#on another note. It is very funny for her to go hey. these fuckers probably have something. Maybe should check that out

[bellflower-goat]

:]]

[bubblegumbarbie33]

A Big Post of Funny Incorrect Quotes The Lost Boys (1987) edition

Paul: Ahhh, lying, one of the oldest tricks in the book. besides smashing someone over the head with a rock.

-

Michael, prying David's body off of the antlers: Free my man he did all of it but I don't care.

-

Paul: Diversity win! I'm bisexual and I'm going to kill you!

-

David: With all due respect, which is none-

-

Dwayne: She was poetry, but he couldn't read.

Paul: His name was Jared, he's nineteen.

Marko: When his parents built a very strange machine.

Star: Watch that scene digging the dancing queen.

Laddie: Ayyyy macarena.

David: Horrible job everyone.

-

Michael, as David blows smoke in his face: bro watch out you kinda sound like you're flirting when we argue

-

Paul: What's that mouth do?

Marko: Complain.

-

Paul: Psst. Hey. Fucker. *kisses Marko* Idiot.

Michael, taking notes: Hey sweetheart!!! Hey dear!!! *fucking decks David in the face* Angel!!! :)

-

David, glaring at Michael: Stop forgiving my crimes I worked so hard on those.

-

Marko, staring at human Paul in the club: He's got that neglected shelter dog rizz. He looks like he wants to quietly sit next to you on the couch while you watch TV.

Dwayne, nodding along: He looks like he lets out a sad little sigh sometimes for no reason.

-

Laddie: hmmm... *gets in evil bed and holds his evil stuffed animal* evil night... *turns off his fucked up evil lamp*

-

Michael: "I could fix him" good for you i guess. i could be the only thing he's truly afraid of.

-

Star, shaking her head and looking at Michael: They wanted him dead for his sad brown eyes and his slut waist.

-

Marko, standing confidently over a pile of dead bodies: They hate to see a boytoy winning.

-

Dwayne, watching Michael and David stare angrily and also hornily at one another: Gay sex would not fix this situation. honestly, it'd probably make it worse. that being said I think we should give it a shot anyway.

[lunar-wandering]

me? making my own Monkie Kid roleswap/personality swap AU??? haha, no way.....unless-

anyways I do not have a name for this AU yet but I do have content lets go-

---

- Red Son runs a coffee shop, and befriends literally every person that enters the building. (his parents support this endeavor and supply him with money.) *gives him a light green jacket instead of a red one. hksdfjsfkjs he got them christmas tree vibes-*

- MK started working part time in Red’s coffee shop about 2 months ago, and has been shyly starting to warm up to being Red Son and Mei’s friend. *light lavender jacket + yellow headband*

- Mei doesn’t have a motorbike, because she’s trying to separate herself from her parent’s money. She just has a normal bike instead. *SOFT PINK JACKET TO LIGHTLY CONTRAST WITH THE GREEN IN HER HAIR HELL YEAH-*

- Mei and Red Son have known each other for a while, and they’re both doing a kinda.. vigilante thing together, defeating rogue demons... while also protecting the Monkey King’s staff from being taken, as it currently seals the White Bone Spirit.

- Mei tends to do most of the heroing stuff, while Red Son does more of the tech stuff. Red built Mei’s hero suit and gadgets, he very rarely actually goes out and fights himself.

- Sandy is the one who actually owns the building Red’s coffee shop (and secret underground hero lab) is in, and supports them in their efforts. He treats their injuries if needed.

- MK has no idea about any of this.

- MK lives with Tang and Pigsy, who are both history professors at the local university. Pigsy sometimes drops by the coffee shop to tell a story or two, Tang is typically too busy working to come along.

- one day, Mei and Red Son get a notification that “Monkey King’s staff has been pulled” and they’re both like “uh, thats probably not good” and then they show up at the location, to find the WBS is already gone and-

- MK is there. holding the staff.

- Mei: what do you have?!

  MK: ......Monkey King’s Staff.....

  Mei: NO!

  Red Son: oh my gods, why does he have Monkey King’s staff-

- “it uh..... it felt like the staff was calling me” “that is NOT a good reason to pick up an IMMENSELY POWERFUL ITEM”

- MK: so like....where you ever going to tell me you two are heroes?

  Mei: we’ve literally tried to on multiple occasions. you kept leaving before we could tell you.

 MK, remembering all the times they looked like they wanted to have a serious conversation so he got nervous and made up an excuse and left: ha ha... i don’t know what you’re talking about

- when they bring up this problem to Sandy, he just sighs and goes “i figured this would happen eventually....guess we gotta go see my brother”

- they dont even manage to make it to the mountain because Wukong bursts into the room like “which one of you fuckers lifted the staff. you? alright, you’re my successor now you bitch.”

- Wukong’s reason for wanting a successor? “hey, it means i can just sit back and relax for once and not do anything instead of fighting all those fucking demons. wait, what do you mean i have to train him-”

- Wukong is forced by literally everyone else into training MK. he’s not happy about it but begrudgingly accepts the responsibility.

- Wukong: aren’t you tired of being nice? dont you just wanna go apeshit?

   MK: not really no

- Wukong tries not to get attached but oh fuck he mentally considers MK as his son now-

- Red Son: its nice to see that yet another person cares about MK

  Wukong: *(offended sputtering)* wh- i do n- I don’t care about anybody. In fact, I care about nobody.

  Red Son, to MK: so when were you going to tell me you changed your name to Nobody-

- Pigsy and Tang refer MK to a therapist. It’s Macaque. Macaque is a therapist. yes this decision is 100% purely because i think it’s funny.

- MK: Macaque you will not believe what happened today

  Macaque, pulling out his note book and sipping on a black coffee: tell me all about it.

  MK: I’ve become the Monkey King’s successor-

 Macaque: you’ve wHAT

- Macaque, breaking down Wukong’s door: were you going to tell me you adopted a kid, or was I just supposed to find that out by myself

 Wukong: I did not adopt MK! geez, why does everyone keep saying that....

 Macaque: I never said which kid it was.

- Macaque goes HOG WILD with this information, and this is how MK finds out that. oh. his therapist Macaque is THE Macaque. interesting.

- Macaque stops by the coffee shop a few days after this discovery like;

  Macaque: hey, do you kids want to hear some embarrassing stories about Wukong?

 MK: i mean, that might be kinda rude-

 Mei and Red Son: yes, we absolutely want to hear them, please tell us all of them

- Pigsy and Macaque take turns telling stories about Wukong, and when Wukong inevitably walks in on them doing so he grabs the item closest to him (a salt shaker) and just chucks it at them. Pigsy takes that as his cue to leave while Wukong proceeds to chase Macaque around the coffee shop.

- Wukong: *(teases MK a little too much)*

  MK: *(looks like he’s about to cry)*

  Wukong: oh gods, oh fuck, shit, jeez, come on kid don’t cry, oh no, hold on-

- if MK actually does start crying Wukong starts crying too and its like;

  MK: WHY ARE YOU ALSO CRYING?

  Wukong: I don’t know- I mean, I’m not crying.

- forgot to say this earlier but MK gets brought into Mei and Red Son’s little heroing gig! Red Son designs a costume for him and everything. (Not that MK ever actually remembers to wear it....)

- MK never actually talks about what really happened the night he pulled the staff, accidentally freeing the White Bone Spirit. If asked, he laughs nervously and changes the subject.

- at some point, this happens.

  WBS: I brought the boy to his destiny.

  Red Son: you fucked up a perfectly good MK is what you did. look at him. he’s got anxiety.

[everlarkficexchange]

Clubbing 101

Written by @alliswell21

Prompt 144: She has a night of fun before the start of the semester. She meets this guy, they hit it off that they sleep together. But when she shows up to her class the next day, she sees the guy again. But he’s her professor and he’s way older than she originally thought. #olderPeeta [submitted by @animekpopxx]

Rating: Explicit. NSFW. 

Tags and Warnings: Canon Divergence; College!AU; Age gap, older man/younger woman; The opposite to slow burn? Smut; Unprotected sex; technically impaired consent since alcohol, but their both into each other while sober too 🤷🏻‍♀️; Ethical dilemmas; Teacher/Student relationship (sort of); One Shot, with an ambiguous open ending? Almost 10K words. Unbetaed. 

Notes: Thank you to the moderators once more for putting up with us, procrastinating writers. You gals are saints! Thank you to @animekpopxx for her amazing prompts that never fail to snag my attention and give me the best ideas ever! You rock! I projected this story to be a smutty short thing, but it sprouted words and a background out of nowhere and I had to forced myself to stop adding to it, to get back to my other submissions waiting in my docs. Hopefully, it’s a good read for the ones who take the chance with it. 

Thank you all! 

KPKPKPKPKP

It starts with a harmless ranting. 

“I’m not outgoing, or fun. I’m not even ‘cool’… hell, I don’t care what my sister says, I’m too old for this place!” I tell the handsome, bearded, guy sitting in the barstool next to me, “She’s a med student, you know, but she insists that partying is part of the college experience, especially when one’s career is so demanding… plus, is the last weekend of summer break, which apparently means you’re contractually obligated to party extra hard,” I roll my eyes, “I never saw the appeal personally, but I let her drag me out here so I can keep an eye on her. Is not like I’m gonna let her piss away her future for a night of clubbing,” I scoff, taking a long pull of my beer.

The guy chuckles, but I’m not done just yet. 

I slam down my bottle and continue listing my grievances, “The thing that grinds my gears, is that she begged for a ‘girls’ night out’, and instead of drinking with me and people watch, she goes off with the first fucker that asks her to dance! I mean… did it ever occur to her, I may want to dance with her on OUR girls’ night out?!” I scowl and gulp another mouthful of beer, “then, to add insult to injury, thirty minutes later I get a text from her, saying to go on home without her ‘cause she found a ride, followed by that cursed eggplant emoji, like I needed an illustration of what kind of ride she’s getting,” I mock gag, rearranging the strap of my tiny purse across my chest. 

 “I guess she’s young, and beautiful, and does work very hard, but if you invite me to go clubbing with you, don’t abandon me within the first 15 minutes of arriving!”

My companion winces before sipping his drink, and smiling ruefully, “That’s harsh… sorry you’re having a shitty night,”

“Meh… little sisters, right?!” I shrug. 

The guy smiles crookedly at me, and I find myself enjoying his smile, “I wouldn’t know about that. I’m the baby of three brothers, and the only thing I got away with was learning how to wrestle and spring awesome comebacks on the fly… the brutes kept me on my toes,” he chuckles. 

“Three boys? Sounds chaotic. Your poor mother!” 

“Yeah… life’s chaotic.” He averts his eyes for a second, his smile goes away. I’m afraid I’ve said something wrong, but he suddenly looks back at me, and confesses, “I’m not into clubbing either.” His eyes sparkle, despite the awful, dim, blue lights bathing the place. 

I smile, “Look at us wallflowers, bonding over drinks and sibling shenanigans,” we clink our drinks together and sip. I’m chatty and relaxed, so unlike myself; I guess the two beers I’ve had are starting to get to me. “I’m Katniss, by the way.”

“That’s pretty,” he says, shyly; makes my chest warm up. “Nice to meet you, Katniss. I’m Peeta.”

I arch my eyebrows, “Peter?” I repeat, because I’m pretty sure I miss-heard him over the obnoxiously loud music. 

The guy shakes his head, “Pee-ta… like the bread?” He chuckles. Then adds, “Family name. Everyone on my dad’s side are bakers.” 

I snort-laugh, “Punny!” I say, taking another sip. Yup, beer’s getting to me, I’m not this cleverly funny. “My dad was into survivalism and botany… I’m named after a plant also known as Duck Potato, so I win the weird name competition!” 

“Hey, it’s something else to bond over,”

“Cheers to that!” We clink our drinks again, and partake in our booze. 

He orders another whiskey neat when he’s out… sounds both snooty and distinguished at the same time. Goes well with his put together image, though: nicely trimmed beard, nicely combed hair, nice polo shirt with what I believe is a tiny loaf of bread embroidered on the chest, and dark-wash jeans… I think. It’s hard to tell under the black lights of the club. 

He offers to get me another drink, and I order an appletini.

“J.D. from Scrubs always drank one,” I explain, swirling the coctel in my hand, “I’ve always been curious to try, but didn’t wanna spend my own money experimenting on a drink I could potentially hate.” 

“Makes sense,” Peeta says, “So… what’s the verdict?” 

“Is pretty good, actually. But I think I’ll stick with my Miller Light,” 

Peeta nods, “I honestly don’t enjoy alcohol that much.”

I giggle. “Then, what brings you to this fine establishment tonight, sir, if you’re not much for clubbing, or drinking?” I watch him out of the corner of my eye. 

I like that when he smiles, his eyes crinkle in the corners.

“I lost a bet against a colleague.”

“Oh,” I’m suddenly self conscious and a little uncomfortable. I give the guy a scrutinizing look, and ask suspiciously, “what was the punishment exactly?” 

The man rolls his eyes. “I have to spend one whole hour in the club, without criticizing anything, like the bitter old man I am,” he grins, “My friend’s words. Not mine!” He raises both hands, claiming innocence. 

I laugh at the face he pulls, “Well, you’ve just defaulted on that punishment,”

“How so?” He beams. 

“With the look in your face! It spoke volumes!” 

“Am I that transparent?” 

“You read like a preschooler’s board book, pal!” 

We both laugh, I drink my beer, and he throws back his whiskey neat. 

“So…” he makes a show of looking at his watch, “I still have 33 minutes to kill before I’m allowed to run out of this place… I know I’m not a Med student, co-Ed, sister of yours, but… would you, um, like to dance with me?” He sounds adorably hopeful. 

I glance at the man sideways, toying with my bottle. 

He smirks, mischievously, “I promise, spirits make me more coordinated on the dance floor. I become this amazing dancer when I have a couple of drinks on… or so my brain believes. I probably look like an idiot, but I’m too goofy to know the difference. You’re welcome to be the judge it for yourself,”

I take my sweet time finishing the last dregs of my beer, and wrinkle my nose, “You sure you wanna dance to this shit, kids call music nowadays?” I smirk, pointing a finger up, motioning wide circles into the ether. 

Peeta gives a full belly laugh.

I really do like his laugh! 

“Isn’t it our only choice?” He ventures. 

Not if you follow me home, my thirsty brain supplies; my lips on the other hand, just let through a hint of a smile, because I’m buzzed, but not drunk enough to proposition a total stranger. I’ve never been one to sleep around anyway.

“Okay,” I say, too enthused. “As long as we both agree that this isn’t music,”

“Oh no, this just barely passes as noise!” Peeta agrees readily. 

He guides me to the packed dance floor, and we start moving to the booming, deafening tunes playing overhead. 

I’m not sure if one could call this dancing. Everywhere I look people are writhing against each other, like a pack of zombies without grace or rhyme. 

I’m not sure Peeta will get an accurate assessment of his dancing skills, compared to what I’m seeing, he’ll probably look like a professional; plus, it’s too dark and busy in here to really appreciate anything, really, but after a few minutes of just shifting in place, robotically, I snatch two bottle beers from a waitress walking by, offering one to my partner, hoping that’s enough to get us loosen up. The waitress stares at me until I rummage on my crossbody mini purse and toss a crumple ten on her tray. 

The liquid boost works. Before I know it, I’m grinding my hips against his. Peeta’s just the right height for his thigh to fit between my legs and brush against my front. I get tired of undulating my arms in the air, so I drop them around his shoulders, and feel just how firm and broad he is under my touch. 

Our chests are tightly pressed together, and I’m at the right angle to just stare at his plush-looking lips. I turn around before I do something brash, like kiss him in the mouth. Peeta doesn’t question it, he just places his hands on my hips, and starts moving to the music’s beat. 

I bring the beer to my lips, but the bottle’s empty… oops! It doesn’t matter, I’m having the time of my life! 

Peeta’s swaying guides me. I basically drape my back over his front, and bump my ass into his groin. I feel the hint of a bulge there, and press my rear into it  again, just to confirm if I felt what I hope I felt. 

Peeta’s fingers tighten on my hip, emboldening me to keep going until I’m practically twerking into him, and his slight bulge morphs into a full blown hard-on. 

I twist in his arms to face him, my lust idled brain barely thinking rationally, “Are your 33 minutes done yet?” I yell into his ear, so he can hear me over the noise. 

He doesn’t even look at his watch, “To hell with time! I‘ll stay here all night, if you want me to,” He answers loudly. 

“Come on, then!” I push off his chest, and snatch up his hand before he can reply. 

Leaving the dance floor is surprisingly easily, considering the crowd bouncing in place together. 

I make no conscious plan on where we’re going; I’m arguably familiar with the layout of this place from my many visits since Prim turned 21; I’m only mildly surprised when we navigate across the club, all the way to the restrooms. It’s like my clit is making all the decisions tonight… good for it! 

There’s a line of disgruntled women waiting to get inside the Ladies Room, but the Men’s Room is available, and Peeta lets me guide him into it, like one of those pull toys children have. 

“It stinks in here,” I comment blandly, but make a beeline for the last stall with a door. 

There’s one guy at the urinal, but he doesn’t even look up from his pants, so I just shrug it off and yank Peeta into the stall with me. 

The space is tight, but once inside the stall, I push Peeta into the door, and attack his mouth. 

He makes a startled noise at the back of his throat, but his hands and arms immediately press me into his body more fully. My own hands trek down to his belt, where I fiddle with the buckle until it’s undone, and I can access his pants’ button and fly. 

He hisses when my fingers graze his warm erection, and bucks into my knuckles. I’m in the process of sticking my hand inside his boxers, when Peeta growls, sucking my lower lip into his mouth, and letting it go with a wet pop.

“Switch places,” he pants against my mouth, and hoists me up, until my back hits the door and his hands grab my hips possessively, jutting my pelvis forward, “I’m hungry, would you mind if I eat you out?” 

“Okay,” I gasp.

Thank you for forcing me to wear your tiny, clubbing dress, Prim! 

“You’ll allow it?” He asks, incredulous, rubbing circles on my hips with his thumbs. 

“Yes… I’ll allow it!”

His smile is sexy, his stare is hypnotic. Damned my drunken ass! I can’t believe I’m willing to do this in a smelly bathroom stall!

Peeta sits on the toilet and licks his lips while staring up at me. His hands disappear under the stretchy material of my skirt, bumping my purse out of his way. He skims his fingers under the elastic of my panties, and I bite my lip, nodding eagerly.

Slowly, Peeta slides my underwear down my legs, the tips of his fingers follow, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. It’s the most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced!

Once he brings my panties to my knees, his hands rush back up my thighs, pushing the flimsy skirt around my waist. My underwear drops to my ankles on their own. 

Peeta’s level eye with my crotch, and I squirm restlessly. “Beautiful… absolutely soaked,” he whispers in a daze, he inhales pulling me closer, “You smell divine!” He descends, nose first, into the thatch of dark curls between my thighs, making me moan. He ruts his face against me, and suddenly drops to his knees, grabbing my calf to pull my leg up. 

But the movement gets prevented by my stupid underwear, tangled in my ankles. Without missing a beat, I toe my panties off, so Peeta can maneuver my body however he wants. 

He drapes my leg over his shoulder, opening me up to his ravenous mouth. He grunts, burying his face into my core, and finally, FINALLY, his tongue swipes between my folds.

“Fuck!” I squeak. 

My hands fly to tangle into his soft, perfectly coiffed hair. I nearly smother him, holding his face to my pussy, but he’s doing wicked things to me with his tongue: lapping, sucking, and nipping at my labia; drawing number eight figures around my clit with the tip of his tongue, to then sinking it deep inside my core. I can’t stop bucking into his mouth over and over.

When was the last time I was given head? Fuck if I know! Darius probably, he was decent, but didn’t do it often. And Thom was so boring at it, I actually preferred he didn’t do it. But this guy is amazing! A real expert in the matter! 

“I’m so close! Please… I’m so close,” I wail like a cat in heat, writhing against the door. 

Peeta looks up, and despite the horrendous lighting in the room, I realize he’s got the deepest blue eyes I’ve ever seen… too bad I can’t hold his gaze too long, because he starts rubbing my clit with his thumb, while fucking my hole with his tongue, and is all I can do not shout and scalp him in my delirium.

He doesn’t stop drinking my juices while I convulse above him. On the contrary, he retrieves his thumb, but keeps his mouth busy, lapping away all the slick I give him.

It’s too much.

I tug on his hair to pull him off of my sensitive privates. 

Peeta takes one last lick with the flat of his tongue and looks up at me, smiling wolfishly, “Was that good?” His beard’s dripping with me, he wipes some of it off on his sleeve. 

I snort, unsexy and definitely rude. “You made me cum so hard I saw stars… yeah, it was good. Better than good, really!” I smile down at him, and try to pull him off from the floor. 

All the gel holding his curls in place is gone now, rubbed off on my palms. His hair is sticking up on the top and towards the back of his head. I reach up to try and smooth it back, “I’m sorry, I seem to have made a mess of your hair,” I giggle. It’s adorable, but I feel bad that I ruined it. 

“You can mess my hair any time you want, Katniss.” He says, almost shyly, he places his hands on my waist, over the bunched up dress. 

It’s a big turn on to me, how his words are so flirty, but he delivers them so sweetly and awed. Is unexpected and endearing… which is odd, because I don’t usually find people endearing at all!

We both chuckle. 

He licks his lips, and I feel heat pool in my lower belly again. 

“Come’ere!” I wrap my hand around his nape, and pull his lips to mine. 

He responds immediately, licking the seam of my mouth. I suck on his tongue when he slides it against mine. 

He moans. 

“Fuck me, Peeta,” I rasp into the kiss, palming his dick through his jeans. 

He groans, “Are you sure?” He barely holds back another groan when I squeeze his clothed erection.

“Cock. In me. Now!” I command through gritted teeth, trying to pull his cock out of his pants with one hand, while taking his hand, and splaying it on my boob. 

“Okay… shit… this is… surreal! This has never happened to me before!” He kneads my tit, gently.

I’m not sure I was supposed to hear that, so I pretend I didn’t and turn, facing the door to wiggle my ass, in an attempt to convince him. 

Peeta makes a noise in his throat, quickly followed by the sound of shifting clothes, and a metallic thump from his belt buckle hitting the toilet. 

I whine when Peeta’s warm, heavy cock caressed my bare ass cheek. “Please don’t tease me,” I beg.

“Fuck, Katniss… do you really want this?”

“Yes, Peeta… put your cock inside my cunt, and fuck me all the way to next week! Now!” 

His warm body cocoons mine, “Anything you want, sweetheart,” he whispers into my ear, and I feel the blunt head of his cock parting my folds, coating himself with my natural lubricants.

He finds my entrance, pushing inside just the tip. He gasps, “Fuck!” One big hand wraps around my hip to keep me steady, bracing his other arm on the door, above my head. 

“Peeta… Please!” I wiggle my ass, making him sink another inch deep. 

“Hold still,” He hisses, “I’m trying to hold back… not ramming in too roughly… embarrassing myself, cumming too fast,” His hot breath warms my nape. “You feel like heaven!” He growls, tightening his hold on me. 

I’m torn, wishing he’d drill into me without mercy already, while another part of me is grateful he’s trying to stay under control… I don’t know which I want more… 

When was the last time I had sex? 

As if reading my thoughts, Peeta shares haltingly, “It’s been such a long time for me. I want it to last, but I’m

Not sure if I can,” 

I don’t have time to second guess myself, because Peeta’s moving, and he’s massive! 

“Don’t hold back!” I bleat, “I want it rough… I want it fast!” I gasp, clenching down on him. I paw at the door for purchase, trying not to face-plant on the cold, hard surface, while Peeta’s fat prick stretches me to the brink of pain! I can’t stay put for him any longer; I buck into him.

“I said to hold still!” He slaps my ass, hard. It stings, but it’s a welcomed feeling. 

I moan and melt, finally relaxing enough for him to penetrate me all the way to the hilt. He stays there a moment, breathing harshly into my neck, squeezing my hip on and off. 

“You’re so tight. So warm. So wet, Katniss.” He nuzzles my ear, “I’m gonna move now, I apologize beforehand in case this ends too soon for you…” He drags himself slowly out of me, just to plunge right back in with a swift, hard thrust. 

I squeak; he grunts.. 

Peeta holds me by the waist,  “You’re so pretty and sexy, Katniss. I can’t decide if you’re real, or the most vivid wet dream I’ve ever had…” he’s fucking me like a jackrabbit in rut.

I’m speechless, vaguely wondering if I didn’t dream him instead?

His cock head hits a spot deep inside me I’ve never reached before. I start babbling nonsense— mostly praising his cock and his strength— I don’t really know what I’m saying, but he seems to be enjoying it thoroughly by the increase in his speed and the volume of his grunts. 

I’m joisted up and down his shaft like a rag doll; I wish I’d thought of hanging my stupid little purse somewhere before we started, because now it’s bumping on my thighs, distracting me from the great ducking I’m getting; it’s no matter… I can feel my orgasm building in my belly.

“I’m gonna cum, sweetheart… I want you to cum too,” He nibbles on my earlobe. 

“Yes, Peeta! Please make me cum, I’m so close!”

One of his hands slides around my waist to play with my clit, while his other tweaks my nipples over my dress and bra. That, added to the sensation of my g-spot being prodded repeatedly, sends me spinning over the edge.

I must’ve screamed or something, because he clamps his hand over my mouth, and then he’s grunting, digging his forehead between my shoulder blades, and pulling me back against his unyielding body. 

“Fuck…” he gasps and shivers behind me. I feel his dick pulsing, his rhythm faltering, and then he goes still. 

Peeta sags a little, wedging his shoulder into the door to keep from falling. I’m surprised he still has the strength to hold me up too; I have to be dead weight at this point, since my legs feel like overcooked noodles and my arms gave out a minute ago.

We both try to catch our breaths, too spent and weak for much more, at least for a few minutes.

Peeta stirs. “Are you okay?” He breathes out, ruffling the loose wisps of my hair with his breath. 

I chuckle, leaning my sweaty temple on the cool door. “I can’t feel my toes… which is excellent!”

“Good,” he sighs. 

Three heart beats later, he straightens up and pulls out of me. An indecent amount of spend flows down my legs as soon as his cock dislodges from my pussy, but Peeta shoves something soft between my thighs quickly, before I have time to freak out about the mess.

I look down mildly curious, staring at an embroidery of a tiny loaf of bread. Vaguely, I wonder if that’s his uniform? He said he was a baker, right? At least he’s named after bread or something. I giggle. “Is this your shirt?” I ask, widening my stance to gracelessly wipe myself clean. 

“Yeah,” 

“Thank you,” I say, dazedly, turning sideways to smile at him gratefully. 

He’s wearing a simple, white, cotton t-shirt when I return the polo to him, now spoiled with cum and slick. I’m caught off guard by how broad shoulder he is, and by how nice he smells… cinnamon and sweat. Weird combination, but pleasant. I wonder if he baked any bread today? 

“Um… would you… would you like to put these back on?” He asks awkwardly, leaning down to pick up my discarded panties from besides the foot of the toilet bowl.

I wrinkle my nose, “Not really,” I mumble. “Who knows when was the last time that floor got cleaned. Gross.” 

Peeta smiles and shakes his head, “Here,” he grabs his polo, covered in our juices, and wraps my underwear in it. “Now it’s hidden.”

My body is finally catching up with the advanced hour, the beers and the two amazing orgasms. I’m starting to feel sore everywhere, and my eyelids are getting heavy. “Wow… think I’m officially all partied out,” I chuckle weakly.

“Ditto,” Peeta agrees, his smile is shy. “So… there’s this little dinner about two blocks from here,” he starts, eyes downcast; the space seems to shrink around us, now that the frenzy of our physical activities is done with. “Would you like to grab a pancake or som—“

My phone rings, startling us both into silence. I frown, but scramble to find it in my purse, to check who could be calling me… apparently at 2 a.m.!

My frown deepens. Prim’s smiling face flashes on the screen. She was supposed to be getting some herself! “It’s my sister,” I whisper, tamping down my rising panic. I don’t ask if it’s okay to answer, I just do it. “Prim?” 

“Where the hell are you?!” I have to pull the phone off, or risk eardrum rupture by my sister’s screeching. “I’ve been texting and calling you! I’ve been worried sick!”

I scowl at the wall, confused and little annoyed, “Prim… Prim, are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need me to come get you somewhere?” I try to ask.

“What?! No. I’m home! But you aren’t, and I’ve been scared shitless trying to find you!”

I give Peeta an apologetic grimace, and blindly feel around for the lock to get out of the stall. “Um… why are you home so early? Last time I heard from you, you were getting a ride,” I’m trying to sound unaffected; It’s all I can think to say in my mortification.

“Never mind that! Why aren’t you home already? I thought you had to work in the morning and then go to sch—” 

While Prim rages at me, I place a hand on the phone and turn to Peeta, still in the stall, awkwardly facing the wall, I assume to grant me some privacy. I’m sure he can hear my sister’s frantic chastisement from where he’s standing. “I’m sorry… you’d think I was a teenager instead of a grown ass adult,” I roll my eyes.

Peeta waves me off good naturedly. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for keeping you so late,”

I’m about to say something else, but Prim yells loudly, something about calling the police and checking the hospitals for me, which truly prompts a reaction from me, “Calm down! I’m still at the club, exactly where you left me!” I cover the phone with my palm again, and turn to him. “I’m… I’m gonna go? Before she threatens to send the marines in,” I try to joke, but our situation takes all the levity out of it, and my attempt dies off, lamely. 

