#anyways im out of drink and the effects are happening this was a mistake

[xxplastic-cubexx]

SUPPORT CHARLES-

wait what if its First Class Charles?

if its first class charles Respectfluly im shilling out one hundred dollars for the first comic skin available

[jkxcutie]

✮filter✮ 01

⊹ if you cant tell i suck at titles and just use song names

⊹ jimin x fem!reader

⊹ ive rewritten this three times already im praying this is the last time

⊹ enjoy!! :)

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

your back hit the side of the bar with a soft thud, hands gripping the arms of the man who had pressed you up against it.

it was dark and clammy in the alley way but neither of you seemed to care as you kissed hungrily. your shirt began to ride up as he smoothed his hands over your sides, squeezing your waist. he kept you close to him as he continued to roughly kiss you.

did you know the man you were kissing? no, you didn't. but the way you two were eyeing each other in the bar showed that this was bound to happen.

you gasped as you felt him run his hand under your shirt, cupping just below your boob. it was as if he was in a rush, no time to take things slow as he grind himself against your pelvis.

you let out a whimper when he pulled away from your lips, instead leaving messy kisses on your collar bone. he rounded his hands to your ass and squeezed hard while pulling you closer to him if that was even possible.

"fuck you're perfect," he whispered into the crook of your neck, causing your breath to hitch. but sadly, before it could go any farther, there was a disruption.

"hey where's jimin?" you both tensed at the voices that were growing louder, but not for the same reason. he let out a quiet groan, rubbing a hand over his face before hooking a finger under your chin and bringing you in for another kiss.

"ive got to go," he whispered, a look of annoyance on his face. all you could do was nod your head, head still fuzzy from the moment before. he kissed you once more, lingering inches away from your face for merely a second before shooting you a small smile and walking out of the alley.

you panted as you watched him walk away, disappearing around the corner of the bar.

"there you are!" you heard a male voice boom, mixing with the sound of what seemed to be a group of guys talking and laughing. suddenly conscious of your appearance, you fixed your shirt and smoothed your hands over your pants.

you waited for the voices to fade before walking out the alley.

you would be thinking about this moment for who knows how long.

------

"wait so tell me again?"

you rolled your eyes at your prying friend, letting out a sigh of annoyance.

"i already told you, i made out with the dude in an alley by the bar thats it,"

"and this dude happens to be a kpop idol?" her eyes were wide as she looked at your nonchalant expression. you shrugged your shoulders.

"i didn't know," although you were acting nonchalant, you were secretly freaking out on the inside. how could you have made such a mistake. making out with an idol in an alley?? what was he doing in your small town anyway?

"well know you do, so whatre you going to do about it," your friend asked excitedly but you only raised an eyebrow.

"nothing?" you said as if it was the obvious answer, because to you it was. what was the point? how would you even reach out to him when his social media was no doubt run by a management team.

"howd you even find out his name- did he tell you?"

you shook your head, taking a sip of your drink before answering her question.

"no his friends were calling him while we were yk.." your face began to heat up at the thought again. your friend smiled at your expression, effectively teasing you about it until her phone began to ring.

"oh shit its my boss," she began to get up from the table to answer her phone. "ill be right back," you nodded, watching as she pushed open the glass doors of the cafe.

now that you were alone, you began to really think about the events of that night. the way his soft lips pressed against yours, or how he called you perfect, or the way he slid his soft hands under your shirt.

you caught yourself smiling at the thought before quickly shutting it down. he was an idol after all, he could have anyone he wanted. you were probably just an outlet to him, seeing as you didn't show any signs of being a fan. maybe he just wanted to be with someone that didn't know him.

when you heard the door bell chime you looked up, fully expecting to see your friend walking back inside. instead, a group of guys came in laughing and talking. you looked away, uninterested in what a group of young guys were doing.

that is until you heard his name.

"jimin i swear to god stop touching my hair-," the voice was playful enough but that wasn't what you were focused on. your head snapped up when you heard the name, mouth hanging wide open when you saw him.

when you saw the group turn in your direction to find somewhere to sit you couldn't bring yourself to look away. it was only a matter of time before he saw you.

his eyes widened but other than that he showed no indication of surprise or shock that he saw you here. the two of you stared at each other until he was close enough to touch. both of you looked away, neither one wanting to give away the fact that you knew each other.

soon enough the group had found a corner to sit in, they were talking and were seemingly discussing plans for the day. although you weren't looking anymore you could feel his eyes on you.

almost as if on cue, your friend walked back in. only to stop in her tracks and gasp loudly when he saw the group, catching everyones attention in the cafe including theirs.

she sheepishly smiled, before rushing to sit down across from you, leaning down low to whisper.

"thats them!" she whisper shouted.

"no really? of course i know that," you snapped, embarrassment running through you. he was here. you could go right up to him and say something. anything.

"so whatre you going to do?" she asked, completely ignoring your sarcasm.

"nothing." you sounded defeated because truthfully, you wanted to do something.

"bullshit im not letting you waste an opportunity like this," without giving you a chance to speak she walked up to the registers, conversing with one of the waiters as you watched in confusion. but when you say her point specifically to where jimin was sitting you got a small idea as to what was happening.

when she walked back to the table she had a large smile on her lips and you were afraid to ask what she had just done.

"i gave the waiter your instagram account and told her to give it to him when they were getting ready to leave," she said it so proudly but in that moment you didnt know if you wanted to strangle or hug her.

without another word you got grabbed some cash from your purse and placed it on the table before rushing out of your seat and walking out of the cafe as your friend chased after you.

you began to walk home in silence as your friend tried to make you see how this was a good thing. how if anything he'll just ignore it and that nothing bad would happen.

but that wasn't the issue. the issue was that you knew you'd be stuck, staring at your phone waiting for a message only to be majorly disappointed when you didn't get one.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

ik this is probably a really cliche concept (like i said i haven't written for bts since 2019-2020) but im listening to filter and this was the first idea i thought of and i wanted to write it so here it is

[waatermelon-sugaar]

Take Care of Me

Pairing = Santiago x reader

Words = 5.5k

Summary = A discussion about sex toys turns into something more … concrete

Warnings = Swearing, talk/description of mild anxiety. SMUT (18+ only), use of handcuffs in a sexy way, oral, piv sex

A/N = Prompt no.8 requested by @itspdameronthings​ as part of my 300 follower celebration, thanks so much, hope you like it! Prompt was “Despite what you think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself” w/santi and bolded in text. Also 3 things; 1 = Tom doesn’t exist in this AU, 2 = this is basically pure smut im so sorry, and 3 = I did do head hopping in this, which I know you’re not like supposed to do but also fuck the rules y’know?

Posted to AO3

Masterlist

***

It’s always easy to be loose after one of Benny’s fights.

It’s a heady mix of adrenaline, beer and testosterone, swirling together into a mix that makes you forget your normal boundaries. You’re normally quite brazen about your sex life anyway, but there is a line. You respect your partners, and there’s no need for your teammates to know too much.  

You’re all packed into a half-moon booth, Benny straddling a chair that he pulled up to the table after he spent too long chatting up the bartender.

It’s a small comment from Benny (because of course it’s Benny), saying that you haven’t got laid in a while, and you’re honestly surprised he noticed. But then, that’s the only predictable thing about Benny, that he is unpredictable.

Your surprise means you take a little too long actually thinking about it, which confirms Benny’s statement. You lean back a little in your seat, desperately ignoring Santi, who’s sat to your left. It also means you bite back a little harder in defence.

“Well maybe if you guys didn’t look like you’re about to murder anyone who even dares ask for my number maybe I’d have better luck.” That’s a lie, but there’s no way you’re going to tell them the truth. No way you’re going to tell Santi-

Your thoughts are interrupted by Will, sat to your right. “So you’re asking for our help?”

You scoff, hitting him up the head. “No, thank you.” Will knows why. Because of course he does. One of your oldest friends, he’d been the one who convinced you to join the team in the first place. “Despite what you think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself.”

You send a wink down to the table to Benny, who’s the first to catch on, hollering, and you try not to react to Santi leaning forward, suddenly interested, as though you’re not already hyper-aware of every body movement of his.

You continue, deciding you’re quite enjoying the effect you’ve had. “What do I need some stranger for when I can give myself a better orgasm than he could ever dream of?” You take a sip of your drink to hide your grin, as both Benny and Will holler, gaining a few glares from the pub’s other patrons.

That sip means you’re unprepared for Santi to lean in closer to you, his lips so close to your ear that you can feel his breath. “Maybe ‘stranger’ is where you’re going wrong.”

You swallow, unprepared for the sudden flare of attraction shooting through you and turning your head, just as he says, “I could take care of you.”

You catch a glimpse of Santi’s fuck me eyes when Benny (the dickhead) interrupts. Crossing his arms on the sticky table in front of him, he asks, “Does that mean you have toys?”

Frankie’s hat somehow tips lower on his head, if that’s possible.

Will twitches towards his brother, like he wants to strangle Benny for being so uncouth, but you put your hand on his upper arm. “Of course.” The best course of action is to just act like this is normal, so add a bit of air to your voice. This was normal. “Who doesn’t?”

There’s a blush rising on Benny’s cheeks and you can’t help but stoke it, grinning at him, and attempting your best bedroom eyes. He’s still not too ashamed to ask though. “What kinds?”

Will decides he’s had enough, glancing at Santi behind you with a frown and hitting Benny over the head in an imitation of the way you’d hit him. You laugh, unexpectedly pleased at the reaction you’ve gotten. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Benny nods, eager, even as Will stands, grabbing a hold of him, and steering him towards the bar. “Yes! Yes I would!” He manages to throw back at you and you laugh again, twisting your body to face Santi and Frankie, bringing your left leg onto the bench.

***

Meanwhile Santiago is in hell. He’s been in multiple hellish situations before, most similar to this one, in that it was always the 5 of you, bullets flying around your heads, rifles in your arms, weighed down by heat and sweat and tac vests.

And yet somehow, he thinks this might be the worst. Your foot next to his thigh, your knee bent, pulling your jeans up your leg and exposing your ankle to him. Watching you flirt with Benny, talking about sex, and toys, and masturbation. When that's all he wants to do with you. He just has to get the courage to tell you.

With you, there was a before in Santi’s life, and an after.

Before he knew you; and after he knew you.

Before he loved you; and after he loved you.

Except Santi’s not quite sure when he fell in love with you.

It started when Will introduced you as the newest member of the team, one of his childhood friends. He didn’t mean for it to happen, he treated you like he treated anyone else, quickly discovering that you weren’t like anyone else.

He welcomed you into his life with open arms, starting off innocently - he wanted to spend time with you. You were Will’s friend, which meant that there must be something good about you. You made him laugh, made him feel safe (even when he wasn’t). He’d wanted to do the same for you and thought he did a pretty good job.

He became your friend, until one day the two of you were watching a film. He can’t remember what it was, just that you were at his house, drinking and laughing and talking, huddled in one of his blankets, and looking like you belonged there, forever.

Falling in love with you was so easy, Santi didn’t even realise he was doing it.

Santi’s still impressed with himself that he didn’t just blurt out the words then and there. I love you.

How long had he been in love with you for? He couldn’t pinpoint down a specific moment. He remembered the night when you’d become friends - the last two around the bonfire, toasting marshmallows, making that awkward small-talk that occurs between acquaintances.

You’d made him laugh, playing chubby-bunny and teasing him until he’d had a go. You’d talked and talked, and Santi can’t even remember what about. Nothing, probably. The basics. Boring stuff, but filled with details that he’d used to keep the conversation going the next day.

He knows when he became your friend. Recognised when you trusted him more than the others, with the exception of maybe Will.

But he didn’t know when he fell in love with you. Just the day that the love became so overwhelming in his chest that he realised it.

The real nail in his metaphorical coffin was the night afterwards. The 5 of you had gone to a bar, and a girl had started talking to him as he was buying drinks. She was pretty, but she wasn’t you. And like a flashbulb, all of Santi’s previous partners flew through his mind and he realised that nothing had ever come out of them because they weren’t you.

They didn’t know how he liked his coffee, or why he had joined the military. They didn’t know the story behind his callsign, or what his favourite song was.

You did. What you weren’t there for, you asked about. You remembered. You made him feel important, like he mattered. In ways that he didn’t even really know existed.

You were the one that started him on decaf without telling him. That had been a conversation and a half. Before morning briefings, you’d started bringing him coffees. He hadn’t noticed much of a taste difference, and shamefully, had come to expect them.

Until, a month later, you weren’t there. A small trip home to visit your family, everyone knew you’d be back in a couple of days. Regardless, Santi had ordered what he’d thought was his usual coffee.

And found his anxiety rearing up again. It was subtle, making him more jumpy, less able to sleep, but it was there. He wasn’t sure what the cause was, definitely hadn’t linked it to the coffee, instead assuming that maybe he just missed you. Maybe because his anxiety hadn’t disappeared all the way, even with decaf. Maybe it was because it was your presence that helped him too.

He hadn’t even really noticed when the caffeine was gone, hadn’t noticed the absence of something wrong, only seeing the contrast when it returned. Maybe because it was gradual, the weaning off the caffeinated coffee, whereas the return, with his request of additional shot, had been too sharp for him.

You hadn’t noticed at first, assuming that Santi’s bear hug when he’d first seen you had just been because he missed you. But after lunch you pulled him to one side.

“Are you alright?” Your eyes are slightly wider with worry, and you’re chewing slightly on your bottom lip.

He hates that he’s the one to do that to you, and he tries to brush it off. “I’m fine.” That was his first mistake. His second was trying to push past you.

“Santiago!” He’s pulled up short, and there’s that tension, pulling at his shoulders, his eyebrows. “Tell me what’s wrong.” Your tone of voice hasn’t changed, but this time it’s a command.

Exhausted, hating himself, Santi drags his hands across his face. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I don’t...I don’t know.” He takes a breath, and it shudders through him. “I don’t know.” He sounds defeated, and he hopes you can’t hear it. “I just...I feel…” How does he feel? “Jittery.” Is what he finally settles on, but the word still feels wrong somehow.

You frown, looking him up and down like you’ve never seen him before. In fact, you’re silent for so long, Santi starts to be worried that you’re going to tell him to stop being so fucking ridiculous.

You don’t, but you ask questions.

Has he been sleeping? “Not really.”

Does he have something big coming up? “Just the usual.”

Has his daily routine changed at all? “No, I don’t think so. I get myself a coffee in the morning and the-”

You interrupt him with a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry.” And now it’s wrong, because now you’re looking at him like it’s your fault, when it definitely isn’t. “Santi I’m sorry. It’s your coffee.”

Santi frowns. His coffee? And you sound so apologetic, and he doesn’t understand why. “I switched you to decaf.” You can’t meet his eyes any more, gaze skittering to his shoulder with nerves. And you’re not shutting up. “I’m sorry, I should have told you, or asked if I could, I just... I knew you were getting nightmares, and decaf helped me so I thought it might help y-”

Santi cuts you off with a hug.

And now, the three of you sat in the booth, he hates himself for agreeing with Benny. He would like to know. He has a sneaking suspicion, odd little comments you’ve made throughout the years that when pieced together, paint a picture. A very vivid picture that he sometimes uses to torture himself, late at night in bed, imagining what you’d look like with your hands between your legs and wrapping a hand around his-

Santi shakes his head. Now is not the time. There’s never really a good time to fantasise about one of your best friends, but in public when they’re sitting next to you, is definitely one of the worst.

And why did he have to offer to take care of you? Did he think he was in some kind of cheesy porno? What if you hated him-

In the end, it’s you who breaks him out of his thoughts. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed Pope.” You push out with your foot, lightly kicking his thigh, unable to read his stony face.

Throughout all of this, Frankie has kept quiet, and now the conversation seems like it’ll be returning to safer ground, he rubs a hand over his face, lifting his hat slightly. “No.” Santi protests, although he says it too fast for it to be sincere. “I’m not embarrassed.”

“Good,” you reply, and Santi can see the moment a thought pops into your head that you can’t resist, he can see it in the way your eyes light up with mischief. “Out of all the boys, I figured you’d be the most likely to use toys.”

Frankie quickly slides out from his seat, muttering something about going to the toilet, his cheeks aflame, as Santi chokes a little on his beer. “Or maybe Will,” you muse, and Santi coughs again. “Shit, are you alright?” You ask, rocking forward to lean on your knee so you can rub Santi’s back for a second.

He concentrates on getting himself back under control, on not focusing how warm your hand is against his back. He takes deep breaths in an attempt to calm his heart down, praying that the room is dark enough that you won’t see him blush.  

Santi nods, his eyes watering a little, and you laugh, but it’s not unkind, not even when one of your thumbs wipes at his lower lash line, brushing away his tears with the pad. It’s so unexpectedly soft, another sharp contrast to this sticky, seedy bar they’re all in, where the booth seats are cracked and the most complicated drink they make is a rum and coke.

“Good,” you say, voice quiet, scooting back on the bench, your foot closer to his thigh this time, and Santi hates himself for wanting to follow you.

Instead, he pretends everyone else is still here, even as he watches Will whisper something into Benny’s ear as they stand, drinking next to the bar, with no clear intention of returning. Suddenly Benny punches Will’s upper arm, and Santi’s eyebrows twitch slightly in confusion. Benny looks ecstatic, and for what?

“I’ve used handcuffs,” he says casually, half of his mind taken up with Benny and Will acting like lunatics at the bar behind you. He’s wrenched back to you when you raise an eyebrow, and he’s reminded what it feels like to be the centre of your world.

Fuck, you’re sexy though.

***

Your heart beat speeds up, suddenly sounding loud in your chest. Your mind is screaming Danger! at you - but how can it be? This is Santiago. You would trust him with your life. You have.

I could take care of you, flashes through your mind again. Maybe-

“Yeah?” You ask, trying to act calm when there’s a steady thrumming under your skin. “And are you the tied up person, or do you do the tying?”

Santi scoffs, like he thinks the answer is obvious. Maybe it is.

“I do the tying.”

You smirk, dragging an exaggerated eye up and down his body. “Sure about that?”

He looks relaxed, like he can take up more space now Frankie has gone. One of his hands is on your calf, gently trailing up and down, slowly setting you on fire, and you don’t even think he realises he’s doing it. There’s something in his eyes that you don’t recognise, darker, although it seems familiar. That’s been happening more and more lately, especially when it’s just the two of you. You like it.

“You want to test me babygirl?”

You feel breathless. “Maybe I’d like to try.”

You’ve never spoken with Santi like this before. You flirt with him more than the other boys, but this is new. This feels...real, somehow. More dangerous. And he’s closer now, shifting, so your foot is over his lap, his hand wrapped around your ankle, on your bare skin and you’ve forgotten how to breathe. You watch his hand move on your leg and you feel like you could evaporate.  

“That’s not what good girls do.” Fuck, his voice.

“Good girls don’t do a lot of things I do.”

And you’re not sure what gives you the sudden confidence, but you lean forwards, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. It’s a horrible angle, your legs in the way, but you don’t care.

And then you’re retreating, opening your eyes again, suddenly unsure of what you’ve just done. Your mouth feels tingly, where you can still feel Santi against you. His grip has tightened on your leg, no longer moving.

And then his hand is tugging at you a little, and there’s a smile threatening to take over his face.

Come here.

You scoot up, so your left leg is fully over him, your right leg tangling with his under the table and you can smell him now, beer and - as weird as it sounds - like a man. It’s familiar. Nice. Breathless, you shoot him a little grin, suddenly unsure.

And then he’s kissing you again and it’s everything you ever dreamed of. His lips are soft, but firm, moving against your mouth, contrasting with the slight stubble growing on his face. His free hand moves to your waist and you let out a small sound.

You break apart after a second, both of you breathless. You’ve slung your arms around his neck, fingers idly playing with his chain, and you’re the first to speak.

“So do you use those handcuffs on anyone?”

Santi kisses you again, short and sweet, before he answers, his lips mumbling against yours. “Hmm, just on girls I really like.”

You kiss again, neither of you really wanting to stop. “Can I use them on you?” Santi asks, moving to kiss along your jaw, nipping at your earlobe. You feel surrounded by him, he’s all you care about, all you can feel.

Your eyes snap open, desire pooling in your belly. Is this really happening? “Yes.”

“Good.” Santi’s voice is still low in your ear, before he moves down your neck, soft lips a stark contrast to his stubble catching on your skin. “How do you feel about a date, too?”

“Yeah?” You lean back slightly so you can see his face. He’s beautiful in this light, face half hidden in the shadows, eyes dark.

His lips are brushing yours again.

“Yeah. I’ll pick you up, take you somewhere nice, do it properly.”

“Good,” you mumble against him, “that sounds really good.” Your fingers are still playing with his chain, lightly brushing against the scar on his neck. “Shall we go?”

Before you know it, the two of you are sitting in a cab, having said a quick goodbye to the others, Will asking if it was safe for them to sit back in the booth. You’d responded with the finger, not bothering with a proper reply.

Santi leans over to you, whispering into your ear. “Can I really tie you up?”

You clench your thighs together, closing your eyes in an effort not to physically respond. The pause is enough for Santi to hesitate, hand shyly holding yours. “It’s ok, if you don’t want to, that’s fine, it was just a-”

You stop him with a kiss, moving your hand so you can squeeze him in reassurance. When you answer, it’s a mumble against his mouth so the driver doesn’t hear. “Break out the handcuffs, and we’ll see if you’re as tough as you act, big boy.”

Santi groans when you lean away from him.

Getting inside Santi’s flat is a feat in itself, and you’re honestly a little proud of the restraint both of you showed by not fucking in the stairwell, stopping every couple of meters to kiss each other senseless, hips clumsily knocking together as you rile each other up.

You’ve been inside his flat before, so when Santi kicks the door closed, walking you backwards into his bedroom, kissing you all the while, you don’t protest. It’s so nice to finally kiss Santi like you’ve wanted to for a while now, so nice to feel his hands on your waist, pushing you backwards while his hips press into yours, steady now, purposeful.

His fingers are playing with the waist of your trousers, and you help him, shimmying your jeans off, pushing them down your thighs and letting them fall to the floor. Then he surprises you, dropping to his knees in front of you, pulling your knickers down your legs.

Looking down, you feel dizzy from the rush of power this brings you. Santi looks like he’s about to worship you, his face close to your pussy. His hands are on your waist and he pushes at you, encouraging you to step back.

When you don’t he tips his head back, exposing his neck to you. “Step back.” His voice is dangerous and you can feel more wetness gathering between your legs. You grin down at him, still not moving.

In response Santi nips at your thigh, grinning when you gasp, hands flying to his hair. He pushes at you again, and this time you let him, stepping back until you hit his bed, sitting down.

Santi presses his hand against your stomach, and you allow yourself to be pushed back, falling back onto your elbows so you can watch him. He presses his nose to your mound and you squirm, impatient, as Santi spreads your knees so he can fit between your legs.

You watch him press his nose to your pussy, burying his nose in you, feeling yourself grow wetter. “You taste so good,” he groans, “Sweetest pussy I’ve tasted.” As he begins to explore you with his tongue, your hips lift off the bed with a groan and it takes you a second to recognise your own voice, broken with need. Santi’s arm reaches out, pressing you down as he explores your folds. Stubble is scratching your thighs, a pleasantly rough feeling compared to the soft wetness, the pliability of Santi’s tongue. Your clit is the first thing he concentrates on, his tongue practically lapping at you, and it all feels so good.

One hand is desperately fisting the sheets to the side of you as you try to hold on to reality, the other knotted in Santi’s short curls, nails scraping ever so slightly along his scalp even as he lifts you higher and higher. Broken pleas of his name fall from your lips when he inserts two fingers into you, gently pumping in and out, with a strangely satisfying squelch under your cries.

Your orgasm creeps up on you, slow and unsuspecting. One second your chest is heaving, breaths short and shallow, the next you’ve tensed up as you fall apart under Santi.

He keeps kissing you, gently pressing his lips over your thighs, hips, stomach as you stare at his ceiling, willing rational thought to return to you. He’s murmuring praises into your skin, telling you how good you are for him, what a good job you’ve done, how pretty you look when you come, how he wants to make you do it again, and all the while you float somewhere above your body, hardly daring to believe this is real. Santi keeps kissing you, any skin he can get his mouth on, desperate to keep tasting you. Gradually he moves up your body, even as you lie there, panting, letting him push your top up, bunching under your arms and around your neck.

