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zepskies · 7 months

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The Miracle Man

Pairing: Boaz Priestly x F. Reader

Summary: The first time you met Priestly was both the worst and best night of your life. He gave you a Miracle.

AN: Here’s the prequel to Code Red! (But this can also be read as stand alone.) I hope you enjoy. And just a note, remember this was circa 2007, still the era of flip phones and iPods, despite the advent of the iPhone.

Word Count: 3,500

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for mature talk. A kind of meet cute, insecurities, angst, breakups, hurt/comfort, sandwiches, fluff and feels.

He was a lone ranger in the Wild West. His weapon of choice?

A dirty mop.

Priestly bopped his head to the music playing from his earbuds. His iPod was tucked in his right jean pocket while he speared the mop across the floor of the sandwich shop. It was three minutes to closing time on a Saturday night, and it was his turn to clean up and lock up.

He was looking forward to getting home, taking a shower, and diving face-first into his bed. But first, he just needed to kill three minutes.

Come on, come on, come oooon, he sang in his mind as the hands on his watch ticked on. While glancing down at said watch, he remembered it had been a gift from Tish for his birthday…

Three months ago. When they were still together.

Priestly heaved a sigh. What were you supposed to do with gifts from your ex that you actually liked? The gifts that made it into your everyday life, not just because they were from the person you thought you loved, but because it was actually hella practical and a nice accessory to keep on your person?

It’s just a damn watch. Don’t make it a big deal, he reminded himself. What was he supposed to do, have a ritual burning of everything Tish had ever touched?

That would take all damn night. And he definitely drew a line at his dick.

“Hello?”

The front door of the shop opened, the little bell Trucker installed chiming with too much cheer and startling Priestly out of his thoughts.

“We’re closed,” he said. But that was before he looked up, and had to pause in his mopping.

You were standing there, holding yourself in the open doorway with the cold breeze hitting your back. You were wearing a red cocktail dress and the highest black heels he’d ever seen, with your styled hair falling around your shoulders.

You were entirely too beautiful to be in this old sandwich shop, he thought. It had Priestly swallowing, frozen in time.

“Really? The sign says 10,” you pointed out. There was a level of desperation in your eyes. “Please, you’re the only place with the lights still on and I’ve been all up and down the block.”

Blinking out of his idiotic state, Priestly looked down at his watch again. It was exactly 9:59 p.m.

Well, damn. Got me on a technicality.

He held in a sigh.

“Okay, come on in,” he waved you over. Setting down his mop, he rounded the counter and went to man the register. He gave you a minute to peruse the menu. He noted that aside from your stunning attire, you had a cell phone in your hand that clearly couldn’t fit in that little purse hanging off your shoulder, bumping along your hip.

He couldn’t help but visually trace the curves of your hips and waist, back up to the sweetheart neckline of the dress, the deeper shade of your lipstick and up to your face.

But then he felt bad for staring, so he looked up heavenward before you caught him.

Meanwhile, your eyes drifted from the menu and dipped to his chest for a moment.

“Too bad I’m not gay,” you said.

What? Priestly frowned in confusion. But following your gaze, he realized you were staring at his yellow shirt, which read in big, 70s-style letters: Be Gay & Proud, Get a Free Drink.

His lips twitched at a grin, and he looked up at you. “D’you know what you want?”

You had a smile starting to play on your lips as well. You went back to considering your choices.

“Not sure, but I’m starving. What do you recommend?” you asked.

Priestly’s lips puckered as he considered the menu he knew by heart.

“Well, if you wanna go classic, I’d do a Spicy Italian on white bread. If you wanna be adventurous, we just added the Jalapeño Buffalo Chicken Club," he said. "But, if you wanna get crazy awesome, I can put on some Zeppelin and make you something special of my own design.”

He colored that last option with a gesture of his hand, a flourish, if you will. You tilted your head at him and smiled.

“Okay. Surprise me, Sandwich Man.”

Priestly snorted while he washed his hands again. “Sounds like the lamest superhero ever.”

“With his death-defying salami summoning powers,” you quipped, with a giggle that had him smiling as well.

“Nice alliteration,” he said. And he made a show of tying his apron back on. “Don’t worry, ma’am. Your late-night hoagie is safe with me.”

You tried to stifle another laugh while he worked his magic. From bread to meats and cheeses and toppings, Priestly was a master of his craft. He had that 12” hero wrapped and sliding across the counter towards you in record time.

“I call this the ‘Miracle,’” he winked. “You’ll see why. But that’ll be $10 even.”

You nodded and turned to the purse on your hip. You opened up the little velvety thing, but your face fell when all you found was your keys, not your credit card.

“No.” Your heart dropped into your stomach. You opened your purse wider and flipped through the satin insides, but you saw that it was empty. “You’ve gotta be shitting me. I know I had my wallet in here…”

And then it dawned on you.

“That fucking asshole,” you growled.

Priestly’s eyes widened. “Uh…”

Your head snapped up to his. “I had a different purse picked out for tonight. You know, one that actually had my wallet in it? But my know-it-all boyfriend had the nerve to say, ‘That one’s too shiny, looks kinda cheap. This is a restaurant at the Ritz-Carlton, not a hooker hangout.’ Can you believe that?”

Priestly blinked in confusion, but he realized that in your purse shuffling, you had no way to pay for this amazing sandwich he’d just concocted.

And now, you actually had the beginnings of frustrated tears in your eyes as you took in a shuddering breath.

“I’m so sorry,” you said. “I can’t—I can’t pay for this. I don’t have my wallet… Hold on, let me see if he’ll…”

You held up a finger and started dialing manically on your phone. You held it up to your ear and waited. Your tears sprang forth anew when the line just kept ringing until it sent you to voicemail.

“Figures,” you scoffed. “The one time I actually need this douchebag to answer, he ignores me!”

You slammed the phone down on the counter and covered your face with your hand as you sniffled. Priestly softened with sympathy. You seemed to be having a harder night than he thought.

He slid the sandwich your way, making you raise your head.

“It’s okay. This one’s on the house,” he said. “Looks like you could use a pick-me-up.”

Your watery eyes met his. “Really? You don’t have to…”

“No worries,” he replied, giving you a bit of charm in his grin. “I’ll even throw in a soda. Lady’s choice.”

Your lower lip trembled, but you were able to smile. With a quiet thank you, you wiped under your eyes carefully so your mascara wouldn’t run. Then you grabbed a Coke from the machine along with your sandwich from the counter.

“Do you mind if I eat here?” you asked, gesturing at one of the tables. “I promise I won’t leave a mess. I know you’re trying to close up.”

Priestly waved a dismissive hand. “Sure. Don’t worry about it.”

He went around the counter to take up his mop and continue where he left off in the cleaning process. But he couldn’t help but eye you every now and then. Curiosity was starting to eat him alive.

Had your boyfriend just dumped you here? Had you gone off alone? Somehow, he couldn’t see the first option happening. If you were his girlfriend, he would do his best not to let you walk away angry at him, let alone this late at night, without any money or even your ID.

“Are you coming from a party or something?” he found himself asking. You looked up from your second bite of the sandwich. You’d looked to have been truly enjoying it, uttering a moan that’d caught his attention.

“No,” you chuckled humorlessly around a mouthful of bread. “I was supposed to meet his parents. His rich, very bougie, hyper-critical parents. Somehow it didn’t occur to me that he was just like them.”

Priestly paused and leaned on his mop. He was hesitant, not wanting to disturb you while you were eating, but he was too damn hooked.

“So…what happened?” he asked. You scoffed and took another massive bite of your sandwich.

“Okay, you want to hear this? Fine,” you began. “So, I’m a stress eater by nature. Let’s just start with that.”

“Who isn’t?” Priestly supplied. Pursing your lips, you raised a black olive at him in a thank you gesture.

“But when I tell you I spent three months depriving myself to fit into this dress. No carbs, cheese, chocolate, or happiness.”

He grimaced. “That’s no way to live.”

“Exactly!” you concurred. “But I did all that so my boyfriend would have nothing to say when I finally met his parents for this dinner—to celebrate him graduating from med school.”

Priestly found himself dimming inside. Not only were you spoken for, but you were with a future doctor, no less. The only title Priestly had to his name was Sandwich Man.

“It started with the purse thing when he picked me up. Then when we get there, he keeps telling me how stuffy his dad is and how judge-y and critical his mom can be and how I’m a reflection on him,” you mocked in an impression of his voice.

“Then I find myself second-guessing every word that might come out of my mouth, and I’m too nervous to even eat the $60 plate of Chilean sea bass in front of me, and not to mention, there’s a glass of wine in my hand. I don’t even like wine!”

By now, it was all Priestly could do to keep up with your verbal spitfire. You were also gesticulating wildly with your sandwich the more worked up you got.

“I mean, I’m saying things I don’t say, and suddenly I realize that I’ve wrapped myself up in so many knots for this man, I don’t even recognize myself,” you confessed. Your eyes lit up with a gleam of clarity. Your hands lowered down to the table, and after a beat, you continued eating.

“But then my boyfriend of over a year turns to me and says, ‘Why are you being so weird and frigid?’” you said. You met Priestly’s eyes. “I just, I got so mad. I wanted to choke him out with my napkin, you know?”

He bit his lip to stifle a laugh.

“So instead of violence, I grabbed the glass of pinot noir, or chardon-perignon-whatever-the-fuck, and I poured it in his lap,” you concluded. “Then I walked out. And I ignored his calls. And I kept walking. Then a nice guy made me a sandwich.”

Priestly had to smile at that. He knew there was a Ritz-Carlton in the area, but that had to be almost a mile down the street. You’d walked a long way in those crazy-ass heels.

He propped his mop against a nearby table and sat down across from you. He shook his head in wonderment. And inside, your words kind of rattled him.

I’ve wrapped myself up in so many knots, I don’t even recognize myself.

“You know, sometimes I really, really wish I was gay,” you said, gesturing at his shirt.

“O-Oh…really?” he asked, raising his brows.

“Yeah, I do,” you answered. “I’m a quick study. I could learn to eat pussy.��

If he had been drinking something, he would’ve spat it out. He mentally fumbled for a moment before he could articulate a response.

“Well, I don’t doubt you, but it can be an acquired taste. Though I happen to like it,” he replied, grinning mostly to himself. He didn’t even think about how it might come out though.

As soon as he realized what he was saying to a perfect stranger, his eyes widened and met yours.

"Uh, sorry," he said.

But you just chortled in amusement. Your blush intensified though, along with your smile as you took a sip of your soda.

“You’re uh…you’re pretty awesome,” he said. And he meant that.

You blinked in surprise. Your lips twitched upwards, a blush rosy in your cheeks.

“Yeah?” you asked. His smile deepened.

“Yeah,” he replied. “And for the record, I know I just met you, but…I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Your face softened with a certain shyness, but you smiled at him through your lashes.

“Well, I appreciate that…” you trailed, realizing you didn’t yet know his name.

“Priestly,” he offered, along with his hand across the table. You slipped your smaller hand in his and gave him your name.

Though you quirked a brow at him. “Priestly? That’s your first name?”

Now it was his turn to get a little embarrassed.

“Uh, no,” he said, his gaze falling from yours. He scratched the back of his head, under the blue mohawk.

“Oh. What is it, then?” you asked.

“You don’t want to know,” he chuckled wryly.

“I think I do, or I wouldn’t be asking,” you countered. Your smile was playful though. Disarming, even.

“It’s um, it’s Boaz,” he admitted. You tilted your head, as if swirling the name around in your head. But you didn’t say it was weird, or stupid, or too biblical. You just smiled.

“Boaz Priestly. Interesting,” you nodded. Then you wrapped up your garbage, having eaten all of your sandwich. You made sure to collect every crumb, even though he’d told you not to worry about the mess. You got up to take it to the trashcan near the door.

“How’re you getting home?” he asked.

You bit your lip. The anxiety in your eyes told him you’d been pondering that same question. You let out a deep breath.

“I guess I’ll have to walk back to the hotel, try to get a ride from my b…my ex-boyfriend. Gotta get used to saying that,” you said. “I promise I’ll pay you back for the sandwich.”

“Didn’t I tell you it was on me? Don’t worry about that,” said Priestly. “But I’ll tell you what, let me give you a ride.”

You shook your head. “Oh, thank you, but we just met, and I—”

Just then, Priestly realized how his offer sounded. He didn’t want to creep you out.

“Ah, or I can get you a cab,” he said. “I doubt you want to see that guy again tonight, do you?”

You bit your lip, smudging some of the scarlet red lipstick there. It distracted him for a moment, but he returned his gaze to your eyes.

You sighed. As much as you didn’t want to impose again, you let Priestly call you a cab. He paid for it in advance after you gave the cabbie your address. Before you got in the car, you turned to Priestly and touched his arm.

“Thank you,” you said. “I promise, I’ll come tomorrow and pay you back.”

He smiled. “You can try.”

He earned your sweet smile back, and he watched you get into the cab. He tried not to raise his hopes up, but he really did hope he’d see you tomorrow.

And yet, he should’ve known it was too good to be true.

“Maybe she got caught up at work or something,” Jen tried to console him the next day at closing, after you didn’t show up.

“It’s Sunday,” he pointed out grumpily. He continued to wipe down Table 4 of some nasty residue of mayo and pickled radish.

“You don’t know what kind of job she has,” Piper interjected. She was making a tuna salad sub on wheat for the last customer, which she then passed on to Tish at the register. “Maybe she’s in retail, or she’s in the restaurant business too—or hey, a lifeguard! This is a beach town after all.”

“Or maybe, she just played you into getting free food and a ride home,” Tish suggested, with her usual brand of cutting sarcasm. It just tended to cut a bit deeper these days, whenever it was leveled at Priestly.

The post-breakup thing had been tense and awkward for everyone, and it still hadn’t normalized just yet in their little sandwich-making ecosystem. Jen shot her friend a look though, one that told her she was being bitchy.

The problem was, she’d only voiced what Priestly was thinking anyway, deep down.

“Amazing, serendipitous things don’t happen to me, Piper,” he said. “Not anymore.”

He continued cleaning.

Three weeks later, it happened on a Friday afternoon.

It was one of their busiest times of the week. Tish was at the register as usual, Jen was sorting through the inventory and bussing tables, and Priestly was making hero after hero like a fiend, alongside Piper. He was definitely living up to his name of Sandwich Man.

He was still able to recognize your voice near the register.

“One 12” Miracle, please,” you requested.

“Um…we don’t have that on the menu,” Tish replied. But Priestly looked over with a grin. He met your gaze, and found you smiling back at him.

Tish followed the exchange with suspicion.

“One Miracle, coming up!” Priestly called out.

He had the order ready within minutes, but he was painstaking about it, not an olive out of place. He wrapped it up nicely and walked it over to the register himself, placing it in front of you on the counter.

“Well, hi there,” he greeted.

A familiar blush spread across your face, just as endearing as he remembered. The only thing different about you so far was your clothes. No longer dressed to the nines, you were more casual in your jeans, ankle boots, and V-necked top.

In every other way, you were the same. It might’ve been making his heart trip up.

“Hi,” you said. “Got a minute, Miracle Man?”

Priestly ducked his head, hiding a more bashful smile. Before he could respond, Tish interrupted, “That’ll be $10.”

You nodded and handed her a $50 bill. She looked at you in confusion.

“The rest is a tip, for the hero makers,” you explained, glancing at both Priestly and Piper. He gave you an incredulous smile.

You little minx, he thought. He couldn’t say no if you were tipping Piper too.

But he did ask Jen to help fill in for him while he made his way around the counter to go to you. Tish just watched the scene unfold with a silent frown, like she was trying to make sense of what was happening. She always thought she’d be the first one to move on.

“Let’s talk outside. Little more privacy from the peanut gallery,” Priestly said to you, tossing a knowing glance over his shoulder. You spotted all the employees now watching you and Priestly closely.

You became a touch more shy as he led you out of the shop with a hand resting on the small of your back. You slipped your sandwich into a larger purse than last time. Then you looked up at him with apologetic eyes.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to come back here,” you said. “It got a bit…ugly, after that night.”

Priestly’s brows furrowed in concern. “Ugly?”

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” you assured him. “Lots of shouting and empty threats, then half-assed apologies. But I’m done with all that.”

Priestly considered that with a nod. “Well, good. I’m glad to hear you’re doing better.”