Peeta nods, smiling softly; somehow I can tell it’s not genuine. 

“Little sisters, right?” I offer halfheartedly, twisting my lips. 

“Can I… walk you out at least?” He asks quietly; Prim hasn’t stopped nagging this whole time. 

“I… it’s not necessary, but thank you…” 

Peeta nods again, looking disappointed. 

I don’t get to tell him a proper goodbye, because two dude-bros come in the bathroom, letting the noise from the club filter in; one of the idiots elbows the other, and both start making some lewd comments about me, but Peeta steps in, eyes wild with anger, and tells the guys to knock it off. Prim hears the whole thing of course, and goes nuts herself asking what’s going on?

Peeta looks at me, and motions his head towards the door. 

Message received, I step outside the bathroom and book it out of the club, “I’ll be home in a bit. I’m gonna call and Uber,”

“Call me as soon as you’re in it!” Prim demands.

“Fine! Now stop nagging me, will you?!”

I don’t realize I never looked back at Peeta to wave my goodbyes until I’m in the car, heading home. Regret truly is a bitch. I can’t help feeling like I just lost something important, but I have no idea what it is. 

>>—————> * <————<<

It’s been a very long Monday. I’m mainly running on caffeine at the moment, and can’t wait to get home and pass out in my fluffy bed, to see if I can catch up on last nights lost hours of sleep. 

I enter my last class of the day and find a seat in the middle of the third row. I pull my laptop, a writing pad and my mechanical pencil out of my bag, and watch as my classmates start filtering in one by one, greeting each other and finding their places, lazily. 

I’m the oldest student in this class, which is not surprising. I’ve only just come back from my extended— 5 year— sabbatical; and did it only after I was completely sure I could handle my workload and the financial strain of both me and Prim going to college at the same time, without giving myself an early grave. 

It’s been hard, but I’m glad I came back to finish my schooling, I only need a handful of credits to graduate, which is great!

I check my watch. We still have a few minutes to kill before class starts. The professor— Dr. Mellark, according to the copy of my schedule— is not here yet, so I pull up the banking app on my phone to give it another glance. The balance is still the same as the last two times I’ve seen it, but it doesn’t hurt to be extra careful when one is on a tight budget. I scheduled payments for the power, gas and rent to go out in the next few days, and I want to make sure there’s enough money in the bank to cover them. We’re looking fine for the month, financially speaking. 

The door to the classroom swishes open, and I start signing off my app.

“Good afternoon ladies and germs; I’m doctor Mellark, and provided you’re in this room for an English class, I’ll like to welcome you to the amazing world of Classic Literature!” Says a deep, male voice I find oddly familiar. “By the way, don’t any of you dare to disagree with me on the awesomeness of classic lit… I’m a doctor, I know what I’m talking about… unless you ask me about medicine, then please be free to disregard everything I say, because I’m not ‘that’ kind of doctor!” 

A murmure of little chuckles fills the room; even I smile, silencing my phone and putting it away, before looking up at the professor.

I choke on a strangled gasp when I finally set eyes on the man I assume is the teacher, dumping a worn, leather, messenger bag on the desk near the podium. He’s the last person I would’ve expected to have as a professor.  

Oblivious to my predicament, Doctor Mellark— or as I know him: Peeta!— keeps introducing himself. 

“I’ve been teaching this course for 14th years, but I’m always pleasantly surprised to hear the different points of views my students bring to our discussions on the classics we study, which in a nutshell, is the beauty of this class.” He pulls a ream of paper out of his bag, and gives it to a student in the front, “Please take a syllabus, and pass the rest to the next person, and so on… thank you!” 

My face is burning. I think I’m gonna faint. 

“But enough about me,” his voice booms, making my whole body shiver. “I don’t normally do roll calls or care about attendance, as long as you’re not missing assignments, and are here during discussions, so this is the first and last time I’ll be reading this list,” he rises a piece of paper above his head, I surmise has the students names on it, and he instructs, before reading, “I’ll call your names, and you’ll introduce yourself, briefly, that way we can all get acquainted with each other, yes?” 

Ugh! 

He can scratch my name off that list right now! We’re more than acquainted with each other.

Bile rises to my throat. An intrusive, bitter thought pesters me: how many of his students has he gotten ‘that’ familiar with? 

But the thought dies off quickly. An even worse, more worrisome thought springs front and center in my mind: Did we use protection?!

Panic rises in my chest, a nervous queasiness settles in my belly; a distant memory of warm goo sliding down my legs comes to mind… Oh shit! 

Oh shit, oh shit! We didn’t use a freaking condom? Who does that?! 

Oh shit! 

Would a Plan B still be effective right now? It’s been less than 24 hours… 

Peeta’s reading names. People stand from their seats and talk about themselves. I haven’t heard one word they’ve said, but I’ve been watching how some of the female students bat their eyelashes and speak all breathily, smiling coyly at him… Peeta seems oblivious to the flirting, but I still feel a cocktail of unpleasant feelings in the pit of my stomach. 

I realize, I’m jealous!

My ass is frozen in my sit, I’m not even breathing. I don’t think Peeta’s seen me yet, but… what will he do or say once my name comes up? I send a quick prayer to heaven, he won’t recognize me since I look nothing like I did last night at the club, with my hair down and my face all made-up. Right now and plain ol’ me… the rub is gonna be my name. Darn my dad and his awful naming whims! 

Soon enough, he reads a name that makes him stutter, “Kat…Katniss? Everdeen?” He does a double take, “Katniss Everdeen…” his eyes are the size of saucers when he scans the lecture hall, swiftly. When he finds me, he looks back down at his paper, and says the name out loud again, unsure, “Katniss Everdeen?” Like he doesn’t believe what he’s reading. 

I stand up woodenly, my voice cracks a little, “I’m—I’m Katniss Everdeen… hi!” 

I’m about to drop back into my chair, but Peeta kinda mumbles, “You know, Arrowhead, or Katniss is a water plant? The root is edible… like a swamp potato?”

There are quiet little giggles all over the place. 

Peeta clears his throat, his eyes flit away; his face’s blank of emotion, but his cheeks seem pinker than a second earlier, “I just read that online, believe it or not. Interesting facts about local flora, people. Reading is knowledge, but so is learning from one another… what can you tell us about yourself, Miss Everdeen, besides that you have a very unique first name?”

“I…” I harrumph, avoiding eye contact with Peeta at all costs, “I’m a part time student. Majoring in Botany. I took this class to fulfill my last English credits requirement for graduation. I do love books and classic literature, in particular.” 

“Thank you… Miss Everdeen,” he rasps. 

I sit down, clumsily, hoping this horrible, horrible moment is just a nightmare and that I’ll wake up any second now, drooling on my desk, with indentations of my notepad on my cheek, because anything would be less embarrassing than what I’m going through at this point.

Mercifully, Peeta calls a different name, and then another, and then another. I don’t look up from my notepad once.

Peeta for his part, sounds stiff and monotonous— or so I’d like to think— no more jokes or clever sayings. Maybe he’s not as affected as I am about this ordeal, and I’m just making it a bigger deal than it really is? Maybe he does have experience sleeping with students— I mean, it’s not unheard off, right?— Not that either of us had any idea we were engaging in a teacher-student affair last night… 

Although, calling it an affair is generous; it was a measly one night stand. A chance encounter. Two people letting off steam before a busy week ahead. 

I’m getting increasingly angry with all this thinking… and the class seems to drag on. It feels like an eternity, and my mind keeps churning up all kinds of questions: Why would he not say he was a teacher at this particular college? Did he lie about being a baker? Is his name even Peeta? 

I scoffed at the thought.

To my horror, I hear him ask, “Anything to say, Miss Everdeen?” 

Looking up at him requires a great deal of bravery and self admonishment, but I do my best and face him— he’s wearing glasses now, which makes my belly tightened for inexplicable reasons— “No, Doctor Mellark, nothing of consequence anyway,” I retort as venemosly as possible, without alerting anyone else there’s something weird going on between me and the professor. 

Peeta grimaces slightly. Then looks away, “Very well, as I was saying, we will start with the basics: The Iliad and Moby Dick, since those are High school level works, I expect your reports to be sufficiently well researched, and your personal ideas on the text somewhat fleshed out. It doesn’t have to be in-depth. I’m just looking to determine everyone’s style and needs for the semester ahead…” he continues his spiel, and I feel free to go back to my stewing and my musings. 

Before I know it, Peeta’s dismissing the class, wishing everyone a good rest of their evening. 

I jump into action, packing my stuff with my head bowed, but then I hear him again.

“Miss Everdeen, a private word, please?” It’s much too quiet to have been said from his podium. I still startled when I look up and find him standing right against the first row of desks, directly in front of me. 

His face is not quite stern, but he’s definitely less smiley than when we met. 

I force down a gasp, because under the better lighting of the lecture hall, and close up, I can see a plethora of details I missed at the club; like the arresting blue of his eyes, the slight reddish of his neatly trimmed beard, peppered with silver whiskers all over, while his perfectly combed hair is almost all silver on the temples, and ashy blonde on the top. His shoulders are even broader than I remember. 

He’s overall stockier than I originally thought, and just a smidge shorter, which is fine, he’s still the most handsome man I’ve ever met, and I wouldn’t mind climbing him like a tree—

I shake my head off the intrusive, lecheros thoughts. I’m literally lusting after my teacher, for goodness sakes! This is beyond a silly schoolgirl crush!

Peeta arches one dark blonde eyebrow at me, expectantly. 

I nod curtly, because my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth, and gesture for him to lead the way.

I shove my laptop into my bag, and hastily shoulder the straps, hugging my writing pad to my chest, following my professor like a chastened little girl. 

My stupid eyes find his ass, and I blink twice, at the exquisite sight in front of me. I groan internally. 

He grabs his own bag, takes off his spectacles and slides them into his shirt pocket. 

How old is this man?! He said he’s been teaching this class for 14 years, when do professors start their teaching careers? How did I never see him before now roaming campus? Is his age the reason he ate pussy like a master? 

I shake my head, cursing my horny brain. 

Peeta opens a door I have no idea how we came across, and then stands aside, gesturing for me to go in first. 

I duck my head and step into a warmly decorated office, with a small desk and two chairs in the middle of the room. Bookshelves full of tomes line the office. A handful of pictures and framed diplomas hang from the only available wall space in the room, but I don’t get to study them before he catches my undivided attention. 

“Let me start by apologizing,” Peeta stars, closing the door behind himself, “I assure you, it wasn’t my intention to cause you any stress, or embarrassment out there.” He pauses, “Would you like to sit?” He offers, wincing. He doesn’t wait and steps around me, to pace on the other side of his desk, “I… um, never been in this position before,” he scowls, “I’m not sure what assurances I can offer at the moment, except, that I will start the process to recuse myself from this class immediately, to not interfere with your academic—“

“Recuse yourself?” I cut him off, “what do you mean?” 

Peeta squirms a little, and sits down heavily on his chair. My bag slides off my shoulder, and I just dump it in the empty chair I was offered a moment ago. 

“Well, Miss Everdeen, it’s the right thing to do, given our circumstances. We’ve breached the appropriate boundaries of our pupil and teacher positions, and staying in the same class together will put you at a disadvantage… is a power imbalance situation, that calls for action.”

“Can you stop calling me ‘Miss Everdeen’? It’s weird…”

“I’m just trying to maintain an acceptable level of decorum between us,” he says sheepishly. 

“That ship has already sailed,” I say tiredly.

“Perhaps, but it’s my responsibility to still try,” he rubs his forehead. “Anyway, I’ll call my department and see what is next. Stepping down myself is the only fair solution I see so far… it would be terribly unfair to ask you to switch classes. Simply disrespectful, but we both can agree this uncomfortable situation needs to be nipped in the bud, for both our sakes, Miss Everdeen.”

“This is bullshit!” I snap, “What happened in that club, isn’t that terrible of a problem! What we really need to do is stop acting so stiffly and guilty. By the way, you sound like a walking thesaurus!” I accuse, looking him in the eyes for the first time since he called my name at the lecture hall. “Stop it!” 

Peeta inhales deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Miss Everdeen, our actions last night may have been honest, and even innocent in nature, but they still carry consequences… unexpected ones, especially in light of the facts. And the facts are, that it would be unethical for me to remain in a position of authority over you. In any case… if you feel the need to report me to the school administration, for… harassment or inappropriate behavior or anything else, I won’t dispute any claims. I promise to distance myself from you and give you space so you can continue with your education without interference, in a safe environment.”

I grunt, “I’m not going to report you, because you didn’t do anything wrong. Sure, I thought you were a baker… I mean your story about your name, and that little loaf of bread embroidered into your shirt, I thought it was your uniform,” I shrug one shoulder. 

“Sorry about that… I never meant to mislead you,” he says bashful. 

I ignore him, “Either way, I was the one pulling you into that bathroom. I threw myself at you. I begged you to do things to me, and you just granted me my wishes…” like a sexy gentleman, “The sex is on me. I’m 26 years old, I’m not some bumbling teenager who hasn’t learned to take responsibility for her actions, so, please… stop trying to shield me, or protect me, or whatever it is you’re doing,” my arms flap around in frustration. I finally push my bag off the chair, and sink into it. “Look, Peeta—“

“Professor…” he corrects, frowning a little.

I roll my eyes, if he knew he’s just making it sound kinkier than it already is, he wouldn’t be so adamant about the freaking titles. 

“Fine… Doctor Mellark,” I enunciate, pettily. “I specifically chose your class as my last English elective for two reasons. One: it’s exactly the amount of credits I need to graduate at the end of the semester. And two: it fits my schedule to a T, which is important, since I do have a full time job when I’m not a college student. So, I’m sure we can both be adults about this unfortunate situation, and simply forge on. There’s no need for you to recuse from teaching this class, and I have absolutely no intention of switching. We both can wear our big people britches, and pretend last night was a… what did you call it?” I wave my hands, as if the answer will materialize from thin air, “A vivid wet dream? And leave it at that!”

Peeta glares at me, looking aggravated for the first time since I met him. “It’ll be unethical to continue like everything is normal, Miss Everdeen.” Peeta argues, stubbornly. 

“Nobody has to know about last night,” I say, exasperated, then a horrifying thought flashes in my mind, “Unless you bragged about it already!”

“No!” He straightens in his chair, looking offended, “I would never do something so vile,” He looks indignant, “plus, the fact still remains that something did happen last night, and I know about it! I can’t, in good faith, be your teacher.”

“Are you planning on showing me favoritism because you know what my pussy tastes like, Peeta?” I deadpan, “Or are you gonna blackmail me into doing it again?” 

“Stop calling me Peeta!” He growls through his teeth, his very thick fingers clenching into fists on his armrests. 

I blink at his reaction owlishly, realizing I’m truly pushing it this time. 

“I’ve always prided myself on keeping my nose clean. Being a decent man and tutor. Never in 17 years of teaching have I slept with a co-ed, let alone a student in my own class.” He breathes deeply, then pins me to my chair, with those arresting blue eyes of his, burning with controlled anger, “I would never extort you or anyone for sexual favors, Katniss. While I don’t really want to lose my tenure or face other disciplinary actions from the school authorities, the one thing I truly don’t want to damage are my personal standards, and my self image.

“Katniss, I’m already biased when it comes to you. Being your professor won’t be exactly fair to anyone. I’m not saying I would give you A’s willy-nilly, nor that I would grade your papers any differently than I’d do your peers or that I’d be less critical of your work,” 

“That’s reassuring,” I roll my eyes. “You’re telling me that if I bring you a shit essay, you might not be persuaded to let me redo it?” 

He sighs, “I don’t know…” he scratches the back of his neck, “I’ll most likely hover over your desk a disproportionate amount of time compared to your classmates. There’s also a chance I’ll call on your name more often than the rest of them?”

“I still don’t hear one unscrupulous, wrong reason, why you can’t do your job, and teach this class.”

We sit there, staring at each other, at an impasse. 

“Why are you so set on keeping me in that room, Miss Everdeen?” He asks, softly. 

Finally, I relent, relaxing my tense shoulders, and exhaling tiredly. I raise my hands in defeat. “I don’t know, Peeta. Because I want to protect you, the same way you’re trying to protect me. But… recuse yourself if you have to. I still believe you’re a better man than your urges.” 

Peeta relaxes in his chair too, “Thank you, Katniss.You didn’t have to say that, specially because you don’t know me. It still means a lot.”

I chew the inside of my lip, calculating stuff in my head. “You’re right, I don’t know you, but I consider myself an okay judge of character.” He opened this door, it’s time for me to walk through it, “Can I ask you some stuff?” I ask innocently.

Peeta arches his eyebrows. “Shoot,” he says. 

“How old are you?” 

“45. I’m sorry. I knew you were young last night… I just didn’t quite grasp just how young,” his eyes shift downwards, sheepish and uncomfortable. 

“I’m an adult. I’ve been the head of my family for years. At this point, age is irrelevant for me.” I state, dismissively.

“What about your family?” He asks, tilting his head sideways.

It takes me a minute to answer. I cross my arms over my stomach, and exhale, “It’s been only Primrose and I for five years now. My mother had cancer. My father passed when I was eleven.” I rock in my chair, slightly, “That’s why my sister was being such a clingy bitch last night. She can’t bear to lose anyone else. Neither can I for that matter.”

Peeta leans forward on his desk. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Katniss.”

I sit back, feeling like a huge weight just got lifted off my shoulders. “It’s okay, really. I’m back in school, about to finish my last semester, Prim is doing great in university, the only debt we have right now is Prim’s car and my Target card… we are actually okay,” I smile, meekly at him. 

“That’s… that’s good, Katniss. Admirable, really.”

“Peeta?” I start cautiously, “Would you really remove yourself from the class because of me?” 

He looks me right in the eye, sincerity emanating fro his eyes. “Absolutely. Without hesitation. As soon as you leave, I’ll email my Head of Department, explaining my situation. Don’t worry, I won’t mention any names or details—“

I shake my head, vehemently. 

Peeta squints, studying me cautiously, measuring me. 

“Please… stay with me…” 

Something in my tone catches his attention, and he eyes me curiously. “I’ve already told you why I can’t,” he says, almost soothingly. 

I stand up. Go around my chair, and drop back down into it. I start shaking my leg nervously. “I had this feeling in my gut since last night. Like I lost something precious, I just couldn’t put a finger on it… I still can’t, to be honest. All I know, in my loins, is that I can’t let you step down from your position, and I sure as hell won’t walk away on you without figuring out what this…” I wiggle my fingers, pointing to the mouth of my stomach, “feeling is about.”

He stares at me. 

I stand up again, and this time I just pace, to the wall with the pictures, and stare at a bunch of faces, too similar to Peeta’s not to be related to him somehow. 

“I know I’m not making sense, but I just needed to say that.”

He watches me for a long beat, weighing his options no doubt, before answering, “I can’t be your teacher, Katniss…” he sighs, and rubs his forehead, “because I’m afraid seeing you every week, without being able to touch you will be absolute torture.”

“Really?” I bite my lip, giving him an open once over, not feeling one iota self conscious about. “How come?” 

Peeta huffs, avoiding my eyes. “I’d be wondering what your breasts look like the whole time.” He confesses, flatly. “I didn’t get a chance to see them last night, and it kept me awake an indecent amount of time.” He twists his lips, “I’m gonna be pinning the whole semester, whether you’re in the classroom or not, craving the taste of your juices in my tongue, and worse of all, I’ll probably embarrass myself, giving me involuntary hard on’s just fantasizing about you.”

I practically prowl towards him. “You poor thing,” I coo, pouting. “Would you go home to masturbate on the soiled pair of panties I left behind on that dirty, bathroom floor?” I ask… more like, purr, really. 

Peeta chuffs out an incredulous laugh, covering his face with both hands. He grunts, “Aw, fuck! That sounds so… it’s probably exactly what could happen. I’d try to stay professional in the classroom, but in the privacy of my home…” he chuckles weakly, shaking his head.

“What kind of fantasies are we entertaining here?” I ask, invested, and sit on the corner of his desk. 

Peeta thins out his mouth, “Katniss… that’s a slippery slope you’re trying to climb,” he warns.

“Humor me?” I cajole. 

He takes a stuttering breath. “I’ll bring you into this office, same way I did today, except I’ll rip your clothes off, throw you on the desk and take you hard and fast. From behind.” 

I can’t stop a small sound at the back of my throat, nor the need to rub my thighs together. 

I clear my throat, “I expect you’d want to fuck me on every surface in this office?”

Peeta pulls on the collar of his shirt, his face turning crimson, “And probably the lecture hall as well,” he adds conversationally. 

I nod, scooting closer to where he sits. “I’m curious too you know. I didn’t get to see ‘any’ part of you naked. But my muscles still are deliciously sore from last night. A girl has to wonder… just how big a dick has to be to cause so much wreckage?” 

It doesn’t take much effort at all to work him up. Peeta’s pants are tented in what looks like the most uncomfortable erection ever; he shifts in his chair to try and hide the effect my words have on him, yet, his hands remain folded on his lap, white knuckled with the effort of keeping himself in check. He’s really committed not to touch me while I’m still his student, but he rasps a question, full of concern. 

“Did I hurt you?” His eyes search me, earnestly. “I’m sorry I was too rough, really,”

My heart gives a little somersault. “No, Peeta. You were pure perfection. I loved how you handled me.”

His lips twitch, and I’m amazed at how expressive his face is, even partially hidden under his near facial hair. “You said you were hungry last night before you got on your knees…” I murmur, “I think, next time I’ll return the favor,”

“Next time?”

I slide closer to him, but we both keep our hands to ourselves.

I lick my lips, resisting the urge to drop on my knees between his legs and gobble up his cock. I didn’t lie about wanting to see him in all his naked glory, but I can show the same level of restraint he does; I respect him for trying to keep a moral and ethical compass.

I smirk at him, slyly. “Are you sure you wanna abandon your post as my professor, now that my education is on the balance? We can wait a handful of months, Doctor Mellark… I promise not to tease you,” With that, I mean, I promise not to aggravate what could potentially be the worst case of blue balls in the history of slow burns.

Peeta hisses a mirthless chuckle, “You’re too much of a temptation, even if you don’t actively try teasing me, Katniss,”

I start playing with the end of my braided, dark hair. “You know what I’m most really looking forward to, from when I’m no longer your student?” I pose, shyly, “Going to that dinner you mentioned last night.” I shrug one shoulder. “I’ll let you buy me a stack of pancakes to celebrate my graduation. I’ll probably introduce you to my sister, Primrose… and we’d go from there… if you wanted to…”

Peeta smiles, disarmingly. “I’d love that too, Miss Everdeen.” He says quietly.

I let go of my braid, and hug myself, “Stay in the class?” I practically beg one last time. “We can do it, I know we can. We can have a platonic, completely innocent teacher-student relationship until I’m done with college,”

Peeta shakes his head. “We’ll see after I talk to my head of department. Who knows, maybe all the schedules are already locked in place, and I have no other choice but to stay put. There’s no guarantee a replacement is available for me.”

“We’ll make it work!” I say enthusiastically. 

“Maybe…” he sighs, not entirely convinced. 

I pull my phone out of my pocket to check the time. Time is running out, I gotta get to the pharmacy before my window of opportunity closes. 

“Hey, Peeta… um, invasive, weird question?” 

I wait for him to nod.

“Have you by any chance, have gotten a vasectomy at any point?” 

“Mmm no, never had. Why?”

Aw shit! 

I bite the inside of my cheek. “Hopefully no reason.” I say quickly, too nonchalant for my own good, and he catches on it, I can see the gears turning in his brain, “Okay,” I make a big show of yawning and stretching my arms, “I have to run some errands before going home and crashing for the night.”

Peeta cringes, “Are you… okay? Really, okay? You said you were sore?” His eyes rove over my face full of concern. 

“I’m fine,” I smile, “nothing a long soaking in Epsom salts can’t cure.”

“Okay,” he says, unsure. “I don’t want to overstep any worse than I already have, but… I’ve been anxious, wondering if you were alright, if you got home fine to your sister since you left the club. Which, obviously you did… but, I wanted to kick myself for not asking your number, just to be able to check on you… and this is frown upon, a d completely unethical, but—“

“I’ll email you,” I say quickly. “Nothing explicit. But I’ll let you know I’m home and okay.” I’ve spoken to people in code before, this shouldn’t be a problem, and really, sending my professor an email with a time stamp and some innocuous question about the syllabus doesn’t have to be nefarious at all. 

“Alright… Just let me know if there’s anything wrong, okay? I swear this won’t become a routine thing or anything, just this time, to give me peace of mind, and because it is late… and well, yesterday…”

“It’s fine, professor. I don’t mind. And… everything will work out,” I say shouldering my bag and pocketing my phone, “everything will work out, even if my Plan B doesn’t,” I smile and scurry out the door, before the puzzlement in his face has time to settle. 

After all, a semester is only 15 weeks long, give or take… that’s plenty of time to figure things out. 

[babymetaldoll]

Danger Days - Chapter fourteen: "Love, hate, love"

Word count: 8,8K

Summary: The band is decided to take care of Joey, and for once, she is ok with that. Gerard is trying to find a way to get closer to her while Matthew... gets drunk again.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, cursing, cheating, angst, a lot of crying.

A/N: I want a friend like Mikey in my life. Do you guys think Joey will forgive Matthew? Would you do it? also, I love how honest Frank is with Joey. Gerard really hates him at this point hehehe.

Not my gif, and all this shit is fiction.

Masterlist

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

::: Valencia, March 11th, 2011 :::

Joey's eyes were wide opened as she laid on her bed. She hadn't slept at all. Mikey was snoring next to her. He had stayed over to take care of her after everybody left. But he fell asleep, and the girl stayed up the whole night, not able to move or to do anything but to stare at the heart locket on her bedside table. It felt like bullshit to her now. What seemed to be so romantic was now nothing but a pile of lies.

Memories kept coming to her head. All of the times together with Matthew, their whole happiness. All the days they spent working on the house he had bought for them, and all the nights they sat in their new back yard to look at the stars, drink some wine and sleep in an inflatable mattress they had put in their bedroom. But what she remembered the most was the day they met. The day their whole story together had started, and how now Joey wished to go back in time and change it all. Ignore him, never talking to him, not even being in that studio that day. Anything that might keep her from the pain she was feeling now.

She had reached the studio early that morning. She had a meeting with a band at ten to record a demo. They needed a studio drummer, and Billy, the producer, contacted her. She had learned the songs; there were just three on the setlist. That shouldn't take more than three days in the whole process, including production.

Joey went through her warm-up and stretching before Billy walked in with two cups of coffee.

- "Thank you."

- "You are gonna need it,"- he said and cut her a short smile- "As far as I can tell, these guys are hyper"- the girl smiled and nodded.

- "Noted, hyper kids."

The drummer already had a lot of practice recording with random bands and some pretty known bands too. Yet, she wasn't ready for the tornado of energy that was about to go through the door that day.

The band was pretty funny and easy-going. Their music wasn't really in Joey's favorite playlist, but she was professional enough to give her best no matter what. Their friend, though, that guy was driving her insane. This very tall thin guy with light brown hair kept jumping with every song they played. He was sugar rushed or in coke. There was no way anyone would be that energetic on his own. And he had an opinion for every part of every song. Their friends loved him, it was clear, that's why they brought him along, but Joey was trying to do her work.

- "Hey,"- he said to her at the end of the session. He hadn't talked to her in the whole day- "That was pretty cool what you did back there."

- "Thanks"- she simply answered and looked for her backpack.

- "I mean, you played amazing, but the way you managed not to kill me through the whole day, though it was clear I was driving you insane, that was outstanding"- and the girl chuckled, she hated it 'cos she didn't want to, but that had been funny indeed.

- "It took a lot of will and mental strength, I must confess, you were pretty annoying,"- she answered with a snarky smile.

- "I'm sorry in advance for the next three or four days then"- the girl sighed and nodded.

- "Thanks, I guess."

- "Hey, can I try to make it up to you?"

- "By not to eat anything with sugar or take any coffee before coming tomorrow? Because that would be awesome"- and Matthew laughed. An honest big, and sincere laugher.

- "No, I was going to ask you if you wanted to get a coffee now with me..."

- "How much coffee do you have during the day?"- the drummer asked, raising an eyebrow.

- "A lot"- he simply answered- "So, what do you say? I promise I won't be annoying, or at least just the decent amount of annoying to be tolerable."

Joey didn't know what to reply. It had been ages since anyone had asked her out, and that guy was breathtakingly hot. Was it a prank? Why would he want to go out with her?

- "How are you planning not to be annoying?"- she asked and narrowed her eyes.

- "You can pinch me every time I get annoying,"- Gubler grinned, looking pretty excited to go out with her- "I know you want to pinch me."

Joey smiled and kept her eyes on his. He gave her the most adorable puppy eyes, and not even thinking about it, she accepted.

And that was the first of a thousand coffees they shared in almost a year together. They had even talked about getting married around the same date they had started dating. But now, none of that mattered anymore.

- "Mother fucker"- she whispered and slowly got out of bed. Mikey was still asleep. She wondered around the room, not knowing what to do. She went through all the things the guys had left upon a dresser: chocolate bars, filled chocolate, M&M, fun-size Snickers, all of her favorites candies. Frank's whiskey bottle, even a Pride and Prejudice Bluray.