Your hands fly to his hair when he bites the soft skin of your breast peeking out from your bra, and you arch your back towards him slightly, letting out a small whine. You can feel his smirk against you, so you wrap your legs around his waist, canting your hips up, grinding against where you can feel him, hard and aching in his jeans.

Now it’s your turn to smirk, slow and lazy when Santi lets out a low growl in response. He tips his head up so he can look at you, his eyes soft as he smiles at you. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

And then his body weight is gone and he’s standing next to the bed, taking his top off and it’s not the first time you’ve seen him shirtless, of course it isn’t, but it’s the first time you’ve seen him and been allowed to look, and Santi’s all shadows and soft muscle, pale scars highlighted on his skin.

You sit up, and it takes you a second to fight your way out of your top, quickly sliding the straps of your bra off, and dropping your clothes to the side of the bed as you watch Santi cross his room, and fish out a pair of handcuffs from a box with a couple of other objects inside, as well as what you’re pretty sure looks like a strap-on. And maybe it’s because his ass is currently in your eye-line, maybe it’s the surprise, but the image of you wearing it, teasing Santi with your dick while he waits on all fours on his bed, begging for you to touch him, suddenly pops into your head, and you have to work to hold back a moan at the mental image. Oh my god.

When Santi turns back to you, he’s opened the cuffs. “Are you familiar with the traffic light system?”

You suddenly feel nervous, your mouth dry, and you don’t know why, this is Santi. He’s made it clear that you don’t have to do this, and anyway you want to. “Green is good, orange is slow down, red is stop,” you recite easily, and Santi nods in satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he says and his words hit deep in your stomach, unfurling something you hadn’t known existed. “You say something and I’ll untie you.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning back on your hands, eyeing up the way Santi’s jeans are still on, now hanging low on his hips, exposing a small trail of hair down from his bellybutton. “What if I don’t want you to untie me?” You ask.

You can see how his eyes darken, but he doesn’t move. “Tell me you understand,” he says, voice stern and you shiver.

“I understand,” you parrot. Santi nods, pleased at you doing as he says, and steps out of his jeans, pulling his boxers off at the same time, releasing his cock. He’s hard, curving up towards his stomach and leaking pre-cum.

Almost on instinct, you lean forwards to lick it off, and Santi lets out a groan of satisfaction at the sensation of your mouth just wrapping around his head, your hands on his thighs. Before you can take him any further, he’s stepping back, shaking his head.

“Lie back,” he instructs, and you obey. Santi kneels next to you, tugging your wrists up, above your head, looping the handcuffs through his headboard and clicking them on around you. You give them an experimental tug, biting back a moan when they hold fast. “Colour?” Santi asks, and you grin up at him.

“Green.” Your voice already sounds broken. “Santi, please.”

Santi just kneels back, looking at you with those hungry eyes. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes out, hands running up and down your body, ignoring how you squirm as best you can under him.

“Oh yeah?” You ask. “Why don’t you come down here then, instead of just watching me?” Santi’s hands reach your breasts, squeezing and gently massaging and you arch your back towards him.

“You’re unhappy with my hands?” Santi returns, and stops touching you. You can’t help it, letting out a whine and straining to move your arms towards him, before remembering you can’t, your attempted movement jangling the chain a little.

“No, Santi,” you’re desperate for him to touch you again, especially now you can’t touch him,“Santi please, touch me again, touch me more.” Begging has never come so easily to you. And then Santi’s moving between your legs, gripping your hips and thrusting up, but not into you, just along your folds. You moan, shifting as best as you can while Santi coats himself with your slick, the head of his cock just pushing your clit, teasing you and riling you up further.

You suddenly really want to touch him, to rake your hands through his hair, to scratch your nails down his back, to be able to suck a purple hickey into his skin. You let your head fall back to the bed, pushing your hips towards him, desperate for more, desperate for him.

It’s only when you open your mouth in a desperate plea, a whine of his name, “Santi, Santi please,” that he begins to push into you.

Your mouth falls open in silent pleasure, just as Santi begins to talk. “Fuck, baby.” The stretch of him is delicious. “I wanted this for so long.” Now fully seated in you, he rests on his forearms, kissing you softly, first on the forehead, then on your lips. “Colour?” he asks softly.

You nearly cry from how sweet it is, how sweet he is, before responding, a mumble against his lips. “Green.” You feel full, like this is how you’re supposed to feel all the time, this is your base state, and you’re going to spend the rest of your life trying to achieve this specific feeling.

“Good girl,” Santi murmurs and you keen at the praise, feeling insatiable, wanting more, clenching around him. He grins, registering your response. “You liked that? You like being told what a good job you’re doing, how good you feel around me..” he breaks off with a gasp, and your eyes close as Santi begins to move in time with his words, long, slow thrusts as he begins to put you together again, building you up, further and further, his thrusts speeding up gradually, the sound of his dick sliding into your wetness, and the slap of skin-on-skin loud in his room, mixing with your moans.

You lift your legs up, wrapping them around his waist, hooking one of your feet around Santi’s butt. They don’t stay there for long, one of Santi’s arms pushing one leg up your body, hand under your knee as he splits you open. The new angle hits something deeper in you, and you gasp, unable to move and at the mercy of Santiago.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, coming out of nowhere, your lower body suddenly clenching around Santi, arms straining against the handcuffs, as you try in vain to touch him. You tumble through it, muscles spasming as you fall under him. He keeps moving into you as you shudder below him, pulling you through with murmured praise and encouragement as another broken cry leaves your throat.

His thrusts start to get sloppier as he goes faster, losing his rhythm slightly and you can tell he’s near his end. As best you can, you start moving your own hips, grinding up to meet him, words of encouragement slipping past your lips. “Santi, you feel so good, are you gonna fill me up?” You coo, pouting a little, tugging your wrists a little for emphasis. “Please Santi, I want to feel you, come in me, please-”

You stop when Santi snaps his hips once more, with a groan of finality and you can feel his cum inside of you as he holds himself there, his cock pulsing within you. He presses a couple more gentle kisses to your neck before sliding out, and you hiss slightly at the pull on your sensitive folds of your pussy.

He leaves for a second, returning with a key and gently releasing your wrists. “Good girl,” he murmurs, massaging your skin. “You did so good for me.”

He helps you sit up, kissing your cheek before leaving again. This time when he returns, he has a wet rag, and a glass of water, which you take a sip from, not having realised how thirsty you were. He gently dabs the rag on the inside of your thighs first, and the two of you watch in slightly morbid fascination as Santi’s cum leaks out of you onto the rag.

“That’s kinda hot,” you comment idly, wondering if Santi fucked all sense of you.

He only laughs, wiping the mess away and cuddling up next to you. “Do you want me to do it again?” he asks as you lean into his arms, his hands wrapping around your wrists to rub circles into your skin.

“Yes,” you answer, probably too quickly but beyond caring.

“Good.”

There’s a pause, and you can tell Santi wants to ask you something, so you twist in his arms, kissing along his shoulder. The act feels small, and innocent somehow, despite your states of undress, as you try to reassure him.

“You were right,” you murmur near his ear, “Stranger was where I was going wrong.”

It takes him a second to piece your reference together, but then he grins, and it’s like he hung the sun in the sky. “Yeah? I took care of you?”

You kiss him again, this time on the lips, biting back your own identical grin. “Yeah.”

***

Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments mean the world to me 🥰🥰🥰

Tags: @fantasticcopeaglepasta​

[nctworststuff]

2 Hearts 1 love; Chapter 1: Beginning

jPairing: Taeyong x fem!reader ft bestfriend!Yuta

Sub-genre: Angst, crack, College au

Sub-Warning: Breakup, cursing, doubt about love, mention of kill, mention of gun and knife, featuring of Yuta, coffe, cringe (?)

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Words count: 1.4k

Summary: Already written in the paper that y/n and Taeyong are destined to be together. But there must be challenges and storylines that they have to go through

Sub-summary: The very beginning story that tell you about how you meet each other

Velvet say: This is an event for The TaeTae Day! I hope you guys love it! Sorry for any mistake!

Tagging: @supermwritersnet @jaehyunstories (send an inbox if you want to be added)

Masterlist of this series | Next

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"We breakup"

"If its all you want" Your voice are calm but anyways you slammed the table and stand up, let your untouched cup of coffe on the table spilled.

Your (ex) boyfriend shook that you not even show him any expression. You just act professional and your face just calm. Its because you know he cheated on you for a long time ago. You just pretend to blind your eyes with those pain. You tired of this.

"Y/n, please dont made any mess-"

"No one care about the messy I made. And you said you cheat on me right? Okay. Also yeah, have fun with your new girl" you said before shut the door, not forget to shove your shoulder with his.

He just stay still at his place, not even move. He pissed off a bit of what you said

”Such a rude lady”

You are tired of this. This is a... second time you're in this situation? But The fact that your ex cheating on you not hit you at all. You get used with it. Why you have to cry?

Plus it's not essential at all. You know he is not a right person for you from the beginning of your relationship. Okay, there's a scar a in your heart but it doesn't effecting you life at all

After the a few days you breakup with your ex, you just scroll the social media and do a thing that just wasting your time. You just want to spend your time with real and only y/l/n y/n. Thanks to your ex, because of him, you feel really doubt about love.

In the future, if you have a grandchild, you can imagine it about them asking you a love thing like "How grandma fall in love for the first?" Or "Who is grandma's first love" and something that related about the topic. Of course you would lying about the 'first love' question.

Because you dont want to tell a hurt thing behind a happier one. Let just blind them with those thing, so they know that love is somehow is a good thing but actually they finally know what is artifical love and true love when they go through it. And you would do the same thing with your future child

You shook your head

Okay maybe this is too FAR and this is too early to think

Until you get a call from someone,

"Hello" the familiar voice speak

"Hi Yuta. Whatsup?"

"Meet me, at usual place at 2.00"

”Sure”

"Why you suddenly decide to meet me? Usually you would busy on the weekdays like this" you stirring a coffe you received from a waiter at usual place. Usually, you hang out with him at here when holiday or when he want to discuss about assignment

"I already complete an assignment early which professor had give us plus I dont know what to do today. So I decide to hangout with you” he take a sip of hot espresso

"Nothing to talk about?" he ask you like he know that you're hiding something. You gulped

"What?" You act like nothing happened

"Spill the tea“ oh, he really know about it

"Well, yeah I just spend my time with my pho-“

"No. I was talking about you and him" he cut you off.

"You broke up with him right?" How he know about that? He doesn't supposed to know this

"How you know about that?"

"You forgot he is my friend" he replied

"Gee. Friend? I didn't know you are friend with him"

"Not really friend. Just my classmate"

"Im regret to date with him" you rolled your eyes. How you feel stupid at yourself for fall easily at the very beginning and you got nothing at the end.

"Thats why its called regret, y/n" He is right. Regret is a dissapointed over something that already past. And you date with your ex is the thing of a past.

"Dont talk about him. Im tired with that. I should kill him" If you have a knife or any gun in your hand, you just already kill him when you saw he cheated on you

”Unfortunately, its a crime”

”Yeah, I know”

"Dont worry. Maybe there is someone out there who are truly right for you" yeah, maybe.

"Who would it be?"

"Someone. Someone that is not me. Cuz Im not deserve you" yuta play with his finger

"Stop talking about love. Love is too early for me"

”But we are getting older, y/n" you know day by day you are getting older but if you still not believe with love you can get into the trouble

”I feel doubt about love" there is it. The feeling of doubt always running through your head

”Trust me, love is exist”

”I know but somehow its like fake for me”

”How about that red haired guy?”

”Who?”

”You dont know? He is a student at our college and also my classmate. He is quite attractive though but he rarely talk with peoples”

”I see. I dont know about him but why you suddenly talk about him?" Red haired guy? You love red. Sound interesting but you are not sure with that

"Just said if you are interested”

”Sorry but Im not that type to fall easily”

”Fine. But think twice when you meet him one day”

You keep thinking what Yuta said a few hours ago

"But think twice when you meet him one day"

It keep repeated in your mind.

You drink you strawberry milkshake with a straw while thinking back about it. Was he is really that attractive? Red hair sounds good to be honest.

You walking to the park and take a fresh air. Woah, how long you didn't do this thing?

While holding your drinks, you slowly walks to the brown wooded bench. You sit on it and enjoying the view of the park. You are too careless and didn't realize that you spilled someone drinks. When you finally notice it, you panicked and dont know how to deal with it

"What the fuck this cup of coffe doing at this bench?" You said at yourself. Who puts a cup full of coffe and leaves it alone? Is it funny and weird at the same time?

"WHAT THE- WHAT DID YOU DO!" You flinch when you hear the man wearing a black tshirt shout at you. He walking towards you. His face is red and thats mean he are very angry right now.

"What you do with my coffe?" oh no you are in the big trouble right now. There is a 7 billion peoles in this universe but why always you get into the problem?

"Im sorry! I didnt mean it! And who the fuck put their own things and leave it alones!" You raised your voice and rolled your eyes. Anyways, you have to face it

”Oh god! I leave it alone because I have to buy something. Cant you beware of something! I waited for this coffe a long time ago” tsk, how funny, you thought.

“I didnt notice it when I sit at here! Dont just blame on me”

"Did you use your eyes or your knees? Watch carefully! You didnt know how much I put effort on it" he rolled his eyes. His face was familiar for you

"Come on, its just a cup of coffe"

"if so, replace me with the same coffe with the coffe you spilled” he look at you with a daring eyes

”Fine. Its not a big problem at all”

“Here is your coffe, Ma’am” the barista said and handed it to to you

”Thanks. How much?”

”25 dolla (usd)” you cursed silently. How expensive. You can feel the guy’s smirking at your back as you took out your money

”Thank you, Ma’am. Hope you can come again”

The barista flashed a smile to you and you smiled back. You walk out from the coffe shop. You rolled your eyes when you meet your eyes with the guy. You handed the coffe to him. He just take it and walk away. That make you clench your fist and your jaw

”Can you at least say thank you?”

”No. How to say thank you?”

“Such a ungrateful man” you just spend your money just for his coffe and now he act like nothing happened

”Whatever. Meet you tomorrow“ he walk away and didnt even turn back to look at you. His action made you let a long sigh and something popped in your mind

What does he mean by meet me tomorrow? and his face somehow look familiar

Black tshirt

Attractive eyes

Red hair

Oh shit, he is the guy that Yuta talked about

-©Nctworststuff

[lunaastoir]

how i think a meeting between childe and kaeya would go down

just some wannabe pirate and war criminal brain rot!!! this idea has been stuck in my mind for WEEKS and i just needed to get it down so i could breathe thanks aifjskfj 

also sorry if someone has already done this!! i did not check the tags or anything to see if a similar idea was posted but here’s just my take on it!! weewoo had to throw out a disclaimer just in case 

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

so the only way i could ever truly imagine them meeting is if you’re hanging out w one of them and suddenly woAH HEY CHILDE FANCY SEEING YOU HERE???

like i don’t see them meeting on their own unless kaeya a) travels to snezhnaya/visits liyue for some reason or b) childe comes to mondstadt on fatui business

but anYWAYS- i digress,,, let’s say a chance meeting happened between the two (pls mihoyo make this happen i am BEGGING) 

so you’re just walking around mondstadt after completing your commissions w paimon yapping abt trying out the new dish at good hunter (i wonder if it’s called emergency food)

you run into kaeya as you’re making your way over to said restaurant  

pirate boy was patrolling since he’s a knight and even tho i clown him out of love he does take his job very seriously 

so you bump into him and the smooth mf says smthg like 

“fancy meeting you here, it’s almost like we’re destined ;)” 

pls smack him thanks <3 

you roll your eyes and you can practically fEEL paimon’s glare 

so y’all get caught up in conversation and just end up walking around town (w promises to paimon that you will treat her to some good food later) 

kaeya’s retelling something that happened earlier in the day w klee i had to include her i love her sm pls 

and then you just hear a 

“huh if it isn’t mondstadt’s honorary knight” 

dEAR GOD you would know that voice anywhere- JDSJFS 

so many questions??? are running through your head??? as you turn around???? 

first and foremost being ayO childe what are you doing here???

his hand is held up in a wave and he has his trademark soft smirk playing on his lips pls im gonna wring his pretty little neck lovingly

he makes his way over to you and you guys just kinda stare at each other for a good second 

paimon breaks the silence w her scream of “chILDE???” 

that snaps you out of it and you give him a questioning look while waving back (very delayed might i add) 

“it’s good to see you too paimon” he laughs

he briefly explains that he’s here on fatui business and relax he’s not here to cause any trouble yet

this is basically when kaeya cuts in 

knowing the both of them they were definitely sizing each other up when pleasantries were exchanged

also kaeya (being the cavalry captain) is DEFINITELY aware that childe is in mondstadt especially since he’s a harbinger - it’s not like he can be quiet abt it 💀

assuming that they haven’t had a chance to meet tho since i mini headcanon that jean would probably have been the one to escort him and his underlings to the goth grand hotel, there would just be some intense eye contact

both men are v prone to putting up a friendly demeanor while having the ability to practically slice you apart w sweet threats and razor sharp looks 

kaeya would take the initiative and say smthg like

“i dont believe we’ve met - i’m kaeya of the knights of favonius” 

childe would shake his hand and out of propriety introduce himself too 

now here’s where things could get a touch complicated 

as fatui harbinger to cavalry captain, obviously there’s some animosity (hidden ofc under sweet words of deceit and sugar coated phrases of diplomacy) 

however, as just kaeya and childe, i think these two would hit it off pretty quickly LMFAO 

they remind me a lot of oikawa and atsumu from haikyuu if you’ve ever watched it 🕴 same exact vibes 

there would be the formalities in the beginning before childe’s playful nature would come through 

kaeya seeing that you two knew each other and were quite amicable ahem even if he did try to kill us would join in w his own smooth nature 

expect lots of cringe worthy moments and just jokes™

childe would probs say something like 

“i’ve heard mondstadt is famous for it’s wine, i would like to try some and see just how good it really is” and BOOM it’s over for you

you thought they needed you to keep it amicable???

naH now you’re just third wheeling bestie💀

100% inseparable and now drinking buddies at the end of the night 

their natures just FIT like you thought dealing w them alone was bad??? BYE you’re in for a treat then 

enDLESS TEASING!!! it!! will!! not!! stop!!! 

they just team up to make sure you’re either flustered or ready to wring their gorgeous necks 

they would probs end up being spar buddies too 

childe would casually bring up the fact that he likes to fight and would maybe p o s s i b l y like to spar especially w someone in the famed knights of favonius 

kaeya would agree and BOP BOP sparring buddies 

but in conclusion!!! to this very unnecessarily long post!! kaeya and childe would meet as a result of you, they would hit it off bc c’mon they’re so similar it hurts and they’re not following you anymore now you’re following them <3 

a lil bonus scenario bc writing this has been sm fun:

“you’re such a lightweight” kaeya laughed out while his new friend was miserably collapsed on the bar stool next to him. childe looked up from where his head was tucked into his arms and raised an eyebrow. “is that a challenge captain?” he huffed out, his usually clear ocean blue eyes now dilated with the effects of the wine. “you shouldn’t have ordered hardcore alcohol as your first sample of mondstadt wine. that’s a rookie mistake” kaeya remarked while amusedly staring at his companion’s deconstructed state. “yeah well, honestly i think i can still take a couple more drinks. probably more than you anyway” childe retorted. his flushed cheeks however, told another tale altogether. kaeya smirked, a competitor huh? “i wouldn’t expect anything less from a fatui harbinger” were his words and with that, two more drinks were waved over by the cavalry captain.  

needless to say, an hour later, two extremely drunk, flushed men stumbled out of angel’s share, all the while giggling about gloves of all things. it’s safe to assume that they were both kicked out, if the ten drinks they had ordered were of any significance. as they help each other up while making their way onto the streets of mondstadt, they leave behind a bill fit for a feast, and a night that they will certainly remember (especially due to the nasty hangovers they will inevitably wake up to the following morning). 

[thiswasinevitableid]

For mermay, could you do 11 for sternclay? sfw please :) I love your prompt fills!

Thank you so much! Here you go. The prompt was “royalty” and I based Barclay on a basking shark and Joseph on a mimic octopus.

For the last two weeks, Joseph has been hearing what a difficult assignment he’s taken, and how most bodyguards wouldn’t take it even with the handsome pay. That the princes of Sylvain are impossible to guard, that they’ve gone through more security staff than sharks go through teeth (this part he knows to be true from the records he’s found). 

Two days in, he’s starting to wonder if there’s been some sort of mistake. 

Now, had he received Duck’s assignment, he’d understand the warnings. Prince Indrid, seer to the court of Sylvain, has already shown himself to be a strange mixture of aloof, demanding, and spoiled.

But Prince Barclay?

When Joseph was shown into his chambers and introduced, the instant the servants left Barclay swam over to him with a nervous smile. He asked if there was anything he could get him, was he hungry, would he like something to drink? Joseph accepted that last offer, curious to see how the prince would react if called upon to perform hospitality rather than simply offer it. 

What happened was Barclay swam into an anteroom and came back with a carved coral platter with mother of pearl pitcher and goblets, pouring Joseph’s first before taking a glass for himself. 

That set the tone for his behavior, and it hasn’t changed in the week since he’s arrived. The prince, charcoal tailed and a little shy, seems to view Joseph as just another mer to talk to. When in the castle, Barclay will ask him his thoughts on the historical and political scrolls his tutors assign him as part of his preparation to one day inherit the kingdom. Out in public, Joseph shifts into the background, watches everything with care while the prince swims behind his parents or, more often, their advisors. 

“Do you think there was some kind of misunderstanding with his previous guard?” Joseph asks Duck over a late night dinner in the hall, which allows them to keep their eyes on their charges rooms. 

“I mean, he seems like a nice enough fella to me. But nice fellas can still be sneaky; from what Ned told me, Barclay’s an escape artist. Think he might be lurin you into a false sense of security.”

“And I think trusting what Ned Chicane tells you is a terrible way to gather intel.”

Movement from Indrid’s room and Duck stiffens, listening, then relaxes.

“Shouldn’t you go check on that?”

“Nah, he’s just pacin, does that a lot, especially at night.”

“He really should get some sleep.”

Duck shrugs, “He should. But treatin him like a child is the wrong way to go. He knows he oughta rest, my remindin him will just annoy him. Besides,” Duck raises an eyebrow, “maybe you better be more focused on your prince.”

“He turned in an hour ago.”

“You sure?”

Something in Duck’s voice sends worry bubbling through his guts, “I’ll check now, just to be positive.”

The bed is empty, the prince nowhere to be found. 

“Shit!” He darts back into the dim hallway, “he’s gone, I’ve got to find him and fast. How, how in name of the deep did you know?”

“Call it a hunch. Indrid likes to play the ‘I know somethin you don’t’ game, but if I let ‘im play it long enough, he let’s somethin important slip out.”

“Shit” Joseph says again, “I, if anyone asks-” 

“I’ll say I ain’t seen you or Barclay since dinner. Ain’t a lie.” Duck winks and Joseph flashes him a quick smile before swimming back into the prince’s rooms. There’s only one door and no secret passageways, (he checked for those himself), so the windows it is. His tentacles can sense Barclay’s trail, faint but unmistakable, and he follows it until he’s almost at the shore. Then it’s gone. 

He spends the next three hours feverishly tracing and retracing his path and keeping his panic to a minimum. When he spies a figure swimming towards him, he backs against a rock, planning to hide until they pass. 

This plan changes the instant he registers who it is. 

“Gaahfuck” Barclay catches his yell quickly and muffles it down to a hiss, “what the hell Joseph, you scared me.”

“And you just made me spend three hours swimming around and wondering if my charge had been abducted. I’d say that makes us even.”

“Didn’t make you do anything.” Barclay grumbles as Joseph turns them towards the palace. 

He sighs, “No, I guess technically you didn’t. But I take my job very, very seriously. If this past week hasn’t demonstrated that sufficiently, maybe tonight has. When you disappear into the night, it’s my duty to follow.” He catches brown eyes studying him warily and adds, “I’m not doing it to be punitive or steal your freedom, or even because their majesties told me to; I’m doing it because you’re under my protection.”

The prince nods but says nothing else until they return to his rooms. 

