was going to have to stop a big fight after that concert.

- "The next song"- Gerard said after “House of Wolves” was over. It was Joey’s favorite song, and they played it as often as possible- "It’s about being a kid, about you being a kid, about me being a kid, about us being a kid, about you having a kid"- Joey raised her eyes from the drums and looked straight into Gerard’s eyes. That’s when she heard him.

- "Yami!!"- it was Matthew’s voice, but it couldn’t be. Joey frowned and looked around.

- "Yami!!"- he yelled and raised the banner. Frank, Mikey, and Gerard looked at him in the most honest and pure hate anyone could have ever seen from them. Ray tried to concentrate on Joey. She was the one he cared about at that second. And when he saw the puzzled expression on her face as she looked at him, asking what was going on, Ray couldn’t control himself and pointed at the actor.

Joey’s heart stopped. It was Matthew, it was really him, standing there, on the first row of the concert, staring at her with the biggest smile anyone had ever had around her in her life. And he was holding a banner that read, “The distance is nothing when one has a motive.” She couldn’t move. She didn’t know what to do. He just smiled at her and mouthed, “I love you.”

- "Bug!! Bug, are you ok?"- Mikey waved in front of the drum and looked worried at the girl. She just nodded at him and then at Frankie, who stood next to the bassist.

- "Yeah, I’m ok"- she smiled and started counting. It was time to play “Kids from yesterday.”

Everybody loved that song, and she wasn’t going to fuck it up, not even if her eyes and mind were stuck looking at Matthew in front of her, as he kept smiling like a kid on Christmas morning as she played.

Gerard stared at the scene, and it felt he was gonna make a tantrum in the middle of the stage. Joey was staring at Matthew, and her whole face had lit up, even if she didn’t want to. And just like a little child, Gerard made sure to stand right between the two of them to stop them from looking at each other. And like if they could all build a fortress, Frank and Mikey stood around the drumset, protecting Joey, trying to make sure Matthew knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere near her, over their dead bodies.

Matthew didn’t give a damn. He just wanted to look at her. He just wanted her to know she was the most important person in his life and that he was willing to drop anything and everything just to be near her.

The song was ending. Joey kept playing drums, her eyes glued to Matthew’s, until Mikey stared at her, counting the beat at the song’s end. She nodded at her friend and kept playing, both of them, the two of them, to finish the song together, just like they had done for over five months now, in perfect timing. Joey loved that part, and he knew it, ‘cos it was the only part of the show they had a little solo. Mikey was happy Matthew didn’t take that moment from them. At least he felt Joey was still in the zone, playing and being present at the show and not lost in thoughts.

Joey was lost in thoughts, she was making her best to play a good show. But Matthew’s appearance had moved the ground underneath her feet. It had been the biggest and warmest surprised she had had in a long time.

“I’m not ok” set the mood for the rest of the concert. No one on that stage was ok. But Gerard was the one affected the most. He would sing, giving his back to the audience and looking at Joey as often as possible. He knew that was going to drive Matthew insane, but it also helped him stay focused.

His eyes locked in Joey’s face tried to read her. She looked… happier. And that hurt, ‘cos though Gerard knew she didn’t love him back, it didn’t help to know he was still in her heart. It was so obvious she was in love with him even a blind man would see it. Even Joey would try to keep her eyes shut or look away, she would always end up looking at Matthew, and Gerard could swear a smile lodged on her lips each time she saw the actor. It made him want to punch a wall, or Gubler’s face, whatever came first.

- "Give me all your fucking money!!"- Gerard yelled and ran to the drum set as Joey started playing “Vampire Money” with a huge smile- "Are you ready, Ray!!"

- "Yeah!"

- "How about you, Sugar?"

- "Yeah!!"

- "How about you, Frank?"

- "Fuck you, Gubler!"- he answered, and Joey turned to him in shock, though Iero looked at her with the cutest and most adorable smile on earth.

- "How about you, Mikey?"- Gee yelled

- "Fucking ready!"

- "I think I’m alright."

Gerard would always call Joey “Bug” when he addressed her in that part of the show. It was the only moment of the day he could call her by a nickname, and “Bug” was her official band nickname. But that day, Way wanted to make a difference. He wanted to make it sound a little more personal than it was in real life. “Sugar” fit perfectly, and in his mind, Gerard would always call her Sugar.

Somehow, being so angry brought a different energy to the band while playing. They were mad into it. Gerard sang as his life depended on it, while Mikey wouldn’t stop moving, and looking in the most threatening way possible at Gubler, every once in a while. Frank would jump and yell and shout, playing his guitar with the energy of a caffeinated hyper ten years old. Matthew never even saw them. He couldn’t care less. All there was for him on that stage was Joey behind the drum, looking at him with the corner of her eye every couple of minutes.

She didn’t know what to think or what to feel. She was in shock. What was Matthew doing there? What was he going to do next? What was he planning? Joey needed to run away from that stage and hide under a gigantic pillow ‘cos she had no idea how to face what was going on, though, at the same time, she was dying to run to Matthew and hug him. She just felt so good to know he had followed her to see her one more time. She felt special like he always made her feel.

Gerard started singing Cancer, and Joey turned to one side of the stage. Jamia looked at her, literally waving. She could perfectly read her lips, “What the fuck?” and the drummer could only shrug.

- "Hey"- Mikey appeared in front of the drummer and cut him a quick, shy smile- "Are you ok?"

- "Yeah, just surprised."

- "You knew?"

- "I had no idea"- he nodded and looked around

- "Just a few more songs, then we can go hide and eat a pretty good dinner"- Joey smiled at him and watched him walk back to his side of the stage.

But Joey didn’t want to hide in her room and eat dinner with Mikey. Though she refused to admit it, all she wanted to do was to stand in front of Matthew and feel his eyes fondling her skin as he talked to her, just like he was doing at that moment, from a distance. She could feel his eyes running up and down her skin, though she didn’t look at him.

Jamia nearly jumped on Joey as soon as the girl reached backstage. The babies were miraculously sound asleep. No one got how, considering a huge rock concert had been happening that whole time a few meters away from them.

- "Oh my god, what the fuck??!"- Jamia made her best to whisper/scream to not wake the babies, but to make Joey wide open her eyes and frown.

- "I swear I have no idea!!"

- "He is adorable!!"

- "He is a cheater Jamia"- Frank interrupted his wife and took off his shirt, frowning- "And you shouldn’t be that excited. He is just trying to win her over."

- "He is being romantic, Frank"- Jamia corrected him and looked at Joey again- "What are you gonna do?"

- "I don’t know"

- "Call him!!"

Jamia was the closest to a best friend from high school Joey had ever had. Sure, back in the days, she had Tabatha, but her friend had her share of social life, and Joey was always shut down to any kind of social interaction. Now Jamia was talking about boys and telling her to call one. If that was high school talk, Joey had no idea what it was.

But before she could actually make a decision, her phone rang in her backpack, and J widened her eyes in excitement.

- "I swear to God, Jamia! you are just acting like this ‘cos you think he is hot!"- Frank turned around to see his wife, clearly annoyed, as Joey grabbed her phone and held it tight in her hands, not knowing what to do.

- "I’m just being honest with my friend. He is being cute and asking for a second chance. Coming unannounced to a concert with a cute banner is the sweetest thing I’ve seen a guy doing for love!"- Jamia stopped talking, and Joey’s cell stopped ringing. She looked at it feeling disappointed, until a second later, it started ringing again.

- "For Christ’s sake! Answer!"- Jamia sounded annoyed, and Joey did as told, not really thinking about her own actions. She just… deep down wanted to do it.

- "Hello?"

- "Hey..."- Matthew stood still in the middle of the arena, waiting for the kids to leave the place, he was anxious to know what Joey thought of what he had done, and though he had thought about waiting for a while to call her, he just couldn’t control himself.

- "What was that?"- Joey asked, blushing, as she locked herself in the bathroom.

- "That was me dying to see you, traveling to Oakland to be with you, even from a distance"

- "Why did you do that?"- Joey managed to ask, feeling she was nearly mumbling each word.

- "‘Cos I love you, ‘cos I miss you…"

Neither of them was able to say another word. Matthew was nervous and didn’t know how Joey managed the whole situation, though her voice sounded peaceful and calm. That should be a good sign.

- "You shouldn’t have…"- she whispered and felt her heart was about burst inside her chest

- "Do you wanna come out for a minute and talk?"- she wanted to, so badly, but it scared her to think what would happen if Frank, or even Gerard, got near Gubler.

- "Where are you?"

- "Still here"

- "You haven’t moved?"

- "Nop"- Matthew smiled and looked around- "I don’t know if they are planning to kick me out though"

- "Give me five minutes, I’ll change into something dry, and I’ll be right there."

Gerard Way was in hell. Literally burning alive as he watched Joey walking out of the bathroom in a fresh shirt and combed hair made a ponytail. She had even fixed her makeup.

- “God! She even got pretty for him!! What the fuck?! How can she be so eager to forgive him?!”- his eyes could burn holes in the wall as he did his best to look away from Joey.

- "Hey Bug, what are you gonna do?"- Mikey asked her as he stood next to her and held her hands. Gerard hated that too. He had managed to decode each movement from his brother around Joey like he was her couple. Lynz’s words had really fucked up with his brain. And if he was jealous of Mikey before, now it was turning into something worse.

- "I’m gonna go talk to him"

- "Are you sure that’s a good idea?"- Mikey looked worried, but Joey smiled at him and held his hand tighter.

- "Yeah, don’t worry, I’m gonna be ok."

- "If he does anything to you, I’m gonna break his fucking face"- Frank added from the other side of the room, already in a clean shirt and now holding one of the babies in his arms. For someone who sounded so threatening, he surely didn’t look the part.

- "It’s ok kids, let Joey take her own decisions, ok?"- Ray finally spoke up and sighed- "She knows we are here for her no matter what, but she has to do what her heart tells her to do."

- "Thank you, dad, but don’t think for a minute I’m gonna forgive him"

- "Even if you do, Bug. You will always count on me"- the guitarist walked to her and kissed her temple.

- "Best dad ever"- she whispered and opened the door.

Matthew felt his heart stop in his chest when he saw her walking over to him. He did the only thing that came to his mind and raised the banner he still held in his hands, so she could find him. It wasn’t hard to see him. There weren’t many people left at the arena, mostly just the crew setting everything to go.

- "Hey"- Joey said and waved as she walked to him and stood right in front of him. Just like she had imagined, she could feel the warmth of her eyes traveling down her face as he stared at her in pure bliss and love.

- "Hey"- he replied and smiled. He didn’t really want to talk. He didn’t know what to say. All he could think of was to kiss her and hold her tight.

- "What are you doing here, Matthew?"- she finally asked and crossed her arms on her chest to remind herself she couldn’t feel anything but anger against him and that she shouldn’t be so happy to see him. Or worse, she shouldn’t be showing him how happy she was to see him.

- "I just wanted you to know how much I love you"

- "By traveling to San Francisco to see a show?"

- "With a handmade banner"- he added and smiled.

- “That damn fucking adorable smile is gonna be the end of me,”- Joey sighed, thinking what to say next, making her best to stay calmed and not drooling over him.

- "That was a good touch."

- "Thanks, just like Lizzy, I would walk any distance just to be with you ‘cos you are my whole purpose."

Joey nodded, melting inside, as she made her best to stay cold and look indifferent. She didn’t know if it was working, but she wanted to believe so.

- "I’m not gonna forgive you just 'cos you showed up unannounced to a show"- that was all that came to her mind, it wasn’t the most intelligent answer, but it was all she had.

- "I wasn’t expecting you to forgive me today"- he simply replied and shrugged. There was a weird mix of security and happiness around his whole attitude Joey couldn’t wrap her mind around.

- "Good"- that was the whole answer she could give him, furrowing her brows. Matthew stared at her in silence for a second and took a step forward, closing the gap between them a little.

- "It was an amazing show, by the way"- he said and smiled. Joey’s knees shook as a response.

- "Thanks"- she whispered and looked down

- "How’s the little bean?"

- "Good… floating, I guess. I’ve felt pretty good today."

- "That’s great"- the two of them nodded at the same time and stayed quiet- "Remember to play the tracks I made for the bean."

- "Yeah, I will tonight."

- "They are just for the baby, so no peeking, ok?"- Matthew’s voice felt velvety as he talked close to Joey. She managed to raise her eyes from the ground, and Gubler swore his heart could be heard from any corner of that arena as it beat harder just to feel her looking at him.

- "I’ll put the headphones on the belly, so it will be the first secret you can share with your baby"- she smiled at the end of her answer, and Matthew held his breath.

- "That’s the cutest thing I could think of"- he mumbled, and the two of them stared in silence, sharing a moment that was a mix between love and angst.

Joey was still fighting to get away from him and stay mad at him. She had to play over and over again, like an old movie, the pictures she saw of Matthew cheating, just to keep herself from wrapping her arms around his neck.

- "Does she look in pain to you?!"- Jamia pushed Frank back as he kept trying to walk towards Joey and Matthew and drag her away from him.

- "She is gonna cry! He is gonna make her cry!"

- "Frank! This is not your war! Look at them and tell me they are not in love! If this was a cartoon, there would be hearts above their heads!"- Jamia was right, but Frank didn’t want to listen.

- "Hey!! Asshole!!"- Frank yelled, and Joey turned to him, frowning- "Stay the fuck away from her!!"

- "Oh shit!"- the words sneaked through her lips as Matthew looked at Frank and didn’t find anything better to do but to wave, infuriating Iero even more- "You know he wants to kill you, right?"

- "I am aware… the way they all looked at me made it pretty clear during the show, Gerard actually spit on my face."

The way Matthew said, it didn’t sound like it was a big deal. But it was, and Joey’s eyes were wide open as soon as she heard him.

- "He did what??!"- and she shouted- "Who the fuck does he think he is??!"

