#UK heat is fucking horrible

[ya-zz]

Either my room is hotter than satans left nut or it’s freezing

[cumikering]

F1 John Price x reader 4

2.8k | fluff, mentions of cheating John Price and the 50 billion other Johns of the UK (part 1) (part 5)

The bed shifted. A rustle, a thud. Distant whispers.

“… Yeah, sorry, John’s here now… Yeah? Okay, see you, love.”

John looked up with a soft groan when the door cracked open. “Sweetheart?” he croaked.

He squinted in the late morning sun, but he didn’t miss how wonderful you looked in his shirt, all soft skin and a radiant face as you climbed back into the comfort of his arms.

 “Sorry for waking you.” You kissed his cheek. “Harley wants to meet for lunch instead. That fine? We’ve got nothing planned, have we?”

“Of course, but I thought it was supposed to be dinner. Is she alright?”

“Yeah, her tattoo appointment got pushed back so she figured we should meet before.”

He remembered the photos you showed him, of your good friend from school with the pink hair and an array of colourful tattoos. You said she made the best cupcakes.

“And she just told me- I guess it’s a little silly.” You pulled a face. “But we were huge fans of this singer back in the day, and he just got exposed for cheating on his wife. I know it’s none of our business, but it’s just really sad to see. People are saying if a supermodel gets cheated on, us regular women stand no chance.”

He hummed. “You believe that?”

“No, it just depends if you’re faithful or not, but all cheaters are liars. And it doesn’t help that powerful people always have options lined up, but that’s just something you avoid, right?”

His body tensed. “W- what do you mean?”

“Just don’t be with someone who’s famous or away a lot. I mean… This is probably my insecurities talking, but it’s not for me.”

“There are plenty who are just as happy despite the distance.”

“That’s true.” You paused. “I didn’t tell you, but there was this bloke a while ago, had always been upfront about how difficult it could get with his job. I thought I could handle it. He didn’t hurt me or anything, but I don’t think I want to put myself in that situation again,” you said wistfully. “Dating celebrities must be even worse. On top of that, losing your privacy, being compared and criticised endlessly…”

“No, but do you really think it won’t work out?” He sat up, gripping your shoulders. “They’re just normal people behind all the drama, probably don’t even want any of it. Don’t you think they deserve a fair chance?”

“Why are you so riled up, John? Are you famous?” you teased. “You surely are handsome enough to be a model.”

He lay back down, avoiding your gaze as heat crept up his neck.

What the bloody fuck just happened? He was supposed to tell you everything, arrange a meet with his mates and maybe have you stay the night at his, but the very first conversation you had for the day turned out to be an atomic bomb.

“Well, you’re up now. I know it’s closer to lunch, but I’m still making you pancakes. I need you to try the blueberry jam I got you.” You kissed his forehead before making your way out the door.

A lump formed in his throat. Fuck, he was being a hypocrite. He hated that life and there he was trying to drag you into it too.

What had started as him trying to be cautious, innocently laying low had escalated into something else. This was going to look horrible, like he tricked you, especially after last night - it had meant the world to him. But it was never his intention to fool you.

The tide had turned in the blink of an eye. This had been his life for many years, but why the fuck didn’t it occur to him that being with him wasn’t ideal for most people? That no one dreamt of being with someone who was barely home, that this could very well be deal-breaker? If he had been waiting to trust you and let you in, now he was in danger of being left entirely.

“John, you okay?” you asked at the table.

He looked up from his plate and forced a smile. He wanted to throw up. Your pancakes were wonderful as always, but he could barely stomach them with these thoughts running through his head.

“I’m sorry, did you want to do something today?” You placed your fork down. “I should have asked you before saying yes to Harley.”

“No, no. It’s not that. I’m just… Thinking, is all.” He reached across the table for your hand. “I can drop you off if you want?”

But all was not lost. Telling you now would only make the situation appear more disheartening than it was. He just had to prove to you that a relationship with him - no, he would be different. When he eased back into the season in a few weeks time, you wouldn’t even feel anything had changed – he’d make sure to show you the distance was nothing to worry about. He’d tell you then, and you’d be far less apprehensive.

Yeah, he could do that. If three weeks apart for Christmas was not a problem, being apart 4-5 days, twice a month would be a child’s play.

You agreed to him driving you to Harley’s, but even then he white-knuckled the steering wheel and barely spoke a word.

“John, did I do something?” You turned to him when he pulled up.

“No- sorry I’ve been distracted.” He chuckled sheepishly.

“Are you sure? You know you can tell me, yeah?”

“Yes, I promise.” He pressed your hand to his lips.

You have him a small smile before you exited his car, hesitation in your eyes.

The little voice in his head knew he was stretching his façade. It was selfish, perhaps devious - he didn’t want to admit, that he still kept you in the dark even after you expressed your aversion. He had no excuse, but he wasn’t about to let this end, not before he tried his absolute best.

You wouldn’t be mad, would you? His heart was in the right place - he just wanted to save you the heartache. How he was going to make this work was his burden to carry. He just needed you to sit back and be patient with him while he figured things out.

Let me know if you want me to pick you up. Enjoy lunch x

The cold of winter mellowed as February inched closer to March. John had been counting down the days to the start of the season. He’d missed the ecstasy of speed and the itch to get behind the wheel only seemed to worsen.

He started ordering cookies for his team again weekly. He would take any excuse to see you one extra time, especially when you’d send him off with an off-menu drink and a kiss in front of his car.

What he severely underestimated though, was how cramped his schedule was going to be in preparation for the season with never-ending meetings, tests and interviews. He still made time to see you of course, but more often than not he’d be late to pick you up with impromptu events getting in his way.

That night was one of those times again.

“John, you know you can tell me if you can’t make it, yeah?” you said as you locked up your shop. “I really don’t mind going home on my own.”

“No, I want to, really.” He gave your hand a squeeze. “It’s just work has been ultra busy.”

You smiled. “Should I just come to yours this Friday? Let me return the favour.”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, love. Like I said, I don’t mind the drive.”

You’d been asking more often, and John was only a few more questions away from breaking entirely. He couldn’t keep doing this to you. The lump in this throat was palpable each time your smile flickered when he gave you yet another excuse to not visit.

Despite the delay, John took you out for dinner at the place you’d wanted to try. You enjoyed yourself regardless, even that it was too late to catch a film after like he’d promised. Instead, you shared an ice cream and strolled along the streets among the thinning crowd.

At the end of the night, as he held the door open as you slipped into his GTI, someone yelled out his name. He turned to the source of the voice, and it was then the consecutive camera flashes stunned him. He quickly shut your door, jumped to his seat and drove away.

“Did someone call out for you?”

“To be fair, half of the men in the UK are called John.” He shrugged, making you chuckle.

With the thick beard, cap and face mask, the chances of paparazzi recognising him were slim to none, but there he was. The man had been a few metres behind the car - he must have only caught John’s side and your back. Regardless, he prayed the photos were shit enough to not make it online, let alone to anyone who might recognise you, and therefore him.

He swallowed and peered at you. “Love, I’m, uh… Heading to Bahrain for work next Wednesday.”

“Oh, how long?”

“I’ll be back Monday.”

“Okay.” You patted his thigh with a smile. “If you need anything for the trip, let me know if I can help.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. At least that went fine.

John held off shaving until the very last night before he left London for pre-season testing on the last weekend of February. It was always bittersweet to erase the months of effort, but this time it symbolised more than the beginning of the season.

Things weren’t going to be as easy with his schedule back in full swing, but he was confident. Everything would be alright and he’d be able to come clean in no time at all.

John called you at the end of each night, to make up for barely responding during the day. You’d tell him about your day, send him pictures of your meals and the new cookie flavours you tried baking at the shop.

On Sunday, you had JP with you at breakfast. ‘He asked for pancakes,’ you said. You served him a stack of tiny pancakes topped with a singular blueberry on an upside down teacup with a shot of milk on the side. He’d grinned at the photo, but most of all, he wanted to cry at how precious you were.

See, distance was not a problem for you and him – everything was fine. So on Monday night at your dining table, what you said caught him off guard.

“John- I just,” you began, moving your food mindlessly with your fork. “I don’t want to be clingy or demanding, but it’s been over three months. I don’t know where you live, I’ve never met any of your friends.” Your eyes met his. “Tell me I’m not unreasonable for wanting to know.”

“You’re not unreasonable at all.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, love. It’s not that I don’t want to, but for now I’m uncomfortable showing you where I live.”

“You know I don’t care whatever it looks like, yeah?”

“Could you give me some more time? I promise to take you when I’m ready. Please give me a few more weeks.”

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes, and rightfully so. He had turned down each and every attempt to ‘know’ more of him.

Guilt continued to singe him. It was true that the coward dies a thousand deaths but the valiant one. He’d only hurt once for telling the truth, but now that the truth could drive you away from him, he couldn’t risk it.

“Also,” he winced. “I’m flying to Bahrain again on Wednesday.”

You frowned. “You literally were just there today.”

He couldn’t have picked a better time to tell you, could he? Did he have to keep breaking the news to you every week and watch the smile fall off the face of his favourite woman?

“Well, the team stayed there, but I thought I wanted to see you for a bit. I mean- two nights, that’s better than nothing.”

You laid your fork down and gave him a sympathetic look. You sighed before getting out of your seat. For a second he thought you were going to leave, but you went over and wrapped your arms around him as he was still seated.

“You don’t have to do that, John.” You held him against your chest. “I know it’s your job, and I’m not trying to make a fuss about it.”

“I want to,” he mumbled, closing his eyes.

It was silly to admit it, but he’d grown terribly used to seeing you almost every day, sharing meals with you, waking up with his arms around you. He didn’t have the strength to be apart for so long.

Slumber inched closer and the rise and fall of his bare chest slowed under your cheek. He kissed the top of your head, pulling the comforter closer over your exposed shoulders.

“I enjoy seeing more of your handsome face, but I miss your beard already,” you muttered sleepily.

He let out a soft chuckle. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“First race of the season, eh!” Gaz slapped John on the back before plopping down onto the couch next to him. “Will we finally meet her?”

In the hospitality suite, it was the first time they had some quiet since he arrived in Bahrain.

He sighed. “Not yet.”

“Aw, thought it’s official now with your public appearance.”

“What?” He whipped to his teammate. “What are you talking about?”

“The photos. Have you not seen?” He pulled up an article.

Incognito John Price spotted with an unknown woman

The McLaren driver was recently seen strolling hand-in-hand with a mystery woman, sparking speculation among fans on social media. Though nothing is confirmed yet, John has been spotted multiple times with the same woman around the city, adding to the intrigue surrounding their relationship. For the outing, the Scouse opted for a casual ensemble as he’s often seen in, donning a black baseball cap and a matching face mask…

“Who the bloody fuck cares what I’m wearing?” he muttered under his breath.

He scrolled further down, finding photos of the both of you taken in bursts. A set were of you holding hands while walking down the street, the bloom of your laugh at something he said perfectly captured in the photographs. Some where he pulled his mask down to kiss you with an arm wrapped around your waist as you clung onto his bicep. And the last few were of him looking absolutely aghast in the flash as he held the car door for you before driving away.

“You look like shit in the last one though.” Kyle winced. “Like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Yeah,” he answered dryly, tossing the phone back to Gaz. “You’d probably look the same way if someone howled out your name and took your photos in the same second.”

John didn’t bother going through the sea of comments, not wanting to know what unsavoury remarks he was only going to find. He didn’t even realise the man the other day took so many photos. His heart melted at how lovely you looked in the candid pictures with your radiant smile - his favourite state of you, but his stomach churned at the same time.

How long hid he follow you? Spotted multiple times - did that mean there were other photos of the both of you floating around online? At least half of your face was obscured in the shots, but someone who knew you could very much recognise you regardless.

John Sloane was running out of time. There was only one way this was going. The truth had to come out, and it was his choice if he wanted it to explode and destroy what he had with you, or come from him, wrapped as best he could.

But he had time. He only needed a few more weeks to step up his game and get you used to the schedule, to make the transition as seamless as he could for you.

As always, he texted and called when he could, but he had to admit, he felt it. It wasn’t the same if he didn’t get to hold your hand or wrap his arms around you, because two days were not enough at all to let the craving for you melt away.

His confidence flickered, but it didn’t matter. It was his forte after all – his whole life had revolved around relentlessly pushing forward despite how painful it was.

And so he wasn’t giving up. Not on you, not this soon.

Masterlist

@tiredmetalenthusiast @le16erc @kyletogaz @asbestos-n-asbesties @two-autumns

@juicyjujuuu @the-darling-fishy @dahlia-reads @nocturnalreader106 @princessdaniiiii

@freshlemontea @sadcowboyhours @hungrycrazy @hope69world @shinymriver

@buckyboeducky @eve-lie @cumhero0 @ducks118 @readreblogfics

[rhosyn-du]

The Case of the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Dates, chapter 1

Dead Boy Detectives/The Sandman crossover | Jenny Green/Johanna Constantine | Explicit | WIP

Tags for this chapter: Case Fic, Strangers to Lovers, Casual Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Panic Attacks

Link on AO3

For the @sandman-rarepair-fest prompts Strangers to Lovers, AU/Crossover, and Femslash

Summary:

Jenny didn't leave her flat planning to have a semi-public anonymous hookup. She was supposed to be having drinks—and hopefully sex—with a woman she met through a dating app Crystal talked her into downloading—"I'm not saying you should go out looking for your soulmate; I'm just saying maybe you'd feel better if you got laid. Have you even relaxed for five minutes since you got off the plane?"—but Natalya hadn't shown up at the pub she suggested they meet at. But there there was a pretty brunette at the bar with a cocky smirk and a foul mouth who turned out to be every bit as hot as she was annoying and also extremely down for a quick fuck in the restroom and absolutely nothing more than that. Which is probably for the best, Jenny figures. Someone who isn't interested enough to take her home or even ask her name is far less likely to turn out to be a grifter or a control freak or a stalker with homicidal tendencies.

The last thing Jenny wants or needs is to get dragged into another one of the Dead Boy Detective Agency’s cases. Unfortunately, the universe has it out for her. At least the sex is good?

Public restrooms are nicer in London than in Port Townsend. Jenny's been told with a startling amount of vehemence by multiple people that they're nicer all over the UK than anywhere in the States, but she hasn't exactly done a personal survey of the country. Even with her limited experience of public restrooms—toilets, she thinks inanely; they're called toilets here—she can definitely say she's never been tempted to have sex in the toilet of a sketchy pub before.

"Your jeans are too damned tight," the woman whose name Jenny didn't bother asking complains between heated kisses.

"You seemed plenty happy with them when you were checking out my ass," Jenny points out, pausing in her quest to unfasten the truly stupid number of tiny buttons on the woman's shirt to help unfasten her own jeans.

Jenny didn't leave her flat planning to have a semi-public anonymous hookup. She was supposed to be having drinks—and hopefully sex—with a woman she met through a dating app Crystal talked her into downloading—"I'm not saying you should go out looking for your soulmate; I'm just saying maybe you'd feel better if you got laid. Have you even relaxed for five minutes since you got off the plane?"—but Natalya hadn't shown up at the pub she suggested they meet at. But there there was a pretty brunette at the bar with a cocky smirk and a foul mouth who turned out to be every bit as hot as she was annoying and also extremely down for a quick fuck in the restroom and absolutely nothing more than that. Which is probably for the best, Jenny figures. Someone who isn't interested enough to take her home or even ask her name is far less likely to turn out to be a grifter or a control freak or a stalker with homicidal tendencies.

And it's extremely unlikely Natalya would have been this talented with her fingers, holy fuck. Jenny makes a noise she's not at all proud of, head falling back against the wall of the toilet stall as the woman works her clit with deft fingers that don't seem at all hindered by the tightness of her jeans.

"Knew you'd be loud once I got you going," the woman says smugly, urging one of Jenny's legs up over her hip to give her better access.

Jenny wants to argue, but she's really not in any position for it, so she settles for unceremoniously pulling open the last of the buttons on the woman's shirt and finally getting her hands on her tits while doing her best to bite back the sounds she wants to be making.

The woman pushes into Jenny's touch with a pleased hum. "That wasn't a complaint, to be clear." She leans in, their difference in height being just enough to put her lips against Jenny's throat, over the racing beat of her pulse, as she says, "Let me hear you."

"Are you trying to get us kicked out?" Jenny asks even as she shifts her weight so that her own thigh is pressed firmly between the other woman's, and her thumbs brush over stiff nipples.