“Joseph? I’m uh, I’m sorry. For scaring you. You got farther than anyone else did, none of them ever tracked me that well, if they noticed I was gone at all. I figured you wouldn’t notice, so you wouldn’t worry. So, yeah. I’m sorry.” 

Joseph knows a false apology when he hears it, and this is as far from one as a desert is from the deep sea. 

“Apology accepted, my prince. But Barclay” he levels the other mer with a stern gaze, tries not to notice his cheeks tinging pink the longer he holds it, “don’t do it again.”

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

“Are you certain we cannot trade?” Indrid’s fin ripples with agitation as he draws. 

“Nope, Joseph is a good bodyguard.”

“And your crush on him is not governing your answer in the slightest?” Indrid smirks but doesn’t look up. 

“No idea what you’re talking about. Besides, Duck seems nice.” Barclay stretches his other arm, then pauses, “wait, fuck, is he hurting you or something?”

“No. On the contrary, he is annoyingly concerned with my wellbeing.”

“That’s his job.”

“It was the job of all his predecessors as well, but all it took was ordering them around or demanding things in the right tone before they were letting me do as I pleased. I wanted to go to that bar on the edge of town last night and do you know what he did? He told me no, because word had gotten around that it was a spot I frequented and someone there might try to take me hostage.”

“...And?”

“And, and then when I tried to leave anyway he blocked the door with that blasted muscular tail and obnoxiously charming face and wouldn’t move! Then he told me he would if I looked at the future told him we’d both be safe if we went. It turns out he was right, the chances of violence were high.”

“I mean, you don’t like places that loud anyway-”

“It’s the principle of the thing.” Indrid sighs, “so we stayed in and I made him read to me as penance but he was very good at it and I fell asleep within a half hour.”

Barclay is trying hard not to laugh, only because he knows how hard it is for his brother to admit such things. And because, given what else he knows of Duck, the mer might be exactly what his brother needs. If nothing else, Barclay hopes Duck might be observant enough to notice what’s there, not just what his brother tries to toss up like so much sand in hopes of obscuring the truth. 

Indrid goes back to his drawings. Barclay can remember the first time their ministers caught Indrid capturing the futures this way and scolded him, saying the futures to look at were only those the court asked him to, nothing else. Indrid had explained, in a number of different ways, that this was how he could keep the images from overwhelming him, but still they insisted he stop. It wasn’t until he drew on his status and threw a near fit that they relented. That was a lesson he never forgot. 

Barclay hopes todays lessons will be more enjoyable. One of the jobs of a royal bodyguard is to train the princes in self-defense. When Joseph and Duck enter the gym through kelp curtains, Barclay can’t help but be mesmerized by the poise with which his tentacles move across the ground. 

“Good morning, your highness. And to you as well, your highness.” Joseph bows to them each in turn, “Barclay, today you and I will be working with swords while Duck and Prince Indrid work on hand to hand combat.”

“What?” Indrid looks up, red eyes wide, “Barclay is the one who trains hand to hand, not me.”

“Which is exactly why we gotta mix things up. You need all the modes of defense you can get. Unless of course you’re, uh, afraid you can’t take me.” Duck raises an eyebrow at Indrid. 

His brother says nothing, simply grabs his bodyguard and pulls him towards the designated room, calling, “I’ll see you after lunch!”

He and Joseph trade an amused look, then swim to the shelf of blunted training weapons. They’re still bone or sharks tooth, but they’ve been sanded down so no one can get hurt. 

“Now, you mentioned you’ve done some sword work, so am I right that you know how to hold this safely?”

“Yep.” Barclay takes the sword, swimming over to one of the Xs on the floor. 

“Good. To keep things fair for now, I won’t use my tentacles for anything other than swimming.” Joseph takes his position on the opposite X and lifts his sword, “ready?”

Barclay nods and then immediately parries as Joseph lunges with a burst of speed. He recovers quickly, and they begin an elegant back and forth, bubbles and stray sand swirling through the air as they spin and dodge around one another. Joseph keeps up a steady stream of commentary, either positive or instructive, and Barclay is having a hard time ignoring the the thrill he gets every time Joseph pulls off a graceful maneuver. 

When they break, both a little winded, there’s a crash from the next room. 

“Fuck! You okay, your highness?” Duck sounds concerned. 

“Yes, now try that again, I am going to get this right.” 

Joseph glances at him, “Should we-”

“Nah. He kinda sounds like he’s enjoying himself.”

The other mer studies him, “Are you?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Then I’m going to ask you to stop holding back. I can’t train you effectively if I don’t know what your skill level actually is.”

He’s learned not to insist Joseph is mis-observing things when he’s actually observing them perfectly; the other mer is too sharp for that. 

“I...I just don’t want to hurt you.”

Joseph swims close, sets a hand on his shoulder, “For starters, these are fake swords, and I’m not a bad fighter. But more than that, I suspect there’s a very impressive swordsman under those scales.”

They take their positions and when Joseph gives the signal Barclay attacks with all the force his tail can muster. Joseph dodges easily but makes an approving noise. Then he grins, the expression downright rakish, and attacks with such precision and speed that Barclay barely manages to counter him. 

His focus narrows down to the fight, to watching Joseph’s body for every sign of movement, every twitch of muscle and tentacle. Finally, he sees his opening and drives the other mer backwards until he’s trapped, back to the rocky grey wall. 

“Well” Barclay pants, images of finishing the fight with a kiss banging about his mind, “what do you think of that, Joseph?”

Two tentacles rise, plucking both swords from their fighters hands as his bodyguard murmurs, “I’m impressed.”

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

It’s been a month and a half since Barclay slipped out of his room, and while he’s tried twice more, Joseph has been ready each time. Tonight, however, he’s opting for a new strategy.

He bids the prince goodnight, well aware he’ll swim out the window around moonrise. Then he waits just across from the window, skin and tentacles camouflaged with the rocks. Right on time, Barclay emerges, swimming quickly and quietly towards the shore. Joseph follows at a safe distance, forces himself to focus on the prince’s likely path rather than on how handsome he looks in the moonlight. 

When they reach the shallows Barclay pauses, slips a woven bracelet onto his wrist, and kicks towards the surface. 

Who in the name of the wide ocean gave him legs?

Joseph’s physiology allows him to crawl across the tidepools, keeping his eyes on Barclay as the prince retrieves a set of clothes hidden behind a rock and walks into the small town of Kepler, turning towards a restaurant on the pier. 

Someone had to enchant that bracelet for him, has to know where he’s going while using it. And that someone has to be a mer he trusts. 

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

“Yes. I made him the bracelet. What of it?” Indrid says coolly. 

“Indrid, do you have any idea how dangerous that is?” Joseph throws his arms and several tentacles in the air. 

“Hold up” Duck turns to his prince, “Indrid, I’m guessin Barclay probably asked for a reason, right?”

“Indeed, but if I say what it was, you will reveal it to our parents and ministers and take it away from him.”

“I won’t. I promise. I, I just want to help.”

Indrid narrows his eyes. Then, remarkably, he turns to Duck and cocks his head. Duck nods. 

“Very well. And yes, I will grant you that favor you’re about to ask for…”

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

How do humans manage with these things? His tentacles tell him so much more than these useless feet do. 

Joseph makes his wobbly way into Kepler, following Barclay’s trail down the pier, the one he’s walked the last two weeks while Joseph intermittently clung to the nearby wooden supports or fencing to make sure his prince wasn’t in danger. 

Even with Indrid’s explanation, the room he enters is a surprise. Several counters with what he knows humans call “stoves” sitting on them, each manned by one or two people. 

“Hello there” An affable older man in a multi-colored shirt approaches him, “you here for the class?”

“Yes.”

“Great! Hmmm, since you’re new, better pair you with someone, just to be safe. Follow me.”

Joseph isn’t afraid of much. But when he sees who the man intends to pair him with, he almost jumps out the window and flees back to the sea.

“You’re in luck, gonna pair you with my best student. Barclay, this is…”

“Joseph”

“Joseph’s first class with us, so I’m handin him over to you. Make me proud.”

Barclay isn’t blinking, but he manages to say, “sure thing, Thacker.” 

The older man nods, pleased, and makes his way towards the kitchen set-up at the front of the room, greeting people as he goes. 

“What the fuck, Joseph?” Barclay keeps his voice low, “did Janelle give you legs just so you could come drag me out of class?”

“No, no not at all. Indrid did this.”

“What?”

Joseph takes a deep breath, “Barclay, I told you that first week that I’m here to protect you. The way I see it, I’ll do a much better job if I come with you to something that clearly matters to you, rather than force you to hide it from me. No one knows about this but Indrid and Duck.”

Barclay seems stunned, doesn’t say anything as Thacker opens the class and instructs them on how to make something called “marinara” to go on “pasta.” The prince stays silent until they’re working on the cookies the human is also having them make.

“Here, it’s easier to cut them out like this.” He sets his hand atop Joseph’s, pressing and shaking it so the dough comes away from the stone slab in the shape of a heart. 

“Thank you.”

Barclay smiles at him, and the kitchen grows hotter. 

When everything is done cooking, they sit on stools at their station, eating the fruits of their labor. Barclay is animatedly describing the pie they made last week, occasionally stopping to chat with some of the other students. He looks so happy, and Joseph decides he will not tell their majesties about this even if they torture him. Or fire him. 

As they walk back along the beach, Barclay explaining all the things he’s learned about cooking and how much he wishes they’d let him cook at the palace rather than insist it’s beneath his station, the prince takes his hand.

“Humans do this when they’re waling on the beach together. I think it’s to keep them from getting separated if they get hit by a wave.

Joseph is pretty sure that’s not the reason, but he’s not about to say so now. 

They dive back under the waves, removing their charms and swimming side by side in the dark water. Once they’re safely inside, Barclay turns to him, beaming, “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Even if I wasn’t invited?”

“Yeah. It, uh, it means a lot to me that you wanna learn about the stuff that matters to me. That you wanna know the real me.”

“Of course I do.”

Barclay swims dangerously close, “You, uh, do you wanna know another part?”

He nods. Barclay leans in and presses their lips together. Joseph manages to keep his hands himself, but his tentacles have other ideas, curling protectively around the prince’s tail and waist. The instant Barclay pulls back with the most adorable sigh in the sea, Joseph forces them to return to their normal position. 

The prince gives him a final, shy smile and whispers, “‘Night, Joseph. And thanks for everything.”

[illfoandillfie]

The Come Down

Pairing: 70s!Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

Summery: It's hard for Roger to unwind after the excitement of playing a gig. But you have a favourite way to help him.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), but also quite fluffy, rough sex, enough to leave marks but nothing overly kinky, some hair pulling, scratching, shower sex.

Words: 4226

A/N: This started life as a blurb about brushing Roger's hair - a thought I haven't been able to shake for at least a week - but gradually turned into a full on smut fest lmao. I guess Rog just has that effect on me...

Taglist: @laedymoon​ @dtfrogertaylor​ @vee-ndetta​ @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac​ @labessieisallama​ @deakyclicks​ @jennyggggrrr​ @drowseoftaylor​ @hannafuckingsucks​ @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming​ @queenmylovely​ @supersonicfreddie​ @taron-egrotten​ @johndeaconshands​ @borhapbois​ @stardust-galaxies​

It’s Pavlovian, the way you react to Roger’s playing. If he wasn’t so charming you’d curse him for it. How all you have to hear is him counting everyone into the first song of the night and already you’re thinking about later, about what happens when you get home. Most weeks are the same though you’d never call it a routine. That sounds too boring, too predictable and Roger is anything but boring and predictable. But there is a pattern forming. And it all starts with that fucking count. The way he twirls his drumstick as he settles himself to play. He’s wired from the beginning, from even before they get on stage. Bouncing on the balls of his feet as they get ready, endlessly joking and playfully teasing. So much so that your side hurts from laughing just a little bit. And that energy, that excitement, only grows as they play. Feeding off the noise of the smoke-filled bar and the way people cheer and his mates playing beside him. You watch him every show, close to the front though a little to the side of the stage. He can’t see you anyway and being out of the main crush of people makes it easier to get to the bar again if you want another drink. Not that you ever do. You’re too entranced by it all. The way the four boys perform, make it look so effortless, though you’ve heard the spats and hours of practice that prove it’s not. The way the crowd follows them and spurs them on. Girls with eyes glued to the fingers roaming over frets and plucking at strings. Voices slurred with alcohol or rough from yelling or husky from smoking, all mixed as they call out names of favourite songs and cheer no matter what gets played next. Your attention wanders back to Roger more than anyone else though. Hands rapidly flying from one drum to another, his whole body caught up in the movement, twirling his sticks between notes because he can and he wants everyone to know it. His head tipped back, flung forward, hair and eyes wild. You don’t quite understand how his hair doesn’t get in his way, doesn’t annoy him with the way it flicks around every time he moves. But it mustn't because he refuses to cut it whenever you make the suggestion.

By the time their set is drawing to a close you’re feeling pretty fired up yourself, high from second hand smoke and the bass drum vibrating through your bones and the way Roger’s glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, his shirt open, the necklace you gave him glinting as it catches what little light there is. The final notes ring out, overwhelmingly loud, and you know that’s your cue. Ducking under arms and squeezing between people as you push back to the bar to order the usual after gig round of drinks. The barman knows you by now, so you don’t have to say anything before he’s pulling out glasses, a mixture of shots and pints and a couple of cocktails thrown in for colour, and by the time the selection is laid out before you the boys have materialised at your side. Roger is quick to wrap his arm around your waist as you all down a few shots and then grab the rest of your drinks and head to a table. The lack of space between you and he doesn’t stop a couple of bold women from approaching, flirting with him as they congratulate the band on another great show. He thanks them, polite but uninterested in whatever they’re trying to offer, and pushes on with you tucked tightly to his side.

For a while you just hang out but Roger’s still completely amped. Half his beer is gone the first time he brings the glass to his lips and he fidgets in his seat, restless energy personified. He’d play a whole second set if he was asked. No one asks. Instead he crosses his legs, un-crosses them, slouches low, sits up, arm on the back of your chair then dropped to grab your hand then rubbing your knee then tapping the top of the table. His laugh is frequently heard cutting through the noisy conversations around you as he leans across the table, sits back, slides lower in the chair and then pops up straighter once more. Never still for long. It’s a relief when Brian suggests packing everything into the van. You help them wind up cords, carry amps out the back door. When everything’s packed away there’s more drinking and joking around. Roger’s hands wander a little further, unashamedly squeezing your arse or sliding up your thigh until you remind him where you are. The room feels ten times warmer than it did before and you wouldn’t have stopped him except your sat across from his best mates and something about the way he’s touching you makes you think he doesn’t have the cognitive awareness to recognise that. He’s just got too much adrenaline, too much energy he doesn’t know what to do with, fogging up his brain. He obviously has ideas though, the same ideas you’ve been trying to ignore since he first sat down at his kit. He leans towards your ear, asks if you’re ready to leave. You nod, say goodnight to the others. Roger tells them to stay out of mischief, voice a little louder than it needs to be. “Look who’s talking,” “They’ll be no mischief on my watch, I’ll look after him.” “Y/N you’re an enabler,” “As long as he’s not getting arrested,” “Oi, fuck off,” “Quick Y/N, get him home before he slags off the wrong person,” There’s laughter and a round of see you laters, a few nicknames the boys wouldn’t want their mothers to hear, before you exit the bar, Roger’s arm around you once more.

His voice is still loud on the drive home and he taps out a beat on the steering wheel, antsy, eager to continue the night unobserved by everyone else. Your ears are still ringing so you can only imagine what’s going on in his head – a play by play of the best parts of the set probably. A song he likes comes on the radio so he turns it up loud, winds his window down, grinning at you, letting the whole neighbourhood hear the whine of the guitars. “We should cover this one,” he half shouts, accelerating a little, the rhythm of his tapping fingers changing to match the music, “Fuck! We should cover it! Bri’d go feral for the chance to play it,” You agree though you aren’t sure he hears you. You’re lucky he hasn’t started air drumming along. It happened once before, his foot suddenly hitting the break as he put it down in time with the song’s beat. You’d only been going slow then so all you’d had to deal with was a honk from the car behind you. Roger apologised, promised to be more careful, and you laughed it off. It’s a bit of a wonder he hasn’t ever repeated the mistake with how into the music he gets, how absentmindedly he drives, especially after a show and a few drinks. Muscle memory and second nature. Maybe he shouldn’t be driving but you live close enough that it doesn’t even cross your mind to call a cab. The song fades out and is replaced by yours. The song that was playing in the second hand store you’d met at. Roger takes his eyes off the road to find yours, smiles, clearly thinking about that day. You’d been trying on a dress you’d found, modelling it for a friend to get her opinion, when Roger had complemented your look, suggested adding a fur coat to it. He offered his own but said he’d need your number so he could get it back. You’d laughed at the line but decided you could afford to reward his boldness and written your number on the back of his hand. The coat had kept you warm for the rest of the day and many since. You’re about to say something about the memory, ask Roger if he really thought the pickup line would work (judging by the look on his face when you’d pulled a pen from your bag and grabbed his hand, he hadn’t) but he’s already singing along, hand squeezing your thigh again as his attention shifts back to the road. He glances at you a few more times, encourages you to sing along by holding his closed fist in front of your face like it’s a microphone. He keeps singing as he pulls up in front of your apartment, turns off the engine, steps out of the car. You meet him at the edge of the driveway where he grabs your hand and twirls you around in a circle, both of you giggling. And then he’s heading inside, up the stairs, pulling you along with him.

Your heart is beating faster now, fully aware of what’s coming, like one of Roger’s drum solos playing out against your chest. Roger doesn’t disappoint. He opens the door with enough force to make it bounce off the wall behind it, helping it shut with a kick from his foot. His hands are well and truly occupied, resuming their path over your body, grabbing and squeezing. There’s a flurry of movement from his hands, like he isn’t sure where to start or rather like he’s eager to start everywhere all at once, before he focuses in on your shirt and getting it off of you. It hits the ground carelessly as you walk backwards, further into the apartment, but Roger’s fingers are already working at the fly of your jeans. He gets the button undone, gets distracted trying to kiss you without overbalancing. His hands slide over your stomach, your sides, down to grab your arse and pull you into him. It’s only then he remembers the zip on your pants and moves one hand back to pull it down. You start removing his clothes but you’re too slow for his liking. He has energy to burn and he wants to burn it right away. No stopping to savour the moment, no slowly working up to the big finale. No, he wants to be in you already. And it’s impossible to pretend you haven’t been thinking about exactly that since right back at the start of the evening. You kick your jeans across the floor as Roger tears his own clothes off. There’s enough time for half a breath before he spins you around to face the wall, pushes your back to make you bend at the waist. He doesn’t bother to remove your underwear at all. Fiddling with the clasp of your bra would be too time consuming and why bother pushing panties down when you can pull them to the side instead. He laughs as he realises just how damp the crotch of your knickers is. “Good. Don’t need to worry about fingers.” You gasp, tense up as he plunges into you. His grip on your hip is tight enough that the tips of his fingers have turned white, keeping you in place as he roughly fucks you. A small scratch appears in the wallpaper as you try to find a sturdy grip. An impossible task. You have to make do as best you can, relying on Roger to hold you in place. “Love how wet you get from watching us play,” “Just you, Rog,” you whimper as he uses you. He laughs, somehow grasps you even tighter, “Good. My needy little groupie.” He nips at your neck and you turn your head, lips opening with a whimper as he pushes himself deeper into your heat. The kiss is messy, teeth colliding as he tries to release all that pent up energy he’s been carrying around since he exited the stage.  You don’t cum that first time, you never do. It’s about Roger’s need for release, Roger’s excess energy, not yours. But you don’t mind. He’s gone above and beyond for you plenty of times before and he’ll do the same plenty more to come. The least you can do is be a pliant hole for him to get off in after each gig.  

You stay bent over, palms pressed firmly against the wall, as Roger gives a few extra thrusts, prolonging his own pleasure, before he pulls out. You stay there as he leans against you almost hidden by a curtain of his own hair, panting heavily in your ear, until he can find it in him to stand up. You stay there, with his hand on your back to keep you in place until he sees his cum dribble from your cunt. He’s calmed a bit, the bounce in his step a little less pronounced, but he can be worn out further. He needs more, needs to fully come down from the high of playing, if he wants to get a wink of sleep. When you regain your full height and turn to face him, he kisses you. He almost catches you off guard with it, making you pull in a sharp breath as his lips meet yours and he presses you into the wall. You feel completely breathless when he pulls back, dizzy from the taste of him. You both laugh softly as you look at each other, still so close you’re breathing each other’s air. “You’re sweaty,” you say softly, , dragging one palm down his chest, pouting a little. The statement is fact but it’s also code for please keep fucking me. It’s the sexy kind of sweaty. “That’s what happens when you play drums and then come home and fuck a slut,” You try to hide the shiver his tone sends along your spine, how hungry for more one little degrading name can make you. Unsuccessfully judging by the way Roger winks at you. He knows you too well, knows which buttons to push to turn you into the needy slut he so enjoys using and you so enjoy being for him. Not that it takes much to get you there, especially after he’s dropped a quick load in you and left you eager for your own release. If you had the space you’d drop to your knees to clean his cock with your tongue, taste yourself on him. But he’s still got you up against the wall, boxed in by his arms, so instead you bite your lip and give him a look that you hope comes across as either sexy innocence or sultry seductress. He laughs again, leans into your ear, “You need it that bad, love?” You just nod as he catches your earlobe between his teeth and gently tugs. There’s no point pretending otherwise. “You’ve wanted it all night, haven’t you?” He pouts back at you, teasing, mocking you for being so easy, “Let’s give her what she wants then.” He’s hasn’t quite finished speaking when he grabs your hand and pulls you into the kitchen. Sometimes you make it to the bedroom, sometimes you don’t. Tonight there’s no chance, or at least not until you’ve taken him a few times. He clears off the small square table where you eat most of your meals with a sweep of his arm, sheets of uni notes and scrawled ideas for the band fluttering to the floor, beaten there by the loud thump of one of his biology textbooks. The moment the surface is free he’s lifting you onto it, pulling your underpants off as you focus on your bra. When it too has joined the mess on the floor you lie back, arms around Roger’s neck to keep him close, the cold pendant hanging from his necklace making you shiver as it gets caught between you. He kisses you again, bites your lip with a smile and then dips his head towards your chest instead. You twist the ends of his sweat damp hair around your fingers as he enters you again. It’s not quite the same as when he took you against the wall moments before but it’s still rough, fast, hard. The first time he fucked you like that you were surprised such an angelic, pretty, soft boy could be such a devil. Biting you, pulling on your hair, leaving you with marks from how tight he held you. But you left him with marks too, nails digging into his arms and back, tugging on his hair as much as he tugged on yours. He’d just laughed when he saw the scratches in the mirror. Laughed and told you he loved you for the first time. A lot of firsts that day. He says it again now, words gasped between rapid breaths and those little whines he makes. You’d say it back except you’re not sure how to form words anymore, aside from fuck and god and his name if he’s lucky. He doesn’t mind though, he always enjoys making you speechless. You moan as he mouths at your neck, pounding into you like a fucking jackhammer, and he raises his head just enough to gloat. “Feels good doesn’t it love?” You’d call him an arse if he’d just slow down and let you breathe, a cocky bastard, a big-headed prick. You must manage to stutter one of them out because Roger responds. “T-think you mean epic – fucking – shag,” there’s a few panted breaths and then an order to rub your clit and you don’t even consider disobeying, slipping a hand between your bodies to find it. Your so close already, wound up beyond belief, eyes screwed shut and body arching as you moan. It only takes a few more moments for your climax to hit, accompanied by a violent thumping from the other side of the wall that you barely hear and that Roger only laughs at.