You stared up at his face, and you thought he really seemed to mean that. You knew you shouldn’t be feeling that familiar flutter in your stomach, not three weeks after breaking up from a year-long relationship. Even so, the night you walked out of this shop, you felt free. Like you could breathe again.

You felt like you.

So now, you leaned up and kissed Priestly on the cheek.

His eyes widened a fraction as he stared down at you. You smiled and grasped his hand.

“Would you maybe want to…ask me out sometime?” you asked. A nervous giggle escaped you, making him smile.

“Y-Yeah, I would. If you’re sure you want me to,” he replied. In the past, maybe he would’ve let his excitement get the best of him. He’d be trying to jump at this chance. Experience had taught him not to hope too hard though. Sometimes, getting what you wished for backfired in your face.

You squeezed his hand, earning his attention.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you asked. Your smile became teasing before you used his words against him. “From what I’ve seen so far, you’re pretty awesome. But mostly pretty.”

He had to laugh at that. Pretty was not something he’d ever been called in life. Weird, freak, try-hard goth—that was all familiar territory. His tattoos and piercings tended to bring that out in people.

But he gathered some courage and squeezed your hand back.

“Well, you’re beautiful,” he said, thumbing at your chin. His eyes met yours and got lost there for a moment. “Uh, really beautiful.”

You blushed further and bit your lower lip out of habit. It drew his gaze, and he gained a little more courage. He tilted your chin upwards, so he could find those lips easier in a kiss. Your fingers curled in the front of his shirt and brought him closer. His hand found your cheek as he angled deeper into the kiss.

Despite the chill on the air, the California sun was warm and beating down on you both.

It was the perfect day for a Miracle.

AN: How I love Priestly lol. If you liked this, let me know! 💜

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#The Miracle Man #Code Red Prequel #10 Inch Hero #Boaz Priestly #Boaz Priestly x reader #Boaz Priestly x female reader #Boaz Priestly x you #jensen ackles characters #jensen ackles #Priestly x reader #Priestly x you #Priestly #Priestly x female reader #zepskies writes

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cartoon-cass · 6 months

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Comprehensive breakdown of MURDER DRONES - Episode 7: Mass Destruction

I saw a breakdown of this episode on youtube and it was just clearly rushed so I want to do this episode justice so here's my comprehensive breakdown.

New intro, look at them! They look so happy, that is not the case in the episode, to say the least. With how much rubber hosing this animation has I would not be surprised if this was done by Kevin Temmer Tunes with what he learned from amazing digital circus Edit: N was animated by Micah Preciado and Uzi by Zachary Preciado

Bad day to accidentally grab the wrong uniform, I do wonder where the actual Dr.Chambers was in all this. Wonder if it would have made a difference... probably not.

Not actually important but having the shadows of the claws that aren't actually there be the thing to interact with the world is fucking cool as hell. This whole scene is a cool twist on an exorcism with robots and science.

Like look at this, it's a pentagram magnet, a normal pentagram from my basic pop culture understanding it's meant to not only summon a demon but also keep them from leaving the circle. A strong magnet is so smart for this case as it's used to keep Nori in place, I mean it doesn't end up working in the end but it's the thought that counts.

It took my second watch of this episode to realize why the lights got turned on, it revealed the tentacles and claws but it's sun light, the same stuff that burns the Disassembly Drones and Uzi. It even has the same effect as in the end of Episode 4

Can I just say how extra it is making the USB a crucifix, I love it. Also I just notice that on the end of the crucifix the detailing is actually in the shape of a USB symbol, the details in this show is amazing, you can see all the love that went in to it.

This is probably the most terrifying way to hold these robots. I couldn't blame any of the robots for wanting to kill the human good god. Also Yeva playing Tetris, the game has a lot of ties to Russia so wonder if she spoke Russian too, she doesn't speak in this episode and not sure if we'll get more flashback with her so not sure if we will ever find out.

Not sure why Mitchell stop Yeva from entering the church but I like to think he thought Yeva was like a kid, look at him holding her hand in the scene before, and was trying to keep her save and knew something was off. That being said I'd love to hear what you think is his reasoning, sound off in the comments/reblogs.

Pulling back we can see Nori, specifically her core, looking at a crucifix comparing it to the USB crucifix in the video to see if it's the one with the patch, it's not, so she goes out for the hunt to see if she can find it.

Like daughter, like mother, honestly cool little details that lets us know what kind of character Nori is with the very little time we have with her. Drawing made presumably by her of herself as a human cat girl, twice, motor oil cans everywhere, a fricking ninja star, nightcore music, a anime statue that might be a reference to something but I have no clue, also magnets which have been used in the passed like drugs so that's um... something.

was originally just going to point out the funny little animation errors in this scene, as the paper goes through the Ipod and the crinkled paper is mirrored but then I wanted to check what was on the paper and...

It's a missing poster of all things? it uses the exact posters used in episode 3 it's probably just reusing assets but I thought it was a cool thing to point out.

Uzi bleeds blood in these scenes and it's not necessarily mentioned out loud, clearly something AS related, but there might be more to it, or it just looks cool.

This man is in some serious denial, but credit where credit is due, when "Tessa" tells N to stop he turns around, and when Uzi apologized for not being able to help he immediately apologized for Snapping at her. Also look at Tessa's little pointing, thought it was funny.

N: "We're not going to hurt you."

I can't blame Uzi for taking this the wrong way, he's clearly telling Tessa off but all Uzi hears is "hurt you", hence why she only parrots that part.

Thad: "Aaand you won't tell me why we're wandering around 'cause...?" Lizzy: "I'm a good friend, and secrets are blackmail. And it's not about football." Thad: "Okay. Does your secret friend want to know about football, or...?"

Anyone else wondering who Lizzy's good friend is? The only 2 characters we know are good friends with Lizzy are Doll and V. It's possible that through everything Doll sent a text to Lizzy asking her to do something but I feel like V just makes more sense. This does assume V made her way away from the sentinels, if I had to guess she's just a core at the moment which might be why she couldn't do it herself, no wings nor weapons as a core, also makes the blackmail line make more sense.

N: "I deserve this. I deserve this. I deserve this."

Baby girl NO! no you don't, your too hard on your self

That scream. That cut. *chef's kiss* perfect.

This scene just shows us why Uzi went towards the church. Also note when she's the most stressed her eye turns yellow so it does seem stress is the deciding factor whether she can be possessed.

V/AS: You know, you're one of the main reasons... [voice glitching] ...I wanted your team to retain your personalities.

This quote I think has some interesting implications, I mean it obviously confirms that the DD squad was influence by AS but it might also be why it keeps a bit of the personality of which ever host it's using.

This scene holy shit, the music, the lighting, the sound design and animation, that's how you do horror! You don't even need detailed gore, in fact most of it is just off screen. like look at the DD's off in the distance one catches the pilot of the helicopter mid air then they fight over it like hungry animals.

Ok so I hit the image limit and it's almost 1 in the morning so I'm gonna go to bed and continue this tomorrow

~to be continued~

#murder drones #serial designation n #uzi doorman #nori doorman #Yeva #tessa james elliot #I'm just going to tag her to make it easier #Murder drone theory

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god-has-entered-my-body · 6 months

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What time you coming out? - M.H x Reader // pt.1

A/N: Lenas writer debut??? Omg??? This has a bunch of references to fics like the cellophane house (written by the lovely @vinylandcoffeecollection, srsly check out their work!). It's a bit angsty? Not really but angst will come this is a chaptered fic. Based off fallingforyou, hence the title. Thank you @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff for beta reading and putting up with me xx

wc: 11k

part two

February, 2008

“I'm not sure we should be doing this, neither of us is a professional hairdresser in any capacity”

Mötley Crüe’s ‘Public Enemy #1’ blares through the small speaker set on top of the toilet lid, the music reverberating off the bathroom's tiled walls. Matty attempts to brush the bleach onto your hair, narrowly missing your eyebrow for what felt like the sixth time. You'd prefer to not come out of this situation looking like 90s madonna if you could help it.

“Could you maybe not get the stuff on my face? I'm not sure I'd look as amazing as I do with bleached brows,” you say, flicking Mattys hand away from your hair, straightening your posture on top of the sink. Your elbow accidently knocks into the faucet and you curse out loud.

“You're right love, you'd look well hideous without brows” Matty retorts, laughing in your face. He's right, doesn't mean he has to say it.

“At least I have any sort of eyebrows, I'd get yours filled in if I was you.” Now it's your turn to laugh at him, his jaw hitting the floor at your comment. He clutches his chest with his hand, bending over for dramatic effect as if to say: “You wound me”. You fall into each other's arms, fighting over the ipod once again.

The song changes, and Matty resumes his attempts at bleaching your hair properly, failing once again. It had been a stupid, stoned impulse decision to buy the bleach at all. The local drugstore sold it for cheap, and you had some pocket change on you. Matty wanted you to buy the red dye, and you dismissed him immediately, because even he knew you'd look absolutely terrible as a redhead.

You hum along softly to David Bowie's “Suffragette City”. Bowie was your Idol. The song reminds you of him. Of Matty. It reminds you of when you first met.

—------------------------------------------------------

You were 15, pacing the street late at night, your boyfriend was blowing up your phone. Insincere apologies and “i love you”’s filled your screen. 4 missed calls. Tears were streaming down your face, making you not quite able to see straight.

The song playing, was blaring in your headphones, almost deafening. The song didn't fit at all to your current situation, but that didn't bother you.

It wasn't long before you reached a bus stop, sitting down. You didn't even know where you were.

Suddenly, like it was out of your control, you let out broken sobs, no longer silently crying. How fucking embarrassing.

You're not sure how long you’d been sitting there, in the dark, shivering in the cruel November weather.

You hadn't even noticed the person walking up to you.

He’d positioned himself in front of you, twisting his neck to get a look underneath your hood.

“You alright?” his voice sounded soft, concerned even. Through muffled sobs, you managed to look up at him.

He had a thick, fluffy jacket on. Oddly feminine for bloke, and you were pretty sure it was a women's coat. It basically swallowed him whole. You almost laughed at the sight. It almost made you forget about the night's events.

You’d had yet another fight with your boyfriend, Phillip. The two of you fought a lot, but never like this. Sure, he’d said some hurtful things, things you maybe shouldn't have forgiven as quickly as you did, but he had never, ever, gotten violent with you. Until tonight.

You'd barely registered it when it happened, your brain not properly processing his actions. In the midst of his screaming, he raised his hand. Raised. his. hand.

It came down with a crash against your left cheek, the sound echoing through the house. Because he did, in fact, have his own flat. Because 24 year olds usually have that.

Everything hit you at once. You'd managed to pick yourself up off the ground at a speed which would have given even world record holders a run for their money. You didn't bother grabbing anything else, you just needed to get out, now.

You could faintly hear his voice calling out from behind you, begging you to please, please come back. And what? Let him put his hands on you again? No way. A rare moment of clarity.

Fucking cunt

You’re brought back to reality by the sound of the stranger's voice.

“I’m Matty.” he offered his hand, and you shook it. “What're you doing out here in the cold? Its fuckin’ freezing.” He's right, it was cold. It hadn't occurred to you to take your coat with you.

You stuttered out a pathetic response of your name, barely making eye contact with him. A few beats pass before Matty starts ruffling around in his coat pockets. Raising your eyebrows, you watch him.

You can hear the faint sound of keys in his right pocket, and it's not long before he pulls out a joint from his left. It looks crumpled and old, like it had been there for a while.

“Spliff? It looks like you need it more than me.” He chuckles, and it somehow makes you feel better. He makes a move to sit next to you, and you twitch slightly when his shoulder touches yours. The bench is quite narrow, so you know it's not on purpose. It doesn't bother you quite as much as it should, given he is a stranger.

He takes out his lighter. It looks old and used, the black plastic chipping off around the top. It looks like it's a miracle it even works. You can see white writing along the side of it. M.H. Initials? His initials? Matty H something.

He starts burning the tip. Rotating the joint to get an even burn, you watch his movements closely, taking in some of his features.

His hair was curly but frizzy, you could tell he didn't pay it much mind. His features seemed soft, almost feminine. He was clean shaven, his pale skin a stark contrast to the dark brown of his hair.

Matty lets you take the first drag, stating “The first hit’s the best, and I've always been a gentleman”, flashing a grin your way. That made you laugh. You take a drag, letting the warm feeling spread through your body.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked timidly, his voice lowering.

“Absolutely not.” You mutter, looking him straight in the eyes for what seems like the first time that night. A smile.

—-------------------------------------------------------

“D’you think I'd look good as a blonde? I feel like I'd smash it,” Matty says, inspecting his hair in the mirror behind you. He has gorgeous locks, and you're constantly telling him to try and take care of them, he just doesn't listen. You study his features before giving him an answer.

“Maybe. Either that or you'd look like a bad hooker,” Matty gasps, shoving your shoulder in protest. The movement makes your elbow bang against the faucet again, but you ignore the pain this time

“I'll let you know i'd make an amazing hooker, thanks very much,” He proclaims quite loudly, making the both of you burst into a laughing fit.

You take the brush from Matty, twirling in your hand. George had taught you how to do that. An idea pops into your head.

“We could give you a few blonde highlights, just to try it out. There's no need for you to go full Elle Woods immediately” A giggle escapes your lips, picturing Matty with long, blonde hair. That’d be a sight.

“Let's do it, right now,” he breathes, visibly excited.

“Really? Adam’d take the absolute piss out of you, you know.” Matty rolls his eyes obnoxiously before he speaks. “Well then let Adam hold on to his toxic ideas of masculinity, I need a change.” This piques your interest. Matty? Need a change? Weird.

“What, did some bird break your heart this time? That's new, even for you Matthew,”

You can see him visibly cringe at your use of his full name. You know he hates it, and that is exactly why you do it. Getting a rise out of him is your favorite pastime.

“Switch with me then,” you say, and he obliges, letting you hop off the counter. You mix up a new batch of bleach and part off his hair into small sections. Little pink hair bands hold his curls in place. You shoot him a look and he nods, giving you the go-ahead. The bleach goes on smoothly, your practiced hand much less prone to mistakes than Mattys.

It doesn't take long before you're both sitting on your bed with foils in your hair. You manage to snap a picture of Matty on your polaroid camera. The light reflects off the foils, distorting the picture slightly. Matty demands to see it, but you decide to keep it for yourself. Can't get everything you want.

It's Mattys' turn on the music.

You've decided on a turn system for music when you're together, to avoid the gnarly fights you used to have over who gets to control the ipod.

He picks the latest Deftones album. It's not really your taste, and you tell him as much.

“S’not my fault your music taste consists of pop trash. Get well soon”, now it's your turn to shove him, and he almost falls off the bed. Your fights over music happened frequently. He insisted on listening to real music, while you couldn't care less if it sounded good.

The timer dings and you both get up to wash your hair in the sink. Water splashes everywhere, absolutely soaking the bathroom. You don't care. It's just water.

Towels litter the bathroom floor, soaking up the mess. Matty helps you dry your hair after you promise to help with his. The warm air feels nice on your neck.

“I like it, it makes me look camp,” Matty states, admiring himself in the mirror. Of course he'd say something like that.

“You look great, now get dressed, I've messaged Hann. He's picking us up at half 11”

Adam was one of your best mates, and the only one who had a car. You and Matty were still in school, along with George, another one of your friends. Adam and Ross shared a flat on the outskirts of the city. Adam's mother had gifted him a car for his 18th birthday last year. A bright red Kia. Bumper stickers littered the back, your favorite reading ‘Vehicle of legends”

Matty had borrowed one of your tops, specifically, a mesh top you'd gotten from Hollister a few weeks prior. It was adorned with a black tank top underneath, paired with the black skinny jeans you're convinced have fused with his legs at this point.

His hair had dried, dark curls now in contrast with blonde streaks. They framed his face. He looked good.

You’d gone for a more colorful ensemble, opting for baggy jeans instead of skinny ones. The bottom had already been well ripped up from years of dragging them on the ground. You paired said jeans with a wine-red off the shoulder jumper, the black strap of your bralette peaking out. You’d always loved that color. It reminded you of your favorite flowers, red roses.