"Not gonna happen," the woman gasps, rolling her hips eagerly against Jenny's thigh. "The owner owes me."

Any attempt Jenny might have made to ask what exactly the owner owes is completely derailed by the woman sliding two of those clever fingers inside Jenny's cunt as she scrapes her teeth along Jenny's neck in sharp counterpoint. There's no hope of keeping quiet then, not with the woman's fingers inside her while her thumb works her clit, alternating sloppy kisses and sharp nips and sharper curses against Jenny's throat while she rides Jenny's thigh like it's her fucking job.

It's quick and it's frenzied and it's nothing at all like most of the sex Jenny has had in her life. It's also kind of amazing. She tilts her head down so she can capture that filthy mouth with her own, and then lets herself get lost in the slick slide of fingers and tongues, in the frantic rutting and the desperate, grasping pleasure that rises in her like a tidal wave: inevitable and devastating.

Jenny screams when she comes, not even caring anymore who might hear, especially with the woman gasping a litany of fuck, fuck, fuck as she works Jenny through the aftershocks, her own hips starting to stutter. Jenny has just enough piece of mind to grab the woman by the hips, pulling her tight against her thigh as she shudders through her own orgasm moments later.

They stay like that for a few moments as they catch their breath. Just as Jenny is starting to feel the faintest twinges of awkwardness—Do you kiss after a toilet stall hookup? Is that a thing? Should she say thank you? What's the etiquette here?—the woman pulls back with a soft laugh.

"Fuck, I needed that."

Jenny's agreement turns into a gasp as the woman pulls her fingers from Jenny's cunt, seeming to consider for half a second before popping them into her mouth and sucking them clean.

Jenny realizes she's staring and quickly looks away, busying herself with the process of refastening her jeans and making some vague attempt and straightening her clothes so she doesn't look quite so much like she just got extremely well-fucked by a complete stranger.

When she looks up again, the woman is fastening the last of the buttons on her shirt, looking far less flustered than Jenny feels.

"Right," Jenny says. "I'm gonna—" She gestures toward the exit. "Thanks," she adds, and then she leaves before she can find out if that was entirely the wrong thing to say.

She feels a brief moment of relief when she heads back out into the pub and the woman behind the bar doesn't give her a second glance—maybe she hadn't been quite so loud as she thought?—but then she sees how the three women at the table closest to the restroom are looking at her, and she ducks her head and hightails it out into the comforting blanket of fog that feels almost like home if she doesn't look or listen too closely.

She's halfway back to her flat before she realizes that she really does feel better, and much less tense than she has been since she arrived in London four months ago. Maybe even less tense than she's felt since before she watched the woman trying to kill her die a gruesome death in front of her and got possessed by a literal demon and watched her livelihood go up in flames and, oh yeah, started seeing ghosts.

Dammit.

Crystal is going to be so fucking smug when she finds out she was right.

~~~

"I take it the date went well?”

Briana is usually Jenny's favorite coworker, partly because she mixes a better drink than any other bartender Jenny's met, and partly because she doesn't usually ask about Jenny's personal life.

"It wasn't a date," Jenny says, reaching for her apron. "And anyway, she didn't show."

Briana studies her. "But you did have a good time last night." It's not a question.

"A better time than I'm having right now," Jenny tells her, pulling on her hair net.

Jenny is extremely grateful when Briana's questioning is interrupted by the arrival of their boss, who greets them with his ever-friendly smile.

"Ah, Jenny, do you have a minute before you start? I wanted to talk some scheduling with you."

"Sure thing," Jenny says, happily abandoning Briana and her prying in favor of following Rob back to the office.

When the insurance rep told Jenny exactly how long it was likely to take before she saw any money from the destruction of her butcher shop, she'd been livid. That lasted about an hour, until she realized she was in an unfamiliar city—an unfamiliar country—with no money to start fresh like she planned and exactly no experience working for anyone other than herself and before that her parents, at which point it turned to mild panic. When Edwin mentioned that the agency's landlord also owned a pub and had mentioned something about needing to hire new back of house staff, Jenny was extremely dubious. Not only was working a kitchen very different from running a butcher shop, but she was more than a little wary about working for the kind of guy who rented office space to a couple of teenage ghosts.

But Rob turned out to be a decent guy, and almost freakishly normal from everything Jenny's seen. He inherited the New Inn along with the building Charles and Edwin—and now Crystal—work out of and a few other properties from his favorite uncle, but that's the most remarkable thing about him other than the whole seeing and talking to ghosts thing, and she's hardly going to hold nearly drowning as a child against him. The man is a part-time history lecturer at City University and wears loafers, so Jenny figures he's pretty low on the list of people likely to drag her into more supernatural weirdness or attempted homicide, and he pays her better than she's probably worth given her lack of experience.

All in all, it's a pretty good deal, especially since Rob knows she'll be gone as soon as her insurance money comes through and she can find a decent shop space to rent.

Jenny stops dead in her tracks when she sees the two people already waiting in Rob's office.

"No," she says flatly, addressing the two ghosts—one leaning against the office wall and the other perched on the edge of Rob's desk—before turning on her boss. "What the hell, Rob? You said you wanted to talk about scheduling."

It's not that she has anything against Charles and Edwin, but Crystal's two ghost friends are private detectives who take jobs for other ghosts, and the fact that they're ambushing her at work suggests this isn't a social call. The last thing she wants is to get caught up in one of their cases. Again.

"This is about scheduling," Edwin says, "in part."

"We need an assist on our latest case and Robbie's got a friend with the right kind of skills," Charles adds.

"I figure it'll be safer for everyone involved if I make the introduction at the Inn." Rob's tone is apologetic. "You're the only one on staff unlikely to get freaked out if anyone gets shouty about things, so I was wondering if you'd mind closing up tonight so I can invite her over and make the introduction after close. I know you're only scheduled until ten, but I'm happy to pay you double for the extra hours."

"I don't mind closing," Jenny says, "but what's the catch?"

"No catch, I swear," Rob says, holding up his hands. "I wouldn't even ask, but I've got an early lecture tomorrow and would rather not be up prepping the kitchen by myself after I introduce the boys to my friend."

Despite the revelation that Rob apparently has a friend with skills to help Charles and Edwin on one of their cases, Jenny doesn't get the sense that he's trying to deceive her in any way.

She looks at Edwin. "You said 'in part.' So what's the catch."

"Ah," Edwin says, sliding off the desk. "It's not a catch, per se."

"Eds," Charles chides softly. "What he means is, we've got a message for you. From our client."

Jenny feels the bottom of her stomach drop out. "Your client?" she repeats. Their client can only mean another ghost. Someone who died.

"Natalya Mesi," Edwin says. "She wants you to know that she's very sorry for missing your appointment last night, but she was quite dead by then."

~~~

Rob is nice enough to give Jenny some privacy and a very stiff drink—on the house—after Charles and Edwin leave. She goes through the remainder of her shift in a daze, glad that the dinner rush doesn't prove to be too much for her distracted mind to handle and that Eoin doesn't comment on her much more frequent than usual minor fuckups. Jenny decides he's her new favorite coworker.

Crystal arrives just before closing, slipping back to the kitchen to give Jenny a quick, fierce hug.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs, and Jenny knows she's apologizing as much for pushing Jenny to download the dating app in the first place as expressing condolences for the death of a non-quite-acquaintance.

"I didn't even know her," Jenny says when Crystal releases her. "Not really."

"I'm still sorry," Crystal insists. "You didn't want to be involved in any of our cases, and I got you involved, sort of, so I'm sorry."

"If I were that worried about it, I would have stayed in Port Townsend," Jenny points out, as if staying in Port Townsend with the memories of Niko and Maxine and her parents and her shop and every person and every dream she's ever lost wouldn't have been a complete nightmare. But. She didn't have to come to London.

Crystal squeezes her arms and offers her a weak smile. "I'm glad you're here."

It's a slow enough night that there are no stragglers by the time closing rolls around, and Eoin is out the door in time for Rob to lock up behind him. Rob says something about his friend running late, and Jenny tries to ignore the two living humans and two ghosts talking quietly at a table in the corner while she cleans the grill and wipes down the counters and refills the condiment bottles, but her eyes keep drifting over to the only people who know the answer to the question that's been plaguing her since that afternoon. The question she didn't have the courage to ask at the time.

She makes it halfway through refilling the salt shakers before stalking over to the table and demanding, "How did Natalya die?"

The four at the table look up at her and then exchange uneasy glances with each other.

"We aren't exactly sure about that yet," Charles says. "That's sort of what we're investigating."

"But you know something," Jenny presses. "That's why you're here to meet Rob's friend, right? Because you found something you need help with?"

"We could be wrong, though," Crystal says. "And it's not anything you need to worry about—"

"All signs point to demonic activity," Rob interrupts, and Jenny is grateful to him for saying it even as the room starts to go fuzzy around the edges.

"The woman I was supposed to meet for drinks was murdered by a demon?" Jenny hardly recognizes her own voice, high-pitched and squeaky as it is.

"We don't know that a demon did the actual killing," Edwin explains, "but we're fairly certain a demon was involved. Your friend is actually quite lucky. A demon could have done far worse than kill her."

"She wasn't my friend," Jenny says faintly, grabbing for a nearby chair to keep herself upright before her knees give out completely.

She misses, and only Rob's quick reflexes save her from falling on her ass.

"I got you," he says as he hoists her with surprising strength into the chair she'd failed to grab onto. "Just breathe. You're safe. No demons here, I promise."

Jenny does her best to follow his instruction to breathe, trying to force her lungs to expand and contract in some sort of regular rhythm. It's not the first panic attack she's had in the past six months. It's not the tenth. But every one is as awful as the last.

She has no idea how long she spends struggling to calm her heart, her lungs, her mind, only that she's only just managed to start feeling like an actual person again when she's startled by the sound of the bells over the tavern's entrance. Which makes no sense, because didn't Rob lock the door?

Dazedly, Jenny looks up only to find the very last person she's expecting to see. She blinks her eyes several times, but the image doesn't change.

"Damn exorcism ran long," the woman says, shrugging out of her pale coat.

This time, Jenny notes a little hysterically, the shirt underneath doesn't have any of those absurd tiny buttons.

"Demons are not terribly respectful of your time, are they?" Rob says wryly. "These are the tenants I was telling you about. Charles, Edwin, and Crystal of the Dead Boy Detective Agency. And this is Jenny, who's on staff here at the New Inn.

“Everyone, this is Johanna Constantine. If you've a demon problem, she's the best person I can think of to help you solve it."

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 15)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (15)

Masterlist (other parts here)

The morning had been filled with more sex, desperate kisses and grabbing, biting and fucking. But it was more than just sex, much more, and they both knew it. It was the most expressive way that they could both show each other just how much they affected each other. How much they meant to each other. And damned if they weren’t going to use every second they had in their little happy bubble.

YFN had managed to convince Lucy that she’d be okay to go to the embassy alone. She knew Lucy had been neglecting her knee to spend time with her and was overdue for some recovery sessions. Lucy insisted on dropping her off regardless and left to do her physio.

YFN was nervous, but she had nothing to worry about. She met a nice man called Martin who looked over her case and listened to her explanations of what happened. He told her that complaints were common and that he didn’t agree with the system and how it operated. “This isn’t America. We aren’t ICE!” He’d said gruffly and they spoke a little about how it shouldn’t be so easy to make anonymous complaints of someone’s Visa when they were ‘clearly within the legal parameters of such Visa’. They had a good chat about him, his partner and his children, while he went through his paperwork. They spoke about her previous job and how her visit was going. He’d appreciated the mountain of evidence she’d brought, both self-researched and from Lucy’s lawyers. It turned out he was a huge football supporter -as she was realising that most of the UK were- and his daughter even played in the under 15s. He ducked away apologetically to confirm her character reference was who she said they were, and of course Ridley had answered the phone. He came back gushing over her, like everyone who met her did. An acquired taste, but very intelligent and loveable. He’d even apologised when he’d gotten back as the conversation went longer than expected – the effect Ridley had on people. Again, she wasn’t surprised.

Martin offered her Visa back, along with his number to call in case another complaint was made, or for any other future changes to her Visa.

YFN felt comfortable enough with him to ask about Visa’s for Europe as well as the possibility of working in the UK. They’d discussed the apparent lack of interviewers for women’s sport and again, he was eager. She showed him an example of the column she used to write in Australia which was very much open to whatever topic controversial enough for her to deem worthy of a column, and he moved around a few appointments to talk to her about her options. She had a few different options, but he guided her towards the sponsorship from a company. She needed to be guaranteed at least 6 months of work and the Visa was for 2 years with the ability to progress to other Visa’s past that. YFN hadn’t personally spoken to the company Katie and Caitlin had been speaking of, and she didn't mention them to Martin, but he seemed confident she would find work. She liked him, he seemed a lovely family man and exactly the type of person she’d needed to sort out the mess that had been made. Somehow, the horrible situation had turned out completely in her favour.

They parted ways, Martin again insisting that she use his number with any more Visa changes or questions, and she was excited to tell Lucy the news, and the possibility of staying around Europe for longer. She loved giving her good news.

She came out of the appointment after being there for a few hours and opened her phone. She immediately saw that Lucy had posted some pictures of her rehab session, including some boxing. YFN could feel her body heat at the sight, and she bit her lip. She liked the post, of course, and commented with a bicep emoji, and a face exhaling emoji. Lucy would know what she meant. She did, after all, have hickey’s on her biceps from their adventures over the past 24 hours, and she wasn’t apologetic about that at all. She was obsessed with her biceps and whenever she had a chance, they were always in her hands, or under her mouth. She found it hard to believe that this woman, Lucy Bronze, the jaw-droppingly sexy woman in those photo's, was her girlfriend, and had quite literally been inside her last night. And this morning. She caught her thoughts, biting her lip again.

She didn’t want to rush Lucy, and so she gave her a simple text saying she was out exploring London whenever she was finished, and to not rush. When she and Jordan were alone, she’d changed the time of the booking she had to 3pm, because she had no idea how long the Visa would take and regardless, she wanted Lucy to have a good amount of hours with her session.

Of course, Lucy called her almost immediately.

“I can com-”

“No, Luce. You stay.”

“But-”

“Luciiiia.” Unlike everyone else, she pronounced it as ‘Loo-chee-ah’, which she knew Lucy loved.

“I don’t like you out there alone with…”

“I know, love.” She said softer, repeating Lucy’s words from the night before. It filled her with butterflies, and she swore she could hear Lucy soften over the phone. “I’m happy to explore and I’ll stay around people. I’ll be fine, just please… please focus on your health and your knee. I’ll see you at 2:30, okay? I’ll message you where we can meet..”

Lucy wasn’t keen on the idea, but she reluctantly agreed.

For the first time, YFN found herself in the dead centre of London and although she wanted to enjoy herself, she always felt her eyes wandering around for those girls, and so she made sure to stay near people in case anything happened. Regardless, she tried to enjoy her day. She wandered around looking at shops and the old buildings in wonder, making sure to take photos for her Nan, and send a few to Lucy as a way of telling her she was okay. She sat in a park for a little while and read some of the book she’d brought, feeling the sun on her skin. It wasn’t as harsh as the sun in Australia, but it was just enough to cut through the breeze and keep her skin sun-kissed and warm.

When 2:30pm eventually came around, YFN was wandering to the spot she told Lucy to meet at, and there she was, standing outside, leaned up against her car, the most attractive human being on the planet. YFN could feel her body reacting, needing her. She was in shorts, of course, her knee strapped, and she was so goddamn tanned from Spain. Her ankles were crossed, as well as her arms and her biceps stretched her white Nike shirt. Just the outline of her body, those muscled thighs, biceps, shoulders, were sending her crazy and that was without mentioning her throat, or her jawline that could probably cut paper. She was scanning the park for YFN, her eyes looking in the opposite direction so she could better see that jawline and the features of her face. Having just been to training, she was without glasses and her face looked almost naked to her. She could brush her lips over each part of her face like she had last night, and it still wouldn’t be enough. As she got closer, Lucy spotted her, and that wide grin crossed her face. YFN sped up and jogged towards her for two reasons: 1) because she didn’t want Lucy to have to walk on her knee more than she had to and, 2) she couldn’t stand being apart from her a second longer. Her arms wrapped around her Lucy and they fell back into the car with a chuckle. Lucy’s arms around her were just as strong and needy as her own. Her head found its favourite place on her collarbone, forehead to her neck and she breathed her in. She smelled like vanilla and bitter orange. Lucy’s smell. The smell that was home to her now.