When you can open your eyes again they meet Roger’s. He’s still leaning over you, both palms braced against the table top, but he lowers himself a little to kiss you, smiling against your lips. You mewl as he pulls out of you once more but he swallows the sound. Slowly he retreats, pushes his hair back from his face and then takes your hand to help you sit up. He stays standing between your legs, kisses you a few more times as you both relearn how to breathe properly. His nose bumps against your cheek as he finds your lips once more, like a cat displaying affection. It’s a much softer kiss. “How’re you feeling?” “Mmhmm, good,” your voice sounds raspy to you so you swallow as best you can before saying more, “need a shower.” He laughs again, a soft puff of air against your mouth as he rests his forehead against yours, “Always so practical.” “One of us has to be,” “So you keep saying. D’you think you can stand?” “Let’s find out. Get ready to catch me.” Roger helps you down, helps you stand on shaky legs, helps you walk to the bathroom. He insists on helping you into the shower too, saying he feels responsible for your lack of mobility since he’s the one who fucked you so well. You bat his shoulder but let him accompany you into the bathroom and under the steaming water. “Mr Johnson next door hates us by the way,” he said it with a grin, looking very happy with himself, “Think we might have been overheard,” another laugh, his hand sliding from your waist to press against your pussy. You lean against Roger as his fingers rub over you, collecting the evidence of the evening so far, sliding along your slit before pressing into you. “Think we can piss everyone off a little more though, don’t you,” You agree with a soft moan, the sound echoing around the small bathroom as Roger pulls his fingers free, lifts your leg, slides into you once again, pressing you against the cold tiles on the wall. Its much slower that time. Partly because of the location, partly because Roger isn’t as hyped as he was before you got home. He holds you tightly though as you whine into his neck, his fingers on your clit. The noise makes your head spin, the drops of water hitting the floor of the shower, his grunts and encouraging words mixed with your own sighs and moans, all of it bouncing around the room, layered over each other. Your orgasm builds relatively slowly, kept alive by the constant pressure around your clit more than the cock buried in you. And Roger doesn’t chase his release like before, doesn’t thrust into you forcefully. Rather, he just holds you as close as possible, bucking his hips a little but mostly just enjoying the way you clench around him as you get closer to the edge. He swears in response to the way you tighten, warns you he’s close. You reach up and drag your fingers through his hair, press your lips to the base of his throat. He doesn’t hold out much longer, running out of energy to maintain control like that, pressing you firmly against the wall as he fills you again. His fingers fall from your clit as he shudders through his release but it’s only a momentary lapse, the pressure back even as you whine at the loss. You both know you’re close, Roger leaning into your ear to tell you to let go, to cum for him. When it does hit, it’s not an earth-shattering orgasm. You don’t see stars, don’t scream, don’t collapse in an exhausted heap. You let out a soft whine against Roger’s skin as warmth spreads through you, calm and nice. He rubs his hand over your hip until you let go of his hair, let your foot drop back to the floor. The steady stream of water reminds you where you are as Roger kisses the top of your head. He asks how you feel now, stops hovering quite so close when you say you’re fine to stand on your own. But he doesn’t go further than the corner of the shower, watching as you wash your hair and lather yourself in soap, just in case. He gives you a hand out when you’re clean but stays under the shower himself while you get changed and take care of your post-sex routine. When you glance back at him he’s got his eyes closed, head tilted back, relaxing.

You’re sitting in bed, a book open in your lap, though you aren’t really reading it, when you hear the shower close off, the soft pad of wet feet, and Roger appears in the doorway. He digs around in his clothes for a minute, finds some clean underwear and slips them on quietly. He smiles at you, a soft sleepy sort of a smile, as he takes the towel to his head, trying to wring as much water from his hair as possible. When he can’t be bothered with it anymore he lets the towel drop to the floor, a problem for tomorrow much like the rest of the mess you made through the apartment. A trail of lust fuelled destruction you’ll need to pick up and put away. He grabs a hairbrush from the top of the chest of draws and sits beside you, trying to hide a yawn. “Tired?” “No,” Roger lies, settling himself and beginning to work the brush through his locks. “Well I am so if you were planning on starting another round you’ll have to do it on your own,” He shakes his head as he tugs the brush through a particularly knotted section, “I’ll keep – fuck – I’ll keep that in mind. You got any spare socks I can use?” You laugh but Roger winces as the brush gets caught once again. “Jesus, knew I should have used more conditioner,” “You want some help with that?” “Yes please,” You mark your page and place the book to the side before pushing yourself to your knees and shuffling closer to Roger. He turns around so his back is to you, handing the brush over his shoulder. Slowly and carefully you start to untangle the knots his hair has twisted into, pulling the brush through small sections over and over until it runs smooth. “You ever think ab-” “I’m not cutting it Y/N,” “Just a suggestion,” “If I cut it you’d have nothing to hold on to.” “Fair enough,” You keep chatting as you brush Roger’s hair, able to feel him relax against you, the tension leaving his shoulders and neck, able to hear the exhaustion in every word he says. By the time you’re done his eyelids are drooping, every ounce of the overabundance of energy gone. “C’mon babe, time for bed,” you say, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. Roger just nods, shuffles around until he can crawl under the covers. You put the hairbrush on your bedside table and join him, laying on your side to face him. He takes one of your hands, lazily tugs it to his lips. “Love you,” “Love you too, Rog,” He lets his eyes close but doesn’t release you. Not until he’s well and truly asleep.

[unmanageable-day]

Come to me

PART 1 - next

Summary. After what happened in a relationship in the past, you found it difficult to trust someone with the gentleman image. 'Gentleman' seems like merely a concept and it was probably impossible for someone to be a genuine one. Now that you're stuck with the number one gentleman at campus for a group project, how would you cope with the one and only Joshua Hong?

Genre. College!au, non-idol!au / friends to lover

Pairing. Joshua x y/n x a little bit of S.Coups, and a sprinkle of Wonwoo

a/n: my brain cannot make plots with ‘y/n x ???’ like those awesome smau writers. anyway this is the first svt series i write! as i’m practicing smau, there will be some parts with texts and social media too! i’ve gotten into svt not long ago and yeah picking a bias in svt is like you pick one and you get 12 for free. if you have time to let me know what you think of this, i’d appreciate it somuch! i can’t update regularly so i don’t think im gonna make taglist like other writers. but if you’d like to be tagged, don’t hesitate to say so! stay safe and stay healthy everyone!! xoxo

"I guess it's just Jisoo now," Johnny informed you for a group project.

It was surely not the first time you encountered people with the same name. Since your school days, there would be at least two Lee Jieuns, three Kim Jonghyuns, and many Minhos or Jaehyuns with various surnames. You just had to ask which one of them if any of your friends mentioned their names without the surname. This, of course, happened until college. One day when you were assigned for a group project, Johnny Suh, the oldest member in your group, asked you to find someone named Jisoo so all of you could gather and start working on the project. Unusually, you didn't ask which Jisoo it was. You were quite certain that you had met two Jisoos since the first day of college. So you thought it would be a piece of cake to find one of them.

"Hey, I've met Kim Jisoo and she said she had taken this class. I spoke to other Jisoo, that guy who goes anywhere with Jieun. He also didn't take this class." You looked at your groupmates, confused.

"I asked Choi Jisoo too. She does take this subject but not the one with Professor Choi," added Suhyun.

You tilted your head, slightly curling your eyebrows. "Is there another Jisoo?" you mumbled with your lips pouted.

"That would be me."

You and the other friends look up at the deep voice that came out of nowhere. The puzzled look was not only appeared on your face, but also on all your groupmates.

"Joshua?" you said his name in confusion, exchanging looks with Johnny and Suhyun.

"Wait a minute." Johnny rushed to dig his bag, searching for a piece of paper that he got from the professor's assistant regarding the group members. Now that he remembered he might not have told you which Jisoo that should be on your group. "Hong Jisoo? Hong Jisoo is Joshua Hong?"

"That's correct," he answered with his unfazed face.

Joshua Hong was a transferred student who came in the second year. You were 200% sure that on his first day, he introduced himself with the name Joshua. That was the one and only information you knew about him. How were you supposed to know that he officially enrolled with his Korean name? Even all the lecturers call him Joshua too. Even Johnny, the social butterfly who knows everyone, who was also a transferred student from the States didn't talk much to him. But again, you never really noticed who your classmates were. The class was always too big, which was the excuse you'd always use.

"Anyway," Suhyun broke the silence. Finally. You were too dumbfounded that you just froze still, trying to process and make sure that Johnny didn't mistake the group members. "Let's just get started because we still have a lot to do, shall we?"

You let Suhyun and Johnny divide the workload for the four of you. And somehow Johnny decided to make pairs so you can work in 2 subgroups. Being a wise man as he claimed to be, he wouldn't let you pick Suhyun to pair with you, saying that every process had to be fair and square. You gave him a judging look, since you knew he also wanted to be with Suhyun because it can be said that she was one of the brightest in class.

"Let's draw," Johnny initiated. He got a pouch—your pouch which he took with force—that was filled with markers and continued, "There are 2 pink and 2 black markers. So, good luck with your hands."

The four of you took turns to pick the marker, starting from the boys. Johnny, who got a pink marker, grinned wide at you, slightly giving a victory vibe, just when Joshua picked a black one. You glared at him. When the chance was 50:50 between Johnny and Joshua, you couldn't even think of anything. First of all, you were not familiar at all with this Hong Jisoo. You had no idea what his pace was like. And you might not be able to order him around. Second, when it came to Johnny, obviously you were much closer with him. You were friends after all. But you knew his pace. You can give him orders and commands but it didn't mean that he would do it. So there were possibilities that you might have to do all the big work unless you were willing to have adrenaline rush, since Johnny was that deadliner type.

"Let's take it at the same time," Suhyun suggested, in which you agreed immediately. You gritted your teeth, hoping it would help you to not lose the poker face you were wearing. Then the markers of fate were revealed. Johnny almost jumped out of joy when the pink marker was in Suhyun's hand. He immediately gave Suhyun a high-five. Meanwhile you quietly turned to Joshua who had been silence since he joined the discussion. You tried to read his expression, but you looked away when his eyes searched yours.

"Anyway, let's get along and get this work done with good marks," Joshua initiated speaking.

You almost startled yourself after hearing clearly how soft Joshua's voice was. Like, it had somewhat a soothing effect to your ears. "Yeah, sure." You flashed him your best smile.

"Do you mind if I leave, like, now? Because I have to run some errands," he asked, still with that gentle, calming voice. The way he spoke and his aura certainly hit differently; it made him the weird one within your group which consisted of loud people. Sometimes you thought yourself to be a calm person too. But now looking at Joshua Hong, you started thinking that you might not be as calm as you thought.

"Yeah, no problem. We've got everything covered. Johnny will manage everything, including the online worksheet so you can just look up everything there. I'll let you know when it's ready."

"Okay, cool. I think Johnny has my number. So you can ask him."

You nodded, pretending to look just a little bit excited. After Joshua left, the fake smile on your lips disappeared and you let out a heavy sigh. Your face landed on your thick textbook. A small groan slipped off your mouth, showing your frustration which Johnny and Suhyun can't really find the reason why. They just didn't see why being grouped with someone like Joshua who had nothing but positive track record in public could be troublesome.

Johnny nudged you on the shoulder. "Hey, don't be like that. You don't even know him."

"I'll tell you a fun fact about him if that makes you feel any better." Suhyun unusually used her cheerful tone. You just knew it must be something unnecessary or something that you didn't want to know about. "Lately he becomes the it guy because he was spotted helping some freshmen, and suddenly he earned title of being a gentleman. Some of my friends also said that he always behaves with such a manner in parties. He doesn't get drunk and does stupid things, because he drinks in moderation."

Raising your head, your brows furrowed with your eyes squinting. "And why do I want to know about this?"

"She's saying that he's a catch. Who knows you're gonna get laid." Johnny clicked his tongue and winked at you.

Your eyes rolled as you sighed. "Not gonna happen. His first impression of me was not really good. I mistook him for an exchange student I was supposed to guide, so I dragged him here and there, causing him to be late on his first class—the evil Professor Lee's class! The next day I tripped over my own feet and basically threw my coffee at him." You groaned as you recalled the memory of meeting Joshua Hong for the first time. He was still as calm and quiet as now. But you can't really forget his expression when Professor Lee scolded him, and when he silently tried to wipe off the coffee stain on his white sweater. "Seriously, if you were him, you must hate me too. Even I hate me sometimes."

"Yeah, but you didn't do it on purpose?"

"Whatever." You stood up as you put back your stuff in your bag, getting ready to leave. "I'm not sure why but I feel guilty for mistaking him for another Jisoo. It's already awkward between me and him. Unless you want to switch partner—yes, I'm talking to you, John."

"It will only worsen the awkwardness between you if I say yes to switch."

Ugh, this giant has a point. But it was not like you wanted to make up to Joshua Hong. Or eventually, you had to? At least for the sake of this group project?

[cxplqnce]

Barry Allen - Back to December

Based on Back to December by Taylor Swift

This was requested by @im-still-tryin-to-find-it , hope you like it!

Word Count: 2,439

I'm so glad you made time to see me

How's life, tell me how's your family?

I haven't seen them in a while

You and Barry broke up a while ago. Eight months, two weeks and four days ago. The 20th of December - the day your heart was shattered.

You’d been kidnapped, again, and you had both had enough. He’d had enough of seeing you hurt every time a villain kidnapped you or used you to get to him and you’d had enough of being weak and powerless against these people. So you exploded at each other.

“I can’t do this anymore, Barry!” You yelled, cutting off his previous statement and stopping him from hugging you.

He looked taken aback by your outburst as tears welled up in your eyes, “Do what?” He croaked out, thinking about how this conversation would play out.

“I can’t keep getting hurt and kidnapped and used!” You explained, your voice loud and tense. You grabbed his hands, softening your tone, “I know, it’s not your fault that they keep coming after you… and it’s not your fault that you’re the Flash a-and it’s not your fault that all these horrible things keep happening to you... B-But it’s my fault that they keep happening to me, because… because I keep sticking around. And I can’t keep doing it… sticking around.” You explained.

“And I can’t keep letting you get hurt.” Barry agreed, “It’s my fault that I didn’t let you go sooner.”

“So… This, we’re… over.” You whispered, tears cascading down your cheeks.

Barry lifted his hand and wiped away your tears with his thumb before pulling you into a hug, “I guess we are.”

You've been good, busier than ever

We small talk, work and the weather

Your guard is up and I know why

You saw him a few times during the next few months, since you still lived in Central City, not being able to move away. The last time you saw him was a few weeks ago, outside of the CCPD. You’d gone there to deliver coffee to a friend of yours who was an officer and you’d accidently bumped into him. You talked about trivial things like the weather and then you both made excuses to leave.

“I am so sorry!” You said, as you leant down to pick up the files the person you had bumped into dropped. You looked up and saw, “Barry, hi.”

“Hi.” He said back. “How’ve you been?”

You smiled hoping he wouldn’t see through it, “Good,” You lied, handing him the file. “Weather’s been great, right? Nice and sunny.”

“Yeah, exactly…” He started, before there was a moment of awkward silence between the two of you, “Anyway, I’ve got to get these to Captain Singh.”

As he walked away that day, you couldn’t help but think about everything that happened. You’d heard about the latest big bad, Zoom, and how much of an effect he’d had on Barry through Cisco. You had texted him about it but he hadn’t responded and you couldn’t blame him.

Because the last time you saw me

Is still burned in the back of your mind

You gave me roses and I left them there to die

Barry hadn’t been doing well. He heard from Cisco – a few weeks after your break-up – that you had gotten sick. It was just a stomach bug but he couldn’t help himself. He sent you roses with a card that said, ‘Get Well Soon, I Miss You – B.’

You read the card but in sheer frustration you burned it in your fireplace and stamped on the roses. You regretted that decision after a few hours of thinking about it.

After you got better, Barry saw you on the street with a few of your friends after you’d gone out partying – a friend of yours had pulled you out to celebrate her promotion and he was on his way back to STAR Labs after defeating a meta. He felt like crap after that so he threw himself into something he could control – Zoom.

These days I haven't been sleeping

Staying up playing back myself leaving

When your birthday passed and I didn't call

After you destroyed the roses, you regretted it. You regretted all of it. All you could do for weeks was replay the moment you left and you hated yourself for it even though you knew it was for good reason. It was a selfless decision, to make life easier for both of you. He didn’t have to worry about you getting hurt and you didn’t have to feel weak and powerless anymore or worry about his safety. But you wanted to be selfish so you recorded a voicemail.

“Hey, Bare… I know I shouldn’t be calling and I shouldn’t be saying any of this… but, but I miss you. I do, I miss you! And I can’t stop myself from thinking… Maybe we made a mistake. Maybe we made the selfless decision for a reason but maybe we didn’t. Maybe we deserve to be selfish – after everything we’ve been through.

“Anyway, I’m sorry. I miss you and I love you.”

After you recorded it you were going to send it but you chickened out. However, you still saved it.

And I think about summer, all the beautiful times

I watched you laughing from the passenger side

And realized I'd loved you in the fall

You thought about when you first got together, before you figured out who the Reverse-Flash really was. He’d been freaking out about what to do and you tried to calm him down. And you thought about the summer after the Reverse-Flash, after Eddie and Ronnie died and he got justice for his parents. You had been there for him through all of it and he was so grateful. You made him happy even though he felt like his world was crashing down – you held it up.

“Barry! Hey, it’s okay.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around him as he tried to calm his breathing. “I’m here, I’ll always be here. I promise.”

“Thank you.” He whispered back, into your shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His breathing got slower and you just held each other for a few minutes or perfect silence before he pulled away from your grasp slightly. “Thank you, for everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You smiled, “Well, you’ll never have to find out.” You said, brushing his hair out of his face with your fingers.

Suddenly, he brought his hands to your cheeks and pulled your lips to his. Sparks flew between you, it felt like a rom-com ending where the two leads finally realise they are in love and have the climactic ‘big kiss’.

It was October when you first said those three little words. You had just saved Stein and paired him with Jax to stabilize the FIRESTORM matrix. Hewitt had been dealt with and you had finally gotten a moment alone with your boyfriend.

“Hey, superhero.” You smiled, walking into the cortex where Barry stood looking at the monitors and his suit.

He smiled when he saw you and heard the little nickname you gave him, “Hey,” He replied, beckoning you over and pulling you into his side. You rested your head on his chest, feeling the safest you’d ever felt. It was this moment you knew.

“I love you.” You whispered, out of the blue. Barry pulled away from you and looked down at your smiling face, “I know that everything with Earth-2 and Wells and Jay is crazy. And I know you’re a superhero and the universe is nothing like what we thought it was. And I know that we are the furthest thing from a normal couple and I know that I don’t know what is going to happen next. And I know that I love you… So, so much.”

A smile had crept onto Barry’s face at your words, and he rested his hand on your shoulders, “I love you too. That’s all I know, and it’s everything that I need.”

And then the cold came, the dark days when fear crept into my mind

You gave me all your love and all I gave you was goodbye

Being kidnapped was scary but you’d kind of gotten used to it by this point. Mark Mardon, James Jesse and Snart had kidnapped you and brought you to their hideout. Thankfully, Barry had saved you and Central City but the fear of being kidnapped again started to get to you.

Yes, you had been kidnapped before but it was something about the three of them that freaked you out. That’s when you’d blown up even though you didn’t mean to and didn’t want to. Fear had gotten to you. So you said goodbye.

I miss your tan skin, your sweet smile, so good to me, so right

And how you held me in your arms that September night

The first time you ever saw me cry

You missed him. Plain and simple. You regretted your decision and you missed him. You missed his smile, his personality, his optimism, his faith in people and his belief that they were good. He did right by you, he was good to you and he wasn’t perfect but he was definitely perfect for you.

Barry wasn’t the only one with problems. There were times when you’d break down and he’d be the one to hold you up. You didn’t always show your emotions – you were good at keeping them locked up but you felt comfortable around him to let him know.

You stood outside of his door at five in the morning, wrapped up in his coat that he’d left at your house. Thankfully, Barry was the one who opened the door only a few seconds after you rang the doorbell.

“Hey,” He said, concern on his tired face when he saw the tears on yours. You’d had a fight with your sister and even though it was early and he had work in the morning, he still invited you in. “Do you want a drink or something to eat?”

“No, I just want you.” You said. Barry smiled, sitting down on the couch and pulling you into his arms.

Maybe this is wishful thinking

Probably mindless dreaming

But if we loved again I swear I'd love you right

I'd go back in time and change it but I can't

You missed him so you made the selfish decision to talk to him and try to get him back. It had been a difficult thing to do. You waited at Jitters for a few hours to try and catch him but as soon as he showed up you chickened out. You tried to catch him at work but chickened out a second time so you decided to go to his house.

Little did you know, but Barry was thinking the same thing. His dad had died three months prior and he realised how short life was and how much he need you in his. He missed everything about you; your positivity, your stubbornness and your smile. You weren’t perfect but you were perfect for him.

So this is me swallowing my pride

Standing in front of you saying I'm sorry for that night

And I go back to December all the time

It turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you

Wishing I'd realized what I had when you were mine

I'd go back to December turn around and change my own mind

I go back to December all the time

You walked up the steps to his house and knocked on the door. You waited for a few seconds before Barry opened it. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”

“Can we talk?” You asked. He nodded and let you in the house. You sat yourself on the couch and started. “I’m sorry. For everything, I just want to be selfish – I mean, I-I don’t know how to say it.” You said, trying to get the words out. You couldn’t figure out how to phrase what you wanted to say but you remembered the voicemail. “Wait a sec.” you got out your phone and found it, holding your it out to him. “Just listen to this.”

Barry took the phone from your hand and put it up against his ear.

“Hey, Bare… I know I shouldn’t be calling and I shouldn’t be saying any of this… but, but I miss you. I do, I miss you! And I can’t stop myself from thinking… Maybe we made a mistake. Maybe we made the selfless decision for a reason but maybe we didn’t. Maybe we deserve to be selfish – after everything we’ve been through.

“Anyway, I’m sorry. I miss you and I love you.”

Barry’s face contorted in confusion and realisation as he listened intently to your words, pulling the phone away from his ear when he heard the end beep. “You mean that, all of it.”

“Yeah,” You answered, a tear falling out of your eye. You stood up, feeling a surge of confidence, “And I want to be selfish with you. Life is short and precious and I want to make the most of it but I can’t do that without you… I have never regretted anything more than I regret what I did… So, I-I am swallowing my pride and standing here telling you that I am so sorry for that night. I didn’t know what I had until you weren’t mine anymore and if I could I would go back and change everything… and I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to realise that I love you.”

Barry leapt up from the couch and held your hands in his, “I am so glad you just said all that… I feel exactly the same way. I wish I could go back and change our minds, because I love you, Y/N. I love you so much and I can’t live without you either…  I was scared that I would lose you but I won’t be scared anymore because family makes us stronger and you are my family… I promise you, that I will do everything I can to protect you… And I will spend every day showing you how much you mean to me. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You smiled, “Now kiss me, you dork.” Barry smiled back at you, obliging to your demands. Your lips moved together in perfect sync as you held each other, promising never to let go again.

A/N: Also, follow my instagram @ cxplqnce and I take requests! :)

[greekbros]

"greek-Bros: The Return of an Old Enemy"

Chapter 9: The 'War' Room

It was approximately high noon, the Dionysian Games were at their peak, all was well for the residents of Delphi except for one. Dionysus was in his competitors tent near the game field, explaining to Hermes the whole situation. Dionysus had agreed to a challenge that had now put Delphi and Ariadne in a compromising situation, if Ares won the joust he would take everything from the land to sleeping with his beloved wife.

Dionysus was laying on a pile of pillows, deeply remorseful of his string of terrible decisions. "I can't believe I would put Ariadne in this situation I really am like dad!", he sobbed, "WHY the fuck did I even agree to this?!", he continued while crying into his pillow. Hermes sat next to him, patting his back trying to comfort him. He couldn't care too much about how it all happened but he had an idea on how he was going to help.

Hermes laid down on the pillows and let out a relaxed sigh, he already had the plan all mapped out. "Dionysus, you know very well even if Ares does win...I'm not letting him screw you and Ariadne. By the way....is he using his OWN horses for this?", he asked. Ares's chariot was pulled by a trio of horses that would be best described as literal Night Mares, these mystical fire breathing war horses are fast, aggressive and can pull a lot more than Ares's weight.

Dionysus turned, sniffling, "....I'm not sure why?", now he was curious as to what Hermes was planning, "why? What are you going to do?". He was desperate to find some way of winning. It would be devastating if Ariadne found out she was going to be a prize for Ares and lose her kingdom let alone have her husband lose a challenge he decided to enter.