The young woman’s face was red in anger, and she quickly turned around and headed to the backstage area. But Matthew stopped her, grabbing her hand quickly.

- "Hey! Hey! Calm down, it’s ok! I don’t care!"

- "But I care!! This has nothing to do with him! He is not even my friend!! What the fuck does he think he is doing?!"

Unfortunately, the scene didn’t really look good from a distance, and Frank watching them, not getting what they were talking about, could only see his friend trying to get rid of Matthew and him not letting her go.

- "Take your hands off her!!"- Frank shouted and ran over, Jamia following close behind- "I said let go!!"- he pushed Matthew and put an arm in front of Joey, trying to keep her back.

- "What the fuck, dude?"- Joey shouted.

- "I don’t want him to hurt you, Bug!"

- "I’m not hurting her!!"- Matthew frowned, feeling insulted- "Why would I hurt the mother of my baby?!"

- "He ain’t hurting me!!"- Joey supported him, ‘cos Frank actually ignored Gubler’s words

- "Doesn’t look like he is being pretty nice either!!"

- "Frank! Stop it! Joey says nothing is going on!"- Jamia held Frank’s arm as Matthew tried to cool down the mood.

- "Hey! Nothing is going on"- Gubler used the calmest voice he could to talk to Iero- "I understand you wanna protect Joey from me ‘cos I was an asshole and fucked it up, but I am not gonna hurt her!! Ok?"

- "What fuck do you know! You broke her, and I am not gonna let you near her again!"- and just like the day Mikey had told him the same, Matthew’s heart tightened in his chest, listening to Frank yelling how badly he had hurt the woman he loved.

- "I can take care of myself!!"- Joey shouted- "So stop it! Now let me go kill that mother fucker!!"- the drummer turned around and started jogging to the dressing room. But Matthew followed her quickly and grabbed her hand again.

- "Please don’t! Joey, I don’t care! He can do whatever he wants to do. That ain’t gonna stop me!"

- "You don’t get it! I hate the guy! And the fact he thinks he can come and spit on your face like he is the fucking king of the world, or that he can avenge my sorrow, it’s wrong!!"- Joey pushed and let go of Matthew’s grip and continued her way until she opened the door and found Gerard, Mikey, and Ray playing with the twins.

- "Hey Bug"- Mikey turned and smiled, but Joey ignored him, ‘cos her eyes were locked on Gerard’s, staring at him with pure hate.

- "What the fuck is your problem, kúkalabbi (scumbag)?"- she spit every word with contempt- "You fucking think you can come and do whatever you want ‘cos you are the fucking lead singer of a band?"

Gerard frowned, though he had a hint of what might have happened.

- "I don’t care what the fuck came through your mind at the moment! You can’t spit on someone’s face! You can’t spit on Matthew’s face!"

Mikey wide opened his eyes as soon as he heard those words. Even for him, that was a little too much.

- "Joey, I think I can…"- Gerard tried to explain.

- "Haltu kjafti! (shut up!) No, you can’t!"- but Joey shut him up in a second- "This is my problem, my battle, and my fucking business!! You have no right in trying to avenge me! None!"

- "He fucking cheated on you, and you are mad at me?!"- he frowned, surprised, not getting what was going on.

- "Yes! I am mad at you! You are not even my friend, and you were doing shit I never asked you or wished for you to do!"

- "If I want to spit on his face, I can fucking do it!"- Gerard shouted back- "I hate the fucking bastard!"

- "So I can spit on yours then!!"- and Joey was about to do it when Matthew rushed and covered her mouth.

- "No! No! No!"- he held her tight, but sweetly- "Calm down! please! Calm down!"

- "What the fuck are you doing here?!"- and Gerard freaked out at the sight of Gubler- "Get the fuck out!"

- "I will be gone as soon as Joey asks me to leave"- Matthew simply answered and looked into Gerard’s eyes with the same hate yet calm he had the last time he saw Way at Mikey’s New Year’s eve party.

- "Who the fuck do you think you are?! Get out before I kick you out!"- at that point, Jamia and Frank were in the room as well. Jamia had an eye put on her babies, playing in their cart, while holding Frank back to keep him from getting into that fight.

- "Stop it!"- Joey managed to move from Matthew’s grip and looked into Gerad’s eyes in a fury- "I hate you!"

She didn’t yell, but her words were a dagger and cold as ice. The honesty was evident. Maybe now Gerard was going to understand he had to step back. She looked at him in the eyes for a second, then grabbed her things and stormed out, followed closely by Matthew.

- "What the fuck?"- Mikey asked to break the awkward silence that hung in the room after Joey had stormed out.

- "I spit on his face today, when I saw him there, looking at her with his stupid fucking puppy eyes, I just… lost it and spit on him- Gerard murmured, and his voice broke.

She hated him. She meant it. How was he going to win her back if she hated him? Jamia’s jaw fell as soon as she heard him. One thing was hating the guy, even trying to punch him, but spitting on someone’s face, that was… well, it seemed offensive and degrading. It was over the top.

- "Not that I wouldn’t think about doing something like it, but…"- Frank started, but Jamia’s eyes stopped him

- "That was out of line, Gerard"- Ray said with a calm, though stern tone of voice- "I told you all, the only thing you are gonna accomplish by acting like a bunch of possessive friends is to push her away. If you all call yourself her friends, you can’t fucking do this shit!"

It felt like Ray was scolding his kids. Mikey wanted to argue, but it was true, just like the day he had hit Matthew in Joey’s house, and she had freaked out and gotten mad at him.

- "I would do it again if I could"- Gerard whispered and sat down, fighting the urges of smoking a cigarette.

- "That’s why you ain’t her friend"- Ray added, and the look coming from Way’s eyes let him know he wasn’t happy with the reply- "Her words, not mine."

Matthew followed Joey on her way out of the arena. The cold air hit her skin and made her shiver as they stood foot outside the building.

- "Here"- he quickly took his hoodie off and gave it to her. She didn’t argue. She was too mad to argue about anything else. She was also too mad to talk about it. She just wanted to walk away from everything. Walk and ease her mind.

- "Excuse me, Joey?"- a girl walked over with a huge smile and forced her to take her eyes from the ground- "Can I have your autograph, please?"- Matthew wide opened his eyes in amazement. Joey quickly smiled and grabbed a sharpie from her bag. She signed the girl’s ticket to the show and smiled for a selfie with her.

- "Wow"- Matthew chuckled as the girl was gone- "That was…"

- "Weird, I know"

- "That was amazing! Kids are reacting to your work! Kids are looking at you and being excited about what you do! I am so fucking proud!"- he didn’t really stop himself to think. He just wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight.

- "Thanks"- she whispered and felt how her cheeks turned pink- It’s still pretty weird. It’s not something that happens all the time, but…

- "It’s impressive, Joey!"- Matthew nearly yelled- "I mean it, sometimes it shocks me how cooler and greater you can be!"

He sounded honest. He sounded proud. Joey’s heartbeat in joy with those words but didn’t say a word. She was thankful it was night, and the street lights weren’t illuminating his face properly, or he would be able to see how blushed and nervous she was.

- "Don’t overreact"- she murmured and kept on walking in silence. Matthew sighed and walked with her, stuffing his hands in his pocket to stop himself from trying to hold her hand.

- "Are you hungry?"- he asked after a while

- "No"

- "When was your last meal?"

- "An apple and a fun size Snicker before the show"

- "Mikey keeps controlling your candies?"

- "Yes… but Jamia is a horrible influence"- Joey chuckled at the thought of the two of them that afternoon acting like kids- "She gives me Oreos"

- "That’s drugs!"- Matthew acted shocked- You shouldn’t!

- "I know! But they are so good!"- the drummer smiled. Talking about anything was better than addressing the pink elephant in the room.

- "And how’s Jamia?"

- "Great, she is baby training me with the twins."

- "That’s very nice of her"

- "Yeah, and the babies are the sweetest…"- Joey made a pause and sighed- "She is the only rooting for you."

- "I knew I liked her for a reason."

- "Frank keeps saying it’s because she has the hots for you."

- "She doesn’t"

- "She totally does"- and the young woman laughed at her own words. Matthew only smiled widely to hear her happy for a moment- "I was actually considering selling Frank a picture of you in underwear for her birthday."

- "Double the price, and we go halfsies"- Gubler answered and chuckled- "I can even pose like a french model."

- "Deal"- there was a silence between them that lasted a few minutes. Gubler didn’t know what to say, and Joey didn’t know either.

- "Are you sure you are not hungry?"- he asked, just to ask anything

- "Do you think I overreacted back there?"- she just spit it. She was scared she had exaggerated the whole deal, and now the guys were going to fire her. Gerard could. He definitely should after how she acted with him. He was, after all, the closest thing she had to a boss. They were all the people she worked for, not with.

- "No, Joey, you didn’t… I mean… I really don’t care how he acts with me ‘cos I know he is a mother fucker asshole in love with you."

Joey’s heart froze at those words. She widened her eyes and looked at Matthew. She had almost forgotten he had always said that about Gerard. And he was absolutely right.

- "I know it’s true. I don’t care what he says, he is crystal clear, but that’s not the point."

- "The point is, I totally yelled at him in front of everybody, told him I hated him and stormed out the room like a brat after I tried to spit on his face… thank you for stopping me, by the way."

- "You are very welcome"- Matthew sighed and looked at his hand- "You totally spit on me, though"- he joked and cleaned his hand on Joey’s sleeve.

- "Gross!!"- she argued and chuckled- "This is your hoodie, by the way"

- "Damn it!"- the two of them smiled and just walked around.

- "Maybe I could eat some pizza"- Joey whispered and pointed to a little restaurant in the next corner

- "Pizza it is."

Mikey looked at his clock as he stared at the ceiling in his room. It was eleven-thirty, no news from Joey. He was worried but didn’t want to call her, ‘cos after hearing Ray talking, he didn’t want to push her away. He didn’t want to make her feel like he was mad at her. He was just worried. Worried as fuck. Feared to lose her, to see her sad again. Worried she might leave forever.

A knock on the door made him jump from his bed and run to the answer. It was Gerard. He looked like shit. Mikey left the door open and let him in, walking back to his bed.

- "How are you?"- his question was pretty stupid considering Gerard’s puffy eyes.

- "I fucked it up, right?"

- "Yeah… but in your defense…"- Mikey stayed quiet and thought about his words- "Well…"

- "I know, it wasn’t the way to deal with him"

- "It definitely wasn’t… but I don’t think it was so bad on its own. I think when you mix this with all the stupid shit you’ve done to Joey."

- "I haven’t done anything"

- "But keep harassing her and telling her that you love her"- Gerard groaned, annoyed, and laid back on the bed, hiding his face under his hands.

- "But I love her"

- "Dude! You are mad if you think this shit is gonna work. She clearly loves him. I’m starting to think she is gonna forgive him though I don’t want her to. And you are fucking married. There is no way you can get anything with her."

- "But maybe..."

- "She doesn’t love you, Gerard!"- Mikey shouted- "She doesn’t! You never stood a chance! And now she hates you! You can’t even be her friend. After today, you can’t even fucking try! You dig your own grave!"

Gerard heard his younger brother’s words. He wasn’t even sugarcoating it. Maybe that way, Gee would understand. Maybe he was doing it ‘cos he loved him. Mikey was being tuff ‘cos he was also pretty tired of his brother’s attitude. Gerard wasn’t being rational. He was acting like an animal, with no clear thoughts, just based on his instincts.

- "And what do I do now?"- Way whispered, and Mikey sighed.

- "Start with apologizing and pray she doesn’t want to leave the band"- the singer wide opened his eyes. He hadn’t thought about that, but it was a serious chance. Maybe he had pushed her too far.

- "Do you think she can quit?"

- "I don’t know what can happen. She isn’t the kind of girl who can take these kinds of things very easily"

- "If she can forgive Matthew, she can forgive me"- Gerard thought out loud

- "She loves him, she hates you, you do the math."

- "But we are in the middle of a tour. She can’t leave like that."

- "I think the same, but it all depends on her."

- "What does Ray think of this?"

- "I haven’t talked to him"- Gerard grabbed his phone and dialed Toro’s number.

Ray frowned as he stared at the brothers. Mikey was lying on the bed, looking at his phone, waiting for a call or a text from Joey. Gerard was walking in circles in the room, rambling about making Joey stay in the band.

- "If she wants to leave, she can leave"- Toro said when there was finally silence in the room. Both Ways looked at him, shocked, but Ray just smiled- "Hey! It’s her fucking decision! Not ours!"

- "Do you want her to leave?!"- Mikey nearly yelled

- "No way! I love her in the band! I’m just saying if she decides something, we should respect her."

- "You keep saying the same shit! And you are not considering the fact she could make a mistake"- Gerard frowned and kept walking in circles.

- "Come on! She ain’t a baby! And she ain’t yours to take care of! She can manage herself pretty well, so stop it! You just don’t want her to leave, I can understand that! but just stop giving her reasons to do it!"- Ray didn’t know if Mikey was aware of how fuck up his brother was. And Mikey didn’t know if Ray knew Gerard had given her plenty of reasons to leave already.

- "She is not even here yet!"- Gerard was thinking to himself, but his friends could listen to him clearly- "I bet she already forgave him."

- "Still not your problem!"- Ray added, frustrated.

- "I love her! How can’t it be my problem!"- it felt so good to take it out of his chest, but Ray’s shocked face made Gerard realize he had said too much- "I mean, she is my friend, and…"

- "Oh come on!"- Mikey argued, sick of listening to his brother talking about his feelings- "You are in love with her, and it’s sick! Deal with it!"

- "And it’s not like you are making it hard to guess anyway"- Toro added- "Frank has been arguing you have feelings for her for months now."

- "And you told her your “feelings,” and she rejected you!"- Mikey said, making Ray insanely curious. He needed to know the details of that story.