“God I missed you.” Lucy groaned, kissing YFN wherever she could reach. YFN giggled and tilted her head back, accepting all of the love.

“London is pretty… and I missed you more.”

“Impossible.” Lucy refused between kisses.

“Your post sent me wild..”

Lucy pulled back with a wide grin and flirty green eyes. “Oh, you liked it, did you? I was hoping you would..”

“I’m loving your boxing era.”

“Good thing it’s around to stay then. Best way to do cardio without straining my knee, plus, I’m really enjoying it. Building more muscle.” She flexed her bicep and YFN grinned.

"Well not the best way to do cardio..."

Lucy groaned.

YFN's hands glided their way up her back and shoulders, dipping over the muscles that she’d worked so hard for. She could feel herself getting wet and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

“What are you doing?” Lucy asked, voice husky but curious.

“Calming myself down.” She said and took another breath.

“Why?”

“Because you’re the sexiest human being to ever exist and I’m trying to stop myself getting so excited.”

Lucy was silent until YFN had to open her eyes to look. Lucy’s expression was flirty, needy, in control, and horny. Her hands slid down YFN’s sides, over her waist, her hips, and found their way to her ass where they grabbed and began sliding back up her back, pressing them together.

“All mine.” Lucy growled in a way that said there was absolutely no arguing to be done as she crashed their lips together, pulling her against her body by her lower back. YFN returned the passion eagerly, one hand on the side of Lucy’s neck, the other at the back of her head. She was hers. Her body shuddered at the want, the need, the passion in which Lucy claimed her. Their tongues met and brushed each other teasing, while they gasped for breath.

YFN eventually found the strength to pull away first. “Public, Lucia…” she reminded her. Lucy grunted, still holding her tight, her lips brushing over her temple, her cheek, her jaw. When she started going for her throat, YFN had to give her another warning. She’d never had sex in public before but fuck, she was just about to if Lucy didn’t find the strength to stop.

Lucy groaned and pulled back, lips well kissed and breathing ragged. It was good to see that YFN had the same effect on Lucy as she did for her.

“How have I survived without you this long?” She asked, shaking her head, and YFN knew she wasn’t referring to the past 7 hours.

“I was just thinking the same thing…” She managed to regain her composure just a little and only due to the sound of people around them. “Ready for our second date?”

It was a rage room. Or so that’s all Lucy thought it was. She was kept in the dark from the moment YFN had said she’d plan the second date, right up to the point where they were in overalls and goggles, locked in a room with baseball bats and other weapons of choice. Lucy was pleasantly surprised, her face lighting up and her inner child bubbling to the surface.

“We’ve had a bit of a rough time lately…” YFN explained. “I figured we could get some stress out?”

And they did. Lucy was hesitant at first, not wanting to show her rage. But after YFN was more than willing to demonstrate her frustrations by taking an axe to the window of a car, Lucy let loose. And absolutely fucking destroyed the room. It started with a grin, it shifted to annoyance, then rage, then it simmered back down to pure fun. She’d needed this and didn’t even realise it.

After the room was destroyed and she thought she was done, she dropped the bat, panting. Suddenly she was hit in the neck, a wet substance exploding on her skin, splashing down onto her overalls and up onto her face. She still had a surprised look on her face as she turned towards her little Australian who had a devious look on hers. She had a bag slung over her shoulder, and she was tossing a paint balloon in her hand. Her favourite movie.

“You want me to be your Heath Ledger?” Lucy challenged.

YFN chuckled and threw another one, and Lucy the athlete was easily able to avoid it. Then she ran. Lucy dove for the other bag on the ground, tugging it over her shoulder as she chased her around the room. Her first red paint balloon smacked into her shoulder, and the next smacked a perfect blue target on her ass. They shouted and chased, teased, and tried to hide behind items. YFN was worried for Lucy’s knee, but it didn't seem to be a concern for the right back at all. As they were covered with different colours of the rainbow and running out of ammo, Lucy tackled her to the ground and they smashed their last balloons over each other before their lips crashed together. Their tongues met again, and Lucy groaned, grabbing the back of her thigh and pulling it up around her.

“Aaaaand time’s up folks!” A voice rang through the speakers as the door clicked.

The date had them both smiling so hard that their cheeks were sore and YFN felt happy knowing she’d chosen the right thing for their second date. They wiped off as much paint from each other as they could, but it was still caked in their hair, patching their faces and necks. They knew they wouldn’t be getting the colours out of their nails for days.

On the way home, they stopped by a pizza place that Jordan had suggested they try. YFN figured that the perfect end to the date would be a casual pizza takeaway at home with cuddles and blankets. Lucy was more than keen on the idea. She pulled up outside of the pizza restaurant and left the car running.

“I’ll go pick it up.” Lucy leant over and kissed YFN on the lips like they’d been together years. “I’ll just be a minute, little one.”

YFN’s cheeks flushed slightly, her little butterflies coming to life. Since she’d texted Lucy where she was, she hadn’t picked up her phone all night and it was such a good feeling. She loved being detached from it, especially lately when it had been causing so much stress. She enjoyed it so much that she’d used Lucy’s phone to place the pizza order on, not wanting to see her phone until tomorrow.

But apparently not even that could remove the problems that had inserted themselves so abruptly into her life. Still smiling, she looked out of Lucy’s window and saw two of them staring at her, pointing and yelling. Before she had time to process beyond shock, they were running across the road for the car. YFN panicked and leant over, slamming the door locks on. They grabbed at the door, trying to yank it open. YFN’s eyes were wide with shock as they smashed against the car, shouting abuse at her. She almost froze, and considered beeping the horn but she didn’t want Lucy to run out and be hurt by these maniacs. Then she made the mistake of turning to look out her window for her girlfriend and locked eyes with her. Kristie. She put her phone up to the window clearly showing YFN a photo of her and Lucy kissing when she'd picked her up at the park.

“I warned you, you fucking slut! She’s mine!” She yelled, pure hatred in her voice.

Kristie took a few steps back, her arm raising behind her. Then a brick shattered through the window and collided with her head. And then, black.

[ayeforscotland]

High humidity isn't that unusual here, it's just that it's usually cold enough that it's not uncomfortable. We're supposed to be in a temperature maritime climate, so mild and wet, but with this fucking awful heat the wet bit makes everything utterly wretched. Our houses aren't designed for this weather at all, which I don't think people elsewhere realise (they're abysmal in winter too). No aircon, shit insulation so we get cooked as houses retain the heat rather than keep it out, no shutters on the windows to stop the sun getting in, no bug screens... And also no idea how to deal with heat, or awareness that you need to avoid being out/active during the hottest part of the day. I didn't grow up experiencing weather anything like this. I really can't cope with it. People die as a result of hot weather, and I've seen posts where people laugh about it, but it's serious and I would really like to see a public health campaign across Scotland (and all of the UK) to raise awareness of how to keep safe. It's scary because it's only going to get worse, but most nutters are excited to have another day of BBQ and sunbathing weather without having to go to the south of Spain. Ugh. Anyway. Yes. Horrible weather, it's no laughing matter at all. Here's hoping this summer isn't as bad as we fear it will be.

Yeah I’m fine with colder humidity - it’s the absolute nightmare combo of heat and humidity that fucks me.

All houses built to retain as much heat as possible leads to uncomfy days and sleepless nights.

[honeyedheartss]

oakland pre-show recap

- Dan said he felt like he was sullying the room with his presence (really ornate theatre)

- favorite kpop group is Shinee

-his bias is Taemin (most talented person in the entire universe)

- someone worked at a dog rescue center and needed name ideasand he said "Susan 3" and told them to keep the numbers going after

- favorite and least favorite parts of his old branding he said the Llama hats were a miss, not his favorite animal anymore but he still likes them

-went on a raccoon tangent because they ARE his favoriteanimal and he was so excited to see one in person and he thinks they're relatable

- his favorite part of his old branding was the tshirt with the eclipse on it!

-he needs to go back to YWGTTN a lot for help and has annotated his own book to help him out with contextand assistance when he is working through something

- current fave anime is Jujutsu Kaisen

>he said Demon Slayer was also very good

- he was asked where he was on 9/11 and he said "really?" in the MOST disappointed voiceand said he was 11 in primary school

- "what do you do to your hair to shape your curls" he laughed reading the question and said he wakes up like this

- Steve is his favorite stranger things character and S3 is his favorite season

-favorite piece of merch he's ever released is the WAD leather jacket and he said he doesn't feel worthy to be wearing it or to have made such a piece of art

- he thinks gay sex is disgusting, horrible, and no one should do it, an affront to the eyes of the Lord

@/vulturethera [on twitter] drew this and wrote "peepee" and he ripped up the card

- can you rawr for us? he tore that card up too

- most awkward experience on the tour so far was when someone asked him where he was on 9/11

- someone asked how he felt knowing he wouldn't be forgotten for a long time and he asked if we thought he was going to eventually be forgotten

-favorite holiday song is "what's this" from nightmare before Christmas

- favorite star wars episode is Revenge of the Sith and everyone booed him

- favorite part of the tour was when someone asked him where he was 9/11

-when asked 'what is next for Dan' he just made jokes about dying on tour from falling down the stairs, the Australian heat, and the freezing cold

- laughed at the question "what are you hopeful for for the future" and told us to watch the show

-favorite movie he's watched on the road is Shrek and he did a show of hands for favorite Shrek movies and Shrek 2 won and Shrek 4 got a single clap in the silence

- British people DO declare emergency when they see a rainbow but only bc they're really homophobic

- was asked about the queen dying and he discussed starting the show and getting a push notification that she was being lowered into the ground in Cardiff

- zero advice for people feeling lost in their twenties. fastest Nope of the show.

>he did say that your 20s are for figuring out how to adult and as a "recently in their 20s person" you'll be lucky to be alive by the end of them

- Got Milk? he has oat milk, he's disappointed that you can only get large containers of it in the US bc in the UK u can buy tiny serving size containers. AND HE DRANK OAT MILK THAT HAD BEEN IN THE FRIDGE FOR MORE THAN 2 MONTHS

someone wrote "when the function got Hennessey" and Dan referenced This Photo

- he simply Doesn't get over imposter syndrome when it comes to being capable of success

- someone drew him a dinosaur saying "no". he said it looked grumpy and "same"

-favorite kpop girl group is 2NE1 but right now it's LUNA

- talked about Phil killing the houseplants and dragged him for his houseplant care sponsored video

- spotify wrapped top 5:

- Polyphia

-Rosalia

-Vince Staples

-FKA Twigs

-Ludovico Einaudi

- he is ashamed of his top genre being lo-fi hip-hop but he puts it on when he's working or doing house chores

- least favorite part of tour is WHEN PEOPLE ASK HIM STUPID FUCKING QUESTIONS (he did yell this in response to the question)

- if he had to eat dicks on pizza would he rather they were sliced like pepperoni or ground like sausage? he said that was horrible horrible question. pepperoni

-why are you British? "I'm sorry"

- someone folded him an origami heart and a crane and he ripped them up because they didn't have questions inside them

- black and orange is because they did black and red for II, black and yellow for TATINOF, and black and green is weird and the other colors are too happy, so now he's stuck having grindr themed merch

-rabbits won in rabbits vs cockatiels and he proudly told us about Phil's childhood rabbit that pooped "perfectly spherical poops"

- someone had been watching him since 4th grade and he told us thats why we're all mentally ill queers

- VPMO is the next video on his schedule and will be out "this weekend" [although we were all unsure if he knew it was Friday today]

- he is an INFJ which is the Jesus and Hitler personality type

- he watched one episode of OFMD and he and Phil agreed to not watch anymore until they can watch it together

- most cringe thing on his spotify was lo-fi beats

- he asked what hashtags he should use for the doomed pre show photo and i said 9/11 and he yelled at me <3

[whatiwillsay]

💀💀💀

NONE of that “tea” is confirmed, aside from the John Mayer stuff. Which we all knew years ago as she’s been bearding since the beginning. You can’t claim “oh I know she fucked Julianne and Lily, and that Joe was real” because it’s never been confirmed. That’s what I mean when I say you have not given reliable tea about her relationships.

Imagine being this stupid.

what a terrible day for me to be literate because that means I have to read your stupid asks.

i guess you don't have the same relationship with literacy that I have because I literally SAID julianne and lily can't come out and confirm the tea I've shared.

most of the personal tea WON'T EVER come out and be confirmed the way work-related tea will be because the personal tea is just that. it's PERSONAL. it's a SECRET. the work-related tea starts out as a secret and then will be revealed to be true because people's work is eventually going to be made public. taylor swift's secret gay relationships are not going to be made public ever unless something crazy happens. the point is that some of the same insiders (not all but some of them) that share the work-related tea ALSO share the personal tea.

i got bilor confirmed by the same person who tipped me off on olivia's album coming out and sabrina opening for taylor on the eras tour. they're a connected source with lots of good tea. they also confirmed joe was real but horribly rocky (that's been confirmed by the music).

there's a reason i am so tapped into taylor that I did an episode on how I thought she and joe were in trouble THE SAME DAY SHE WROTE YOU'RE LOSING ME. THE EXACT SAME DAY. i don't think any other taylor account can claim that lol.

what would be reliable/confirmable tea about her relationships??? your "tea" is that she faked her relationship with matty healy but that hasn't been "confirmed by anyone".

in fact, it's almost a laughable notion. anyone who follows matty healy knows that he does not do any pr. he famously doesn't even have a standard publicist that manages his public image. he only has a publicist for the 1975 who connects the band with media appearances. matty healy would never EVER EVER be a beard the fact that you think he was one shows how little you know about the music industry, particularly the UK music industry.

and btw most gaylors would say she was in a real relationship with john. i was going against the grain when I shared that info and I got heat for it. people made it out to sound like I was saying she lied about being abused when ofc I never said that I think she just got abused by a different guy (and/or never dated john but still got her feelings hurt by him). what other guy? oh martin johnson, which I shared about early on, and then ashley tisdale (who dated martin later) came out and confirmed that taylor and martin dated! thank you for reminding me of more personal tea I shared that was later confirmed!

damn i rarely miss lol

anyway let taylor be bi it's not illegal!

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

We had an unseasonably warm February this year, which upset me because I like the cold and didn't get enough of it, and because every time I stepped outside in a warm February it reminded me that the world's ending and made me feel terrified. So it really annoyed me that every time I got to work, there would be someone there saying "Wow, what nice weather we're having!" Because it's not nice weather, it's the world ending. It's February, it's supposed to be colder than this. How can people have a positive reaction to that? I get making jokes to cope with the fear of climate change, but they weren't making jokes, they were just having the audacity to enjoy the temperature and not think about global humanitarian extinction every time they went outside. How disconnected from reality do you have to be to feel a symptom of the world ending and call it nice?

Now, we're having an unseasonably cold March. It's fucking great. Normally, at this time of year, I'm starting to get less and less comfortable as the weather warms up and sometimes I have to go outside and be just slightly too warm, and it's nothing I can't handle, but it's a little taste of the months to come that I'll have to spend regularly getting much too warm, which is horrible and uncomfortable, and I like the months when any time I feel even slightly hot I can just open a window and then I'll feel cold again. This year, I don't have to spend mid-March feeling the weather get uncomfortably warm, because it isn't. It's colder than it should be in March, it's colder than it was this year in February, that is a fucked up reversal that is not how it's meant to be and it's caused by climate change and is also a sign that the world's ending ("The seasons are wrong..." - Josie Long). However, I personally happen to like this symptom of global catastrophe, so actually, when I arrived at work today, I found myself mentioning that I'm enjoying this weather. So it turns out I'm not any more connected or honest than my co-workers, I just like different weather than they do, and am as quick as they are to say "Forget about the consequences, I like this sign of the world ending" when it happens to go my way.

Thing that occurred to me on the way to work today: what if I put all my emotional investment for months and months into looking forward to my trip to the UK this summer, and then when I'm there there's a huge heat wave that makes it impossible to enjoy a single moment of it and I spend the whole time just wishing I could get out of the heat? Add to the list of things to procure before the trip and to remember to pack: those things that some of my friends have that are like ice packs you can wear that make being outside in hot weather bearable.