- "You guys are awesome,"- she whispered and grabbed a bunch of candy. She looked through her things as she ate. It felt nothing was hers anymore. It felt that wasn't her life or her clothing. Not even her mind. She was out of herself. Her phone was nowhere to be seen. Probably Mikey had it hidden, just like she had done for him when he broke up with his wife. Now the tables had turned. And it felt weird. Wrong. Bad.

Joey had a knot in her stomach as she kept eating Snicker after Snicker. Still, she couldn't stop. She didn't want to stop. She found Matthew's shirts among her clothes, and her body shivered at the smell of his perfume still in the fabric. She could almost see his face, hear his voice, feel his hands on her skin. The same hands that had cheated.

Tears started falling right away. Still, she couldn't stop smelling the shirt. She couldn't stop thinking about him, about his face, his kisses, everything. But yet, she was so mad, so sad, so confused. Her stomach started aching, and the girl started retching. She ran to the bathroom and puked the few candies she had eaten. That was all that was left in her stomach.

- "Bug, hey..."- Mikey appeared running and kneeled next to her.

- "I'm ok, I just... I'm still..."- the girl sighed and wiped off the tears from her face, flushing. Mikey reached the mouthwash for her- "Thank you"- Joey clumsy stood up and spat in the sink.

- "Did you get any sleep?"

- "Not really"- the honesty of her answer surprised him. He was ready to deal with a girl in denial of her state. Instead, somehow, she just answered the truth. He decided to take another shot.

- "Are you hungry?"

- "Of course not. I just puked."

- "What do you wanna do today?"

- "Stay in here, in my pajamas, and watch shitty tv. How is your schedule for today? What do you have to do?"

- "Stay here in my pajama watching shitty tv with you,"- she cut him a sweet smile as she crawled into bed again.

- "You don't have to do that, Mikey. You have to work."

- "I know I don't have to, I want to do it for you"- he made a pause, grabbed the phone, and called room service.

- "Thank you,"- she whispered and heard him asking for two breakfasts.

- "Besides,"- Mikey added, after hanging up and getting into bed with her- "It's not like I have to show up and answer questions I've answered a million times before. That's why Gerard's the lead singer. He loves the attention."

Joey smiled and hugged Mikey, resting her head on his chest as he surfed channels.

- "Yeah, he is a little diva sometimes."

- "A little? Sometimes?"- Mikey chuckled- "Oh Bug, you have no idea..."

Gerard was walking on his own after the first interview. He asked for a few minutes to get something, and Worm came along to make sure he made it alive.

- "Dude, help, what can I give Joey?"

- "Is her birthday again or something?"

- "No, she broke up with Gubler, and I need something that might cheer her up."

- "Fuck! How is she?"

- "Locked in her room... what can I give her?"

- "Chocolates."- Worm answered right away.

- "Mikey got her a million of her favorites."

- "Booze."

- "Frank got her favorite whiskey."

- "Shit... movies to kill time?"- the man looked at Gerard and nodded- "So Ray got her movies?"

- "They had like a "break up kit" in their fucking bags or something. They know what to do, what to say to her, how to comfort her. And I ended up looking at her from a distance like... awkward and out of place."- Gerard was opening himself up at his friend.

- "Well, think of something that might help her use her time and mind to refocus her into something other than the breakup. Maybe a book"- Gerard nodded and kept looking at the window glazes. Instinctively he stood outside a stationery shop. He thought about it as he looked inside. To draw was an excellent way to kill time. Would she like that?

- "Why not?"- he said and walked in. After a few minutes, he stepped out with not two but three bags filled with art supplies.

- "Did you leave anything left in the store?"- Frank asked when he saw his friend carrying so many notebooks and pencils, you could think he was starting a store of his own. The two of them, plus Ray, got into the van to go to their following interview.

- "Funny. I just got Joey a few things to help her think of something else."

- "Cool man, good idea"- Ray smiled and took a look inside- "I just checked with Mikey. They were watching a movie."

- "How is she?"- Gerard asked as the van traveled through Valencia.

- "She didn't sleep, she hasn't eaten, Mikey was fighting to get her to eat some cereal... she was crying and puking when he woke up."

Gerard's heart ached in his chest as he heard Ray's words. He needed to find a way to make her feel better. But how? How if he never got to talk to her?

- "Any news from the asshole?"- Gerard asked, and Frank nodded.

- "Mikey has her phone off, so no one knows anything about him."

- "Do you think he is gonna show up?"- the singer asked, and both Ray and Frank looked at each other.

- "I think so,"- Toro said- "He is in love with her after all."

- "After all?"- Iero turned to him and frowned- "The fucker broke her heart! I don't want him near my little Bug in a thousand years."

Gerard wanted to hit Frank after calling her "his little Bug."

- "What the fuck is his problem? She ain't his. She is mine."

- "Frank, we are her friends, and we have to support her, but if she ever decides to get back with him again, even when we both know that's nearly impossible, we have to respect her. Ok?"- Ray was very rational about it, mostly 'cos he had lived it with other friends before- "So if he gets here, we can't do anything."

- "What do you mean "we can't do anything"?"- Frank frowned right away, frustrated- "I'm not gonna let that asshole near her."

- "Me neither, man"- Gerard adds- "And I can't believe you are saying this amount of shit after how she was yesterday."

- "It's called experience, Gerard. So remember, this whole shit ain't about how mad we are with Gubler, but about how much we want our friend to be happy, no matter what!"

Ray used his "dad" voice, and his friends couldn't argue with that. That was Raymond Toro's superpower: Super Dad.

Matthew looked at his mom and sighed. He still had three more days of shooting, and he was about to quit. Gubler barely had the strength to get out of bed that morning. He hadn't eaten. He looked like shit. He didn't want to be in the movie anymore. He gave a fuck about everything. So his mother came along to work with him and sat closely, reading a book, trying to comfort him in any way. Yes, that's how much Matthew loved his mother. And he cared shit if anyone made fun of him.

- "I can't do this, mom,"- he said as he walked to her by the end of a scene, he had some time to wait for things to be ready at the following location- "I mean, what the fuck am I doing here? I have to go to her! I have to tell her that I'm sorry"- he grabbed his phone and dialed- "Still off... Yami, please listen to me. I need to talk to you. This can't be it. I need you to listen to me."

- "Voicemail full"- a computer voice warned and finished the call.

- "Shit! Shit! Shit!"- the young man hit the wall next to him a couple of times as his face turned red in anger and desperation.

- "Matthew, please calm down, you are gonna go, but you need to be calm when you meet her. You have to put yourself together first. What are you going to tell her? How are you going to approach her?"- he sighed and walked around in front of his mother.

- "I just need to talk to her now!"- he whispered, pouting. He had never needed anyone as much as he needed Joey at that moment.

- "She has to make her process too. If you run to her now, you are both going to be still hyperventilated with what happened, you are going to be irrational, you know you will, and she is going to be still so hurt and mad she won't think straight"- Matthew sighed and looked at the ground- "Let the things cool down for a few days."

- "I still need to talk to her. I have to call her."

- "Just make sure you don't sound like a madman when you get to talk to her, ok?"

- "Do I sound like a madman now?"- his mother smiled at held his chin for a second

- "As I had never heard you before... you are in love, baby, it's ok to be a madman... just... try to keep a mind straight when it comes to talking to her, don't scare her away."

Matthew nodded and sighed. His mother's words made sense, but how to calm himself down when he felt he was dying inside? He grabbed his phone and dialed. Still off.

- "Can you come over tonight?"- he wrote and sent the text to Paget, his best friend.

- "Sure, is everything ok?"

- "Tell you tonight."

The band reached Joey's room at lunchtime. They brought pizza and beer, but she didn't want either. They talked to her about their day, the interviews, and Gerard gave her his present. That was the one thing Joey was excited about. She loved drawing and coloring, though she sucked at it.

- "Thank you, Gerard!"- she said and cut him a shy smile- "I wanted to get some of these things for a while and never did"- and the singer smiled proudly. He had finally done one thing right.

- "Hey, if you want, I can teach you a few things so you can start your comic,"- he said and sat next to her.

- "Thanks..."- she nodded but didn't look into the idea. Gerard was probably pushing too hard. But he had gotten so excited with her reaction he thought it was the solution to the whole situation. Nothing was farther from the truth.

- "Come on, Bug, we brought your favorite pizza,"- Frank said and sat next to her- "It has all the bacon in Spain."

- "I'm not hungry,"- she whispered and didn't take her eyes from the art supplies.

- "You've barely eaten,"- Mikey said and held her hand, looking at her so worried, it made Joey feel guilty for having her friend like that. It wasn't fair.

- "Bróðir, I am ok. I ate that cereal you gave me."

- "You threw it up twenty minutes later"- she closed her eyes and sighed- "Do you always throw up when you are upset?"- and she nodded. She didn't want to say a word about it. When Joey was a kid, she had many anxiety problems; she always threw up when she felt stressed. It was the way her body worked to cope with whatever it was that she was feeling.

- "Just a slice, I don't care if you vomit it,"- Frank insisted. She held it and took the tiniest bite possible in a poor attempt to make her friend happy. He just kept looking at her, forcing her to take another bite.

- "Do you have to go to work after lunch?"- she whispered and looked at her fingers playing with the bacon on her pizza.

- "Yeah, Bug. Mikey should probably go shower, but I'm gonna stay with you."

- "I'm not a baby, Ray"- the girl frowned- "I can be alone."

- "I know you can, I just feel like staying here, watch a bunch of movies... maybe sleep a little, I don't wanna go to work,"- Ray simply replied.

- "Guys, I know you are being too cute and adorable right now, and from the bottom of my heart, I am forever grateful for it, but I can stay alone. Nothing is gonna happen."

Mikey moved closer to Joey in the bed and wrapped an arm around her.

- "Sure, you are gonna be ok, but right now, we just wanna be with you... just today, ok? Tomorrow you are on your own,"- she turned and raised an eyebrow at him- "I promise."

- "Fine..."

- "Now eat"- he commanded and moved her pizza closer to her.

- "When are you going to give me my phone back?"- she asked after a while.

- "Tomorrow"- Mikey simply replied.

- "What's the plan for tomorrow, by the way?"- Joey asked and looked at her friends- "Do we have to be at the festival the whole day?"

- "No, but we have to be there early,"- Gerard said and chewed his food- "We have to do some press there, and you should come along."

- "I'm good, thanks."

- "No, really, it was great when we did that radio with you, and you've been great all along this tour, so... it would be great if you were there with us... how many times did I just say "great"?"- Joey smiled at Gerard and looked back at her pizza.

- "Like a million times, dude,"- Frank answered- "Hey, where's the veggie pizza?"

It was very heartwarming and, at the very same time, very overwhelming for Joey to feel that amount of love from her friends. She didn't see it coming. That afternoon, she and Ray watched Pride and Prejudice together, and she even allowed herself to share a few tears during those 90 minutes. Ray pretended he never noticed, and that made her happy.

She picked a bunch of other chick flicks she liked, and her friend watched them all, sleeping a little bit from time to time. Joey wasn't able to close an eye. Every time she took her mind off the movie, she thought of Matthew and started crying again.

By the time the rest of the band arrived again, with more booze, more food, and a whole bag of candies, Ray had watched Clueless, 10 things I hate about you and Ever After. He was pretty surprised to know Joey could recite from memory most of the dialogues in those movies. He never thought she could be so... girly.

- "Hey Bug!"- Mikey practically ran to her- "What are you doing?"

- "Coloring this mandala book Gerard got me"- it felt like she was a little kid and Ray was her nanny- "I don't know why people say this is relaxing; I find it pretty stressful"- Mikey looked at it and smiled.

- "Looks pretty cool to me."

- "Let me see"- Gerard said and walked to her, sitting for the very first time, next to her- "Yeah, that looks stressful"- he whispered, and she smiled- "But there was another coloring book in the bag."

- "I feel like I'm five years old,"- she whispered and looked at the singer in the eyes. He cut her a big smile and grabbed a notebook from his bag.

- "I stopped to buy ten comic books today, so that would make two of us."

- "What did you get?"- that conversation kept going. Gerard couldn't believe it.

- "I saw a few X-Men issues in Spanish, and I thought it would be a nice addition to my collection."

- "Nice..."- Frank moved closer and messed with the girl's hair.

- "I brought you a Dr. Pepper,"- he whispered and kissed her cheek.

- "Thank you, Jersey."

- "I also got you fries"- he smiled and raised an eyebrow- "You can't say no to fries..."- and damn it, Frank was right- "Cheesy fries"- he added with a low sexy voice.

- "I hate you, Frank."

- "It's time for you to face it, Iceland, you love me, you can't live without my pretty face making you laugh"- he teased her and chuckled. She kept her eyes in his and cut him a short smile.

- "Fuck you, Jersey"- she whispered but smiled and snuggled closer to him- "I love you. You are a psycho brother with the ability to make me want to punch you."

- "You are that hot second cousin I would nail,"- Frank answered with a chuckle and a low voice. Joey giggled and hit him simultaneously. Gerard froze, thinking there was no way Iero could be so honest with her about his thoughts, not making her mad.

- "Shut up. Why do you always ruin every single moment we've got together?"

- "'Cos... you laugh when I do, and I love to hear you laugh"- the girl chuckled and blushed.

- "Just give me the damn fries."

Gerard looked at his friend in shock. He had flirted, and she smiled. What the fuck was that? It was so clear everybody was closer to her than him... and she told him she loved him.

- "Damn it! You are not going anywhere tonight until you get fucking closer to this girl."

Around midnight, Ray and Frank stood up. Joey was still laid on her bed, wide awake, watching Lethal Weapon with Mikey.

- "Kids, you should go to bed"- Ray announced and put on his shoes- "We've got a big day tomorrow, and you should all rest, especially you, Bug. The dark rings under your eyes will not be covered with makeup, and we will be on tv tomorrow."

- "I'll sleep, I promise"- she whispered and nodded.

- "Are you going to be ok with these two?"- Frank asked after kissing the top of her head.

- "These two are leaving soon, so I'll be ok"- she made a pause and held Frank's hand- "Thank you, Jersey."

- "There is nothing to thank, Iceland. You are my friend, and I'll protect you no matter what."

- "Yeah... what you did yesterday when you yelled at... at him"- Joey couldn't even really say his name- "Well... thank you-" he smiled and winked.

- "Anytime"

- "I love you, dad,"- the girl said as Ray walked over. She wrapped her arms around him and felt him kiss her forehead.

- "Please, try to sleep."

- "I will ... and thank you for watching chick flicks with me."

- "Anytime you want."

- "Really? You won't get sick of the clichés?"- she smiled and wrinkled her nose.

- "No, maybe next time I'll pick a couple when we are on the bus."

- "Dad, it's a date."

- "Sleep tight."

Joey nodded and watched her friends walking out. Mikey kept his eyes on the tv as he ate a bag of M&Ms. Gerard was sitting at the other side of the bed, drawing in silence. The girl sighed and watched tv for a while, but her mind was somewhere else.

- "You should take a bath,"- Gerard whispered suddenly- "If you are going to try to sleep, maybe a hot shower can help you."

- "I thought I smelled so bad you were gonna force me"- Joey answered, not even looking at him.

- "Joey, I've lived with you for a lot of months so far, and I've been locked with you after playing shows covered in sweat"- Gee made a pause and smiled- "You've never smelled bad"- she rolled her eyes, but a slight smile appeared on her lips.

- "You've never been close enough to smell me."

- "She is right, she gets nasty"- and Mikey got smacked by a pillow after those words.

- "Fine, I'll shower..."- but before moving an inch, the girl looked at her friend and asked- "Can you give me my phone back?"

- "Tomorrow."

- "I want to call my parents"- Mikey took his phone from his pocket and gave it to her.

- "Use mine"- she huffed and dialed.

Gerard watched her walk around the room, speaking half in Spanish, half in English with her mother, and then half in Icelandic, half in English with her dad. It was a funny scene to see; he had never seen it. He had never seen a lot of her habits, and yet he had fallen in love with her. Why? How?

- "Dude, I'm talking to you"- Mikey said and threw him an empty bag of candy.

- "Sorry, what?"

- "Can you stay with her for a while? I have to go to my room and take the biggest dump on earth"- Gerard frowned, disgusted, and nodded.

- "Using the bathroom would have been enough, dude."

- "No, it wouldn't, you need to know the disgusting details of my organism..."- Mikey started gathering his things, and Joey frowned as she watched him.

- "Where are you going?"

- "To take a shit"

- "Please don't use my bathroom. You are gross. It's like there's a corpse coming out of you every time"- Joey simply says, and Gerard burst out laughing.

- "Best description ever!"

- "Here's your phone, bróðir."

- "Thank you, Bug"- he grabbed it, put on his shoes, his backpack, and hugged his friend tight- "I love you."

- "I know. I love you too."

- "I'll leave you with Gerard. Are you gonna be ok?"

- "I'll be fine,"- his older brother answered and never took his eyes from the paper, scared of looking at Joey under the circumstances. He was finally going to be alone with her. What was going to happen?

- "I was talking to her, dumbass"- Gerard flipped the bird to Mikey as Joey stayed hugged to his younger brother. He wished she could hug him like that one day. That night maybe...

- "You are the best brother on earth"- she whispered- "Now please go to your room and sleep."

- "Eat some chocolates, take a bath and fall asleep, ok?"- Joey nodded, and Mikey left the room.

Suddenly she realized it was just her and Gerard. For the first time in weeks. But her mind didn't have room to think about anything else but the pain she was feeling. She missed Matthew so much; watching Lethal Weapon was the best idea at the moment.

Gerard kept drawing in silence, and Joey watched the movie until it was over. She ate a few more Snickers and went through the pages of one of the mandala coloring books Gerard had given her.

- "Are you going to take that bath?"- he asked her. But she didn't answer. She had spaced out, staring at her hands in front of her- "Joey? Are you ok?"

- "Yes,"- she murmured and took a deep breath- "Yeah, I'm gonna shower."

- "Do you need me to run the shower for you?"- the singer asked, standing up, but the girl excused herself, moved out of the bed quickly, grabbed a clean pajama from her bag, and locked herself in the room.

Gee looked around and sighed. He knew she wasn't ok at all, so he cleaned the room a little, threw all of the empty bags of chocolates into the paper bin, called room service to take their dinner dishes away, and made the bed.

- "Hey babe"- he whispered as Lynz picked up the phone- "How are you?"

- "Good baby, you?"

- "So fucking tired"- he might have exaggerated that a little bit- "We had an eternal day today, doing a lot of press for the festival tomorrow."

- "My sweet baby, are you in the hotel?"

- "Yeah, already in bed "In Joey's bed, asshole."

- "And how's everybody?"

- "We are all exhausted. It's been forever since we've been home."

- "I know, honey, I miss you so."

- "I miss you more, baby."

Joey sat under the hot water of the shower, crying her eyes out. She held those tears for so long that day. She needed to get them out of her system when no one could see or hear her. Under the shower was good, with water running down her whole aching body.

She felt so much pain inside it seemed to be endless. She was never going to overcome it. Joey knew it. She actually thought she could die of sorrow. And her friends had been so nice to her. She felt she had to be better, so they were calmer. She didn't want to make them sick worry about her.

- "You to put out a show from the next day and start acting like you are getting over this whole deal"- she whispered to herself and whipped off her tears- "They deserve better than a broken drummer. You have to be professional, you are here to work, and you have to fucking do your best work."

But still, she looked at the ring that was still on her finger, and the tears came back. She didn't want to take it off. She wanted to hold onto the memory of the days she was happy. But it was so hard. She had been broken-hearted before, but not like that. It had never been like this. It felt like the end of her world, and she was sure she was never going to recover from it. She wouldn't be the same woman that she was before. She just didn't know how much of the old Joey was going to survive.

- "Joey, are you ok in there?"- Gerard asked from the other side of the door- "You've been in the shower for a long while."

- "Yeah, I'm coming out in a minute,"- she answered and cleared her throat- "You can go to your room if you want to, I'm ok."

- "I'm not leaving until you are tucked and asleep into that bed, Joey."

Gerard sighed and closed his eyes. He had brought this to her. She deserved him to be nice to her. Nice, he could do nice. He just had to turn his dick off, and everything was going to be ok.

Easier said than done, clearly.

Joey walked out of the shower in her pajamas, hair already dried, and night cream on her face, 'cos she had done nothing for herself in the whole day, and a part of her needed to feel a little human again.

- "You didn't have to stay,"- the girl said as soon as she saw Gerard sitting on her bed, his back resting on the headboard.

- "I didn't want to leave"- he simply answered and tapped the bed beside him- "Come here... "- she sighed and thought a few months ago she would have been shaking as jelly under those circumstances. Now it seemed Joey couldn't even think of Gerard in any way that wasn't a friend.

She crawled into the bed and looked at what he was doing. He had been working on a sketch for a long while now.

- "What are you doing?"

- "Not much, just trying to ease my mind, I think"- he answered and showed Joey his drawings- "I've been working on characters for the stories I wanna write, so I keep making sketches of random thoughts and ideas I've got for them"- Gerard opened another folder and showed Joey some more of his work- "These I've developed for a long while, but I still don't feel they are ready."

- "How do you know they are ready?"- he hesitated for a second before answering.

- "I guess they never really are. You are constantly changing little things about them with time."

- "Like songs?"

- "Yeah"- the girl looked at the drawings in silence for a few minutes. Gerard looked at her as she stared at each sheet with detention. He analyzed her eyes, her lips, and her cheeks. She was still very pale, black rings under her eyes. But yet, for him, she was gorgeous. He was dying to hold her.

- "They are pretty cool,"- she said and handed them back.

- "Hey, did you ever finish the song you were writing the other day?"

- "The other day, you mean five months ago?"- he nodded, thinking it felt it was just a few weeks ago- "Yeah, I did."

- "Can I hear it?"

- "Sure, one day you'll hear it, not today, dude. Today, I don't want anything"- he nodded and watched her sighing.

- "Another movie?"- and she nodded- "Do you wanna pick it?"

- "No... I don't care what's on the screen as long as I don't think"- Gerard grabbed the remote control as Joey kept playing with the ring on her finger- "Are you going to..."

- "I'm not talking about it,"- she answered right away.

- "Sorry..."- he muted and surfed through the pay-per-view options until he picked up "The Goonies." Joey didn't say a word. That was one of Matthew's favorite movies. But she wanted to watch it. She wanted to feel he was close. She was so mad and so in love that she didn't know what to do.

Gerard put all his art supplies in his bag and cuddled next to Joey. He did it just like Frank had done the night before: like it wasn't a big deal at all. He wrapped an arm around her neck and moved closer. She didn't do anything against that. Instead, she rested her head on his chest and sighed. Gerard felt triumphant. She was in his arms, finally. But Joey had cuddled for one reason only: it was the best position to hide the tears that started falling slowly as the movie began. She remembered clearly the first time Matthew "forced her" to watch "The Goonies." It was a Saturday. It was raining outside. They spent the whole day in bed, watching movies, making love, eating chocolate chip hotcakes, and s'mores. It was the perfect day. Now it was just a hurtful memory.

Meanwhile, back in Los Angeles, Gubler could feel the anger coming from Paget's eyes as he came clean and told her the whole story. They were at his house drinking beer and talking. Mostly Matthew was doing all the talking, while his best friend decided which was the best moment to hit him.

- "You are fucked"- Paget simply said as he kept talking. He stopped and frowned. But nothing came from his mouth- "I can't believe you did that! You are disgusting, Matthew!!"

Paget lost it for a second. She never, in all the years she had known her best friend, ever thought he could do such a thing.

- "I know"

- "I just... why did you do it?"

- "I was drunk!"

- "That's not an excuse!! You've been drunk before! And your cock hadn't ended up in your ex-girlfriend's mouth, so be honest with me and tell me what the fuck happened?"

- "I don't know! When I noticed it wasn't Joey, I stopped it all!"

- "You thought your girlfriend was sucking your cock?"

- "Yes!"

- "And why did you make out with those girls at the dancefloor?! Everybody saw you!"

- "I lost it for a second, 'cos I was scared Joey might cheat!"- Matthew murmured and looked at the floor, so ashamed of his own words.

- "And you did it 'cos you were scared she would?!"- Paget yelled and smacked his head- "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

- "I don't know!"- the boy rubbed his hands against his face feeling the anger filling his whole body- "Don't you think I regret it?! I hate myself! I was stupid!"

- "Yes! You were fucking stupid! Do you know what it takes to get someone to love you the way she does?! Do you know how hard it is to find someone as weird as you?!"

- "I know it's hard! I know it's fucking impossible, and I know I fucked it up! But I need you to help me fix this!"

- "You could start by going to see her and beg for forgiveness!"

- "That's what I want to do, but mom said I have to give her a few days to calm down."

- "She is right, and you have to calm down too."

- "She said I sound like a mad man."

- "Madder than usual, yes"- Paget nodded, still serious- "And where is she now?"

- "Spain, she has a huge festival show tomorrow, it's gonna be televised..."

- "So you get to see her live?"- he nodded- "And after that?"

- "Germany, Denmark, Norway, Sweden, she is only staying one day at those places, she is traveling by bus, so she is going to be stuck with the band all the time. And those guys hate me."

- "Right now, I hate you too."

- "Please stop hating me and help me find a way to get to her 'cos I know they are not gonna let me."

- "They have nothing to do with this whole situation! What are you talking about?"

- "Well, they've always been very protective of her, which used to bother me a lot, until I realized they loved her like a little sister, and she is happy with that 'cos she doesn't have many friends."- Matthew was talking very fast, as the words kept coming nonstop- "Eventually, we got closer, especially with Mikey. He is like her older brother on the road, and he is so fucking nice to her for a moment, I thought he was in love with her. But it turns out he loves her as a sister, which made me happy 'cos it meant she wasn't alone in that tour."

- "To the point, Matthew."- Paget sighed, annoyed.

- "Yeah, sorry. What happened was I called her after our fight, and Frank picked up the phone and told me he is going to kill me if he ever sees me again, and threaten me to beat the shit out of me if I ever try to get near her."

- "What at asshole!"

- "I know!"

- "You completely deserved that!"

- "Paget!!"

- "You would do that for me if someone breaks my heart, so deal with it"- Gubler nodded and for a second, then chuckled.

- "A few months ago, Joey told me the same thing..."- he sighed and stayed in silence- "I miss her so much it hurts."

- "I know"

- "I need to get her back..."- his friend didn't say a word, just rubbed his arm gently and cut him a short smile.

Paget couldn't promise him he was going to get her back 'cos she knew how much it hurt being cheated on, and she had never forgiven a guy for that. And by everything Matthew had told her about Joey so far, she knew she wasn't going to do that either. But she couldn't tell him to give up either. She knew he wasn't going to.

Joey sighed. The movie was over, and she was starting to feel tired. She was afraid to sleep though, she knew she would dream with Matthew Gray, and it hurt to even think about it.

- "Ready to get some rest?"- Gerard whispered. She didn't move- "I know you are awake."

- "Are you a psychic?"- she whispered, and he just smiled.

- "I can see your reflex on the screen"- he caressed her hair softly- "Do you need anything?"

- "No... thanks."

- "Do you want me to stay over tonight?"- Gerard simply asked, making sure it sounded like no big deal, though he could hyperventilate if she ever said yes- "I wouldn't mind."

- "I think I could use some time on my own"- Joey answered and moved on the bed, sitting next to him

- "I get it..."

- "Thank you, though. Thank you for taking care of me today and for bringing me so many things."

- "Hey, don't thank me for it. I'm glad I could make you smile even a little bit"- Gerard murmured and tuck some hair behind Joey's ear softly- "I just want you to be happy. You deserve to be so happy."

She didn't move, mostly 'cos she had spaced out thinking about Matthew again. She didn't seem to have room in her head for any other thought but him.

Gerard saw this as a chance to move a little further. He kept his hand in her hair and moved it slowly down to the backside of her neck. The girl chilled and looked into his eyes. That look, it wasn't a friendly one, and she just noticed it.

- "Joey, you deserve so much better than what he did to you, and if it were for me, I would give you everything, my whole life."

- "Thank you, Gerard"- she whispered and smiled- "You are a good friend."

- "I wasn't saying that as a friend."

Way smiled and moved closer to her, his nose touching hers. She didn't move. She didn't know what to do, actually. She had always thought he was incredibly hot, but she never wanted to cheat on Matthew. But now, that didn't matter anymore.

Gerard moved a few centimeters closer, and his lips touched Joey's. Electricity ran down his back as he kissed her slowly, just to make sure she wasn't going to move away. She didn't. And slowly, she kissed him back.

His hands cupped her face carefully as Gerard increased the kiss, slipping his tongue between her lips. They tasted like chocolate, and they felt warm against his. It was blissful. It was like all the months he had to wait to feel that kiss had been completely worthy. That was the best kiss he had ever given, and his heart was rising so much, he thought it was going to escape from his chest.

Joey wasn't thinking. She wasn't at all. She just went along with the kiss 'cos it felt nice. And it also felt like payback. Like if by kissing Gerard, she was getting sweet revenge for what Matthew had done to her.

Gerard increased the kiss a little more, biting her lower lip and moving her closer to him. He wrapped an arm tight around her and kept a hand playing from her cheek to her neck slowly. Joey was enjoying this, Way was a pretty good kisser, and it was honestly a kiss she had thought about a million times. But it felt empty, like the kind of kiss you give to a random guy when you are drunk at a party. And this wasn't a random guy. This was her colleague, her married colleague.

- "Stop"- she whispered and broke the kiss.

- "What is it?"- she landed her hands on Gerard's chest and pushed him away softly.

- "This is wrong."