- "What I feel is not your fucking business"- Gerard said defensibly.

- "It is if you are making this kind of show! Your wife will be here in a few days, so get your shit together and be professional for once!"- Ray argued and sighed- "I’m going to bed now, please try to leave that woman make her own desitions and her own life, and just focus on being good friends"- he said and waved- "And don’t fuck it up!"

The night was cold. The wind played with Joey’s hair as she stood outside her hotel, biting her lips, holding her backpack tight, and making her best not to look Matthew in the eyes as he stood in front of her, smiling. It all gave her the first date vibes. Like they hadn’t been down that path already.

- "Well… I better go. I’ve got another flight tomorrow"- she whispered, and he nodded.

- "Yes, you have to rest, you just played a kickass show"- he answered and smiled- "And our little bean must be exhausted with all the walking we just did."

- "Little bean is floating carelessly inside my tummy, making me crave for a brownie"- Matthew chuckled and opened his backpack.

- "I just have cashews"- and he handed her a paper bag. She couldn’t help but smile at him as she grabbed it and opened it in a second.

- "Your addiction coming in handy"- he chuckled and nodded.

- "I’ve got more if you want"- Matthew started looking in his backpack, but Joey stopped him.

- " Thanks, but these are enough for today"- they stayed in silence for a second, Joey staring at the bag, Matthew staring at her, caressing her skin with his eyes, looking at her eyes, her lips, her hair- "Are you going back home tomorrow?"- she asked and still didn’t dare to look at him in the eyes.

- "Not yet"- he whispered and bit his lips, wishing she wouldn’t ask him if he was going to keep on following her. A part of him wanted to keep it a secret surprise for one more show, at least. And a huge part of her was too scared to ask if she was going to see him at another show.

- "Well… take care"- she said and finally managed to stare into his eyes. It was a mistake, considering how badly she wanted to kiss him and how much she had to argue to herself to avoid doing it. And he was looking at her in adoration, with such love she felt she could melt like an ice cube under the July sun.

- "Remember to play the bean my tracks"- he said, and she nodded.

- "I surely will"

- "I don’t want the bean to forget about me."

- "That won’t happen, I promise"- they just stared in silence for a moment, Matthew almost leaning over to kiss her- "Ok, bye"- Joey waved and turned around.

- "Wait!"- Gubler held her hand and stopped her. He walked to her and wrapped his arms around her. She stood still, not moving an inch, as his warmth filled her skin under her clothes, and his lips pressed a kiss on the top of her head- "Take care"

- "You too"- she mumbled, words having trouble to leave her lips ‘cos his closeness was killing her- "Wait, I still I’ve got your hoodie"- she tried to move away from him to take it out, but Matthew looked at her and shook his head.

- "Keep it… please"- Joey had left all of Matthew’s clothing back in her apartment, ‘cos she didn’t want to carry anything that reminded her of him for the next month. Having his hoodie was against her own rules. Then why did it make her feel so happy?

- "Thanks"- she moved apart from him and watched his smile for one last time- "Good night Matthew Gray"- her words were a whisper that made him shiver. He loved the way his name sounded like coming from her lips.

- "Good night María Josefina."

The actor waited until Joey was out of her sight to walk away from the hotel. He headed it to his hotel, a few blocks away. Ignoring the whole problem with Gerard, he thought things had been pretty good after all. He really didn’t care about Way at all. He knew he would give him a hard time. He just didn’t want him to make Joey feel bad. Joey was all that mattered to him. Mikey and Frank could threaten to hit him, even fulfill their threats. He didn’t care. He even agreed with them. He deserved to pay. But Gerard? No, he didn’t have any right to get into that fight. Gerard was an asshole who needed to stay away from Joey. He was the one Matthew hated.

- “I don’t think I had ever hated someone as bad as I hate that son of a bitch”- but that didn’t matter at the moment, now Matthew had a bigger issue to tackle: Which was going to be the phrase in the banner he had to make for tomorrow’s show?.

There was a knock on Mikey’s door, minutes after Gerard had left. He groaned and walked to answer, to find Joey standing at the other side, with a shy smile on her lips, almost a sheepish look.

- "Are you mad at me?"- she whispered right away, and he opened his arms to hug her.

- "Never."

- "You swear? ‘cos I yelled at your brother I hate him in front of the whole band and tried to spit on his face"

- "He was out of place, and he deserved it"- Mikey whispered and kissed the top of her head. His touch felt so different from Matthew’s a few minutes ago. It almost made Joey feel guilty that her friend had kissed her head after the man she loved had done the same. Almost like she was cheating.

- "And are you mad Matthew was there?"- Mikey let her go and invited her in.

- "Are you ok with him being there?"

Joey stayed in silence, walking into the room, standing next to the bed instead of sitting down. She looked down at her hands and didn’t say anything. Ray’s words were starting to make sense to Mikey as he looked at her and thought she was going to start drifting away from him if he continued being an ass.

- "Bug, it’s ok. I am not gonna get mad at you… if you love him, if you want to be with him, I’m still gonna be your friend."

- "I just don’t know what I want"- she whispered and scratched her eyes, feeling tired and sleepy

- "Anything you want to talk about, I am here, and I swear I’m gonna be the best friend in the world, and I am not gonna judge you, I am not gonna freak out, and more than anything, I am just going to worry about your happiness, ok?"- Joey pouted at her friend and wrapped her arms around him.

- "I just don’t want you to be mad at me ‘cos you are my best friend."

- "I will never get mad at you Bug, you are my little sister, and I love you. I just want to take care of you."

- "I don’t like it when people try to take care of me. I know what I’m doing."

- "I know…"

- "But I’m gonna let it slide with you ‘cos you are my brother"- she said and chuckled against his shirt. Mikey kissed the top of her head again, and she chuckled- "Just don’t push me."

- "I won’t…"- Mikey chuckled and moved to look at her- "We are cheesy, though"

- "So fucking cheesy!!"- Joey chuckled and sighed, relieved- "Ok, now that I took that from my chest, I need to go to bed. I am so fucking tired."

- "Did you eat?"

- "Yeah, Gubler bought dinner"

- "And he also gave you his clothes apparently"- Mikey pointed her hoodie and noticed she blushed.

- "Yeah… I’ll still steal yours, you know"- he smiled and messed with her hair.

- "I’m counting on it. I actually had them washed"

- "Thank you so fucking much!!"

Mikey felt a little better after Joey left. She was worried he was mad at her when he was concerned about the same. She didn’t say a word about leaving the band. That was even better. And she didn’t look sad after being with Matthew. That was enough to let him sleep calmly that night.

Joey was weary. She kicked off her shoes and laid on the bed, closing her eyes. Matthew’s smell surrounding her made her smile and sigh. Yes, he had been romantic. Yes, she had butterflies in her stomach. Yes, she loved him. None of that took away the fact he was a cheater, but he was trying to make amends. That was undeniable. How much was he willing to try? And how much was enough for her to forgive her? Neither of that she knew, but it didn’t matter at the moment. For a few seconds, Joey allowed herself to be in love.

Before she drifted off in her sleep, she remembered Matthew asked her to play the songs he had put on the iPod for their baby. She didn’t want to move from that bed, but she was way too curious to know what was in it.

- "Hey Bean, we are gonna tell your dad you are the only one who listened to it, but mom is gonna sneak a little bit, ok?"- the young woman whispered to her tummy, feeling like a dork.

- "I’m gonna take that silence as a yes"- she put on a headphone and placed another on her belly.

- "Hey Bean!"- Matthew’s voice caught her breath as soon as the first track started- "It’s me! Your dad! I wanted to record these for you so you can remember my voice while you are away with your mommy, ok? Sorry, it’s not the most soothing voice you’ll ever hear, but I love you, so I guess it’ll have to do the trick"- Joey chuckled and closed her eyes, refusing to take out that hoodie, listening to Matthew’s voice, and drowning in his scent.

- "So let’s start with a bedtime story, I’ve got the feeling you are doing a lot of sleeping in there, so I’ll read you one of my favorites growing up"- Joey’s heart melt with each word recorded on that iPod

- "I promise when you are out of your mommy, I’m gonna reread it, and you’ll tell me if you like it, ok? Now, let’s get to business:"

“I am Sam. I am Sam. Sam-I-Am.

That Sam-I-Am! That Sam-I-Am! I do not like that Sam-I-Am!

Do you like green eggs and ham?

I do not like them, Sam-I-Am.

I do not like green eggs and ham.

Would you like them here or there?

I would not like them here or there.

I would not like them anywhere.

I do not like green eggs and ham.

I do not like them, Sam-I-Am.”

Slowly and softly, Matthew’s voice relaxed Joey like a sweet lullaby, and she fluttered her eyes until she fell asleep safe and sound as his reading continued reading Dr. Seuss's stories to their baby.

Taglist: @all-tings-diego @worryd0ll

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[lovelyirony]

hi hello i am feeling very angsty so: rhodeytony ft tony's worrying lack of interest in avoiding getting kidnapped and his bodyguard rhodes' increasing stress levels to save a boss that doesn't want to be saved (and, if the flutter in his heart should be anything to go by - should not be his boss anymore). bodyguard to lovers??

Rhodey is a good bodyguard. Hell, he’s the best. 

That was why Pepper Potts hired him, after all. He’s not easy to fool, can follow anyone with a dogged determination that nearly defies human nature. He’s had successful stories before with glowing reviews from multiple people from all different threatened backgrounds. 

(Including at least three world leaders and a pope.) 

Tony Stark is...new. Well, nearly new. He’s a businessman, which isn’t anything out of the ordinary for Rhodey to deal with. 

…except Tony’s highly eclectic, a billionaire, and purposely makes his behavior as erratic as possible. 

It’s fun. What can Rhodey say? He loves a challenge, and Tony is about as challenging as they come. 

-

When he first starts, Tony tries every trick in the book. Rhodey still sticks to him, although he does leave some distance. Tony tries to make him uncomfortable by bringing just about everyone who looks home, and all Rhodey says is, “you gonna feed them cereal when they wake up? Because that’s all you have in your pantry right now, and you don’t pay me to do the shopping.” 

Tony scowls at that, and then changes his strategy. 

-

It’s an odd strategy. 

Tony decides he will just make Rhodey his friend, starting with the nickname of “Rhodey.” 

“That’s stupid,” Rhodey says, because he can already tell it will stick. 

“Not my problem, just my solution,” Tony grins. “Now come on, we’re getting burgers.” 

They’re at a sit-down restaurant. One of Tony’s favorites, actually. Rhodey is not sure why he’s sitting down across from the man with the most influence in the world, but he is. 

“So, what’s new with you? Who are you?” Tony asks. “Pepper sent me your file. You’re from Philly, right?” 

“Oh my god, you sound weird when you say it like that,” Rhodey says, deciding against formality as he basically tells Tony Stark that he sounds weird and shouldn’t say “Philly.” 

“Oh what, is that not what the locals call it?” 

“I’m going to take you there and they’re going to beat you up.” 

“Not the worst Sunday night I’ve ever had,” Tony mentions. “Hey, look at the menu. I don’t want you to flounder when the waitress shows up and you know fuck-all about what they have to offer.” 

“Okay asshole, any recommendations?” 

“The banana milkshake and bacon-burger.” 

Rhodey looks at the menu. 

He does end up with the bacon-burger, but chooses strawberry for his flavor of milkshake. 

“You traitor.” 

“Oh am I? Well then let me tell Pepper that you stole the last good pen she had then-” 

Tony flings a fry at him, and Rhodey laughs. 

- 

Here’s a concerning thing: Tony has a very “c’est la vie” approach about kidnapping. 

Like he genuinely doesn’t really give a shit if he knows what’s going on, or even if he doesn’t. 

Rhodey was eagle-eyed and chased a van three fucking blocks and caught up to the driver, wherein he punched his lights out and got Tony out. His hands were bound in zip-ties and his suit was rumpled, but Tony just blinked at him. 

“You think you broke a racing record with that?” 

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did they take anything?” 

Rhodey’s all over Tony, checking for any injuries, any stolen wallets or watches, and thank god everything is there. (Not that Tony would really care if anything was stolen, save for his sunglasses. He spends far too much on those, in Rhodey’s opinion.) 

“Okay geez,” Tony says, batting Rhodey’s hands away. “I’m fine. These people were amateurs. Shit, I’m running late for my consultation meeting, aren’t I?” 

“You just got kidnapped,” Rhodey says, tone rife with disbelief. “You just got taken and your concern is with the consultation meeting?” 

“Well I figured that you were going to come by or I’d be gone a lot longer, but now that I’m not? Yeah. Yeah, I am concerned with the consultation meeting. It’s a tech start-up company, only not that shitty Silicon-nice-guy start-up. It’s a more inclusive thing. I don’t know, I read their little ‘about’ section on their website. Which needs work. But that’s besides the point.” 

Rhodey just follows, dumb in disbelief. 

The few rare times that previous clients have been kidnapped or even attempted, they’ve needed a day to recuperate at minimum. They were shaken up, and usually beefed up the security for the rest of time after it. They also scheduled therapy appointments. 

Tony treated this like it was a traffic jam and he was only running five minutes behind. 

- 

The second time it happens when Rhodey’s there, it lasts a little longer. 

Rhodey has to admit, he maybe did some...under-the-radar looks. The FBI wasn’t moving fast enough, and the legal channels weren’t up to snuff. And besides, Tony did say that he could use Jarvis if he really wanted to. 

(Turns out they both went to MIT at the same time, and Tony had been that obnoxiously short guy in his econ class that rarely showed up, but when he did he showed up in a suspiciously nice outfit.) 

It was a weekend. Rhodey had gone away for two seconds to get a drink for Tony and then he was gone. 

It was...bad. 

The problem is this: 

Tony definitely doesn’t need to be kidnapped as often as he is. He has so many inventions that can prevent that, he’s sold quite a few of them to the military. 