The window closed softly, and you silently thanked God you lived on the first floor. Adam was already parked down the road from your house, impatiently waiting for the two of you. The radio was playing as you got in. Matty immediately started going on about how pop music has ruined the music scene and how it was all 'soulless, meaningless droning' and 'had no feeling anymore'. He always did this, and you'd learned to tune it out by then.

The drive was short, and you arrived at your destination not long after you’d set off. The air smelled like water and wet pavement. It had been pissing down earlier in the day.

‘The spot’ was an abandoned paper factory, affectionately renamed “Caroline's house” for any eavesdropping parents.

Carolines had been abandoned for well over 5 years before you started hanging out there, not many knew about it.

The three of you had already made your way through the back entrance. The front had been blocked off years ago, a futile attempt at keeping kids out. There was one specific room you always went to, and that was the office. It had a huge terrace with an amazing view of the city below. The glowing lights made you feel small and irrelevant in the vastness of the world.

The night was bright under the full moon, making it easy to see outside. Adam always brought an emergency flashlight with him when you went to Carolines. He was the voice of reason in the midst of the chaos. The responsible one. He always made sure everyone got home safe, talked your way out of situations with coppers on multiple occasions, and knew when to tell the bartender to switch drinks to water or juice. You’d always thank him the morning after.

“What even is your shirt, mate,” Adam asked with a grin on his face. He loved to take the piss out of Matty for his camp-ness. No harm no foul, Matty would do the exact same to him when the opportunity presented itself. Eyeing him up and down, he shook his head and went back to picking at his nails.

“She let me borrow it for tonight. Looks good, yeah?” Matty shoots back.

“Yeah sure, that and those white streaks in your hair make you look like a proper girl, you know”

You have to laugh at his statement, because it does ring true. From a certain distance, anyone could mistake Matty for a woman.

“You wish I was a girl, it’d make you feel less guilty about your sex fantasies, innit?” Matty cackles at his own words. Adam chucks a lighter at him, and misses. It instead bounces off the railing of the terrace and clatters down onto the ground somewhere behind you.

That was your cue to take out the small baggy from the pocket of your jeans. Going to look for the lighter Adam had just thrown, you turn around to see he’d already snatched your papes and weed, and started to roll a spliff.

“Oh come on, I look away for a second and you steal my weed. What, are you too broke to buy your own?” You huffed, sitting down on the floor next to him.

“Girls don't roll their own spliffs. You should know that by now, love” he said with a wink.

Cue eye roll.

“Oh thank you so much, what would I ever do without you, Hann? Fuck off.” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. This was never a display of chivalry, it was simply Adams' way of trying to get under your skin. Your stubborn self wouldn't let him, of course. Flashing him an award winning smile, you lay back on your elbows and eye him as he rolls your joint for you.

Matty was preoccupied with gathering enough cardboard so he could sit on the floor comfortably. The three of you couldn't be arsed bringing in furniture from the office, so you were left with the cold, unforgiving concrete floor of the terrace to sit on.

The minutes ticked by and Adam took his sweet time, presenting the spliff with a look of pride. You reach for it, seeing as you already had the lighter in your hand. Instead of handing it to you. Adam shakes his head.

“Girls dont light their own spliffs, either” You scoff at that, though deciding against smacking him upside the head. You hand him the lighter.

Mattys giggles can be faintly heard over your bickering, and Adam finally lights up. The distinct earthy smell fills up the air around you. They both let you have the first drag, stating something along the lines of “Ladies first” another eye roll.

“Fucking wankers”, you mutter under your breath, and finally, you inhale. It hits you almost immediately, a soft, fuzzy feeling that reverberates through your veins into every inch of your body. The two of them let out a laugh at your expression, utterly euphoric.

Adam takes the next drag, hitting him just as hard as it did you. He leans against the glass sliding door, letting his eyes droop closed.

“Fucking hell, this is some strong weed.” He lets out a rough cough, “Where’d you even get it from?”

“Oh y’know, just some guy. Same as always I s’pose,”

Matty spoke “What, d’you shag him or something? No one just gives out this type of premium stuff on a whim,”

This makes you chuck the grinder at him. It hits him square in the chest. You hum contentedly, grinning at him in amusement when he doubles over in pain. You bicker back and forth, calling each other names. Adam passes the spliff back to you, and you take another hit.

Time passes slowly. The clouds slowly reveal more and more of the full moon. It is quite beautiful tonight, you notice.

Adam produces a bottle of tequila from his ‘gay-ass tote bag’ as Ross calls it. You take turns taking swigs straight from the bottle, Matty managing to spill some onto his mesh top, making quite literally everything reek of alcohol.

You felt good. The high mixed with the healthy amount of tequila made you feel like you were floating. You could tell Matty was just as hammered as you, seeing as he was now straddling Adams lap, trying to kiss him.

After multiple attempts at getting him off, Matty stood up on his own, stating that he didn't want Hann to pop a boner au cause de his womanly features.

The three of you laugh and laugh until you finish the spliff. You’d never had a good tolerance for anything, whether it be weed or alcohol. You weren't particularly small, it just always hit you way harder than Adam or Ross. Even Matty managed to pull himself together when the situation called for it. You, however, were stumbling and tripping over your feet the entire walk home. It had been pissing down the entire morning. Puddles littered the streets, not an ideal weather for someone who was too wasted to even have any sort of depth perception.

Adam had to leave suddenly, picking up a last minute shift at the shop he worked at. It was in the opposite direction of where you came from, leaving you and Matty to walk home.

It wasn't a long walk, 30 odd minutes or so. It was made significantly longer by your inability to walk in a straight line to save your life. Echoing laughs filled the streets as Matty helped you trudge along. Your pants dragged on the floor as usual, which meant they were also dragging through the numerous puddles, soaking them.

You stop suddenly, looking down and pouting at the darkened material of your pants. For some inexplicable reason, this made you stomp your feet like a child. Matty broke out in uncontrollable laughter, tears forming in his eyes. You were actually acting like a child.

“I don't know why you insist on wearing those insanely baggy pants. Look at me! My pants don't get wet AND my ass looks phenomenal in skinny jeans” He twirls around you, making you feel slightly dizzy.

“Oh fuck off!! Not everyone is an attention slag like you, have some decency for once in your life!” You retort, shoving him out of your line of sight. Due to your state, Matty quickly catches up to you.

The steps of your house come quicker than expected. Both of you make your way to the east side of the first floor, where your bedroom window remains slightly ajar. You'd wedged an old shirt between it to keep it from closing all the way. You'd gotten sneaking out down to an art, always knowing when, where and how. Your mother had caught you once. It was your first time. You knew not to make those same mistakes again.

Matty helped you hop onto the windows ledge, his hands grabbing at your sides. While he looked frail, Matty was actually quite strong, lifting you up without breaking a sweat.

You're sitting on the edge, slightly taller than him now. Peering down, you reach your arms out. The two of you hugged tightly, whispering quiet “goodnight”s and “sleep well”s. Saying goodbye after a night out often felt strangely melancholic, you never wanted the other to leave.

You've been attached at the hip since that night. He’d convinced you to break up with Phillip, stating he was a bastard who shouldn't be allowed near women ever again.

Matty went on to introduce you to his mates after you’d found out you went to the same highschool. That was nearly 3 years ago now.

Late nights often make you wonder what would have happened if you hadn't gone to that specific bus stop and met Matty. If he had ignored your crying instead of offering you weed and sitting down next to you. He’d always been charming, like a magnet, he attracted everyone around him. Sure, he was a bit pretentious at times, but everyone has their faults.

You roll over and try to sleep, slowly coming down from your high. You made a mental note to take it easy next time, maybe pace yourself. It was hard to know your limits when it came to substances, and Matty was the same way. Adam was the ever responsible one, never too drunk or high, always the parent. You were grateful for him, knowing what situations you'd be stuck in if Adam had not been there to smooth things over.

The tiredness hits you in waves. Glancing at the clock left of your desk, it read 3:26 am. Fuck. You try to ignore the fact that you had to be up in about 4 hours. You close your eyes, welcoming the rest.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

A harsh knocking sounded from the direction of your window, scaring the shit out of you. You bolt up, pissed at the disturbance. Turning to face the window, and are met with a familiar grin. Matty.

It takes all of 5 seconds of him being in your room before you start cursing at him for waking you up like that. He simply shrugs his shoulders and sits in his designated chair. A maroon sofa chair in the corner in front of your bed. It even has M.H carved into the wood, because Matty had some sort of fetish for carving his initials into things. A sign of ownership? It made you wonder.

Shuffling around the room, you kick your still wet jeans off into the corner, instead picking up a denim skirt. You’d wanted to wear that same red top to school, but seeing as you had fallen asleep wearing it, you chucked it into the same corner as the pants.

A pink baby tee caught your eye from the chair Matty was sitting in. You silently point at it and he passes it to you. This isn't the first time you've changed in front of him. It didn't happen often, but what was the point of kicking him out? It's not like he was actively staring anyway.

After quickly changing, you go to put on some makeup. Makeup made you feel pretty, pretty enough to go outside. The only person who sees your bare face regularly is Matty. Maybe George. You didn't go anywhere without it.

You can feel Matty looking at you from the corner of your eye. Raising your eyebrows at him, you ask him what he's staring at.

“D’you reckon i can try some of that?” he gestures vaguely at the eyeshadow brush in your hand “I think i’d look class with my new highlights.” he twirls his hair around his finger, giving you a look.

You look at him skeptically, before breaking out into a smile. Matty smiles back. It's not long before he’s sat in front of you, wincing whenever the brush makes contact with his eyelid. You tell him hes just not used to it, and to just stay still, for fucks sake.

Once you're done, you take a step back to admire your work. You have to admit, he looks good. Really good. His eyes were lined with a dark purple shadow, making them appear slightly bigger. He takes his fingers, slightly smudging the out corners, giving him a catty look.

“I think you might even look even better than me,” you say, looking him up and down. This is one of those rare moments where you can't read Mattys' expression at all. Finally, he opens his mouth

“No one could look better than you, trust me,”

A beat of silence before he speaks again

“I do look ravishing though, d’you reckon Adam'll like this more than the highlights?” He always manages to make himself laugh. Then in typical Matty fashion, he pulls out a beat up looking joint from the pocket of his too tight jeans.

“Fancy a spliff?”

“Matty, for christ's sake, we have school in about an hour, and you want to smoke now?”

“It's the only true way to get through Mr. Henderson's maths class, you know it'll be unbearable if we don't.” translation: please smoke with me. He gives you a look, because you know he's right.

It was too late to protest. He’d already made his way to open your window, knowing how much you hate stinking up your room.

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips, and you find your place next to him.

The wind and rain had calmed down, so Matty had no difficulty lighting it. The smell filled your senses, almost overwhelming you. You were thankful for the fresh air.

He placed the spliff between your lips, watching you intently as you inhaled. Your orange lip gloss had rubbed off the filter, and transferred onto his lips. The weed wasnt as strong as last nights, but still, the sight of Mattys glossed lips made you break out into a fit of giggles. Time seemed irrelevant up until the point you had to run to catch your bus. Sweaty and out of breath, you sat down in your usual spot.

You can hear comments and insults being thrown at Matty from the back of the bus, but neither of you paid much mind. Matty was high as a kite, and too loopy (hungover) from the previous night to offer up one of his witty retorts. Instead, both of you gave them the bird from over the seat.

Matty was leaning against you, his arms hooked into yours. Neither of you spoke, listening to the soft rumbling of the bus. You stank of weed, anyone could smell it on you. Remembering a perfume bottle in your handbag, you take it out and douse yourself, as well as Matty in it.

“Oh for fucks sake, now everything smells like Jimmy Choo Illicit!” Matty whined, burying his head in his hands. “Couldn't you have picked a manlier perfume? I'm already walking a very thin line with all of this” He vaguely gestures to himself.

“Would you rather get kicked out after coming to school smelling like a fucking dispensary? Think ahead, Matthew!” He cringes visibly

“No need to get out the full government name, jesus” he shuffles up against you, and you can see his eyes are a light shade of red. There's no way the two of you would get through first lesson unnoticed.

George was already waiting for you guys at your stop. Greeting him with a hug, you try to avoid eye contact, yet somehow, he knows.

“Hey, you alright-?” He cranes his neck to get a better look at your face

“Are you–? Are you high??” He laughs out loud, smacking your arm to stabilize himself. You shoot him a death stare, but you can feel a laugh coming too. Matty let out a sarcastic haha before kicking George as a way to say get on with it, we have class.

The walk to the room through the sea of people in the halls feels like a claustrophobic hell. B.O ridden teenagers rub up against the three of you, some even (quite violently) shoving past.

It's a miracle you make it without Matty losing his mind at one of the hecklers. School was actual hell for Matty, and by proxy, you. Insults were thrown at him without a second thought, and the makeup he’d adorned today surely didn't help the comments.

He never let it truly get to him. He didn't care, and that's what you loved so much about him. This part of the city was set back about fifteen years in terms of acceptance and progressivity, so his flowery backpack and femininity wasn't exactly welcomed.

Adam had always taken the piss out of him for his outfits since they were boys, but he never, ever meant it seriously. They were like brothers, those two, and no amount of shit from other people (irrelevants, as Matty would put it) would be able to break them apart.

The way the room was set up, there were six tables of four, with two people always facing another two. You had sat in the seat next to George, with Matty sitting (well, more like laying) across the other two chairs opposite you. Mr. Henderson had given up on trying to get Matty to sit right a long time ago, instead just flat out ignoring him. It was always easier to fail than to teach.

“Fucking poofter, that one,” you can hear someone saying from behind you. You know they mean Matty.

Matty blows them both a kiss before getting flipped off by the shorter one. He loved taking the piss out of the people who insulted him, throwing them off.

George questions mattys makeup, and you tell him it was his idea. George had always supported Matty, using his insanely tall stature to fend off anyone giving him a hard time.

The lesson was going by at a snail's pace, with Matty being his usual self, interrupting at every possible moment. It was so obvious he was off his tits, and Mr. Henderson looked suspicious. A particularly loud laugh from George had prompted him to throw you all out. You couldn't care less, getting up immediately.

Matty picked up his things from the floor, making a show out of bending over in front of the two boys that had insulted him earlier. They both scrunch their faces in disgust, muttering under their breaths. A giggle escapes you as they stare daggers.

“Fucking cunt,” one of them says, and now it’s your turn to blow them a kiss.

The three of you trudge down the halls, slowly but surely coming down from your highs. George suggests going to Ross and Adams flat, seeing as it's just a few bus stops away from the school. They share a flat above a Sainsburys, which is optimal for late night munchies. Adam even works there, so there's always opportunities to sneak a packet of crisps or a can of cola.

The bus stinks of sweat and mildew, as did all buses in britain. You get used to the stench after a while, your legs propped up onto George and Mattys laps. The back seat was always your favorite, giving you ample space to stretch a bit. You and George share headphones while Matty takes a quick power nap. He always lets you pick the music, and today it was Radioheads ‘No Surprises’. The music plays softly as buildings and trees pass by the window. The day was quite sunny, the light reflecting off of the windows of houses and offices. You'd sobered up enough to be able to think clearly by now.

These days were the best. They felt calm, like you could forget every other fucked up thing in your life. Your mother, your coursework. Nothing else existed in your little bubble except the people you were with. It felt peaceful, like a breath of fresh air.

Matty stirred awake as the bus halted to a stop, yawning for dramatic effect. He loved to exaggerate, ever the performer. George was the quiet, brooding type, trying desperately to go unnoticed, which proved rather difficult. Although he was barely coming up on his 18th birthday, he had grown to a staggering 6 '4, with a voice at least 3 or so octaves deeper than Mattys.

It had proven useful, you aways had someone to send into the smoke shop to buy fags or liquor, even if it always took a pep talk to even get him through the front door. George was convinced he didn't look older, even though he had never been carded. Ever.

Usually it was Adam who bought it for you, even though both Matty and Ross were also already 18. Matty had already been banned from most liquor stores in the area, so he proved rather useless in situations needing a bit of booze.

Mattys violent knocks against the flat door brought you back to reality

“C’MON OPEN UP ITS US,” his voice booms through the hallway. You can hear banging and shuffling coming from the other side of the door. It's so obviously Ross bumping into every available surface because he hadn't turned on the light yet. He was an avid day sleeper, mostly working night shifts. A particularly loud crash is followed by glass breaking.