Hermes gave a smirk, inspite of current events he always knew how to make time for anything. "Well, I remember correctly....his horses are pretty tough....if he is using his horses, I could let them out....replace them with some of the horses from here.....I mean...how does wine effect horses.... especially ones that....breath fire?", he asked with a sly grin. He leaped up, pacing back and forth. "We could.....get him drunk, throw him off his game...or...we can go a little more further.", he turned to Dionysus for some approval.

Dionysus was catching on with Hermes's plan. He stood up, "...yeah.....I see where you're going with this....yeah.....but how are we going to get the horses to drink the wine? I mean....you can't just lead a horse to water....also....what if an animal that BREATHES fire....wine is flammable you know...". The two were brainstorming, thinking of ways Ares could be sabotaged. Their brain power would get a boost in the form of someone outside. The two heard the familiar but eloquently frustrated voice of Apollo, demanding to see Dionysus. Dionysus rushes to the tent entrance and opens to see Apollo, talking to one of the satyrs guarding the tent. "Hey man how's it hanging?", Dionysus chimed.

Apollo turned around and the look on his face spoke a thousands that all could translate to "What the HELL did I tell you?!". He marched towards Dionysus, pushes him gently back into the tent to yell at him. "WHY IS THERE AN EVENT GOING ON?!?", he shouted, "I thought I told you to hold off on any parties or anything to make sure the people are safe from what's been going on!". He almost couldn't believe that Dionysus would go the point of risking the Delphians for the sake of having fun.

Dionysus slunked into himself like a turtle going into his shell. "W-well Apollo ol'pal...ugh....wow you are NOT going to believe what else....ugh...Ares is here too....aaaaaand I'm in trouble.....more specifically.... Ariadne is in trouble.", he tried to soften the news but even he knew it wasn't going to quell Apollo's mild fury.

Hermes stepped into help in his own way, "Yeah Dionysus bet his wife, Delphi itself and his patronship of Delphi to Ares if he lost.", successfully making the situation far worse. Apollo's usually fare glowingly pale face was slowly glowing a burning fiery orange with anger, it became hotter in the tent, melting any wax candles and drying any leaves from fruits inside. "Come on Apollo, are you really going to get mad inside of this highly flammable tent with your two favorite brothers in mine?", Hermes charmed Apollo. The hot glow dimmed back into the cooler pale tone he usually had, he knew no matter how angry he got it would be pointless to lose his temper.

Apollo took a deep sigh, sat down to further collect himself. ".....ok...now...what do you plan on doing then?", he asked. He could see both Dionysus and Hermes had a plan, and he knew he wasn't going to like it. "Oh good....it seems you both have something cooked up.", he begrudgingly assumed.

The two stood there looking at Apollo, Hermes walked to a table that had a bottle of wine. "Let's just say, Ares isn't going to drive his chariot straight if his HORSES have been drinking....oh..ugh....DID you see his horses?", he asked. Apollo nodded 'yes', so unfortunately, the plan of forcing Ares's horses to drink the wine would pose a challenge. "Ok, so....we will have to feed the horses something else....spiked fruit?", he suggested. The two looked at Hermes, both couldn't argue against the idea yet they found it to be a usable one.

Dionysus chimed in, "yeah I think I have some marinated apples somewhere. We could feed it to his horses if they don't drink the wine.", he left the tent to look for some at a food tent nearby, leaving the two brothers alone.

Apollo knew that Hermes wasn't here just to enjoy watching Dionysus's fake Olympic games, he had been watching what had been going on in Greece. "Hermes, now that we're alone. What have you seen as of late? Is what I've heard from Artemis true?", Apollo was referring to the wolf man that Hermes and Artemis had encountered. He had recently come in contact with Artemis, whom had come to him to ask about Zeus's whereabouts.

His mischievous demeanor calmed into a somber awareness. Hermes took a deep sigh, he got distracted with Dionysus's issue. He turned to Apollo, "yeah, it was pretty freaky...the thing didn't die on the first shot either. I haven't seen them appear during the day though. I think these creatures only come out of night.", he took off hat hat and scratched his head. "Dionysus was getting a lot of complaints....guess people here can't stand still for long....I can see why he caved in, he doesn't want to disappoint anyone....I can relate, buuuuut honestly the whole situation feels weird.". Hermes felt mildly uncomfortable about his encounter, he had been so use to seeing things die and stay dead, that it had never occurred to him that something could reanimate.

Apollo's stern face loosened up, "Well.....he always seems to listen to his mortal citizens more than me so I'm not sure why I always act surprised.", he relaxed a little but noticed Hermes a little bit worried, "Are you ok? Artemis did mention you didn't take too well to the.... creature.". He could see Hermes look like a someone who saw something he shouldn't.

"it's ok", Hermes replied, "....I just prefer dead things to be dead....that's all.". He turned to the shuffling tent wall and sees Dionysus come in with a jar of fruit pickled in wine. "Ah perfect Dio, I'll take the fruit and wine. Wait here and I'll handle the rest.", Hermes took the jar and an amphora of wine and jetted off, leaving Dionysus and Apollo in the tent.

Dionysus turned to Apollo, "sooooo........ugh....hehe, have you seen the games? Man the folks out there are having fun.", he tried to make it as if he wasn't caring about his dilemma but there was no point, "man I fucked up big time..... fucking Ares, the asshole.... should have asked for someone who wouldn't want to fuck Ariadne.....man I'm a terrible husband.", he slumped on to a pile of pillows. He was still worried about the joust, he was worried about losing Ariadne's trust in him, and above all he was worried if he resembled Zeus in the worst way possible. Dionysus let out a deep sigh, "guess I really am my dad's kid..."

Apollo could hear the hurt in Dionysus's voice, he got closer to him and placed his hand on his back. "Look, you messed up even for your standards.....but you're not a terrible husband, you two are young newlyweds, you've been married for a short amount time and mistakes happen.... don't be THAT hard on yourself. There's still time to fix things....does she know about the bet?", asked Apollo.

"No...she doesn't....and I don't want her to know about ANY of it. If I lose, I lose everything that's important to me....if I win...well...I have yet to see Ares be a good sport about losing....for all I know he'll tell her out of spite", Dionysus replied.

"Oh come now, Ares is a difficult person for sure and he's unbarable at times....but I doubt he will be that level of cruelty. Maybe he was just exaggerating...after all the man is the father of Fear and Terror himself, he would know a thing or two about making people fear him." Apollo reassured him. "Plus, I have no doubt Ariadne would forgive you. You've done quite a lot for her if you remember, she knows you love her and you'd end the world for her.", Apollo hoped his words would at least inspire Dionysus not to consider himself a failure of a husband. After all, he along with Hades, have seemed to have rather successful marriages and to compare one's marriage to Zeus's marriage is surly a blow to one's heart and soul let alone their ego.

Dionysus looked at Apollo and smiled, "....thanks....but I just don't want to mess up anyway.", he got up and took a quick peek outside to see how far into the games the people had gotten through. Unfortunately time wouldn't be on their side, it had seems the Delphians had gone through the whole games and have already started giving out makeshift medals. "GAH! THE GAMES ARE ALMOST DONE!", he loudly panicked, he ran towards the set of armor that he set aside so he can put on for the joust, "OH GODS IM FUCKED! Hermes better be done with what he was doing!", he quickly put on his armor.

"I'll go and distract Ares then, see if I can change his mind about the bet, good luck out there Dionysus.", Apollo quickly left Dionysus in the tent.

"Bye see you later.", Dionysus responded.

Elsewhere, Hermes was at a temporary stable where the horses for the joust. Hermes snuck into the stables in hopes no one noticed him. He looked around and could see Ares's three huge, scary looking chariot horses, he slowly tiptoed to them. The horses noticed his presence, these weren't friendly horses, these horses might as well have been the horses of straight from King Augeas's stable. Hermes took a bowl and pored the wine into it, he raised it to the opening of the stable up to the three horses. In a whispered voice, "...hey there buddies, you want something to take the edge off? Come on, it should smell irresistible.", Hermes was hoping the sweet smelling wine would attract their attention, one of the horses did I fact take a sip from the bowl. It drank the whole thing in a few sips, letting out a loud delighted whinny.

"Hehe, perfect.", Hermes poured another bowl to see if he could give more wine, the same horse drank the wine while the second horse became curious and took a few sips as well. Now all was left was to get the third horse hooked on the wine, but the third horse was different, this one was a stubborn mare that lead the trio while they pull the chariot. She wasn't going to fall for the wine as easily. Hermes took a quick peak at the mare, "c'moooooon, what gives?", he could see she was all the way in the corner, glaring at him while her brothers fought to take the last few sips. As Hermes poured the last of wine into the bowl, he went to take out a wine soaked pealed apple from the jar. He gently tossed to the mare, the other two horses could smell the wine on the apple and tried to go right for it, but the mare reared her head, snorting aggressively. The two other horses stopped, the mare sniffed the apple and took a small nibble.

It took a few seconds for the mare to understand why this apple was spicy, however, she seemed to have liked the spiked fruit and ate it in one bite. She clopped towards Hermes, intimidating him for more apples, he quickly obliged and held the jar to the mare. She shoved her muzzle into the jar, eating a few more bits of alcoholic fruit. Hermes wasn't satisfied yet, he left the jar with the mare and he quickly ran to get two more amphoras of wine. He quickly began to pore more wine for all three horses, the more the three sipped, the relaxed and tipsy they acted. The three swayed back and forth, bumping into each other, loudly snorting and whinnying.

Plan A, was a success. Hermes patted the three horses snouts, knowing damn well he would never have a chance to do this with Ares's horses ever again. "Ok, bye bye.", he darted off to see what Ares was doing, unfortunately, he was more focused than ever, he was now for some reason practicing using his sword on an innocent tree as if he was going to fight Dionysus to the death. "What the fuck is he doing, he isn't going to kill dionysus is he?", Hermes questioned to himself. He suddenly saw Apollo call out to Ares, wanting to have a conversation with him. "Ah oh, this is going to be good....or really bad.", Hermes hoped Apollo was going to help.

End of chpr 9

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

But You Can Never Leave [Chapter 12: The Mirror]

A/N: Hi y’all!! Please enjoy, this is a long one. We’re getting into the exciting stuff now, so I’ll be putting all my creative energy into BYCNL and will hopefully finish up the series within the next month. Thank you so much for your love and support! Each and every reblog/message/comment makes me smile and means the absolute world to me! 💜

Chapter summary: John gets a rap sheet, Roger gets defensive, Y/N gets suspicious, News Of The World gets a headline.

This series is a work of fiction, and is (very) loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

Song inspiration: Hotel California by The Eagles.

Chapter warnings: Language, drugs, babies, drama, angst.

Chapter list (and all my writing) available HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @loveandbeloved29​ @killer-queen-xo​ @maggieroseevans​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @queenlover05​ @someforeigntragedy​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​ @joemazzmatazz​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​ @namelesslosers​ @inthegardensofourminds​ @deacyblues​ @youngpastafanmug​ @sleepretreat​ @hardyshoe​ @bramblesforbreakfast​ @sevenseasofcats​ @tensecondvacation​ @queen-crue​ @jennyggggrrr​ @madeinheavxn​ @whatgoeson-itslate​ @brianssixpence​ @simonedk​ @herewegoagainniall​ @stardust-killer-queen​ @anotheronewritesthedust1​

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! :)

You’re not late. You’re never late.

And at first that’s okay, it’s more than okay, it’s a relief; because it was too soon to have a baby anyway, less than a year into a supposedly meaningless marriage, a marriage you and Roger never even speak of, a marriage that might have never happened at all—might only exist as a particularly vivid and pleasant dream—if it wasn’t for your freshly-minted British citizenship. At first you greeted each dark, fruitless stain of blood with a casual ruefulness—oh well, one more month of freedom, you would think, smiling a little, worrying not very much at all—content to let that milestone trophy of womanhood, of life, lay undusted and unclaimed in the cluttered pit of your mental oak trunk with a tarnished gold latch shaped like a lion’s jaw.

After four months, you start to notice things. You notice the way Chrissie’s twins have small willow-green eyes that turn down in the corners, just like Brian does; you notice how John’s children have his downy hair and that innate sort of reticence that some people mistake for banality; you notice all those pretty, anonymous young women pushing strollers through the blossoming summer foliage of Hyde Park. You notice the way Roger grins and waves at babies when you see them in airports or hotel lobbies, dazzles them like he dazzles very nearly everybody, like he still dazzles you. You notice a longing buried in your bones that you hadn’t known existed.

After six months, you are no longer casually rueful. You start ignoring the calendar, as if not noticing you’re due could stop the bleeding from coming at all, like how you’re not supposed to stare at the clock if you want time to pass faster. You start watching what you’re eating, trying to get more sleep, opening all the windows when Roger smokes as he flips through fashion and music magazines with crafty little snickers, flashing those pointy canine teeth you once assumed your children would have.

And now, after nine months—as the world hurtles towards the conclusion of the brisk October of 1977—you have begun to worry; because maybe this thing, this thing that everyone accepts as a guaranteed feature of the all-inclusive package of the human experience, isn’t something you get to have at all. Roger doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask you about it. He is as he always is: sunlight and joy and heat and raw kinetic energy. But sometimes Roger’s huge blue eyes—those eyes you fell in love with, those eyes that convinced you to follow Queen to London, to stardom, to thunderous stadiums all over the world—go vacant as he gazes out into the horizon, as the sun sets over the garden of the Surrey house, as his face is lit up in gold and amber and celestial fury like the wildfire his soul is made of.