But for some fucking reason, he doesn’t want to be saved. No, he’s content just going along with what’s happening, even though everyone else around him wants him back. Needs him back. 

He finds him bruised and tied up to a shitty folding chair. 

“Hey darling,” Tony says, lips a bloody red. “Can you believe this chair? I would’ve thought they would at least have gotten something a tad nicer. I am their best-dressed guest, after all.” 

Rhodey looks over the torn shirt and the pants that have all but been shredded. His shoes are battered and stained beyond repair. 

“Don’t,” Rhodey says. He sounds tired. He is tired. “Don’t do this.” 

“Don’t do what, get kidnapped? I hardly try,” Tony snaps. “Or do I just have a sign on my back that you didn’t know was there?” 

“You know I was in the Air Force,” Rhodey snaps back. “I got high enough clearance that I was one of the guys who got to see what brand new toy you sent our way. I know you could use any of those, shit, you probably tested it out, so you would know.” 

“And your point?” Tony asks. “What, you’re saying I should know better? Saying you know better than me?” 

“You know what? Yeah, yeah I am saying that,” Rhodey yells as he’s untying him. “I am fucking saying that I know more than you because you couldn’t give less of a shit if you tried about your own well-being! You were kidnapped and I’ve been running myself ragged trying to get you back, and you just don’t care!” 

Tony stares at him. Really stares at him. 

“Let’s go home.” 

Nothing else is said in the car ride home. Tony can’t even look at Rhodey. 

They go home, where Pepper greets Tony with a hug and makes him swear not to leave again, and Tony says “I promise,” only they both know that he’s lying. 

But they’re not calling him out on it yet. No, not tonight. 

- 

Rhodey stays. Technically he doesn’t have to. Jarvis is the most advanced artificial intelligence system in the world. Hell, he’s the only one that’s even in his league, but Rhodey just...feels better staying. 

And Tony’s mansion is a gargantuan structure with about twenty different rooms to choose from, so Rhodey gets a nice view and tries to go to bed. 

He’s never gotten enough sleep. He knows he never would. That’s why the army loved him: he could be up at any hour and he’d be fine. That’s why his dad called him the bane of his existence in a loving manner: Rhodey would be up at four in the morning filling out the crossword before anyone else could. 

He’s up at four a.m. making breakfast. 

Tony’s pantry is still shit, but it looks like Pepper went shopping for him or had someone else do it, because he actually has eggs and juice and actual food instead of the odd pickle jar or way-too-old yogurt. 

“You’re...up,” Tony says. 

Rhodey turns around. 

“Sorry. I, um. Stayed.” 

“It’s fine,” Tony says awkwardly. “What are you making?” 

“Omelet.” 

“I always mess those up,” he says. “Either too much cheese or I forget I’m cooking it.” 

“You want one?” 

“You gonna make me one?” 

“Accidentally cracked one too many eggs, so yes. You want onions and spinach in yours?” 

“Sure,” Tony says. “What are you doing up?” 

“Always bad at sleeping,” Rhodey answers. “Can never really stay asleep for too long.” 

“Forget to take your melatonin gummies?” Tony answers, grinning. 

Rhodey can see a bruise on his collarbone. 

“You sleep okay?” 

“No, but I rarely ever do,” Tony says. “Especially after yesterday’s fiasco.” 

“You mean the whole weekend,” Rhodey says, putting the rest of the eggs into the pan. “Can’t imagine that was fun.” 

“Oh come on, it was a ball,” Tony answers sarcastically. “They let me play cops-and-robbers and I was given pizza. Clearly it was a fantastic time.” 

Rhodey stares at Tony. 

“You know in the contract that I had you sign it specifically states that you have to let me help you, right?” 

“It says you have to rescue me regardless of feelings or previous obligations,” Tony says. 

“Rescuing you doesn’t just mean I chase after vans and track you down in an abandoned warehouse, it means that I rescue you from those situations before they can happen. But I can only do that if you agree that you won’t get kidnapped,” he says. 

“And what, I want to?” Tony asks. “Do I say that?” 

“You don’t have to,” Rhodey says, flipping the omelet over. “You never think you’re worth rescuing it because you think you’re never going to be good enough and I think you think that you owe me for giving a shit.” 

Tony looks at him. 

“You’re really honest.” 

“I try to be.” 

“I love that about you.” 

Rhodey’s hand shakes slightly as he moves the omelet a bit in the pan. He hopes Tony doesn’t notice. 

“Well I would love it if you stopped being kidnapped.” 

“Aye aye, Colonel Rhodes,” Tony says, saluting. Rhodey rolls his eyes. 

“Oh my god, do not.” 

“What, am I not supposed to thank our armed services for making this country safe?” he mocks, standing up. “For going above and beyond the call of patriotism and helping keep Americans everywhere safe?” 

Rhodey threatens to eat his omelet when he breaks into singing the national anthem. 

- 

There’s an...understanding. 

Tony starts taking up training with Happy and almost agrees to regular training with Rhodey until Rhodey wants him to get up at six and do some workouts, and he yells “No!” after one workout session. 

Rhodey pointedly pretends like he’s not staring at Tony’s chest when he lifts up his shirt to wipe away the sweat. 

“Come on Rhodey my darling, let’s do breakfast.” 

Tony dragging him to breakfasts, lunches, and dinners. It’s...nice. Rhodey ignores it when Tony waggles his eyebrows as he takes the check and calls him “darling, honey, baby,” and he lets him because it sounds nice. 

He doesn’t say anything to Tony. No, you can’t date your boss. It’s unprofessional as hell and Tony probably is just doing it because Rhodey’s in close proximity and they have a good banter going. 

- 

The next time that Tony has an attempted kidnapping, Rhodey is there. 

He’s there, and he’s being taken away, dragged from Tony, and Tony for the first time looks terrified. 

Rhodey tries to struggle, tries to do anything, because Tony has to get away, and he...

He’s knocked unconscious. 

-

When he wakes up, his head hurts worse than it ever has, and for a moment he’s pissed at Tony because he forgets that he’s been kidnapped and there’s no control over the thermostat because the room is hot as all get out. 

And then he sees Tony across from him, and he’s never seen Tony angry. 

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, voice shaking. “I’ll get us out of here. I promise. I’m sorry.” 

“Not your fault we have assholes take us,” Rhodey says. “But god I would kill for some air conditioning.” 

Tony smiles a bit at that. 

- 

Here’s a problem: you cannot give Tony Stark anything if you want him to not escape. Either that or he has to be unconscious because he’s a stubborn son of a bitch. 

And they used actual handcuffs to keep him there. God, what a joke. 

Tony learned how to break out of handcuffs when he was twenty and chained to a bedpost on accident. (Long story.) 

This is nothing. 

But the problem is that Rhodey’s here. His bodyguard who really shouldn’t be putting his life on the line for someone as shitty as Tony, but here they are, and he has to get him out. 

“Follow my lead,” Tony whispers. 

“Well of course I will, who else has as much experience being kidnapped as you?” Rhodey mutters. 

“Okay is now going to be the time where you sass me? You’re here too. I could leave you.” 

“You’re not gonna do that, Pepper would make you come back.” 

“No she wouldn’t.” 

“Yeah she would!” 

“Not after I tell her that you used the last of her salad dressing.” 

“Shit.” 

Tony snorts, looking at the room. They don’t have security cameras, which is just...questionable. Oh my god, he got kidnapped by amateurs. 

He’s kind of embarrassed. 

Rhodey gets free, and they’re both headed towards a door, and Rhodey picks up a stray part of a metal pole, and Tony cannot lie and say he’s not intrigued by that. 

Not saying he hopes Rhodey gets to use it. 

He’s just curious how he’ll utilize it. 

- 

They get to just. Walk out. They fucking walk out. What kind of people did they get kidnapped from? It can’t be that easy, can it? 

It can’t be...

It is. 

Okay sure Tony is driving in a hotwired car and they’re being shot at, but all things considered that’s not the worst thing. And the truck is probably considered stolen anyways, and once Tony makes it to the highway, it’s not like they’ll be able to follow without making it onto national news, not that they haven’t already. 

Pepper’s very effective at getting things to trend on national news when she wants to. 

- 

Rhodey is sitting on a beach chair. He shouldn’t be, and he also shouldn’t be drinking a mimosa because it’s four p.m. and definitely the morning, but he figures since he got kidnapped he’s allowed at least one mimosa. 

“So. Your first kidnapping?” Tony asks. “All things considered, yours went well. I think next time we should go to Wendy’s or something, I was starving-” 

“I’m just. I’m glad we’re okay,” Rhodey says. “But yeah. Maybe next time. If there is a next time. I’m going to I think make you hold hands with me so that you don’t get napped by terrible, shitty people.” 

“You could’ve just asked to hold my hand, we didn’t need to be kidnapped together,” Tony says. 

“Hm, is that a breach of contract?” Rhodey teases. 

“Only if Pepper decides to enforce it, and she won’t because you’re the first bodyguard to have an actual success story with me,” Tony says. “So. I’m thinking maybe we skip the kidnapping next time and go straight for dinner.” 

“Oh thank god, I thought you were gonna say a fast food restaurant.” 

“I still could, you don’t know,” Tony grins, winking. “What if our first date is to Burger King? What are you gonna do?” 

“Be mad that I still like you,” Rhodey grumbles. 

Tony cackles, dropping a kiss onto his hand. 

“Do you think I should get another bodyguard or will dragging you away during a party be too awkward for them?” 

“...I’ll think about it.” 

(They don’t get a new bodyguard. 

No matter how much the other security complains that Rhodey’s the only one who knows where Tony is at all times, and they can’t exactly ask them if they’re busy doing...things. 

Rhodey finds it hilarious.) 

[innocentbi-stander]

Prompt: When Geralt goes to Kaer Morhen he bitches about Jaskier when he’s sober but as soon as Geralt is drunk with his brothers he starts talking about how kind and beautiful his bard is. If after the mountain he stops talking about Jaskier and they are all worried something happened. I’ve read some prompts and saw your posts and I’m loving them ❤️

Thank you for the prompt! I’m so glad you enjoyed my previous posts and I hope you enjoy this one as well! I apologize for the delay, I was hit with a bit of writers block but hopefully you love what I came up with!

_________________

Eskel can’t say that winters in Kaer Morhen are always necessarily a happy time given the tainted memories of their past that haunt the keep, but usually they manage to find a sort of comfort in the presence of their own kind, sharing stories and getting ridiculously drunk. 

But ever since the last of them traipsed through the gate before the first heavy snow it’s been…..weird. 

Correction: Geralt’s been weird. Weirdly somber. Which is saying a lot about the usual stoic bastard that he is that he must be well and truly miserable if even Lambert is picking up on it. 

For the past twenty winters or so, ever since that bard started trailing Geralt around the continent like a troublesome pet, Geralt hasn’t been short on things to bitch about. 

The bard seems to be Geralt’s biggest talking point, and Eskel has heard many a grievance about the bard that doesn’t seem to have a goddamn sense of self preservation as he skips after Geralt on hunts. 

How he dresses in obnoxiously bright colors and wears boots that are laughably unsuited for walking the Path. How the bard never shuts up and could probably talk a ghoul back into its grave. His dalliances with women and men alike, and the angry spouses that often come after, chasing them out of town. The incessant playing of his lute as he reworks song after song at all times of day or night. How he’s seduced Roach by feeding her sugar cubes, and Geralt now worries how the added sugars will affect her.

Eskel often wondered if this bard was such a nuisance why Geralt had let him follow him around for the past twenty years. If he didn’t know any better he would think that Geralt hated him. But he did know better. 

Because when Geralt was four ales into a night of drinking, he’d talk about the blue of the bard’s eyes.

Brighter than any open sky and how they shone whenever he managed to make Geralt laugh.  How he gave out smiles like they meant nothing, except for the special one he saved for Geralt alone. How he laughed like the world was their own private joke and everything was funny.

He spoke of the man’s bravery, facing monsters at Geralt’s side without blinking when others would have run screaming. How he once jumped in the way of a griffin poised to strike at Geralt’s back and the scar that stretched across his stomach because of it.

The bard, Jaskier, his name was Jaskier and wasn’t that fitting  that he was named after a buttercup, a flower so beautiful yet so poisonous and deadly.  That was Jaskier, pretty and poised in his colorful doublets, deadly and wild with a knife clutched in his hands, slashing out at the bandits jumping them on the road.

Jaskier got into bar fights like it was his job, sparing no thought to how hopeless a fight when some other idiot has decided to spit poison about witchers.

Geralt would never admit it, but Eskel always thought that the way that he spoke of his bard sounded a lot like love. 

Witchers didn’t get love. They had often been told they weren’t worthy of it. Humans loved to spread the rumors that they were incapable of it. But somehow Geralt had found it. And admittedly, it gave the rest of them a little bit of hope. 

This winter, when Geralt walked into the keep there was no mention of his bard. There were no humorous stories of exploits as they drank into the night. There wasn’t a word on Jaskier for the first week, and that’s when the rest of them began to worry.

Had something happened to the bard? Had a hunt finally gone wrong? Had he, for some godforsaken reason, left? Off to get married to some nice girl and settle down?

It was almost the end of winter by the time Eskel finally worked up the courage to ask Geralt on the whereabouts of his bard. 

He wasn’t prepared for the pained look on his brother’s face.

“Gone.” was all he said, the words torn from his throat.

“Gone?” Eskel asked, “He’s dead?” Geralt clenched his teeth, and his arms crossed in a painfully tight grip.

“No. He could be. I haven’t seen him in a while.” Eskel’s eyes widened as Geralt told him the tale of his disaster of a mission up the mountain and the awful words he had spat at his bard. How he could smell the tears on Jaskier’s face as he walked away. Geralt slumped into a seat, his head in his hands.

“I pushed him away, Eskel. I fucked it all up.” Eskel sat down in the seat across from him. 

