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[softservesoymilk]

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[daydreamingatnight209]

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“My Number 19”

Mason Mount x Reader

Warnings - High emotions? Fluff 💞

Prompts- Comforting Mason after the Euros and the song “Marry your Daughter”

1.5k words.

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A  holiday in the sun was exactly what the team needed after their devastating loss in the Euro’s final against Italy. I knew that it hit everyone hard, especially Mason. I remember watching him console his friends on the pitch with tears in my own eyes, as I stood beside his parents, but it wasn’t a time for me to cry. He needed me.

I simply opened my arms to him when he found me in the stands. He wasted no time embracing me, his weight throwing me backwards slightly. I catch myself and wrap my arms around him tightly, tracing small patterns down his back to try and relax him. The tears I caught him holding in on the pitch were now flying freely down his face, as he buries himself into the crook of my neck.

A hand of mine shoots up to his hair as I play with, knowing that it is these small intimate touches that calms him in heated moments like this one.

“You still made history babe; I am so very proud of you” I whisper into his ear as he breathing slow goes back to normal.

He looks up at me and my heart broke from him. I gently wipe away any tears still trapped on his face as he works his way to his parents who go through similar motions to me.

A few days later, we found ourselves in Mykonos. Over the last couple of days Mason has managed to put the loss behind him and thanked the fans for their support as well as addressing that there is no place for racism after virtual attacks appeared online towards some of his teammates. By the time we land his famous smile was back on his face.

A few others join us on the spontaneous get away including Dec who is dating my best friend , Chilly, Jack and Shaw with their partners.

I finish putting my hair up so that it doesn’t receive extensive damage from the pool when Mase enters the room.

“Dec and some of the lads have hired a yacht for the day, do you wanna  join?

He hugs me from behind, humming to himself as I push down any fly away hair strands. I look at him through the mirror with a twinkle in my eye.

“Of course! Do you really need to ask Mase?”

I grab my beach bag and head out the room with my boyfriend.

The day was spent swimming in the sea, sunbathing and the boys playing basketball – all their practice at SGP paying off.

I ensure that Mason is covered in sunscreen after seeing Dec’s burnt arms and my best friend battle with him to put it on. Mase just lays on the deck as I massage the cream into his back, groaning slowly when I undo any knots in his muscles.  This lasts all of five minutes before he is on his feet again answering Dec’s calls to hoop.

I sit to the side with the girls and watch as they pair up to score. The ball swings and hits nothing but net. A clean shot. I cheer out to him and watch as he happily jumps about and gives Dec a quick high five. He looks over to me and for a moment it is like time had stopped.

I take in his lean but muscular posture, his sun kissed skin, while taking in how his jersey fits over his shoulders before looking up to his face again.

Butterflies float around in my stomach as I stare into his deep brown eyes. They were like the window to his soul, showing just how kind and gentle he could be, while protecting those he loves fiercely and from his eyes came a sense of home, of belonging.

The honeymoon period of our relationship never ended and nor would it ever. His love consumed me, forever burning through me. It takes me a moment to realise what the man I am looking at is doing as he drops to one knee.

Time starting moving again but I feel like I am living in slow motion. I was aware of the sudden gasps and quickly following silence that happened around me, but I couldn’t focus on anyone but him. My faces scrunches up as a poor attempt to stop my tears as it finally clicks in me.  He was proposing to me.

I thanked my luck that he waited till I was seated a one hand grips tightly onto the side of the sunbed while the other fly’s to my mouth to stop the loud gasps and cries from spilling out.

I watch as he delivers this beautiful speech, making me cry harder before asking the all important question. It takes me a minute to regain my voice from the shock.

“Oh Mason, look at state of me now. You know I’m an ugly crier!” I protest as he laughs nervously.

“I think you are beautiful” he whispers, using one hand to wipe my tears away and the other to keep a hold of the ring box.

He does his best to clear my face, but I know that he couldn’t do much; turns out my mascara wasn’t as waterproof as it said. That makes me giggle slightly as I open my mouth again. My voice was hoarse but at this point I didn’t care.

“Of course, I will marry you!”

At that, he wastes no time slipping the most gorgeous ring onto my finger, before picking me up and twirling me around as those around us erupt into cheers after that tense silence. Champagne is sprayed all around the deck as music begins to play.

Mason puts me back on my feet, but keeps a tight hold on my waist, unsure if I have recovered from the shock yet.

I lean my forehead against his and soak in memory.