Matty taps his foot impatiently, waiting for the door to finally open. Ross emerges, looking disgruntled and tired of Mattys shit.

“Mate, tell me, what possessed you to come knocking about at this hour, don't you have school-? I swear you're going to be the end of me one day” he rubs his eyes, getting the sleep out of them before moving out of the way to let the three of you in.

“First of all, it's like 11am, so not exactly the ungodly hour you were describing,” Matty starts “Second of all, we’ve been kicked out of class, so where better to come than here?”

The inside of the flat reeks of cigarettes and laundry detergent. Ross refuses to smoke on the terrace, deeming it too cold even in the middle of summer. Adam always smokes on the terrace, scared of staining the walls like in those addiction documentaries. A futile attempt, but at least he tries. Matty immediately lights a fag, sighing happily when the nicotine hit his system. School had always been an endurance test for him. Getting him to sit still for 2 hours without going for a cigarette proved nearly impossible. He was already itching by the 45 minute mark.

“What did you even do to get kicked out before 12?” He looks at George, who tells him exactly what happened with tears of laughter in his eyes. Matty rolls his before sitting down on the comforter located to the left of the TV, ashing into one of the various ashtrays situated around the house. George sits on the sofa next to Ross, and you make your way to your favorite spot, the table. Sitting cross legged on the table made you all face each other, which you quite liked.

“Brew?” George asks, looking up from his Ipod. Everyone nods, and he gets up to put on the kettle. Idle conversation fills the air, and Matty starts chatting about the new “groundbreaking” Metallica album. Matty was, if anything, a music snob. No one could stop him raving on about albums or artists, whether he was praising or criticizing them. Once he started, you couldn't stop him to save your life.

Minutes tick past when George brings back mugs of tea. Mattys mug has got the words “I ❤️ cum” on it. Ross has his usual Macclesfield Town mug, and you and George have the plain green ones Adam bought in an attempt to make the flat seem somewhat civilized.

Hours pass and Matty finally shuts up. You end up on top of him, sitting on the arms of the comforter. You're all watching Skins on the telly, and Mattys hand makes its way to your back, keeping you steady. He’d always been touchy like that, so it didn't bother you. You look at the sofa and see Ross passed out, drooling onto George's jumper. George, polite as ever, lets him sleep. It was a miracle Ross hadn't started snoring already.

You suggest to Matty that maybe it was time to get going, seeing as you lived on the other side of the city. George's place was right around the corner, so he decided to stay and look after Ross a bit before Adam got home from his shift. Britain's sweetheart.

Getting up as quietly as possible, making your way towards the door. Ross stirs as Matty almost knocks over his mug. The two of you make eye contact, silently laughing at Ross’ position, basically on top of George. He flipped you off, rolling his eyes and reaching for the remote, turning down the telly.

It was still fairly dark inside, so gathering everything proved a bit of a challenge. The curtains were drawn shut, the yellow material of them painting the house in a warm yellow hue.

You had spotted Mattys flowery bag in the corner next to the stove, and grabbed it along with a bottle of cola that was set on top of the kitchen counter. Hydration was important, after all, even if you knew Adam would be livid that you were stealing his shit again. What are mates for?

Matty grabbed both of your coats, mouthing “lets go,” before making his way towards the front door.

The bright light of the hallway burns your eyes. How do they survive coming out here when that fucking flat is always so dark? You think to yourself. You wonder if Ross has a vitamin D deficiency from the inherent lack of sunshine in his life, yourself excluded.

The bus ride home is rowdier, filled with kids from surrounding schools. The both of you hid in a corner towards the front, away from the dickheads that usually sat in the back row. You were both too tired to deal with anyone but each other.

He was right, everything did smell like jimmy choo now, and maybe you shouldn't have sprayed so much.

His hand wanders to his eyes, rubbing a bit of the eyeshadow off.

“Does it still look alright?” he asks, looking up from your lap. It had smudged a bit, melted off after a full day of wear. It's not like you used your expensive waterproof stuff, after all.

“You look fine, pretty actually,” You give him a tired smile, stroking his hair absentmindedly

“Can you even call a guy pretty? Isn't that, like, inherently degrading?” Matty mutters, a grin spreading onto his face.

“It's only degrading if you let it be. You Matthew Healy, are pretty. Pretty like a girl”

A laugh escapes you, imagining Matty as a woman. Knowing him, he’d be into it.

“Does it bother you? Y’know, me being feminine and wearing makeup.” The question surprises you. It's a rare thing seeing Matty this vulnerable. He doesn't care what other people think, but he does care what you think.

“You know I don't care, I actually prefer you this way.” you assure him.

“Though it's still my mission to convince you that the backpack is not the move you think it is.”

That earns you a frown from Matty. “It is! I'll let you know the lady at the store told be it very in this time of year” its always funny watching him get defensive over his fashion choices, even if he knows he’s fucked up and its hideous.

“Yeah maybe it's trendy... for 8 year old girls! But you do you mate, don't let me judge you,” that gets you an elbow to the gut.

The walk home is one you always take together. Arms hooked into each other, walking, sharing headphones. It's your turn on the music, putting on ‘This Charming Man’ by the smiths.

“You know, Morrissey sort of reminds me of you. You're really similar in your campness” Matty choked on air, shooting you a faux offended look.

“Did you seriously call Morrissey camp? He'd have your head for that.”

“You're both attention slags, so there's at least one similarity.” Matty doesn't say anything, knowing your words do, in fact, ring true. Matty loves attention, and man, is good at getting it.

He draws people to him like moths to a flame. Always the loudest, always the most interesting.

That one saying; “You can't be the prettiest girl at the party, but you always be the drunkest” is a personification of Matty. He tips back wine glass after wine glass, not caring about the stains on his shirt or the red ring around his lips. He then makes it a poor Hanns job to make sure he doesnt get into a scrap with three much bigger guys (which actually did happen last summer outside of a pub in london. Matty got out scot free, while Adam nearly suffered a heart attack).

You hug Matty goodbye, giving him a peck on the cheek.

You always dreaded coming home.

They say your biggest critic is your mind, but yours was your mother. You knew she had already gotten a call from the school saying you cut class. The moment you stepped into the living room, the yelling started. “How can you do this” and “What are you even doing with your life” turned into “Look at yourself, you look like a whore and you're going to school like that?” or “Were you out with that little gay boyfriend of yours again?”

You try to tune it out, not letting it get to you. She's been like that for as long as you can remember, never letting up for even just a second. You weren't the best kid, but she sure isn't helping you “get on the right track” as she liked to say.

Tears well up in your eyes when you finally shut your bedroom door. Your first instinct is to call Matty. He picks up after two rings, immediately hearing the quiver in your voice.

He tells you he’ll be there as soon as he can.

Minutes pass by slowly until you hear a familiar, although uncharacteristically soft, knock at your window. Matty.

Your puffy eyes meet his and he can tell you’d been crying. No words were exchanged as he took you into your arms, his hands soothingly stroking your hair as you let out muffled sobs into his chest. It broke his fucking heart to see you like this. You were extensions of each other, the others' pain was always your own.

“It's all so shit. Why cant she just be normal one fucking time.” your voice audibly shakes, partially out of anger and partially out of exasperation.

“I know i suck, I know I'm a bad daughter but-,” Matty cuts you off. “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” His words only make you cry harder.

He holds you close, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, the sound of his voice similar to the way he spoke to you that night. His hands feel cold against your skin, and you know he’d rushed to your house without grabbing his coat. You look up at him, seeing his hair was unruly, curls falling into his face. The blonde highlights littered his dark hair and he ran his hand through them, brushing them to the side to get a better look at you.

“D’you want to sit down? We can listen to music. Whatever you want, and won't even comment on how shit it is, promise,” He knew you didn't want to talk about it then, you never did.

You sit in silence, your face still in his chest, staining the light blue material of his shirt. You quietly apologize, knowing how much he loves that shirt. He tells you to shut up, and that it didn't matter.

He had gotten it in Barcelona at some tourist shop for 50 quid. Insane price for a tshirt that just said “Barcelona” on it, but he held it dear to his heart. It reminded him of his childhood summers.

“There's a bottle of um…,” you trail off, gesturing to the second drawer of your nightstand. Matty understands, and reaches over you to open it. The drawer is filled with half eaten granola bars, bracelets, jewelry, the odd vape for when it was too cold to go outside. Matty always took the piss out of you for having them, saying they were ‘so fucking girly it hurt’. After a second of rummaging, he took out a half drunk bottle of Bacardi. It always sat in your nightstand for when you needed it, and you definitely needed it now.

“Only you'd have a giant bottle of rum in your nightstand,” Matty says softly, searching your expression. The corners of your mouth tug upwards at his words, and you crack a smile.

He opens it for you, and grabs an abandoned cup from your desk. The cup he had gifted you on your 17th birthday. It was covered in flowers and stars, very Matty. Very you. Pouring a healthy amount into the glass, he hands it to you.

“To shitty situations” He raises it, clinking it against your cup. He takes a swig straight from the bottle. You down the whole thing in one go, wincing as the alcohol burns down your throat.

“You feel better?” he asks, pouring more into your cup. You nod, before taking another drink. “I just need to get drunk and forget,” you sigh. Matty starts to speak again.

“That's an unhealthy way to go about it. Soon enough I'll be picking you up from corners because you can't handle your liquor. It's a recipe for alcoholism, innit?” you cackle at his words prompting Matty to raise his eyebrows at you.

“Oh come off it!,” How many times have you been so drunk you couldn't find your own dick if you tried. Sort yourself out before criticizing my drinking habits.” you scoff

You decide ‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis is the right soundtrack for the night. You lay down next to Matty, your shoulders and thighs touching each other. You look up fondly at the dozens of yellow stars littering your ceiling. Reminiscent of your early childhood, you couldn't bear to take them down. You still felt like a child, your heart yearning for the same innocence you no longer possessed. A distinct naïveté you missed dearly. After your breakup with Phillip you'd realized that the world wasn't all it was cut out to be. People wanted, and they took. It didn't matter to them if they hurt others, because as long as they were satiated, nothing else mattered.

You turn to your left, draping your arm over Mattys stomach. He let out a deep breath, raising his right arm to draw light circles onto your back. His nails had grown out longer than usual, but the sharpness of them was comforting through the thin material of your tank top. The edge of your small twin bed dug into your back.

The two of you laid like that for hours before sleep took over your body. The stars on the ceiling blurred as your eyes started to shut. You let out a soft hum, settling into Matty even more, holding him close.

You don't know how long he stayed, but he was gone when you woke up. You feel a sticky note attached to your forehead, the glue rubbing off on your skin. You could barely read Mattys erratic handwriting. The note read: you fell asleep, hope your hangover isn't as bad as mine. left you some Advil on your dresser xx.

Your hand reached next to you, feeling two tablets. You wash them down with water from the sink. Your cell phone lights up with a text from George

“We’re meeting at Hanns flat, be there in 30,”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The windows were rolled up, trapping the smoke inside. Your eyes were glazed over, barely able to make out Ross’ face in front of you. Watching as Matty took another hit, you made a ‘give it here’ motion at the zoot, prompting him to hand it to you. Rhianna blared through the radio, a far cry from Adams usual taste in music, but no one seemed to care. Even Matty had managed to keep his mouth shut, instead moving his head in time with the music.

Adam was sitting in the driver's seat, as always. He’d never let anyone else drive his girl, not even Ross. He was insanely protective over his car, even if it was an old piece of junk.

George was in the passenger seat, holding a pink, polka dotted ashtray in his hand. The colorful ceramic proved quite the contrast against his dark clothes and messy blonde hair. It was a gift from his older sister, and the only ashtray he ever used.

You were perched in the middle seat, your elbows on the console between Adam and George. Matty sat on your right, and Ross on your left.

“No joke, I once had a bird offer to give me a footjob. Can you imagine that?” Adam spoke loudly, almost too loud. Ross let out a disgusting snort, the mental image of Adam getting a footjob making him properly lose it. You make a face.

“That can't feel good at all, innit? Aren't the soles of feet rough?” you ponder. “Only if you have George's hobbit feet, that is,” Matty said, ducking to avoid yet another lighter being chucked at him. You were going to run out of lighters at this rate.

“I'll show you hobbit feet you fucking cunt,” George retorted, sticking out his tongue like a child.

“I had a girl once who wanted me to properly bite down on her nipples, like hard. Can't imagine how much that would've hurt.” you share. She’d been quite the odd one up until she was in your bed, so you were already expecting some sort of weird kink. Nipple biting was definitely not on that list. Not that you were kink shaming.

George spoke first: “What d’you mean girl? You're telling me you've been with girls?” You raise your eyebrows at him. “Erm, yeah? Didn't I tell you-?” Everyone shook their heads except Matty. You had already told him this story months before, the both of you laughing at your misfortune. Smiling at the fond memory, you meet Ross’ eye.

“We didn't know you were like, proper gay,” he says quietly, not wanting to sound abrasive. You suck in a deep breath before answering. “I'm not proper anything, and besides,” you point at Matty sitting next to you, “This one’s snogged loads of blokes.” A collective “What???” fills the car, with everyone's eyes now on Matty.

“What if I have? It's not my job to notify you of all my sexual endeavors, innit?” Matty looks slightly uncomfortable, giving you a look. You frown at him, and he shakes his head. Slight signs of a smile linger on his face. It's fine he mouths at you, resting his arm on your shoulder.

The three of them talk loudly over each other, with Ross asking some very explicit questions on the mechanics of gay sex.

“How do you even, like, properly shag? It's not like you have anything you can shove into the other girl,” Jesus christ.

Matty taps Ross’ shoulder, bringing the attention to his hands. He brings them up to his mouth, sticking his tongue out between the V-shape his fingers had made. Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, the whole demonstration makes Ross visibly cringe.

The car suddenly starts. Adam makes the short drive to Carolines, stating that the hotbox was getting to be too much for him. George has a go at his age, calling him an old man. Hann was in fact, about 2 and a half years older than George, and a solid year older than the rest of you. Old man was right.

You had rolled down the window on Mattys side, hoping some fresh air would help Adams driving skills. The erratic swerving had begun to make you sick.

Finally trugding up the stairs to the terrace, Matty says something about it being too fucking cold. Ross says “That's the price of being built like a male Kate Moss,” and Matty nearly shoves him down the stairs.

It is colder than usual, and you had opted for a dark gray zip up, the material hugging you tightly. You were pretty sure it was Mattys. A pair of green wash jeans hung low, revealing the lightning bolt tattoo on your right hip bone. It was a copy of Bowie's on the cover of ‘Aladdin Sane’. You had gotten it done by another one of your mates, Rome, who was an aspiring tattoo artist. It looked a bit shit, the lines slightly crooked, but it was yours.

You had convinced George and Ross to carry the sofa from the office onto the terrace. They were the tallest and strongest, and Mattys arms would have snapped like twigs if he tried to carry anything, you said to them. George laughed his octave defying laugh, while Ross let out an annoyed grunt, shoving past you.

Adam was right behind them, carrying a small wooden coffee table. “For you- I know how much you hate sofas,” he says quietly. You called him a softy, but inevitably thanked him for bringing it out. He had his rare sweet moments, and you appreciate them

Once you had all settled, you took out your tobacco and papes, starting to roll your first cigarette of the night. You honestly needed a break from all the weed, because jesus.

Matty let out a groan, taking the piss out of you for bringing all that instead of just buying industrials.

“I know you think you're better than us for rolling, it's quite pretentious.” he sucks in a breath before talking, moving his hands erratically “Don't tell me it ‘tastes better’ because that's simply bollocks, it all tastes the same!”

“Pretentious? Her? That's rich coming from someone who raves on about William Burroughs like anyone knows who is!” Matty looks hurt, and you give Ross a look that says you really don't know who William Burroughs is?

The conversation continued without you, too preoccupied with rolling to add anything. All was well until George decided to open his giant mouth again.

“If you're not fully gay,” he started, “how do we know you're not secretly crushing on any of us?” he raised his eyebrows, looking at you expectantly.

You let out a snort, it slowly morphing into laughter until you look at him, his expression deadly serious.

“You can’t actually mean that?” your voice is slightly hoarse. “For all we know, you could be harboring secret affection for Matty with the amount of times you’ve slept in the same bed.”

Mattys perks up at this, shooting George a glare that could kill a man. He told him???