And you’ve begun to worry about him, too.

~~~~~~~~~~

The phone rings from the nightstand. The shrill clanging, like hail on glass, makes you wince beneath the tangle of blankets. Your hand fumbles out into cool night air, which pours in from the open bedroom window.

Where’s Roger?

Then you remember his hushed voice, his bleached hair tickling your cheek, his lips pressed to your temple: Hey baby. I gotta go jam with some people. Grab a drink or two. You sleep, I’ll be back by morning.

Sure, okay, fine. Nothing out of the ordinary. One of those infinite casualties of fame.

You haul the phone to your ear. “Hello...?”

“Hello darling, are you busy?”

“Well, it’s 2:39 a.m., Fred. So not very.”

“Perfect. I need you to go post bail for John.”

You wrench yourself upright, rubbing your eyes with your free hand. “What?!”

“He was drunk driving and backed into a cop car, pure genius. I’m rather indisposed myself at the moment, and of course Veronica can’t know. And you’re so good with him, dear.”

Your feet have already swung off the bed and onto the plush white carpet. You wonder what Freddie is ‘indisposed’ with; there are so many possibilities these days. “And you know about this...because...?”

“He used his phone call on me, darling. I don’t think he wanted to bother you. I suspect he’s a bit mortified.”

“Yeah, well, he should be.” You sigh and start pawing through the safe in the bedroom closet, the spiraled phone cord pulled taunt. Hundred-pound notes shuffle weightlessly between your fingers. You remember when Queen had no money at all, when you and Roger shared a pitiful—dodgy, you amend—one-bedroom flat, when you had to assemble each bouquet and tie each ribbon for John’s wedding by hand; and you’re shocked by the nostalgia that hits you in the gut like brass knuckles. “Sure, I’ll go get him. Just tell me where he is and how much he’ll owe me.”

John is slumped on the floor of the jail cell, alone and sweated and miserable. His hair is in complete disarray. He peers up at you through the iron bars with red, swollen, unfocused eyes.

“Hey,” you say quietly, smiling although you know you shouldn’t be.

He covers his face with both hands and moans. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Too late. Freddie asked me to come get you, he was drunk or high or in the middle of an orgy or something. You are the worst drunk driver in the world, just so you’re aware. You are obviously not cut out for a life of crime.”

“So I’ve gathered.” He swipes at the strands of hair stuck to his forehead with the back of his hand, bites his lower lip, shakes his head with that thousand-yard stare that says: How the fuck did I get here?

You drop down to your knees to meet him at his level. The concrete floor is filthy, spotted with grime and dust and crushed insects and smears of what might be blood. “What’s going on, John?” you ask gently.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he murmurs. “It’s okay when we’re on tour. When we’re on tour I’m preoccupied and exhausted and too high on the rush to think about it too much. I’m numb. Mostly. But then I come home and it’s...” He glowers, balls his hands into fists, beats them clumsily against his thighs. “It’s this relentless fucking cycle of feeling dissatisfied and guilty and inadequate. A disappointment of a husband. A failure of a father. And it’s inescapable.”

“Well, the constant pregnancy situation probably doesn’t help.” Veronica is expecting their third child in February.

He waves a hand dismissively, rolls his eyes. “It’s part of the thing. The ‘being a good husband’ thing. I can’t fix that. Birth control is a sin or whatever. Jesus is too busy pissing himself over that to care about starving kids in the Soviet Union, I guess.”

“That’s a cheerful prospect.”

“Sorry.”

“No, please, by all means. Throw off all your baggage, I can take it.”

Now he smirks, just faintly. “That’s what we’ve always done for each other, right?”

“We’ll be back on tour in a few weeks, John.” And that was true; the News Of The World Tour was scheduled to begin on November 11th in Portland, Maine. The band would spend the 12th in Boston and join your parents for dinner at the Queen Anne-style house at the intersection of Apple and Arcadia that you grew up in.

He whispers forlornly: “I can’t run from this forever.”

“You might have to. I’d love to know what Slavic Jesus has to say about divorce.”

John coughs out a surprised laugh. “Thank you. I needed that.”

“Come on. I posted your bail. I won’t tell Roger if you won’t. You can put the extra five thousand pounds in your ‘fake my own death and go live on a tropical island’ fund instead of paying us back.” You’re not serious, and John knows that; he would never abandon his children, even if they weren’t old enough to really remember him yet. But it has the desired effect, which of course is lifting the mood, making John divulge that rare and beautiful smile.

“I’m a wreck. I can’t go home like this. It’d be worse than not coming home at all.”

“I’m happy to offer you one of our five superfluous bedrooms.”

“Okay,” John sighs, clutching the bars of his jail cell and dragging himself to his feet. “I’m so sorry. I owe you for this, I really do.”

“No,” you reply, grinning. “Just find a way to send me the coordinates so I can visit you on your secret tropical island once in a while.”

You drive John home to the Surrey house, get him set up in the spare bedroom with the blue-grey wallpaper and blankets patterned with seahorses, give him a stack of Roger’s clean clothes, lay out fresh towels and a tray of water and cookies—biscuits, you reprimand yourself—for him. He’s mostly sober now, which makes you feel somewhat better; still, you are aware that you hate the thought of leaving him alone, even if he’s only a few walls away.

“Thank you,” he says as you stand in the doorway, his face meditative, his hands in the pockets of his leather coat.

“Of course.”

“You’re a good friend. The best, actually.”

“You’re a good man. You don’t always know it, but you are.”

John just stares at you with an expression you can’t read. Like the ocean: always mysterious, always profound. “Goodnight,” he says after a while.

“Goodnight, John.”

As you pull the bedroom door shut, you hear erratic thumps coming up the staircase. Roger stumbles into the upstairs hallway, singing under his breath and drumming the air with invisible drumsticks, and holds out his arms when he sees you. He’s wearing his dark green suit, an unraveling tie, one sparkling pink Converse, his prescription sunglasses tangled in his hair and forgotten. His eyes are effervescent, flighty, almost manic.

“Hey, love of my life!” he cries, comically loud. “What are you doing up?!”

“Shhhhh! Your bassist partied a little too hard and needed a place to crash that wasn’t overrun with kids. He’s in the blue room.”

“Deaks? Deaks is sleeping over?!” Roger exclaims, beaming. “All my favorite people are here!”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t bother him. He’s pretty messed up, he needs the rest. I’ll make everyone pancakes in the morning or something. Come over here, let’s get you—” But the words die in your throat as you try to tug off Roger’s suit jacket. Fine white powder sheds off the emerald velvet fabric and onto your palm. You blink at it, at the residue like crushed aspirin, like the salt they scatter on Boston roads the night before a snowfall. “What is this?”

He rips his sleeve away, conjures up a smile to throw you off the trail. To dazzle his way out of this. “Nothing.” But he knows. And he knows you know too.

“You were...snorting coke...?”

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that...” He tries to embrace you; you shove him back.

“Roger, no, this is...this is...” You shake your head, shrugging off the shock, searching for the words. You’re confused, you’re exhausted, your mind is whirling. “We’re home, Roger,” you plead, like it means something.

Has he done this before? When? How often? With who?

You should know the answers. It’s not a good sign that you don’t.

“So?” Now he’s indignant.

“So it’s not like being on tour, you’re supposed to take it easy at home, you’re supposed to be, I don’t know, relaxed and recovering and, and, and content...”

You’re not supposed to have an excuse to do all those things that destroy people.

He laughs bitterly. “What, ‘happy at home’?! When has that ever been me?”

“Rog, please, I’m not saying you can’t work all the time or drink or smoke, I’m not even saying you can’t get wasted, I’m just drawing the line at cocaine and I don’t think that’s a terribly despotic place to draw a line.”

“Oh I’m sorry, I must have missed it, when did you become too moralistic for drugs?”

“Acid is different than coke and you know it. Acid doesn’t kill people.”

He glares at you, savage, almost hateful. “You don’t get to put me in a cage.”

“I’m not being controlling or self-righteous, I’m being concerned—”

“You’re being a fucking cop, that’s what you’re being,” Roger snaps.

“What do you want me to say?! I’m a registered nurse, Roger, I’m a medical professional, it’s literally my job to keep you alive—”

“No, it’s your job to make sure we can record and tour and I need it, I can’t play without it, don’t you get that?! I fucking need it!”

Instantly, John is between you, still fully dressed and sweating Manhattans out of his pores and seething. He’s taller than Roger; surely you must have noticed that before. But if you had, you’ve since forgotten. “Roger,” he threatens in a low, unyielding voice. “Go to bed.”

Roger recoils, disoriented, then opens his mouth to protest.

“Go!” John roars, pointing towards the main bedroom. He wants to say more, you can tell, he has rage burning in him like dragonfire; and if it had been Brian or even Freddie, John would have said it. But this is Roger. And you can’t remember a time John has ever raised his voice to Roger before now.

Roger can’t wrap his brain around it either, particularly in his present condition. His eyelids flutter a few times, then he scoffs—a dismissive, derisive sound, a sound that says I don’t know what to do with this information—and staggers away. He slams the bedroom door behind him as he disappears inside.

You collapse against the nearest wall and hiss in ragged breaths through your teeth, your eyes wet and stinging, your hands trembling as you press your knuckles to your lips.

“I-I-I’m so sorry about that,” you whisper, avoiding John’s eyes.

He’s going to say something, something harsh and terrible but true. He’s finally going to tell me how stupid I was for ever thinking this could work, just like Chrissie and Freddie and Brian. He’s going to tell me I deserve it.

Instead, John offers only this, his words flat and hollow: “Yeah. I’m sorry everyone is disappointing you tonight.”

And then he’s gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the morning—early afternoon, really—Roger doesn’t remember; or at least he feigns convincingly that he doesn’t. He props his feet up on the kitchen table and shovels down six pancakes and theatrically relays to you all the scandalous celebrity gossip in the News Of The World magazine with his prescription sunglasses perched bookishly on his nose. He asks you three times if you’re alright, trying to read the hesitance in your eyes, to unearth all those questions that are taking up a permanent residence there. You smile and nod, sip your tea, watch the sharp autumn sunshine as it streams in through the windows and bathes Roger in luminescence that seems so benignly interminable in the light of day. And when you peer into the bedroom with seahorse-patterned blankets and walls the color of cold rain, John has vanished; but the air is heavy with the scent of a litany of cigarettes and there’s a handwritten note left on one pillow.

Thanks for everything. Hang tough, as the Yanks say. An island getaway awaits you.

~ World’s Worst Drunk Driver

At 3 p.m., John calls and asks if the Taylors would be interested in an outing to the park while he gives Veronica a few hours alone to catch up on housework without the kids. His tone is light, casual, harmless; but you suspect he’s checking in on you.

“Of course we’re interested!” Roger says, snatching his ostentatious fur coat off the back of his chair. “Baby, love of my life, go get some cash from the safe so we can buy the kids ice cream.”

Incidentally, there’s not much cash left in the safe; but you find a ten-pound note in your wallet for the ice cream man and make a mental note to run to the bank on Monday.

Hyde Park in October isn’t so different than Boston. The leaves above are a kaleidoscope of sunstone and rubies and jasper and jade, crisping and curling around their serrated edges, drifting listlessly onto pavement paths to be crushed beneath rushing feet; the roots of the trees are centuries deep. Chrissie is walking laps around the pond as she pushes the twins’ stroller; Evelyn is a fairly good sleeper, but Theodore—Teddy to his closest confidants, of which you are one—is an anxious baby and prone to whining. He’s definitely Brian’s son, you often find yourself thinking with an affectionate smirk. John’s ten-month-old daughter Anna is nestled in your arms in a semi-conscious state, having thoroughly exhausted herself by painting her face with chocolate ice cream and thereafter enduring an impromptu bath and wardrobe change in a public restroom.

Laszlo, two years old and with a mop of auburn curls, trots by the edge of the pond as Roger grips his tiny hand, periodically crouches down beside him, grins hugely and points out swans and fish darting through the dark rippling water. Laszlo shrieks with laughter and tries to steal Roger’s sunglasses, which glint in the sunlight like black mirrors.

“So your kid’s a convict too,” you say to John.

“Gotta train them when they’re still small and good for shimmying through dog doors and such.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Extremely hungover, but I’m trying not to show it.”

“You’re doing a good job, I wouldn’t have known.”

“Excellent. I don’t think Veronica noticed. She was very curious about how I ended up in a pair of Roger’s skintight leopard-print pants, though.”

You chuckle, glimpsing down at Anna, rocking her a little as her eyes flitter open and then close again. You and John are on opposite ends of a wooden park bench, your ankles crossed and resting in his lap, your hair rustling in the breeze. John peers over at you periodically, studies you like an ancient statue of Aphrodite or Perseus under a spotlight in an echoing museum, then resumes his sketching. Your smile dies as you watch Roger giggle with Laszlo, lift him high into the cool autumn air, trumpet mock airplane noises in that high, raspy voice.

“Come on,” John prompts, nudging your boots. “I’ll take the baggage if you’ll let me.”

No, I think I’ll keep this one to myself. But you don’t. “It’s my fault,” you say softly. It’s my fault we can’t have children.

John lifts his pencil from the page, his greyish eyes gentle. “You don’t know that.”

“Statistically, it is most likely my fault.”

“It hasn’t been that long, has it? Definitely less than a year. Sometimes these things take time.”

“They didn’t for you and Veronica.”

“Yes, well...” John frowns uneasily. “That’s not always such a blessing.”

“How helpful. You should write newspaper columns for depressed housewives. ‘Don’t worry about that infertility dear, you could have it worse, you could have a life sentence with someone you can’t fucking stand.’”

That was unkind, you think, immediately regretting it. That might have been too far.

But John doesn’t seem offended. His pencil flies over the paper as he glances over at you again. “Is that all? Please continue. I’m riveted to learn more about my alternative career path.”

“No, I think I’m done.”

“Okay. What’s your favorite flower?”

You consider that. “Roger always gets me carnations or roses...and I like them, don’t get me wrong...but I don’t know if I’d call either of those my favorite.”

“It’s not that deep a question, Miss Nightingale.”

“I’ll defer to the artist’s expertise. Surprise me.”

“I’m no artist,” John warns, but he returns to his sketching nonetheless. “I’m really sorry about last night, by the way. I was being stupid and dramatic and immature and self-pitying. ‘Midway on our life's journey, I found myself in dark woods, the right road lost,’ etcetera etcetera.”

You’re no great connoisseur of Italian literature, but you recognize those famous opening lines of the Inferno. “Can I ask you something?”

“Please do.”

“What is this fascination you have with Dante?”

“Truly?”

“Yeah.”

He smiles pensively with his eyes cast out over the pond. “I like that his story has a happy ending. That someone can start in hell and sweat out all their sins in purgatory and end up among the stars.”

You raise your eyebrows, taken back, impressed. “That’s awfully poetic.”

“It’s strange, probably,” John says, scrutinizing his drawing.

“No, really. I love it.”

“Yeah?” He’s doubtful, but he’ll allow himself to believe you if you insist.

“Yeah. And no more drunk driving or other acts of self-destruction, okay? Queen would crumble without you, John. And so would I.”

In reply, he rips the page out of his notebook and hands it over. The image is of you: so infinitely more lovely and at peace than you feel, eyes wise and contented and reflecting halos of sunlight, John’s daughter dozing in your arms.

Tucked behind your ear, etched in graphite shadows, is a calla lily.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Darling, what do I look like?” Freddie bats his eyelashes flirtatiously.

“A raccoon.”

His face screws into a grimace. “I’m supposed to be a cat.”

“Yes, I’m cognizant of that. But you look like a raccoon. Which is why people keep assuming you’re a raccoon, which is why you’re asking me now if you look like one.”

“Bloody hell,” he groans, puffs on a cigarette, fluffs his hair irritably, slurps a drink that is fizzy and sapphire blue.

“The problem is that you went with black and white. You should have dressed as a calico or something. Or a grey cat, oh, I love the chubby grey ones!”

“I’m a musician, darling, not a fucking zoologist.” He exhales a ring of smoke and meanders away.

Queen, the band’s associates, and various music industry figures are all milling around the night-draped mansion. It’s half a Halloween celebration and half a launch party for News Of The World, an album named for the tabloid that Roger both loathes and yet refuses to stop having delivered to the Surrey house. He can’t stand the thought of not being clued into the latest gossip, trends, fashion, awards, of missing any piece of what stardom has to offer. In the spirit of Halloween, Roger is dressed as a tiger, his sleeveless sequined shirt striped with orange and black. You are a veterinarian (not so far a cry from a nurse that you can’t repurpose your old uniform), John a shark (he’s taped a cardboard triangle to his back like a fin), Veronica a sea turtle in a teal dress and with a shell painted over her sizable baby bump, Brian and Chrissie both bright green aliens with antennae bobbing from their headbands. Mary is here as well—outfitted (quite appropriately) like an Enlightenment-era queen—but so is Freddie’s new boyfriend, a shy man named Anthony who is young and handsome and compliant and dressed as a mouse. Mary beams dutifully whenever Freddie is speaking to her, but her expression clouds over when he turns away. She no longer has a gold ring gleaming on her wedding finger, although she did gain an athletic blond date whom she seems largely indifferent to.

As Roger wanders through the crowd shaking hands and howling at jokes, you sip champagne by the snack table and devour an obscene amount of crab puffs. John and Veronica are chatting—unenthusiastically, from what you can tell—nearby with lamb kabobs in their grasps. John passes you a smirk every once in a while, an I’m so over this party and I know you are too smirk of commiseration, and nurses a Manhattan. Chrissie nibbles on disks of cucumber and baby carrots and not much else, which is very unlike her.

“You alright?” you ask worriedly. “You aren’t sick, are you? These crab puff things are incredible, I can’t stop eating them. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve had three dinners so far tonight, I’ve become a monster.”

Chrissie’s lips are a tight, humorless line. “I’m perfectly healthy, I’m just a cow.”

“Chris, honey, don’t!” You pat her shoulder reassuringly with one hand, pop another crab puff into your mouth with the other. “You’re gorgeous, and most women’s bodies change once they have babies, it’s natural!”

“Yeah, well most women aren’t married to men with infinite opportunities to upgrade.”

“Chrissie, no,” you murmur, pained; but you aren’t sure what else to say. She’s not wrong. I wish she was, but she isn’t. And she already knows that.

Dreams by Fleetwood Mac is playing from the reverberating stereo, Stevie Nicks’ sensuous, nasally voice climbing through air choked with strangers and cigarette smoke.

“Now here you go again

You say you want your freedom

Well, who am I to keep you down?”

Brian bids farewell to some record company executive he was talking to across the room and slips out onto the back porch of the house, and after a moment Chrissie follows him. You resist the temptation to eavesdrop until you can clearly hear their voices, raised and combative, through the sliding glass door. You glance to John, apprehensive.

You better go out there, he mouths, and so you do.

“Thunder only happens when it's rainin'

Players only love you when they're playin'

Say women, they will come and they will go

When the rain washes you clean, you'll know...”

Under cold October stars, Chrissie has trapped her horrified-looking husband, backed him into a fountain of a dolphin spewing an endless stream of water from its snout. “Did you think I wouldn’t listen to your own fucking album, Brian?!” She shrieks. “Who is she, huh? Who the fuck is she?!”

You grip her arm and try to lead her away. “Chrissie, babe, not here—”

“It’s Late, Brian? Yeah, it’s real fucking late in your life to still be chasing whores over in America while I’m building your family here, isn’t it?!”

“Love, please, it’s not true,” Brian attempts anemically, reaching for her.

“It is!” Chrissie rages. “It is and it always has been and I was too busy being some blind stupid idiot who loved you to see it!”

She breaks down in tears and you shove Brian away, shoo him back inside. You pitch him a fierce glare as he leaves, retreating like a kicked dog. There’s nothing you can do to fix this, you coward. Because everything she’s saying is true. Chrissie clings to you like a life raft, sobbing into your shoulder, asking what she did wrong.

“I’m sorry,” you tell her, over and over again; because that’s all there is to say.

Eventually Chrissie quiets, goes still and resigned and numb, and you help her fix her makeup and lead her back inside. You stand with her beside the snack table and swear not to leave her side until the party’s over, until the men are done celebrating yet another triumph that will take them further and further from home. Brian is nowhere to be found.

“That goddamn broodmare,” Chrissie hisses, gulping straight vodka, staring venomously at Veronica.

“Why do you hate her so much? I mean she can be dull, yeah. She’s sanctimonious and naïve and dresses like a freaking Mennonite. But she’s not horrible or anything.” And her life isn’t so perfect either.

“It’s not obvious?” Chrissie asks, her voice like a blade.

“No...?”

Chrissie’s eyes are scorching, although you’re not the person she’s furious with. You just happen to be standing in the path of the storm. “Because she’s the only one of us who’s never going to have to find out what this feels like.”

Oh, I don’t like that. I don’t like that at all.

You try to spot Roger in the teeming room. He’s over by a crackling fireplace, telling stories with dramatic sweeps of his hands, bleeding charisma like sweat, and none of that is unusual at all. One of the people he’s talking to is Dominique Beyrand, and that’s not so unusual either; Richard Branson ends up at a lot of industry events, and Dom trails him around like a shadow, nodding politely and contributing little chirps of conversation in that posh French accent.

But here’s the strange part; here’s the part you’ve never seen before.

When Roger flashes that dazzling smile of his, Dominique smiles back.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three days later, you’re steeping in a sweltering bubble bath as the phone rings downstairs. You ignore it at first, because the hot water is unraveling all the tension in your muscles and the lurking shadows in your mind, and also because the calendar is hanging right beside the phone in the kitchen and you’re quite committed to ignoring it this morning. But the phone rings again, and again, and you’re aware that it could be something serious; Roger is working on some non-Queen collaboration at a studio in downtown London, and something could have happened to him.

Especially considering his recreational preferences lately.

You scramble out of the tub, pull on a robe that sticks uncomfortably to your dripping skin, leave a path of bathwater footprints down the hallway and steps—slipping twice and clinging to the banister for dear life—before finally careening into the kitchen to snatch the phone off the wall.

“Hello?” you gasp, winded.

It’s not Roger, nor someone calling to inform you that Roger has overdosed or disappeared or vaulted down a staircase or been hit by a bus. It’s Chrissie.

“Have you seen the News Of The World yet?” she demands.

“Ummm, the album...?” Of course I’ve listened to the album. About a million times. You have a particular affinity for Spread Your Wings.

“No, not the album,” she snaps impatiently, although she kindly leaves out the you idiot addition that her tone implicates. “The magazine. Have you seen it today?”

“I was mid-bubble bath and almost broke my neck sprinting for the phone. So no.”

“Good. Don’t read a word. Don’t talk to anyone. I’m coming over. I’m gonna grab John and come right over.”

“Chris, what—?”

“Do not touch that fucking magazine!” she screams, and hangs up.

Naturally, you don’t listen.

You go to the main door of the Surrey mansion and open it. Sure enough, the new issue of News Of The World is waiting on the porch for you. You pluck it up with damp hands; the whirlpools of your fingerprints stick to the parchment.

On the front page is a photo of Roger, but he’s not alone. He’s scowling at the paparazzo snapping the picture, his face lit up by the flash, painfully and unmistakably stunning. He’s in some sort of alley or side entrance to a restaurant or club. He’s somewhere he’s trying not to be seen, which anyone could tell you is remarkable for Roger Taylor. Beside him is a woman you recognize; and although she’s looking down and trying to hide behind her shock of lustrous black hair, you can see her lips are smiling.

The headline reads: “Queen Drummer Spends Royally on London Love Nest for French Mistress.”

[horansqueen]

You & Me : chapter 23

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

Sequel to AM CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his. -4.9k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

- notes: its a bit longer. and i hope its not too much or too exaggerated? anyway, you tell me. i really want to know what you really think, thank you!

if you want to be on the list of blogs i notify when this is updated, just message me :)

requests! : only one, no spoiler :)

Chapter 23 : His chapter

NIALL

I woke up with dried tears and the sun peaking through the curtains. I had no idea what time it was but Olivia was still pressed against me and I was holding her close, as if we hadn't moved at all during the night. I moved my face in her hair, smelling the honey and vanilla scent, before leaving a kiss on top of her head. She moaned low and moved closer, rubbing her nose on my neck.

"Mm, Niall." she whispered, making my lips curl.

I didn't know how she'd ever marry an other man after everything we went through and I didn't want to believe I was just some sort of friend with benefits that she used to have a 'fun time' before marrying someone else and spending her life with him. That was not the type of things she did and there was no way this made any sense. She didn't mention it, though, and  didn't want to put any kind of pressure on her. She knew how I felt and I'd keep telling her until she'd make it clear she didn't want to hear it anymore.

"'Morning, petal. How did you sleep?" I asked, keeping my voice very low.

"With your song in head." she admitted just as low, leaving small kisses on my neck. "You really wrote that for me?"

I opened my eyes  and pressed my cheek on top of her head. "I was not expecting to see you at the bakery that day, but if I had known, I would have expected my feelings for you to be exactly that. I knew I was still in love with you, Olivia. I knew when I broke up with you, and I knew all the time we were not together."

We remained quiet and I felt her fingers on my back, holding me against her, as if i wanted to move away anyway. Her warm and naked body against mine felt so good I could have stayed in this position all day.

"If you were always in love with me, Niall, why did you leave me?" she asked low, her voice almost cracking. "Why was everything else so important? Why did you need to be single and fuck around? Why wasn't I enough?"

I closed my eyes tight again and swallowed hard. Her questions were legit and my answers were sad. I squeezed her harder against me and licked my lips, trying to find the right words.

"I was selfish, and stupid. Honestly, Olivia, a big part of me knew you were unhappy. You were always hurt by stuff online or by the things I did and said. I felt like you wanted out and that eventually you'd end up hating me and leaving anyway. I left because your heart was in this relationship but your head was driving you insane."

She pulled away and her eyes met mine. She was frowning, her lips parted, and she shook her head.

"What?" she whispered, making me close my eyes again and sigh. "You're either trying to put this on me or you're literally telling me that you left because you thought that's what I wanted. I mean, you don't get to make that decision for me, Niall."

"I know, I mean I should have told you but-" she pulled away from me and sat in bed before rubbing her eyes. "I mean, Liv, It's true, you were miserable with me."

"Maybe because you kept flirting with every fucking girl you met!"

She got up and grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a shirt and something twisted in my stomach when I realized she hadn't picked the one I was wearing the day before. She was pissed, or hurt... or both.

"I know, I know I was wrong. I would never do that again."

"Well, I don't know if I believe you." she let out, grabbing her phone and getting out of the room.

I sighed and got up too, putting pretty much the same outfit as her and following her to the kitchen as she grabbed a water bottle in the fridge and started drinking from it.

"Olivia, I haven't flirted with anyone since.. I can't remember, but it's been months."

"What about in a year, Niall? When you'll be tired of me. When you'll be tired that I'm the only one you get to see naked, the only one you get to fuck. What will happen, then?"

Her tone was harsh and I swallowed the lump in my throat as I stared at her. I could understand how she felt, and at the same time, I knew she was aware that I was not the same man than I used to be.

"That will never happen again. Never." I let out seriously. "I will never get tired of you."

Her eyes softened for a few seconds but she quickly frowned again.

"Anyway that's not the point, you took a decision for me and you should have talked to me about it instead. You can't decide what I want or what I should do!"

"You're right, I can't. But don't you feel better now? You worked so much on yourself, you grew up and matured for the better, and I did too. I love to see you so confident about yourself, look what you accomplished! You have your own tv show, you do something you love and you get paid for it. You're so balanced and you look so happy and you love yourself!" I argued, taking a step closer.

"Okay, do you want me to thank you for it? Thank you, Niall, for breaking my heart."

Her voice was not as harsh and I felt like she knew I was right. I shook my head and sighed, daring to take an other step closer.

"No, you have only yourself to thank. You're the one who did all that. You owe it only to you. And you're right, I was a selfish prick and the fact that you weren't happy with me just comforted me in choosing my freedom over you." I explained gently. "But I love you. I changed. I want to show you that I changed."

She sighed and I was getting mad. I was not really mad at her, I was more mad at myself for not being able to express myself properly, and for the way I acted when we dated. I was pissed because she was right, and because her pain was legit. I was mad because I wanted her back and because I was scared our day was ruined.

"Well love is not everything, remember? It takes more than that." she pointed out roughly. "A lot more."

I felt something explode inside me, like a mix of anger and pain that I was unable to keep inside anymore and I shook my head roughly, throwing my arms up.

"If I could I'd take it back okay!" my voice was loud but I could feel sobs threatening to come out.