- "Why?"- Joey frowned as he held her hands and looked confused.

- "Well, apart from the obvious"- she said and pointed at his wedding right- "I'm at the lowest point of my life, and we work together. I can't afford to lose my job right now, so kissing one of my colleagues seems like a pretty shitty idea to me."

- "Not to me."

- "Gerard... that's your cock talking,"- Joey stood up and looked at him.

- "I've longed to kiss you for a long while"- he confessed following her and standing right in front of her- "And I've got the feeling so did you."

- "That's not the point. This it's wrong."

- "But it felt good, and you know it."

Gerard leaned to her, held her face, and pressed his lips against her, this time in a passionate kiss that made Joey feel weak on her knees. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck and felt his hands on her waist, moving her closer. So close that she could feel his erection, rubbing against her body.

- "You should go"- Joey whispered, gasping for air as she moved from his lips.

- "But I wanna stay"- she shook her head immediately.

- "You have to go, Gerard."

- "But, Sugar"- he murmured and rubbed his lips against her. She let him go slowly and looked at him, shaking her head again- "Ok..."- he grabbed his jacket and his shoes and landed a soft kiss on Joey's cheek- "Good night, sugar."

- "Bye, Gerard."

The singer walked out of that room and sighed. That had been the best kiss of his life. But Joey was right; it had been a mistake. However, it was a mistake he wanted to make ever since he first saw her. Still, he had just cheated on his wife. But that was a thought he needed to ignore at the moment. He had kissed the girl he loved. And he was in heaven.

Joey was in hell. She hated herself so much she wanted to die. She brushed her teeth over and over again, tears falling from her eyes. Her head hurt after so many days of crying. She had kissed another guy. And though Matthew had done the same to her, she still felt guilty and dirty. She was so sorry for what she had done; she knew it had been a terrible mistake. She didn't even want to face Gerard after that.

He was so eager for her, he had been holding that kiss for a long time, and he simply confessed it, like it wasn't a big deal. But it was. It meant Matthew had been right all along; Gerard had a thing on her, something that had ended up being a hot kiss. A very hot kiss. And if she hadn't stopped him, it was clear where Gerard wanted to go.

- "He had a boner for Christ Sakes!"- the girl argued, walking back to bed- "A fucking boner!"- she got under the covers, wrapping her arms around her legs, biting her lips so hard she nearly drawn blood.

Kissing someone else while still in love with Matthew didn't feel right. She didn't want to do it again. No matter how hot Gerard was. She missed her boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend. How was she ever going to get over him? She knew it was impossible. You don't love someone that much and successfully take him from your heart.

It was a good thing that Mikey had her phone, 'cos she felt the urge to call Matthew at the moment. That would have been stupid, and she knew it. But still, it physically hurt to miss him so much. She needed to talk to him. But Mikey had her phone... he didn't have her computer, though.

She looked for it in her backpack and started it on right away.

- "What the fuck are you doing?"- she asked herself out loud as she stared at the screen- "You can't talk to him... you are going to cave in."

Joey brushed her hands against her face and closed the computer. But after a few minutes, she poured herself a glass of whiskey and opened it again. She had decided to check her mail, and maybe Twitter, nothing related to her boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend.

But her inbox was filled with emails from Matthew. At least twenty. Her stomach tightened as soon as she saw them. She took a sip of whiskey and opened the first one. It was sent the night before, probably after Frank had yelled at him and turned off her phone.

"I'm so sorry Yami, I know I was stupid and drunk, and I'll regret it for the rest of my life. But I need you to know you are the only woman I wanna spend the rest of my life with. I love you so much it hurts to think of a day without even hearing your voice."

Joey was already crying. This wasn't healthy. Why was she doing it? She needed to sleep. She needed to get her mind from Matthew. But the memory of Gerard's kisses was right there hunting her too. She poured herself another whiskey and walked around the room. Maybe she could drink herself to sleep. But, she had a huge gig the next day, and she had to be professional.

- "Fuck! I wanna die..."- she sobbed and opened the next mail.

"I know you don't want to talk to me, and I get it. I just need you to understand how much I love you and that I'm willing to do anything to fix this, anything you want, everything you ask; I'll do it, but please, please don't leave me."

- "I have to stop this..."- she took another sip of her whiskey and whipped off her tears. She walked to the phone and talked to the front desk.

- "Hello, sorry to bother you, but can you please connect me with room 1201? Thank you"- the girl waited in line for what felt like ages until she heard Mikey's half-asleep.

- "Joey, are you ok?"

- "No, I'm not ok. Can you come and sleep with me, please?"

- "I'll be right there"- Joey stayed still, eyes glued on the screen, reading over and over again the last mail she had opened.

Mikey didn't even knock. He still had her key, so he just walked into the room in boxers and shirt, shoeless and with his hair made a huge mess. Mikey didn't say a word either; he just took the computer away from her and closed it, grabbed the glass, drank what was left of her whiskey, and got Joey under the covers of the bed. She was shaking and crying quietly.

- "You are gonna be ok Bug, I swear, please try to get some sleep"- he said and held her tight, spooning her- "I'm right here, I'm going to take care of you, ok?"- she nodded and sighed- "Now close your eyes and sleep, I've got you, ok? I've got you."

Joey sniffed and sobbed a little, feeling how her brother's arms tightened around her.

- "Thank you, Mikey."

- "You did the same for me. I owe you my life at this point. I'm never going to leave you."

Back in Los Angeles, Matthew was drunk, calling and calling Joey without any result. Her phone was off, her voicemail was full. So he continued writing emails. At least he could put his heart out in a way, though he had no idea if she was ever going to read them.

Paget, next to him, tried to stop him. But it was useless. The boy wanted to write and ignored everything else.

- "Matthew, Matthew"- she said and shook her arm- "Buy the fucking plane ticket to see her!"

- "Yes!!"- he kind of shouted and took a paper from his pocket- "This is Yami's tour schedule... the movie ends in two days, I can go take a plane straight from the set... so I have to go to Oslo if I wanna catch her."

- "Nice! Bring souvenirs"- his friend smiled, trying to cheer him up

- "Deal"- the boy grabbed his credit card and booked the first flight he found to Norway- "You know it is our anniversary next 17th, if everything goes right, we could actually celebrate our first year together."

- "Please, Matthew, and I need you to listen to me"- Paget said seriously and looked into her best friend's eyes, making sure he would understand her, though he was wasted- "Please, whatever you do, don't fuck it up! ok?"

- "Yes."

- "'Cos this is going to be the only chance you'll get to talk to her and fix everything. Trust me."

Gubler nodded with widened eyes. He was drunk, tired, and devastated, but still, he got how serious and honest Paget was with him. He knew he wasn't going to get many chances to get Joey back. And maybe that was going to be the only one.

**

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[joontier]

Subliminal in Scrubs | V2; report xiv 

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, workplace relationships

warnings: none to note

word count: 2.4k

g/n: Send me your thoughts?

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Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) |  navi. | m.list

“Do you really have to leave me?” you drag the words out as you chew your dinner, one you insisted on having inside Ayoung’s apartment on her last day. You even add a cute little pout afterwards, hoping that Ayoung might reconsider her moving last minute. 

“_________, that was literally the third time you asked me tonight. One more and I think I might change my mind.” 

You sit up straighter, an expectant look on your face. “Really?” 

“I’m afraid not, __________. I’m even surprised you kept asking when you literally helped me pack the last of my stuff. Shouldn’t you have been doing the opposite if you wanted me to stay?” 

You let out a rather unattractive burp and a pretty loud one at that, then you sigh again for the nth time tonight, knowing it’s going to be a while before you find another neighbor that is as unbothered by your poor table etiquette as Ayoung. 

Speaking of neighbors, a coworker’s face pops into your mind and you’re suddenly reminded of your embarrassing encounter with Jungkook just the other day in the very corridor just a door away from where you were seated. “By the way...that guy you brought over the other day…” 

“Oh him?” 

You brace yourself for the bad news, tilting your head towards Ayoung while you wait for her response. “Yeah, I don’t think he’ll be moving in anytime soon.” 

“Oh,” comes your reply, shockingly nonchalant enough to mask the joy of not having Jungkook as your neighbor. Giddy, you prod her on, wanting to hear the rest of the story. “Shame though, he was such a hottie.” 

“How did you even meet him in the first place?” 

“Just last week I went to a cafe to study and partly cure a hangover from the previous night, I checked the post I uploaded for new possible tenants and Jungkook...that’s his name by the way...he was one of the first who sent a message about wanting to see the apartment in person, so we agreed to meet up on a later date.” Ayoung pauses for a moment, stacking a box on top of another. 

“But just a few moments later while I was reading, this boy came up to me and asked if I was...well me and he told me he was Jungkook. Eventually, he asked if I was free because he mentioned that he had nothing else to do that day and he would’ve appreciated it if he got to see the place and have a drink at the same time.” 

There’s a funny look on her face and you raise a brow questioningly. “Have you ever seen a man more attractive in just sweats?” Oh Christ. 

“I mean, most guys would look like a hobo in those, plus he’s probably dumb for just walking around in sweats with only 25 degrees outside but damn.... You know only truly hot men can pull off looks like that. And he surely was packing.” Shocked to the core, you stare at her with your mouth hanging open, not wanting to believe all of these were coming from your sweet sweet Ayoung. Especially not when they’re about Jungkook. 

“So I thought, why not right? I guess the hot chocolate I made wasn’t the only thing that was warm that night…” A suggestive smirk graces her lips and you scoot farther away from her, absolutely scandalized. 

Much to your chagrin, your mind betrays you with rather raunchy images. Goosebumps line the skin on your arms as the embarrassment comes back to you in waves. “Gosh Jungkook, that little fucker.” 

Ayoung creases her brows. “You know Jungkook?” 

Crap. Ayoung wasn’t supposed to end up knowing this. 

“Yeah I know him. Sort of.” 

“Oh, too bad. It would have been great if he moved in so you won’t have to deal with a total stranger for a neighbor. Where do you know Jungkook from?” 

You contemplate for a moment, wanting to weigh if it would be of any benefit having to tell the story of how you met Jungkook. Ultimately, you ended up sharing a brief background, missing out on a few vital points aka Jungkook being a total prick. 

You help Ayoung bring down the rest of her stuff to the lobby, wanting to see her off. “I wanted to bring you to your new apartment but I’ve got an early shift tomorrow, and being late won’t be a good record this early in my job.” 

“It’s alright, silly.” Ayoung leans in for a hug. “We’ll see each other again soon, yeah?” 

“You’re making it sound like I’m moving overseas, stop it!” 

You wait until she gets inside the cab she booked, waving at the car’s rear until it fully disappears from your sight. 

The next day you wake up freezing your ass off, even with you wrapped in a duvet burrito. You take a peek outside your window, grunting as a blanket of snow envelops everything in sight. Everything is white, and the gray trails on the road are the only thing that distinguishes the street from the sidewalk. 

You do your morning routine fairly quickly, spending the rest of your spare time watching people outside your window while you finish your coffee. As a motorbike moves along the length of the street in front of your building, you silently wish the driver a safe trip, hoping he or she didn’t have to use such a vehicle in this weather. 

You take another sip and Jimin instantly enters your scrambled thoughts, remembering how he mentioned he uses a scooter to and from work. There’s a side of you that is assured the Jimin is responsible enough to know how risky it is to use a scooter during the winter. 

The other half of your brain, though, isn’t convinced. Quickly, you set your mug aside, replacing it with your phone and dialing Jimin’s number. He answers after three rings. “_________?” 

“Hey Jimin, I know it’s too early for me to be calling you but I was wondering if you were going to use your scooter on your way to work today?” 

“I was--” 

“Because if you were planning to, don’t. It’s snowing really hard outside and I’m worried you’ll be taking your friend’s scooter on the slippery road….Would you mind if I’ll offer you a ride?” 

You know you were risking a lot, with your own car - your very own Camry which you don’t even trust. It has aged gracefully, and was clearly nearing its end but you knew four wheels was better than two in this snow. 

“I don’t...but I also wouldn’t want you to come all the way here to pick me up when I can just take the subway? Or the bus maybe…” 

“Would you rather pick one that asks for a fare or a free ride?” 

“You’re not exactly giving me a choice here, _________.”

“Great! ‘Cause I’m already on my way to pick you up.” 

“Thank you for the ride, sunbaenim.” Jungkook pulls on the handbrake before setting his hands on the Porsche’s steering wheel for the last time.

‘Someday’, he says to himself, someday he’ll get a car of his own. Someday. 

“Thank you for also letting me drive your car…” 

“She’s a beaut isn’t she?” the younger doctor nods, wanting to rub his palms over the dashboard in fascination, but then he wouldn’t have wanted the senior resident to think he was some sort of lunatic. 

Jungkook decides to keep his hands on his lap instead. 

“You live around the area?” 

“Yeah, just a few blocks from the garage…” 

“Really? Which apartment do you live in? I’m quite familiar with the area.” 

Jungkook is hesitant to mention the name of the building knowing that the apartment complex he stays at most likely has a reputation because it’s the cheapest he could find around the area. 

Before the intern opens his mouth to reply, Seokjin’s phone rings just on time, the sound startling the latter. He opens the car door and alights from the vehicle to get more reception. Jungkook grabs his bag from the back and follows after shortly. Seokjin points to his phone, mouthing that Jungkook doesn’t need to wait for him, so the intern bows to his senior in gratitude, before heading off to the main building. 

As he passes a vending machine, he remembers he wasn’t able to bring his jug with him today so he approaches the machine, scanning other options he could take with his water. He comes across a small carton of banana milk and a thought crosses his mind, a smirk playing on his lips as he adds the beverage to his purchase. 

Jungkook hurries to the on-call room, hoping his tiny plan will fall into place. 

“Thanks for the ride, ________. I owe you so much already. You’re too kind.” 

You wave Jimin off, expressing your worry and how you thought you wouldn’t be able to handle your conscience if you didn’t ask about his mode of transportation to work today. Jimin gives you a warm smile in return. 

“You’re a good friend, _________.” Jimin leans over the center console and gives you an awkward side hug, catching you completely off guard. 

“Woops! Sorry! I didn’t… wasn’t…” Jimin has his hands waving around in the air as he tries to apologize for hugging you out of the blue. “It’s fine, Jimin,” you laugh as you put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. “It’s fine. You don’t have to worry about it.”

Tilting your head outside, you tell him that you both should get going and that you’ll be heading to the toilet first to get changed. While Jimin heads to the surgery department, you make your way to the parking lot’s toilets, bumping into the one and only banana-milk-thief Jeon Jungkook. 

“Hi _________, good morning!” He chirps, the uncharacteristically wide smile on his face throwing you off for a moment. 

At least somebody woke up on the right side of the bed today. Jungkook chuckles, and you realize you weren’t supposed to say that out loud, but you’re somewhat proud that you did, making your sentiments towards the guy as clear as day. 

“Bit rich coming from you miss grumpypants.” 

Your mouth falls open. “Excuse me?” 

“You heard me, darling. See ya later....grumpy.” Before Jungkook leaves, he manages to give you a quick noogie, definitely messing up what’s left of the quick messy bun you made before leaving your apartment. 

Taking in a deep, long breath, you calm your nerves down, deciding today wasn’t going to be the day Jungkook was gonna get to you. 

After your brief encounter at the parking lot, Jungkook heads quickly to the on-call room and looks for a place inconspicuous but visible enough for you to see. He plucks a sticky note from a stack from the shelf just above the table and grabs his pen from his chest pocket. 

Jungkook folds the yellow square into half and writes your name on it, just in case nobody would dare take a carton of milk for someone named after a dwarf from Snow White.  He then sticks the note on the moist packaging, hopeful that the slight sheen of water will help stick the paper onto the carton.

Recognizing Jimin’s voice from the door, Jungkook quickly hides his peace offering behind the files on the table, and pretends he’s reading the patient’s charts before Jimin nears where he’s standing. You and Soomin enter the room shortly afterwards. 

“Just in time!” Namjoon says, adjusting the large frame of his glasses. “Right, as you may already know from the orientation, I’m Kim Namjoon, resident, and specializing in neuro. I’ll be guiding you all throughout admissions and reports this morning while I am waiting for my Chiari decompression scheduled in a few hours.” 

Namjoon gathers the rest of the surgical interns before proceeding to the wards to do rounds with the group. He partners with the head nurse and another doctor from the night shift, updating the patient’s condition before moving on to the others. 

As soon as his rounds are done, he leads the group back to the on-call room to brief the interns on using the EMR system to keep a patient’s chart updated at all times. To speed up the charting, he asks everyone to come up in pairs and update the patient records. 

True to the plan he’d come up with at the spur of the moment, Namjoon and the interns manage to get the job done quicker than expected. With the night shift’s updates already uploaded, the group disperses to carry out the orders and responsibilities.

Jimin, with his throat parched after having come up and down multiple flights of stairs, decides to return to the on-call room to get something to drink. He breathlessly pages Jungkook about it, telling him he’ll get back to his partner after drinking. 

He no longer waits for Jungkook’s okay, too thirsty to even think straight. As Jimin goes through his stuff, he realizes he must have forgotten his jug inside your car but having to call you about it would have been too bothersome for you and him both. 

There’s a water dispenser in the room but there are no cups or mugs free for him to use - and too unsanitary as well. Jimin searches the room in desperation and spots a carton of banana milk just behind some of the patient’s charts. 

He makes a grab for the small carton, checking if it’s got any owner. There’s none written on the carton and no note stuck to it to indicate that it belongs to someone. He spots Yoongi on his phone just by the other corner of the room and approaches the senior resident. 

“Excuse me, sunbaenim. Is this yours?” He points to the carton in his hands. Yoongi shakes his head no. “Any name written on it? Some note perhaps?” 

“I couldn't find any.” 

“Well, it’s yours then. All food on the table is communal unless it’s otherwise labeled.” Yoongi shrugs his shoulders as he explains, giving Jimin a thumbs up afterwards. 

“Alright. Thanks sunbaenim.” 

Throat as dry as the Sahara, Jimin grabs the drink and punches the straw in as quickly as he could before finishing the drink in a few gulps. ‘Thank god for free banana milk.’ He thinks to himself before throwing the packaging away, now more energized than ever.

© joontier 2021

[stilinskitpose]

Pining over him // Peter Hale

Pairing: Peter Hale x female reader

Warnings: nsfw , smut , slight daddy kink, hair pulling, choking, unprotected sex, tonnnn of dirty talk and just a lot of sexy sin (plotless kind of)

Characters: Peter, Derek, Stiles, Scott, implies pack, y/n

Summery: The young reader has been fantasising about the feeling of being with a real man for a while now, a real man being no other than the notorious Peter Hale. However, it’s hard to be taken seriously when Peter thinks you are no more than an annoying little teenage girl.

Word Count: lost count it’s a ton

Authors Note: This is my first time posting on tumblr, let alone posting a smut imagine soooo I don’t know how this will turn out. I’m just going with the flow of my hormonal teenage instincts ;)

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“Y/n, did you even listen to a word that I just said?”

The deepness of the voice made you snap out of you staring at the entertaining spider that was crawling up the corner wall of Dereks loft, which caused you to jump suddenly on your squished position on the coach, trapped between two clowns, Scott and Stiles.

The quiet yelp you let out made Stiles stiffle a snort causing you to elbow him in the shoulder. The fucker deserved that. You let out a content sigh and an evil smile when you heard a sound of pain from your annoying brother from another mother. What can I say, the pain he feels makes me wither in complete pleasure. I snort at my chain of thoughts and look up to see a confused Derek Hale.

"Yeah sorry, I was just-", Trailing off mid sentence thinking of a viable reason for not listening to the former Alpha. Thinking it would be funny to tell them about the entertaining spider that just crawled under the crack of the wall on the other side of the spacious loft.

“There was a spider” You answer timidly, grimacing at yourself for sounding so stupid in the room full of your pack. Derek looks at you quizzingly, you giving him the most innocent look you could muster, he sighs before letting a small smile come across his features from your utter randomness.

“I was just telling you how we need to keep you somewhere safe incase the Darach decides to pay you a visit” Derek says quickly, you sigh in annoyance hating being treated like a defenceless little girl. You understood that you weren’t anything supernatural or anything but you would think Derek would have a little faith in you since you were so handy with a frying pan from being in a near death experience with the twin Alphas not so long ago. You chuckle subconsciously at the memory.

A mutter of agreements are heard from around the loft from your oh so fellow pack members. Betrayed and defeated, you try voice your opinion on the matter.

“What? No” You probably looked like a kicked puppy. You definatly felt like one. You continued “I’m not some helpless human Derek. Stiles is more helpless than me!” You whine flicking Stiles in the head which he repeated the action harder on me causing me to poke him in the ribs.

“Why has this suddenly turned into bash Stiles day? You know I have feelings too” Stiles offendingly says, his arms spazzing at his sides to try and prove his point.

“When am I ever nice to you” you scoff jokingly earning a chuckle in agreement from him before he went back to listening to the arguement infront of him wishing he had a bowl of popcorn to go along with it.

Derek ignores Stiles and resumes telling me that it’s for my own good. Blah blah.

“Where will I even go anyway? It’s not like I have a line of people waiting to protect me from the looming and pending doom of death itself” You replied, words laced with exaggeration.

“I’ll look after her, it’s not like I have anything better to do”

The husky voice came from the corner of the room shadows dancing across the body of the person that is wanting to ‘look after her’. What am I, a dog? Y/n replied in her head afraid to reply that response out loud since the deep voice belonged to a man she have been shamefully harbouring a crush on for some time now. Peter fucking Hale.

It’s not like she was afraid to converse with him, it’s just that she was terrified of making a fool of her self by stuttering out a few syllables before halting and staring at his piercing blue eyed that made her legs buckle submissively from the dominance they give off. She doesn’t know how he does it, makes her feel like her skin is on fire whilst her heart pounds faster than humanly normal. Without even meaning to aswell. It’s like he was a complete natural at turning her into jelly without even noticing. It riles her up to no extent.

Your eyes widen in shock and your heart beat began to rise much to your dismay, knowing that he probably knew the effects he had on you, since he had spectacular werewolf senses, made you want to crawl into a ball and wither away in embarrassment. But he never made any indication that he knew either from being completely oblivious or because he wanted to salvage that slither of pride you had left for yourself. You prayed the first. But you doubted it since Peter isn’t exactly known for being the nicest human in the planet.

You knew you were probably over exaggerating and stressing about this whole situation way to much but you just couldn’t comprehend what you would do if Peter found out the way you feel since he is abit older than you, being still only a junior in highschool yourself and him being a fully grown mature man that you wanted to pounce on all the damn time. Jesus I need to get laid, preferably by the man invading my dreams at night but desperate times cause desperate measures.

“Look after me? I’m not a child, I don’t need watching over, I have things to do like watching the last season of The Vampire Diaires even though I’m shitting scared to because Stephen dies” You ramble a butt load of word vomit wanting to shut up but your nerves were your worst enemy in situations like these.

“Hey don’t aim your anger on me I’m just volenteering to keep the weak and innocent out of harms way, that’s character development if you ask me” Peter replies smugly as his gaze burns into the your own. You muster up a harsh glare at Mr Hottie before pivoting to face Derek who was evidently waying the little options he had.

“Your not seriously considering this right? You hate him, everyone hates him” I bitterly state, relunctanly turning around to meet Mr Hotties patronising gaze. The evident smirk plastered on his handsome face tells me that he’s enjoying being the cause of this conflict. Mockingly sending a small wave as if proud of the past he has with the pack before him.

Everyone once again agrees with my statement causing Peter to let out an annoyed sigh before saying “I thought we all got over this anger that has been directed towards yours truely, It will give you wrinkles if you frown at me like that sweetheart”, he humours the situation by sending a wink in my direction. Ugh.

“It’s not like we have a lot of options right now y/n, as much as I don’t like it we need as many people focused on defeating the Darach. It will only be for a few days at the maximum. I promise. Please?” Derek had is puppy dog eyes displayed making it very hard for me to deny him, so I bit my tongue and agreed.

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Derek had dropped me off at Mr Hotties apartment with my bag laying heavy on my shoulders ready to stay for a few nights. This whole situation is bitter sweet if you ask me. Bitter because you didn’t know if these few days will hold a wave of awkwardness between the two of you and a lack of communication since the both of you have never had a proper convosation other than yesterday when he offered to keep you hostage in his apartment. And sweet because you’d have eye candy for a while. I was not complaining. It’s a win win situation.

You stroll around the apartment amused “I’m not going to lie I have always wondered if you lived in a secret lab or in an underground network of tunnels or something like that but this will do I guess ” you snickered and joked. Peter lifted an eyebrow and smirked saying “I’m not a complete animal darling”. My stomache filled with butterflies at his statement and I cleared my throat looking around the apartment once again.

Peter leaned on the doorframe and cocked his hip against it whilst his arms were crossed. Damn. He gave me a once over eyes lingering on the exposed area where my mid thigh length skirt lay. “Aren’t you a little young to be wearing that?” I frowned and looked up at his defined features past his broard strong shoulders.

“I’m nearly 18 I can wear whatever the hell I want” I scoffed. Peter held his hands up in mock surrender before strolling into the kitchen with his back facing me. I could see the defining back muscles from the outline of his green v neck and the way his bisceps flexed when reaching into one of the cupboards for two mugs. His hands. Oh holy Jesus his hands. The muscular and veiny hands gripped onto the coffee mugs send a wave of arousal downstairs. My mouth turned into an o shape as I imagined all the things those hands could do to me. All the filthy things. A girl can only take so much! As my eyes began to travel down the werewolf in front of me I started to bite my lip at the way his jeans hugged his cheeks as they clung amazingly against his thick legs that held rippling muscle. I have got to ask him what his leg day routine is.

A hand started to wave across of my face as if trying to get my attention, I averted my eyes away from the goodies to see Peter staring at me with a wide smirk along his smug face.

“Are you okay there y/n? You look a little flustered. Something on your mind?” He walked towards me untill I could feel his lips skimming the top of my ear. I gulped in suprised as my eyes widened and started stuttering out an excuse.

“Oh u-um I was just— nothing” I hung my head to look at my feet awkwardly as they began shifting from nerves.

“Hmm okay let me show you where you’ll be sleeping” he his voice rasped against my ear which sent shivers around my body.

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He knew exactly what he was doing. I mean how couldn’t he? It was like we were playing a game of cat and mouse. More like werewolf and human. I snorted out a chuckle at my pathetic joke as I lay down on the bed in the spare bedroom that Peter allowed me to use. Glancing down at my lack of clothing, an oversized t shirt that said ‘bugs life forever’ and a pair of white lace panties I let out a heavy sigh clocking my head untill it reached the my phone saying it was 2:45am. My throat was dry from overthinking earlier with Peter, how he got so close to me, pressing his body against mine. Why would he even do that? He thinks I’m an annoying teenager. A child.

Wanting to wet my parched throat I hopped towards the kitchen quietly, attempting not to wake Peter from his room and not bothering with putting on sweatpants as I didn’t suspect anyone to see me in this state. I reached my arms out to the highest cupboard in the kitchen, straining my arm at the height of it and huffed when I couldn’t reach it. A deep voice made me freeze in my position and slowly turn around.

“Did I say you could use my kitchen without my permission?” I gasped as I saw his shirtless form, rippling muscle clouded his chest with light scattered chest hair in the centre that led towards the waistband of his sweatpants. Atleast someone thought about wearing sweatpants.

Holy Jesus for I have sinned. “I didn’t think you would have a problem with it since you offered to imprison me inside the walls of your apartment” I muttered angrily starting to once again reach for the glass that I am determined to get. Little did you know that Peters eyes wandered past the hemline of the oversized sweatshirt you were wearing that was hiked up from you stretching to reach the glass, this eyes lingered on the exposed skin of your thighs and the white lace panties that hugged the underline of your firm ass. Having these sudden dirty thoughts that clouded his mind from his previous dream feels wrong since you are much younger than him. But Jesus did it feel so right to him.

The feeling of someone pressed against you from behind startles you. You move to spin around when a deep voice interrupts you. “I’ll get it for you, don’t strain yourself darling” Peters voice seemed strained as if he was trying to keep himself together as you let out a choked sigh at how close proximity you both were to eachother. As he reached up to grab you a glass and handed it to you, your response make you regret the day you were born. Started from your hands brushing you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Thankyou daddy” Both his and your eyes widen at your statement.

Oh my god. Did I really just say that out loud? Judging by his expression, I’m pretty sure I did. Shit. What the fuck is wrong with you? Someone please just kill me right now. A werewolf could come up to me right now and kill me and I would say thankyou.

This is why I shouldn’t be allowed to mingle with others

As he was about to say something but you step back abruptly and close your eyes from shear embarrassment.

A husky voice made you jump on the spot, “ say it again” His eyes glazed over in pure hunger as he watched me like I was his prey and he was the predator.

“I-I don’t know w-what your talking about” my voice sqeaked in pure humiliation

“Say it again” he repeats himself before stalking his way towards you and wrapping his hand round your throat as he squeezed lightly sending an electric feeling of pleasure towards your core. You whimpered at the contact and threw your head back at the sight of this heated haze that bore into yours and so he could reach more of your exposed throat.

“Yes, you do. Say it again. I won’t ask a third time.” He growls and you can feel yourself begin to dampen at his forceful tone.

“Thankyou daddy” You coo.