You don't know what came over you. Maybe it was the weed, maybe you were just groggy from the lingering hangover. You lick the cig closed, setting down next to the others. Uncrossing your legs, you get up and walk towards Matty. You can see the grin plastered onto his face, and he is definitely not sober.

You stumbled over Adam's foot, kicking it out of the way. Ross moved away from Matty, giving you some space.

The terrace was dark, but the moonlight illuminated some of Mattys features. Specifically, his eyes. They seemed to glow, following your every step toward him. I'll show you secret affection you thought to yourself when your hand made contact with Mattys face. The stubble on his chin scratched your fingers. He never could grow a beard, and the faint shadow was as long as it would get.

He sat with his legs spread, skin peaking out through the single rip in his jeans. His arms rested on the sofas back, splaying out to the side. He wore a black v-line jumper, the knit of it almost see-through.

The makeup from the previous day was still smudged on his face, giving him a rockstar-esque look. The eyeshadow framed his eyes, glittering in the faint light. Your hands cupped his face, lightly stroking his jaw. The grin had been wiped off his face the moment you had settled between his legs, kneeling on the edge of the sofa.

You didn't think, just moved, your lips smashing against each other. It seemed to take Matty by surprise, and it even took him a second before he kissed you back. One thing nagged at you. Why did you like it?

There was no time to think when you heard George wolf whistle at the both of you.

You want a show, I'll give you a show you thought, slipping in your tongue and taking over the kiss. He seemed into it, but then again, Matty would fuck anything with a pulse. You smile against his mouth at the thought. It suddenly felt hot, even though you were outside. His hand snaked its way into your hair, tugging slightly. This didn't feel platonic. Was it?

“Alright, alright, we didn't sign up for a porno,” Ross says, his hand covering his mouth. You were the one who broke the kiss. Matty let out a soft groan when you parted, loud enough for only you to hear. His eyes pierced yours, and you moved to get off of him.

Your heart thrummed against your ribcage, and you felt dizzy. What the fuck?

You wiped your mouth, your lipgloss having smeared all over your face. Wiping the back of your sticky hand against the sofa, you turned and walked back to your spot on the table.

“See! Absolutely no ‘secret affection’ as George so kindly put it.” you say to the group, going back to your pile of fags, taking one and lighting it. If you had looked at Matty instead of being preoccupied with Hanns bickering about the prissy new manager, you would have noticed a faint shade of red caressing his cheeks. He felt around for his own cigarettes, and took out a pack of parliaments. Spotting the lighter next to you, he reached for it, lighting the cig as he inhaled the smoke eagerly.

It was already half two when the five of you finally piled back into Hanns car. The prominent stench of weed made you scrunch up your nose. You decide to light a cigarette in the car despite various protests and threats to your life if you even dared to ash onto the leather seats. Switching seats with Matty, you ash out the window instead, resting your head against the rim of the car.

Ross and George were having yet another meaningless debate on whether mixing ketchup and mayo was a cardinal sin or totally acceptable. Every other word was an insult, and you knew they would never come to an agreement, ever.

You had already established that you’d be sleeping over at Mattys, saving Adam time and petrol not having to drive both of you home separately. Denise and Tim were out on a press tour, so he had the house to himself.

His room was dark, the curtains drawn shut. If you knew Matty, you knew he hated the big light with a burning passion. Instead, a small lamp was turned on in the corner, illuminating the various posters that littered his wall. Band posters, prints, tapestries, the occasional quote. Everything screamed Matty

His room was filled with so much music. CD’s, vinyls, even the odd cassette tape. His purple record player sat on top of a dresser next to his desk, surrounded by various small trinkets of his. It was his prized possession, a gift from his mother for his 14th birthday.

You had already helped yourself to a cola from his fridge downstair. His house was huge, way bigger than your own. Your parents weren't actors, after all. The walls of his room were stained towards the corners, just another side effect of Mattys near constant chain smoking. His bed was big, and you both fit comfortably on it. The wardrobe next to it had a pile of your own clothes in it, but none to sleep in. Your eyes dart around the room looking for one of his to wear, landing on his bright pink durex t-shirt. He had worn it once to school, promptly getting kicked out of literature class by a very conservative Mrs. Sexton.

Soft music was playing in the background as you unloaded your bag onto Matty’s insanely cluttered desk. Out came multiple pens, makeup, not one, not two, but three lighters, and finally, makeup wipes.

You sat on the ground in front of his full length mirror, wiping at your eyes and face. Matty was making the bed, giving the both of you each your own duvet, a must after too many fights over the blanket. You weren't a peaceful sleeper, constantly tossing and turning, occasionally even kicking Matty in the back.

Washing your face, you hear the bathroom door click open. Matty went and sat on the closed toilet lid next to you.

“Hand me my toothbrush, will you? And some toothpaste.” he asked, stretching his hand out. You do, even wetting the toothbrush for him.

He sat there, brushing his teeth and flipping through a recent issue of playboy while you put moisturizer on, and then a serum.

“I dont get how you can be arsed to put all that shit on your face, it takes way too long,” his comment makes you roll your eyes at him in the reflection.

“Not everyone is naturally blessed with clear skin like you, people like me have to put effort into their appearance, knobhead.” A wave of insecurity hits you as you inspect the acne on your face.

You had been a chronic face picker in your early teenage years, and the consequences of that were gnarly acne scars covering most of your face. They were not prominent, but they were there.

Matty was fortunate enough to have had maybe three zits ever, his clear skin the stuff of dreams.

Matty watches you pick yourself apart in the mirror. He hated when you did that. It made his heart ache in his chest. He wished you could see what he saw. What did he see?

“You’re quite beautiful, really,” he says, making eye contact with you through the mirror. You’re taken aback, not quite sure how to respond. You open your mouth to speak.

“Oh bugger off,” you say, your voice breathy and annoyed. You didn't want to sound annoyed, it just came out that way.

Matty raises both his hands in defeat, and spits the toothpaste into the toilet bowl, flushing. The hairbands sitting on the bathroom counter eventually end up in your hair, holding together two braids on either side of your face. You stare at the mirror one more time, examining yourself. The pink fabric of your (well, Mattys) shirt clung to you like it did Matty. Taking off your bra, you go back into his room. He had changed into a loose Kiss t-shirt and black boxers. The light of the corner lamp helped you find your phone, sitting on the nightstand next to you.

The atmosphere was calm, calm enough that you’d almost forgotten about the kiss. Almost.

Matty reached over to turn the lamp off, lighting a candle for light. Cinnamon.

“You know it's dangerous to sleep with candles lit? We could catch on fire and die,” Matty had rolled over on his side, now facing you. A grin spread onto his face.

“If it kept me from ever seeing Hanns ugly mug ever again, i’d gladly let cinnamon spice scented flames burn me to death,”

You giggle at his words. Poor Adam, always taking the worst of Mattys jokes, if you could even call them that. Accepting his decision to keep the candle lit, you pull the blanket over your shoulders. Your eyes shut and you can feel butterflies in your stomach. Butterflies, really? Jesus fucking christ.

You're scared to open your eyes, scared to even look at Matty. Maybe it was a mistake. He's your best mate. That kiss didn't mean anything, especially not to him.

A million thoughts race through your head, and you shove them into a small corner of your mind. Ignore ignore ignore, it didn't mean anything. He's just some wanker who picked you up at a bus stop three years ago and somehow became your best mate. He's just some guy you share a bed with sometimes. He's just some guy who lights your spliffs for you. He's just some guy who you kissed on a terrace overlooking the city.

Fuck.

#look at me trying to write #cringe #the 1975 #matty healy #ross macdonald #adam hann #george daniel #drive like i do #matty healy x reader #matty healy angst #matty healy fluff #slow burn #eventual smut #friends to lovers #fallingforyou #dlid #matty healy x you

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aticklishpercivalwriter · 1 month

Text

What Are you Hiding There, My Bee~? (fic)

Link to Full Art (credits go to @lyrieeeee): Sethos/Scaramouche

Summary: During a picnic, Scaramouche discovers that Sethos has a back window and takes full advantage of it :P

A/N: This is the first fic of a series of SethoScara fics I have planned out. A total of three (maybe more) including this one. Though, you can consider My Honey ♡ My Bee as part one establishing their relationship. Inspiration for this fic comes from this artwork along with this submission from @vaporized-dimsum. I hope you all enjoy reading this one! It was very fun for me to write it! Though the title of this fic was hard to create :( Also, proud to say I typed 51% of this while I was on vacation on my iPod Touch 2nd Generation ;) One last thing, be sure to complete the poll at the end to have a say where Scara should be tickled. It is time for Sethos to get revenge~

Word Count: 2561

Also on AO3!

—

Sethos and Scaramouche were having a picnic. Scara initially refused but eventually gave in because of Sethos’ persistence. So here he was, running his fingers through his lover’s hair and feeling the soft strands.

“Having fun over there, honey~” Sethos teased.

Are you having fun with my hat, annoying bee?” Scara huffed.

“Aw, still sulky about having a picnic with me?”

“You are so annoying.”

Wanderer refused to admit that he was actually enjoying this mundane activity of a picnic.

“Lighten up. Here,” the leader of the Temple of Silence set down Scara’s hat and turned around, handing him one of the cooked dishes he packed. “You haven’t eaten yet. Try my signature dish. I know you’ll like it.”

“And what makes you think I’ll like your cooking?” he asked, dropping Sethos’ hair in annoyed disappointment. Why do I like his hair so much?

“Because I only make the best of the best for my boyfriend!~”

“Tch,” he felt his face start to heat up and grabbed the food from Sethos’ hands to hide his incoming blush.

“Stop saying words like that,” he mumbled, taking a bite from his boyfriend’s cooking.

Oh shit. It’s good.

The former god’s eyes widened in disbelief at the explosion of tastes hitting him as he took another bite.

“So, you like it?”

“It’s really-” he was about to compliment him, but he saw the smug look in his eyes.

“Actually, it’s really terrible.”

“Now, now love~” Sethos singsonged. “I know you’re lying. I saw the look in your eyes~”

“You saw nothing.”

“What about that bite you just took?”

“That was for your pride, so it won’t take a hit.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, Wan,” Sethos laughed and leaned on him.

“Hmph,” he grumbled.

Sethos dropped his teasing and went to grab and admire his lover's hat instead. Laying on his belly, his long locks covering his entire back.

“What’s your deal with my hat anyway?” Scara asked, ignoring the craving to just comb his fingers through his bee’s hair.

“It’s so cool! The patterns, ornaments, and accessories are so detailed!”

“If you want it, you can take it.”

“Really?!”

Sethos giddily grinned, putting his lover’s hat on with a cheeky smirk as he faced him.

“You want to use my hat as an umbrella?” Sethos imitated him.

“That’s not how-”

“The fucking audacity to make that request.”

Sethos burst out laughing and fell forward into Scara's lap.

“That’s not how I sound like,” Scara glared at him.

“Noho, that is hohow you sound lihike.”

Sethos continued to laugh, making Scara’s hat fall off and parting his long locks. Scara’s eyes widened when he saw a sliver of skin shine in the sunlight.

“I didn’t know you had a back window,” he reached out in awe. “Why do you even-”

“HYAHAHA!”

He jolted in his lover’s lap, letting out a bright shrill of laughter, distinct from his laughing right before.

“That was…uh…” Sethos’ eyes darted up towards his lover who had a hint of mischief running through his eyes.

“What are you hiding there, my bee~?”

“Eek! I-I gotta head out now. Haha! N-Need to run some errands so bye!”

Sethos made a run for it, activating his Electro powers. Wanderer just watched him, slowly getting up and picking up his hat. A shit-eating grin grew on his face. It hasn’t even been a week since he tickled Sethos, but he has been craving to hear his delicious laughter and just get his hands on him.

“Get back here, little bee~”

Sethos felt shivers travel down his spine as he heard those words and ran even faster. He saw Wanderer’s shadow in front of him and went into panic mode.

“I’m getting closer, love~,” he heard from above.

“N-No you’re nohohot!” he squeaked out, reversing his direction to throw his pursuer off.

But he knows he’s winning a losing battle. The sounds of Wanderer’s clothing becoming louder with each passing second.

Scara was having the time of his life making Sethos let out little squeaks and giggles trying to run away from him. He also had a great view of his physique and his muscular arms. The way the sweat made his skin glisten and- What am I thinking!? He shook his head and eyed his prize, the back window. His lover’s hair swayed back and forth, his back window coming in and out of view as if teasing Scara.

“Dumb little bee,” he huffed to himself.

By now, he was right on top of Sethos and smirked devilishly.

“Coming down~”

Sethos didn’t have time to react as he was tackled down to the ground from above.

“Oof! Hon- Whoa-whoa-whoaah!”

Sethos lost his footing and Wanderer managed to shield his head in his arms right before they started tumbling down the hill. Thankfully it was a grassy hill as they rolled and rolled until they reached the bottom.

“Ugh,” Sethos groaned, face down in the grass as he turned his face to the side once he felt Scara get off him. “At least it wasn’t saAHAHAHA-!”

Sethos let out a shriek as he felt a finger scratch the patch of skin exposed on his back.

“MoCHIHIhi!” He tried raising himself but immediately felt his lover straddle him and a sudden squeeze on his sides. “EYAHAHAHA!”

His hands gave out and his body shook with laughter as Wanderer scribbled his fingers over his back.

“Ihihi dihihidn’t eheheven dohoho ahahanythihihing! Why ahaham ihihi gehehetihing tihihickled?”

“Oh, you did do something, little bee,” he said, grazing his fingers against his clothed shoulder blades. Eheheheek!

Wanderer couldn’t help but chuckle at Sethos’ reactions. He’s cute when he laughs and giggles like this.

“Whahat dihihid ihihi- WAHAHAIT!” Sethos yelped when he felt Scara lift up his clothing, exposing his back to the warm breeze. “Hohonehehey! Dohohon’t dohoho ihihit! Plehehease!

“Do what?”

“Tihihihickle mehehe! Whahat elSEHEHE- NOHOHOHAHAHA!”

“I thought you would never ask~”

His devious lover smirked as he now properly tickled his back. His fingers scribbled over the ticklish real estate.

“WAHAHA! T-ThAHAt’s NOHOHOT waHAHAt I MEAhaHANT!”

“You said, ‘Tickle me,’ didn’t you? What else am I supposed to do, not tickle you? You asked for it, little bee~” Scara smirked, planting kisses on the ticklish skin as his fingers trailed down his spine.

Sethos shook his head in ticklish mirth, grass falling out of his hair as he tried to reach behind him to fend off Scara’s fingers but to no avail.

“Youhu arEHEHE usIHIHing myhy wohohords aga- AHAHAHA! ahahagainst MEHEHE, MOCHIHIHI!”

He scoffed, “Since you care so much about words, try to spell what I’m writing then.”

He slid his fingers meticulously across his lover’s back, focusing on his shoulder blades.

“AHAHAHA!” Sethos screeched. “IHIHI’M NOHOHOT REHEHEHADY!”

“Wrong answer~” Scara grinned, squeezing his side.

“NAHAHA! OkaHAHAY! OkAHay! Uhh, ehehe! ‘L’ Ahaha! ‘O-’ GAHAHA! NOHOHO!” Sethos let out a loud laugh when Scara traced the third letter on his spine.

“You want to give up?”

“NEHEHEVER! ‘VehEHEHE!’”

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you~”

“‘VEHEHE!’ ’V!’ aHAHand ‘EHEHE!’ ‘E!’ MOCHIHIHI!”

“And it spells?”

“LOHOHOHOVE!”

“Wha-”

“LOVE! LOHOHOVE! LOVEHEHE!”

Scara’s hands stilled in surprise, not expecting him to answer correctly.

“Yeah,” he said, continuing his onslaught of scribbles. Hehehey! Ihihihi answerehehed correhehectly! “How about this one?” he asked, ignoring his lover’s protests.

He increased the pressure of his writing and instead of letters, he started drawing a few shapes.

“WHAhahat arehehe thOHOSE!? ThOHose areHEhen’t WOHOHORDS! AHAHAHA!”

“Well, use letters to create a word to name them. Shouldn’t be too hard since you are a master spelling bee, aren’t you~?” Scara knows he is being cruel, but he can’t help but want to take victory in this game.