“Yeah, you did. But I don’t think it’s beyond fixing.” He felt Geralt’s eyes on him, and didn’t have to look to feel the question in them. He chose his next words carefully.

“I’ve had to listen to you moan on about this bard for the past twenty winters. You love him. I’ve always seen you fight for the people you care about. Why is this different?”

“I was terrible to him. I treated him horribly when all he ever did was try to please me.”

“Have you tried apologizing?” Geralt sat silently for a moment.

“No.” Eskel smacked his shoulder.

“You idiot. Why the fuck not?” Geralt sighed a long suffering sigh.

“I didn’t think he would listen.” Eskel rolled his eyes, his brother really could be a fucking idiot.

“You should do it anyway, he might. And if he doesn’t, it’s not like you’re above groveling. Jaskier seems worth the potential ego hit.” 

He could practically see the cogs turning in Geralt’s mind, working overtime before coming to a complete halt.

“I don’t know where to start.” Eskel laughed, throwing his head back before meeting Geralt’s increasingly annoyed gaze.

“Why don’t you start with telling him that you care about him?”

Eskel may have spent the winter having to deal with a somber, moping Geralt, but as he watched the man gallop out of the keep on Roach as soon as the last snow began to melt, he had a feeling the next winter may be a lot more exciting. 

He couldn’t wait to meet the bard he had heard so much about.

__________

I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to send in more prompts!

[thekrazykeke]

See You Again [2]

Fandom(s): Tokyo Ghoul

Relationship(s): Uta & reader.

Summary: in the sound of silence, we found sanctuary. in every word unspoken, love.

Warning(s): Angst, unspoken feelings. Pre-canon events but also very ambiguous timeline-wise. Disturbing mental imagery. Canon typical gore.

This little series was never meant to have a happy ending, so no screaming at me. I’ll accept your appreciation for my love of angst in reblogs, likes, comments or tears. 

Seriously though, in all honesty, I hurt myself as I wrote this. 

I dunno, I might indulge that impulsive urge of mine and write a one shot where they actually get together. Most likely not though, so no one hold their breath ahahaha.

[i.]

~

A smart person would never have returned to the little out of the way mask shop in the 4th Ward. You’d have chalked up the experience as weird and as common sense dictated, forgotten all about it. 

That is the safer route, the sane option.

So of course, you decided to be stupid. You kept coming back to the shop, although you were careful with how you planned your visits, spacing them out in between sight seeing and being a general tourist. 

The added bonus of your frequent visits being that although Uta’s face didn’t really change much expression-wise, you got the feeling that he was always a little surprised to see you.

“Do you really like it here that much?” 

Pulling the oni mask away from your face, you glanced at Uta who stood a good distance away from you, hand in pocket, hip cocked against the edge of the counter. “What’s that now?”

“I said, ‘do you really like it here that much?’” Uta repeated himself, red on black eyes intently trained on your face. “This is the second time this week you’ve come by without buying anything.”

“Oof.” You exaggeratedly clutched at your chest. “That hurt, Uta-san. With how frequently I come by here, one would think you’d treat me as more than a customer. We’re friends now.”

“We’re not.”

The words are stated so bluntly and again, you clutch at your chest, miming being struck by an arrow. Uta didn’t respond to your joking around and playing, just stared at you. So, you cut the crap, reaching into your back pocket with a mock pout. “How much for this mask? I think it suits me.”

“10504.50 yen.” At the sight of your suddenly wide eyes and dropped jaw, Uta’s blank expression cracked, he smiled slightly and just for a split second. “Also, the mask doesn’t suit you.”

You turned your back to him, carefully returning the oni mask to the display it’d been set up on. The next second you turned around, you nearly jumped out of your skin at how close Uta is now. “Hey now! Shit, you need a bell or something.”

“It’s not my fault you don’t pay attention.” 

You can’t even pull off your comedic routine and drop your head in an ‘ashamed’ manner because you’d probably most likely hit your head against his chest, he’s standing that close. Before you could ask him to either back up and inquire what was his reason for being in your personal space, a tattooed finger reached out, lightly touching your chin, encouraging you to look up, so that’s what you did.

“...I can create a mask for you. Something that suits you.” He’s now adjusting your face, the faintest touch causing you to move this way and that. 

“Aww! That’s nice of you, Uta-sa-”

“The base color would be silver, perhaps. And the eyes would sewn shut, the better to hide your grief and... the anger.” He’s musing aloud, words quiet and almost a whisper, but you heard him. Part of you think it’s deliberate, that he’s making fun of you, mocking you.

And it worked. 

You reached a hand up, setting it upon his wrist. Uta blinked, staring down at your hand, then his unique gaze switched to you, and he.... for a lack of better words, it’s like he snapped out of that artist’s mode. He dropped his hand and took one step out of your personal bubble then another and another before whirling around and started walking away. 

He lifted a hand in farewell, waving it about in a sort of shooing manner.

“Come back again in two to three weeks.”

That should have been the end of you and his interactions. 

Regardless of how intriguing he is, he’d pressed on one of your triggers, maybe even on purpose, and you already had too short of a life to put up with the bullshit. Then again, maybe it was for that reason entirely that you decided that you were gonna keep seeing him, even after he finished the mask, to annoy him to death of course.

Until he told you upfront to go away, you wouldn’t. That’s what you decided.

And with that resolution settled in your head, you could go about your business. You enjoyed the sights, the food, and although your judgement said it’d be a bad idea, you had a couple of one night stands. The first is a lawyer that you’re like pretty sure has kids and a wife, and the other is a stressed college kid. 

The experience left you unsatisfied and irritated. 

Since your last encounter with Uta had been...awkward and strained, you decided to bring a peace offering. Cream puffs for yourself with green tea and a cup of black coffee for him. You’d picked up on the fact that he liked the beverage without sugar and cream like the total heathen he is. You idly wondered if he even enjoyed sweet things or maybe he was one of those weird folks who liked sour and spicy stuff all the time.

The fact that you’re even thinking about this and it didn’t sink in as odd or out of place until the moment you crossed the threshold of HYSY Studios, taking note of the fact that the place is as gloomy and empty of customers as always. 

“’Ey! Uta, where you at!?” 

There’s a vibration against your leg. You juggle the items in your hold carefully before tugging out your cellphone and entering the passcode to unlock the phone. The most recent text message you’d received from Uta about four minutes ago informed you of the fact that he’s in the back of the studio, like the very, very back, where all the unused and returned masks were. Now the only reason you knew all this information is because of how often you pestered Uta about it. 

You’re at an impasse. 

You could do as he asked and bring your treat to him while you were at it or you could wait and avoid the potential jump scare that Uta was totally capable of inflicting upon you. 

‘To go or not to go, that is the question.’ 

Everything pointed to the clear conclusion that no, you absolutely should not go back there. Every horror movie cliché ended with the female protagonist being killed or gravely injured because she was so stupid as to go in the dark, alone, by herself. 

‘Uta isn’t a killer though.’ That’s what you tried to tell yourself, the argument weak and pitiful in your brain. 

You did not know this man well enough to be in the back where it wouldn’t be easy access to the front door, where you couldn’t bolt if he did something strange. However, you did own a mini taser and always carried mace, just as a precaution, so... 

So....

Slowly, reluctantly, you did as he instructed, every warning and life training you’d received up to this point in your life sending out red neon signs telling you to wait, not be an idiot, to please please stay where you are. And you ignored all those survival instincts, heading deeper into the studio, your footfalls loud and eerie the further in you went. 

Until you find him. 

He’s apparently unfazed by your belated presence, focus wholly consumed with his work. Red on black eyes glanced at you for but a moment and what you carried and then at the coffee. “There’s a mini fridge, leave everything there, except the coffee. I’m almost done.” 

Having some mild experience with artists and creative sorts, you avoid looking at the mask he’s working on, instead setting down the coffee in an empty space he vaguely gestured to. 

Then you walk the short distance to where the only mini fridge in the room is, reaching out, you pull it open. And it’s the scent that alerts you; the fresh tang of blood. It’s too late to stop yourself and you see it, everything. The jar of eyeballs, the carefully wrapped packages of ‘meat’. 

‘I’m in a back room with the potential copycat Jeffery Dahmer or...or....’ 

You’re not an idiot, all these little things you’d casually dismissed because you hadn’t cared enough to pay attention, to see... And now here you are. Here you are. 

Fuck.

Swallowing, you calm and dampen the inner voice sCREAMING, then casually as possible, grip wobbling only slightly, do you put your treat inside the mini fridge right alongside the human body parts and flesh, then close the door, turning around. 

Uta is still hard at work on the mask but his movements are slowing down.

As if nothing is amiss, you stride over just as he finally pauses to take a sip of coffee. “This is one of the ways that you make masks. Really. That’s interesting…” And you meant it too. Legs crossed, you leaned against the table, watching the mask maker in his element.

He smiles at you in that enigmatic way. “Thank you.” 

The visit continues without much else in the way of incidents and subtly unsubtle revelations. 

You don’t really talk and Uta doesn’t make you. 

Less than twenty minutes later, once he deems the mask complete, he stands up and stretches, arms raising overhead, revealing an expanse of creamy, pale, lean and muscled torso. 

Glancing away a beat too late, you catch Uta as he smiles, again, the smile lengthens into a smirk. He reaches out and plucks up the half mask delicately, taking a step towards you and your heart traitorously lurches in your chest. 

Self-preservation makes you want to run as he comes closer, closer, closer...

Logic keeps you rooted in place as he carefully puts the mask on you. Tattooed fingers brush the strands of hair away from the nape of your neck, lingering as he feels the flutter of your pulse beneath his fingertips. 

“Your heart is racing like a hummingbird.” he muses. You stare out at him from beneath the safety of the mask, the bone surprisingly not pinching or cutting your skin. “And here I thought nothing could scare you.”

“Unfortunately fear makes up the majority of the human psyche.” You can’t help the quip, tone dry. “But you’re my friend, so it’s fine.” 

That last comment causes Uta to blink and stare at you in blatant surprise for a minute or two. Then he pulls himself together and shakes his head, a chuckle rumbling through his chest. “...I suppose we are friends.”

“Cool. So how much for the mask?” You reach up, about to remove it but Uta swatted at your hands, the action hard enough to sting but not leave damage. You still squawk indignantly anyway.

“It’s free. Creating it got me out of my block, so thank you.” Bringing out a cellphone, he takes a couple pictures with you, making you turn, pose, and pretty much just show off. 

Once he’s done, he snags your tea and cream puffs out the fridge, then walks you to the front of the studio, giving a small wave goodbye. Brain swimming with what you just learned, amazed that he hadn’t just killed you straight off, you glance at the chilled green tea in your hand then after mentally shrugging to yourself, you take a sip and shove a cream puff in your mouth. 

Hell, after the day you’ve had, you deserve to be rewarded.

Time passes, as it inevitably does. 

You receive more calls from Kiani, from other friends and family members, but you are resolute in staying in Japan. 

Much to your surprise, you’d actually gotten comfortable being there. Though that might have had something to do with Uta, who you continue to visit, and if he’s surprised or put out, none of that shows on his face. It’s fun to drag him places, to be around him, and you can laugh at his jokes, even the deadpan, making-fun-of-humanity ones. 

He even lets you meet his other ghoul friends, Itori and Renji. 

Through it all, these changes and fun things, your health slowly, steadily, gets worse even as you and Uta get closer, muddling about in a rather confusing grey area of friends...and more...

As always, the two of you are hanging out, this time you’d dragged him to an amusement park, and he held onto some of the prizes you won, gamely snapped a couple photos of you in ridiculous poses and making silly faces, etc. 

It felt like a date.

Like, you’re returning from a date.

When that thought ran through your brain, you automatically looked at Uta, catching sight of his profile in the light of the setting sun and your heart clenched as you realized that he’s beautiful. 

It’s with difficulty that you manage to look away but not before he catches you staring from the corner of his eye. “You’re always looking at me… Yet, you never try and get closer…” Uta’s hands are in his pockets and he is barely a foot away. “Does fear keep you at a distance…” He took a step forward. 

Coming almost uncomfortably close. 

“Or is there another….” 

Without conscious thought, you tilt your head up and your lips meet his. 

The contact is light, barely a graze, and there’s the cool sensation of his lip ring...it’s odd but hardly distracting. Your heart is beating like a jack rabbit in your chest and you know this isn’t good for you.

 As you go to pull away, to disconnect, that’s when Uta finally, finally, responds.

He places a hand on the back of your neck, keeping you close before tilting his head, leaned in and kissed you again. 

There’s nothing teasing or patient about it. He nipped your bottom lip, barely waiting for you to part your lips before his tongue twined and stroked, expertly playing with your own, and you felt a zing of excitement travel down you spine as your tongue lightly grazed his tongue ring. 

Your right hand goes to his shoulder, squeezing, holding on desperately as your legs threaten to give out. 

Effortlessly, Uta holds you up, his other hand going to the dip of your back, and when you break the kiss to get some air into your burning lungs, Uta peppers feather light kisses down the column of your throat, sucking a spot just behind your ear. Only when you gasp his name, a mere whisper of a breath really, only then, does he finally stop.

Uta tops that....bombardment off with a light kiss to your forehead, lingering. Then he murmurs into your ear, “That’s how you kiss me from now on.” 

With his piece said, as if he hadn’t pretty much swept you off your feet and left you stuck in LaLa Land, Uta brushed a hand down his shirt, straightening out imaginary wrinkles, before he walked away. It took a few seconds for your brain to reboot and then you hurried after him, chastising him for being mean.

There are a hundred different words that lingered on the edge and never escape your mouth. A thousand questions you never got the answer to. 

There are no more kisses between you and Uta. 

You pass away in your sleep that night December 31, 2XXX at 11:59 P.M. alone in your rented hotel room, dreaming of an impossible reality; of happiness between yourself and the ghoul who for a brief moment, made you feel important, seen, and desired. 