Fuck.” He curses before lunging forward and taking your lips with his. You immediately open your mouth to his probing tongue and moan when it brushes over yours. Peter pulls away from your wet lips and traces his tongue down your throat as his lips begin to suck along the side of your neck surely leaving marks as he does it making you whine and shudder in pleasure. His impossibly enormous hands glide their way to my chest before capturing my breasts through my sweatshirt starting to kneed and pinch my nipples as he held intense eye contact with me.

“These-” he stopped to grasp them harshly before tearing the fabric of my sweatshirt off making direct contact with them this time with his warm and inviting hands that made me choke a whimper as I was being dominated by the man that I have pined over for as long as I have known him. “Are mine” he finished with a growl flashing his blue luminous eyes. His lips began to assault the hardened nipples, swirling his warm tongue round the bud then biting them teasingly.

“Say it, say that you are mine little girl” he demanded as his hand reached down to cup my pussy through my white lace panties.

“Oh god- oh god yes! I’m yours” I managed to stutter as I became a moaning mess as his magic fingers circled around my clothed clit before he moved them aside and plunged two fingers inside my tight walls.

Barely forming a grammatically correct sentence from the immense feeling of pleasure that I was going through, I reached down bravely to palm his prominent bulge that twitched under my palm.

He growled as his hands ran down your back, grabbing your ass between his hands touching outline of your pussy through your thin lace panties. He pushes you back into the kitchen until you feel your back hit the kitchen table. Peter pulls back away from your lips and flips you around, bending you over the table.

Shocked from the turn of events you let out a yelp, “What are you doing?” you moan and cry out as his hands pull down your panties, kicking your legs open with his feet.

“Giving you what you want baby” He husks as his hands pull down your shorts, kicking your legs open with his feet. You hear him unbuckle his belt before shoving his hand between your legs. “Your soaked” he groans before shoving his cock deep inside your pink and wet pussy.

“ Did you not think I’d notice how you feel about me baby? Your arousal always in the air for me to smell all the damn time I’m around you baby girl, you don’t even realise how hard it was to resist the urge to fuck you everytime I saw you” You purr in content at his sinful string of words.

“Peter please” you beg. He slaps your ass hard causing you to let out a loud moan. “That’s not my name” he glares. Realising what you meant it took you no time before pleasing him again.

“Daddy! O-oh fuck yes!”

“That’s a good girl, I’m going to fucking ruin you” he growls in your ear making you whimper. His dirty words only spurring how turned on you are.

“Please don’t stop what your doing” your desperate gasps are all that he needed to fuck you untill your screaming his name.

He begins to ram his cock in and out of your pussy as you let out a stream of loud and sinful moans, pounding you into the table, making the table legs squeak against the hard floor. He reached round to grip your hair as the other slings around your throat holding you in place as he begins to whisper dirty words into your ear that makes you eager to feel your pussy pulsate around his hard and thick length.

“Who knew you were such a naughty girl y/n? Desperate to feel my cock inside you, I bet you like it when I fuck you don’t you? Huh? Rough and hard?” You managed to humm before it turned into a stuttered moan as you felt yourself beginning to quiver and your legs to shake he continued to pound you with his cock.

Suddenly the feeling of a knot forming below your stomache makes you stutter out a moan “ holy shit, yes, yes!” You scream as you come undone around him as he continues to pound you through your orgasm. A stream of grunts follow after yours as he came inside you, milking your walls with his hot cum.

“Wow, that was unexpected” you grunt as you try and catch your breath, leaning against the kitchen table.

“You started it, calling me daddy and all” he teased whilst he send you a smirk.

“Well I’ll call you daddy as much as you want next time” you reach out to pull at his short hair leaning to give him a subtle kiss on his lips that lingered.

“Darling, next time I plan to fuck that warm little mouth with my cock” he growls.

That can definitely be arranged

[kyber-queen]

Fair Deal (Frankie Morales x Reader)

Summary: Super fluffy get-together fic w a gender neutral reader. Set back in their army days, reader is on the Triple Frontier team (Reader’s nickname is Aces). Pope is a little shit, Frankie and reader are oblivious, and everyone knows they’re in love w each other except Frankie and reader. AU where Redfly doesn’t exist bc I Find Him Annoying. 

Rating: Everyone

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, mentions of guns, a k*ss perhaps

Author’s Note: Hey guys! This one is for @ mandosbitch on twitter !! This is my first time writing Frankie, I hope I did him justice :) Enjoy!!

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Frankie should have known better by now than to make a bet with Pope. He was three drinks in and Pope was more than eager to take advantage of Frankie’s less-than-sober state. The bar was humming with energy, which only seemed to fuel Frankie’s apprehensiveness.

“Fish, wanna make a deal?” A mischievous smile crept across Pope’s face. They were always deals, never bets. Something about putting the fact that it was a bet right out in the open always seemed like too much of a warning for Pope’s various targets.

Frankie gave him a dubious look. “I never seem to like the outcome of your deals, my friend,” he thumbed the label of his beer, memories of Pope’s past escapades flooding his mind.

“I promise you’ll like this one, just hear me out,” Pope pleaded. He was nothing if not a master swindler.

Frankie paused, intrigued despite his common sense setting off alarm bells in his head. He sighed. “What’s the deal, Pope?”

“You gotta agree to it, first,”.

Frankie scoffed. “In what world would I—”

“Come on, man,”.

Frankie searched Pope’s face, finding it lacking any mirth or malice.

“Alright, deal,”.

Pope’s stoic expression melted away. “I knew you’d agree, you won’t regret it,”.

“Just tell me the deal,”.

Pope swung his beer over in your direction. You were seated at a booth, crammed on one side in between Benny and Will. You were laughing, Benny must have cracked a joke. Pope’s motion caught your attention—you turned your gaze to the bar, where Frankie and Pope awaited the team’s fourth round of drinks. Your eyes lingered on Frankie. You paused a moment, mulling over your words, before deciding against speaking and turning back to Benny and Will.

Frankie interpreted Pope’s gesture in an instant.

“No, Pope, that’s not fair and you know it. You know how long I’ve—”

“You agreed to the deal, fair and square,”.

Frankie sighed, rolling his eyes. “What’re your terms?”

The mischievous look that was missing before was back in Pope’s eyes with a vengeance.

“You, me, firing range tomorrow. Ten shots at 30 yards, whoever is most accurate wins. If you win, I’ll cover your paperwork for a month. If I win, you’re asking Aces on a date,”.

Frankie was going to combust. He wasn’t a bad shot, per se, but Pope held all but three of the squad’s sharpshooting records. The only person who ever gave him any competition was you. You. Frankie still couldn’t believe Pope had brought you into one of his little games. Pope had known about Frankie’s feelings for you before Frankie himself had. Pope knew how much he cared for you, and yet here you were, smack-dab in the middle of one of Pope’s deals.

“I—”

“A deal’s a deal, Fish. A man’s only as good as his word,”.

Frankie spared another selfish glance over at you.

He was screwed.

***

Frankie’s eighth shot rang out, echoing off the interior walls of the range. He was edging out Pope, but barely. Pope craned his head, eyeing the small cluster of shots in the center of Frankie’s target sheet.

“Fuck’s gotten into you today, man? You never shoot this well,”.

Frankie gave Pope a self-satisfied smirk, raising his handgun and focusing his aim at the target. He inhaled deeply, his finger hovering over the trigger. He squinted, aligning his sights carefully. His index finger flexed.

“Hey, guys!”

Frankie missed. Not just the bulls-eye, the whole target. When you were around, he never seemed to hit anything.

“Did you tell her to come here?” Frankie hissed.

Pope merely shrugged. The fucker.

“What’s going on here? I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Your eyes darted from Frankie to Santi, detecting the tension that stifled the range.

“Nope,” Pope said, popping the ‘P’. “Just some friendly competition,”.

Pope took his ninth and tenth shots in quick succession—dead on as usual. Frankie rolled his shoulders, shaking his head and raising his gun towards the target. He could practically feel your eyes boring into the back of his head. He aimed. He fired. He missed. Fuck.

Pope didn’t even bother comparing the targets, and Frankie wasn’t about to grovel his way into a tie, especially not in front of you.

You wandered over to Frankie’s firing lane, scrutinizing his target. “Not bad for a pilot,” you appraised, snatching his ballcap from his head and ruffling his messy curls. Frankie gulped. He threw a pleading glance over his shoulder at Pope.

“I’m gonna head out, keep Fish company, will ya?” Pope walked to the exit, passing the two of you. He clapped Frankie on the shoulder before leaving, leaning in and whispering, “A deal’s a deal,”.

You furrowed your brows, watching Santi walk out the door. “Are you sure nothing’s going on?” You handed Frankie his cap back, searching his eyes as he put it back on.

Frankie did his best to appear unbothered. “All good, Aces,”.

“If you say so,”. You retrieved your handgun, focusing your sights on Pope’s used target. You fired off five rounds, each one hitting dead center. You glanced over at Frankie, who appeared very busy fiddling with the clip of his gun. He was acting downright weird. Conversation between you and Frankie had always flowed easily. Even when you had first joined the squad, Frankie was always the one you went to for advice. You trusted him, and he trusted you—which was why he could never know how much you really cared for him. You had been halfway in love with him within weeks of being reassigned to their team. It had been two years now, and you were sure that if he felt the same way for you, he would have made a move by now. Nevermind the fact that you hadn’t exactly been obvious in your affections. You peeked back over at Frankie, who had been blatantly staring at you while you were lost in thought. He turned back to his clip quickly, hoping you didn’t notice.

“Seriously, Fish, what’s going on?”

He said your name. Not your nickname, your real name. His gravity startled you. You set down your gun and walked over to his lane. He inserted a few more rounds into the clip before setting the handgun down with a thud. He raised his gaze to meet yours, and your heart pounded in your chest.

“I—I’ve been meaning to tell you something. For a while now, actually. I care about you, you know? You’re amazing—you’re smart, and funny, and you’re good at what you do. I like you, and I know this probably isn’t what you wanna hear—”

“Frankie,”.

“But I’ve spent the last two years of my life dancing around this—this secret. And you and I? We don’t do secrets. You deserve—”

“Frankie,”.

“To know the truth. And the truth is, I have feelings for you. I know I shouldn’t, I know it’s unprofessional, I know—”

You took his face in your hands, and he paused his soliloquy to look at you. Really look at you.  You smiled.

“Frankie, I have feelings for you too,”. Just like that, a burden was lifted off your shoulders. Frankie grabbed your wrists like a lifeline, your palms on his cheeks grounding him.

“You do?”

You nodded in response. Frankie sat in stunned silence, his warm brown eyes never leaving your face. You noticed his gaze dip from your eyes to your lips for just a moment, and you sucked in a breath.

“Please just kiss me already,”.

The corners of Frankie’s lips quirked up into a grin, and he leaned in. He paused a moment before connecting your lips, and when he did you saw stars. His lips were soft against yours, and his hand travelled up to cup your face. Your hand tangled in his hair, knocking his ballcap off in the process. One hand travelled down to the small of your back. He pulled you ever-closer, your lips moving languidly against his. You reluctantly broke off the kiss with a soft laugh, your eyes locked on his gentle smile—that is, until the two of you recognized the slow clapping coming from behind you two.

Pope was back, this time with Benny and Will in tow.

“Fucking finally,”.

“How long have you been here?” Frankie grumbled, obviously irritated at the interruption.

Will chuckled before responding, “Long enough to know we won’t have to deal with any more lovesick glances from across the bar,”.

You tilted your head. “You knew?”

Benny rolled his eyes. “We all knew,”.

[anika-ann]

The Troubles Are Lurking in Queens - Pt.2

Of  Not So Funny Billionaires and Terrified Husbands

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader        Word count: 2960

Type: Two-shot, reader insert

Summary: When an arrogant lawyer demands his paperwork right now or better yet this very moment, you’re a good wife to Matt and decide to deliver the documents yourself – for your husband’s mental health sake (and for the sake of the meeting he’s running to).

The catch is the said lawyer has his office in Queens – and whoever said Hell’s Kitchen was the least safe place in NYC was clearly lying. Also, Tony Stark is... Tony Stark.

Warnings: swearing, mention of attempted assault, mention of past torture, some blood, Tony being a jerk

Part 1

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Spiderman apparently didn’t take no for an answer.

The office wasn’t on the way, but Spiderman delivered the papers anyway; you thought Davidson’s secretary’s face was priceless at least as Spiderman with a woman in his arms knocked on the window of her office, but anyway. Your way included a lot of not exactly secure flying around in the vigilante’s thin and somehow strong arms (enhanced strength?), only holding onto buildings via some sort of a web fibre and it was a fucking wonder you hadn’t either ended up smashed on a side of some building or hadn’t puked by the time you magically landed on the roof of the Avengers Tower.

Also, you were pretty sure some of your blood had rained down on someone and it was an awful idea you couldn’t shake off.

You were clutching your chest trying to catch your breath as the kid let go of you slowly, gentlemanly making sure you wouldn’t faint. Well. Now he was concerned about that?

“Welcome, sweetheart!” Stark’s voice sounded behind you as the billionaire walked in your direction with his arms wide open.

You on the other hand looked at him murderously. Was this really necessary?

“You know Mr. Stark?” the kid asked in awe.

You swallowed the ‘unfortunately’ line and pressed your lips together.

“Tony. What a wonderful surprise. How are you these days?” you wondered with a fake smile and he grinned wider, enveloping you in a hug. You didn’t reciprocate the gesture too happily, but you… tried.

“On a first name basis with Mr. Stark and hugging him? Holy hell!”

You rolled her eyes and spent a precious second thinking what the kid would say to what was coming next. The moment Tony withdrew, you slapped him, because you really needed to slap someone today. Tony was lucky your dominant hand was cut and you used your weaker one.

He tried to set his jaw right as if it really hurt anyway. The Spiderkid fell into shocked silence.

“That’s for using a poor kid for dragging me where I don’t want to go just for your fun or whatever,” you hissed and Tony licked his lips.

“Yeah, okay, I deserved this one.”

“Glad you acknowledge that.”

You tried not to think too hard about that you slapped a man who had once saved your husband’s life. You sighed, coming for another, this time gentler, hug, still wary of not staining his t-shirt with your blood. You probably failed.

“Sorry I couldn’t make it to the wedding.”

“We were hoping you wouldn’t,” you teased, feeling a bit guilty for a) slapping him and b) being cranky. Tony was a bit of a dick, but a good guy. That was why you had decided to send him an invitation along with the other Avengers, who had saved Matt’s life one of the times he had got over his head and you walked into the Avengers Tower begging for help.

“I bet it was boring without me.”

“Totally,” you laughed, letting go of him.

“So… I understand this is some sort of a reunion, but a) I’m not a kid,” the teenage vigilante defended himself and you bit your cheek to stop yourself from protesting. “And b) shouldn’t her hand be handled? I mean, that’s why I brought her here?”

You smiled at the kid. He was cute. “Yeah, Tony. Shouldn’t my hand be handled?”

It was handled, by doctor Cho, who was usually taking care of bullet wounds, knife-in-liver wounds and stuff like that. She was incredibly nice, especially when you considered the shit she was dealing with.

The doc was just finishing your bandage – you only needed two stiches – when your ringtone cut the air and all four present – you, Doctor Cho, Tony and Spiderman – jumped a little.

“Hand me the phone someone, please?”

“FRIDAY, who’s calling?” Stark called out and you were kinda hoping it was just for show. They wouldn’t know that without looking, right?

“Contact saved as Matt, sir.”

How the fuck the AI could tell that? Also… ah-oh.

“That’s a little boring  I was expecting something more original. Sugar-bear. Bumblebee. FRIDAY, put it on speaker.”

You just gaped. How?! And was he serious?

“Oh, and mute her voice.”

“What?!”

“Are you okay?” Matt’s panicked voice demanded from the speakers in the corners of the room and you breathed in to calm his fright – wherever it came from. “Davidson called there was blood on the papers and-“

Oh crap, learning that must have been terrible. Also, you were sure Davidson had been a dick about it as well, probably complaining about dangerous biological material in his office.

“I’m fine, Matt,” you reassured him.

His terrified voice called out your name. “Are you there? Can you hear me?”

You opened your mouth uselessly. Was this for real? Could he really not hear you somehow? What the fuck?! Why would-

“Hey, buddy!” Tony chipped enthusiastically and your blood ran cold. Oh no. No, no, no, no…

Even through the phone, you could hear your husband’s breath hitch. “Who are you? How did you get this phone?”

You could only imagine Matt’s sightless eyes flickering wildly as he was trying to figure out the worst possible bloody scenario.

“I’m-“ you started, but Tony rolled his eyes at your attempts.

“Relax. I’m just having a little fun-“

Spiderman rose to his feet as he apparently wanted to protest too, but Tony shushed him.

“Who are you? What did you do? What do you want?” Matt’s voice changed dangerously, switching to the Daredevil persona and demanding answers. “I swear if you touch one hair on her head, I’m going to tear your limbs off one after another-“

Spiderman shrieked at the cruel threat and the way it was delivered. You gently pushed away Doctor Cho, standing up and making your way to the billionaire with your blood boiling.

“Tony, stop this right now,” you growled, your voice resembling the one speaking through the phone. He was scaring Matt out of his mind. Couldn’t he see that this wasn’t fun?

“Come on! Light up! I’m just gonna-”

“Don’t you dare to hurt her!” Matt thundered and Tony actually jumped at the sound of Matt’s teeth grinding.

“Alright, alright! Jeez, can’t you recognize an old pal? Jesus, DD,” Tony complained and the room was suddenly very quiet.  

“Tony, let me to talk to him.”

“Let her talk to him, Mr. Stark,” the kid supported you and you were sure he made some sort of puppy eyes behind his mask.

Matt didn’t react to learning the name of your ‘captor’. Which meant he was probably really pissed or too shocked. Or that Stark somehow blocked his voice too.

“Tony-“ you pressed and he sighed in defeat.

“Yeah, yeah, FRIDAY-“

There was a beep.

“Matt, it’s me. Are you there?” you asked softly, hearing his sharp inhale. “I’m okay-“

“She’s injured-“

“Shut up!” you shouted Tony down, spinning to him with your hand raised in warning. He had already said enough.

“Well, you are,” Spiderkid noted carefully and you gritted your teeth.

“I’m okay, Matt. I’m in the Avengers tower-“

“Medical wing,” Tony supplied helpfully and you grabbed the nearest thing – which happened to be a metal platter – and lashed it his direction. He shielded his face, silent ‘ow’ escaping him as the improvised weapon hit his hands.

“I’m on my way,” Matt exclaimed.

“Wait-“

There was only a dialling tone and you whined. You measured to Tony with fire in your eyes.

“I’m sorry?” he offered, shrugging with his palms up.

“You are such a dick! Complete and utter dick! You scared the shit out of him!” you yelled at the man who wore almost genuinely apologetic expression. But you didn’t care if he was sorry. He almost gave Matt a freaking heart attack! He had no idea what had-- you squatted for the platter, fully intending to use it again as the idiot was in your reach. “You fucker, you dickhead! You careless fuck-up!”

Each of the insults was accompanied by a hit with the platter. No one stopped you. Tony wisely covered his head. You were sure you it hurt as hell anyway, but somehow it didn’t sooth your nerves.

“I’m sorry, okay?”

“The last fucking time someone had my phone and talked to Matt was when I was kidnapped by Wilson. Fucking. Fisk! He threatened to break my spine to paralyse me, you. Selfish. Arrogant. Bastard!”

Fuck, you were crying and your hands were shaking, suddenly feeling too weak.

You let go of the platter, overwhelmed by the memory yourself; the knife cutting through your skin when the huge man hadn’t liked your answers to his questions, his threats, Matt’s terrified voice on the other end of the line-

The clatter of the platter on the floor snapped you back into reality, but the images didn’t disappear. You brought your hands to your mouth to muffle the scream that drew to your lips.

“Madam?” sounded hesitantly behind you and you tried to blink away the freaking tears and chase away the nasty memory, unable to respond to the kid. It’s gone now, it’s in the past, I’m okay, I’m okay, Matt’s okay— just give me a fucking minute dammit. “Madam, can I hug you?”

You burst out laughing at the request; hysterical laugh during an emotionally heavy situation, the first sign of insanity.

“Oh my god. Yeah, yeah, you can, kid.”

The vigilante obediently wrapped his strong but toothpicks-like arms around your shoulders, embracing you tightly yet gently. He avoided applying a pressure against your belly with surprising grace. He didn’t even call you out on the ‘kid’ addressing. You were really starting to like him.

Maybe it was the costume – the armour – but it was kinda soothing. Maybe it was the knowledge he had to deal with Tony too often, so it felt like he was an ally of yours. You leaned into the hug gratefully and he caressed your back.

“You’re good at this,” you mumbled into the strange material of his suit.

“Thanks, madam.”

You chuckled at the addressing and asked him to call you your first name.

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Tony bullied you into a check-up; like the periodical check-up all pregnant women had to attend.

“Tony, I was at doctor’s three days ago-“

“But I upset you and stressed you big time. Don’t you think you should have another examination? Just to be sure?” he pressed, trying to make puppy eyes. Vainly – you had enough training at resisting the puppy eyes master Matt Murdock himself, Tony’s attempts were nothing compared to that.

“Tony, honestly, I just want to get the hell out of here ASAP,” you cooled him down. You were still pissed at him. A lot.

“FRIDAY! Call Doctor Cho back!”

And just like that, the poor doc who had silently disappeared during the fight had to come back and examine you again. With USG and everything. You didn’t have the strength to argue anymore and you didn’t want to make Doctor Cho’s job harder than it already was by working for Tony Stark in the first place.

You didn’t expect anything being wrong – yet, you couldn’t supress the relief washing through your body as the doctor told you both you and your baby were fine.

Also, the check-up filled the time, so you didn’t get the opportunity to pace nervously. You were getting dressed again when Matt’s voice entered the room.

“(Y/N)!” he called out and you wordlessly asked the doctor to get rid of the curtain separating your and the rest of the world. Not that it made a difference to Matt – it did to you.

“Matt, hey!” you greeted him, rising from the bed so he could see you were perfectly healthy. The impression was ruined a bit by your head spinning and the need to support yourself onto the bed, but hey, you tried.

Matt was crossing the distance between you two in rapid pace, his cane folded in his hand, his glasses covering too little of his worried expression.

“What happened? Are you okay? I mean, of course you’re not-“

“I’m okay, Matt,” you assured his softly as he threw the cane away carelessly and enclosed you in a bone-crushing hug. He nuzzled his nose in your hair, breathing in deeply. You kissed the side of his neck. “I’m fine, Matt, I swear.”

“I smell blood,” he protested, wounded by the lie. “When I heard someone else on the phone, I— I-“

You wrapped your arms around him gently, one of your hands interweaving in his hair, stroking comfortingly. He squeezed a little tighter.

“Tony is a dick. I’m so sorry he scared you. And… I’m sorry if Davidson was being an asshole about the papers-“

“Do you really think I care about some arrogant self-important asshole right now?” he asked hoarsely and you sighed, your lips caressing his skin again.

“No. But I’m still sorry.”

“ ‘kay. Noted. God, I’m glad you’re okay, sweetheart. I shouldn’t have let you-“

“Don’t even finish that thought,” you warned him, smacking his back a little. He caressed your lower back in return as an apology for trying to make a guilt trip. You knew he would be still blaming himself even when not saying it out loud, but you could work with that better. And later. In private.

“So… this is the guy who threatened to tear your limbs off, Mr. Stark?” the kid asked slowly and you bit your lip, loosening the hug just slightly in favour to glance his direction over Matt’s shoulder.

Yeah, you could see how this was confusing. After all, Matt was blind and right now looking like a cuddly teddy bear. God, you loved him for how caring and loving he was.

“This is the guy who saved me from getting mugged… potentially shot,” you whispered, feeling Matt’s body going tense at the reminder of the danger you had been in. His hand clutched at your shirt before letting go of you, turning in the direction of the young man’s voice.

“Thank you,” Matt said in earnest, extending his hand for the Spiderkid to shake. The vigilante squeaked, but lost his glove and accepted Matt’s hand.

“You’re— you’re welcome, sir. She… she was a great help actually, it was pleasure to save her, though she almost saved herself on her own-” he babbled nervously and Matt covered the back of kid’s hand with his left palm.

“I’m still grateful. And it’s Matt.”

The younger vigilante let out a surprised sound. “No prob, sir— Matt, sir.” The corners of your lips twitched. “I’m Spiderman. But you probably know that… or not. ‘cause you haven’t seen me in the news— oh god, oh frack, I’m really putting my foot in my mouth-“

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Spiderman. Thank you again for saving my wife’s life.”

The two men finally released each other’s hands and Matt immediately turned back to you as you approached him. He wrapped his arm around your waist, kissing your temple lovingly, his thumb stroking your hip.

“So…” Stark started, making you both spun in his direction involuntarily. You couldn’t help but shot him an annoyed and angry look. Matt was significantly better seeing you were okay, but make no mistake, you were still incredibly pissed.

“Mr. Stark-“

“Alright! I’m really sorry, okay? Really, really sorry. It was a dick move!” Tony admitted and you were almost surprised at him acknowledging his mistake so openly. He turned rather to Matt then. “But you don’t need to worry, Murdock, I got her checked up and both of your girls are fine.”

Your heart stopped. Matt froze in the middle of his soothing periodical motions. The room fell into silence. You were afraid to even breathe in.

Did he just… did he-

“Both— both of my girls?” Matt choked out at your side and your slow brain was still processing the information you were just given. Oh my god.

“Yeah, Cho managed to check them up both.”

“Both… my— my-- girls,” Matt stuttered and his posture shifted slightly so he could face you without stopping touching you. “We’re-“

You and Matt had never asked your doctor whether you were having a boy or a girl. You had refused to know when the doctor had offered, because you didn’t want to know before Matt would and then you had talked to Matt, learning he wouldn’t want to know either.

Well.

Hell.

You were… having a girl. You didn’t know which option you had wanted until this moment, you just knew you somehow felt you were having a boy. Apparently, you were wrong.

And it was beautiful. So beautiful you felt tears in your eyes. You were having a girl.

You gulped, reaching out to uncover Matt’s eyes, putting his glasses away before squeezing his hand on you lightly. You raised your face to his; his brown eyes were… shining with gold threads and twinkling with tears just like yours.  

You couldn’t let out a single word. It turned out you didn’t have to.

Matt’s free hand reached for your cheek, cupping it tenderly and his lips met yours in a careful light touch. And another one, And one more.

“…they didn’t know the sex and I just told them, didn’t I?” Tony’s voice sounded from an awfully huge distance and you smiled into the kisses you kept receiving, curling your fingers in Matt’s hair, returning his affection.

“I think so, Mr. Stark. I don’t think they mind too much though,” Spiderman hummed, sounding a bit amused and absolutely moved by the scene in front of him.

“Cover your eyes kid, the adults are having a moment.”  

“Cover your eyes yourself… this is way better than a movie,” the teenage vigilante mumbled and they all pretended they didn’t hear it. You just secretly decided you adored the kid.

But you could never love the kid more than your own; your own babygirl.

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M.M. masterlist

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So… this happened? Somehow? Oh no, I made it fluffy… :D

Thank you for reading!

[vampiresuns]

The Stories Of Dead Kings | Prologue, Part 3

✴︎ THE STORIES OF DEAD KINGS ✴︎

4.5k words. In which the Palace continues to bring out things long ago buried within Anatole, the investigation commences and he makes an unlikely friend. CWs: Memory loss, death penalty.

You can read the rest of Anatole’s apprentice timeline series here.

Antu did not like the white dogs. A shame, because Anatole loved that breed — he had only seen pictures of it, drawings in books and a couple of paintings, but he thought it was a fantastic one all the same. They looked so funky and given his preference for raccoons, it was no surprise he favoured fuzzy, slightly funny looking but beautiful animals. He’d pet them later. 

Antu liked the voice that called to Anatole even less. While he didn’t like it either, Antu reacted with a viciousness Anatole had never seen before.

Stay back! You’re not wanted! He threatened, his voice echoing in Anatole’s mind as he bared his teeth at the open air.

No! We don’t like it in there! You can’t make us go!

With the dogs pulling him through his clothes upstairs, he had to hold onto Antu for dear life, fearing his familiar would launch himself at the dogs. It made him a blur of hands, fur and hair. 

“Ouch, Antupillán, don’t scratch me!”

As soon as they’re in the dark hallway, the dogs vanished, but Antu did not seem any more calm. Still in Anatole’s arms but ready to jump if needed, he was still growling at nothing and every time Anatole tried to make an advance, trying to walk down the hall to explore the room by the end of it, Antu tried to bite his hands. 

“Fine, fine, fine, Antupillán, you win.”

When the ghostly voice purred behind them, Antu climbed over his shoulder before Antole could stop him. Of course his raccoon threw himself at an apparition, because demanding fair trials out of the Countess of Vesuvia wasn’t excitement enough for the furball he had for a familiar.

✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎

Anatole tried very hard not to growl at Portia when she brought him breakfast, but the Palace kept hours that were too early, even for him, who had become a relatively early riser out of habit — waking up at dawn was too much, what had happened to seven AM? At least she had come with coffee, coffee he chugged while he listened carefully at her.

He had no clue about how to feel about the clothes, though the shirt was a dream come true. Cross-tied and with a V neck opening, big bishop sleeves, and matching, deep emerald green pants and a sleeveless long coat. The coat had a gold embroidered trim, and it reached his ankles, It would flutter deliciously as he walked down the hallways, the clack of the black boots with a golden plate shoe tip against the marbled floors.