Sethos had tears of mirth threatening to fall but that wasn’t going to make him back down from the challenge. He tried to focus, focusing on his lover’s fingers. How they know their way to make him laugh and draw out the reactions they want.

“NOHOHOHOT THAHAHAT FOHOCUS!” he pounded his fists into the ground as a guffaw of laughter left his lips.

His lover just raised an eyebrow in amusement, fluttering the feather on his vision in place of his fingers and enjoying the way his back repeatedly arched up and down.

Ticklish shocks ran through Sethos’ body, but he wasn’t ready to give up. He focused once again, visualizing the shapes that Scara was tracing on his back. A circle, ahahaha! He’s merciless! Nehehe, a heart. And…a zig-zag? Heheahaha! Darn, my ticklish back!

“Ahaha! A ciRIHIcleHE! CIRCLEHE! HEART! AHAHAHAND! ZIHIHIG-ZAHAHAG! ZIG-ZAHAG!”

Scara was yet again surprised, more so than last time.

Shit, he is really good at this. Tch, I’ll just need to trick him then. Use his ability to my advantage.

“Dihihid Ihihi wihihin?” Sethos giggled, a hint of smugness laced in his voice.

“You are a cocky, little bee,” Scara dug into the back of his ribs in punishment.

“HAHAHAHA! WAHAHAHA! I’M SOHOHOHRRY! I’M SORREHEHEY! I’M SAHAHAHARRY! NAHAHAHA!”

Scara roughly tickled him for a couple more minutes before letting up.

“Nohoho mohohore, plehehease!”

“Serves you right.”

Scara placed his hands on his lover’s back once more, making him yelp in surprise.

“Mohohore?” he whined.

“Mhm,” Scara hummed. “You guess this right, you win.”

Scara traced Sethos’ back more lightly this time, almost like a caress. Sethos happily giggled, his head resting on his arm as he turned to the side with a carefree smile on his face.

“Thihihis ihihis prehehetty nihihice, ehehe.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Scara said, tracing down his spine.

He twitched in Scara’s hold in surprise. “AHAHahaHA! OhHOHo rigHIhigHT!”

Scara snorted and started tracing the letters again.

“’Tehehe’ ‘Ihi’ uhuhum ‘C’ ‘KehHEHE’ ‘L-Ehehe’ ahahAHA! ‘M’ ‘Ehe!’”

“And what does that spell?” A smug expression crossed Scara’s face as he continued his soft tracing.

“Ahahahaehehe! ‘Tihihickle Mehe!’”

“Come again, little bee~” Scara teased, stopping his tracing.

“Tickle Me!”

A beat passed before Sethos’ eyes widened like saucers in realization and he turned to look at him.

“Honey. You are so eHEHEVIHIHIL! NAHAHAHA!”

He shoved his face back into his arm as Scara ruthlessly scribbled his fingers on his skin.

“I honestly can’t believe you fell for it twice, my ticklish bee~”

“YOUHUHUHU WEHEHEHERE DIHIHISTRAHACTING MEHEHE! I-I COHOHOULDN’T THI- AHAHAHAHA! THINK!”

“Doesn’t change the fact you still said it,” he stuck out his tongue at him even though he couldn’t see him.

“MOCHIHIHI!” he shrieked when he felt him target the spot where his back window would be if his clothing were not lifted up. “YOUHUHU PLAHAHAYED DIHIHIRTY!”

“How could I have played dirty? You correctly said the two words I was drawing, and you won.”

“WEHEHELL, HAHAHAHA! Y-YOUHUHU STIHIHILL PLAHAHAYED DIHIHIRTY! THIHIHIS IHIHIS YOUR EXCUSEHE TOHOHO TIHIHICKLE MEHEHEHE! YOUHU JUHUST COUHULDN’T ACCEHEPT THE FAHACT I WAS BEHEATING YOUHU AT YOUR OHOWN GAHAME! AHAM IHIHI RIGHIT?”

The tickling suddenly stopped and Sethos gulped in some much-needed air. He took the time to catch his breath and regain his energy. A few minutes passed of him just panting and the wind brushing the blades of grass around them. It was then that Sethos realized that Wanderer, who was still on top of him, wasn’t saying anything.

“Lov-Ow!”

Scara suddenly shifted forward and nipped at his ear.

“What was-”

“You just couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you?” Scara directly whispered into his ear making him shudder. His voice was much deeper and threatening, making Sethos gulp in nervousness.

"You want to see how I really play dirty?”

Sethos could hear the smirk in his voice, and he felt butterflies in his stomach. Whether they were from excitement or fear or even both, he didn’t know. He tried to speak but no words came out.

“Where is all that bravado now, my bee?”

Scara grabbed Sethos’ chin and turned his head towards him. Sethos saw the look in his lover’s eyes and audibly gulped, heart pounding in his chest. Scara's violet eyes shined with hunger and that smirk turned into a devilish grin when he saw his reaction.

“I have one word for you,” he leaned even closer to him, making him squirm in his hold. “Raspberries.”

Before Sethos could even process what he said, he immediately succumbed to laughter with Scara blowing raspberry after raspberry on his back.

“BWAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHA! HOHOHON- AHAHAHAHA! PLE- HAHAHAHA!” Sethos couldn’t even finish his words as Wanderer mercilessly wrecked him with raspberries.

“Pfft!” His spine.

“NAHAHAHAHA!”

“PfFFTt!” His shoulder blades.

“GAHAHAHAHA!”

“PFFFFTTT!” His back window.

“BWAHAHAHAHA!”

And to make matters worse for him, he started drilling his fingers into his sides and armpits along with scribbles on the back of his ribs.

“EYAHAHAHAHA!”

Sethos was in hysterics as he pounded the ground with his fists and kicked his legs out.

“SCA- AHAHAHAHAHA! SCAHAHAHA- HAHAHAHA! SCAHAHAHARAHAHAHA!”

“That is my name, ticklish bee.”

“STAHAHAHAHAHAP! I-I’M GONNA DIEHEHEHE! AHAHAHAHAHA!

“Apologize.”

“I-I CAHAHAHAN’T- GAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“Guess you chose death.”

“NOHOHOHO! WAI- AHAHA! WAHAHAHAIT! OKAHAHAHAY! I-I’M SOHOHOHORRY FOHOHOR SAHAHAYING THOHOHOSE THIHIHINGS TOHOHOHO YOUHUHU!”

“Hmm.”

“WHAHAHAHAT EHEHEHELSE DO YOUHUHU WAHAHAHANT MEHEHEHE TOHOHOHO- BWAHAHAHA! NOHOHOT THEHEHERE! STAHAHAHAP!”

“Beg.”

“WAHAHAHAHAT?”

“Plead for it, nicely.”

“AHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHO WAHAHAHAY! snort D-DOHOHOHOHON’T- GAHAHAHAHAHA! snort”

“I’m waiting~”

“N-NEHEHEHEVER! Y-YOU- snort NAHAHAHA W-WOHOHON'T GEHEHET IHIHIT OHOUT OHOF MEHEHE!"

"Oh, you're going to wish you never said those words. Laugh before me, my ticklish bee~"

Scara mustered all the breath he could take before letting out the biggest and loudest raspberry he could right on poor Sethos' back window and repeating it over and over all while spidering his fingers all over the rest of his back. The last of Sethos' defense came tumbling down soon after.

"GAHAHAHAHA! snort NONONOHOHOHO! FINE! snort FHIHIHINE! WAHAHAHANDEHEHE! STAHAHAHAP! PLEHEHEHEASE! snort SCAHAHAHAHARA! MYHYHY BELOHOHOVED HOHOHONEHEY! I’M BEHEHEHEGGING YOUHUHU! snort BWAHAHAHAHA! IHIHIT’S TOHOHOHOO MUHUHUHCH! snort PLEHEHEASE! HAHAHAVE MEHEHEHERCY! MEHEHERCEHEHEHEY!”

Oh my archons, he is so adorable.

Scara smiled endearingly at him, at last giving him mercy. He trailed little kisses and raspberries from his back to his neck and eventually turned him over onto his back and went in for a slow, sensual kiss which Sethos immediately melted into.

“Mmm~ Scaraah~ mmph~”

“Mm~ Sethohh~ Hahh~”

They made out for a few minutes, combing their fingers through each other’s hair and exploring each other’s mouths before pulling away. Breathless, they stared at one another taking in each other’s flushed face before Sethos started giggling.

“Your tickling was ruthless!” Sethos managed to say in between giggles.

“But you liked it~”

Sethos looked away blushing but didn’t deny it.

Wanderer chuckled, lifting himself up and picking Sethos up bridal style.

“Let’s finish our picnic.”

“Oh, when did you become such a romantic?~ Ack! Sohohorry!”

“If you don’t shut up, I won’t do this again.”

He was blushing and looking straight ahead as he went up the hill. Sethos glanced at him before closing his eyes in exhaustion with an understanding smile on his face.

“I love you, honey.”

A smile tugged at Scara’s lips.

“I love you too, bee.”

Sethos fell asleep in his arms soon after and curled in towards his chest. He shook his head fondly.

“Let’s go home instead.”

He silently called upon the Aranara to pack up their things and that he’d pick them up later. After thanking them, he set off towards their home and he looked back down at Sethos’ sleeping form. He smiled lovingly at him and planted a kiss on his temple.

“Sleep well, my lovely, ticklish bee.”

—

Google Form Link!

#tickling #genshin impact #tickle fic #genshin impact tickle #genshin impact tickling #lee!sethos #ler!wanderer #ler!scara #ler!scaramocuhe #percival fics #sethoscara #sethos x scaramouche #wanderer x sethos #genshin tickle #genshin tickling #sethos #scaramouche #wanderer

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szallejhscorner · 2 years

Text

The Kiss

It is short. It is fluffy. I was in the mood for it, so have some Chishiya-fluff ~

You loved Kuina. You really, really did. And you’d love her even more if she didn’t prevent you from kissing Chishiya literally all the time, as if it wasn’t hard enough already to do that.

Whenever you were alone with him and finally sensed a chance for a kiss, you took your time to ensure the mood and atmosphere was alright, and more than once you almost had him there. But every single time, Kuina had managed to storm into the room just before your lips had met, and the dreadlocked woman hadn’t even noticed.

Chishiya, on the other side, had chuckled and eyed you with a smirk, and the mocking grin hadn’t left for the rest of the evening. He knew that you tried, and you knew that he wouldn’t mind a kiss from you, but of course the blonde would never approach you. He waited, with the patience of a rock, and enjoyed all the little incidents more than anyone just because he could watch you fret about it.

He was completely aware that you’d snap one day, and he probably saw it coming even before you did.

It was the day where you got as close as you’d never gotten before. You had Chishiya sitting next to you, close enough that your legs touched, and your hand was already caressing his cheek, your thumb playing with a strand of his blonde hair. Breathing out, you already closed your eyes, moved your head towards his –

When the door crashed open with a loud thud, and Kuina stood in the doorframe, panting and beaming with joy. “Pancakes. They’ve made pancakes, down in the main kitch- what the fuck??”

At least this time, she noticed. You sighed and retreated, your fingers hesitating to move away from Chishiya’s warm skin, and you didn’t want to be angry. But you felt the heat swell inside of you, and not even the thought of pancakes could ease that.

“How on earth, Kuina? Every time. Every. Single. Time! What is that inner clock of yours?!”

“Inner what?” Your friend blinked in confusion, eyes wandering between you and Chishiya to try and figure out what exactly she had witnessed.

The blonde chuckled and crossed his arms, leaning back into the pillows of the hotel bed as if nothing had just happened. “Pancakes, you say? I’m sure you won't mind saving enough for all three of us.”

Kuina’s figure eased a bit, as if she had forgotten about the disturbance. “You bet! I’ll get enough for a dozen!”

“Don’t forget some syrup”, you shouted after her once she flew down the hallway, and even though pancakes were a rare and highly desired treat in the Beach, Kuina would be capable of getting enough with no doubt. She’d use more than just her fists to do that – somehow she always got those sweets first, no matter if it was waffles, pancakes or popcorn.

With your foot, you kicked the door close and dropped back into the sheets of Chishiya’s bed. It smelled like strawberries, and you’d sell your soul to sleep one night here with him.

“She’ll be gone for the next couple of minutes”, Chishiya teased you with his catlike voice and you didn’t have to look at him to know he was grinning.

“Nah”, you muttered with closed eyes, “moment’s ruined.” You would have to wait for the next opportunity, but it could take ages for that to come, and even then, Kuina would probably manage to disturb you again. You sighed.

Chishiya shifted, you could hear the rustling of his clothes, and you assumed that he’d get up either to grab his iPod or to tinker around with something on his desk.

But then, all of a sudden, a shadow appeared over your face, and before you could react, something… no, someone touched your lips, the warmth spreading butterflies all through your body.

The softness of that kiss made you gasp in surprise, and in the moment your eyes flew open, you caught Chishiya’s cunning face just as he moved away from you, this time to actually sit down on the desk.

You couldn’t even say anything. All you were capable to do was to touch your lips with your fingers, where the kiss still lingered, while you tried to calm your heartbeat. Had Chishiya... actually kissed you? Just like that?

Unable to talk to him, you did nothing but stare at his back, questioning your mind if it had been nothing but a very short, very realistic dream. And just for once, you were actually happy to see Kuina’s face in the door again.

#chishiya x reader #reader x chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya fluff #oneshot #fluff #aib #alice in borderland

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agendabymooner · 1 year

Text

mamma mia (again) ! daniel r. x ofc (måneskin member! ofc)

“they ask me why i’m so hot, ‘cause i’m italiano.”

summary: a series of video clips, but it’s only just danny ric being in love with a certain lester alessandro.

content warning: hint or two of suggestive comments (nothing detailed or graphic), use of explicit language, filler blurb or something, danny being a simp for few videos straight (“have my kids” type beat), lester being an etsy and pinterest enthusiast, literally posted this blurb from my phone so they’re crazy about their image limits 😩

note: THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE 105 FOLLOWERS?! UHM? seriously, i’ve never been so happy. i honestly only started posting these because i have them ingrained in my brain and won’t let go until i write or make something. just indulging my imagination you know? enjoy xx

masterlist

𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐁𝐄 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐘 𝐑𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐏

【VIDEO ONE — daniel ricciardo is a gatekeeper】

[1st image: yeah, i dunno. everyone just found out that i made it official with my girlfriend and i’m pretty sure i just saw lando weeping in his room. max was the second to react to it and i’m so sure he recoiled. he did say that he didn't want to know what happened in imola few months ago.]

[2nd: interviewer: what happened in imola few months ago? daniel: *chuckles* wouldn’t you like to know - nah, i’m messing about. nothing happened in imola besides from me retiring to my bed early. i think we were both drunk when i posted that photo and i know it looks lewd but there's no way we could've done anything questionable.]

[3rd: d: but yeah. we didn't really want to catch that much attention until maybe i don't know... when we're married or something *chuckles* i: keep it a secret until the wedding? d: yeah. but charles, the absolute fool, posted videos during the concert with me in the background. It would've been real nice if no one caught onto it until we had a mini ric running and racing, you know? just to wreak havoc.]

【VIDEO TWO — daniel ricciardo talks about lester’s love language in his gq video】

[1st: i got this journal from lori. it has my initials "DR" on it for daniel ricciardo*laughs* it's one of those many first gifts that i’ve gotten from her throughout our first few months of dating. her love language isn't just shitting on my life -she has every single aspect of love language within her and this is one of them.]

[2nd: when she gave this to me, all she said was "you can write out your thoughts if you can't let them out through your mouth. *giggles* "she clearly had her thoughts sorted out that time especially when she showed me a page with an embossed phrase or nickname, "tasso di miele" - it means honey badger. she apparently bought the custom embosser from etsy and almost fought tooth and nail just to get it in time. *laughs even more* i love her so much, i honestly wanted to cry that day.]

[3rd: lori actually has a laptop with *laughs* itunes on it and she still got some playlists from 2010-2014? yeah. she’s put a lot of old taylor swift songs in my ipod during the christmas break. my favourite album right now is speak now. she loves red.]

【VIDEO THREE — lester hates ashy hands confirmed】

[1st: daniel: i think i should just cover my hands with gloves all the time. lando: that literally has nothing to do with anything that we're about to do. d: lori tells me that my hands are rough whenever she holds them.]