[ratsetflummi]

All of the odd numbered weird asks! (But feel free to skip any that you don’t want to answer of course 😅)

1. who is/are your comfort character(s)?

currently artemis entreri, previously strahd von zarovich

generally there seems to be a theme of mentally ill little bastards with a bunch of trauma who are suffering from The Curse™ and who just kind of want to die but can't

don't read anything into that

3. do you leave the window open at night?

i leave it tilted (because i got the good european windows that you can tilt), so the murderers don't get in, but i also don't suffocate

5. what color are your eyes?

blue

7. hair-ties or scrunchies?

i'm bald

but back when i still had long hair i only ever used hair-ties

9. which do you prefer, hot coffee or cold coffee?

ideally lukewarm, but i'll also take cold. i'm very sensitive to heat, so hot coffee just kills me

11. favorite extracurricular activity?

i haven't been in school in almost a decade. and back when i was still in school i never did any extracurriculars. i always wanted to do theater, but my anxiety was way too bad to actually sign up for it back then

13. when was the last time you ate?

two hours ago. i went to my parents' place to bake a lemon tart with meringue, and i ate a piece of that before i left

the tart in question:

15. are you a parent? (all answers qualify)

only to a pair of little idiot cats

17. are you farsighted or nearsighted?

nearsighted, but i only have to wear my glasses at university, for everything else my eyes are still good enough

19. imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails?

yes, and they might not even look horrible, i've been getting better at that lately

21. something you’ve kept since childhood?

the only thing that comes to mind is my fear of dogs. had that since i was a child. as far as like objects go i'm pretty sure everything's been replaced at some point

23. how do you feel about chilly weather?

love chilly weather, the chillier the better, bury me in snow and i will be happy (i am currently suffering from summer)

25. perfume/body spray or lotion?

body spray

27. about how many hours of sleep did you get?

more than i usually get recently, which is to say about 7 hours. the cat i'm currently cat sitting keeps screaming me awake way too early in the morning, but last night i finally caved in and put in some earplugs, so i actually slept more than five hours for once

29. how do you like your shower water?

warm. not scalding, but i refuse to step into a cold shower

31. what type of music keeps you grounded?

metal. a strong baseline and drums help me calm down. which sounds like a joke, but it really isn't

33. the last adventure you’ve been on?

i'm currently living at a friend's place out in the middle of nowhere, because she's on vacation right now and i agreed to take care of her cat, and going back and forth from my place to hers takes for fucking ever. and honestly just figuring out how to live out here is an adventure of its own

35. what’s your timezone?

i would have sworn that it's gmt+1, but apparently it's gmt+2? or cest. my friends in the uk keep calling me a bloody future person because i'm one hour ahead of them

37. someone in your life, other than a relative, you’ve known for 10+ years?

only person who i still talk to is thisfairytalegonebad on here. we weren't technically actively talking until we did our finals at the same time, which was only 7 years ago, but fairy is the reason why i'm even on tumblr in the first place, and that was 11 years ago

39. do you use lip balm?

nope, my lips always feel worse when i try

41. how do you take your coffee?

with ridiculous amounts of milk and sugar

43. what’s your take on spicy foods?

i can handle a bit of spice, but too much will kill me

45. can you remember what happened yesterday?

i had to think long and hard about it, but i think i reconstructed most of it

the highlights are going to university, doing a horrible job drawing my friend's old dnd character during a lecture, visiting a friend at work on the way home, failing to kill a boss on elden ring for like two hours, talking to friends on vc, and doing a way better job redoing the drawing

the drawings in question (from 2021, yesterday morning, and yesterday night, in that order):

(yes, that is jarlaxle's hat. well, technically jack axel's hat, who was my pc in dragonheist, and who totally wasn't just the jarlaxle we have at home when mom says that we have jarlaxle at home)

47. what was the last message you sent?

asking my mom whether she has finally applied for the new job she was looking at and whether her coworker has actually quit yet. that was five days ago, she hasn't answered yet

unless we're talking discord messages, in which case it was me talking about what i'm gonna cook for my friends when i go visit them a month from now

49. can you skip rocks?

absolutely not. i've tried a couple times, but i never actually got anywhere

[absolutebl]

BAD BUDDY - Ep by Ep Snarkfest

Not sure if this will be a trash watch or not, but are you ready for this? 

But first... I thought it might be fun to see what my predictions were back in 2020 when GMMTV first announced this show. 

I should acknowledge that I publicly stated, many times, that I thought Nanon would NEVER do a BL. So this is me eating crow: 

DEETS! 

Origin: Book (Behind the Scenes) adaptation of a enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, Romeo & Romeo, secret relationship, university sports setting y-novel 

MDL Listing | Trailer 

Wait I’ve seen them do BL before? Seriously? Fine. Nanon Korapat in My Dear Loser+ like everything GMMTV not BL. Ohm Pawat in He’s Coming to Me, Make it Right 1&2, Dew the Movie, The Shipper + like EVERYTHING BL.

Side dishes: Drake (My Tee, 2gether, 1000 Stars) and Marc (My Gear and Your Gown)

My 2020 Predictions: It’s from GMMTV with BL director Backaof attached (1000 Stars, He’s Coming to Me, Dark Blue Kiss, Still 2gether), so it’s gonna happen. Both actors and director have a history of picking quality projects with decent scripts, and production values are likely high. Should be excellent but low heat. Ohm will have his shirt off a lot.

Shall we begin? 

Episode 1 - Oh well, fuck me, it’s actually great

They had me the moment Pran took his earbuds out and put them carefully into a case before going into battle. This show is fantastic. 

Officially, as of this moment October 29, 2021, I’m declaring there to be too many gay engineering students in BL for me to keep track of anymore. Bad Buddy has defeated me. It is the gear the broke the smock-covered back. 

Pat’s little sister is my spirit animal I LOVE HER. I’m sorry tho, I can’t call her Pa, so I’m changing the spelling to Pah henceforth. (It’s Thai to English, all spelling is merely a figment of your deranged imagination anyway.)  

The pace was great, this was a FAST moving opening episode. Ironically, that means I’m now concerned about pacing - a lot happened already, how are they going to daw this out into 12 eps unless it’s super slow burn? Then again, this is based on a Y-novel, so should be better than normal Thai BL (although the horrible looming shadow of My Gear and Your Gown is RIGHT THERE) so trust is thin on the ground.

All that said, we are off to a GREAT start and so far I’m loving this show. (I would have bet good money Ohm would be topless first, tho.) Also, yes we all GOT the Romeo & Juliet bits GMMTV, thank you for clipping us upside the head with those. Is Drake actually playing Tybalt? In which case, who’s Mercutio? (Randomly: does the kid playing Wai look like Heeseung from Enhypen to anyone else, or is it just me?) 

How cute was that bit where they subverted the wound tending trope though? Pran was like “You must be joking.” I got quite a chuckle out of it. 

Little to no seme uke with these boys, which is good, suits the actors’ dynamic. 

Looks like GMMTV is gonna both start (1k*) and end 2021 on a high note. Fingers crossed. Honestly it just so nice to have them back in the game. 

Episode 2 - Damnit, It Continues to be Good

The first quarter of this ep, with them trying to keep their friendship groups apart is so flipping funny. And then I remembered, the best of 2gether was when it did stuff like this. (That drunk scene with Fong flipping his shoe, Gunsmile in the dolly, and Tine driving air still makes me laugh). GMMTV’s stable excels at this stuff, it’s how School Rangers kept going all these years. And Ohm and Nanon are two of the best. It makes me feel like I am in safe hands when they do a montage run like this. 

Also, seriously, the amount for flirting these two do over text is off the chart. And should we talk about the epic eye fucking? Eh, probably not, it speaks for itself. Or doesn’t speak per say... just eye fucks. 

Epic Eye Fucking is the name of my punk band.

Amused to see the combined the mistaken identity game with the rooftop trope. Oh and post-it love note, haven’t seen that trope in a long while. 

I hate hate hate the scene with Heeseung - sorry, Wai - at work at the bar. Which means i really hate Pat’s friends now too. In fact I hate all their friends, this is a blanket statement - GMMTV rectify thyself. I want to love friendship groups in BL, not hate them. V annoying. I hope they all get booted from school for egregious shed collapsing. 

FOLK my love! I have missed you. 

NO SINGING. Thailand, we have talked about this at length! 

So they were separated eternally for being in a band together? 

I get it. They were singing in a BL. I’d have done it too. 

Meanwhile tickle is apparently a good word in every language. Although in Thai strawberry will forever be my favorite. 

BL = closing elevators on the good stuff since Cherry Magic. 

Episode 3 - Is this the one true scion of SOTUS?

I’m getting a serious “inheritor of our SOTUS forefathers” feel from this show (NOT a bad thing) but I’m not entirely sure why. It’s not the narrative, maybe it’s more an aura of confidence that’s the result of a combo of capable acting & solid production? Maybe you lot can help me figure this out? 

How smooth was the guitar pick student ID flirting action? Also a never before seen love offering. Adorbs. And then Pat paying for both their noodle bowls later. 

Boy is GOOD. 

Also, word’s second most handsome pick. First one? Here: 

I love Pat & Pran’s dynamic, it’s this perfect combative competitive flirtation. Reminds me a bit of PeteKao at the beginning of Kiss, although with less of an edge to it. 

Also reminds me of grade school. Honestly, when is Pat just gonna pull on Pran’s pigtails and dip them in ink? Break a slate over his head?* 

* (10 points to anyone who gets that reference.) 

This is a damn good script. 

It lets Pat, in particular, push right up to the edge of confession and then backtrack or turn it into a joke constantly (maybe intentionally, may unconsciously). This has the effect of jerking Pran around, but not maliciously. It means, i think, if they ever are going to actually get anywhere as a couple it’s gonna have to be Pran who really makes the first move, since he’s the only one who has the overt capacity for sincerity. 

It’s very clever. Makes me wonder if the original y-novel was this well done or if this is part of Ohm and Nanon’s dynamic coloring their characters. 

Question for y’all. 

Is “fighting with chopsticks” the new euphemism for “dueling with swords”? 

Asking for a friend. 

Oh and here’s a reminder, because I keep needing it with Pran’s friends. 

Apparently Episode 3 feels compelled to do a major TROPE DUMP. 

The appearance of the meet me in the library trope made me especially happy. Romance in libraries is a favorite setting. Also them pressed together in the elevator thing is fun, doesn’t pop up often in BL these days (Cherry Magic excepted). Plus some more predictable BL tropes: 

side eye, 

look of love, 

stare from a close distance, 

black & white striped shirt, 

lie on ground, 

central aperture framing, 

head pat, 

and so forth. 

On a serious note, the way Pat & Pran’s friends are driving them right back into the corners that their families did as children is really fucking sad. But it sure makes for excellent external tension. 

Looking forward to another week of all I care about is Friday, and not for the normal reasons. 

Episode 4 - annoying friends remain annoying

Look they’re starting to really bother me in an imma fast forward kinda way, they’re no longer adding to the story. Although it is fun to see them tricked into working. But I like to see anyone tricked into working. Leave me alone with a child and I’ll have them conducting regression analysis in about half an hour. (That is NOT a euphemism.) 

Pat wandering into Pran’s room and then just grabbing a book and setting up residence made me think that these two are also a puppy/cat pairing. 

I like the not-a-faen-fatale but more a friend from their past who knows who they are to each other. Cute twist on a tired archetype. Also I am fining myself basically delighted whenever Pat’s sister shows up. Why are sister characters such fun in BL? 

Yes but also... tiny impossible but very cute girl ship has set sail! 

Okay but how many times is Pat gonna call Pran cute or his boyfriend in this one episode? I mean boy actually couldn’t flirt any harder. And then to pretend he likes a girl. Tut to the tut tut. 

Pacing on this one continues to be excellent I’m still excited for where the next one is going. So far, this show is a win. 

Meanwhile someone asked me to go into why Nanon’s acting is so amazing, so I donned my professional-esk hat and had a stab at it here. 

I’d like to see them start redeeming the friendship groups at this point. Pat’s should try helping him win the girl and Pran’s shoudl recognize his misery and try to cheer him up. They can remain at odds with each other, but we (the audience) really need to like them more now. 

See you next week! Same Pat time, same Pat place. 

Episode 5 - they boyfriends

These two are basically boyfriends already. I can’t take the morning routine cuteness: pet names, ordering each other around the kitchen, stealing food. 

Thus the terrible date with The Girl (TM) was appropriately terrible and meanwhile... 

So Pat finally figures out his feels, isn’t jelly of a girl (is jelly of a boy). I kinda like that the jelly is being used to determine identity rather than just as a dumb plot device. 

This is a clever little romance. 

Thank goodness we only had to listen to one song tho. 

Meanwhile Pat is like, oh shit did we actually fall in love in high school and I never realized it? I love this kind of trope. Himbo alert! Big dumb bi boy utterly out of touch with his feelings is just too delicious. Also Ohm got to be subtle for a change, showing this whole remembering of old heartbreak just with nuances of facial expressions at the music concert. 

Question: At the Wai Pat confrontation scene, how did Pat end up on the ground? Did he just decide to fall down in the middle of a fight? I’m confused. 

Finally... GREAT FUCKING KISS.

Look I was gonna give kiss of the year to SamYu (and I still will because, frankly, Taiwan is just better about this stuff) but this one was REALLY good. Much more than I expected of GMMTV, although not from Ohm. 

We all knew he could kiss like a dream from Make it Right, and he was fricking 16 in that series. Apparently some things DO improve with age. 

Anygay, VERY nice boys. Thank you. 

And then Pat’s face. That tiny lost smile: absolute joy and then crushing disappointment in knowing reality won’t let them be together - almost in the same breath. Beautifully done. 

(A DM ask about this kiss has made me natter more so here it is...)

THAT KISS 

I don't analyze the experience of BL as a watcher all that much (more just type out my snarky reactions) but I was asked, so here’s more about Ohm and the kiss. 

I think that smile was a bit of everything: euphoria at having his feelings returned but also the hopelessness of their situation and also a brave front and also first love nerves. It was very complex. Ohm knocked it out of the park this ep but I've seen Dew so I had absolutely no doubt he could do it. 

I love that the director and story had Nanon carry the weight of the emotional burden for most of the first half of the show and now suddenly Ohm has picked it up. It's very cleverly done and could only happen with two extremely good actors.

I do think we are in for a very bumpy ride going forward as a result though. Both of their reactions to the kiss are foreshadows. 

How will they cope with the pressure of friends and family and secrecy if/when they are in a relationship?

Will they smile or wince or both, like Pat? 

Will the joy of first love be enough to keep them on the metaphorical rooftop together? 

Or will one of them run, as Pran did?  

If production is smart with the talent (and clearly they ARE), we'll get flip flopping of who carries the emotional burden of the narrative for the next 5 eps or so until The Dreaded Episode 11 (TM). 

Pacing is different in this BL though (this kiss came early) so DOOM might descend at ep 9/10 or even sooner. It’s hard to predict, this one. Yet another reason just to sit back and enjoy the ride. 

EXTRAS 

Pat & Pran’s language with each other: pronouns, honorifics, and endearment/insult teasing. 

More about the kiss and the dialogue on the rooftop and queer identity. 

Moving on from The Kiss That Broke The Internet. 

Episode 6 - Show Me the Seme 

I was thinking Bad Buddy was pretty much was not going to have a seme/uke dynamic (Thailand’s skipped it before), but in this episode we got us a classic seme active pursuit vrs tsundere uke resistance - so I guess for now, we back to normalcy.

Director Aof pretty much dropped in half the tropes of the Thai BL arsenal into this one episode, so my heart is full, but I think that was mostly to keep the pacing on point since this ep didn’t advance the story much: 

touch my lips and think of kissing, 

beach frolic, 

close stare, 

crash into me, 

drag baby around, 

boys contemplating water. 

The parents are whack immure arses but hay, Love Sick started that nonsense - it’s a grand Thai tradition. 

I kinda love Pat showing up on the bus. I literally said, “You little shit” while I was watching. Also, how much do I love Ohm’s “I’m a self satisfied little shit” face? SO MUCH. 

The dealing with sulky boyfriend at the marketplace was adorable, because of course Pran likes the bits of Pat that are most unlike himself, like the sunshine teasing. And Pat is just learning how to activate that to get his boy into a better mood. 

We ended with the best confession that isn’t a confession meets flirting but make it ridiculous scene in BL. It was great. Pran basically said, 

“Boy, you wanna piece of this, you gotta court me proper.” 

It was adorbs. Also, his smile when Pat calls him his boyfriend in the stinger = fantastic! 

Finger licking good, one might even say. 

I am anticipating these two giving us one of the best and most dramatic public claiming sequences ever. 

Don’t disappoint me, Bad Buddy.