Everything was miraculously his size; he didn’t still comprehend nor trust the Countess’ motives for giving him clothes, especially when he had brought his own. Anatole might not have a personal tailor, but he was very dedicated and careful about his clothing. He always strived to be well dressed, so what was the reason for it? Ease him after his opinions last-night? That felt too much like trying to buy him into the Countess' good side. However, while it was true he didn’t know how to feel about her, he felt it was unfair to automatically assume the worst. This required further analysis. 

Portia left his room and he looked at the clothes with a sigh. He examined for a minute longer as he ate another pastry. He looked at Antu, who was still pretending to be an angel after jumping from his arms to fight a ghost out of all things. 

He was eating some grapes. 

It’s pretty.

“We don’t accept gifts from people we don’t trust.”

Who’s we?

“Oh, is that how it is?”

You have never been very good at lying to yourself.

“And you’re awfully insightful this morning, huh?” 

Antupillán continued eating his grapes, this time in silence. He had a point, Anatole supposed. It was a gorgeous outfit but he hadn’t been lying to himself when he said he didn’t accept gifts from people he didn’t trust, and after last night, he wasn’t sure he was on the best terms with the Countess, even if she did seem civil enough afterwards. He couldn’t wear this, even if he really, really wanted to. It would be wrong, it would betray his principles, it would—

It would have to do because when he turned to check where he had left his clothes, he realised the Palace’s staff had taken all of them to laundry them. When Portia had mentioned that, he had assumed they’d only take the clothes he was wearing last night.

“Fuckers.”

He hated people rummaging through his stuff. He was very, very close to deciding to throw all caution and professionalism to the winds and be contrarian as could be. It was a bad idea, but there was a part inside himself which had been kept dormant for the most part. That part made him want to remind people he wasn’t trapped somewhere with them, they were trapped somewhere with him.

Perhaps another time.

✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎

The Palace’s library was one of the most gorgeous places he had ever set a foot in. From its doors to its high shelves, with the high windows with stained glass and the plants, Anatole wished he had the entire day to get lost in it, explore every section, even the ones he wasn’t interested in. He wanted to ask why was the library locked up under so many keys, but he didn’t know if he’d get an answer, or if Portia knew, or if the Countess would be up to more of his really incisive questions about things she would deem out of Anatole’s range of incumbency. 

If you asked him, Libraries should be public.

Despite how they left things last night, the Countess seemed to be in a great mood, complimenting his looks and treating him amiably. Anatole detected no deception nor flattery in her words; it threw him off for reasons he didn’t have the time to decode right now. Perhaps he had become too used to people shading half a light on things for reasons bigger than Anatole himself, perhaps the reason was another. It’d have to wait to be pried into. 

“You told me you read.”

“Constantly, as long as my brain lets me.”

Silence fell between them. Well, this was starting to get awkward. 

“Thank you,” the Countess said.

“What for?”

“You are very genuine,” she said. Anatole didn’t know what to do with that. Taking his silence as encouragement, the Countess continued. “Reading is a wonderful gift, shared by all citizens where I come from, but it’s woefully uncommon here.”

He hummed, squinting back at the Countess. He took a sharp breath as he made himself count to ten. He had felt the same need to speak without knowing what he would say as before, but this time he could anticipate it would be something angry. He didn’t need to know where these things were coming from to know he was about to ask the Countess whose fault was that, and then he’d be really, really done for. 

He kept his mouth shut this time — Antu biting him softly (but strongly enough to make him hiss) helped. Time and place. He was better than this, he was taught better than this. 

Wait, what? Taught what? By whom?

“Concentrate, for fuck’s sake,” he muttered between his teeth.

“Did you say something?”

“That this is truly a wonderful collection.”

“Anatole… you are my guest, if you wish to return here, you need only ask. But for the moment I would have your undivided attention here.”

There was something deeply intimate about prying into someone organisational systems. How they cluttered, why they cluttered, the organisation methods employed, the thought process behind it and what you could infer of it by looking. The way documents were studied and how and where notes were taken. In that sense, Dr. Devorak’s desk teemed with information.

It might have felt like prying a little too deep into him, but Anatole thought it was a fair exchange after he broke into his house. An eye for an eye wasn’t the best justice system, but hey, a little pettiness couldn’t hurt, besides, investigating the murder was his job now. 

His musings were tampered by the mention of Asra working for the palace during the Red Plague. He didn’t remember living through it, though he had always assumed he must’ve been present for it, given their earliest memory was of a post-plague Vesuvia. It had ravaged everything. Plagues were like wars, they seldom discriminated. Not that Anatole knew of war beyond books. If that wasn’t the case this was, once again, nor the time or place to second-guess himself.

Do you know what an explosion sounds like, Asra?

After promising the Countess he would meet her for dinner, he set himself to work. Anatole loved few things more than a good puzzle without a solution, and once he grew determined he did nothing half-ways. 

Lacing his fingers together, he stretched them, a waft of satisfaction dawning over him as his joints cracked. 

“Let’s figure you out, Julian ‘Magic Cards’, hm?”

He didn’t expect his search to lead him back into the city, but with Antu in tow he’s determined to follow the trace his magic had cast into its streets. Vesuvia was a wild thing, a glimmering thing in the lowlights of dusk making Anatole wonder why hadn’t he insisted in seeing more of it, wondering how much memories of it could he be missing. What used to be his favourite spots? His favourite streets? His favourite garden? 

He wasn’t one to dwell in the past, living in the past was no way of living, but that didn’t mean the past didn’t matter. He just wanted to be able to reclaim it, to say ‘this is mine, this took me where I am today, this made me myself, just like who I am today will make me the myself of tomorrow’. He looked at the past not with wistfulness but searching for an explanation.

The area he found himself in was crowded, urbanistically speaking, shabby, probably in need of repair, and while he didn’t stop chasing that trace something in his heart (and his temple) pulsed. Something unknown and caged, something which begged to be let out, something he couldn’t make out what it was. He hated not knowing, he was getting tired of getting all these feelings, these knowledge, these looks and these visions without any sort of explanation. This time he didn’t file it away for later, and yet whatever he felt, eluded him.

The word he was looking for and failed to find was Love. A word which would continue to escape him for a little longer, as Julian Devorak himself manifested out of an open door. Finally, he thought, throwing hypothesis and chasing them was starting to give him results. 

Falling into a barrel and stepping on Antu’s tail were unforeseen outcomes. So was falling face first into Julian’s chest after he helped him out of the barrel, both of them looking at each other like deers startled by light.

After Julian let him go, he held Antu, petting him as a way to apologise for stepping on him by accident. 

“I have a name, you know? Shopkeep isn’t it,” he said as he looked at the Rowdy Raven’s sign.

“Dare I ask what brings you to this neck of the woods, Not-Named-Shopkeep?”

Anatole caught himself smiling, but as he tried and failed to find a way to explain what had happened the smile faded from his face. Words eluded him and he had to admit he was very grateful for Julian taking it in stride. Because how could he explain any of this without giving away his new-found position? Or at all? He couldn’t find it in him to articulate such a thing — not to mention the glint in Julian’s eye as he turned to him was much more exciting.

It tied neatly to the trace of Anatole’s magic, like a master key he had been desperately looking for. 

“Rumour has it you’re working for the Palace,” Julian sneered. “What happened to not being a snitch? I’m sure— well, by now— you’ve heard some interesting stories about me.”

“As interesting as you’re prone to not explaining yourself, though both of those might be gross understatements. And I take great offence in you thinking I’m a snitch. Don’t you think that had I told anyone you’d already be found?”

“I’m very slippery and you don’t know where to find me.”

“I found you now.”

“By accident I’m sure, not to say you aren’t talented and magnificent and all those things the rumours say… but you haven’t heard my side of the story.”

“Julian?”

“Yes?”

“Stop assuming the first thing about me and how I do things, will you, sweetheart?” 

Julian’s cheeks went as red as his hair. Anatole let out a pained whine. Wherever that had come from, Anatole didn’t want to know and he expected it to not come forward again. He apologised; Julian, having composed himself, thought teasing him was a good idea but Anatole levelled a look at him that convinced him otherwise. 

He sighed. Julian was right: he’d only heard things from the Palace and muddled rumours. A wanted poster was a statement of capture, not an absolute truth and it was obvious to him there was some sort of power imbalance playing against the doctor. So when Julian said he could get him a drink, to get the story and to pay him what he owes him from the reading, Anatole found it difficult to say no.

“I don’t usually accept trading payments unless previously discussed, or the party is in need, but you know what? I think I’m willing to do an exception for you.”

“Oh, please, you work for the Palace now, I think you’re set on the money.”

“You know, I haven’t discussed fees and wages with the Countess, do you think we’d be cell mates if I did?”

Julian laughed. One drink couldn’t hurt, right?

✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎

The flurry that erupted after the caw of the Raven would be etched into Anatole’s mind forever, becoming part of his daydreams unsanctioned. It was the kind of chaos which brought the familiar thump of an inconclusive memory. The Doctor might not have told him his part of the story, Anatole was well aware, but he did give him some insight into his circles and his person. Not anyone who was wanted by the Palace would shield the Palace’s investigator in the shadows so they didn’t get in trouble for hanging out with said wanted person. 

As he vanished after an awkward and unfinished thank-you-for-not-being-a-snitch, Anatole turned to make his way back to the Palace, only to be met with Ludovico, who introduced himself and tried not to stare at him while he hailed a carriage for Anatole. 

Anatole paid no mind to the staring. Whether it’s leftover staring from the day before, or staring driven by having found him in such an odd quarter of the City, he chose to ignore it. His apology for summoning a carriage for him despite him being the one who said it was a bad idea to leave the Countess waiting, was another thing altogether. 

It was true Anatole didn’t particularly enjoy carriage rides, but why would a Palace guard would know such a thing? Did it have to do with how he felt yesterday when crossing the gates? As he stepped into the carriage he tried not to think about it, afraid he’d overthink his way into a migraine. 

Relieved as he realised he was in time for dinner, Anatole took in the exquisite smells of what is definitely too much food. He was too hungry to think about the quantity for now, perhaps he could inquire about it after he ate something. 

His appetite seemed to hold itself back at the mention of the Courtiers, almost evaporating altogether. He still forced himself to eat, he needed it after such a day in the City, while he listened with rapt attention to the Countess' words. He dabbed his mouth with a napkin before taking a drink from his cup, doing the same afterwards. That he didn’t have any issue distinguishing the cutlery from one another somehow didn’t call to his attention like his next words did.

“I know, and I promise you I’ll be careful.”

“You already know my Courtiers?”

“Oh no, no such thing it’s just—”

“One can never second-guess one’s intuition, is it not right Anatole?”

For the first time in two days, when he smiled at the Countess it was genuine. “Exactly.”

Just like he knew the painting, the gardens, that other version of himself walking through them and his opinions on subjects which required more education than the one he thought he had, he somehow knew the Court — being equal times prepared to brace himself for meeting it, and unprepared for whatever he may find.

He knew deep inside he could trust the Countess to have his back on that, however. It’s the way the word ‘Courtiers’ felt from her mouth: she didn’t trust them. 

The mention of Julian’s hanging brought him back from wherever place of commodity his mind had gone into. The faraway look in the Countess’ eyes almost eluded him. Almost.

“Countess…”

“I am thinking about what you said last night, Anatole, but I expect you to understand I must seek to tend to my people’s needs.”

“And you think they need executions?”

“I think they need to see justice done.”

While restricted and mild, Anatole couldn’t help to look at her with some semblance of disappointment, his unspoken question dancing between them.: And is this justice? Is justice confession and punishment? 

She truly must’ve given it a thought to not react with the same impetu as last night. Instead she changed the topic with a weary sigh, claiming such were tomorrow’s matters and stating having questions for him — not of his day, like Anatole had feared, but of himself. Being surprised at the change of disposition the Countess had shown today didn’t cover it. Bewilderment might. 

At the mention of friendship, bewilderment fell short too. Sensing his apprehension, she smiled at him invitingly, jovially, exposing her hands to him in a gesture of trust. 

“I am afraid I do not have many friends, nor know enough people who fear not my position in order for them to tell me what their true opinions are.”

Anatole sighed. “Countess, I do not wish to antagonise you when I say those things, I find it hard to help it, that is all. I’d like to think if I was in such a position the responsibility was so heavy I needed council, I would wish it was sincere. It’s not up to us how history remembers us but that doesn’t mean we have no choice in the matter. I believe our choices make us who we are, whichever those choices might be.”

“You are awfully impertinent,” the Countess said with a playful tone, “which must surely give you an advantage at life.”

Anatole laughed with his mouth open, his head thrown back. “No, but it does give me a strong personality. Tell me Countess, what do you wish to know about me?”

✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎

Out of all the things he found about the Countess, perhaps finding out she too understood the feeling of homesickness for a place you could no longer return to — because one couldn’t or one didn’t wish to — was the least expected out of them all. Anatole knew he had been born in Bgraz, Balkovia, but that’s all he remembered of his hometown. He didn’t even remember how he had ended up in Vesuvia, though the more he thought about it, the more he suspected he had some kind of relation to the City beyond his deceased Aunt having a shop there. 

He didn’t tell the Countess as much, not even sure of how to word it aloud but it was refreshing to find someone with whom he could talk about these things.

The night was welcoming and cool. The stars were visible in the inky night sky, making Anatole wonder how they would look in Balkovia, that unknown homeland he couldn’t remember. The Countess’ words about Anatole not being quite like she had imagined him, or the intrigue she felt towards him pulled him away from his thoughts.

Anatole wondered if she, like Julian, was also a victim of the rumour mill. Word in town was she was a tyrant, yet she didn’t seem malicious — malice was something Anatole’s language filter picked up with incredible ease and it left a feeling in him hard to ignore. It didn’t just make him immediately stand on edge, it also felt like tarr on one’s skin. Hot, icky and venomous. The Countess felt lost, not malicious.  Someone with good intentions and not enough turn out, as he had previously felt.

“Tell me, Anatole… Why did you come to the Palace? Why did you agree to help me?”

“I believe I said it was a matter of justice, last night.”

“You did, but when I asked you to come, you didn’t know what for.”

She got him there. The offer of trust from the Countess would not last if he wasn’t honest with her — perhaps if he was, he would be able to convince her to reconsider the way in which the Devorak affair was being conducted.

The answer was obvious, wasn’t it? 

“Because it felt right. I knew that whichever answers I’ve been seeking, I would find them here.” Anatole existed in the liminal space between his heart and his head. They were extensions of one another. Living a full life required both. 

When the Countess asked him if he had any questions for her, reassuring him he could speak freely, Anatole already knew what to ask and in his defence, the Countess shouldn’t have taken it as a vague question, because it wasn’t. The claim was just an excuse to elude the topic; the stage they were in, of whatever it was she, him and whatever else bigger than them had sent in motion was looking at them in the eye and avoidance would help exactly no one. 

“You know I mean the murder investigation. The Count has been dead for years, so why now?”

“Ah, that is a right question to ask. Vesuvia is in dire need of help. Order needs to be restored… and I am in the unique position to restore it. However, I intend to lead by example, not fear. I must show the city I am capable. I have so many plans for Vesuvia. I was to see this city flourish… Perhaps you’ll be able to help me with those plans, Anatole. I could use more competent people on my side...”

Her loneliness was heavy, almost too heavy, the feeling pouring into her speech and threatening to cover Anatole under a heavy blanket, merge with his own unattended loneliness and trap him in place forever. Seen and unseen, craving connection and something more he couldn’t name nor grab, no matter how hard he tried to.

“It’s funny,” Anatole said, a knot in his throat. “I did not expect you to be as lonely as I am. I never allow myself to admit it out loud, let alone in front of someone else. Yet here I am.”

“You already know I won’t do things whatever way. I want to find justice, and I do not believe justice lies in a hanging. You are right, your position is unique, but it’s also risky,” Anatole paused to take the Countess hands in his. His next words came from the same unknown place as they did all those times he felt compelled to speak, though they were much kinder this time: “When we know something is not right, we do not settle. People like us, whatever that means, were not thrusted into the world to settle. Power wielded without reason, without justice, without kindness, without knowing the subject you must serve will always lack. I will not tell you what to do, you are capable enough, Countess, to figure that out on your own, but I will tell you this, as a friend: truth is the only thing worthy to be built on, and when we find that truth we plant ourselves in front of whomever dares us to move and we say they move. The truth can’t lead you astray, as unpalatable or hard to accept as it might sometimes be.”

Out of all the things he expects the Countess to tell him that he’s sweet is not one of them. He’ll take it.

✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎ ✴︎

Just between you and me… I think Count Lucio had a lot of enemies, too. Alone in his bedroom, having returned from exploring and chatting around with her, Portia’s words swirled around him, letters formed by a light orange haze, forming and evaporating in front of his eyes. Portia’s words came from rumours but they were enough to cast reasonable doubt about what might have transpired that night. It was kind of her to look after Anatole, so the least he could do was to take her words to heart. 

Originated in rumours or not, Portia was right. 

Going out with her was as strange as it was enlightening. He was sure the Chef, Hestion, had said something to Portia along the lines of how he expected Anatole to remember his way around the kitchen, only he had called him ‘Secretary Radošević’. Perhaps it had something to do with the investigation, but it made Anatole feel odd. 

The servants in the Veranda had been very welcoming, but almost too welcoming and he was sure he had caught a couple of them speaking about him —not as if this was his first time in the Palace, but as if this was him returning to it. Speaking of returning, someone had congratulated him for becoming the main investigator for the case and how it was nice to have him back. Ignoring the way his vision splotched as best as he could, Anatole had only thanked them and turned back to Portia feeling lost and ill. 

Normally, Anatole paid no mind to out of place comments. If someone demanded something of him he couldn’t remember, he tried to remove himself from the situation as fast as possible, but these felt different, the words staying with him even though his and Portia’s nightly adventures had finished. 

What weighed him down the most, though, was the Countess wanting him to join them for the announcement tomorrow. It made sense, but he had a terrible feeling about it.

Antupillán was nowhere to be found. Anatole hoped that he had a good reason to be missing at a time like this. 

[cattles-bians]

Damie Vibecca exes AU part 4

post directory

[em note: this one is LONG i had to split it!!!]

obsetress: deflecting to viola protecting becs

obsetress: once they are dating

obsetress: and thinkin thoughts

em: viola asks rebecca if she wants to put a hit out on peter and rebestiecca is like????

em: that’s hot but

em: u can do that? also maybe don’t. but mostly that’s hot

obsetress: i was literally gonna say peter is still her ex and he's a persistent fucker even though it's been a year at least and viola's response is... not far off from canon!

obsetress: becca just stares at her for a minute and then she's cupping viola's cheek and murmuring "come here" and pulling her down

obsetress: they're like kissing or whatever and rebecca's murmuring "that was hot, you know" between kisses and viola's like "oh?" and becca's like "don't be cheeky, you know it was" and vi just grins against her mouth

em: I’m Really Invested In This Crack Ship

obsetress: ok but rebecca tells jamie and dani about vi offering to put a hit on peter and they're both understandably and reasonably aghast and rebecca's just like (takes a sip of wine, ducks head, smiles to self) i think it's sweet

obsetress: dani and jamie look at each other out of the corners of their eyes

obsetress: (later, dani agrees how absolutely out of line it is but also admits that it sure does feel nice to be so taken care of sometimes)

obsetress: (jamie throws a pillow at her)

obsetress: also thinking about secret soft vibecca are sometimes and how horrified dani and jamie are the first time they see it with their own eyes

em: jamie and dani excessive PDA queens get a taste of their own medicine

em: it’s so funny that i’m like. always on the verge of viola horny posting but as soon as it’s vibecca i’m like look at these babies. these beautiful babies

obsetress: viola and rebecca kissing one (1) time at brunch and jamie, arm slung around dani’s shoulders, is like “oi, no one wants to see that” and dani, leaning into jamie, one hand in her lap, crinkles her nose and rebecca’s like “y— you’re kidding, right?”

obsetress: also like. we talk a lot about what vi does for rebecca but also like

obsetress: vi massive abandonment issues and rebecca just

obsetress: she just stays

em: ur gonna Kill me here lies em

obsetress: i know i didn’t mean to and then i just

obsetress: i can’t think too hard abt them or i will Melt Down but just like

em: look if rebecca can see the best in someone as awful as peter

em: viola isnt nearly as terrible

obsetress: esp vi post dani like

obsetress: she’s obnoxious and haughty and neoliberal but

obsetress: radical love goes a long way!

obsetress: rebecca grounding her thru touch and rebecca slipping her hands around vi’s and easing them loose when vi’s hands start to clench and rebecca just pressing a kiss to viola’s temple and murmuring “i’m here, yeah? with you. not going anywhere”

em: like i just think after eddie dani wouldnt like, just go w the flw any more. like i think abt her challenging viola occasionally

em: lovingly! gently

but like, holding her accountable

em: also violas absolutely little spoon

em: like i know blah blah viola top rebecca top leaning switch but viola little spoon

obsetress: “actually viola” (vi always knows she’s in trouble when dani calls her viola) “that was really hurtful” “i’m sorry you feel that way, dani, but—“ “i don’t need you to be sorry for how i feel. i need you to show me you’re sorry for what you did”

em: dani calls vi the Full Name and viola knows shes in trouble bc thats at least 4 extra vowels w danis midwest accent

em: it is always v surprising how much like, working w kids equips you to work w adults. b/c at least w kids you dont have layers and layers of social nuance to work through. u can just say 'hey. that was hurtful and your apology sucks'

obsetress: meanwhile dani’s over here trying to explain to vi intent vs impact and how no, it’s not semantics or nuance, it’s actually kind of a chasm

em: i kind of love like um. look viola is terrible but she wasnt born terrible

obsetress: she just has a lot to unlearn

em: and id belive that even if i wasnt a ghostfucker thats just rogers theory of self actualisation babyeee

obsetress: dani viola big fight n dani's like

obsetress: "i'm sorry and i love you but it's not my job to fix you, vi" and she just breaks down and she's like "it's not"

obsetress: jesus why did my brain take THAT turn

em: wrow

em: its ok i was gonna be like 'so they obvs break up at some point....'

obsetress: anyway viola just stares at her for a second and then she's like "you put the 'i'm sorry' before the 'i love you'"

obsetress: and dani just stares at her for a long time and she's like "yeah. i guess i did"

em: HANNAH

em: BESTIE

obsetress: i KNOW what the FUCK

obsetress: anyway dani's like "i guess i did" and vi's like "is that it then?" and dani just looks at her with her puffy eyes and is like "i think so"

obsetress: dani clayton queen of saying "i love you" over and over in the midst of breaking up w someone

em: well! she has a lot of love to give but, she also has to love herself sometimes!

em: i was thinking abt scenarios n i just remembered that. whole video rental shop thing so i think that slots in nicely

[em edit: u can read here]

obsetress: god i love that lil scene

em: dani sends viola a tentative little meme peace offering and they get back to talking and its nice but maybe a bit awkward and viola mentions like, going to therapy and seeing someone for help n its

obsetress: vi's stewing on "i can't fix you" for weeks and then she's begrudgingly. BEGRUDGINGLY calling a therapist

em: like its still awkward and dani is still nursing some wounds but she can ALSO be happy for someone she used to care about

em: still cares about!

obsetress: she's always gonna love her in some way or another

obsetress: but yeah also like. smth to viola being too stubborn to do anything she doesn't wanna do except suddenly when dani clayton gets involved and that feels p canon in its own way too

em: 'i cant fix u' weird bc every time i see viola im like 'i can fix her'

obsetress: it's like ur in my head bestie

em: how do u think viola and rebestiecca met

em: not that u think abt it or anything

obsetress: MAN i was just thnking

obsetress: in this universe how did dani and jamie meet but i guess it can still just be bly tbh

obsetress: as for vi and bestiecca hmmm

em: am so caught up in the joy of fucked up interpersnal dynamics i forgot a meet cute

obsetress: honestly part of me wants to be like

obsetress: on some dating app but a dating app for posh people yk

obsetress: but then i'm like

obsetress: that takes all the meet cute fun out of it

obsetress: oh GOD

obsetress: i got it

obsetress: ready

obsetress: so like viola landlord we know this

obsetress: and then i was watching whatever ep three the other day and bex mentions wanting to do public law right

em: oooooh

obsetress: bex public housing attorney

em: OOH

obsetress: they meet at some conference

obsetress: hit it off prob fuck lbr

obsetress: and then

obsetress: comedy of errors

obsetress: whoever stays the night, they sleep together again in the morning, breakfast in bed, bex is like "so what do you do, anyway"

em: hjgbjshmdnfbmngbmhnbgs,hndg m,shndgds

em: YES

obsetress: and then they just

em: WHEEZES

obsetress: also i like to think rebecca invites vi back to her hotel room and vi is so charmed by her taking charge ("""taking charge""") that she lets her

obsetress: and then like

obsetress: god for a while what if they just like

obsetress: they're so mortified and morally and fundamentally at odds but like

obsetress: the sex is so good???????

obsetress: that they keep just meeting up and then

em: romeo and juliet situation

obsetress: yk how it goes

obsetress: the sex is good and they see each other as like

em: thats so fucking good thank u hannah

obsetress: super rare intellectual equals whatever

obsetress: thank u i am exceedingly proud rn

obsetress: honestly at this point i'm

obsetress: rebecca and vi uhaul change my mind

obsetress: like not too quick because isabel but, quick enough to be considered

em: so the joke is like. obviously 'extremely pda damie' but when rebecca and vi are alone they Also cannot get their hands off each other

obsetress: they both just. worry about appearances too much meanwhile

obsetress: tweedle dee and tweedle dum in the overalls and mom jeans dgaf

em: accidentally seeing ur friends compromised is just part of the package of being friends w damie. however jamie accidentally catches vibecca in the act and shes Horrified

em: hypocrits

em: danis like yeah what do u. think theyre doing

em: dani is nonchallant bc shes dated viola of all people

obsetress: i mean could you imagine

obsetress: between vi and dani's just

obsetress: insatiable libido

em: HADNT IMAGINED UNTIL NOW BUT YEAH

obsetress: dani, very seriously: jamie, when two women love each other––

em: dani likes dating jamie bc it means she can top occasionally :) maybe even more than occasionally

em: jamies like ooh my god i knw i know how are u so casual about... rebecca... and ... viola... (dani just pulls her in fr a smooch)

obsetress: they have each other's clothes half off and dani's like "i'm so casual because i dated her too, babe" and jamie's like "can we not have this conversation right n"

obsetress: also i still have this on my clipboard from earlier we bopped around so fast but

obsetress: vi and bex hooking up early on:

obsetress: rebecca knocks on vi's door at, like, 6:00 pm after work, vi opens it, rebecca just grabs her and kisses her, vi pulls her in, becca kicks it closed behind her, vi shoves her against the door and they're kissing against it, then vi's ducking her head to kiss along rebecca's neck and rebecca's like "how many people did you evict today" as she angles her head and then viola's finding her lips again and tugging at her lower lip with her teeth "probably not as many landlords as you shortchanged today" and rebecca's laughing and pushing her backwards down the hall as viola tugs at her blouse

em: GOD. viola is probably like

em: ok, disclaimer: fuck all landlords

em: but at least in this fantasy world perhaps viola is 'fairly' 'reasonable' n shes absolutely playing it up for the hate sex angle n rebecca Maybe Assumes shes lying but

em: stupid morons in love

obsetress: yeah

obsetress: i think i've mentioned this before but like

obsetress: now that it's more fleshed out

obsetress: then they're at drinks one night (and when did it go from just sex to drinks? neither of them could tell you) and viola's kinda quiet n moody (n rebecca already knows she Gets Like This sometimes and that she'll usually say whatever she's thinking eventually) and finally she's like

obsetress: "i have... a daughter" and rebecca's just like "tell me about her" like it's the easiest thing in the world

obsetress: and viola's head snaps over and she stares because she was.... not expecting that

obsetress: and so viola does

obsetress: and rebecca's just like "i'd love to meet her one day"

em: soft.....

obsetress: they always turn back to soft

obsetress: like they have a fuckin mind of their own

em: rapidly oscillate between horny and soft

obsetress: that's the mood

em: violas probably like. yknow, rebecca's young and up and cming n she probably assumes rebesticca isnt interested as something as full on as a kid but shes like 'do you have any photos'

obsetress: fuck!!!!!!!!!

em: rebeccas like do u think i didnt. see the photos at ur apartment lmao

em: theres a childs drawing on the fridge

obsetress: rebecca has known almost from the jump but was

obsetress: giving viola her time

obsetress: also smth smth giving her time instead of time wearing her away etc etc we're all in hell

em: cracks knuckles

em: bestie....

obsetress: pls

obsetress: it's what i deserve

obsetress: first tho

obsetress: consider

obsetress: the way viola's face lights up when she's talking about isabel and showing rebecca all the pictures

obsetress: hold pls

em: soft......

obsetress: this one chief

obsetress: right here

[foramomentonly]

Your meet ugly fics are sooooo amazing!!! Can I please request Malex for 55..?

Author’s Note: Yay, I finished another one! Thank you for the prompt, anon, and I’m sorry for the ridiculously long wait.

CW: Michael exhibits some unconscious racial bias here that leads to mistaken identity. I want to be transparent in case that isn’t what someone wants to read right now or ever.

my twin clearly did something to piss you off, but you obviously don’t know I’m a twin so I’m listening to you tell me how much of an asshole I am and am very amused and it’s making you angrier

“Hey, Manes!” 