Almost as if he could love you.

[juiceastronaut]

Okay so. I watched Q-force. And I have no idea what I think about it.

Imma just be rambling so I'll break down the characters and my likes/dislikes about them before giving my plot breakdown at the end. Only the main/prominent ones because I don't have time.

Steve Maryweather-Easily the best character out of them, with Deb being a close second. He could've very easily fallen into the trope of being someone who was incompetent but expected the world anyway, but he doesn't. He graduated top of his class, and despite his quirks is a genuinely competent team leader, and wants the best for his team. He wants to prove that he and his team are competent enough to get recognition, and has a genuine faith in the people around him. It was refreshing to see him hold his team in a genuine high regard, where a lot of times it's like "We're shit but lets do this thing now" He's a genuinely well-rounded character, and (and forgive me if this isn't the best way to frame this) it feels like being gay is an important part of his character, without encompassing the whole thing. I thought Benji and his relationship was super cute and I was sad when they broke up. I was afraid he was going to be, like a second but worse Twink with the stereotyping but gladly fell away from that.

Deb-I thought her and her wife were super cute (though I hate how the wife is designed ngl adjafkldajfd). I liked Debs character, but I feel like she had a lot of racial stereotyping that wouldn't be inherently obvious unless you were looking for them, her being the strong one, and also the "mama" type at the same time. No one treated her with disrespect, and her lesbianism seemed to be more authentic but I feel like there wasn't a lot of thought put into what these tropes were and why they were bad. Her being black and making her the mama type, as well as the big strong type could be read as tasteless. Again, I really liked her character but these were some things I noticed while watching.

Twink- You know, I didn't really like him at first, I thought he was the epitome of all the bad stereotyping (though I'm just glad him and Mary didn't get put into the same category). His humor isn't my taste, and it just kinda seemed like someone for half of his lines went "what twitter stan language can we put in here?" And sometimes it was a bit too random for my tastes. However! I do like that his drag was considered important and was an integral part to a lot of missions they went on, and not just "Ah look at that dumb gay trying to find reasons to dress in drag." His talents and expertise were both respected and, save for Buck (which his whole point was supposed to be offensive anyway) no one undermined Twink for his femininity. His back story is also kinda random but did play a role in the missions as well. Still, personally think he's the worst character. Plus, he's French so minus four-twenties amount of points.

Stat-You know, in a show where everyone was stating what letter they were every few seconds I was surprised that I had to look up that Stat was trans. I...liked her character for the most part, except the part where she was fucking a robot. Kinda weird ngl, outta left field, and with her being trans I wonder if her having that sort of relationship is problematic for her. Love her design tho, love me a hacker girl. She's also listed as "ambiguously gay" tho showed to have mostly girl love interests but, okay.

Buck-He's the straight guy, emotionally repressed haha and he's bigoted. Did think it was funny later on when he was more "accepting" but managed to be even more infuriating about it. Tied with Twink as worse character but you know they tried to do stuff with him.

Vee-Really liked me a boss lady, but kinda weird how they bait-and-switched us with her actually being a lesbian, then go "no she's straight tho" in regards to Karen. I thought her and Mary's relationship was cute, wish I saw more of it. But she did feel like a random plot device in later seasons, what with her disappearing and reappearing when it was plot relevant. (Tho she HOTOHOTHOTHOT bikini episode WOOOWEEEE)

....

Okay, so now the plot....which. it had one?

It felt like it was flip flopping back n forth about whether it wanted to take itself seriously or not, and it seemed to decide on serious more towards the end, but then it would have this random plot element that would be so out of left field it would pull me out of my suspension of disbelief. See the whole "Back cracking to unlock memories" plot point. This back and forth on whether it would be a comedy or not I think weakened both categories it tried to play into.

If I had to compare the show to anything it would probably be Futurama, but the thing with Futurma is, its set in the future, so you're suspension of disbelief is allowed to stretch a bit more because all the wacky quirky stuff can be attributed to future shenanigans. Q-force, to my knowledge, is set in the modern day, which makes the wacky stuff that much wacker, because it's set in our modern times, which you apply the rules of everyday life to.

A lot of the problems that I had with Q-Force is, in the attempt to write specifically about the "gay experience" revealed that the writers have really only had a very specific experience of interacting with gay ppl, what I call the "Urban Gay" experience.

The fact they're in West Hollywood, and all the things that were listed as "universal gay experiences" but were only things that you'd be exposed to if you were in the city. I think a flavor of "white gay" can be implemented here too, which Q force has exactly one black woman, who manages to be the only lesbian.

That coupled with the fact that, there's a difference between having Twink naturally being a drag queen, the whole team being gay to some degree, and the fact they interact with the gay community often without Drawing Attention to all of those things and self-congratulating itself on concluding it. Funnily enough, Q-Force had examples of doing this right and doing this right. Right way: In the second or third episode where Mary found that guy with the flash drive to the uranium in it and seduced him in the gay bar. Relevant that it was gay without overtly drawing attention to it. Wrong-Way: Having Pride go on while Girl Boss was trying to take over the world.

And, for the show that promoted itself as representing the gay experience, there were...two gay men, one lesbian, one trans person, one straight guy and...no bisexual people. Also no nonbinary people. Like of course it's unrealistic to include every single identity but you're one bisexual person who appeared for one episode and was promptly blown up. And also showed to be...more off than the other characters, what with the stealing of silverware and all. Just, bisexual people are already forgotten enough as it is and not including them in the show, but you include two gay men just kinda reads as tasteless to me (as a bisexual person, obviously).

Which makes it so weird that Stat was left "ambiguously gay" when she could've easily been bisexual (which still would be problematic because of the robot-fucking but at least you got the B in there somewhere in the main group)

Overall, it tried to market itself as the "be all end all" of what it was like to be gay, but ended up excluding the exact people that get excluded in real-life lgbt spaces. This combined with the indecision with what kind of show it wanted to be managed to make it fall short. If you arent the very specific type of gay person who lives in a city environment and doesn't fit the stereotypes showed you're not going to feel "seen" by the show.

Weirdly though, I didn't hate watching it, and I would probably watch another season if they managed to make one. The parts that did work, I think worked really well, and even the bad parts just read as tasteless, and not actively terrible. If they focused less on making "hey I'm gay" jokes every three seconds and just let each character be what they are I think the show would be stronger for it. And I think they'd find less problems overall if they did that too. In the mean time I'll just be here side-eyeing the whole thing.

Edit: I forgot to mention, and this is a problem a lot of adult TV shows fall into, that because they got the clear to show nudity/sex they felt like they *had* to show nudity and to a lesser extent sex every episode. So just that whole "Haha adult=sex obviously."

Oh! And this generally goes for the whole "shove it in your face" part, but a lot of the characters who are bigoted were shown to be. Very blatantly so. And not to say there isn't blatantly bigoted ppl of course they are but I don't think that's where you see a lot of bigotry nowadays. This was sort of touched on during the show but more of a jokey manner, but I think it would've been more realistic if we had more "girl with a gay best friend" kinda bigotry as opposed to the "I'm literally hurling slurs at you" bigotry, especially since they're in Cali.

[elisela]

touch has a memory & mine is you buck x eddie, for @buckleysbabe on her birthday ♥️ (ao3)

----

It starts small—just Buck’s hand wrapping around his wrist to tug him close when a crowd of people at Dodger Stadium nearly separate them as they meet in front of the stadium—but when Buck starts to let go, Eddie swings his arm in closer, presses their bare forearms together. It’s been weeks since they’ve spent time together; another earthquake and dozens of first responders injured across the city meant temporary transfers and shifts being changed from 24-72 to 24-48, and they somehow hadn’t found time for anything other than phone calls and texts for nearly a month.

“God, I missed you,” Buck says, and when he swings his arm up on Eddie’s shoulders, Eddie can’t help but lean into it. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, forcing himself to pull back, embarrassed. “I knew you’d be late, Buck, we’re gonna miss the first pitch.”

Buck makes a noise and pulls him closer. “Yeah, yeah, there’s at least 200 more after that,” he says.

“That’s—” he wrinkles up his nose, thinking, “seven pitches per batter on average. Kershaw is starting tonight—”

“Eddie,” Buck sighs, “are you seriously trying to lecture me about baseball already? You know I need a beer before you start in on all this.”

Eddie elbows him in retaliation, but Buck still doesn’t move his arm, so Eddie elbows him harder, until he snatches it away and hits Eddie back, the two of them play fighting like children until they get up to the gate and Buck backs away, pulling the tickets out of his pocket, and Eddie misses the heat of his body even though it’s what he had meant to happen.

----

Eddie had never realized how much Buck touched him until he wasn’t anymore. His new crew at Station 69 (which had made Buck snort milk through his nose when Bobby had given him the—temporary—transfer papers) aren’t a close bunch; they have his number and he’s gotten a few texts on his off hours, but no one is spending their days off with him, sending him pictures of cats available for adoption and whining when he points out how much work an animal is, and certainly no one has shown up at his house unannounced with take-out and a new board game. And they certainly aren’t as touchy as his team; no one squeezes his shoulder as they pass by, knocks their arms together on the way to the truck, or sprawls against his side while they play video games on the couch. They’re perfectly respectful of his personal space, and Eddie fucking hates it.

He makes it three innings before Buck twists in his seat towards him and leans in with an intense look on his face, knee bumping up against Eddie’s. “Okay, tell me what’s going on.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Uh, Betts is on first and Hernandez is up to the plate, but he’s got two strikes and—Buck, seriously, haven’t I taught you enough about baseball for you to be able to follow this?”

Buck looks unimpressed. “I meant with you. You’re—weird.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You know what I mean,” Buck says. “Is something wrong? Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“You are now,” he says, looking away. “Let it go. And don’t you dare start singing that song.” Buck huffs out a breath next to him, and when he doesn’t move away, Eddie stands up. “I’m gonna go grab more beers,” he says, ignoring the half-full bottles in the cupholders in front of them, and he flees.

----

Chris is going through a phase.

At least, that’s what Eddie hopes it is.

Twelve is apparently too old to be hugged by your dad, to let him give you a kiss goodbye, or goodnight—too old for anything except an occasional bump against the shoulder in the kitchen, or a fist bump a second before he opens the door to the truck to be dropped off at school.

If Eddie holds his arms out, Chris looks at him flatly. If Eddie follows him to his bedroom door at night to tuck him in, Chris draws his name out through several syllables and declares that he’s not a kid and definitely doesn’t need to be tucked in. If Eddie reaches out a hand to place on his back while they go out to dinner, or to a movie, Chris ducks out of his way and shakes his head.

The touch-aversion is killing Eddie.

----

In the sixth, Buck’s fingers brush against his as he hands him a plate of nachos.

In the seventh, Seager hits a homerun and his skin buzzes after Buck gives him a high-give, lacing their fingers together briefly before Eddie pulls away.

In the eighth, he squeezes past Eddie to use the bathroom, one hand on Eddie’s waist when Eddie stands to let him through.

After the ninth, he stays in his seat, looking over at Eddie thoughtfully as they wait for the crowd to thin out before leaving. “You gonna talk to me now? No one’s around.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he says. There’s not. So what if no one has touched Eddie outside of calls in a month? So what if that sort of contact isn’t enough for him, if he craves the kind of touch Buck has so freely given him over the years? It’s not Buck’s problem that Eddie is touch starved, and he refuses to make it his problem. He just needs a little distance, because every time Buck touches him, it’s all Eddie can do to not plaster himself to Buck and take the comfort he desperately wants.

Buck groans. “Eds, it’s been a month since we’ve gotten to see each other and if you think I’ve forgotten how to tell when something is wrong, I haven’t. Did I do something? Did we make plans that I forgot about, or—” he reaches out and puts his hand on Eddie’s thigh, and Eddie stands up.

“Come on,” he says, “traffic’s probably died down a little by now.”

----

It’s not that he doesn’t know what his problem is, or that he hasn’t tried to solve it. He’d tried a massage—extremely uncomfortable once he’d realized that he was basically paying someone to make him feel good and couldn’t get the thought out of his head—gotten an unnecessary haircut, tried a pedicure.

Nothing worked.

He doesn’t want someone to touch him just because he wants it, he wants them to want it, too. He doesn’t want fingers digging into tired ankles, he wants someone’s palm to rest against his skin and stay there, to put down roots and make a home inside him.

He wants—deperately—Buck.

----

It doesn’t surprise him to see the Jeep’s headlights sweep across the front of his house a few minutes after he arrives home; he hadn’t bothered locking the door, knowing that ignoring four of Buck’s phone calls meant that he would surely show up.

But Buck doesn’t come in and make himself at home, just opens the door, leans against the frame with arms crossed over his chest, and says, “why don’t you want me touching you? Why didn’t you just say something? I would have stopped, Eddie.”

Eddie waves him in, but Buck stays stubbornly where he is. “It’s not a big deal,” he says. “Come on, let’s watch something.”

“It’s a big deal to me,” Buck insists. “I made you uncomfortable, and I—I’m really sorry, Eddie. I just—can you tell me why?”

Eddie tilts his head forward and pinches the bridge of his nose; Buck sounds hurt and small, and Eddie knows without a doubt that if he lets him leave feeling like this, they’re going to go weeks without seeing each other again, and the phone calls will drop off, too. He scrubs a hand across his face, takes in a deep breath and says, eyes still focused on the ground in front of him, “I haven’t—no one’s touched me in weeks.”

Buck is silent.

“I thought I might not be able to stop,” he admits. “I just want—” he stops, shakes his head. “It’s pathetic. I’m sorry.”

“Did you know if you hug someone for twenty seconds, it releases oxytocin?” Buck asks, and Eddie hears the front door closing before Buck’s footsteps sound across the floor. “There’s a surprising amount of health benefits,” he says, and Eddie looks up in time to see Buck’s hands reaching for him.