Next week.... secret boyfriends trope launches at last. 

Episode 7 - Oh They Trope-Verse Seme-Switches! 

Okay I figured it out with this episode, Pat & Pran are classic example of no seme/uke, they’re also classic trope switches. I’m glad that’s settled in my brain now. 

I’ll talk about how I came to this conclusion in a moment, but FIRST... we need to talk about these two: 

I’m not sure GMMTV has the guts to give us a full on GL sub plot, but they are absolutely setting one up. But then they throw Wai with a crush on Pah into the mix, so ??? 

This will get v messy for Pran & Pat no matter which direction Pah goes with her choices. Which is very clever of the writers. I love it. I am ALWAYS in favor of clever writers. And you know I like messy. So I’m looking forward to wherever this sub-plot goes, GL payout or no. (Although I recognize there are gonna be some seriously disappointed tumblr rants if there is no actual GL.) 

Pran unleashing his pent-up flirt is a thing of beauty. Also the not-dating dating musical montage was adorable. 

Okay, so, secret boyfriends gave us all the tropes in this one, interestingly if you assume Pat is the seme from the last ep, these all largely subverted that dynamic. 

your relationship with that water bottle (standard seme execution, but I think they just wanted Ohm’s shirt off) 

wound tending (subverted) 

caged wall lean (subverted) 

the library assignation

sponge bath (turned into product placement, very clever GMMTV) 

baby is a messy eater (subverted) 

(Here’s the post where I talk about how certain tropes in BL basically “belong” to either the seme or the uke and that we should pay very close attention when the dynamic is flipped because the narrative is very much trying to tell us something about the motivation and complexities of the characters. A pair that does this while maintaining seme/uke but using it to show us how very soft that dynamic can be are SolorGui in Oxygen.) 

And then Bad Buddy used the cheek kiss, boyfriend peck kisses, and makeup removal trope to show Pat & Pran both pretty much doing this to each other at the same time. That’s basically screaming out that these two are narratively verse. 

So yeah, I’m calling it for no seme/uke in this BL. In fact this episode could be a master class in how to use BL trope expectations to counteract seme/uke standards. It was basically Thai BL undermining Japanese live action yaoi. It’s kind of like: 

Look at how far we have come! These boys will use your tropes for a verse agenda, thank you very much! 

Which I of course flipping loved. (You see what I did there - FLIPping?)

You know what else I loved best in the world? This line: 

You know why? 

Because it reminded me so entirely of Seryo in Seven Days: 

You know I love anything that reminds me of Seven Days. 

Yet again Bad Buddy kept the tension up with no slump in engagement despite this being (on paper) a pretty basic filler episode 7, thin on narrative. I must applaud them. I’m looking forward to more secret boyfriends next week. But I do think someone is gonna find them out. The question is... who? 

In other news: the mom character, instead of gay for you, she’s homophobic for you. Thank you thank you. Trope abuse is my forte. 

Episode 8 - Shirtless Secrets 

Finally the episode where Ohm spends most of it shirtless. The gay gods applaud you, GMMTV. 

So right, the breakfast in bed was so adorable. These two are the biggest flirty teases ever, Pat & Pran are both such good secret lovers. 

The fucking holding hands thing is going to wreck tumblr for days. Are you happy? I hope you’re happy. GMMTV what have you done to us. 

Odds on a shot of Pat miserable and cuddling this T-shirt after the inevitable break up? Come on, you know they wanna do that to us. 

I love the character trait of Pat being obsessed with the way Pran smells, speaking as someone whose partners have historically been dictated almost entirely by smell. 

Meanwhile the lesbians got the wound tending and the shrimp peeling trope - a rare but very important one, IMHO. (Thank you AePete. Incidentally the Thai polite style of peeling shrimp, with a fork and spoon, actually works REALLY well. I taught myself how to do it and am now a bit of a fan.) 

I actually don’t have a trope board for this one since it’s pretty rare. 

And we ended on tension. 

Did I say already that this show is written like, and reminds me a bit of, fan fiction? The way it’s paced, very nice. 

Episode 9 - Wooing a Friendship Group (or 2)

I thought this episode would have a lot more doom, I was pleasantly surprised by how soft it was. A ton of cute tropes were casually dropped: hair dry, face cradle, significant hand hold, the lying loom, boys in black & white stripes. Still, Pran’s friends, especially Wai = the biggest arses. I wasn’t sure they could redeem Wai’s character (and I’m still not sure they did although they gave it their best shot). 

Look, I’m only gonna say this once. 

If you make it hard for someone to come out, you don’t get to blame them for hiding themselves. 

Doesn’t matter what form that coming out takes (secret relationship or queerness). There are countless ways to demonstrate trust-worthiness and allyship, especially around your friends. The onus is on us to be the safe person, not them. 

Nanon playing crestfallen is ADORABLE though. 

Did you hear Korn use “nong” in this scene to mock flirt? It’s very very funny if you understand the implications of the term “nong” under the context of Korn & Pat’s friendship (equals and age mates) and Pat pretending to be jealous of Wai in order to cope with how much Wai is hurting his boyfriend. Korn is doing it to cheer him up. It was sweet and hillarious. 

Who knew Korn would turn into the biggest PatPran shipper? 

Meanwhile Pat chucked his crown into the ring for Bi King (gonna take a lot to dethrone Neo, Leon & Na, though.) 

Pat = Pransexual 

(Shut up, I am beyond chuffed with myself.) 

This is, in part, GMMTV making an obvious effort to correct for some of the great sins of SOTUS in particular and the BL genre in general (gay for you, wifey terminology, punching down humor, and poor GL rep). Marvelous that they are using their flagship show and its massive platform to do so. We of the Queer Normalization Brigade salute you. (Our uniforms are FABULOUS.) 

The GL ship got pushed a little out of port. 

Do I think there might still be some issues with the GL supply chain? Why yes, yes I do, but it’s still very nice to see an attempt made at delivery. (See what I did there?) 

Anygay, we got the friendship groups to come around and now... the parents! How much you wanna bet this drive the break up? Also I really hope the boys uncover a really good reason for the breach between the families, it’d be a lot better if they gave us a solid external stressor. 

I got faith though. 

Episode 10 - Wai’s Lesbian Redemption

Honestly this ep started with the public claiming sequence to end all public claiming sequences. This may win this trope category for all time. 

I really appreciate the continued efforts to keep this drama light - much lighter, in fact, then it has any right to be. I think I have laughed out loud in pretty much every single episode. 

Similarly I appreciate the ridiculous care and thought they are putting into crafty product placement. It’s almost like they are making fun of the way this was handled in 2gether. I wonder if it will spawn more of this kind of mockery in other Thai BLs going forward? 

There is a literary technique called light housing, which is when writers take a flaw or inconsistency in a text/narrative/plot, and instead of trying to burry it, they highlight it and call attention to it, sometimes with 4th wall breaking, sometimes by ostentatiously turning it into a plot device or pivot point. The way Bad Buddy treats product placement feels like that. There’s this attitude of “well if we must include it, instead of trying to hide it let’s make it a party. It becomes less clumsy and shoehorned in (like in Kdramas or other Thai BL) and more an extra playful perk, like a cheerful garish bauble. 

It suits the Thai style to approach product placement this way. 

Could we talk about the Wai giving up on Pah sequence? 

Good, ‘cause we’re gonna. 

Far be it for me to turn the lesbian arc into a chat about the straight dude in the mix, but that’s what is about to happen. (Probubly my most anti Bechtel moment, ever.) 

First of all, Pat’s attitude is aces, let’s just put that out there. For an older brother to say about his younger sister (in Thai culture), “I’m gonna let her make her own romantic decisions” Is fantastic. And maybe wouldn’t have happened if Pat hadn’t been through his own conflict over romance and identity.  

But we gotta talk about Wai. 

This was actually one of the best redemption arcs possible for Wai’s character and one of the most queer moments we’ve gotten in what has been, so far, one of the queerest Thai BLs I’ve ever seen. 

There is along and very storied history of straight dudes (patriarchies, whole cultures) not believing in lesbian relationships because “real love” and “real sex” must involve a penis. Gay sex and relationships have historically been treated as taboo, disgusting, or sickening - but valid. Lesbian relationships and sex on the other hand, have mostly been treated as laughably impossible or inconceivable. 

In the past, this lead to things like Boston marriages, where women spent lifetimes together as partners and were tacitly permitted to do so simply because "romantic love and sexual interest between two women is simply not possible.”  

(When I harp on about queer being a feminist issue, this is one of those aspects.)

So the way Wai just instantly notices and believes that Pah has a crush on Ink and that this crush is not only valid but OUTRANKS his own is INSANE. Like never before seen on screen. 

He accepts that it is Pah’s right to like whomever she wants, and if the one she likes is a woman, that’s not important because it’s just as valid of a choice. 

I can’t tell you how important this kind of scene is in film. And how much it redeems his character. 

This is a HUGE queer statement being made by this narrative. It’s unprecedented. And it’s specifically one of lesbian support. 

Also it goes up against BL notions of the prioritization of a crush over mutual affection. Wai backing down is a way of saying not only is queer love as valid as het love, but that a crush is less important than the return of feelings. 

Meanwhile, Ink’s stink eye is the best.

Ink asking for permission is even better. Gotta love consent. Not to mention cheek & forehead kisses. 

Also the return of dark room romance! 

Anyone else getting PickRome vibes? 

Back to the main story:

Of course it all turns out to be the sins of the father. What did we expect? 

Although, honestly, it’s a bit rich (pun intended) for someone in such a fancy-pants outfit to be complaining about having her life ruined. Things seemed to have, frankly and fashionably speaking, turned out okay for Pran’s maa. 

Next week is ep 11, but who the f knows with this show? It seems to be specializing in non-standard BL behavior patterns. 

Episode 11 - Doom Light

A sort of achey wistful episode 11, because we know, right along with the characters, that Pat & Pran’s attempt to escape the family strife is, in fact, doomed. 

This whole honeymoon sequence (including the shoehorned allegory about Junior not wanting to go back with his mom + Uncle wasting his life on ideology) is just another one of those coming of age moments. Running away and still staying part of the world isn’t really possible, even if you don’t like the world or can’t fit into it (the world doesn’t like you). 

For me the saddest part was at the end when Pat & Pran stand in front of their respective homes crying, because the idea of going home should feel good, and safe, when for both of them it’s the opposite. That is such a queer experience - it was like a gut punch. 

And suddenly this show is reminding me of I Told Sunset About You. 

I’m now going to speculate on the time jump final ep. 

If they really are going to go there, that is a VERY Kdrama tactic. Under the auspices of the tropes of those dramas (and not BL) the following can happen:

the ending is left up in the air but slightly implies that they get back together (see Something in the Rain) 

they get back together in the last 10 min of the last ep, in what feels like a super rushed job (see most het romance Kdramas) 

we return to the Japanese roots (of both BL & Kdramas) and Bad Buddy doesn’t end with an HEA, but instead with them still apart and a sentimental romanization of lost love

In this last tactic, the romantic glory is vested in the unchanging nature of the memory of having once experienced the true passion of youth. The two characters often reminisce about their past over drinks together. I have been known, at my most acerbic to call this “Arthouse Smackdoodle.” 

Now, I am open to being surprised.

In fact, please surprise me. 

Because I don’t like any of these 3 options. In my personal opinion, Kdramas are unquestionably weak around endings. 

On the other hand, with the increasing quality of the BL and companion talent, production values, and performances we must acknowledge the silly frivolous fluff is going to lose against the compulsion to be taken seriously. Especially in a narrative like this one, that doesn’t have a compelling story, just compelling acting and directing. 

So I’m not sure if I should be legitimately scared by the Episode 12 teaser. Or if I’m being expertly manipulated to be scared. Or if I am betraying trust in Bad Buddy by being scared, even though it clearly wants me to be. 

ARGH. 

Honestly, this whole series journey has been a bit much for me. I’m happy Bad Buddy is ending next week not because I didn’t like it, but because I like it too much. 

I need less stress and more poor quality Thai pulp bullshit BL in my life. 

I know, I know. Be careful what you wish for. Paint With Love is still airing. 

Episode 12 - Glory Be, They Stuck the Landing! 

In which Tumblr collectively decides if BB can’t stick the landing, we riot. We did not get off to an optimistic start. I hate hate HATE the Kdrama time jump in the final episodes trope. If you’re gonna do a reunion romance you should do it from the start. I don’t like it when he has to go away and find himself by writing a novel, or solving a mathematical proof, or any of that rot. 

It’s the equivalent of saying to the audience that the characters found something more important then their love for each other, yet we just watched a whole fuck-off drama about how important their love for each other was. You can’t do us dirty like that. 

Oh look! I’m FINALLY ranting about this show and I am less than 2 minutes into the final episode. Only it’s not really this show at all. Squirrel! 

Fortunately, as they have been doing all along, Bad Buddy subverted this trope too. 

Take THAT Kdramas! 

Pran apparently landed in Singapore. (Don’t make them speak English, please.) 

Singapore is one of my favorite places on earth. That view out Pran’s window is of the Marina Bay Sands hotel, I've stayed there! Here's what the Singapore Strait looks like from the roof at sunrise (it’s my phone backdrop).

This has been your moment of glob trotter reverence. 

I return you to your regularly scheduled waffling.

I actually liked the bit of Pat getting together with old friends. It reminded me of exactly that kind of thing in my own post-uni days, and the three on screen together are good. Made me wish I'd gotten more of that friendship dynamic all along. Jimmy really is a great addition to the GMMTV stable. I'm looking forward to his BL this year. (Did you know he's a doctor as well? Apparently.)

The reunion

Did I tear up at the longing glances across the room? Of course I did. I am, after all, a sap. Plus both actors are so good at emoting. However, the high school reminiscing at the reunion was too drawn out for me.

That said, I was happy to have been tricked for the first half of the episode. 

They did long distance and stayed secret lovers the whole time. Nicely twisted but a bit too much audience manipulation. It’s going to fail on rewatch potential. Better than the other options, tho.

And then... the hanging photos trope. Been a while, a rarely used one but fun to see. Reminded me of Dark Blue Kiss and PeteKao’s secret anniversary - a sweet call back from GMMTV to one of their other “keeping it in the closet” romances. (Great, now I want do a DMK rewatch.) 

T-shirt memory sniff... called that one.

Also that’s a v cute subversion of the punishment trope, Pran.

The horsing around and wrestling ending was pitch perfect for this couple and this drama but also pleasingly unusual for a romance story. 

Bad Buddy really tread the line between BL and queer romance and I kinda adore them for that. 

This is a special little drama, and how lucky to get to start the year this way. 

The bar has been raised, Thailand. 

In the end, I loved Bad Buddy. 

The family struggles and friendship group made it a little bit difficult for me to take at times so I am not certain how much I’ll end up rewatching this one. We shall see. 

However, the acting was really excellent and the ending was unexpectedly satisfying if not typical romancey. For now, I am giving Bad Buddy a solid 9/10  - 9.5/10 if I did that because of all the queer affirmation and effort put in to specifically subvert damaging Thai BL tropes. 

HIGHLY RECOMMENDED

(source) 

[takenbyheartstrings]

[3] KISSES IN CAIRO

marc spector x wife!fem!reader , (eventual) steven grant x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT!!!! (extended warnings under the cut) fluff, angsty, this will end w/ a poly relationship!

word count. 2.8k (most is smut)

a/n: sorry for making you guys wait so long... between me being sick with a HORRIBLE cold and waiting for moon knight to finish so i can stop being confused on how to write these, i finally bring smut. as a gift <3

SERIES MASTERLIST | add yourself to the taglist (or ask)! previous chapter | next chapter

CHAPTER THREE. animalistic instinct.

extended warnings: p in v (unprotected pls wrap it before you tap it), daddy kink, sub!reader, (soft?)dom!marc, praise kink, slight spit kink, fingering, oral (male receiving) slight edging.

You and Marc walk into the hotel room you’d be staying in, it was quaint. It consisted of only a mirror, a bed, a desk, and a window, draped with beautiful red curtains that did give a terribly nice view of Cairo. Albeit you and Marc had probably spent more of your lives here in Egypt rather than New York or London. The two of you made the move to the UK in 2012. Aliens were a bit out of your pay grade, and they had the Avengers. So, you left and started a life, the two of you put a down payment on a nice apartment, and you still lived there. Your life certainly wasn’t boring with Sekhmet and Khonsu wondering over your shoulders, but it made do.