“My Number 19” I whisper just before his lips capture my own, as if to seal the deal.

 ————————————————————————

Mason’s POV-

I have never felt so much relief as I did when Y/N agreed  to my proposal. When she started crying, I panicked like never before, but I couldn’t do anything but wait. Then came the answer I have been waiting for the last 6 months. I wanted to sag in relief, but I had to keep my composure.

I remember that one moment 6 months ago, I had the ring, but I needed one more thing.

My legs felt as if they couldn’t hold me up as I stood before my girlfriends childhood home. I placed  a firm knock on the door and wait until her father answers my call. I give him my best smile (while internally cringing at my actions) and settle instead on a firm handshake.

I force myself to calm down before stepping into the household. I can do this, it’s not like I am the only guy who has asked their girlfriend’s father for his permission to marry his daughter. Its old fashioned sure but not that rare.

I take a seat opposite him and get straight to the point.

“I want to marry your daughter” I blurt out, before adding a quick “sir” on the end.

His eyebrows shoot so far up his face I was actually scared that they would disappear. Not the reaction I would have wanted but there is still hope. I have to hope.

I listen to him intently as he raises his concerns, including our young ages and my career but I didn’t let them dishearten me. I knew that Y/N was the girl I was going to marry when I first met her three years ago. Even at 19 my heart knew that she was the one. I wasn’t going to give up.

“Sir, I hope you don’t mind forwardness but in this box is ring for your oldest, she is my everything and I would really like your blessing. I know that you have your concerns, but you honestly do not have to worry, I will treat her with the upmost respect.” I take a breath before deciding to take the final plunge.

“I’m gonna marry your daughter and make her my wife; I want her to be the only girl that I love for the rest of my life.”

I feel like an eternity passes before her old man looks at me again. I watch as his face breaks into a smile and I have to close my eyes to hide the tears that threaten to spill. He approved.

He stands up and gives me another firm shake of the hand.

“You’ve got backbone kid. I respect that. Go look after my little girl”

I didn’t plan on proposing on the yacht, I had a whole beach proposal planned for that evening instead but when I caught her staring over at me, I was mesmerized. Her smile was so bright, and her eyes shone with constant admiration and love. Stuck in that single moment I knew I had to do it.

I wanted to share this memory with her and the friends we call family; it didn’t matter if it was now or in a fancy setting. I just wanted her to say yes… and she did.

[thewhitejournal]

”The Intern”

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

(not my gif)

hey all! so recently i’ve gotten into criminal minds and i may or may not have fallen in love with thomas gibson, so! i decided to write some fanfic about him. please let me know what you think, any feedback is great. like and share if you enjoyed, and let me know if i should continue this as a series! thanks a bunch!

content warnings: none

It was your first day shadowing under Penelope Garcia, a technical analyst at the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico, Virginia. Your dad had some connections to the bureau and got you a special opportunity to see what a day, or rather, a week in the life of a technical analyst at the BAU consisted of.

Technical analyst, that’s been your dream job for what felt like forever; before you knew what the words meant, you knew you wanted to be able to do extensive research on awful people and help put a stop to their doings. Helping people was one of the things you felt you did best. So you were going to make a career out of it.

Stepping over your stacks of clothes and textbooks, you sized yourself up in your floor-length mirror. Your mom helped you pick out some new clothes, and you were wearing your favorite shirt you found while shopping. It was a navy button-up shirt, carefully pressed so there were no wrinkles. It fit your curves right in every way, and the navy complimented your skin tone perfectly. Your eyes travelled to your neckline; a chain with a simple charm hung around your neck, the metal shining in the sunlight coming in from the blinds.

Your fingers played with the charm, twirling it back and forth. It matched the pair of earrings you wore, a hand-me-down set of jewelry from someone in your family, probably your grandmother. You looked yourself in the eyes, admiring your simple makeup. Your hair fell in waves; you fooled with it a bit to make sure there wasn’t a hair astray. Your attention wandered back to your outfit. The black slacks had a piece of fuzz or two on them, and you picked them off, straightening them out. Your mom tried to convince you to wear a skirt, but you insisted pants were more practical. They are, of course.

The only part of your ensemble you might regret is the black pair of heels that were already hugging your feet in a bit of an uncomfortable manner. It was the comprise you made with your mom to not wear the skirt. You had to admit though, they complimented you well. Glancing at the clock on your wall, you saw it was almost time to leave. You grabbed your black blazer, pulling it on and releasing your hair from the neckline.