[2nd: l: or you know... you can just use a hand lotion all the time because your hands dry up real fast? d: ah that's true. i wonder if that's why lori just casually put a bottle of hand cream on my travel bag. the thing smells nice though. it’s chamomile.]

【VIDEO FOUR — it’s okay to spoil your partner; even if it’s an accent chair from her pinterest board】

[1st: d: lori just sent me a picture of an armchair from ikea. l: why was she randomly in ikea, by the way? I saw the text. d: window shopping. but anyway, she saw this armchair that she had on her pinterest board. she asked "pretty or no?" with the green velvet chair. l: what did you tell her?]

[2nd: word to word? I texted her "LOL you should see the accent chair I've gotten you for our flat in monaco." l: are you serious? *laughs* d: she wouldn't tell me what she wanted for her birthday. I only got a brief idea when she left her phone in my pocket once and gave me a free access to her pinterest boards.]

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wh0re43van · 9 months

Text

Reflections- (Warren Lipka X Reader)

Summary: You’re Spencer’s older sister that had to come home after getting kicked out of college. Upon the return, you’re reconnected with the walking asshole that is your brothers best friend.

Word count: 7k

Warnings: smut, weed, alcohol, mention of roofie, slow burn, hate fuck

A/n: I managed to cut this down a good bit, but this is the best I could do because I love plot I’m sorry 😭 also I’m very high so this probably isn’t proof read very well- I will be proofing it better in the near future!

I hang out my window, breathing in the night air after I take a hit off my joint. I sigh, wondering what I’m still doing in my childhood bedroom at age 21. I got kicked out of college two months ago and I still haven’t gotten my life back on track. I have a job interview lined up and I’ve been painting commissions, but I just feel like I’m 14 again. My parents made it seem like I’ve completely fucked up my life and paint me as the pot smoking-drop out, so maybe I should just embrace it.

I groan when I realize that I’ve been thinking too long and joint my has gone out. I hold my favorite zippo up to re-light it when I hear my door fly open, knocking into my dresser. I gasp, whipping around quickly as I accidentally launch my lighter across the floor in the startle. I groan in annoyance when I see my idiot brother and his even more idiotic shadow standing in my doorway.

“Close the door you fucking idiots! Mom’s down there!” I whisper angrily. Spencer pushes Warren into the room and closes the door quickly.

“Sorry,” my brother says awkwardly.

“Damn. You still smoke even after it, like, completely ruined your life?” Warren laughs, motioning to my joint.

“Oh shut up. I got caught with a single gram on campus and they made a big deal out of it; I mean come on it’s 2004 for Christ sake,” I roll my eyes, irritated that he would even bring that up, but it is Warren, so I expect nothing else. “What do you two fuck heads want?” I ask as I walk over to turn off my iPod so I can hear them better.

“Nothing! Uhm just wanted to see how the best big sister in the world is doing,” Spencer laughs unconvincingly as he attempts to lean casually against my dresser, knocking over my perfume bottles in the process. “Shit,” he mumbles as he picks the plastic bottles up off the floor. I roll my eyes, not believing him for a second. Warren looks at Spencer, scoffs, then looks back at me.

“We want you to buy us beer,” he says flatly with his hands in his pockets. I raise my brows at him, now it’s my turn to scoff.

“You come in my room, give me a heart attack, almost let mom know that I’m smoking, knock over everything on my dresser, then ask me to buy you beer?” I ask, trying to understand why they thought this was a good idea. The boys look at each other then back to me.

“Yes,” they say in unison firmly, but not confidently.

“Get the fuck out,” I sigh. Spencer mutters ‘sorry’ before turning to walk out the door. Warren closes the door behind my brother then looks at me, tilting his head to the side.

“Why are you such a bitch?” The grungy boy asks curiously. I give him a face of disgust.

“Because you go out of your way to piss me off.” I huff, stepping closer to him, sticking a finger into his chest. He smacks my hand away.

“Ew,” Warren gags dramatically. “Don’t touch me,” he mutters before turning around to open my door, flipping me off then closing it behind him.

I plop down on my bed grabbing a nice, soft pillow, then shove it to my face, letting out a blood curdling scream.

‘Why!? What the fuck did I do to deserve this?’ I think to myself. I quite literally feel like I’m back in middle school with: Dumb and Dumber constantly pestering me, Warrens stupid fucking remarks, hiding in my room with my joint, and my parents being disappointed in me. Jesus, this is all such awful déjà vu.

I Take a deep breath, then make my way to the bathroom for a long, hot shower. I walk into the hall bathroom then turn on our shower to warm up the water. I strip down then turn on the shower radio to the local rock station. To my pleasant surprise, they’re playing ‘Scum bag’ by Greenday.

‘Best infomercial purchase mom made this month,’ I think to myself as I lather up my body wash, letting out a content sigh. I finally start to relax.

Knock, knock, knock

“Y/n, I have to piss!” Warren shouts through the door. I groan, flinging the shower curtain open after turning off the water.

“Hold it, Butt-fuck! I just got in,” I shout back in annoyance. He bangs on the door again.

“Just let me in!” His voice is muffled coming through the wood.

“No, Warren!” I huff, wondering how one boy could be so annoying. “Piss outside!” I scream over the music, then turn the water back on and resume my shower. His knocking continues for another minute or two, but he eventually gives up.

I finish my shower in peace then wrap the towel around myself. I quickly run to my room and close the door behind me.

“What the fuck!” I shout when I see warren standing in my closet with his hands behind his back.

“Don’t you know it’s rude not to knock?” he snickers. I scowl at him, holding the short white towel to my body as tight as possible.

“It’s my- What the hell are you doing in here?” I ask exasperated as I step towards him.

“Spencer says you do that nerdy makeup shit for ren fairs or whatever, and I need to borrow your supplies,” he sighs, sounding irritated even though he’s the one snooping though my stuff. I fiddle with my towel, uncomfortable at how his gaze keeps wondering down to where the fabric ends, barely long enough to cover my ass.

“What the fuck do you need that for?” I frown, not understanding why on earth he would need special effects makeup. His eyes follow a trickle of water that drips from my hair down my chest and between my breasts. I shift awkwardly, wishing that this interaction would end already.

“That’s not important,” he steps towards me. “Just let me see what you have,” he says simply with his hands in his pant pockets. I groan in frustration.

“No, you fart-catcher! I just caught you going through my shit, get out!” I scream, stomping my foot in anger, which causes the towel to slide off my breast a bit. I quickly pull it back into place, my cheeks burn pink from embarrassment and anger. Warrens eyes flutter from my chest up to my face, his lips curl into a small smirk.

“Alright,” he shrugs before walking towards my door. With his back to me, he takes his wallet out of his pocket and drops it on the floor. “Y/n,” he tisks, looking at me over his shoulder with that ever familiar mischievous glint in his dark eyes. “Would you pick that up for me? I can’t bend over, I hurt my back at my last game,” he asks with mock sincerity, his gaze focused on how short the towel is. He knows if I bend over my entire ass will be exposed. I look at him with pursed lips, furrowed brows, and bright pink cheeks, letting out an irritated sigh. He grins at how successfully he’s pissed me off.

I stomp over and open my bedroom door, then stomp back to his wallet, kicking it as hard as I can out the doorway and down the steps.

“Get out!” I seethe as I shove the snickering idiot out of my room, locking the door behind me. I groan, flopping down face first onto my bed. I lay there a minute, before deciding to smoke a bowl and get my pajamas on.

I retrieve my bowl and my stash from its old hiding spot behind my bookshelf.

I break up the weed and pack the small bowl, then I realize that I cant find my lighter. I check my bag again, then look around my window and on the floor. I let out a loud groan, kicking my nightstand in anger. My nerves are completely shot, this minor inconvenience is about to send me on a rampage.

With a defeated sigh, I grab a cheap Bic lighter out of my purse. I wouldn’t care so much if it wasn’t my favorite lighter. The silver zippo was a gift from an ex-boyfriend. He had my name engraved on one side and the skull and bat wings from the cover of the Avenged Sevenfolds ‘Waking the Fallen’ album on the other. It’s the single coolest possession I have.

I grab my iPod off the speaker, then hook my headphones into it before climbing out my window onto my roof. With the cheap plastic lighter I take a hit then lay back on the cool shingles, my muscles relaxing as Rob Zombie plays in my ears. I close my eyes as the crescent moon shines her white light down on my face. I take another hit, sighing happily as I get comfortable. Finally, some peace.

‘Hold on,’ I shoot up, furrowing my brow in thought. ‘I dropped my lighter when numbnuts busted into my room. I never picked it up, and when I caught warren in here, he had something behind his back… Warren,’ my epiphany makes my ears burn red.

“Goddamn it Warren!” I shout, completely fed up with his shit, as I clamber back through my window. “Why the fuck is that shit head here all the time,” I mumble to myself as I put my bowl away. I spray some air freshener and close my window before stomping down the hallway, barging into my brothers room. Warren sits by himself in Spencer’s bed, playing some stupid video game on the PlayStation- my brother no where in sight.

“Where is it?” I bellow, standing between warren and the tv like an angry mother. I hold my hand out in front of his face as if the little asshole would just hand it over.

“Dude! Get out of the way!” Warren groans, his eyes not even meeting mine as he uses his foot to scoot me out over, but he knocks me off my balance and I fall directly on top of him.

“Warren!” I squeal, managing to catch myself with my arms on either side of his head. We exchange a shocked look before that stupid, sly smirk creeps onto his face, reminding me that I’m furious at him. “Give me my shit!” I shout in his face, hovering over top of him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he shrugs, his smirk never faltering. This is it. He’s going to make me snap. I grab his shirt pulling his face up to mine, my face flushed In anger.

“I see through your little act,” I say through gritted teeth, almost in a whisper. He looks at me with wide eyes. “You act like you’re hot shit. You think that just because you sell a little green on the side and pocket other peoples shit that you’re a man, but you’re so far from it. You’re just a 19 year old boy who still needs his daddy to wipe his ass for him,” I all but spit into his face, leaning closer with every syllable. His face slowly contorts into pure rage. He stands up from the bed and pushes my back against the wall.

Warrens hostile glare burns deep into my eyes as his hands grip my shoulders so hard that his knuckles turn white. The drywall is cool on my hot skin as warren peers down on me, making me feel so small in his grasp.

“You don’t know shit about me, bitch!” Warren says in a tone that I’ve never heard from him before- he nearly growls at me. This shows that I’ve seriously pissed him off; I smile up at him, unable to hold back the joy- and a bit of excitement - bubbling in my stomach. His lips are pulled in a straight line, nostrils flared and his jaw locked as he grips onto my shirt, making his biceps flex.

“Unfortunately, I know you very well, Warren. Your entire life you’ve been putting up this front of false confidence. Always thinking you’re special, somehow always convincing yourself that the rules don’t apply to you; You’re a pathetic burn out,” I say simply, batting my lashes up at him, enjoying the reaction- and our proximity. His nostrils flare as he pounds his fists on either side of my head.

“You’re the fucking burn out!” He raises his voice, a bit of spit lands on my face as the harsh words drip from his tongue. I reach my hand up, wiping the salvia off.

“Yeah, but I can admit it,” I whisper as I lean up to his flushed face, our noses brushing against each other. I do mu best to ignore the stirring in my stomach when our skin touches. Warren glances down at my lips, his chest still heaving with anger and his arms resting by my head. His angry eyes meet mine. The moonbeam coming through the window illuminates half of warrens face in a white light. I just now notice how much he’s changed. How mature he looks now, especially when he has me backed against the wall with a death grip on my shoulders. He just begins to dip his head down when the bedroom door swings open.

“Sorry man, mom wanted help with- Woah…” Spencer pauses, almost dropping the snacks from his arms. Warren jumps back, the rage on his face replaced with shock as my brother looks between us with a slack jaw. Warren clears his throat awkwardly.

“You need to control your sister, dude,” he gives me a dirty look, walking up and taking a bag of Cheetos from Spencer. I step away from the wall, adjusting my outfit.

‘What the fuck just happened?’

“Uhm, no. Spencer you need to control your friend. He’s a fucking klepto! He took the lighter kyle got for me!” I explain as I point accusingly at Warren who’s already settled into the bed, munching on the junk food

“Oh, you mean the guy that cheated on you?” he asks before he takes a sip out of a two liter of dr. pepper. “Twice,” he adds before letting out a gross belch. I look at him in disgust, then in offense. My ears burn red in anger once again. I let out an irritated grunt as I push past spencer towards the door.

“So it’s no then?” Spencer asks, stopping me in my tracks.

“What?” I ask as I turn to face him. My brother glances between Warren and me.

“You’re not gonna help us?” Spencer asks, looking confused.

“Spencer what the hell are you talking about?” I groan, still upset about what was happened with Warren.

“He didn’t even-“ Spencer scoffs, turning to look at Warren. “You didn’t even ask her?” He asks his friend. Warren just shrugs as he picks up the PlayStation controller.

“For the last time I am not getting you idiots beer,” I groan.

“No! We need your makeup skills,” Spencer explains. Warren stands up from the bed, stomping in disapproval.

“We don’t need her. We just need the makeup,” he groans nudging Spencer a bit. I look at the boys in extreme confusion.

“Explain,” I sigh, rolling my eyes.

“We’re Uhm, doing a project and we were wondering if you could make us look like old men,” Spencer says avoiding eye contact, scratching the back of his neck. He’s acting even weirder than normal.

“Uhm, yeah. Hypothetically I could if I had the proper products,” I say putting my hands on hips, wondering where this conversation is going.

“No. We just need the products we don’t need you,” Warren whines, seeming even more admit on keeping me out of their plans than usual.

“Okay whatever. Give me the money and I’ll get you guys the shit tomorrow evening,” I sigh.

‘I’m such a good big sister’

“Well we have that party with Chas tomo-“ Spencer starts but Warren slaps his hand over my brothers face.

“Party?” My ears perk up.

“No,” Warren says sternly. “We’re not bringing your lame ass to the party of the year,” he groans.

“No party, no makeup,” I shrug, crossing my arms. Spencer pulls Warren’s hand away from his face.

“Deal,” Spencer smiles. Warren gives him a death glare as I skip out of the room.

The next evening I’m stood in front of my closet sifting through my clothes. I have to admit that I’m excited to be getting dressed up. I settle on black denim mini skirt, studded belt and a cropped and distressed Misfits shirt. I take the time to do my makeup, smudging the black pencil liner around my eyes and applying a burgundy lip stick.

“Y/n come on!” I hear Warren shout from outside. I run over and stick my head out my open window.

“I’m coming!” I holler before slamming the glass shut, then shove my smoke bag into my purse.

I hop down the steps, skipping past my mother.

“I’ve never seen you so excited to go somewhere with those two,” my mom attempts a joke as I slip on my beat up converse.

“Free alcohol,” I shrug with a smirk before skipping out the front door.

“Y/n,” my mother’s disappointed voice gets cut off by the heavy wood slamming shut. I giggle to myself as I run to Chas’s car. I hear the door open again and my brothers foot steps approaching behind me.

“Come on guys were so late!” the meat head shouts from the driver’s seat window. My brother and I scramble into the car. Before I realize it, I’m sandwiched in between Warren and spencer with Chas and some nerdy guy in the front.

As I search around for the middle seatbelt, I notice warren staring at me. he’s wearing a white t-shirt that fits him very well with a pair of light, baggy blue jeans. It appears that he even took the time to brush his hair. He almost looks good.

“What?” I scowl at warren, wondering why he’s looking at me like that. He clears his throat, shaking his head a bit as if he didn’t realize he was ogling at me.

“J-just wondering why you let a clown do your makeup,” he laughs. I huff then punch him in the arm as hard as I can, causing warren to scream out.

“See this is-” I start to shout but I’m cut off when Chas whips his steering wheel sharply, sending me flying toppling into warren and causing warren to hit his head on the window.

“Shut up!” Chas groans. Warren and I exchange angry looks as we settle back into our seats, the rest of the ride is quiet.

The house packed full of sweaty college kids bumping and grinding into each other. The smell of alcohol and B.O flood my senses as I shimmy my way through the sea of kids packed in the narrow hallway. I finally make it to the kitchen where a bunch of frat boys are shot gunning beer. Girls surround them, completely wasted but doing their best to root for whichever guy they’re planning on fucking tonight. The loud, shitty, pop music rings through my ears as I step closer to the commotion. A tall blonde guy from the back of the group turns to me, looking me up and down with a grin.