Marc’s eyes carefully graze your skin as you open the curtains to let the moons light in, “We should come up with a plan.” He speaks softly.

You turn to face him, nodding, “I think that’s best.”

Marc pulls out his laptop and you pull out a couple dossiers, “We need to locate and track down Harrow’s followers.”

“Do you still have that dossier on that group of teenagers we found before my whole disappearance?”

You nod, “I do, but I doubt they’d still be actively running around Cairo, Harrow knows were on his tail. Why would he keep his little minions keep going about their business?”

He runs a hand over his face, “…I dunno, we just need a lead, baby.” He pulls you close to him, “You think we could look into this?”

“I think it’s a potential dead end.” Air escapes your lips, “But it’s worth a try.”

Marc presses a kiss to your lips, “Okay, we’ll see what we can do tomorrow… right now, I’ve got a lot more on my mind than some fucking asshole,”

Another kiss to your lips, “It has been six months, hasn’t it?” Your eyes are heated, doused in desire, “I’ve missed you… a lot.” You take your bottom lip in between your teeth.

“I can imagine, Princess.”

Marc pulls you so that you sit on top of him, the laptop is discarded on the nightstand and the dossiers fall to the floor as both of you are on the bed. You’re straddling his waist as the two of you are kissing, your teeth clash together, and your tongues are entangled with each other, it’s messy and full of purpose and desire. Your hands are on his chest as your body begins to grind on his torso. You’re moaning against his body, against his kiss as the two of you are in motion together. Marc flips you onto your back, your legs are around his body still, Marc in between your thighs as he grinds against your body in between your thighs. You’re moaning and Marc’s doing the same, and you feel yourself get wet. Your arousal is not missed as Marc can feel your kisses getting deeper and deeper.

Marc pulls away from the kiss and you’re already sweating, waiting for everything to come, waiting for everything perfect. Waiting for his cock. You know he won’t give it to you just yet. Sex with Marc isn’t quick, no. It’s slow and rough. You know he’ll make you beg for it. You know he’ll make you beg to let yourself let go and cum, you know he’ll edge you if he thinks you deserve it, and the anticipation is eating at you.

Marc’s rough hands untangle you out of your clothes. Kissing down your neck, you’re on display for him. He’s leaving open ended kisses, marking you with bruises. Your body is grinded against the fabric of Marc’s clothing. Leaving him in agony as he continues to pepper your skin.

Your moans become desperate and needy, they’re soft but quiet, and speak yet so many words. There’s a dying need, a thrill, something that’s missing – the two of you have needed each other for so long, it’s been six long months and all Marc wants to know is how the slip of your fingers into your own dripping cunt isn’t anything compared to his thick cock. The need to press himself inside of you is becoming too much, but he wants you to feel all of him.

He knows he shouldn’t allow you. That you haven’t begged for it yet, that you haven’t deserved it yet. He can throw your attitude from earlier into your face. He can tell you that you’ve been a brat. A brat undeserving of everything that sits in his tight, tight jeans.

His nimble fingers run down your body, grazing your skin. All you can do is shudder, think about yourself underneath him. How he has you pinned down in his control. Honestly, it was the hottest thing ever. Everything you’ve wanted for so long. He was gone for so long.

The thought almost made you want to stop and just hold him, but he was intoxicating and everything he was making you feel was put into so much desire. So much touch and need. Marc needed this. You needed this. There was so much that could be said by the kisses that were left on your body and the way your cunt just drips for him.

Marc can’t stand the feeling of not having you anymore. Not tasting you for everything that is you. His tongue moves around your body, down to your tit, where he circles your nipple with his spit and saliva. Sucking your sensitive hard tits. It makes your back arch slightly against his mouth, as your nipples stand on their own.

Marc’s hand trails down your body as he sucks, the sweet sound of his tongue and mouth against your tit. The sound of his suckle. His hand makes its way into your inner thigh, his hand trailing your slit and Marc lets out a growl. A sound that you’d never heard him make before, the sound of his absolute need his absolute fucking desire. He was so hungry for you. He really, really needed you.

“God you are so fucking wet, Princess.” He growls again, fingers running over your pussy, “All for me? All for daddy?”

You groan at his words, squirming underneath his touch. He’s all you feel, “Yes, all for you, all for you daddy.” You speak softly, biting back a moan, although he’s barely even touched you yet.

The heat that radiates off of both of you is intense. Marc’s fingers finally slide into you, making you gasp. His tongue still flicks on your nipple as his fingers pump in and out of your cunt, making you squirm in pleasure underneath his touch. Your hole is tight and ready for Marc as he keeps pressing his fingers into you. You can feel yourself almost fold underneath his touch. Marc’s fingers are deep inside of you, thrusting into as if it were his cock, as if he were giving you all of him when you know he’s giving you barely anything at all. The time spent apart has put some strain on your relationship, but now that you’re back in his arms, there’s this dying hunger. His fingers are pumping deeper, harder, sliding in and out of your slick juices as you moan, your back arches a little more as Marc moves his tongue against your tit, it moves further into his mouth.

Marc’s mouth releases your tit, a line of his spit following along, leaving a glistening coat over your nipple. He pulls his fingers out of your cunt as you whimper carefully, basically begging for more.

Marc slides up to your face, meeting your eyes, “Open your mouth, Princess. Open, c’mon.”

Your mouth slides open just enough for Marc to slide his fingers inside, the same ones he used to just finger your cunt, making you taste yourself as he touches the back of your throat.

“You like that, Princess?” He questions, as you nod against his fingers, tasting all of you. Tasting your sweet. Marc’s fingers are soon replaced with his tongue, “You want me to fuck your mouth, Princess?”

You nod again… but Marc isn’t having it.

“Beg for it.” He orders as you look up at him with pleading eyes, he takes one moment to get off of the bed and pulls off his shirt, he goes for his belt buckle, “Beg. For. It.”

“Marc please.” You speak, “Fuck my mouth, please, please, please.” Your pleads are endless, with a smirk, the belt comes undone, and your husband stands in front of you in all his glory. His thick, long cock, the one you’ve had inside of you so many times. The one you’ve fucked, the one you’ve sucked, the one you’ve wrapped your hand around and made cum.

The same one that slides into your mouth without warning as you moan around it, Marc’s bodyweight is on you. He holds the bedhead as he presses his cock into you. It’s wet and desperate, just like the hole that sits in between your legs. You’re wrapping your tongue around him as you move, as he grinds up against your face, pushing in and out, pulling out for not even seconds to allow you a breath of air before diving back in and letting you see fucking spots. The way he pounds your face is addicting. Your eyes watering, going red, the way your cheeks are filled by every single inch of his cock and the spit that drips down the sides of your mouth makes Marc harder, hotter, makes him want to give you more.

“Oh yeah, just like that.” Marc speaks as he continues to fuck your mouth in, the only sounds that are heard in the room are the heated sounds of your mouth as all he does is mimic the way he would fuck that tight little hole. That’s what he wants to do. He wants to fuck that hole and cum inside of it. Fill you up with it all. Mark his territory. Although, he would prefer to do that in every single hole that you had available, he’s only got the one cock.

“Oh fuck, Princess, you’re taking me so good.” He smirks as he continues to push his cock deeper and deeper into your mouth, and then he pulls out. As simple as that. He pulls away. Leaving you gasping for air. Your slight cough isn’t missed as Marc looks at you softly, you get the hint and just nod, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Confirming that you’re okay. It’s all Marc needs to keep going.

“You want me to fuck you, Princess?” He says carefully as his eyes land on you once more, pulled away from the lull of your kiss.

You nod eagerly, “Please, Daddy,” You plead, your voice soft.

Marc smiles, putting your legs apart, elevating them slightly as he shoves his cock into you, pressing against you. He adjusts you slightly, finding the perfect angle to pound you in from. His cock is slick in your fluid. How his cock moves in and out so easily. So flawlessly. How the slit of his tip is pressing against your g-spot in the most desperate way. How deep he’s pressing into you is telling you all you need to know about your six months apart because it’s not like he’s fucking you just to fuck you. He’s fucking you because he needs to be inside you. It’s like both of you were missing something and this was it. This endless connection the two of you share. How you’re not even sure where your body starts and his ends because the two of you are moving in sync, moving in the same ways as you moan. Your face contorting into the most beautiful thing Marc has ever seen in his life – what he missed the most. You. It's you. That’s all he fucking needs. His cock is pressing into your tight, desperate, needy, cunt and he’s loving every second of pounding into you so hard it’s almost like the two of you might just become one being completely. How your tits are bouncing as he pounds, and your thighs are slapping ever so slightly against his legs as he holds them whilst he hits your g-spot in all the right fucking ways.

You can feel yourself and you can feel that warmth flowing all around your body, you feel that burning in your stomach that is so indescribable. That is just pleasure. All you need is that release and you’re getting closer and closer and closer to the edge, it’s becoming unbearable and all you need to do is let go and all you know how to do is beg for it.

“Fuck, Marc, please, let me cum.” You speak, your voice strained, the sound of his cock pounding into you and the sound of his cum filled balls slapping against your ass in the desperate need of both of you coming closer and closer to the edge. Needing it. Wanting it. It’s all that you desire and it’s all that you could ever fucking want. Right here. Right now.

“Wait for me, Princess. Only a little more.” Marc lulls you, he’s careful in the way that he speaks. Letting you know that it’s okay to hold it in. To delay your pleasure by the sliver of a knife just so you can both feel something. Just so you can feel the pleasure together.

You nod eager as Marc picks up the pace, continuing to press his cock, further and further into you, deeper and deeper until all you can feel is him. Until all you can feel is how desperate he is for your goddamn pussy. For the orgasm of your cunt.

“Let go Princess.” He speaks and that’s exactly what you do. You can feel the twitch of Marc’s cock inside you as he fills you with his own fluid and you can feel the way your back arches as your orgasm coats his cock in desperation and desire. How needy you actually are to feel him and have him.

Marc’s riding the two of you off of the pleasure. The way you both fall slower and slower. How your elevated legs are being slowly let down my Marc’s hands as the fluids of two are moving together in slick sound and motion. You and Marc are now lying together, legs tangled in between one another as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“You did so good for me, Princess.” He presses another kiss to your lips carefully, pulling you closer to him.

“I missed you, Marc.” You speak softly.

“I missed you too.” all he can do is pull you closer. He just wants to hold you now. You honestly think he's crying a little. It would be a lie if you said you weren't either.

*

You’re struggling to sleep. You’re in Marc’s arms and although you are sleeping, you’re in and out of your own consciousness. That’s until you finally decide to slip out of Marc’s embrace and look over files and on his computer. Deciding if you can try to locate some of those teenagers. See if they’re running around Cairo. See if they’re still doing Harrow’s dirty work.

There’s not much you can do from the computer. But even so, research is key to most things… that’s what you’ve learnt over your six months kept in the dark.

You’re now in one of Marc’s shirts. It’s a shade of navy blue and it’s a bit long on you. But it covers most of you, so you’re decent. You don’t need to be. You’re in a hotel room with your husband after he’s just fucked the living daylights out of you.

But it makes you feel just a little less venerable.

You open the computer and open up the tracking software, along with some of the dossier files. The desk chair is uncomfortable, compared to the one in your office where you spent endless nights awake like this. But it would do. Your back would be fine.

A lie you told yourself to make you feel somewhat better about the way you were sitting hunched over the desk with barely a light to shine over it.

The tracking software beeps with a notification. There are several new people on the software. Little green dots moving around Cairo. But this one’s in Australia. Your gaze turning into a soft glare as you try to get a better look at the who it could be.

You’re intrigued, and a deep pit falls in your stomach, there’s something wrong. That’s the only thought repeating in your head over and over and over again.

But before you can see the name attached to the tracker, Marc stirs behind you, “Princess.” He calls out, “Where’d you go?”

He sits up and meets your eyes, before getting up and walking towards you, wrapping his arms around you, “C’mon, baby, come back to bed. Stop working yourself so hard.”

He kisses the top of your head, as he closes the laptop, his breath quickens a little bit as he grabs somethings off of the desk.

You’re not sure if you’re just tired or you hear the way his heartbeat elevates, but you ignore all the instinct you have and simply just smile, “Alright.”

-

tysm for reading! again, i apologise for the lack of activeness toward this series, but i'm gonna try to update every Wednesday (aest) to fill the Moon Knight void <3

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[osmiabee]

I really want to make a coherent post about the intersections of colonialism, global warming, poverty, and church community vs government responsibility and how that restricts both societal and individual movement against homophobia in previously colonised countries but I’ve never actually written anything coherent in my life.

Anyway my white friend compared camel trekking to slavery the other day so that was cool I guess.

[queerautism]

Something a lot of the idiots on your posts don't seem to understand is that the UK isn't just temperate, it's also HUMID AS ALL FUCK and that makes the heat exponentially worse.

I know you've already had a lot of good advice. Probably everything I could say has already been said, or you've found it on google.

I just. I live in a borderline subtropical/tropical climate. July and August days like to hover around 40° with around 80% humidity. It fucking SUCKS. It sucks so bad there are laws here saying that you cannot rent out houses or apartments that don't have central air conditioning. Window units don't count. Our buildings are literally designed to hold as little heat as possible. Even the materials we use are different, and have been since the 1890s, because summers like this are fucking deadly if you don't specifically plan for them.

I cannot imagine trying to weather this shit in a house with no A/C that is designed to trap heat instead of vent it.

Hang in there, and don't let the internet gaslight you. It really is that bad.

Thank you so much. I really think some people don't understand how much worse humidity makes it all feel, but it is absolutely horrible.

[yeet-wolf-in-the-stars]

After ending Apocalypse, Kaidanovskie invite people to the dacha (summer house in the village)

The only thing is that they forbid anyone taking the plane directly to the nearest city to the summer house. They insist on taking the train. The platscart specifically.

The thing is that in PR universe in 2025 would be trains would be in the same (or even worse conditions) then they're now. So most of the trains wouldn't have proper air conditioning or heating and temperature regulation. Sounds horrible. But I like that. The seats are small. The space between the second-floor bed and the "celling" is tiny and you can't sit properly.

Yes, I'm aware that Alexei is 2.1m. Trains are a part of culture even if you can't fit.

So yes. That's nice that characters are used to shitty conditions because for the whole time they'll be surrounded by several screaming children, displeased people and random guys who'd be constantly giving them weird looks. They'll be eating tomatoes, cucumbers. But mostly instant noodles and instant potato because THAT'S WHAT YOU EAT ON LONG DISTANCE TRAIN TRIPS. They'll also drink tea from the cool glasses and sparkling/still water brought with them because buying anything in the train is as expensive as selling the soul. Also, probably some local juice and fizzy drinks!

(fun fact I've never drank from these glasses).

Newt and Hermann are definitely getting the seats on the side. And they're constantly arguing about whether they need to have a table at this specific moment or not. Newt did the bed for both of them and demands that this is the reason why he can claim the table or not. Hermann who is seated there just wants to have some fucking rest so he mostly disagrees and says that "This is my place, Newton. When I need the table, I'll put it".

He definitely spends the time reading and looking out of the window because SORRY THAT'S THE BEST THING. The train is shaking, making comforting noises and the forests, fields are "running" outside of the window. It's also a nice place to read even though it's noisy.

Newt is probably irritated and bored very easily. He engages in the conversation with others, listens to music but still that's not enough. (Train trips also seem like a hell for a person with ADHD but I'm not sure). Later, Alexei notices the boredom and offers Newt to play a game. (Looked up and Wikipedia says that it's also important in UK (?)). Really not sure.

But Alexei explain the rules of the Battleship (or Morskoi Boi in russian) and I think Newt kinda likes it? Later, I think they play with Hermann definitely trying to "destroy each other's ships". Competitive boys. (But they find out later that it's getting very easy for them because of the drift)

Sasha occupied the second floor bed and sleeping. Alexei sometimes stand up just to fix the blanket. (Which is actually a sheet but whatever. Just soft Kaidanovskie). She doesn't fucking care about the noise. She just sleeps (Russian trains are great for sleeping. It's the only place where I can sleep properly). Alexei only wakes her up for her to get down and eat something.

Alexei himself is telling stories with a help of the translator and also offers to play cards (Durak specifically because it's simple and popular) (Some explanation time but "Durak" means fool and the one who lost the game is actually a fool).

For some reason I think Mako is very good at it and she's winning most of the time.