Alex turns at the familiar, but unexpected voice and freezes. Michael Guerin is coming towards him, striding across the parking lot. Michael Guerin, with his wild curls and scoop neck tee shirts, his letterman jacket heavy on his broad shoulders and a pencil perpetually stuck behind his ear. Michael Guerin, who Alex has been hopelessly, laughably in love with for at least two years; probably since middle school, if he’s being honest with himself in a way he definitely wasn’t ready to be in middle school.

Alex is so caught up in the miracle that is Michael Guerin wanting his attention that he doesn’t register Michael’s anger until he’s being crowded against the Manes family vehicle, a shabby behemoth of a Ford Explorer, with Michael bearing down on him. He doesn’t touch Alex, but stands obstinately before him, denying Alex the space to open the driver’s side door and escape into the car and blocking his path forward into the open expanse of the lot. A few groups of students are lingering, jangling keys in hand while they make plans and wrap up conversations, but no one is close enough to notice them, and Alex is grateful not to have an audience to whatever is about to go down between the skinny, emo kid and the genius, varsity football captain.

“What the fuck, Manes?” Michael demands, hazel eyes blazing gold in the bright, afternoon light, nose and brow wrinkled in a sort of grumpy way Alex can’t help but be charmed by. “What did you do to my sister?”

Alex blinks, tries to take a step back, but he’s already pressed against the door of the car and he succeeds only in kicking up dust and a small collection of pebbles onto Michael’s sneakers.

“What?” he asks. “Your sister?”

“Yeah, my sister, asshole,” Michael parrots. “You broke her fucking heart!”

Alex takes a deep breath and bursts out laughing, doubling over and nearly headbutting Michael in the process.

"You think this is funny?" Michael hisses, jaw tense and teeth bared.

“I do, actually,” Alex manages between breathless giggles, wiping tears from his eyes with the cuff of his sweatshirt.

Michael growls in frustration, but he doesn’t move, his hands flexing impotently into fists at his side.

“You really think you can dump Isobel a week before prom, call her a ‘frigid bitch,’ and I’m not gonna have anything to say about it?”

Isobel?

Isobel Evans. 

Alex connects the dots quickly, ties noticing Isobel Evans’ puffy eyes in class together with Michael and Isobel’s apparent relationship and his own brother Flint’s posturing comments at the dinner table earlier in the week and reaches an easy conclusion that wipes the amused smile off his face.

“Sorry, wrong guy,” Alex says, and lurches forward, knocking Michael back with his shoulder and pulling open the car door. 

“Bullshit!” Michael replies, stepping forward again and holding the door open with one hand, gesturing to the Explorer with the other. “This is the car that always picked her up and you’re the fucker who was in it.”

Alex whirls around so fast his backpack falls off his shoulder, and he leaves it in the dirt as he advances on Michael, poking a vicious finger into his own chest.

“I’m Alex Manes, I’m a junior, and I’m gay,” he spits. “My brother, Flint, is a senior and, apparently, as shitty of a boyfriend as he is a person. We both use this piece of shit to get around, but we’re definitely two entirely different people.”

“B-brother?” Michael stammers, taking an uncertain step back and staring at Alex in confusion.

“Yeah, man. Brother,” Alex says with a snarl. “Believe it or not, there are two Indigenous guys in this shithole of a school. But I guess I can give you a pass since we’re actually related.”

Michael deflates, shoulders slumping and head falling forward into his waiting palms.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, dragging both hands roughly down his face and raising his chin to meet Alex’s gaze directly. “I’m so sorry. I never really met the guy or saw him up close and I—Yeah, there’s no excuse. I’m sorry.”

Alex rolls his eyes; he’s still offended, but Michael’s apology seems sincere and in Roswell that’s a lot more than he’s come to expect.

“Yeah, well,” Alex mumbles, picking his backpack up off the ground and knocking it against the body of the Explorer to shake loose the dust clinging to the bottom, “whatever. Flint’s at some ROTC thing. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Wait,” Michael says, stepping forward to grip Alex’s arm before he climbs into the car. Alex glares at him and Michael rescinds his touch quickly, but Alex’s heart still flutters at the momentary feel of Michael’s strong, calloused fingers wrapped around his bicep. “Can I ask you something?”

“Why not,” Alex sighs, tossing his backpack into the back seat and leaning against the door he just slammed shut, arms crossed.

“Why weren’t you afraid of me?”

Alex scoffs.

“What?”

“You didn’t even flinch when I was comin’ at you and,” Michael puffs out his chest and shakes out his shoulders, presenting himself to Alex exaggeratedly, “I’m pretty intimidating.”

Alex laughs despite himself, shaking his head, and Michael grins as the tension in the air dissipates just enough for Alex to admit he still isn’t impervious to Michael Guerin’s charm.

“You might be hot shit now,” Alex says, and Michael raises an eyebrow in interest, “but I remember scrawny Michael Guerin who had to leave the room every time Ms.Turcios fed her snake a live mouse in middle school.”

“So, what I’m hearing is you think I’m hot,” Michael says, smiling slow and suggestive, and if Alex didn’t know better, he’d think Michael Guerin was flirting with him.

“Even if you don’t know who I am,” Alex continues, and Michael winces, “I know you, Guerin. And you’re not a guy to throw a punch unless you have to.”

Alex watches Michael’s expression shift, the corners of his mouth dropping as his smile softens, his eyes growing wider and his brows raising as though in surprise. He looks younger, open and vulnerable and hopeful; he looks every bit like that goofy kid from middle school whose good-natured showboating in class always made Alex laugh and whose innate intelligence took his breath away. And Alex realizes he hasn’t seen Michael look like that kid since the head football coach recruited him out of gym class freshman year, moved him into his basement (if the rumors are true), and dumped the weight of a lackluster team on Michael’s shoulders, reviving his own career in the process.

“All right, Alex Manes,” Michael all but whispers to himself, stepping close enough for Alex to smell his refreshingly subtle body spray, to catalog the highlights in his curls brought out by the sun and the flecks of green in his eyes, “prepare to be known.”

Alex laughs breathlessly.

“What does that mean?”

“It means what are you doing right now?” Michael flicks his eyes toward the Explorer, a bit of swagger creeping back into his smile. “Wanna give me a ride?”

A drive into the desert, a long, intimate conversation, and an impromptu blow job later, Alex thinks Michael might just have been flirting with him after all. He also thinks, for the first time in his life, he owes Flint one for being a dick and for hogging the car.

[macklives]

alright, im actually kind of in the mood to unpack some stuff regarding karkat's character and the way alternia works actually, so i dont mind giving this a go. and while act 5 isnt completely finished yet (so this is an analysis post for act 5 up until page 2305), there is still more to explore, and im pretty sure i have a lot more to read regarding both karkat AND alternia. until then, i will give a general layout as to what i know so far and how i can expand this in a psychological way (especially considering i did my psych exam so my mind is FRESH from studying)

alright, starting with what seems to be the deal with the hemospectrum, theres a total of 12 blood colors. HOWEVER, one of those blood colors is a "mutant" blood which is unwanted in troll culture as it is, well, "mutant", meaning whoever has this blood will get brutally slaughtered. hurrayyy. im guessing it is even lower than aradia's rust blood, as she is allowed to live but is the lowest on the hierarchy triangle. meaning karkats blood is not even ON the hierarchy triangle and simply buried underground where they hope he stays. so its not exactly pleasant to be living in a society where everyone is trying to KILL you or at least keep you away from everything.

from what i remember, troll reproduction is a vital aspect in their culture, that everyone is forced to mate and drones will come by each house to collect the genetic material. this is mandatory apparently, and if someone were to object, they will be “culled" as quickly as they could say no. alternia seems to be really keen on the whole "blood and carnage" thing, which means their probable solution to anybody breaking the law, is to kill them on sight and just leave them there to rot - regardless of who they are and what families they comes from or have. trolls are free to kill whenever or whoever they please without any governmental repercussions. which means revenge upon revenge happens without any policy.

however this is very important when looking at karkat, because karkat may not be able to do the whole reproduction process (not that we necessarily want him to, im saying this in terms of how its mandatory for every troll and there will be a time when the drones WILL come for karkat). but as he is already a mutant and if they were to "collect" from him, they would find out his blood regardless of how he hides it. they will either cull him for saying no, or cull him for his blood. karkat, in this sense, is doomed regardless. which makes his character much more interesting.

and keep in mind alternia kind of sucks, because from the looks of it, trolls are constantly tested throughout their lives to prove themselves to society that they are allowed to live and survive. but ONLY if they are the strongest among them. alternia wants to become this fearful planet where the weak die off and only those proven worthy can stay to grow up and slaughter more of their kind until the world is nothing but blood thirsty strong murderers. im not too sure who is governing alternia but they can suck a dick if they think this is how good morals work. alternia only really has one way to solve things which is to kill those who question/fight back, OR to kill those who CANNOT fight back essentially. which puts all the trolls through a double edged sword where they cannot do anything but follow the guidelines given to them by troll's society and government, and try to survive as much as they can until then.

if i remember correctly, when it comes to the law side of things. if you look at it from terezi's introduction where she explains prosecutions with her plushies (lemonsnout ect ect i forgot the term for them lol), she said "you are guilty until proven innocent" which is the polar opposite of "innocent until proven guilty” used in OUR own society today (tho i guess we are by far the "good guys" in this situation, but we are far different than how trolls live their lives). anyways, what this means is that everyone dies regardless unless theres literal proof that they have not done the crime. even so i wouldnt put it past them to do nothing about their case even WITH proof. terezi even goes to say that technically there is no way to deal with the law on alternia, and most of crimes get solved through death. she even demonstrates this by how easily she hung the "suspect" and flipped a coin to determine his fate. however, even with the coin landing on the side of safety, where the suspect were to be released, she said "im blind remember i cannot see this coin" and essentially "killed" him. while terezi may have just been playing with her plushies, theres something we can take from this which dictates how their actual court cases are actually solved.

NOW, vriska (yes ik pls bare with me here, i will not make it about vriska but i do have a point here), from the last few pages i saw, can basically kill her friends in an instant, without any remorse. i can tell she sees this as the most "necessary" solution for her problems. i wouldnt say its for survival, but she does do it as a way to provide some sort of safety on alternia. she is a higher blood, and apparently the high bloods are known to kill whoever they please as long as its convenient. and since trolls have this whole fad of "killing the ones who cause you trouble so the problem is out of the way", she is wired to think its the only solution when threatened or when you dislike a person. 

god, she killed aradia because she wanted "revenge", because she wanted to get back at aradia for tormenting her with ghosts EVEN IF aradia did so because she threw tavros off a cliff in the first place. this may have worsened their friendship, KEEP IN MIND THEY WERE FRIENDS, but NEITHER, and i mean neither terezi/vriska/aradia, had any remorse if the other dies as long as there was a reason. in the story, vriska didnt care what happened to tavros because she disliked him, therefore becoming pretty bias over his fate. because of this attempt at killing, aradia didnt care what happened to vriska either, and neither did terezi. terezi sold her out to one of the most powerful beings on their planet, solely because of their revenge cycle. as long as the troll in question did something "malicious”, then that plays a factor in their morals. vriska gave no second thought to killing both of her friends (or at least attempt to with tavros), terezi also tormented john in act 4 which led to his “doomed timeline death” and sold vriska out after she realized vriska wouldnt change. so no fucking WONDER karkat tries to hide who he is, he's overly cautious to not let it slip out because even the people he calls friends could backstab him at any given time considering theres LITERAL EXAMPLES OF THESE TROLLS HAVING DONE SO.

to karkat, he sees this as dangerous, which is why he even CALLS vriska dangerous to begin with. she might not even hesitate to kill him herself or maybe sell him out to the drones, because 1. she may not want to be a witness to something society actively seeks to destroy and 2. she cares more for her survival than karkats. EVEN if they were friends (re: aradia and vriska and terezi). so it just shows. 

on that note, i find it funny how karkat indirectly distracted vriska after she baited him with the question of his blood in a past conversation, which prompted karkat to monologue about troll romance. he was, yes, VERY interested in this topic to start with, but it was a nice little bonus for karkat as to not be found out by the one person who would most likely kill him even if it wasnt on purpose. however, we do not know how this will play out IF she does find out, we just know karkat is in the right to be scared of the theory.

and, alright i do have to mention this, while karkat may have been an angry fucker to START with, who spites the world and throws out insults every chance he gets, i feel he does this as more of a survival instinct as well. he doesnt care what he says to people no matter what they rank on the hemospectrum. they dont know his blood color so he feels he has some sort of immunity, but he just needs to keep it hidden. it also may just be his personality, as he IS a character who was given specific traits and andrew went along with it without so much thinking about plot. yet if you look at this from more of the metaphorical route, think about it with uhhhh lets say the perspective of how dogs work. for example, when you put a chihuahua next to a doberman, a doberman is more of an excited, energetic dog whereas a chihuahua will rain hell down on anybody who so goes near them. sometimes this is to make up for their size, to seem as menacing as the larger doberman, as they have nothing else to fend themselves with. another way to look at it is, if you see a bear (i forget if its black/brown or grizzly) you make yourself seem like the bigger person by scaring it off with sounds and eventually it will leave you alone. these sort of tactics work in the sense of survival. this is sort of what karkat could be doing, he uses insults and a defensive shouting to not really "hide" himself, but to have some sort of way as to not be found out if people start to question. someone asks him "hey karkat whats your blood" he goes "FUCK YOU, FUCK OFF, END OF STORY" which could make a person go "yo sorry dude forget i ever asked". so this could be a factor as to why he is so crabby, however on the other hand, he is crabby because that is also his character. andrew probably thought yo cancer = crab = crabby. however i do like how he is perceived and the whole "mutant blood" really made me do a double take on how he views life himself. he has to always hide who he is or he will get physically killed. alternia would take joy in finding out he does not belong there because lets face it, alternia is a bitch of a planet.

this also brought me to ask the question, why does karkat want to be a leader if hes so scared of what would happen to him if he were to be found out? which then, at first i said lol this is just karkat, he wants to a leader because he just wants to be the leader, he likes when things go to plan and that he the most say in their sburb plans considering he thinks everyone else is a "dumbass". to which, i then thought about it more and went ouch what if hes a leader because he knows hes not valued enough in society, that he somehow wants to feel some sort of importance in the world, so he wants to become a leader. i imagine younger karkat, not knowing why his blood is so undermined, finding out he is not wanted and suddenly on the most wanted list without having even DONE anything. even TAVROS said he was on that list, but only because he was weak and had no back-bone, here karkat may have been strong but no matter what, he was to be culled BECAUSE of his blood. something he cannot change no matter what. imagine a little kid knowing he will die at any point because of who he is (rlly sounds familiar if you think about it). so of course, he hides himself from the world, but do you think for an instant, little angry karkat wants to simply be FORGOTTEN about? i doubt that, he wants to be heard, he doesnt necessarily want to be rejected as he knows he will be, so while he does hide his blood, he wants to have a voice no matter what. when being a leader, people dont reject you, they LISTEN. they all may not want to because karkat is just a fucking ticking time bomb, who can lash out at any second, but i feel theres now a reason why he has this superiority complex. he wants to sort of become the person he knows he never will become (if you put it into that perspective). so thats kind of why im giving him the benefit of the doubt here.

i would also like to point out a sort of.... comparison?? not with the dogs but with unwanted children in a family household. this doesnt necessarily apply to karkat, but sub in family household with society and it might as well. (on that note, a warning/viewer discretion, if you have any problem with this kind of discussion, i wouldnt read further into this paragraph and skip to the next one) alright, the unwanted child psychology basically deals with the process of a child which is neglected by their parents, and/or know that they were never wanted in the family. i read an article a while back when we were discussing this in a lecture, we were browsing multiple people's perspective on the matter, and one said "An affective relationship may be suffocating to [the unwanted/neglected child]: it’s a defense against intimacy of which they know nothing. Normally they fluctuate between egotism and deep feelings of inferiority. They don’t understand what a balanced and healthy self-esteem looks like." it explains how the child who grows up in an unwanted home admits great emotion deprivation, because the child's bonds of affection are extremely fragile, and this can lead to both egotism and feeling like they are inadequate. and it really strongly shows karkats personality. we havent gotten that much from him in general, but considering how he uses this egotism to cover up the fact that he may be doomed, really shows the similarity. i liked this short article so i want to give some points to take into consideration, specifically this part: "It will be very difficult for unwanted children to build healthy relationships of affection in their adult life. Love is a foreign language to them. They don’t know how to decipher the codes and much less how to build them. It’s very hard for them to need and to be needed. That’s why, more often than not, they completely shirk their conflicts with peers and superiors, or do nothing but generate them. They speak incessantly about the broken relationship that marked their arrival in the world. A person with such a background will need help to get through those abysses of love that live in their heart. The most important step is that they recognize that their discomfort doesn’t depend on who they are, but the circumstances that led to their being." it may not be 100% tru for karkat but theres a small portion of it that can link back to karkats view on life and how being this mutant can really change who he is as a person. and i hope you can see the similarity between karkats character and this form of psychology. yet i also do not fully know the depth of karkat vantas. however i do hope it continues to build up in this way, as it would be both interesting and make us feel more for him as a person.

alright, i think if i write any more i will never stop aghjsk, which is a bit too much for a sunday afternoon, basically to sum up this post, trolls are violent and karkat will be killed if hes found out, even by his friends if it comes down to it. so karkat cannot really trust anybody, hes alone and imagine the thrill he had when he saw jack cut his hand to show the bright red blood? that he finally has someone LIKE HIM. imagine when he finds out about the kids. so i believe in his growth, while he needs to get a better vocabulary, i do get why hes so defensive all the time. because hes both scared and unwanted. and he wants to make up for it.

and i guess with all that being said, you can tell i now have a slight soft spot for the kid lmao

[ohtheseboysilove]

Too far (2) [Roger Taylor x F!Reader]

Words : 6, 200 k + (I got a little carried away)

Summary : Roger and Reader were having fun until he went too far with another girl.

Note : Quite different from the first part but I quite like it ! I promise the nice anonym who asked about this fic to post it this week so here it is, hope u like it lovies ;)

No warnings.

"Where is (Y/N) ?"

Roger’s lips disappeared into a thin line when he heard Freddie’s words. Of course he would asked about you. He absolutely adored you. As well as Roger did. But he fucked up everything and now he would have to listen to his band mates giving him a lesson about how stupid he had been.

"Not here" The drummer grumbled and he reluctantly made his way to the dressing, not in the mood to make conversation.

Three days after the fight, he was still moping about it, hating himself to destroy the best thing in his life.

"And why that ? She is the best at highlighter and eyeliners !" Fred complained, admiring the way the bodysuit was making his arse looked in the mirror.

They were having a photo shoot today to promote the recent album and, usually, you tagged around, loving to doll up the boy and especially Roger.

"She was busy" The blond lied and grabbed the clothes resting on chair for him.

The lead singer plopped a hideous hat on his head and came closer to his band mate, looking at him suspiciously.

"What did you do, Roger fucking Taylor ?" He groaned and crossed his arms, his foot tapping impatiently against the floor.

Brian and John glanced at the drummer, curious to hear the story too.

"I fucked up, alright ? I had been bloody stupid and now, whatever was between us, is over” Roger mumbled, his cheeks red under their intense gazes. He was ashamed to tell what he did. "Can we focus on our work now ?”

"You better tell me now what you did, I’m not leaving this—"

"Don’t use big words now Fred, we’re suppose to do the makeup in two minutes" Deaky cut him and the singer took a deep, annoyed breath.

"After the photo shoot, you explain everything" He shoved a finger into Roger’s chest before storming out of the room.

"Fuckin’ drama queen" The drummer cursed and quickly buttoned his pants, shaking his head.

"He just want to help, Rog" Brian gently said, resting his hand on his band mate’ shoulder. "He is acting like a little bitch but he saw how you like (Y/N). He is not blind, neither I am or John"

The drummer didn’t answer and watched his friend leaving with an encouraging smile. He inspired and expired few times, blinking away the tears pooling at the corner of his eyes and once he was sure he wouldn’t sob pathetically, he followed his friend.

**

"I let that chick, the one who stayed with me most of the evening at your party, I let her suck me in the bathroom" The drummer admitted and immediately earned a concert of groaning.

"Tosser" Deaky commented and rolled his eyes, not very surprise. "Why on earth did you do that ?"

"Aren’t you the two of you a thing ? Or at least, was ?" Brian frowned his brows a bit lost, his friend was an enigma sometimes.

"We weren’t officially together" Roger breathed quietly. "It was a mistake and now I broke her heart" His shoulders sunk under the culpability, your crying face still lingering in his mind.

"Alright, I really want to kick your ass because you bloody deserved it but, you look like a sad puppy so I take it like you regret it enough" Freddie said and the drummer nodded, shame drowning him. "Fine, what did you do to make (Y/N) forgive you ?"

"Nothing’" Roger mumbled, his hand rubbing awkwardly on the back of his neck. And by the look on Freddie’s face, he knew it had been a mistake to reply that. "She told me to not bother calling her" He weakly defended himself and Brian smacked dramatically his hand against his face.

"Roger ! Honestly are you daft or something ?" Freddie scolded him as he fished a cigarette from his packet.

"So you didn’t try to contact her for the last three days ?" John asked with arched brows, wondering what was wrong with him. Roger’s ears burned and he felt like he maybe misread the situation. When he shook negatively his head, the bassist sighed. "She must feel like shit now"

"You cheat on her and then you don’t even fucking apologise ?" The lead singer exclaimed, slapping Roger’s head, calling him a stupid fucker.

"I didn’t cheat on her ! We weren’t even together properly speaking ! And she kissed that Ricky guy before, just to piss me off !" The drummer suddenly stood up, he was already feeling guilty, he didn’t need his band mates to make him felt worse.

"Please, don’t try to compare in front her a kiss and sucking a dick, Roger. Or you will end up with a bleeding nose" Deaky commented casually, he was already changing in his normal clothes, eager to go back home early.

"I always said that your and (Y/N)’s relationship was bloody weird. And unhealthy" Brian groaned. "Kissing people around to end up fucking each other at the end of the night...who on earth do that ?"

"Piss off Brian" Roger grunted with annoyance. "Coming from someone who cheat on his wife, it’s a pretty audacious thing to say"

Before the curly man could bite back, his eyes shinning with anger, Freddie stepped in front of his band mates, raising his hands to calm them.

"Both of you can shut up, we’re not here to do Roger’s trial. Or Brian’s" The two musicians glared at each other but didn’t reply. "We here because our drummer is incredibly stupid when it’s about relationship" John cackled and completely ignored the blond death glare. "And we all know that if (Y/N) doesn’t come back to you, you’re gonna be a right pain in the ass"

"Always is” The guitarist muttered and barely avoid the shoe threw by his band mate.

"Roger, you’re gonna move your butt from this sofa and go buy (Y/N) a nice gift before dragging your sorry ass to her place and apologise"

The drummer shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t good at apologising. Always saying the wrong thing and ending with making the situation worse than before.

"She don’t want to see me”

"Of course she don’t want to ! You cheat and didn’t call her, the poor girl probably thinking you don’t give a fuck about her" Freddie exclaimed and tugged Roger’s arm, forcing him to stand up. "Go, now"

The drummer mumbled something and quickly changed back into his clothes before sliding on his shoes, his mind thinking about what he could buy you. He wasn’t even sure if you would open the door to him.

"What if she don’t let me see her ?"

"You bloody sleep in her hallway if you have to"

The advice came from Brian and Roger nodded simply, murmuring a low awesome before walking to the closest shop.

**

Roger found himself into a Tesco, wondering hopelessly through the supermarket shelves. Maybe going to a fuckin’ Tesco wasn’t his smartest idea. He passed the kids toys and refused to buy a stupid teddy bear because you would certainly hate it.

He spent more than fifteen minutes looking at the beauty products, grabbing perfume and creams then put it back. The perfumes were awfully cheap — you’re in a fuckin’ Tesco! — and the creams weren’t really nice to offer in his opinion. It was like saying ‘hey here some anti-ageing cream for you, it’s deeply needed!’

Then he thought that a box of chocolates could be nice. Sweet food always worked with you. But even with his deepest efforts, he was struggling remembering which flavour you liked. Certainly not something with mints or fruits, you were more classic flavours.

White, milk or dark. He could perfectly remember that night where you had smoke a join together, naked in his bed and talked about chocolate for a good half an hour. There was only one flavour you would eat but he couldn’t put the finger on which one it was, you deeply hated the two other. He was almost certain it wasn’t the white one, no human normally constituted would like to eat that awful type of chocolate.

It must be milk or dark and if he had to place a bet he would say dark but he wasn’t utterly sure about that. And if he brought you the wrong one, you would certainly throw it in his face and he would make the situation worse. So he forgot about that, no chocolate.

And now he maybe found an idea for you. The red bottle caught his eyes when he walked past by and he was really considering buying it. Perhaps you would find the gift original and funny. Or insulting and too presumptuous. But at least with this one, he was sure what was your favourite flavour. He knew it because he saw this same little bottle a handful of time in your overnight bag. He also used it too, more than once. And you always insisted about how this special brand and flavour was your absolutely favourite, perfectly doing the job and even more.

"Fuck it" Roger muttered and grabbed the little bottle adorning by the tittle cheeky cherry. Yes, he was about to buy lub as an apologetic gift. He was sure Fred would has loved the idea, his two other band mates in the other hand...probably less.

His gaze fell on the bigger bottle next the little one and he swapped them. The drummer wasn’t a bloody tight-wad and really wanted to be forgiven. He paid his single product then walked toward the wrapping station, an old lady ogling him nastily. Yeah, he was probably looking like a serial fucker, putting a stupid bow on a bottle of lub but whatever, you would have loved the gesture, certainly cackling at it if you weren’t absolutely mad at Roger.

"No wrapping, just a red bow please" The drummer mumbled as he dropped the bottle on the counter, feeling the weird look of the boy on him.

"You’re aware it’s a bottle of lub, mate ?" The young employee said, seeming absolutely jaded to be here.

The blond contained himself to not just roll his eyes and telling him to piss off. "I am very aware of what I just bought, mate" Roger scoffed and the boy just arched his brow but didn’t add anything.

The way the employee was loudly chewing on his gum was driving him mad and as soon as he was done with the bow, Roger threw the first note he found in his wallet and put the lub back into his shopping bag.

"You know it’s free of charge, right ?" The young man commented lazily and Roger bit the inside of his cheek, wondering why he was so daft.

"The fuck is wrong with you ? I’m giving you money and yet, you’re complaining" He harshly replied and took back the note, shoving it furiously into his pocket.

"I can’t keep it anyway, supermarket policy" He shrugged, not a tad offended by Roger’s tone.

"Bloody fantastic" The drummer sarcastically said and left in a hurry, hating this day even more.

**

Now he was in front of your flat door, nervously rubbing his chest. He entered the building because someone was apparently moving out, leaving the front door wide open. His fingers held tighter the bouquet of flowers — he bought them after the supermarket — and breathed out quietly. His Tesco bag hanging on his arm, he ran a hand on his hair then knocked on the door.

"Yeah ?" Your face fell as soon as you recognised Roger at your front door, wearing an awkward smile.

"Hey" You didn’t reply and stared at him angrily. "How have you been ?" The drummer cursed himself at his awful starter.

"I have been bloody amazing, Taylor" You sarcastically bit back and started to close the door. "Now can you fuck off ?"

"Wait! (Y/N), please, gimme a minute" He breathed out in hurry, stressed that you would close the door in his face. "I’m here to apologise for the other night"

He looked frankly desperate. Lost. Like a deer caught in headlights. You knew he wasn’t really the guy who usually apologise. But today you didn’t care.

"I don’t want any of your apologies" You replied with a cold voice and the drummer seems surprise by your anger, probably expecting the flowers to make you melt or something.

"(Y/N), baby, please...I feel awful for what I did and I need to apologise—"

"You’re three days late for that, Taylor" You cut him and slammed the door, feeling a tiny bit better for this small victory. Stupid really and it wouldn’t last long but you needed anything to cheer you up these days.

You could hear him cursed loudly then the bag dropped on the floor, you could picture him seated in your hallway, ridiculously out of place with his flashy and rocky clothes.

"I’m gonna stay here until you let me properly apologise (Y/N)” He yelled threw the door, feeling absolutely stupid but determined to win this argument. He wanted to be forgiven so badly.

You didn’t reply and went back at your life, the thought of the blond seating your hallway pushed in the back of your mind.

**

Around ten in the evening, you heard loud voices outside your door and curiously peered through the door.

"I’m not a bloody homeless!" The drummer hissed dramatically, now standing next to one of your neighbours, Mrs Smith, an old lady who was openly racist and homophobic and everything that made young people growing angry against the old ones.

"This is unacceptable ! You can’t sleep in our building, it’s a private property young man !” She bite back and pushed back her round, big glasses on the back of her nose. "You need to find a job, not waiting around to steal money from honest and good people, you punk ! "

"But I have a bloody job ! I’m the drummer for Queen, the rock band !” Roger crosses his arms but the lady didn’t even budge at the name of Queen. "Whatever” He scoffed and sat back on the floor, ignoring the furious glance of the old woman.

"I’m going to call the police, Sir" She threatened and the blond snorted loudly giving her a thumb up. "I’m serious !"

"Go ahead, you would probably be dead by the time they arrived anyway" You couldn’t control the heartily laugh who escaped your lips and the both of them turned toward your door, surprised. You clapped a hand on your mouth and they quickly went back to the argument. "I’m waiting for my girlfriend, alright ? We had a fight and it’s all my fault and now I’m waiting for her so piss off" Roger couldn’t give a damn about being rude to her, the stupid things she said in such short amount of time...she totally deserved it.