He goes willingly when Buck pulls him up, buries his head in Buck’s shoulder as he wraps his arms around him, and breathes him in. Twenty seconds—that’s new. They’re quick huggers, usually, lingering for a few seconds sometimes, hands on each other's shoulders or waists, but it’s—comforting. Buck is warm against him, and Eddie loses count when he gets to twenty in his head and Buck still doesn’t move except for the rhythmic sweep of fingertips along the back of his neck. He gives in and lets his body melt against Buck’s, lets his fingers creep up into Buck’s hair and run through the soft strands, gives up his dignity entirely and pushes the arm around Buck’s waist underneath the shirt he’s wearing and places his palm against skin.

“Eddie,” Buck sighs, and a shiver jolts up his spine, and Eddie blames that for the very stupid, very reckless thing he does next: slides his hand further up into Buck’s hair to hold his head still, tilts his own head up, and kisses him. He kisses him like he’s been wandering the desert for days and Buck has handed him water, kisses him like the last bit of air left in the world resides in Buck’s lungs, kisses him like he’s a sinner and Buck is his reconciliation.

His knees hit the back of the couch and he falls, Buck landing on his lap, and Buck only moves away to say, “this isn’t just because—please tell me this—”

“It’s not,” Eddie says, chasing after Buck’s mouth, “Jesus, you have no idea—”

“Kinda think I do,” Buck says, and he dips down to kiss him again. “Hey Eddie,” he says, hands framing Eddie’s face, thumbs brushing over his skin, “did you know that skin to skin contact reduces the amount of cortisol in your body?”

Eddie can’t stop touching him—hands on his waist, stroking up his back, digging his fingertips into Buck’s biceps as they kiss. He hums, reeling in his desperation, the desire that sings through his frantic heartbeat. “Got any suggestions?”

“I can think of a few,” Buck says, and his fingertips dance along the hemline of Eddie’s shirt.

----

Later—hours later—Eddie’s sprawled out on his front, head pillowed on Buck’s shoulder, fingertips counting out the steady beat of Buck’s pulse as Buck sweeps his hand gently up and down Eddie’s back. And he loves it, but—“you don’t have to keep touching me,” he says into Buck’s skin. “Don’t feel like—”

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” he says, quietly.

“Then let me keep doing it,” Buck says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Can you do 60 for indruck, NSFW? Thank you so much! Love your work!

Here it is! I set it in the same world as this sternclay fill. Credit to @bellafarallones for playing in this space on discord. Apollo is from my Super hero AU

“All I’m sayin is it seems mighty unfair to me that one fella gets a handler-assistant type deal and the rest of us don’t.” Duck crosses his arms as Ned fiddles with the pen on his desk.

“You’re not wrong, dear boy, but Apollo was in high demand from the higher ups-”

“Because he’s a shallow dipshit with a mean streak who’ll be good for ratings?”

“Precisely. He demanded in his contract that we allow his twin to continue his work as his photographer and assistant. He has over a million followers on Instagram, so those photos will be a boost to the show. Just try to get along for the camera’s?”

“His brother ain’t even on camera.” Duck mutters.

“I meant with Apollo.”

Duck shrugs, defeated, “sure thing, Ned.”

As he walks back to the main house, he mulls over the fact that the twin (Indrid, he thinks that’s the guys name) bugs him more than Apollo does. Apollo is vain, mean, and selfish, but at least that gets him things, even makes sense for the kind of show they’re on. Indrid gains nothing by helping him out here. Except protection from the bully, which Duck finds to be the worst kind of cowardice. Hopefully Vincent, this season’s bachelor, will see through the “influencer” and send him packing ASAP.

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

Four weeks in, and this is exactly what Duck was worried about. Not only is Indrid hovering around his brother like a nervous moth (excet when cameras are near, at which point he ducks out of frame), he’s doing fucking nothing to reign him in.

A few frontrunners are starting to emerge, and with that claws are coming out. Barclay, a chef and all around nice guy, is the target of choice. Nico and Josh both took bites out of him this morning. But Apollo sunk his teeth in like a dog on a fox, calling him, among other things, a pathetic, six-foot puppy dog who no man would ever want. The cook left noticeably teary eyed. Duck was about to block the cameras from following when Joseph beat him to it. Which is weird, because he thought Joe couldn’t stand Barclay. Apollo flounces off, but Duck corners Indrid where he’s been stoically watching his brother be a raging asshole.

“What the fuck man?”

‘Wrong twin.” Indrid says flatly, indicating his silver hair, tied back in a half-bun. His dark roots are showing and his eyebrows are black, unlike Apollo’s immaculate blonde dye job and bleached brows.

“Nope, right one. You’re his handler, cant’ you fuckin intervene when he’s doin’ shit like that? Or are you just here to let him hurt whoever he feels like?”

Indrid fixes him with a bitter smile, “If there were a way to make my brother be kind or, indeed, see others as people, don’t you think I’d have found it and used it everyday since?”

“I-”

“You people have no idea how much I’m already doing. I kept him from going after you yesterday by reminding him he looks ugly when he yells on camera. And if nothing else console yourself with the fact you all have only to deal with him for a few months. Some of us have endured twenty-eight years of it.”

With that, he turns and stalks from the room. As he leaves, Duck can’t shake the thought that his black denim jacket and worn jeans fit him better than Apollo’s designer ones ever could.

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

Indrid understands why there’s so much alcohol on set, but he can’t partake (too bitter) and it makes Apollo even harder to handle than usual. Which is why Indrid is out on the grounds at ten p.m, intending to hide from his brother until dawn.

At six weeks in, fan favorites are getting more established and Indrid, needing to predict Apollo’s mood in order to do his job, is keeping a close eye on them. His twin is well-liked for being snarky and hot, though he suspects the large number of contestants means there have been limited chances for his unpleasant side to be showcased. Joseph is another, because of course he is, movie-star handsome with an interesting past. Barclay is beloved for the very things that the other contestants torment him for. And Duck? Duck is quickly becoming the one people think Vincent will choose.

Indrid thinks they’re right. He’s charming in an understated way, funny, and while Apollo needles him for his “dad bod,” Indrid and Vincent have both noticed the muscles in his arms. Who gives a damn about flat abs? Indrid would much rather have something soft to rest his head on while those green eyes look lovingly down at him. His crush on Duck is useless, persistent, and must be hidden from Apollo at all costs.

His foot catches something solid and he tumbles over the obstacle to land ass-first on the lawn.

“Ow.” He glares at the object. The object turns out to be Duck Newton, who's obviously drunk as he sits up.

“Sorry man, thought no one’d come out here. Oh it’s you, it's, uh, fuck, fuck c'mon” he snaps his fingers as he searches his thoughts, “It's cute Apollo!”

“Indrid.” Surely Duck didn’t mean to use that adjective. Right?

“No, I’m Duck?”

He snickers, “No, I meant I’m Indrid.”

“Ohhh, right. You're Indrid. I'm Duck. That's the big dipper” He points at the sky. Indrid follows the line and grins, delighted.”

“It is!”

“Uhhuh. C'mere, can show you more.” Duck pats the spot beside him and lays back. Indrid scoots closer and reclines as well, making appreciative sounds each time Duck shows him a constellation.

As they’re studying the sky, the other man whispers, “Can I tell you a secret? I, I think Joe’n Barclay are into each other now."

“The way they look at each other is not exactly subtle.”

‘“Heh, yeah.” he links his hands across his belly, “I think they're in love. You ever been in love?”

“No.” He sighs, not wanting to dwell on that pile of baggage, “You?”

“Nope. And, uh, don’t, don’t tell anyone but I don't think I am with Vincent. Maybe I could be? Does that make me a bad person? He's nice, think he likes me a lot but, I, I dunno.”

“Not being in love with someone doesn’t make you a bad person. No more than loving someone does.”

Indrid is hard to surprise; years of getting out ahead of his brother and father taught him how to see things coming. But nothing could prepare him for Duck rolling to hide his face against Indrid’s chest. Not knowing what else to do, he pats his back, notices a woodsy scent tingling his nose.

“You smell good.” He winces; that was too creepy, now Duck will pull the comforting bulk of his body away.

“Thanks. I bought a bunch of cologne when I realized I was actually going to be a contestant. News clothes too. Thought it would give me an edge but...I dunno, can't compete with a guy like your brother.”

“Join the club.” Indrid reaches up to toy with a lock of Duck’s black hair, expecting Duck to bat him away. Instead, he sighs and turns his head to give Indrid better access.

“You could compete with ‘im. You're cuter. Nicer too.”

“Oh. Ah. Thank you.”

Duck’s fidgets with the mothman pin on Indrid’s jacket, “You wanna cuddle?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“No one cuddles with me. And we ain’t allowed to cuddle Vincent yet.” He looks up, lips pouting just enough to be charming.

Indrid let’s a purr enter his voice, “That’s a shame. I’m happy to cuddle.”

Duck rolls more of his body onto Indrid, resolutely nestling his head under his chin and tangling their legs together. His hands stay on Indrid’s chest and shoulders, though he’s now drunkenly petting Indrid’s collarbone, making him shiver. He expends four months worth of daring in a second, wrapping his arms around the curves of Duck’s torso. When Duck’s fingers brush skin instead of shirt, Indrid whimpers, then bites his lip and prays it went unnoticed.

“You don’t get cuddled much either, do you?” Duck murmurs thoughtfully.

“No.”

“Damn shame, you’re real good at it. Can cuddle me any time.”

Indrid “mmhmms” knowing the promise is like the stars; bright and comforting in the darkness, but ultimately beyond his reach.

Three day later, he drops his guard; Apollo’s been on his good behavior since Vincent’s been spending more time with him. You’d think Indrid would learn by now that all his venom has to go somewhere.

He’s huddled down in the rec room trying not to cry; it’s pathetic enough that he let such childish insults get to him, but to cry over them would confirm everything his brother said.

“Indrid? You, uh, you okay?” Duck’s reflection in the darkened T.V approaches his own.

“I'm fine.” It’s the same inflection he’s used hundreds of times, but Duck sits down on the couch all the same.

“Do you, uh, need a hug?’

“No.” He replies a hair too quickly.

“Do you want one?”

“......Badly.”

Duck opens his arms and Indrid shifts on the cushions, doing his best to curl his long limbs so they’ll fit in his embrace. The shorter man notices, concern flashing on his face.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Okay. You, uh, wanna hear the most exciting news of the day?” He waits for Indrid to nod, “there was a cougar sightin’ in the foothills near here!”

“That is both very exciting and alarming.”

“Doubt it’d go after folks, they try to steer clear of people. We don’t have ‘em back home, but you learn what to do when you’re also learnin how to deal with bears.”

“How does one deal with a bear? Other than buying them a drink.”

Duck snorts, relaxes further into the couch, “Depends on how soon you see ‘em…”

They emerge two hours later, and Indrid is so engrossed in their conversation about hiking incidents that he runs smack into a camera man. While he’s apologizing profusely, Duck guffaws, steadies him, and leads him off in search of somewhere to watch the sunset.

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

“Oooh, ooh, look, sea lions!” Indrid points to the distant wharf.

“Good eye. Man, those fuckers are big. Glad none of ‘em were in the water when we did that fuckin cliff dive.”

“I for one would pay good money to see my brother chased by a sea lion.”

Duck chuckles, pops the tab on his WhiteClaw. They’re having dinner on the beach, a gourmet spread meant to encourage them to show off their pallets. Indrid took Barclay’s recommendation and ordered the whole, grilled snapper, which he assumed he’d be eating alone; Vincent’s attention has been on Duck ever since he went swimming this morning. Duck seems to be enjoying it, but come dinner time he demurred (“gotta let some of the other fellas have a chance”) and brought his basket of fried oysters over to join Indrid on the sand.

“Speakin of your brother, kinda surprised he didn't make any digs at this whole, uh, situation.” Duck gestures to the torso Indrid is currently aching to lick droplets of saltwater from. To subdue the craving, he licks salt from his fingers before replying.

“I, ah, the last time he tried to, I reminded him of all the pictures I have of him eating. He hates to be seen eating. Most of the time.” He tilts his head towards his twin, who’s chowing down next to Vincent without a care for the cameras. Indrid sets his hand on the warm sand, “I’ve been trying to, well, reign him in as you suggested. Or at least make him think twice about his choices.”

(Indrid omits the part where he’s most likely to risk it if Duck is the one with the target on his back).

Duck sets his hand down beside Indrid’s, brushes sand from the side of it with a calloused thumb, “Mighty good of you. But, uh, think I mighta read things wrong that day. You gotta handle him how you think best. Just, uh, just promise me you won’t sacrifice your own well-bein’ for my sake, or anyone else’s. We’re all grown-ass men; we can handle it.”

“I promise.” He lies.

The other man leans back on his hands, green eyes drifting across the waves. Indrid would gladly sit in silence the rest of the night, it’s so easy to be comfortable in the lull when it’s Duck filling the space beside him.

Eventually, the ranger murmurs, “It’s so fuckin breathtaking. The ocean, I mean. Maybe if you live on a coast you get used to it but man, it is somethin;.”

“More so than the forest?”

Duck smiles, “It’s like apples and oranges. Monongahela got its own charms; you’d have a blast takin pictures and drawin there, believe me. If, uh, if Apollo and I both make it to the final four, uh, maybe we could take a few hours durin’ my hometown visit and I could show you my favorite spot.

Indrid imagines the two of them beneath the trees, walking hand in hand.

“I’d like that.”

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

“You know you’re just a distraction, right?”

Indrid doesn’t look at his brother, just flips the page in his book, “I doubt that. You’ve said, often, that I’m too off-putting to be interesting.”

“Not when there’s competition for someone superior; Duck knows he might not win. You’re his back-up if he doesn’t, and a way to kill time until the end. Once Vincent sends him home, which he most definitely will, he’ll keep you around until something better comes along.”