I think that at some point Tendo is bored and actually starts building a house out of cards. In a moving and shaking train. I'm aware that it's not a good idea but it's actually possible. On one of the stopes Kaidanovskie drag everyone out just because "it's 30 minutes stop! It's time to have a little walk". And maybe it's late in the evening. Or maybe it's the sunset. (Assuming that the film came out in July, all these events are happening in the summer). Anyway, the air is a little bit thick but also fresh. It's actually nice to be outside of the train.

Old ladies and women selling staff near the train in little tents or just having things in their sacks.

Alexei buys some pirozhkis. Sasha some ice-cream, asking others whether they want something. (When it comes to already made foods like pirozhkis, there's the question how fresh they are... But you can only hope).

Genuinely for me the stops are amazing. You are in another city. And you'll soon move away from it, leaving it behind. But at this exact moment, you are here. Looking at the unfamiliar surroundings and understanding that you might never visit this place again.

Bonus thing: I think Newt would find it kinda funny to walk up the stairs which are like THAT. Also, the view from these things are amazing.

Later, when the lights are turned off, most of the people are struggling to lie down comfortably but eventually everyone fall asleep because no one can resist the calm shaking of the train.

If you're here, thanks for reading! You're a hero!

[sarahjkl82-blog]

Artistic Instinct Chapter Nine

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 6500

Warnings: Language as always, warning of racist language (Nush talking about her mother's experiences), yearning, fluff to second base (yes, my darlings- IT IS ON!), alcohol is mentioned, food, anxiety attacks.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

People often think artists

Create with their hands

But really they create

with their hearts

So please be gentle

For we wear our vulnerability

On our sleeves

And freely give all we have

Hoping someone will fall

In love with the parts we offer

R. Evelyn

Chapter Nine

The sharp buzz of the door startles you out of your daydream. Laden with roughly the entire contents of your spice cupboard, vegetables, meat and prawns, your hands are crisscrossed with creases from where the weight of the totes has gouged at your skin. A smart-looking kindly gentleman greets you, “You must be Ms Pierce. Mr Pike has asked for you to wait here for him.”

Wow! Marcus’ place has a concierge - who did he have to blow to get a place like this?!

Throwing the bags onto one of the hotel lounge-like chairs, you slump into another as you rub soreness from your hands. A small ping tells you that the lift has arrived - you look over in the direction of the noise, a tremor of excitement rippling through you. An adorably scruffy Marcus, wearing old jeans and a t-shirt, steps out - his face utterly beaming on seeing you. “Hey! How are you doing?” he leans in to kiss your cheek twice - hang on, when did this start being a thing?

“Why didn’t you let me pick you up? You’ve carried so much over- lemme see your hands,” his brow knits on seeing the rapidly reddening welts as he takes your hands in his, brushing his thumbs gently across your palms.

“You live four roads away from me - they’re not that bad! And anyway, you can help me now- which floor do you live on?” You outwardly roll your eyes at the sweetness Marcus shows you, secretly enjoying the stroke of his fingers and the ghostly press of his lips still burning a hole in your cheek.

Marcus takes all of the bags from the chair, refusing point blank to entertain you helping him to take them upstairs - you watch as his arms twitch under the weight, enjoying the mixture of confusion and shock at your strength across his face, “you carried all of this?”

Nodding at him, you try to take a bag again, but he dangles it just out of reach, “Watch it - you do realise that I have two other brothers apart from Ads? I will think nothing of rugby tackling you to the floor and pinning you down,” you warn, enjoying the flush brought to his cheeks.

“You’ll be the death of me,” Marcus flusters as he calls the lift, handing you the smallest, lightest bag.

✪✪✪✪✪

Exiting at the top floor, you’re taken aback by the amount of light and quiet that washes throughout the building. Feeling so removed from the shadows cast from the tower blocks and the hustle and bustle of the streets below, the broad daylight offers a sense of serenity, a peace that invites itself into the soul and makes itself at home. As Marcus unlocks the door to his flat, you kick off your shoes at the entrance, “You don’t have to do that,” he offers through the keys in his mouth, holding the door open with his elbow, still refusing any help from you.

“Oh believe me, if I didn’t, my mum’s radar would go off and I would be cruising for a bruising,” you giggle, taking in the glorious spaciousness of his apartment, “I promise my feet aren’t too stinky and that I put on clean socks.”

“Whatever makes you comfortable,” Marcus’ eyes crinkle at you, “Can I get you something to drink or eat?”

“A coffee would be ace - strong and black please,” you reply, your gaze drinking in the details of his home. Books line the shelves along one wall - such a mixture of titles ranging from airport bestsellers to obscure art catalogues - the relief to see actual paper and hardbacks adorning the shelves rather than trinkets and plants when so many keep their books electronically in their pockets.

A couple of large canvases lie propped against another - long hours preventing them from being hung - their bright colours sure to bring joyful hues to quite a stark room. There are a few photo frames dotted around - mostly pictures of a moment in time rather than poses - of people you assume are friends and family from back in the States. Handing you a steaming mug, Marcus looks over your shoulder as you look at a photo of an older couple dancing and laughing at a wedding, “That’s my mamá and papá at my oldest sister’s wedding. It was such a magical day - just so much love in the air.”

“You can feel the joy radiating from them,” you offer, lowering your gaze from him to grab the frame next to the picture of his parents, “Are these your sisters or cousins? You all look very alike.”

“Yeah, my little sisters,” he grins proudly. “This one is Beth - she’s two years younger and is a paediatrician in Texas. Has two kids with her wife, Sophie. And this one is Cat - she’s doing her own thing out on the West Coast as a musician. They definitely inherited all the clever and cool genes.”

“Hah! You’re kinder to your sisters than I am to my brothers,” you grin, “They’re all total idiots but due to some weird genetic and biological insistence, I still love them.”

Taking a gulp of your coffee, you turn back towards him, “Come on you, we’d better get to work if you want a curry this evening.”

He pouts, looking more like a sulky little boy than a middle aged man. You can’t help but laugh at the sad puppy dog eyes he is conjuring at the thought of work, “Oh poppet, what’s wrong?” you teasingly mock.

“I kinda hoped you were a magician who could just magic a curry outta nowhere so we could watch films til the others arrive,” Marcus grumps shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Well, there is UberEats for that but you horrible lot put me up to this so you’re going to help,” you wag your finger at him, “But as you’re the only one here, you get the honour of being the chief taster,” you add, tapping him playfully on the nose.

With a soft huff and a furrow of the brow, Marcus guides you into the kitchen where, whilst he was making your coffee, he has helpfully already put all the fresh produce in his fridge as the sides are delightfully blank apart from the bags of spices.

“What are we making today, Chef?”

“Ok, meat dishes are a spiced yoghurt leg of lamb, a keema - don’t you give me that look, a cardamom butter chicken, and, a prawn and courgette curry,” you turn to Marcus’ fridge to find the lamb, “Needs to come to room temperature before we cook it.”

“My tummy is rumbling already,” Marcus adds, his eyes glinting excitedly as he licks along his lower lip, the skin glistening damply. You have never quite figured out whether your love of his lips is due to their fullness or the association with the kindness of his words.

“Hah- you’re not getting away without having some veggies, too, mister,” you cluck as you hand him a bag of onions and several bulbs of garlic to skin, chop and crush for the various dishes.

“Ok, Moooom,” Marcus dramatically rolls his eyes at your dictate, “I admit, I’d rather eat sugary or salty things over green stuff but I can make an exception for curried veg.”

The arch of your eyebrow virtually reaches your hairline at him teasingly calling you mom, so you reach for the towel, twist it and flick him hard on what you’d hoped would be his hip but catch him square on his arse instead.

A yelp of pain and wide eyes greet your action, “Did you just…? Oh, it is on.! You might think you’re tough from your brothers but my sisters taught me sneaky tactics.”

“Come at me, bro!” you taunt from the other side of the kitchen, putting up a boxing stance.

Brandishing the hand without the paring knife in your general direction, he answers, “Nope, gonna use the element of surprise and attack when you least expect it!”

Tutting your tongue at Marcus’ weak ass response, you grab the spices you need to prepare under the power of your pestle and mortar. With the waft of roasting cumin soaring through the air and your battle with your boss at a supposedly declared ceasefire, everything starts to feel comfortable and easy again. You could be six years old and standing on the chair next to your mum, watching like a hawk as she lovingly prepared meals for your family with an ever burgeoning belly. It was then, during those hours shared in the galley kitchen that became your time with her when normally it felt pretty split between her work as a GP and your brothers.

What the fuck… You jump out of your skin when a warm, solid wall presses you out of your nostalgic reverie, “Hah! Pinned ya! Sneaky tactics- told ya they worked,” a deep, soft voice whispers in your ear.

Your heart flutters like a bird trying to escape its rib cage with the closeness of Marcus, the heat rising through your body from your proximity to him - a visceral response to the glorious cocktail of masculine smell from his aftershave and body wash.

What do I do next?

Why can’t I bloody think straight?

Wiggling yourself around so that you face him, his face now so close that you can feel his warm breath upon your cheeks. Your eyes playfully catch the steady gaze of Marcus’ deep soulful pools. It would only take the smallest of movements to reach forwards and kiss him right on that stupidly gorgeous, plush Cupid’s bow and crease. But… what if he doesn’t want that? He’s my fucking boss - that would be a stellar move to make…

Instead of the tiny incline forwards to press your lips against his as every inch of you screams to do so, you drop to the floor and crawl out from between his legs, “Not pinned well enough it seems,” you tease haltingly as your tongue sticks in your dry throat.

As you check the browning of the cumin seeds, out of the corner of your eye you see Marcus’ head drop sadly, hearing a small sigh - his hands still upon the work surface and feet not having moved from the position he had pinned you in moments earlier.

Did he want to...? No, surely not.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, Nush,” Marcus humbly apologises, pushing himself off the side, “I hope that I haven’t made things awkward.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” you softly say, pouring the roasted cumin into the mortar, ready to be ground, “I was the one who flicked you on your arse - I am the one who should be apologising.”

You beckon gently to Marcus, who has now taken refuge in the furthest corner of the kitchen from you - wringing his hands instead of chopping the onions, “Come over here - I want you to experience one of my most favourite smells of childhood. These are roasted cumin seeds and when you grind them, they release the most heavenly scent.”

After a few grinds, you offer the bowl towards Marcus’ face as he closes the gap between you, “I… Wow! I wouldn’t have thought it would make such a difference but it’s almost like you’ve entirely transformed it. See,” the dimple deepens in that right cheek of his, “you are a magician.”

“I love how spices - a bit like paint - can take on completely different characters depending on how you treat them. Leave the spice whole and you have this mild and fragrant taste. If you crush them, then their attitude comes back tenfold with a vengeance. Toast them, and they may as well be Clark Kent in a phone booth.”

Looking up you see Marcus gazing at you with a sweet half smile on his face - could he like me… like that?

“Sorry, you don’t need to hear me blathering on,” you fluster, waving your hand in a dismissive gesture as the heat rises through your face.

Shaking his head gently without dropping your regard, “No. No, please don’t ever stop. Your passion for things is beautiful.”

“Growing up, I didn’t realise that other people didn’t have whole cupboards filled to the brim with herbs, spices and seasonings. I mean, for all the damage the British Empire reeked, you’d have hoped that the spices would have entered more of their culture, but no! Apparently, my family was the weird one for having food with a flavour,” you shrug your shoulders at some of the ridiculous things you’d heard as a child - accusations of differences you’d never thought to be of note.

Marcus chuckles at your indignance, “It’s funny you should say that. I didn’t realise that my mamá had an accent until it was pointed out to me when I was a kid.”

Noting your slightly confused expression, Marcus explains, “She’s Argentinian- came to the States as a political refugee as she was a journalist following the disappearances during the Dirty War. Met my dad, and I came along very soon after, and the rest is history..”

You can’t help but laugh at the flush on Marcus’ cheeks as he recounts his personal history to you, “Love can’t be held back when it hits and it’s obvious that they’re still crazy about each other now from that photo.”

“Exactly, no point in wasting time when you know what you want,” Marcus grins, looking at his feet.

“My parents have a similar story. My dad is as English as they come - I mean we’re on a freaking island so there’s no true thing as being completely English. My mum is from Pakistan - Karachi - it’s in the South.”

“She came over due to the fighting between East and West Pakistan - the two countries that are now Pakistan and Bangladesh. It kept interrupting her studies to become a doctor so she came to England and restarted her degree here.”

Marcus’ brow creases in thought, “Why did she restart her degree? Could the credits not just be transferred to the college she moved to in the UK?”

“Hah- yeah. It was the seventies, during a time where all Southern Asians were P*kis - no matter where they were from on the Indian subcontinent- and thought of as dirty, lesser beings. There were constant race riots for anyone who wasn’t ethnically white or English. She would never have been taken seriously with her mediocre medical training from some Adobe hut in the middle of a jungle,” you fume, pounding the seeds into fragments. The mortar being threatened with the same fate too.

Marcus’ fingers wrap around your wrist to try and prevent your rage at the ignorance of others from causing you an injury, “I am so sorry,” he pulls you into a warm, tender hug, tucking your head under his chin, “How long before food can take care of itself so we can put a film on? I think we both need a rest.”

“Hmmm, ten minutes and then most things can simmer or be switched off ready for a reheat or proper cook this evening,” you say, leaning reluctantly out of his comforting arms to go check on the bubbling saucepans of food.

“‘K. I’ll go get things set up so you can flop for a bit,” Marcus touches you gently on your shoulder as he goes to set up the front room. You go to squeeze his hand but it’s removed from your shoulder too quickly for your response.

✪✪✪✪✪

“You ready?” Marcus calls through the wall as you turn off the heat from the final pans.

“Mhm,” you mumble in response to his question - double, triple checking that everything is off. Too many fire alarms ruining perfectly lovely meals or moments.

“What did you pick?” You ask, curling up on the other end of the sofa to Marcus, “Do you have no cushions?”

“Shit, no -I’m a guy, what can I say? - lemme grab the pillows from the bed,” Marcus jumps up, calling through from his bedroom, “Bet you have loads on your couch.”

“A fuckload, but, mainly to hide the fact the springs have gone. It’s like a precarious balancing act of comfort on there,” you surreptitiously sniff the pillow, inhaling the smell of Marcus’ shampoo, “Did you give me your pillow?”

A confused look is shot at you from the other end of the sofa, “Whaddya mean?”

“Smells of your hair,” you say as you squish it into the perfect comfy shape, “Like a mixture of lemon and eucalyptus.”

“That’s a sharp nose you’ve got. I gave you the other side though,” Marcus huffs through a chuckles he shakes his head at your somewhat strange comment, “Guess I’ve been sleeping across both sides then.”

“Best thing about sleeping alone- getting to starfish across the bed. Unless of course…”

Marcus can’t help but laugh at your awkward dig to find out whether he’d brought home the goddess from Friday’s antics, “So you wanna know if I brought home Kemi?”

“She was very beautiful. You’d have been mad not to,” you try to school your expression as best you can, keeping your eyes glued to Bing Crosby and Grace Kelly singing about true love, desperate to hide the jealousy coursing through your veins.

“Must be mad then. Didn’t even kiss her,” Marcus honestly answers whilst copying your tactic of staring at the tv, “She could see that there was someone else I liked so it would have been cruel to have done anything.”

You mull this over in silence, trying not to speak, to ask a million questions.

“Nush.”

“Mhm?”

“Can I talk to y…”

You both jump as an alarm goes off on your phone to remind you to turn the lamb down in the oven.

“Oh shit. Hold that thought,” you jump up from the sofa, heading in the direction of the kitchen with zero thought of what the man at the end of the sofa is desperately trying to tell you. Fiddling with Marcus’ ridiculously swanky oven until it looks like it is doing what you want it to do, you walk back in with two ice cold beers from his fridge.

“Raided your fridge,” you cheekily grin, holding one out to Marcus, the condensation running, down your fingers, “Hope you don’t mind!”

“Good thinking, Batman,” Marcus nods in appreciation, “Any more alarms set to scare us both?”

“Only due to go off when the film is done, so…” you yawn widely, “We’ve got a while yet.”

Marcus’ hand that was slung over the back of the sofa, lifts to stroke your shoulder, “You sleepy? C'mere, you.” With a soft tug of your t-shirt sleeve, he pulls you into his side - your willingness to sink into his broad chest very apparent. Your ear is pressed against him, his heartbeat singing a lullaby to you as his fingers stroke and caress the silken waves of your hair. You wonder at how this man - a total stranger a week ago - has seemingly knitted himself into becoming a cocoon of safety for you, his gentleness and calm offering a haven of tranquility in your otherwise cacophonous world, as the light in the room slowly fades to black.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Uh oh.”