"Take what back?" she asked with an annoyed tone.

"That stupid break-up!" I admitted just as loud. "That fucking ridiculous break-up! I'd take it back in a heartbeat if I could! I'd erase it from our history forever! I regret it! It's the biggest regret of my life!"

Her eyes got bigger and her lips parted slightly. She seemed so surprised by my words that it calmed her immediately. I watched her lick her lips slowly, trying to keep my own tears in.

"If you hadn't broken up with me, Niall, you wouldn't know that." she started, this time in a low and soft voice. "You'd still be unsure of what you want, you wouldn't know if you really loved me. You had to lose me to realize that you actually wanted me. Do you see the irony, Niall? Do you realize how fucked up it is?"

I sighed again and walked to her, grabbing a chair and sitting down at the table, my elbows on the table and my face in my hands. I didn't want to fight with her, and I knew we could have a discussion without fighting. I breathed in and out a few times and when I felt calm, I opened my eyes again. She was sitting in front of me and she seemed calm too now.

"It is. It's fucked up." I admitted, staring at her. "I don't know how to tell you how sorry I am, Olivia."

"I already forgave you for that, Niall." she pointed out gently. "I'm sorry for bringing it back."

I let my arms fall on the table and opened my hands, palms up. She looked down and nibbled on her bottom lip for a few seconds before placing her hands in mine.

"Heidi sent me that picture of you in a wedding dress to make us fight but we did it by ourselves." I just said with a sad chuckle.

"It's normal to fight, sometimes, as long as we know how to make up, too." she explained. "We're better at this, aren't we?"

The left corner of my lips raised up. "We were never bad at it, but we're even better now, it's true."

I squeezed both her hands before letting go of one and grabbing the other with both of mine. I turned her hand so her palm was facing up and ran the tip of my forefinger on it gently. After a few seconds, she quivered slightly and my lips curled more. I loved having an effect on her.

"We're gonna have to talk about what we did when we were apart." I finally said, still staring at her hand.

I couldn't help but think about what Heidi told me and for some reason, I wanted to prove her wrong, even if she would never know. Olivia was not the kind of person to push me away for my mistakes. She never did it, and I felt like she never would. She didn't judge anyone and she always tried to make you feel better when you felt at your worst. I didn't want to believe that the bad decisions I took while we were apart would just ruin what we could have now and at the same time, I felt like she deserved to know before anything serious happened between us, if it was ever going to happen.

Her fingers slipped out of my hands as she brought her arms back to her and it made me look up. She was avoiding my gaze and it made me frown. Didn't she want to know what I did without her? Or was she just too scared to be hurt by my behavior that just thinking about that discussion made her feel bad?

"Not now, okay?"

I frowned, a bit surprised by how she literally closed up completely in front of me. It was so sudden that I realized maybe the problem was not what she was going to hear, but more what she was going to say.

"It's important, you know."

She shut her eyes tight and nodded. "I know."

I waited for her to open her eyes again but she didn't and I reached for her wrist over the table. "There's a fair in town, you want to go?"

Her eyes finally fluttered open and her lips curled a bit before she nodded. I realized she was uncomfortable with the discussion I wanted to have but I couldn't help but think it was needed. I was ready to wait but we couldn't push this discussion back forever, and I wanted her to hear it from me and not from anyone else.

"Okay, let's get ready then."

Her smile got bigger and she nodded again before getting up and going back to my room. I got up too and watched her leave, taking her water bottle and swallowing what was left it in. I was not the type to worry but this time, i felt curious and a bit scared. I was nervous to tell her about what I had done but I felt like she was keeping some things to herself too and although she didn't have to tell me what it was, I hoped she would.

When I got back to my room, I heard the shower and smiled despite myself. Without thinking, I took my clothes off and joined her quickly. She chuckled when she saw me but didn't tell me to leave and I quickly took the shampoo, rubbing it in her hair as she closed her eyes, a smile still gracing her lips.

"Your hair's gonna smell like my shampoo now." I said in a low tone. "Makes me sad. I prefer the way it smells normally."

She laughed and her eyes met mine when she opened them before shaking her head.

"Here's a secret I can tell you, Niall James Horan." she started, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "It's not my shampoo that has that smell."

My eyes opened wide and I chuckled low. "It's not?" she shook her head more. "What is it, then?"

This time, she just raised her nose up and took some foam from her hair only to wipe it on the tip of my nose. I raised it up and groaned, making her burst into laughter. She took a step back and let her head fall back to rinse her hair. I stared at her wet body for a few seconds before taking the shampoo again and washing my own hair.

We got prepared and left and this time, we took my car. We stopped at a restaurant to eat even if it was in the middle of the afternoon and ended at the fair a bit after 5. We could already see the sun setting and I realized time always passed fast when I was with her. I motioned to grab her hand without thinking but stopped right on time. It made my heart jump in my chest and I just turned my face to her to send her a smile.

"I like when you wear a cap." she just said, grabbing the front and pulling it down.

I took it off to put it back correctly and she laughed right before apologizing. I was happy to be there with her and I just hoped I wouldn't be recognized. It would just be incredibly nice to walk around holding hands and not holding inside all the affection we felt for each other but at the same time, I knew it was risky for her. Anyway, I was never the one who enjoyed PDA, even if I had derogated from my own rule a few times with her.

"I like when you wear a smile." I replied.

Her traits softened and her head tilted. Her smile turned into a fond one and just for that look, it was worth saying that cheesy line.

"I almost forgot how well you can sweet talk women."

This time, I laughed. "You know that's a lie."

"You're not as awkward as you think you are, Nee." she pointed out with a laugh as she walked towards a booth. "But I admit that your good look helps a lot."

This time, I laughed louder. "Glad you finally admit it." I joked as she quickly ordered cotton candy.

I reached for her hand with one of mine while the other searched through my pants. I handed the guy a bill and didn't send a glance to my ex girlfriend. I knew she was staring at me but I just thanked him and turned around as she followed me.

"I can pay for my own shit." she pointed out as I saw her lick her lips from the corner of my eyes. "But thank you. I also almost forgot how much of a gentleman you are. Well, in public, because in the bedroom you're-"

"Oh god stop!" I laughed, turning to her this time and noticing the large smile on her face.

She laughed too and I rolled my eyes as we walked to an other booth. No matter what we did together, it was always fun and it made me realize just how bad I wanted to really be with her again.

"So if I win you this pink bear right there, are you gonna sleep with it?" I asked with a smirk.

She tilted her head but moved her chin up and I kept looking at her as her eyes got smaller. She brought her finger and tapped her chin a few times, pretending to think and I rolled my eyes again at how dramatic she could get. I should have known she'd be a good actress.

"Yea definitely." she finally replied with a nod. "He'll sleep right between us so I can cuddle with him."

I raised my eyebrows and my head moved back. "Well in that case, I think we're just gonna try a few rides and leave him here."

I put my hands in my pockets and pretended to leave until she reached for my arm. "Noo, no, I will leave him on the nightstand when I'm with you."

I stopped and smiled big, amused by her behavior and finally turned back to her before nodding slowly. "Alright."

It took me 3 tries but I finally got it and handed it to her. Her smile got bigger and I could swear I saw a hint of red on her cheeks but I didn't mention it. She grabbed it and held it close to her as she was nibbling her bottom lip and she mumbled a 'thank you' that made me chuckle.

"You could have just paid to get it you know." she pointed out after a few seconds. "It would have costed you a few dollars but you didn't have to really play the game."

"Wouldn't have been the same would it?" I shrugged, sending her a wink. "Wouldn't have been as romantic." I made a pause. "And cheesy."

She laughed and my heart jumped in my chest, almost escaping from my throat. She kept the damn bear with her in all the rides, holding it between her thighs and even if she was not a big fan of rides, we did a few gentle ones. It's only when it was really dark outside that I noticed how she was looking at all the lights. She grabbed her phone and started taking pictures before turning to me and snapping one of me. It took me by surprise but I pulled her closer and grabbed her phone before taking a selfie of us. I took a look at it and held my breath when I looked at her. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were shut tight and her nose was up, and it reminded me of a selfie she had sent me when we were dating and I was traveling Asia. I quickly sent myself the picture from her phone and handed it back to her.

We remained in silence and kept walking. I had to leave my hands in my pockets to make sure I wouldn't just bring her close to me and when she pointed the ferris wheel, I raised my eyebrows at her.

"I thought I was cheesy but you're the queen."

"How about you be me king and come with me? I'd love to kiss you without anyone seeing." she admitted in a very low tone. "You in?"

"People normally go there for the incredible sight we get at the top."

"I have an incredible sight right here, in front of me." she confessed, making me chuckle. "Please, Niall."

I was just playing with her, there was nothing I wanted more than to kiss her at the exact moment, and it seemed like it took forever until we were at the top. I watched the dark sky and all the neon lights around the fair for a few seconds before turning to her and quickly kissing her. I felt all my body relax, like I had been waiting for this moment all day, and when she whimpered in my mouth, I groaned too, holding her cheeks with both my hands. When we started going back down, I stopped kissing her but leaned my forehead against hers, still cupping her face. We finally got out of the ride and that's when trouble started. I noticed someone take a picture and my heart skipped a beat.

"What the..."

"What's wrong?"

"Fuck, Liv, we have to go." I whispered, grabbing her arm gently and leading her to the exist as quick as I could.

I glanced behind us until we were in my car and started it, driving away from that place and looking in the rear view mirror a few times. I only relaxed when I was sure we were not followed and noticed she was staring at me, her head leaned on the seat.

"I'm sorry." I let out with a sad smile.

"Are you doing this for me?" she asked, blinking a few times and ignoring my apology. "I mean I know you don't like to be seen in public and pictures being taken and all, but did you leave quickly like that because I'm supposed to marry someone else and you were scared people would talk shit?"

"Mostly, yea." I just admitted as I brought my eyes back on the road.

We remained silent for a few minutes and I had no idea what was going on in her head until I heard her voice again.

"I love you, Niall Horan."

                                                ----

We were exhausted when we came back to my place and I just rushed to the kitchen to pour us two glasses of white wine. She followed me, putting her pink bear on the table as I handed her a glass. She drank half of it but she weirdly seemed serene and calm. I thought she'd go crazy knowing that someone had taken a few pictures of us but she didn't seem to care at all. It's not like she was not used to it but at the same time, she never liked it and it always bothered her, making her current behavior even more intriguing.

"Okay, tell me, I'm ready." she just said after exhaling deeply. I frowned at her and she pressed her lips together. "Tell me what you did that's so horrible while we were away from each other."

In the morning, she was the one who didn't want to talk about it and now, it was me. Perhaps I just didn't want to ruin such a perfect day. I pulled a chair and let myself fall on it but instead to sit in front of me, she sat at the end of the table and turned her chair sideways to face me. I took my glass and moved it a bit only to watch the pale liquid move in it.

"I slept with some girls before I started dating Heidi, but I couldn't find what I was looking for until I met this girl at a bar. She was shaped like you, had your hair color and your smile and in the dark, she could have been you, you know? I just... I let out your name while we were fucking and maybe I had to pay her to keep her mouth shut."

"Are you... sure she was not just a prostitute?"

I looked up at her with a small smile. "No."

"Oh." she pressed her lips together. "Was she as good as me?"

I chuckled sadly and shook my head. "No one is."

I remained silent for a minute or two, trying to make sense of my thoughts before continuing.

"I tried a few drugs. You know it was never my type but I needed to sort of... get away. One time Heidi had to pick me up at your old apartment because I was hitting the door and screaming your name in the middle of the night but you had already moved out." I scoffed at myself, I couldn't believe how pathetic I had been. "I'm not gonna get into details but I also started a fight in a pub. Just hit some arsehole that said something about you."

"What about me..."

"Something sexual that's clearly not worth repeating."

"It seems like you did many things that were out of character." she said cautiously. "But that's what you wanted, right? Try new things and just live your life? Why do you regret it?"

"Because nothing was worth losing you, Olivia." I admitted a little louder, looking up in her eyes as her face softened again. "I was miserable. I was a pathetic piece of shit. I know you probably think low of me now but I just, I had to tell you."

Her eyes dropped slowly to her lap and she nibbled on her bottom lip nervously. I waited, feeling suddenly anxious, scared that she'd just get up and leave, or tell me that she couldn't go on with me, but when she sniffed and rubbed her fingers on her nose, I realized she was crying.

"I remember when I saw the first picture of you and Heidi online. The article said you two were dating now and she was kissing you." she let out in a very low tone without looking at me. "I was alone at home and I started crying. It made me realize that it was really over, it made me believe that you were over me, that the problem was not that you wanted to be single, but just that you didn't want to be with me. I cried so hard I couldn't see straight and I just... I went to the bathroom and I..." she sighed and swallowed again, closing her eyes this time. "I just swallowed all the fucking pills I found. I swallowed them all and lied down on the floor for so long I couldn't keep track of time. All I can remember is the tiles being very cold and the stomachache. It was so intense I couldn't move and It was literally the only thing that stopped me from falling asleep."

I listened to her as my eyes watered. I felt nauseous but I just swallowed hard, feeling a big lump on my throat. I could barely believe what I was hearing. I hadn't heard anything about that and to me, she always seemed so happy when she was out with my friends, even after we broke up, it was hard to believe she was sad enough to do something like that.

"Louis found me. I remember he let out so many curse words, even for him. He searched for something but couldn't find anything to make me throw up so he just sat me up in front of the toilet and pushed his fingers down my throat. Nothing had ever hurt me like that. I think I threw up for a solid ten minutes." she added, shaking her head, her eyes still closed. "Then he called his doctor and he drove me there."

I was crying. I had actual tears rolling down my cheeks but I couldn't move. I felt angry and hurt but also extremely guilty.

"Why the fuck did you do that, Olivia?" my voice was a simple murmur and I swallowed again. The lump was so big that it hurt. "Do you... did you think about how sad everyone would have been, including me? You would have left me alone in this stupid world without you?"

This time, she looked up at me and I noticed she was crying too. When she saw my tears, her face changed but she just licked her lips and sniffed.

"You left me first."

Slowly, I got up, feeling very weak, my legs wobbling slightly. I knelt in front of her and put my hands on her knees, looking up in her eyes. I had been so close to lose her forever and I didn't even know. Why didn't anyone tell me? Why didn't Louis tell me anything?

"I don't want you to ever do that again, you hear me?" I tried to be firm but my voice cracked as I kept crying and suddenly, I burst into tears, leaning my forehead on her thigh. "Don't you fucking do that ever again." I added, my mouth pressed on her jeans.

I felt her hand slide gently in my hair and the contact of her skin with mine was soothing. I turned my head to lean my cheek on her thigh and catch some air as both of my hands gripped her tight.

"I'll never do it again, Niall. I was depressed, I took antidepressants after that, and I survived this." she explained low.

"Promise me, Olivia." I asked before looking up at her. "Look me in the eyes and promise me you will never fucking do that again, no matter what happens."

She held her breath and I knew she was on the verge of tears too. She finally nodded and I gripped her thighs harder.

"I promise, Niall. " she breathed. "I swear on my love for you."

[pinkysfaultorbrainsfault]

animaniacs - s1e54: brain meets brawn

episode summary: the boys live with dr jekyll for some reason, so rather than mind his own business, brain decides to drink all of the Potion That Makes You Hulk Out without considering the potential consequences.

as usual.

the rundown:

we open at dr jekyll’s house.

again, you can tell it’s dr jekyll’s house because it has his name written on it. this time, he has a fancy sign on a stick so everyone can see it from the street. convenient! especially if he is a doctor? i don’t know lol. i don’t think it ever specifies. maybe he just has a doctorate in Being Large and Green with no regards to the practice of medicine.

homeboy looks weirdly like granny from looney tunes. maybe that’s what the potion is for? instead of hyde, it just turns him into a grandma. that would be fun!

oh. well. my mistake.

maybe this was some kind of experiment? i don’t know. honestly, i don’t remember why jekyll makes the serum in the first place. presumably, he has the antidote on the table too, but, uh.

yeah. RIP that, or whatever. give it a rest, you oversized muppet, you’re scaring the mice.

(there are, as per The Course, mice here.)

“egad”, says our resident Exposition Pinky, “dr jekyll has turned himself into that fearsome mr hyde again, brain.” for all of his personal worry, though, brain doesn’t seem too bothered, and instead decides to make this all about himself, as usual.

“yes, pinky. if only i could find a way to use that savage strength.”

delightful! the closeups are back. unfortunately, it soon pans away from Two Inches From Brain’s Face to highlight the rest of the plot of the episode.

phweeeet. i’m not entirely sure why the police are here. maybe they just heard a table getting knocked over and broke into the guy’s house. going around bothering people for minor loud noises and doing absolutely nothing about real crime or people in danger does sound a bit like what our police like to do.

“ere, that’s the brute! take im!”

hm. in the background, big ben chimes Four Bong, and the carnage immediately ceases.

“four o clock! tea time!”

“scone?”

“delighted.”

that’s just how things work over here, i guess.

eventually, they manage to haul him off, with a “roight, it’s jayel for you, mister hyde”

leaving the mice alone to contemplate.

i don’t blame them. i would be contemplating too, on account i have no idea what the fuck just happened. he drank the potion of Summoning The Police, i guess? why did he drink it? why did they just turn up? we literally don’t see him again.

while pinky ponders whether kids would still buy them if they were called Sad Meals (and i know i would, but i doubt mcdonalds existed back then) brain has more pressing observations.

“the british are obsessed with tea time, pinky. everything stops when big ben strikes four.”

and what a slanderous observation it is! excuse me brain?

EXCUSE ME.

HOW VERY DARE YOU.

HOW VERY VERY okay yeah actually you’re probably right.

anyway brain’s plan is to stop big ben at 4pm so it’ll be Forever Teatime and he can take over the british empire while everyone is having tea.

AND THEN THE WORLD we get two weird closeups in this episode.

“but you’d have to be some kind of hulking, muscular giant to stop that clock, brain.”

“exactly. as they say in rustic circles, bottoms up.”

(hoo hoo. it’s funny because he’s stood on the pyrex jug, which is tall, so he himself is tall, and also “up”, and also he’s yknow what never mind.)

GLOG.

pinky’s over there immediately, as soon as brain gets down* asking if he’s okay or if he feels anything strange.

*yknow, as opposed to up.

he kind of gets in brain’s face about it until brain loses his patience and tells pinky that he is angering him, and would he please--

DONK.

“naaaaaaaarf.”

there he is! the big boy. as a sidenote, i’ve only actually seen his design in.... fanart. this is the first time i’ve watched this episode! i love how he still has a red nose for no reason. it does not fit the colour scheme at all.

(i speak directly to the patb discord: do not make this weird for me.)

anyway his first course of action is apparently to smash a table over pinky’s head for no reason.

BRUH. WHAT ARE YOU DOING.

pinky squeaks out a “sorry i angered you, brain.” which is sad, but

seems to have an effect.

anyway, from that they work out that brain Gets Large when he is made angry, and then Unlarges when the person who made him angry apologises.

“anger me, pinky!”

“but zounds, brain, i don’t want tooooo.”

“PINKY.”

DONK.

see? works a treat.

so with that figured out, the lads bugger off to big ben.

but first, pinky requests that they make the bells play john jacon jingleheimer schmidt.

conclusion:

they do have some trouble getting there.

“look brain! that cloud looks like a big pomegranate!”

donk.

brain does not have a lot of patience, as should be obvious. still, even Larged Out, brain has enough mental fortitude to head to the main entrance to big ben instead.

“americans.”

brain takes this as an insult, and pinky narrowly manages to stop him from just straight up murdering those dudes.

they are, however, thoroughly knocked out, so the mice consider this a victory and sneak in.

it’s big.

like, i’ve never been to big ben, but if it’s open to tourists it can’t just be a big room with a massive death pendulum in it, surely? maybe the victorians cared less about health and safety.

the mice are also less bothered about this than i am, apparently. “there it is, pinky. the main wheel of big ben.” stop that and you stop the world, apparently. HE WHO CONTROLS THE TEATIME CONTROLS ALL OF BRITAIN ok he doesn’t say that. he does, however, maintain that he can stop the gears as Large Brain if pinky then goes and dislodges the pallette.

“now, make me mad.”

“HEY YOU. DUMBDUMB.”

“come on, you can do better than that.”

“YOUR MOTHER IS-- OLDER. THAN YOU.”

“pinky! try harder, quickly--”

DONK.

epic.

so pinky goes to dislodge the pallette.

“ NO̡ P̵IN͘K̸Y͞,͜ ̢T͜H͟E̷ ͞PA̧L҉LETT̢E̛.” brain is still surprisingly coherent in Large Mode, though, compared to hyde. huh. maybe it’s because he’s a smartboy or something.

“oops, haha, sorry brain.”

oh no.

oh dear.

oh fuck.

hickory dickory bonk lol.

“oh, i’m sorry brain.” says pinky, who already knows which way the tally is going, and holds his arms out for a hug.

donk.

well isn’t this an interesting development.

“egad, brain. i don’t mean to keep saying i’m sorry.”

i feel bad for giving pinky this, because really it’s more social conditionning than his deliberate fault. still, the episode ends with pinky repeatedly smacking brain in the head to attempt to reLarge him, so it’s not all bad.

brain: 3 pinky: 5 outside influence: 5

“once we enter big ben, i’ll use my physical prowess to stop the wheel, while you dislodge the pallette and disrupt the intrinsic mechanism.”

“what if that doesn’t work?”

“we’ll...... throw a big wrench in it.”

[blue-eyedangel21]

I’m sorry..

So I wrote a whole essay yesterday only for tumblr to be really stupid and I lost it. Anyways, I came to write out my feelings and my thoughts before being done with this tumblr.  I've mentioned this tumblr to you before and you didn't care enough to even look at it for yourself. So I'm sure me typing all this is a huge waste of time but its worth losing this amount of time to let out everything I need to, to move on. It's time I put this all in my past. So we tried again recently.  And I fucked it up. Because that's all I've been doing for years now.  I'm really sorry, truly, for how i behaved and lashed out on you. It's not okay how I handled that situation.  But I have told people time and time again that I am NOT doing well mentally or emotionally. And I was not kidding nor exaggerating, as you had to find out the hard way. I did try to calm myself down when I was mad and said how I felt and what I thought at first in the most calm way I knew how then you proceeded to be an asshole and talk to me sideways. So I lost my shit. You had the opportunity to see my ugly"asshole" side.  You say I can't handle yours  when I dealt with it for a year, but you couldn't handle mine after ONE time of lashing out on you. I did NOT ghost you. I told you in the voice clip, that I was done. YOU said you weren't listening to it. So therefore it was your fault that you didn't know i was done. Your fault that you didn't take the time to hear what I had to say and went around saying I ghosted you. In that moment of anger, I was done with you. But of course like always after my anger and feelings have calmed down, I felt like shit and regretted how I behaved and the stupid decisions I make when I'm upset. So in all of that out of control emotion, I lost you. And IT IS MY FAULT. And yes I do regret it. But what is done is done. I admitted to being the problem.  But im not all of what was wrong in that relationship.  You too had issues of your own that you did not hold yourself accountable for. And I dont find it fair that I had no problem admitting I was the issue and holding myself accountable for that and my behavior. However I rarely ever heard you own up to your shit. So I'm not taking all the blame but I can take most of it because some of it was me too and not just you. But I bet you are okay with me taking the blame for all of it. The constant leaving you was not because I wanted to but because of how you made me feel. Yet I felt like I couldn't live with you, I also couldn't live without you. And that was the confusing part. Why i probably kept going back and forth. I never felt this way about anyone . I never felt like I couldn't live with them but I couldn't live without them either. You have disrespected me many times and I bit my tongue and said nothing. My whole life I've been around drama and bullshit and narcissistic abuse.. so I dont know how to be confrontational in a healthy way or how to communicate effectively without feeling like im always the problem or im wrong or my feelings are wrong. And etc. It's hard to explain but a lot of that has to do with what I had to deal with growing up and still somewhat dealing with it as an adult. So im trying to break myself from bad, unhealthy, toxic behaviors and habits. So thats why im still doing and reacting the way i am. I am 25 years old and still dealing with that shit, its not part of my past yet, but it will be. So thats just explaining why I'm like this, not excusing it.  So the times I left were mostly YOUR fault. But you also left at least  2 times too..so it isn't all me. Every time I would for sure leave you alone, youd come running back. Just when I thought I could move on here you were. And sometimes I was the one running back. Like I said i was confused. But im not running back this time. I'm not gonna reach out to you. I dont hate you nor do I love you any less. I still love you with all of my heart and that hasn't changed nor will it ever even if that has changed for you because of how I've hurt you. But for me this is speaking my truth. And thsts the truth. I'm sorry that i threw everything we were trying to build together, in the garbage over an argument and because of my emotions and my mental health being so terrible. If I could go back and change that I would but we are better off going our separate ways. I'm sorrh I had to block you but I had to block Sierra too. I do not appreciate her posts. Feel what she may but what I wrote was honest and wasn't just about you but about others I've hurt along the way. You are not the only one. I don't care that she feels that way or if she doesn't like me anymore. She's not in my shoes nor are you, to understand or try to understand. I already admitted to being the issue so if she didn't like what I posted on my fb she could've just deleted and blocked me. But instead of reacting in a bad way i deleted and blocked her because i dont need negativity when im trying to heal and move on. I dont need her judgmentYou sent19 minutes agoNor do I need yours. You are always gonna see me as the bad guy and that's fine. But im no longer looking at myself that way. I'm seeing a woman who is trying to break herself from toxic ways and toxic behavior but is struggling to do it while also going through a lot of shit. Im flawed just like you..I'm not perfect. Not even close to it. I've been understanding and patient and always trying to see your perspective and its never really been a two ways street with you. You expect that from me but don't expect to give it back. And I'm tired of that. Been tired of that. I put it in alot of effort to make shit work when I was trying to fix things but I got tired, Bee. I didn't take you seriously because every time I tried to i didnt feel like you were taking it seriously enough to change your ways and your lifestyle. I wanted you to work so you had an income to better yourself and your future and also to help tatianna with Julian. As a single mom it is hard to take care of a kid by yourself and I wanted you to try to help her financially at least.  And not only a job but to stop drinking because I don't want you to end up in a coffin at such a young age. And to leave behind your son. How fair is that to Julian?  I love you, bee. I never want anything bad to happen to you even if you don't believe that. You're the only one who doesn't see how much i love you or how bad you have had an emotional toll on me. For some reason you're blinded by all of that. You say i didn't love you but if i hadn't I would've been done with you the very first time we broke up in November . But no I fell hard for you and put a lot of effort and love into us only for us to fall apart. So.. I hope you know i wanted a family with you too. I wanted to wake up next to you and my daughter,  and one day maybe. Not just my daughter. But a child of our own. With big blue eyes and curly hair.. that looked like you. I wanted a lil boy that looked like you with my eyes and hair and your face.  I wanted that more than i could tell you. I never could tell you that because i got embarrassed.  But I wanted that, with you. Not anyone else and now i feel like that I don't want another relationship.  Nor do i want to even bother starting over with someone else and feeling like this again. I don't even care anymore. Im so drained and exhausted. You were the love of my life. I fucked it up and now the bed I made, I have to lay in. So yeah you get the satisfaction of knowing I'm hurting and regretting what I did. But I get the satisfaction of never allowing myself to make this mistake again with another person and to focus on my issues with myself so I don't bring this kind of baggage and problems into my future relationships.  So maybe it's for the better that we move on. Maybe one day you can forgive me  enough to not hate me and maybe if I'm lucky enough to at least call you my friend.  I loved you like I've never loved anyone and it is hard to write without crying but I know that sometimes life is pain and heartbreak and that if we were ever meant to be than maybe somewhere down the road we could rekindle a friendship or more but maybe the timing is off and you were my right person but wrong time. . Maybe you'll come back...maybe you won't but please know you had my heart like no others. I felt that in my soul.  I felt it when I looked at you. When I thought about you. When i talked about you. When I looked in your eyes. When you smiled or laughed. When you were doing whatever and I was just staring at you. With every kiss. Every moment in your arms. When you were sleeping so peacefully.  When you were being you, I felt like i was home and I cant tell you the last time i felt that way. It was when my grandma was alive. So to find someone who was even close to feeling like home is a serious misfortune to lose like this. And losing you and this relationship will be a grieving process for me. I had to lose the one thing that brought me happiness, wholeness and love. So I'm heartbroken it has come to this because of my actions. But I love you Bee. Please take care of yourself.