“Don’t act like you know him.” Indrid hisses, looking up just in time to see something scurrying behind the triumph on Apollo’s face: fear.

So, his brother has a new weakness. He’ll tuck that away for later; this is shaping up to be an unpleasant conversation, but not one requiring quite that degree of weapon.

“You should thank me. If I weren’t so captivating, Vincent would spend all his time with Duck. Then you’d be without any attention at all. Even Duck’s taste isn’t that abysmal.” He grins his several thousand dollar smile, “he and Vincent are probably laughing about it right now.”

Indrid stands, crosses the tiny room, “Shut up, Apollo.”

Then he slams the door. There’s a yelp, followed by “you hit my nose, you pathetic excuse for a man, ow, open this door this instant I’m not done with you!”

He flicks the lock and sits back on the bed. There’s a tin of sensory putty on his nightstand and he opens it, playing with it between his fingers. Duck brought it for him after a museum date with Vincent. The image of him not only thinking of Indrid when he saw something, but then buying it for him just to see him smile makes him want to grin and hide his face in a pillow like a teenager who just got asked to prom.

But maybe this date is going differently.

Indrid squeezes the putty, repeats the mantra he’s had since he was a child, “Apollo always lies. Apollo always lies.”

Eventually, he’s calm enough to work on some tattoo commissions, is coloring away when there’s a knock on the door. A secret knock Duck invented as a goof. Throwing open the door reveals the shorter man wearing a suit jacket and an exhausted expression. Indrid gestures to the bed, shuts and locks the door as Duck slumps on the mattress and sets his head in his hands.

“Whelp, that was a shit-show.”

“What happened?” Indrid sits cross-legged beside him.

“Vincent went in for a kiss and I, uh, I turned him down. I mean, he took it well because he’s a sweet guy but I, I feel like shit.”

“There’s no shame in not wanting to kiss just yet.”

“That ain’t the problem. I, I wanna kiss someone on this set, but it ain’t him. Indrid” he looks up, green eyes watery, “Indrid, I think I’m fallin in love with you.”

“Oh. I, are you sure-”

“The whole night, and I mean the whole fuckin night, I was thinkin about you. Thought how nice the trip to the botanical gardens would be with you there to point out color combos and get excited about butterflies. Wanted to hold your hand over dinner. Fuck, when they brought out the dessert menu all I could think was how fun it’d be to order one of each thing to surprise you so you’d do that thing you do with your hands when you’re real excited.” Duck turns, sets his hands on Indrid’s shoulders, “‘Drid, if you don’t want this, I’ll back off but-”

Indrid cuts him off with a kiss, let’s strong arms pull him down to the bed and presses as close to Duck as he can, as if any space between them might be a way for the universe to push them apart.

“Than fuck” Duck pants, cupping his face, “wait, fuck, what do we do now? I can’t string poor Vincent on.”

“We’ll get them to let you out of your contract. It can’t be that hard, right?”

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

“Absolutely not” Ned shakes his head, “dropping out of the show is out of the question.”

“But that ain’t fair to any of us. Can we at least tell Vincent the truth?”

“No, it needs to look as if he naturally decided not to choose you. If not, we could be accused of manipulating results; the last time that happened, the ratings tanked for that season and the next. And my predecessor was fired.”

Duck looks at Indrid, “Guess I’ll just...pull back? That way Vincent won’t have a reason to choose me and’ll let me go soon.”

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

“Droppin out is outta the question, huh?” Duck mutters to Indrid as they watch Barclay and Joseph walk off holding hands, the host eagerly asking them questions as they go.

“I suppose he didn’t drop so much as sprint.” Indrid glances at the rose in Duck’s hand, “congratulations on making the final...well, final three now.”

“Thanks? Guess Apollo’s pretty happy about it too.”

“Yes, but his ego needs no stroking.” Indrid smiles, “maybe this means you’ll get to show me the woods?”

“I hope so. Huh. What are they gonna do with the rest of us when it’s not our turn for the hometown visit?”

The answer turns out to be: drag everyone to each hometown. Because they no longer have Joe’s trip to do, Ned decided they needed more scenes of the contestants exploring where their competitors came from.

Kepler is first, and tonight is the night Duck’s been dreading. His romantic, home-town date that everyone expects to end with at least some kissing. He manages to make it through dinner, even enjoys showing Vincent the down-town he spent years roaming. But as they start down the river walk for a romantic stroll, his heart is trying to smash its way out of his ribs.

“It’s alright, you know.” Vincent stops, guiding Duck to face him, “the fact you want to be with Indrid.”

“I, uh, fuck, I, I don’t not know, uh, fuck-” he closes his eyes, “how’d you know?”

“I’m more observant than I get credit for.” Vincent brushes his cheek, “I’ve had a hunch for weeks now, but I kept you around because I liked having you here, even if I suspected it wasn’t going to end with us together. I’m very fond of you, Duck. You deserve someone who makes you happy. I promise I’ll send you home this next rose ceremony”

“Christ” Duck chuckles, “you’re a hell of a guy too, Vince. I hope whoever you pick treats you right. I, uh, can I, should we…?”

Vincent plants a chaste kiss on his cheek, then smiles, “go get him.”

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

“Any twos?”

“No. Go fish.”

Apollo grumbles as he takes another card. Given Duck and Vincent are on their date, neither he nor Indrid is having a good night. Before Indrid can make his ask, his twin says, “How do you get people to like you?”

“Why do you care? You’ve made it this far, so obviously Vincent likes you a great deal”

“I don’t just mean him. I, I mean, I want him to like me. To want me. But I suspect he’d like me better if other people did.”

Indrid idly taps his cards, “I suggest you stop acting like our father.”

“I’m nothing like him!” Apollo squawks.

“Oh, but you are. Everything he taught us you still hold as true; you’re just the newest version of men like him. Self-absorbed. Cruel. Shallow. I’m amazed you’ve gotten this far with Vincent, given that the age difference means you’d be caring for him in his old age.”

“I, I can care for him. I will!”

“Apollo, I wouldn’t trust you to care for a potted plant.” He sets his cards down.

“At least I’m not a-”

“Ambitionless deviant who has to ride his brother’s coattails to survive?”

“Wha--how-”

“Like I said; you’re just like him. Down to your insults.” Indrid stands, “I’m going to bed. I suggest you do the same.”

His brother remains speechless--a rare state for him--as he closes the door and heads for his room. He doubts Duck will do anything on the date (hell, the two of them have only been able to steal some kisses now and then), but the whole charade has him feeling low.

There are far more cameras in the rented house than there were a few hours ago. Which means the rest of the crew is back. Does that also mean…

“Hey, sugar. I was just lookin for you.”

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

Duck’s glad his door is open, because otherwise Indrid would have smashed it to pieces dragging them both through it. He’d only gotten out the barest explanation before the taller man was kissing his face and tugging at his clothes, purring “mine” over and over again.

“Yep, all yours.” He shuts the door as Indrid mouths at his neck, “which also means you’re all mine.” He yanks Indrid’s black sweater up and over his head, sends the matching t-shirt after it a moment later. Indrid whines, fumbling with Duck’s dress shirt, and he gets an idea.

“Uh uh, only good boys who show me why they deserve it get to feel me up.”

Indrid groans into his shoulder, fisting the fabric of his jacket “What constitutes good behavior in this instance?”

“One sec, don’t go nowhere.” He starts to step past him, pauses to grips his chin and pull him into another kiss, “and no peekin.”

As he digs through his bag for the strap on he brought just in case, he keeps an eye on Indrid to be sure he’s following the directions. The taller man’s fingers twitch, but his head stays still. God, Duck is going to memorize the shape of each of the tattoos decorating his skin with his mouth.

“You did real good.” He slips around Indrid once more, resting his back on the wall. Indrid notices the new bulge in his pants and thuds to his knees.

“May I?”

“You better.”

Indrid undoes the button of his fly. Then he looks at Duck over the rim of his glasses as he takes the zipper between his teeth and pulls it down. When the black silicone of the strap breaks free, Indrid cocks his head as if unsure of his options. Duck doesn’t really have a plan--he just wants to be with him, to make him feel good and show him just what weeks of pent-up desire have done to him--but he’s starting to regret that choice.

Indrid flicks hair from his face and wraps his lips around the head of the cock experimentally. He hums, sucking on it a moment, then pulls back blushing, “This is going to sound strange but, ah, I, I really like that. It’s such a lovely texture on my tongue, it’s, it’s almost soothing to suck.”

“Guess you better keep suckin it then, huh?” Duck runs the fingers of his right hand through Indrid’s hair.

“Is that really alright? It can’t feel like much on your end.”

“Don’t mean it ain’t fun to watch. But, uh” he touches the edge of Indrid’s red glasses, “it okay if I take these off?”

Indrid nods and Duck slides them free, tucks them into his breast pocket for safekeeping as Indrid draws the cock into his mouth again. He focuses on the head at first, humming and moaning as it bumps his cheek. Then Duck sees him swallow and relax the muscles of his jaw as he presses closer. Little puffs of breath tickle Duck’s skin as Indrid gets most of the cock in his mouth, cheeks hollowing and head bobbing as he sucks. Hungry noises burlbe up his throat, and the more he lets himself go the messier he becomes, spit coating his lips and eyes fluttering closed in bliss.

“Okay, I lied.”

Brown eyes shoot him a disbelieving look.

“This ain’t fun. This is one of the hottest fuckin things I’ve ever seen.”

Indrid wiggles happily on his knees, left hand dropping to rubs his own cock through his jeans.

“Needy little thing, gotta have somethin down your throat and around your dick at the same time.”

“MMMhhmmm” Indrid purrs, the picture of filthy perfection.

“If, if you swallow the whole thing, I’ll let you finger-fuck me.”

Both hands fly to his thighs with an excited moan. Indrid’s brow crinkles with determination as he slowly, carefully brings his lips to the base of the toy. Duck groans out “good boy” and shoves his pants down, Indrid helping to drag them to his ankles. Indrid keeps his left hand on Duck’s hip while the right hovers below his folds. Duck takes it, the toy making the angle a bit awkward, and guides it against him.

“Start with one.”

Indrid nods, moans reverently as he obeys. Duck curses, looks down to find Indrid watching him attentively. Duck is going to wreck him. Then he’s going to cuddle him to sleep and wonder at the fact he got this lucky.

“You’re doin’ great, sugar. Promise I’ll tell you if you need to adjustOH, ohyeah” he lets his head rest against the chipped white of the door, “that’s the spot. Fuck it, add one more, Ahfuck, yeah, those artists fingers are fuckin perfect for this.”

Another purr and then a sharp, choked noise. Duck looks down, realizing he rolled his hips without meaning to. Before he can apologize, Indrid grips his thigh and shakes his head.

“You like that?”

“Mmhhmmm” Indrid traces a heart on his belly.

“You’ll pull off you need to?”

“Mhmmmm.” Indrid curls his fingers as his stretched lips manage to grin.

“Fuck!” Duck giggles, “okay, if my darlin wants his face fucked, that’s what he’ll get.” He keeps a hand on Indrid’s shoulder as he lets loose, grunts and curses mingling with the increasingly wet moans of his cock claiming Indrid’s throat. Soon he’s out of words, too busy with the sight of himself forcing Indrid’s lips apart as he tightens around his fingers. Handjobs are a toss-up for him most days; sometimes they work, other times he can’t cum from them at all. It turns out what makes it very easy to do so is-

“‘Drid, fuck, fuck, sugar, yeah, right there, rightthererightthere ohfuckyeah.” He cums, jerking his hips hard enough to punch a new, high sound from Indrid’s throat. The other man pulls off, rests his cheek on Duck’s belly with shuddery, satisfied sighs.

“Y’know” Duck unbuttons his shirt from the bottom up so Indrid can more easily nuzzle the skin there, “I had this whole plan where I was gonna fuck you with this and then ride your face to cum.”

“I’m not opposed.” Indrid grins, bouncing a bit.

“Yeah, but I’ve only got one in me tonight. So” He tosses the shirt away, pulls off the harness as Indrid nibbles his hips, “if you wanna cum, you’re gonna have to do all the work.”

An edge enters his smile, “I can manage that.”

Duck hits the floor with a whump, Indrid trapping him on his back and climbing atop him, all the while kissing him with abandon.

“May I fuck you?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Condom?”

“Dop kit, bathroom, aw come back.”

“Patience, sweetheart” Indrid blows him a kiss, returns a few moments later doing an inelegant dance to kick his jeans and boxers away, “got one!”

“Good, now get back down here before I-AHfuck!” Indrid is on him and in him so fast it knocks his breath away.

“Before what? You’re not going anywhere, you’re mine, alllllll mine.” He drags kisses across Duck’s cheek, then bites his chapped lip as he looks down at him, “right?”

“You know it, nnng, fuck, that’s it sugar, be a good boy and cum for me. Fuck, darlin, wanted this so bad.” He locks his fingers into silver hair to keep Indrid in kissing distance as the other man whimpers, thrusts shallow and rabbity.

“Want you too, so much, I’ll be worth it, I swear, I’ll be good, I’ll, I’ll make you so happy.”

Duck rests their foreheads together, “You already do.”

There’s a high, gasping moan, almost like a chirp, and Indrid rides out his orgasm in drawn-out rolls of his hips. Then he collapses, laughing, on Duck’s chest.

“I, I’m sorry, I just never thought I’d get this. Someone wanting me. Choosing me.”

“I mean, I went on a T.V show to find love, so I know a little somethin about that fear. But I also know findin you is better than anythin I ever imagined.”

“Likewise.” Indrid nestles closer, one hand reaching out to hold Duck’s where it’s flopped on the rug.

“...You realize this means there’s a fifty-fifty chance your brother will win.”

Indrid shrugs, lifts his head to smile at Duck, “I leave that to Vincent. I already got my prize.”