“Hey, welcome back, sunshine!” a gentle pair of fingers stroke back the hair that had drifted into your face as you dozed.

“Sorry for falling asleep. Again,” trying to finesse your way through the heat flaming your cheeks, you offer an awkward grin towards your chuckling pillow, “Guess we’d better start getting things finished as we’ve only got a couple of hours until everyone arrives.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Marcus! I don’t want to move either but this curry won’t finish cooking itself.”

“Spit spot, there’s work to be done,” Marcus trills as he adopts his best attempt at a British accent.

“What the fuck was that? Did you just turn into Dick Van Dyke or something?” You tease mercilessly at the appalling sound coming from those lips, choking back laughter at his mock offended face.

“C’mon, you’re right. We’d better get moving,” Marcus stands with a stretch and a creak before reaching back to tug you to your feet.

Back under the glowing lights of Marcus’ kitchen, his presence is now constantly close to yours as you glide together around the space - stirring, chopping and checking. Every time he passes, above the general aroma of cumin and coriander, the onions and garlic, you can smell the cedar and amber upon his skin- a deliciously masculine scent that only seeks to entangle your senses further.

“Here, try this,” you hold out a heaped teaspoon of mince curry to Marcus, “This is the keema - I promise that I only put in the two chillies you chopped for me, this time.”

“Mmm, that’s so good,” he says thickly between chews, stealing the spoon from you as he dives in for a second, third, fourth spoonful.

“Hahaha! Leave some for the others- and you need to try it with some raita and fried onions too,” you check through your dog-eared, yellowed and slightly sticky recipe book that your mum had handed you the day you’d left home at eighteen - a memo of all the times you had cooked them together.

“Shit, I’d better start the chicken,” going through the spices in front of you, you search for the cardamoms that would make the butter chicken sing, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Marcus’ head snaps up from the green beans he was preparing towards you, “What’s up, sweetheart?”

“I can’t find the cardamoms for the butter chicken - gah I knew I’d fuck this up!” you cry, scraping your trembling hands through your hair, eyes flashing around the room wildly as your cortisol rises, making you want to run and scream at your failure to feed your friends.

“Whoa - where’s this coming from? C’mon, look at me. Look at me, Nush,” Marcus has his hands on either side of your shoulders, squeezing them gently, “There’s enough here to feed our whole office for the week with the daals you prepared yesterday, the vegetables we’re about to make and the meats that we’ve cooked up already here. Andy is bringing all the rice and naan, Kiri is bringing beers and Dian is on gin and tonic duty. You have done more than enough and I will not allow you to get this upset over one missing ingredient especially when there is a small store downstairs that I’m sure will have it, if we cannot find it after we look for it together.”

After seeing your numb nod as an agreement, Marcus moves his hands to the side of your head to focus your gaze on him rather than the panic seeping through you. As he strokes his thumbs across your cheeks, you allow your eyes to close and your breathing to regain a normal pattern.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologising?” Marcus searches your now open eyes.

“My reactions are ridiculous. Most people tell me to stop being so stupid and that just whips the storm inside my head even more,” you whisper, “But you. You know how to slow everything down and stop the spinning.”

The corner of Marcus’ mouth twitches, “D’ya wanna know a secret?” You nod at him, “As you know, I was married before. When it ended, I totally spiralled. The world kept spinning too fast and I experienced constant anxiety, very nearly burning out of my role.

“I was lucky. My boss was understanding but made me promise to get some support. He knew of someone mental health trained within the FBI who was there for mainly hostage negotiations - not part of the true psych team but someone who could help without it turning up on your record.

“Kwame worked with me for almost a year - pretty much to the point my decree absolute came through. Our sessions were done on a track - by running with me, he was teaching me the skills I needed to control my fears. By my feet hitting the tarmac, he was grounding me. By going over running techniques, he was teaching me how to control my breathing- taking longer and deeper breaths. And running is just repetition. A mindful repetition that allows your brain to have a bit of a break.

“So when I see you start to spiral, I try to give you the same steps he taught me. Get you grounded, opposite me so you copy my breathing and hope that gets you on the right track.”

“Thank you,” you drop your head forwards, relaxing onto his chest. He feels so - safe.

“You don’t need to thank me. Well, okay maybe you do as look what I’ve just spotted,” Marcus holds the offending spice aloft.

“Oh my god, I could fucking kiss you. You have just saved the curry,” you dramatically declare, clutching the cardamom jar to your heart before placing it next to the other ingredients on the counter.

“Go on then.”

What?

His comment makes you snap your head over to catch Marcus’ tremulous gaze, his eyes darting between the floor and your lips. He takes a small step, closing the small distance between the two of you, threading his fingers between yours. Each slow movement offers an unspoken opportunity for you to step away. To tease him and move on with the day.

But why on Earth would you?

With your heart racing faster and faster, you lure him ever closer with your eyes, soft but absolute in their conviction of what was about to pass between you. A small part of you understands that when you kiss him, something will change forever. That within his lips you may find the place to call home - the aching in your stomach may cease and life could start to make sense again. The anxieties of the week washing away, the pain of your collective pasts and the hint of a brighter, happier future before you.

When he doesn’t move again, you seize the moment. Pushing up onto your socked tiptoes, you tilt your chin, inclining your face until your lips come to rest upon his in the sweetest, chastest kiss. Drawing back slightly to check that Marcus is okay with a raise of your eyebrows and widened eyes, he holds your gaze steadily, similarly stunned - a mirror of each other with racing hearts and slightly parted lips. It’s like in that moment everything around you ceases to exist as anything other than extraneous nonsense - all the noise inside your head silenced by that one touch.

A small dumbstruck smile creeps across Marcus’ lips before he lowers his head to press another gentle kiss upon you. Then another. Then another. Each press of your lips a little longer. A little deeper. Your lips part to allow his tongue entry as every single thought is quietened by the taste of him. Dropping hands for his to cradle your face and yours to thread through his hair as your bodies press together tightly.

Oh the taste of him is utterly exquisite! From where you’ve been using him as chief curry taster, there’s an element of spices with the tiniest hint of mint. And how you have missed having that beautifully solid warmth of his body next to yours. Inhaling his breaths that fall upon you, your hearts match each other’s rhythms as your lips explore each other, every sensation drawing together to create a humming ball of energy, like you are standing at the point where lightning strikes the Earth.

✪✪✪✪✪

Hands fisted tightly in each other’s clothing - both stuck in the quandary of wanting to tear the fabric from your bodies but also frightened of pushing the other too far. Finally pulling apart, you gaze upon Marcus - all lust blown pupils and dopey smiles. Your foreheads come back to rest against each other, unable to quite let go just yet, not wanting to break the spell and return to reality.

“I have wanted to kiss you since perhaps the first time I met you,” Marcus murmurs as his lips gently ghost over your cheeks, “Maybe even from seeing the photo in your file when Andy drove me here from the airport.”

“Was the person, me?” You quietly ask, finally with the confidence to finish that conversation, “The reason you didn’t kiss or sleep with the goddess?”

He drops his eyes as he gives you a small nod, “Normally, I’d have just asked you out but I was scared of fucking up. It’s been a long time since I felt a spark with anyone.

“You’ve entered my life in this whirlwind of intelligence, beauty and tenderness - I didn’t want to frighten you or make you feel uncomfortable if you didn’t reciprocate.”

A thousand thoughts flood your mind as Marcus says those words. All at once, you want to tell him how safe he makes you feel. How much now that you’ve started kissing him, you never want to stop. How the cruel critics of slumber, silence themselves when you feel his heartbeat against your cheek.

Instead you stand there, silent.

Trying to stroke out the creases you’ve created in his t-shirt as you attempt to find words to put into a logical order, you notice his face twitching when the material under your fingers makes contact with his sides, “Oh Marcus, are you ticklish?”

“Um, no,” Marcus tries to deny breezily as he takes a small, hesitant step back from you, pretending to steady himself.

Making a small movement towards him, your hands at the same level as the point of the bunched fabric - you ask, “Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah,” Marcus is now eyeing you suspiciously - desperate to kiss you again but also a little worried as to what havoc your fingers might reek.

“Then, why are you moving away from me?”

“No reason…” his usually deep voice now a little tighter and higher, “Nush… What are you about to ARGH!”

His knees crumble beneath him as you attack his sensitive sides, “Gah! Quit it, woman,” he weakly commands between wheezes and hoots of laughter.

Taking full advantage of Marcus’ prone and vulnerable position, you take the opportunity to straddle him - effectively pinning him to the floor, “This is how you pin someone.”

“I let you pin me,” Marcus corrects you with a wink.

“Oh really?” you contest, entirely unconvinced by his bravado.

“Yeah,” he says with a small wiggle, bringing his hands to the back of your head, “Cos y’see, I can flip our positions quite easily.”

Suddenly, you find yourself flat on your back in Marcus’ kitchen with zero air in your lungs to form any sensible thought other than to kiss him hard. His large hands cradle your head as he props himself gently above you on his elbows. You feel his entire body covering yours. Deliciously pressing against every single inch of you and oh how it takes every bit of the minutismal amount of self control you have to not beg him to fuck you senseless into that floor.

✪✪✪✪✪

“Shit, is that your door?”

“Fuck,” Marcus pushes himself up to kneeling between your legs, “Can we pretend we’re not in?”

The harsh realisation of an evening with your colleagues, albeit lovely people, sinks in to you both.

“Nope,” you groan, popping the p with a deflated gusto, “Hang on, don’t buzz them up until I’ve tucked my boobs back into my bra.”

“I dunno, makes for easier access,” Marcus lopsidedly grins with a wink as he heads for the door.

“You certainly didn’t seem to make hard work of it earlier,” you mumble at him, before you affix a smile to your face, “Hey! How are you all doing?”

A sea of never ending hugs envelopes and separates you from Marcus as everyone piles into his apartment. The stupid grin still firmly in place on your face since you’d first kissed, you find that every time you look over at him, he’s gazing right back, mirroring that lovestruck smile.

“Oh my god, it all smells so amazing,” Dian waxes lyrical, squeezing you tightly as she inhales a lungful of exotically scented air, “What’ve we got?”

You take her by the hand into the kitchen to show all the different things you had bubbling away. Andy ducks into the kitchen behind you, laden with bags filled with pilau rice, naan and chapatis, and a beautiful small bunch of spring flowers in his other hand - tiny tête-à-tête daffodils with multiple heads along each stalk, brilliant yellow and red tulips standing like soldiers and the otherworldly looking stems of hyacinth, wickedly scenting the air under your nose as he thrusts them under there.

“Hey pretty girl, here’s all the bits you asked for. You deserve a much bigger bunch for what I’ve roped you into but I know you love the early blooms,” he offers by way of apology, sticking a kiss to the side of your forehead, “Smells fucking good though as ever. Hope you don’t mind but I’ve brought a box to take some home for Greg - he was a jealous arse this evening so I suppose I should share.”

“You know the way I cook, enough for several small armies,” you wonkily grin at him, truly thankful for the part he’d had to play, “‘Fraid there’s no easy way to say this and you will have to be the one to break it to Greg, but there’s no butter chicken tonight.”

“You’d better have a damn good excuse for this slatternly behaviour, madam,” Andy gives you a serious side eye for this infraction.

“Well…”

“Initially Nush couldn’t find the cardamoms but then we ran out of time. Plenty of food here, though,” Marcus answers for you, his hand gently holding your hip as he reaches around you to grab a couple of beers from the fridge.

You see Andy catch Marcus’ hand lightly stroking your side as he walks back to Kiritopa, but are entirely grateful when his expression and mouth say nothing. The light chatter in the kitchen, whilst Dian dips a teaspoon into all the pots, is interrupted by a small knock at the door. Sticking your head around the kitchen door, you spot Marcus opening the door to a nervous-looking Harper. Andy sidles past you, to pull her into the main room, rather than her previous position of standing on the doorstep, utterly awkward and obviously feeling quite out of place.

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind me coming. I know I wasn’t there Friday but I don’t really do large crowds and drinking.”

You walk over to her amidst the chorus of “not to worry”s and “lovely to see you”s, “Fancy something to drink now? Got plenty of soft options and I think I’ll stick alongside you as I’ve got to make sure I don’t burn stuff.”

“Including yourself, this time,” Harper retorts quickly with a small smile and a raise of her eyebrows.

“Hah, chance’d be a fine thing,” Andy laughs, slapping your shoulder before turning back to clink bottles and talk with Kiri and Marcus.

✪✪✪✪✪

Through the full length doors of Marcus’ balcony, evening spring sunshine streams through, bathing the group of your co-workers in a gentle, diffused light that flows around the room coating you in a golden glow. You all eat your fill and then some, with full tummies and tired eyes - the kitchen still full of half eaten dishes.

“Can we make this a weekly thing?” Kiritopa asks through a mouthful of food, hopefully.

“Not unless we take it in turns or get a take away - I don’t have the physical or emotional energy to make this level of curry every weekend,” you pointedly remark, looking up from your coke to meet Marcus’ eyes.

You’ve spent the evening barely speaking to each other for fear of alerting the others but surreptitiously brushing past so that you can sneak touches. Tender hidden strokes that feel like the kindest stitches on hidden, gaping wounds.

Marcus stands up to help usher the evening to an end and get you to himself again, “I have some boxes for y’all to take food home as otherwise, I’ll be eating this for weeks - delicious as it is.”

Everyone thankfully takes their boss’ hint and head into the kitchen to grab platefuls to reheat after long days. Slowly saying their goodbyes, your friends drift off in the direction of their homes as you throw yourself in an exhausted heap of bones on his sofa. Two strong hands grip you under your arms, to drape your torso across his lap.

“Hey tired girl,” you slightly open your eyes to spy a smiling Marcus gazing down at you. His fingers draw lazy patterns over the sensitive skin of your neck.

“I’d like to take you on a proper date this week. Wanna do this properly. Make a bit of a fuss.”

“Yeah? Not just pin me down and ravish me on the kitchen floor?” you grin widely at him.

“Well, I’d hardly call that a ravishing…” your eyes widen, eyebrows raising at Marcus’ comment, excitement pooling in your tummy, “Yeah, I saw there’s an Argentinian restaurant in Blackheath so how about steak, Malbec and homemade ice cream before I bring you back to either yours, or mine, for another, even better ravishing?”

“That sounds amazing, although with the amount of food in my belly, I may never have to eat again,” you give your stomach a rub, “But the ravishing…”

Hauling you up to sitting across his lap, you protest loudly, “I am going to crush your legs.”

“Stop making ridiculous comments and c’mere,” Marcus demands as he gently turns your head towards him, stealing a delicate kiss from you.

“I...should… - argh! Stop kissing me for a second,” you beg halfheartedly, “I should go home.”

“Stay.”

“Please stay,” Marcus desperately entreats you, “I’m not expecting anything but I’d love it if you stayed. I know you’ve got nothing here but give me two minutes and I can have a spare toothbrush for you. I’ll drop you home early tomorrow morning so you can grab some clothes and then we can go into work together?”

It feels as though the wind is knocked out of your lungs with the depth of Marcus’ need to be around you.

How does he do it?

“There’s no games with you, are there?” you twist in Marcus’ lap so that you now straddle his thighs, placing your hands on either side of his ridiculously handsome face.

“No,” he shakes head slowly, all the while holding eye contact with you, “I’m too old and I know what I want.”

“What’s that?”

Stroking his hands up and down your sides as he nuzzles your neck, he clearly and confidently declares,

“You.”

Tag list of glory (as ever, please ask to be put on or dropped from the list): @astroboots @silverwolf319@sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @sugarontherims @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @pedropascalito-deactivated20210 @mouthymandalorian @mrsparknuts @zukoyonce @agirllovespancakes @yespolkadotkitty @lunaserenade @theravenreads @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

[cryoburdened]

london was such a horrible and tiring experience that i needed two whole days of rest afterwards to cope, lmao.

i was very unwell the entire day due to the heat. couldn’t eat much, tho i rly tried!!! drank lots of water, never felt much better.

that heatwave was no fucking joke, it was downright dangerous to be out there. i lived in a tropical climate for 3 years, so i know how bad hot weather can be. the uk just isn’t built for it.

but at least i got my fingerprints and criminal record check submitted. we watched a musical in the evening when i perked up a bit so it wasn’t a total loss but jfc i never want to do that again.