She mumbled something between her teeth but entered her flat anyway, giving Roger a last nasty glance. He replied with a fake smile and a little sarcastic wave.

Your heart was beating so fast in your chest after the word girlfriend that you almost didn’t heard Roger spoke to you :

"I’m glad I made you laugh, doll”

You shook your head, he was such a charmer and you would be really stupid to fall back right in his arms. So you stayed silent and walked to bed, the ache in your heart a tad less painful than the day before.

**

Around two in the morning you woke up to pee and couldn’t repress the need to peer through the door. Roger was still here, seating against the wall, his head slightly falling on the side, his mouth apart and you knew he would have a sore neck tomorrow morning. He was cute, you couldn’t denied that. A shiver ran through his body and he automatically clenched his black weather jacket tighter around him, his face twisted with discomfort

"Fuckin’ hell" You cursed but grabbed the little fluffy blanket on the sofa and silently opened the front door.

You wrapped it around his body, knowing that you couldn’t back to sleep with the thought of Roger freezing his balls off in your hallway. You went back inside and finished your night, feeling better after that.

**

You weren’t surprise when you woke up to see that the drummer was still deeply asleep. It was only five in the morning after all. Your shift on Thursday was always early until midday so most of the building was still sleeping. Sometime during the night Roger drifted on the floor, his hands acting like a pillow under his head and the rest of his body curling like a foetus. Your pink blanket tightly held by his arms.

You get yourself ready, sipping your cuppa through the process, mind still half asleep, checking nervously if Roger was still sleeping. You didn’t wanted to confront him so early and before work, you didn’t have the energy for that. Thankfully when you made your way out, the drummer was still snoring. You placed a hot cup of tea next to him, cursing yourself for being too nice to this asshole but you couldn’t help yourself. You knew how hard it was for him in the morning, he loved his good sleep and couldn’t function properly without his tea. Or else he would be a nightmare for his band mates, even worse after sleeping in a hallway.

After all, it wasn’t Freddie, Brian or Deaky’s fault, they didn’t deserve a piss off drummer for their day.

That was your excuse for the sweet gesture, nothing about Roger obviously.

**

When the drummer opened his eyes, every fibres of his body were sore, he knew immediately something was wrong. The feelings was deeply hooked into his chest. The lights were too bright and the mattress wasn’t at all comfortable. That when the events of the night came back, he was in your hallway and he missed you when you went out.

"Oh for god’ sake !" Roger groaned and massaged his sore arms. He just slept at your front of your door for literally nothing.

He felt desperate and useless. Maybe you wouldn’t forgive him at all. During his sleep he crushed the — very expensive —bouquet flower he bought you and he cursed even louder. His head rolled against the walls and his heart tightened painfully. He was worried, extremely worried. About you. About a possible us with you. But the task was more complicated than it appeared to be.

"Fuckin’ cunt you had been !” Roger spat, his eyes slightly burning from the urge to cry. He couldn’t lose you.

But he didn’t cry. Instead, his gaze fell on the fluffy blanket covering his legs then the cuppa clearly waiting for him not far away and a bright smile curled on his face. The tea was lucky warm by now but he couldn’t care less, the thought of you caring enough for him t bring a cuppa and a blanket made the butterflies in his belly crazy.

Maybe all of this wasn’t useless as he thought he was. Maybe there was hope.

**

Roger was waiting for (Y/N) to finish work. It was in less than two hours and for now, the drummer was seating in a little café, taking his breakfast.

A fuming cup of tea. Two waffles covered in maple syrup with bacon on the side. You were the one who initiated him to the delicious world of sweet and sour food, the best combination ever in your eyes. And he had to admit that you weren’t wrong, it was damn good.

He was half-asleep but before catching you back from work he had to buy another bouquet of flowers and your favourite Chinese food. The restaurant caught his eyes as he was walking in the street and he knew you would be hungry after your shift.

"Roger, where the hell are you ?" The drummer rolled his eyes at the dramatic tone of Brian, of course.

"Waiting for (Y/N), still need to be forgiven” The blond was outside the café, in an open phone-booth, a cigarette hanging between his cold fingers.

"But we have an interview today !” The curly hairs man cried and mumbled something away from the phone, probably to Chrissie.

"Well I don’t care, I have better thing to do today" Roger groaned and took a puff of his cigarette, exhaling deeply. "I’m sure you can manage one interview without the talented drummer" He smirked and he could guess that his band mate was rolling his eyes.

"They only are after Freddie anyway..." The guitarist complained and sighed. “We didn’t hear from you yesterday so we thought it went good with (Y/N)”

"Not really, no" Roger mumbled and threw his finished cigarette into the bin next to him. "I barely say sorry and she slammed the door in my face and I spent the night in her hallway like you advised me to do"

"Did you really ?” The drummer was a bit insulted by the surprise in Brian’s voice but he couldn’t denied that he wasn’t the one to do such effort for a girl. “That’s...great, I mean if you really like her you need to explain her the situation, I hope she’s gonna listen to your sorry ass" The guitarist teased gently.

"Yeah, yeah, I hope too. I do really really like her and...hum anyway, wish me luck, I’m going now" Roger rubbed awkwardly his chest, he wasn’t the most comfortable about confessing his feelings for a girl to his mates.

"Good luck Rog" The curly man said truthfully. "I’m gonna say you’re sick to Reid but you own me one Taylor"

"Thanks Bri" He smile lightly and hung up the phone, his hands sweating just thinking about seeing you in less than ten minutes.

**

He was ready. A paper bag filled with hot Chinese, lot of stuffs you liked, in his right hand. A cheap bouquet of daisies in the other hand — it was the only thing he found in the area —, the Tesco bag hanging around his arm with the cherry cheeky lub. The more he thought about it, the more he felt awkward and maybe you won’t find it funny at all.

"(Y/N) !" You slightly turned your head as you pushed the door of your building open and found Roger running to catch up with you. "Please let me explain myself, I know I did a mistake but I want to apologise" He followed you inside, his big eyes pleading you to listen.

You scoffed sarcastically at the word mistake and kept walking, feeling too tired to fight right now.

"Rog, I’m not interested into listening to you" You didn’t spare him a glance and entered the elevator, leaning against the wall in loud sigh.

"But I brought you chinese" He gave you a little, shy smile but you didn’t smile back and pressed the button of your floor. "I know I fucked up (Y/N) but you need to listen me" He stood in front of you, frankly sweating with nerves.

"I don’t own you anything, Roger" You kept your gaze on the wall, ignoring him. The memories of him and that girl was still vivid in your mind and if you looked at him, you were afraid you would just burst in tears. "I told you it was over so don’t lose anymore of your time on me" You swallowed harshly, the lump in your throat making it difficult.

"No, it’s not over" Roger shook his head and crushed his hand against the emergency button, making the lift stopped brutally. You gasped with surprise and stabilised yourself against the wall, sighing quietly.

"Roger, what are you doing ?" You hissed and tried to reach the button but he stayed firmly in front of it, not letting you approached it. "You’re being childish right now"

"I don’t care, if it’s the only way for you to listen to me than I’m fine with that" He shrugged. You knew he was quite stubborn so you simply nodded slowly and crossed your arms. The drummer took a deep breath and ran a nervous tongue on his lips. "I know what I did hurt you but— but technically we weren’t together, (Y/N), you can’t—"

“Great way to start your apologies, Roger” You spat angrily but you could feel tears filled your eyes again.

“Just listen, alright ?” He urged you, feeling you were hurt by his words but he really needed to get through the explanation. “We never had been official, what I did with this girl hurt you but you can’t me mad at me ! You smooched that Ricky guy right in front of me—”

“Jesus Rog ! She sucked your fucking dick !” You threw your arms in the air, angrily. Why men always tried to find stupid apologies when they acted like pig ? “It’s not the same, not at all ! And you fucking know that” You humphed annoyingly, brows deeply furrowed as Roger scratched awkwardly his chest.

“You’re right” He whispered so softly that you turned your head toward him, surprised to hear him agreeing with you. “I shouldn’t have done that. Even if we weren’t together, it was still deeply disrespectful toward you. And I’m very sorry about it” He sheepishly said, his eyes focused on his sparkly pink converses. He looked like a little kid who did a big mistake and needed to apologise after being grounded. “I do like you, very much. I think that why I reacted so stupidly with this girl. I know it’s not an excuse for my behaviour but I’m…still trying to process my feelings for you. Make me do stupid thing” He peered carefully at you, a shaky breath leaving his chapped lips. Almost shy.

You stayed silent. You didn’t know what to say. The last thing you expected was to hear Roger apologised so easily. Saying everything right. You were ready to scream and kicking him out of your place but not to find yourself stupidly quiet in front of the drummer.

“Please, forgive me” He grabbed your hands and tugged you against him, carefully not spilling the Chinese food from the bag. “I wanna be with you, for real this time. No more blurry lines. A couple who goes on date and all that shit”

You felt your throat tighten and your eyes pooled, making you quickly rubbed them. You couldn’t cry. But you could certainly forgive him now.

“You’re so romantic, Taylor” You chuckled weakly, linking your arms behind his neck, cheek pressed against his shoulder.

“I’m trying my best, sweetheart. I could ask some advice to Deaky though” He snorted and rubbed his large palm against your back, clumsily trying to not drop the flowers on the floor. It wasn’t the most comfortable hug but it had a strong meaning. Well, he hoped so. “Can you give me another chance ?“ You could feel his lips pressed a butterfly kiss on your hair, making you relaxed immediately.

You buried your face onto the crook of his neck, taking a deep breath, his familiar odour bringing a smile to your lips.

"I—” You coughed loudly as your breath get stuck in your throat, suddenly too tight to even speak.

You took a step back as well did Roger, surprise by you reaction. Your eyes fell immediately on the flowers that he was holding. The sight only made your eyes widen. Roger’s eyes quickly matched yours as he looked at you, worry wrote inside his pupils.

“(Y/N), you’re alright ?” You tried to take a breath but you couldn’t, you could only feel your throat getting tighter at each try. “Your face is red…why your face is red ? And swollen !” His voice went an octave higher than usual, clearly scared now.

His fingers quickly pressed on the lift button, praying it would open the door rapidly.

“The…” You took little breathes, trying to not suffocate as the drummer cursed loudly, your eyes turning red and puffy making him completely panicked. “Flowers” You spatted with difficulty, gesturing desperately toward the bouquet of flowers still his hand.

He glanced at the daisies completely lost and handed them to you but you shook your head with fear and suddenly he understood what was wrong.

“You’re allergic ?” You quickly nodded, fingers massaging your tight throat, big tears rolling down your cheeks as your lungs burnt deeper each second. “Holy fucking shit” The familiar ding! of the lift made the drummer jumped as the door finally opened.

He ran down the hallway and opened the window before throwing carelessly the flowers through the air. You followed him to the window, more than eager to got some fresh air, hand digging blindly inside your bag until you found your precious allergy pills.

“Water ?” You murmured to Roger, feeling already a tad better from the fresh air but the pills were deeply needed. And quickly.

“Hum…beer ?” The blond dropped most of his things on the floor, clumsily looking for the two beers he bought to go with your lunch, hands shaking under the sudden adrenaline from your state. “Here” He cursed quietly when few drops of the drink fell on his fingers, nerves making his all body shook.

You popped the pills on your tongue and took several sip of the cold drink under the worried gaze of Roger.

“Oh god, it feel good to breath” You sighed, letting your whole body relaxed against the wall.

“I can’t believe I almost killed you” The drummer whined as you chuckled softly, your pads checking if your face was still swollen. Thankfully, it weren’t anymore. “I told you I was bad at apologising” You both sat on the floor, right in the hallway, feeling absolutely exhausted.

“I’m fine” You replied with a little smile, gulping down the rest of the beer.

“Who the fuck is allergic to daisies ? It’s like the most common flowers ever !” Roger ran a hand on your flushed cheek, wiping away the rest of the tears.

“Usually I’m not that bad but the confined space and the contacts with the pollen kind of finish me” You shrugged with an amused smile and the blond shook his head, not believing you were actually joking about it.

“I’m sorry. For cheating on you. And for almost killing you. And being such a jerk”

“That’s a lot of thing to apologise for” You teased and took a look inside his brown paper bag, the delicious of Chinese food tickling your nose.

“Good thing that I got a lot of free time to make you forgive me then” He smiled cheekily and pressed a small kiss on your forehead, his lips resting several seconds on your skin before moving away.

“You can add wrong Chinese order to your list of apologies” You frowned at the sight of the udon prawns and sighed dramatically, putting back the box inside the bag.

“Shit. You don’t like seafood right ?” You shook your head and he bite his lips, brows furrowed in concentration. “Beef ?” He asked with a pout, his tongue poking out like a little kid.

“Chicken”

“For fuck’ sake” He groaned at his mistake and you giggled quietly. “Meh, it’s almost the same anyway” He added as he rolled his eyes.

“It’s not at all !” You playfully slapped his shoulder and he grabbed your fingers, pressing an another kiss right on your knuckles.

“This time, I definitively calling the cop !”

You both raised your head and bursted in laugh at the sight of the old lady who nicely called Roger a “homeless” and a “punk” the night before. The drummer winked at her and helped you get on your feet before walking to your flat, giggling like two hysterical teenagers.

**

“(Y/N), darling !” You smiled fondly as Freddie stood up from the old couch to hug you with enthusiasm. He pressed a loud kiss on each of your cheeks and reluctantly let Brian and John hugged you too. “Yes, hello, hello, now (Y/N) dear, please sit and tell us everything” The singer patted the spot next to him on the sofa and you chuckled softly at his excitement. Not sure what all of this was about but you were happy to see the boys.

It hadn’t been that long, a week not much more but with the events which happened previously you hadn’t been sure to see them again at all.

“Tell you about what Fred ?” You took off your jacket and threw it on the back of the couch. “Thanks, babe” You said gratefully as Roger handed you a fuming cup of tea, he winked at you and sat in one of the armchair, a little smile floating on his lips.

“I would love a cuppa too, babe” Brian commented with an ironic smile, his red special carefully resting in his arms, pads softly pinching the strings of the instruments. “Thanks for asking”

“Well, you know where the kettle is” The drummer replied casually, looking at his friends through his sunglasses, not intending to move from his spot.

“You’re a wanker” The curly haired man sighed, rolling his eyes but weren’t really surprise either.

“We all know that but that’s not very important” Freddie chimed in, signalling to his friends to shut up. “Darling, tell us how our dear Roger processed to make you forgive him”

“This idiot was moping around without you, it was painful to watch” Deaky chuckled, ignoring Roger’s glare.

“Please tell me you made him crawl and beg on his knees” The lead singer added, clapping his hands with an amused smile.

You let out a little giggle and exchanged a glance with your now official boyfriend, his mouth resting in a pout.

“Well, he did spend a certain amount of useful time on his knees...” You cheekily replied and Roger smiled proudly before winking at you.

“Oh did he now ?” Freddie grinned and shot a look to his friend, both of them sharing an amused gaze.

“That a way to apologise” John shrugged and Brian rolled his eyes.

“What about the present you were suppose to get her ?” The guitarist arched an eyebrow and the blond lost his cocky smile, scratching his chest uncomfortably.

“He offered me a bottle of lub” You laughed and took a sip of the warm drink, savouring the look of Roger with red cheeks.

“You’re kidding ?” Brian gasped and Freddie pinched his lips, clearly repressing a giggle.

“With a red bow on it” You added and the drummer shot you a look, not as amused as you by the situation. “And chinese but it was the wrong order”

“I think that the worst apology you could have done” John commented.

“Not too fast Deaky, the end is even better” You chuckled and gave a little kick in Roger’s leg with your foot. “Babe, tell them what happen with the flowers” You teased him and his whole face was red, giving a pleading look.

“Oh my god, what happened with the flowers ? I need to know more than everything else” Freddie cried and turned toward his bandmate, imitating by everyone in the room.

Roger shifted awkwardly in his seat, gaze looking at his shoes.

“I almost killed her” He muttered and you bursted in laugh. The face of each boy was priceless.

“What is wrong with you ?” Brian asked Roger, a confused look on his face.

“It was an accident !” He defended himself, crossing his arms like a little kid.

“Glad to hear that detail” Deaky sarcastically added.

The drummer rolled his eyes and sighed.

“She didn’t want to talk to me so I stopped the elevator when we were both inside so she didn’t have a choice” The blond explained under your amused gaze.

“Smart move” The lead singer commented, his chin resting on the palm of his hand, captivated by the whole story.

“But I didn’t know...she was allergic to the flowers I bought her” He admitted in a grunt, ears turning red as his bandmates snorted shamelessly next to him. “It’s not my fault okay ?” He cried, shouting daggers to Deaky, the loudest to laugh.

It only increased his laugh louder.

“I know that, babe. They’re just teasing you” You murmured and softly squeezed his forearm to calm him and his bad temper.

“I can’t believe it, of course it happened to you” Freddie let his head fell on the sofa, arms crossing around his stomach as his laugh slowly calmed down. “Roger, you’re a real piece of work”

“You really need to work on your apologies, man” Brian shook his head with a little smile.

“Honestly, I don’t know what is worse in this story” Deaky said when the room became quieter. “Roger’s disastrous apologies or the fact that (Y/N) actually forgave him”

It was now you who was turning bright red.

[mousehole5000]

okay another tgcf lb i powered through and finished book 1 this is kinda long its chapters 43-57

first off i love a lil spy mission. these things never go smooth

naughty unlucky trespassers get banished to the giant leech chamber

dont know that i care for the inclusion of “scary savage redskinned cannibal tribe” i mean i guess i dont know maybe its got a different cultural context but i just have a hard time with that one hmmmm at least its over quickly

this really seems to be a book of everyone already knows everyone but that makes sense considering how fucking old everyone is

dope. this whole little armory stand off was fun but also oh no!!! fire in ghost city!!!

awww i love him. king of not wanting anyone to die :’( also hey he did something cool!!! very competent!!! although it looks like he did get hurt from it god his bad luck never ends

yeah exactly!!!!! sword in one hand flower in the other!!! thats what its all about!!!!

mmmmmmm. MMMMMMMMMM. rich fuckers. but also feng xin was the first to show up either way.... im still care him. followed by mu qing who is talking trash but still here as well

also i might back what i said about lang qianqiu im not sure if he knows anything i think he is just like that. although theres still room for him to be involved something. im switching most of my suspicions to wind master qingxuan now because he is popular and rich

okay if im reading this right this seems pretty in character for lang qianqiu. “i dont like that your family is in power.” “haha what a silly guy :) i have no concerns about you”

but xie lian is admitting to this??? :O curious to find out more about if he did indeed do some slaughter or if he’s protecting someone else. if he is protecting someone i think it could be lang qianqiu himself in some way. genuinely unsure tho he may very well have just done this idk who am i to deny him complexity

theres that interesting little note that most officials have also committed similar crimes but never have to face it bc mortals just die

pei ming you’re half right but shut the fuck up no one asked you. i feel strong dislike towards him sorry to any potential pei ming stans reading this. maybe im sorry maybe not im not sure yet i feel strongly about this

i see this happen on cdramas all the time i love it. i point at you in lieu of words

i do think all the politics and gossip and the way that officials will change sides to gain favor/not lose it depending on which way the wind is blowing is pretty interesting i like that its in here

i love that xie lian is making sure that someone takes care of the people hes taken in and also i love everything about this sentence although i feel like we’re not going to see much of banyue which is a shame bc i liked her

oh is it flashback time? this is fun

hmm!!! interesting!!! i like this response!! i have nothing funny or smart to say about it i just like it

this is an understanding that only comes after living through great pain and/or loss. hmm.

hmmm!!!!!!!! questions!!! presumably thematic ones!!!

please let us dig into whatever is going on in this little trio. actions speak louder than words mu qing

okay here we go feng xin is here and im not going to screencap the whole thiing but wow these two see each other and half a page later start swinging okay

oh my god hua cheng giving us a jailbreak arc? instant chaos. amazing

scream everything about this is funny. maximum cunt behavior. everyones reaction fadsjflksdjlk;afsl

mxtx: all characters other than hualian are straight mxtx: the thing feng xin is most afraid of is a women’s bath also women in general he is afraid of them fajkdjskfslda i mean there could be other reasons for this but its very funny in that context

stop theyre too much faslfkjasdf im so glad we’re getting this

im not 100% sure how i feel about these swords that. moan? hmm.

xie lian king of speaking out against stan culture. for real tho i feel like this makes sense with how young he was when he ascended and how much favor he gained only to be banished, as well as with how gods have to be what the people say that they are. this is made interesting bc xie lian is quite literally a god but this is still an issue!!

this is more less what im currently envisioning on our little side trek except qi rong's vibes are so rancid im retching from behind the screen and im not getting to watch any little creatures dance so its objectively a worse time but at least xie lian is there

reading this book full of immortals beat the shit out of each other is like watching looney toons

hua cheng is relentless. also THE DRAMA. lang qianqiu youre back on the list!!! although i doubt any of this will be straightforward also i feel like im playing among us rn im dizzy

hes awful and probably irredeemably so but hes also funny. imagine being qi rong youre just vibing rancidly in your cave and some fucker shows up using the name of a prince from 800 years ago and turns out its hua cheng and he slams your head into the floor over and dribbles it like a basketball until you lay the blame for said princes death and turns out that fucker youre blaming is also here and just as youre getting into it with him this other fucker says that youre lying and turns out its your cousin. wyd

YES. CHOMPING AND VIOLENCE

bruh they melted qi rong

oh its a clone. okay. aww kind of sad that he once looked up to xie lian. maybe some sympathy for going mad. oh wait actually he was a spoiled and pampered prince? sympathy depleted again. tis a waste but. alas

wind master just told xie lian that he was lucky to have befriended hua cheng... and xie lian agreed.... interesting interesting

noting that those two are notorious for clashing and yet jun wun is making them work together

i actually got teary at xie lian talking to his parents coffins and wondering for a second if he heard his mom. god. 800 years... :(

QI RONG IM GOING TO FIND YOUR ASHES MYSELF WTF this whole situation with the child sucks :/

oh my god thats where it ends??? wowie. okay damn i was going to take a break after i finished book one but god thats tempting

[izbiz333]

The Very Sad Race pt. 1

Description: So you are a girl and you hide yourself to go to an all boys school. It’s all good until something goes wrong.

A/N: Hi umm, this is my first au. So there’s not much anything yet. This is also based off a dream, and continued so the plot is unplanned but to be continued. 

Warning: Heavy Language, shitty writing

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

You start your strut to school, almost shitting yourself in worry. It’s just an average day in your not so average life. You check your hair. Perfectly pinned up. You check your chest. Wrapped up as tight as can be. There are no signs that you were female. What would all the boys think or even do if they figured it out? They won’t, you tell yourself as you approach your almost all male private school.

You learned to shut your mouth ever since you got to that school. If any of them heard your high-pitched voice, you’d be fucked. Figuratively and literally. You never spoke to your friends but still communicated physically. You learned sign language in middle school in hopes of meeting someone with the same ability, and you succeeded.

You walk in and meet Davey, Jack, Race, and Albert all sitting in the cafeteria, vibing to Fergalicious. You sign ‘hey, what’s up’ to Davey, the smartest of the four men. He repeats it aloud for the rest of the boys to hear. “Jammin’ out,” the blonde hair, blue eyed boy wasn’t lying. You blush at the comment and cover it up with some sign language. ‘it’s so fucking hot in here.’ You know they’d think you meant the temperature, but it was just Race. You’ve had a crush on him since you met the kid in science class.

You walk to homeroom with Albert, listening to his girl problems. You couldn’t even respond if you wanted to. He would have no idea what you signed, making him easy to rant to as well. You sign all of your feelings about Race and being a girl, and Albert would just watch the same way you would listen. “You know, you’s just the funniest person to me. You’s and your google translate chats are just hilarious. It’s too funny.” He looks at you and notices your confused expression. “I mean like Siri or whatever its name is, it just sounds so stupid answering about human anatomy and shit.” You wanted to laugh so hard, but you couldn’t make a sound. You just smile and keep walking.

After a few classes with the boys, you head to science. This class always took the most out of you. It was only you and Race, since you two were the only dumbasses in the school when it came to science. You never got anything done and were always fooling around. “Yo, Mute.” You can hear Race’s voice down the hall, as you try to stuff your emotions away. You nod your head in a ‘what’s up’ fashion, seeing as that’s the most common non-verbal way of saying hello. “Mr. Brear ain’t here today, and there’s a note on the board telling us to have a study.” You choke in his words. It’s just you and your crush.

“Shit.”

His head goes spinning your way, jaw wide open. You cover your mouth in disbelief. You blew your cover. Either you get soaked by the kid for lying to him, or you tell him the full truth. You knew you’d be fucked either way. “I- I- I can explain.” You high pitched voice makes him even more confused.

“What the fuck?” he pauses to think before figuring out the truth. “Ohh. Fuck! You’s a girl. Wow.” He stares at you in awe of the accomplishment. It makes your heart flutter in feelings.

“Umm… can we’s go somewhere private please?” You didn’t want anyone in the classrooms near you to hear anything.

“You’s voice is beautiful.” His piercing eyes stare at your lips. You stare at him, looking from his muscles, to his eyes, to his blonde curls. You guys both just stare. You don’t move and neither does he. Time had felt as it had slowed down, and you could stand there forever. Until the bell rings, breaking the trance.

“Shit.” You realize that next was lunch, with all of the boys. Race started to panic. You both knew he was a terrible secret keeper, and he wanted to talk about everything.

“Ummm… It’d be too suspicious to not meet up with them.” You both know that’s the truth. You nod in response and start out of the room. “Wait Mute.” You turn around to see him wondering. “What’s you’s real name?” You walk back in and write ‘[Y/N]’ on the board. You look at Race who’s back to staring at you.

“Come on, fucker, let’s go!” You whisper to him as you leave the room.

As you two walk the halls to the cafeteria, you contemplate how to tell Jack, Davey, and Albert. It’s better if you announce it rather than Race let it out. You look at him as you put a finger over your mouth. “So I should shut up? Do you’s have this covered?” You nod and make a sad face.

“Are you’s okay? Did I do something?” Race starts to worry and rush his hands through his hair. You shake your head. You point at Race and make a sad face again. “Ohhh. I should act sad.” You nod your head with a partially thought out plan in your head. He smiles in return, making your shiver in your feelings.

“Hey, Hey! How was science?” Jack looks at Race. He notices Race’s sad expression and darts his head at you. “Mute! Wha- What happened? He’s never sad.” You look at Davey to respond. Chills run down your back, as you know you’d be lying to your best friends.

You sign to him ‘Okay, so I need to tell you something. Don’t freak out, start off by telling Jack a lie of what happened.’ Davey turns to Jack, hesitantly before saying “He- he found out he was failing the class so bad that he’d have to stay in senior year, and couldn’t graduate.” Davey obliged, and was very interested in more information from you.

“Sorry man, you’s must be in some deep shit.” Albert patted Race’s back trying to cheer the kid up. Race looked up to you, and you slowly nodded in response. Race was an excellent actor. He made you sad, even though you were literally writing his backstory.

You turn to Davey to continue with the truth. ‘Don’t freak out. But I can talk, and am a girl, but Jack and Albert can’t know. Race already knows so, come up with another lie.’ Davey is just gawking at you with his mouth wide open. Davey turns to Jack an begins to lie about stupid homework assignments and such.

You look at Race and draw a tear down your cheek. He glares, but knows this is the only thing he could even do. He looks at Jack and starts to water his eyes. “Let’s go to the bathroom and give you’s some space.” Race nods and the five of you walk to the bathroom across the school, where no one was to be seen.

As soon as you arrived Jack began comforting Race, until he saw Race’s large grin. “What the hell?” Jack looked at you who still seemed nervous. You clearly weren’t worried about Race, but about telling Jack and Albert. You nod your head at Race, cueing the truth.

“So. First of all, I’m not failing science or anything. I’m doing just fine. But the reason Mute and I brought you here was to tell you’s something. I want to let Mute do the honors.” Everyone turns their heads to you in confusion.

“Hi.” You watch as Race stands up, just in case either Jack or Albert want to get a punch in. You let down your hair and all four boys just stare in awe at your beautiful dirty blonde locks. “I’m [Y/N], nice to meet you.” You all just sat in silence. No one could even form words. So you decided to break the silence. “This is probably the last time you’ll see me at school. You know, no girls allowed or anything. So, goodbye fuckers.”

“Wait.” You turn around to see your blonde haired best friend grabbing at your wrist. “Don’t go. It’d be fun to have a girl around here.” He meets your glance.

“And what about the rules, dumbass?” Albert feels sick to his stomach. He’d been telling this  girl about his girl problems. You knew who each and every girl was too.

“Well, we’d break them. I do it all the time and I turned out fine. Mostly.” Race giggled. It was the hottest thing he’d ever done.

“And what makes her any different than any other girl?” Jack couldn’t believe that Race wasn’t just as angry as he was. This wasn’t normal Race tendencies. If this was anyone else, Race would have left you out on the streets feeling betrayed.

“She’s kinda cute.” Race didn’t feel betrayed. No, he felt lucky. It gave Jack a laugh, but they finally all gave in. You were ecstatic. You worked out the rules of staying at the school. You’d continue as Mute and even got to dorm with Race and Albert.