[eldritchsurveys]

834.

How have you been feeling lately? Have you been doing ok? >> Eh. As long as nothing unpredictable happens, I’m mostly fine... but I’ve also had at least two meltdowns in the past week, so “mostly fine” is obviously a cover-up of some sort. I don’t really know what to do about it, so I am kind of just holding my breath through every day, hoping I don’t lose it over something trivial.

Are you currently in quarantine? >> No, the stay-at-home order has been lifted. Still not really going anywhere, though.

Do you wear a mask when you go to the store? >> We didn’t this past weekend, which I don’t feel great about, but I ordered a bandana yesterday so I’ll hopefully have it before this coming weekend.

Does your state require people to wear masks in stores? >> Well, they say they require it, but we were definitely not the only people in stores without masks on. So I don’t know what the deal is with that. I think maybe stores are weighing how much it’s worth having to deal with irate customers who can’t stand being turned away for not complying with the mask rule (Michigan is, after all, the state where armed protesters stormed the capitol building to harass the governor for extending the stay-at-home order...). Regardless, now that I will actually have a face covering next time, I’m going to use it.

Do you know anyone who's had the coronavirus? >> No.

What was the last sweet treat you ate? >> I ate part of a lemon coconut cookie.

Was it a nice day out today? >> It’s pretty nice, yeah.

Is the weather nice where you live usually? >> Usually? I wouldn’t say that. Winter lingers around here for a long time, and winter does not usually bring pleasant weather (in my opinion). Also, we get a lot of wacky lake-effect weather.

What was the last thing you ordered online? >> A bandana. It has a Baphomet on it, heh.

Are you expecting a package right now? >> Well, yeah, the bandana. Should be here Thursday or Friday (it’d better be, considering I paid extra for quicker shipping).

Have you ever ordered anything from Wish? If so, what did you buy, and did you feel it was worth it? >> I haven’t, but Sparrow’s ordered stuff from them. I think she likes everything she’s gotten (although she hasn’t gotten everything she’s ordered, which is annoying).

Are you a youtuber? If so, are you consistent with uploads? and how many subscribers do you have? >> I am not, nor would I ever be, a youtuber.

What is one thing you hate about summer? >> Heat waves. I like warmth, but too hot is too hot.

Did you go outside today? >> Not yet.

What is the name of your youtube channel, if you have one? >> ---

What was the name of the last store or restaurant that overcharged you? >> I can’t recall being overcharged anywhere.

Is your room more often messy or clean? >> On the cleaner side than the messier side.

Who is someone you miss? >> ---

What is something you miss? >> ---

Do you feel like your emotions are often haywire? >> I feel like that pretty frequently, yeah. I’m either having no emotions or having a veritable perfect storm of them, and I’d really like to find a fucking balance at some point.

Have you ever received a misdiagnosis from a doctor? >> I’ve mostly received misdiagnoses from doctors.

Have you ever been "diagnosed" with a mental illness from an online friend? who is not a doctor? If yes, isn't that frustrating? >> Nah, I’ve not had that experience.

Do you have any friends that you can trust and tell everything to? >> ---

What was the name of your favorite roommate you've had? >> ---

Do you have a favorite book that you've read multiple times? >> Yeah, there are a few books I’ve read multiple times.

What's one book or book series that you've read multiple times? >> I’ve read Dreamcatcher by Stephen King at least twice.

Have you ever had an embarrassing bathroom accident? >> Yeah.

What was the name of the funniest kid you've ever babysat? >> ---

Do you enjoy babysitting? >> Never done it.

Do you have any big regrets? >> No.

Are there things about your past that bother you? >> I mean... I’m post-traumatic, lmao.

What was the last thing you saw or read on social media that made you angry? >> That doesn’t really happen to me.

Do you often post about controversial topics on facebook? >> I don’t post on facebook at all.

Do you think it's a good idea to post about serious topics on social media? or do you think that it's better to discuss serious topics in person? >> I think that a lot of misunderstanding happens on social media that could possibly be avoided or at least worked through with more efficiency in person. I do say possibly, because like, who knows, really. But there are many discussions I wouldn’t bother getting into on social media (especially where other people can see it and jump in with their two cents), that I might be more willing to discuss one-on-one with a person in a controlled environment. Which is why I hate that people don’t use IM/DM functions more often for working through sensitive topics (like “I have a problem with something you said in [x] post and I would like to work it out with you” or whatever), instead of turning it into a public fucking debate.

What was your favorite book you had to read for school? >> Their Eyes Were Watching God.

Have you ever failed a class and had to repeat it? >> No, I got no credit for a class and had to repeat it.

What class in school did you hate the most? >> All of them lmao

Have you ever wanted to be a teacher? >> Fuck no.

What's one childhood dream that has stuck with you, and one that has not? >> ---

Would you want to re-live your childhood over again if you could? >> FUCK NO.

Which do you like more: being an adult or being a kid? >> I vastly prefer being an adult where I have at least some semblance of agency and control over my own life, instead of being subject to the whims of people who don’t actually care about what I want or need or feel but are mostly thinking about what they want out of me.

At what age were you when you started to feel like you were mature enough to offer others advice? >> I don’t recall having this thought, like, ever. I offer advice when someone’s asked for it and I feel like I have some to offer. I don’t give a fuck what my age is.

Did your parents smoke or drink when you were growing up? >> No.

Do you enjoy bonfires? >> Yes.

Have you ever stepped on a sparkler? >> No.

What, do you know of, are you allergic to? >> Nothing.

Have you ever ridden in an ambulence? >> Yep, front and back.

What is your favorite version of the Bible to read, if applicable? >> I prefer the NIV for just regular reading, but ngl, the KJV has some turns of phrase that can be really poetic-sounding in certain verses.

Do you follow trends? or are you a trendsetter? >> Literally neither. I just do what I want.

Has anyone ever described you as a trendsetter? >> No.

Do you know anyone who used to be loving, but then turned cold? List three people you've known whom this has happened to. >> I don’t know anyone like that, which is good, because that is definitely red-flag behaviour.

What SAT subjects, if any, did you get a perfect score in? >> ---

What were your best subjects in school? and what was your favorite subject in school? >> ---

Have you ever been abused by a parent or legal guardian? >> Yes.

Do you have a lot of wounds from your past? >> Nope. Not a single one.

Has anyone ever called you a jerk? >> Probably.

Are you a jerk? >> Probably.

What color were your bedroom walls in high school? >> I assume they were the Nothing(tm) colour that is standard in apartment complexes.

Is there a girl or guy you wish you hadn't let slip away? >> No.

Is there an old friend that you miss and would like to reconnect with? >> No.

Who has hurt you the most? >> Sigh.

Have you been bullied? >> Yes.

Which talent show, if any, would you most like to audition for? and have you auditioned for one? >> I would rather die.

Do you know anyone who's auditioned for American Idol? >> No, but I know someone who auditioned for X Factor, which is largely the same concept.

Is there someone you think should audition that hasn't yet? >> No. I don’t think anyone should audition for those stupid ass shows.

What time of day do you usually feel your best? >> There is no time of day when that’s likely to happen. It depends more on my actual mental state than what time of day it is.

What's one way in which you've changed within the last ten years? >> Oh, you know, stuff.

Do you feel like time goes by fast, or slow? >> To me, it just... passes?

Who do you know who has died of cancer? >> No one.

Has there been cancer in your family? >> I don’t know.

Have you ever stayed overnight in a hospital, and if so, what for? >> Yeah. For being suicidal, or for being self-injurious, or because people just plain thought it’d be a fun thing to do to me, I don’t fucking know.

Have you ever been a victim of police misconduct? >> No.

Have you ever been so angry you wanted to sue someone? >> That... would be such a strange response to being angry at someone. For me, anyway. I don’t know, maybe it makes sense to other people. I stick to Old Reliable -- wanting to beat them to a pulp or something.

Have you ever been a victim of racism? >> I mean, probably.

Have you ever deleted a friend on facebook for making racist comments? >> No. Luckily, that’s never happened to me.

What was the last thing you ate? >> Veggie burger and chips.

What was the theme of your senior prom? >> Damned if I remember, that was like 15 years ago.

Did you go to prom? >> Yeah.

Have ever been engaged or married? >> Yeah.

Are you an aunt or uncle? >> Technically.

Do you live to glorify God and to do His will? >> No.

Are you happy with the way you are living your life day-to-day right now? >> I mean, there are worse ways to live. At least I get to decide for myself what I do with my day.

Do you feel like your life was better or worse six years ago? >> It was definitely worse. That’s not even something to question.

Have you ever made a huge, catastrophic mistake? >> I don’t think any of my mistakes qualify for such a dramatic adjective.

What's one need of yours that is currently not being met? >> ---

Do you feel like you are currently in a state of suffering? and that not all of your basic needs are being met? If so, how long have you been in a state of suffering? >> Not that kind of suffering, no -- I’ve been in that state, where most of my basic needs were not at all being met, and I’m very grateful to not have to live like that anymore. Unfortunately, living like that for extended periods of time tends to have lasting effects, which is [part of] what I’m dealing with right now.

Do you hate social injustice? >> Nah, I love it. It’s just great. It’s the best thing ever--

Are you happy with the current social class you are in? >> I’m in that strange limbo where I, as an individual, am poverty-class, but since I am part of a household where the other person works a relatively okay job for a living, I get the benefits of being working-class. We’re still low-income by modern urban standards, though. Anyway, I’m fine with that for the most part, but that’s also because I’m used to being literally penniless so anything is better than that.

Do you feel like you are being given what you deserve right now? >> What the fuck do I deserve? What does that even mean? No one owes me anything.

Life isn't fair. True or false? >> I mean, true, I guess.

Do you hate that life is so unfair? >> I don’t really think about life that way. It’s people who have the option to be fair or unfair (and who have the option to perceive of things as fair or unfair); life is just... life.

Name a few people who seem to have everything handed to them. >> I don’t know anyone like that.

Who do you go to when you're upset? >> Can Calah.

Do you pray less or more than you did 5 years ago? >> I didn’t pray then and I don’t pray now, so... the same.

Do you pray a lot? >> No.

Do you frequently have back pain? >> No.

What's the worst side effect you've experienced for a medication? and what's the worst withdrawal effect you've experienced from a medicine? >> The last time I recall having side effects to medications is when I was being put on various psychiatric drugs as a teenager, but I don’t really remember any of the specifics except... being exhausted all the time (because I remember falling asleep in classes and being reprimanded for it like I’m doing it on fucking purpose).

Have you ever used an epi pen? >> No.

What's a name that you like but probably wouldn't use for one of your kids? >> ---

What's you name, and do you like it? >> Mordred. Of course I do.

Would you prefer to give your kids common names or unique names? >> ---

Do you feel like anybody values you in the way that you deserve? >> There’s that word deserve again. Anyway, yes, I’m sure someone values me well enough. Probably.

Who have you felt the most valued by? >> I guess Sparrow values me, or we wouldn’t be married. That’s how that works, right?

Have you ever been treated like you were inferior? >> Yes.

What was the name of the biggest bully in your high school? >> ---

Do you ever sleep outside? >> I’ve slept outside before, yes.

How many siblings do you have? >> ---

Are you the oldest, youngest, middle, or only child? >> I was raised as the only child in the household. I was the youngest of my father’s children.

How many kids do you want to have? >> Zero, ideally.

Do you want to get married? >> It’s already been done.

Best date you've been on? >> ---

Dream date? >> ---

Ever kissed someone on New Year's? >> Yeah.

Have you ever had an experience so good you felt like you were flying? >> Probably.

Have you ever been in so much pain you prayed that you would die? >> Yep.

What brings you the most joy? >> Uh... hmm. Good question. I’ll get back to you on that. Someday.

What is your passion; what is it that would bring you the most joy and fulfillment in life? >> I don’t think I have any passions.

Have you ever laid your dreams aside because someone else wanted you to? >> Well, fortunately for everyone else, I don’t really have any dreams.

Who supports you in everything you do? >> Sparrow is pretty supportive when I bother to do stuff.

Who always tries to stop you whenever you try to go after your dreams? >> ---

Do you believe in following your heart, in going after your dreams? >> I think that if someone has a dream, then sure, they should try to see it through. But I also think that sometimes it just ain’t worth it. It’s up to the person to make that determination, though, not me. Personally, I don’t really know what it’s like to have a dream, so it’s not like I can relate or anything.

Do you wish other people would want you to be happy? >> I don’t think people want me to suffer or anything. I think that in general, people aren’t really thinking about me at all.

Do you wish you had someone who loved and supported you? >> I do. I wish I had the capacity to feel loved and supported.

[thethirdwheel404]

Med Rewatch Series (#1)

Right, monkey brain said no sleep no rest, only suffering at the hands of med.

I am going to start with the first episode of S2: Soul Care. Reasoning? I need to check if Latham references Ava in his first interaction with Connor.

If my memory serves me right, when Connor is passed over to Latham for his fellowship, Latham says that he was not his first choice. In fact, his first choice was a brilliant surgeon from South Africa. In the first episode of S2, a season where Ava Bekker is only introduced with one line at the end of the last episode.

If I remember correctly and Latham does actually say that in the first ep of s2, it will be huge for the continuity (and my theory that I came up with today, if you’re interested in following this you should really read that really long post that came a little before this where the basis of the theory is laid out). 

Also in rewatching this I see more of Sarah which, again, I have not seen in two years, and she was the reason I became invested in the show, and the reason I stopped watching after she left.

And all of this even before I start the episode.

There are so many emotions and thoughts running through my brain it literally hurts. I think i’m getting a headache. I’m already really regretting this, this cannot be healthy for me.

(btw, this will basically be a train of thought type thing, I’ll do my best to keep it coherent)

- omg its starting

- i completely forgot how s1 ended but its not importnat in anyway

- just, why are they in a helicopter

- how fast does the episode move ive forgotten and i need to know

-JESUS CHRIST SO DRAMATIC

- THE BEGINNING WITH WILL WHY

- it is at this point where I apologize to all those who made it this far bc we’re literally not even 30 seconds in yet

- i just have a lot of med thoughts

- oh god save me

- i am laughing hysterically

- JESUS CHRIST THE APRIL TB STORYLINE AND TATE WTF

- god that feels like a lifetime ago it was relevant holyshit

-remember when she was pregnant?

- literally what have I missed

- side note, i really like the cup april drinks out of.

-THERE SHE IS

-SARAH

-SHE’S HERE

-and she’s a barista

-literally wtf is this show

-and the dramatic music is still going literally chill man god

-THE WAY SARAH SMILES HOLY SHITTTT come on man there was literally no way i’d survive this but fuck not even a minute in...

- okay but i never understood charles’ family scenario but this is already too fucking long for a minute in so i hope we can just skip past that

-hahahah sharon’s fucking divorce? holy shit, this is too dramatic for the first ep literally save me (at least she acts well)

-yeah the one thing I will say about med (thats a lie ive already said a hundred but yk) is that for the crap storylines and all, the actors take what they’re given and give it their all and i appreciate it so much

-the helicopter’s number is N365UCC and just... succ

-ethans bird (!)

-also the fact that’s so big for ethan to be chief resident is so weird to me. like the last medical drama I watched was greys and they are all like grizzled veterans and have been doing that stuff for actual decades and i tend to put med and greys on like the same level bc they are the only medical dramas ive watched but.. holy crap the people on med are so young?? half their main cast is med students and residents. when nearly every main character on greys is a department head. its wild.

-proud of ethan. proud of my boy (did you know that adam jacobs who played aladdin on broadway was in a s3 episode? fun facts) (fun fact: did you know that ava is the only main character on the show who’s status is now deceased? I’ll shut up now.)

-oh my god i say roland buck III’s name and GOD noah jesus

- i find noah incredibly annoying, especially bc he tries to overshadow reese (my fav) but also just bc hes spoiled [that thing that said that one of the biggest mistakes med made was not having sarah get the emergency med residency at the end of s1 comes to mine, and the fact that noah got his residency easy peasy] - but, i will say that the moment at the end of this season where noah and reese dance together at the party is very adorable. (pre reesker brain showing lmao I really did love sarah with my whole heart) (moreover my snapchat memories were filled with just recordings of reese scenes lmaooooo)

-okay at this point I need to stop once i get to the potential ava thing bc what is happening we’re not even two minutes in why is this so long. (so many thoughts)

- i find will annoying but,,, he is kind of nice to look at. and what i mean is like facial acting (i am a lesbian). like. just. don’t speak. and when he’s being a good character he’s fine. it’s very few and very far between ig

-natalie annoys me so much and shes only had one line, and it wasn’t even a character line, it was mainly exposition.

-EW

-FUCKING EW

-ITS CONNOR HE’S HERE. god i forgot what he looked like in red scrubs and his poofy hair. child compared to s3 and s4. hopefully we see latham soon so we all don’t have to suffer through this. and he looks so angsty. he definetly glowed up in the later seasons.

- i have no clue how to spell definetly. I am guessing literally everytime.

-latham please come and end this all.

-oh haha there’s downey hes dead.

-okay so i actually watched s1 after i watched s2 which is so weird to think about. like that means that i liked s2 so much that i BOUGHT THE DVD FOR S1. yeah. I liked it that much (it really only means I was that much of a simp for sarah). but it also means that technically i watched s1 after i met ava?? like i honestly had NO CLUE what was in my future. did young me ever think she was going to stay up late at night, avoiding history hw while analyzing a defunct character from this show on a whim? a character i was super annoyed with at the beginning? who has no become a huge part of my personality? honestly? no. no she did not.

-and the story with downey was so jarring. and the story with zanetti. like i think i first started watching with the first ep of s2 (the one im talking about rn) and i was a bit lost. so going back and watch s1 to like connect the dots. but i never expected the dots to look like that. its like each season of this show is a completely different show from all the other seasons. like i’ve said before, this show is a headache. but literally latham please come and end this for now.

-GOD CONNOR LOOKS SO YOUNG WHAT THE HELL thats so weird lmaooooo

- like i had absolutely no clue who downey was going into this. and they they started talking like ‘oh yeah he killed his attending’ and i was just like ‘damn bro ill cheers to that’

- that’s literally ava’s first line actually. “i heard your girlfriend went insane and you murdered your attending.” - which was why she was hated at first. that was literally her first line to connor which is like, so hilariously rude that it was instantly iconic.

-also HAHAHAHAH CUE FUCKING ANGST ABOUT CONNOR HURTING EVERYONE AROUND HIM WTF BRO THE EFFECT YOU HAVE ON PEOPLE

- but i’m also sad now. --- “I heard your girlfriend went insane.” Oh. Oh, sweetie. Ava... No. --- but why does s2 ava (all two lines) foreshadow s4 ava in so many ways. like literally what were the writers on.

-baghdad.

-ah yes. the return of baghdad. been a long time since i heard that one, but it is easily one of my favorite running things about med. its just a little detail but the nick name is like perfect. (when i read fanfic where the chars are actually doing doctor stuff in the hospital it makes me light up) the WORLD BUILDINGGGGG. but whatever

-this is the girl who has the fake baby right? that was a really good ep (bc sarah content. can you see my favorites? for the same reason the one where the girl has split personalities easily ranks high with me.) oh wait this is the one where the dad like dies but then comes back for a split second to see his grand child. there’s not really a lot I can say about that, but the fact that i remember it vividly is... weird.

-okay but I actually love the ED in this show. I love how the show is centered around the ED and not the OR like greys. its fast paced, you see a lot about the characters really quickly (one of the reason’s connor’s intro to the hospital in the pilot is certified iconic in my mind [his interactions with will are gold]). the team works well together (usually, when things are good. - which is another reason I hated the show more as time went on. The personal lives interfered more and more and more with their work as time went on. it got so annoying). but like right here will just calls maggies name and maggie is just On It. I love it. I love the fast pace. it’s why this show got me to come back. so many things happen, it overloads my brain, like the way a video game works y occupying all of your attention.

-when is the dad gonna pass out i’m just waiting

-AHAHAHAHAHA JEFF NOOOOO. what even was the deal with jeff that storyline annoyed me so much I never got it. he was friends with nat’s husband (who died) and they were both named Jeff? and she actually ended up getting with Jeff a few times?

- the more you watch med and see how the characters get with each other, the more jaded you become

-omg they’re transferring the girl to the bed i love it when they count

-maggie was great but from what i heard/read they ruined her character too??? just not the same

-lmao only real g’s remember the chicago fire backdoor med pilot (if you want an explanation ask me lmao it was a ride)

- i was a real med simp bc I bought that episode on apple video.

-ahahaha this is so stupid. Jeff tries to do things and Will (being a fucking asshole and jealous, doesnt’ let him). he’s a med student let him fucking learn. also i remember why i hated will

-okay but if you look at greys vs. med, greys literally gives their med students no rights. scratch that. they give they’re interns little to no rights. (i only watched the last three seasons bc lesbian, but in those seasons they introduce the bottom of the totem pole, the sub I’s, who are a step ahead of med students, yet they are jokes on the show.) its just a weird juxtaposition is all.

-”lungs are wet.” dramatic music intensifies.

-OKAY BUT I LITERALLY FORGOT NATALIE SPECIALIZED IN PEDS. LIKE I COMPLETELY 100% FORGOT. HOLY SHIT THATS SO FUNNY i can’t believe in my mass hyperfixation i forgot, just more proof that she doesn’t deserve anything.

-why did will make nat do that call? also idk why but is it weird to anyone else when the characters call each other but just.. their names.

-ahahahah i laugh literally everytime i remember that will is supposed to be in charge like he is threatened by anything that MOVES. (also more juxtapositon to greys bc here the attendings are treated as a joke!)

- hly shit i just remember monday mourning and god damn the angst literally never takes a day off but whatever.

- i dont usually get like this but the dad’s acting here is actually making me sad lol. Usually i get annoyed when family members get emotional (im weird uhhhh)

-why did we have to watch the tube being put in for so long - med is so dramatic this fucking show whyyyy

- i bet u the dad is gonna pass out

-oh ig not oops

-OKAY FUCK ME THAT LITERALLY ONLY TOOK US TO THE TITLES HOW DO I HAVE THESE MANY FUCKING THOUGHTS.

-wait latham introduction we may just be able to call it here.

-haha i fucking hate him (connor). he just... comes off so fake-charming its annoying. i cant get over it lmao

-okay but literally every gives connor shit and I am here for it. Latham: “did you kill him?”

- it is literally so funny but annoy how connor throws hands with literally everyone in his path (like dude just chill come onnn)

-okay. okay. okay. finally the part i was waiting for.

- Latham: I preferred a young woman from Groote Schuur, but I was outvoted.

That’s an actual quote, from Latham. For those who are wondering, Groote Schuur is a famous hospital in, you guessed it, South Africa. This is where I’m calling the episode. This is all I needed.

I just want to restate. This is the first episode of season 2. Ava Bekker is introduced to the show in the last episode of season 2. What does this mean, my friends? It means everything.

For those of you who stuck through to the end, I am very thankful. Here we have probably the first piece of evidence to my theory, at least chronologically.

I, personally, think it’s absurd I remembered this point, but I did. That point, that line, presently, watching this episode with no idea of what the future holds, is only there to tell us that Latham and Connor are not going to agree. But this is the single greatest piece of foreshadowing med has ever done.

Med has never planned anything. I feel confident when I say that. Look at their storylines. They are literally on fire, and every decision the characters make reads like the writers going ‘we have no idea how we made it this far, we thought we would get stopped like ten steps ago.’

When has med ever planned things more than a few episodes in advanced, honestly? Almost never, and going a full season sitting on a plot point, that’s major. This was the first time med has ever planned something miles in advance.

In all honestly, yes I am probably giving the med writers a lot more credit than they deserve. It’s quite possible that as the season progressed they just decided connor needed a new love interest or at least a new dynamic, so they could have just easily looked back and thought ‘oh, hey, here’s a fun little thing we said earlier in the season, wouldn’t it be fun if it paid off?’ That could be true.

Here’s why it probably isn’t. The med writers have no respect for their own continuity. you really think that, in order to come up with a whole new character, they went back to the first episode of the season and paid off a line that is said in less than 2 seconds? no way. Bull. Shit.

honestly, it is probably equally unlikely that either of these things happened. The med writers don’t look back at their story. It’s true, but they also don’t plan things in advance either.

here’s the thing, the more i write, the more absurd it starts to sound. Yeah. Sure. the med writers sat on a character for an entire season, that’s totally a thing that happened and not sarcasm. When pigs fly. everyone knows med is impulsive and messy. But what I am saying is that they planned one thing. One thing.

Ava has an accent. That was a commitment. A pretty uncommon one too. South Africa is such an out of the box choice that god its barely on the map. It asks a lot of someone to act hard while also doing an uncommon accent. If the med writers just decided they needed to give connor a new dynamic, they could have made it a n y o n e. Yeah, sure it would have been nice to have the latham dynamic with the new character, but it would have been so much easier to just create a new character that doesn’t have such a commitment. We all know people who play opposite of Connor Rhodes do not stay around that long.

There is absolutely no reason Connor’s s3 love interest had to be the girl from South Africa. It could have literally been anyone. They could have kept Robin on. They could have made the new character not have so many specific requirements.

At this point, I’m pushing this really hard. Yeah, obviously Ava was planned from the beginning of s2. She had to be. It’s way too specific to be anything else.

What I’m pointing out here is med has never done that before. (at least to my knowledge, if i’m wrong please tell me i don’t want to be a fool) They have never had such a concrete plan for a character, so much as to tease them a full season before they were introduced.

I’m saying, that Ava was special. She was the only character who was teased ahead of her arrival. The one who they knew they wanted, other than the originals, and honestly saying the ‘knew what they wanted to do with the originals’ is being generous. But Ava was different. They had big plans for Ava.

It’s undeniable. Ava was the only character who was planned and teased ahead of her arrival. Ava has such a different style and character than anyone else on the show. She was always planned to be, even when she was just being teased, a rival to connor, meaning she could stand her own against him (or without him).

Now of course, the med writers forgot this when writing s4 and s5. But for the purposes of the important things, all that really matters are the two mentions in s2, and what happens in s3. (for the theory at least).

In conclusion: think about how odd it is that Ava was the only character that was planned over the course of the show. Like sure the characters are planned, but never this far in advance. Med writers don’t really plan anything. I would be shocked if they did anything but through a dart at a spinning wheel. But they had plans for Ava, and they had plans for s3, when she was good.

Think about how odd it is that the med writers had a character planned from the start of s2, that they sat on for a whole season. They never, ever did something so slow and deliberate. Never. It goes against their formula. Like a fucking shark, they have to be moving or they die, at least in their heads. But Ava was always a change to the formula. They had a plan for s3.

that’s it for now. we will see what happens when i watch the last episode of s2.

read the next parts:

Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Extra