“Hey you want in?” He holds his hand out, offering me a Budweiser. I consider it, but decide that I don’t want to be covered in beer all night.

“Uh, nah,” I nudge his hand away from me. He is cute though. “But I’ll cheer you on,” I smirk, looking up at the random guy, holding up my house key. The boy grins from ear to ear, taking the key out of my hand. He punctures the can before quickly opening the tab, downing the beer almost professionally. I cheer the boy on with words of encouragement. He drops the can to the floor then holds his hands up with a righteous scream, the crowd goes wild. He turns to me, wiping his face then slings his arm over my shoulder.

“Wow, I’m impressed,” I laugh. He adjusts his crooked snap-back as he leads me to the dance floor.

“Yeah you should be,” he chuckles as he guides me through the crowd of dancing bodies.

We dance for a few songs, slowly getting more handsy with each other. As my back bumps against him to the beat of the song, I make eye contact with Warren from across the room. He has a drink in one hand and his other on a girls waist as she kisses on his neck.

To my surprise, rather than looking away, he holds my gaze his he runs his hand down her back, grabbing her ass. I fight back a blush that attempts to creep onto my cheeks by averting my gaze.

‘Disgusting.’ I mentally barf as I turn my back to warren, wrapping my hands around the boys neck, his hands instinctively fall to my hips. He leans closer to my ear as we dance lazily in step with the beat.

“So what’s your name?” the boy shouts over the music.

“Y/n,” I answer, smiling up at him. “What about you, shotgun champion?” I giggle.

“Ethan,” he smiles. “Well, y/n, I’m going to go get you a drink,” he winks. I smile, thanking him. Once I tun back around, I notice that warren and the girl are gone.

‘Damn, that dude moves quick,’ I wonder how he manages to get girls to sleep with him so fast when he’s so insufferable and annoying. I dance by myself for a bit as I await Ethan’s return.

“Here you go,” Ethan smiles, handing me a red solo cup full of what appears to be spiked Hawaiian punch. I smile, thanking him as I accept the sickeningly sweet drink. I hold the plastic to my lips, but before I can take a sip, it’s knocked out of my hands. The cold liquid spills down my shirt before the cup hits the ground.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I hear the familiar tone of Warrens voice shout as he shoves Ethan against the living room wall. Everyone around us stops, turning to see what fight is about to break out. My cheeks burn red in anger and embarrassment.

“Waren what-” I manage to shout in the confusion. “You’re such a fucking asshole!” I shriek, completely fed up with his bullshit. I stomp towards the staircase, all eyes on me as crimson punch drips down my chest and legs. I open every door in the hallway until I find the bathroom.

I slam the door behind me before leaning onto the sink, looking at myself in the mirror. I scream out in frustration, my pulse beating to the bass of the music downstairs.

“What the fuck is wrong with Warren?” I complain to myself as I grab a handful of paper towels, attempting to absorb the drink that has soaked into my outfit. I pause when I hear the doorknob turning behind me. I watch Warrens figure appears in the bathroom mirror.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he steps towards me. His tone.. it almost sounds... concerned. I ignore his possible sincerity and instead throw the sopping wet paper towels at him.

“No, I’m not fucking okay! You ruined my outfit!” I scowl at him. His once concerned expression quickly contorts into the ever familiar annoyed glower he’s always dawning in my presence.

“You’re so fucking stupid y/n!” Warren shouts, stepping closer to me. The yellow lights highlight his clenched jaw. My mouth widens in disbelief.

“Excuse me?” I ask, now pissed off even more. Warren leans back, pushing his hair out of his face then groans in irritation.

“You almost got fucking roofied y/n! I knew that guy was bad news. I happened to be walking past the kitchen when I saw him drop something into your drink!” he explains while pacing in front of me. I roll my eyes, not believing him.

“Oh come on! You expect me to believe that? With your track record, I have every reason to believe that you were just being an immature asshole finding a way to fuck with me,” I step up to him, looking into his eyes that are flooded with frustration.

“Are you fucking- I just saved your ass big time!” Warren shouts, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Oh please,” I roll my eyes, crossing my arms, too angry to look at him. Warren sticks an angry finger in my face.

“You are such an ungrateful fucking brat,” he says lowly, his tone sends chills down my spine. He grips my jaw, turning my head to look up at him. The angry boy glowers down at me, his face just inches from mine. “Say thank you,” he demands through gritted teeth. I roll my eyes once again.

“Fuck. You.” I whisper looking directly into his apoplectic eyes. After a beat, he grips my jaw even harder, yanking may lips to his. I freeze in shock for just a second before returning the instantly bruising kiss. I wrap my arms around his neck, suddenly desperate for his touch. Within seconds, years of pent-up aggression and sexual tension finally comes to a head.

“You piss me off so much,” he growls against my lips as his hands grip my ass so tight it hurts, making me bite back a whimper. “Jump,” his voice comes out a gruff whisper. I obey, jumping to wrap my legs around his waist as he backs me against the wall, his lips never parting from mine. His nails dig into my thighs as he begins to grind against my crotch, the friction making me moan lightly against his lips. Anger and lust course through my veins as I tighten my legs around him, forcing his hips closer to mine. As much as I want to hate this, the truth is that I’ve never wanted any man more than I want warren right now. I’m disgusted with myself, but oh so desperate for the boy I’ve despised most of my life.

“Fuck, I hate how much I want this,” I whine desperately against his lips, pulling away only to slip off my shirt. Warren chuckles before setting me onto my feet. His chest heaves as he strips himself of his white t shirt.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to see you like this,” he says softly, his eyes following his hand as it glides gently over my body. I shiver under his touch as his fingers easily undo my bra, I allow it to fall to the ground. His eyes meet mine as he undoes his belt. “Bend over,” Warren smirks, motioning to the counter top. Biting back a smile, I happily turn around, resting my elbows on the counter. I spread my legs and wiggle my ass, knowing that he has a full view of panties under my mini skirt. I feel his hand push the denim fabric up, then he slides my underwear down my legs, leaving me exposed to him.

“Holy shit,” he groans quietly as he dips a finger into my sopping heat. He drags my slick up to rub circles on my clit. I bite my lip in attempt to hold back a whimper. “Is it me that you’re this wet for, or do you just have some weird degradation kink?” he asks as he slips a finger in my entrance, I gasp at the contact.

“Oh shut the-“ I begin, but cut myself off with a loud moan as his hand comes down harshly on my ass, the slap rings through the bathroom.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he laughs as he slips another finger in, pumping faster. His other hand brushes over the stinging handprint left on my ass. I whimper at how good it hurts.

I hate how right he is. I hate how much he’s enjoying this. I hate how he knows exactly where to curl his fingers inside me to earn the loudest moan. “Mm that’s the prettiest sound that’s ever come out of your mouth,” he chuckles as he reaches his other hand around to toy with my clit. I arch my back, biting my lip in an attempt to keep the symphony of pleasure from spilling from my mouth. I’m trying desperately not give him the satisfaction of praise, but it’s proving to be impossible.

“You’re such a dick,” I say lowly, unable to think of a good comeback as my eyes flutter shut, that familiar tension in my stomach building.

Warren pulls away completely, leaving me feeling empty and irritated. I stand up with a frown, spinning around to yell at him, but he grabs my arm and my waist, repositioning me back over the counter.

“Uh uh,” he chuckles using one hand to grip my hair, holding my head up so that I can see him in the mirror. With the other hand, he drops his pants and boxers, giving his- much larger than expected- length a few good bumps. My knees buckle at the sight behind me. “You’re gonna stay just like this and watch me fuck you,” he growls as he uses his foot to kick my legs a bit further apart. I watch his reflection as he brings his fingers up to his mouth, spitting on them before spreading the slick gently over my folds. As he lines his length up with my entrance, he holds my gaze through the mirror, sliding into me slowly. He lets out a loud groan, his grip on my hair tightening.

The way that he fills me up is unlike any other. Squeezing my eyes shut, I do my best to hold back my whimpers as I adjust to his size. He gives me only a few seconds before he starts slamming into me.

“Fuck!” I scream in shock as I clasp my hands over my mouth. Warrens strong grip is soon ripping my fingers away from my face.

“Now You’re want to be quiet? After all the times I’ve told you shut this pretty mouth of yours…” he grabs my cheeks, sticking a finger in my mouth as he rams his cock into me. “Now you want to hold back?” He lets out a devilish chuckle, before slapping my ass even harder than last time. He uses my hair to pull my head up making sure that I’m watching him.

His strong grip holds tightly onto my hair and my waist, making the veins very prominent in his arms. His toned torso glistens in a thin sheet of sweat as his hips buck mercilessly into me. My toes curl when I see the way he’s watching me. His eyes are dark with lust as they study every feature of my body in the mirror. His jaw hangs slack, but there’s a never faulting smirk on his face as if this is something he’s been waiting on for a while.

He releases my hair to reach down and rub figure eights onto my sensitive bundle of nerves. That and they way that he’s hitting the perfect spot with every deep thrust and the way he looks at me is enough to send me over the edge.

“Fuck! Warren!” I moan out in such a pathetic tone that I can’t believe it came from my own mouth. My legs begin to shake and breathing becomes shallow as I clench around him.

“That’s it baby. Scream my name in pleasure for a change,” he growls in my ear. My eyes are clenched shut, but I can hear the smirk in his voice. If the music wasn’t playing 100 decibels over OSHA standards and every single person wasn’t black out drunk, I might be concerned that someone might hear us.

“Oh god… fuck Warren! I’m cumming please don’t stop! Just like that please!” My words come out a desperate whine with each breath punctuated by his hips thrusting into me as I come undone around him. My legs give out as pure euphoria floods my system. My eyes roll back in my head as Warren holds me up with help from counter.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he grunts out, his thrusts becoming sloppy and erratic as low growls and moans slip out between his heavy breaths.

Warren pulls out of me as I lay with my head down on the cool counter trying to collect my thoughts. I feel him release onto my back. The warm seed dripping down my ass as strings of profanities fall from Warrens kiss bruised lips.

“Holy shit,” he pants out in a whisper. I hold my head up to see him in the mirror behind me, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. His chest rising and falling quickly as he wipes sweat from his forehead. As if he could feel me looking, he opens his eyes. That stupid fucking smirk quickly returning on his flushed face. He watches his cum drip down my ass and onto the floor. He silently walks to the toilet paper, then- to my surprise- he cleans me up. Silently, with a content smile, he wipes himself off me.

“Uh, thanks,” I say shyly with a bit of red creeping up to my cheeks. I find my underwear and slip them back on as Warren puts his pants on.

“Don’t mention it,” he winks, very obviously proud of himself.

“So uhm,” I start as I slide my dress back on. I don’t even know how to act; I feel so awkward and it’s pissing me off how casual Warren is being. “Do we just chalk this up to the alcohol?” I rub my neck awkwardly as Warren pulls his shirt over his head. He lets out a light laugh.

“Well I’m not drunk. Are you?” He asks, already knowing the answer. I shake my head no as find my sticky, stained skirt and step into it. Warren chuckles, walking up behind me looking at our reflections in the mirror. “Well, on the bright side I made your make look better,” he laughs with a wink, motioning at the mascara running down my face and burgundy lipstick smudged around my mouth.

“Oh fuck off!” I huff, shoving him. He slaps my ass one last time before opening the door and stepping out. I look at myself in the mirror, waiting for the feeling of disgust to overcome my body… but it never comes. As I wet a paper towel and attempt to make my face look presentable, I can’t help but smile. The smile turns to a giggle. The giggle turns to a loud laugh. I cannot begin to explain or even understand what I’m feeling, but pure joy is bubbling through my body. It must be some kind of weird post nut clarity.

I grab my purse then step out the door, expecting Warren to be gone, but to my pleasant surprise, he’s leaning over the banister right outside the bathroom.

“What are you doing?” I ask as I step up beside him, assuming the same position.

“Trying to spit in people’s drinks,” he says flatly, not looking my way before a blob of spit falls from his mouth, landing on some random girls forehead. She looks around in drunken confusion, unable to identify the source. “Hey bonus points,” he laughs, turning to me with his hands held up in victory. I roll my eyes, but I’m unable to hide the smile that creeps onto my face.

“I uhm- I think I’m gonna walk home. I need a shower,” I tell him awkwardly. I’m so unsure of how to act now and him being so normal isn’t helping.

“Oh, I’ll walk you,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets. I look at him in confusion.

“What?” I ask, unsure if I heard him correctly.

“I’m going to walk you home, dumbass,” he shrugs taking step, expecting me to follow behind him- I do, of course.

We push through the crowds of dancing kids and out the front door. My ears ring as we step out onto the empty street, the silence is quite the change from the loud frat party behind us.

We walk in almost comfortable silence. My house is about a 40 minute walk away, but it seems so much shorter as I’ve been using the time to sort out my emotions- which I’m not having much success with.

I grab my cell phone out of my pocket, texting Spencer that I’m headed home so that he doesn’t worry.

“Who are you texting?” Warren asks simply as if he’s been trying to find something to start a conversation. He pulls a pack of menthols out of his pocket, holding the box towards me. I smile, taking one of the sticks and popping it into my mouth.

“Spencer. I figure I should let him know where I went,” I explain as we walk down the dim and empty sidewalk. The cool late summer air makes the orange flame flicker in the wind as it illuminates Warrens face in the evening dusk. The end of his cigarette glows a dark crimson as he lets out a puff of smoke. He stops, then looks down at me as he rests his fingers on my cheek, his other hand bringing the lighter up to my cigarette. I stare up at him, admiring how the orange light highlights his handsome features. The flame reflects in his dark eyes that are fixated on my lips. I breath in, igniting the cig.

“Thanks,” I smile, exhaling through my nose as we resume our walk.

“Ya know, I really did save your life back there,” Warren grins with a nudge from the same hand that’s holding his cigarette.

“You actually saw that dude slip something in my drink?” I ask, looking at him with raised brows.

“Yep. That girl I was dancing with was leading me up to one of the bedrooms when I saw the douche go into the kitchen. The dude looked the type, so I followed him in there, sure enough as he was walking away from the table, he slipped a tablet in your cup,” he shrugs as he takes a long drag.

It takes me a minute to process his words. It seems that he was actually looking out for me.

“But… Why? I thought you hated me. Now you’re saying that you left a hot girl who was trying to get in your pants just to make sure I was safe,” I ask. That seriously doesn’t sound like the Warren I know. Then again, I wouldn’t have expected the Warren I know to dick me down at a frat party either.

“Y/n I obviously don’t hate you. And even if I did, I still wouldn’t have let that guy drug you. I’m not that kind of guy,” he says, sounding a bit offended that I thought that of him. I’m seeing a part of Warren tonight that I had no idea existed. We approach my house, tossing our cigarette butts in the trash can beside the mailbox.

“No, I know, Warren,” I smile downwards, looking away from his stern gaze. “You’re actually a pretty good guy,” I laugh nervously. He grins as he leans against his car that’s parked on the curb right outside my home.

“I’m really glad you said that right now. I’m also glad that since I saved you, we’re even,” he smiles as he walks around to his driver door, reaching into his pocket. I stand on the sidewalk, looking at him confused.

“What Are You-“ he tosses me something, I instinctively catch it, clamping it between my two hands. I raise an eyebrow, almost afraid to see what’s in my hands. Warren chuckles as he gets in his car, starting it up as his radio starts blaring his ‘The Offspring’ CD.

I bend forward, he rolls down the passenger window. I look down into my hands to see my favorite lighter broken. The top of the zippo snapped off from the base. My expression falls, rage flooding my senses.

“Warren!” I scream, more pissed off at him then I’ve ever been. He quickly reminded me of why it is that I hate him so much.

“Yeah, my bad,” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “You should really keep your stuff picked up off the floor,” he shrugs. I can’t even form a sentence right now. I knew this dumbass took my lighter. “Now get inside so I can leave,” he says motioning with his hand towards the door. I’m so shocked and exhausted- physically and emotionally- from tonight’s events that I just turn and leave. My face still contorted in anger, I silently walk up the steps and into my house.

Out of curiosity, I glance out the window at Warren. He waits a couple seconds after I shut the door to pull out of his parallel parking spot. I sigh, leaning against the door.

This was the strangest night of my life

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