The keys laying on your table in your apartment jingled as you picked them up. You grabbed your purse and gave the place a once over, making sure you didn’t forget anything. You flicked the lights off, shutting and locking your door behind you, and headed towards the elevator.

Stepping in and pressing the button to the garage, you let out a shaky breath, suddenly realizing how nervous you were. You tried to breathe steady breaths and calm down, but it was hard. Your mind was racing. Would you be any good? Could you handle the cases? Would Penelope like you? What if nobody liked you?

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, pulling you from your thoughts. You could do this. Probably.

Your heels clicking echoed throughout the parking garage, followed by the sound of your car unlocking and beeping. Opening the door, you climbed in and sat your purse in the passenger seat, sighing heavily. You wish you had some sort of idea of what to expect for today, but it’s like you were walking into a room blindfolded. You slid the keys in the ignition and started the car, pulling it out of the garage and making the short drive to the BAU.

A playlist of your favorite songs spilled through the speakers and filled the air; you thought maybe the music would help you feel better, and it did. But that feeling of bliss ended quickly when you pulled into the parking lot. Turning the car off, you looked out your windshield at the daunting and intimidating building before you. Making one last check of your appearance in the review mirror, you grabbed your keys and your purse and made your way to the front door.

You told the front desk person what you were instructed to by Penelope, and he let you proceed to the elevator. You luckily ended up alone in the elevator, giving yourself some more time to mentally prepare. It dinged, signalling your arrival to the floor you were supposed to be on.

The directions from the elevator to Penelope’s office replayed in your head like a broken record, as to not forget your way there. You tried to keep your head held high, but it was hard to; a feeling washed over you, like every pair of eyes in the room was on you. Maybe that was just paranoia though. You were about to reach her office when an undoubtedly handsome and buff man stepped foot into your path as you passed him.

“I think I’d remember seeing your pretty face around here, got a pretty name to go with it?” He said coyly, raising his dark and thick eyebrows as he spoke, a smirk gracing his face that showed off his incredibly straight teeth.

You stuttered and tried to think of what to say to such a bold question, but Penelope peeked her head out of her office before you had the chance to conjure a sentence.

“Ah ah, Derek. That one’s mine. Leave her be.” She said, looking at you with a kind smile. She waved you over, and you slid past Derek.

“Nice meeting you, Derek.” You called over your shoulder as Penelope practically pulled you into her office. You heard him huff with defeat and say something else before she shut the door behind you.

“But I don’t get your name?” He practically yelled, arms rising and then falling in defeat. He shook his head and returned to what you assumed to be his desk. You and Penelope shared a laugh.

“Hi, honey! I hope sweet-cheeks out there didn’t give you too much trouble. It’s so nice to finally meet you! Your dad’s told me so much about you!” She said to you, extending her hand, the sound of bracelets jingling accompanying it. She was quite bubbly, it was clear to see. Her clothes and office space were colorful and bright; it’s not that it’s a bad thing, it’s just not what you expected to see inside an FBI agent’s office.

You shook her hand, returning the smile she gave you. “No, he didn’t. I was just taken by surprise is all. It’s nice to meet you too!” She took your purse from your hands and sat it on the table closest to the door, next to the purse you assumed to be hers. She gestured to an empty chair that was pushed into the table; it sat in front of a laptop, a setup that looked puny compared to hers. She had several monitors all over the wall and two separate computers set up.

“Your seat, madam.” You chuckled a bit, sitting down. Her personality made you feel more at ease immediately. Maybe she was always like this, or maybe she could tell you were tense. Either way, it helped you feel better, and you were already starting to like her.

“So what I usually do is sit in front of these screens all day and dig up the nasty stuff on the bad guys for our good guys. I’m talking sealed records, CCTV, bank accounts, you name it and I can find it.” Penelope was sat down in her own chair now, waving her hands around as she spoke. You sat silently, listening intently as she continued to tell you what her job consisted of. Suddenly, her door was swung open. A tall man in a suit with black hair and beautiful light brown eyes stood there, looking directly at Penelope. He was holding a file.

“Garcia, we have a case.” His left arm outstretched to hand her the file, letting you be able to notice his shiny watch and wedding band. It was almost like he didn’t even know you were there - at first. His eyes glanced over your way, then did a double-take, when you assumed he realized he didn’t know who you were.

“Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m SSA Aaron Hotchner. You must be the intern Penelope was telling me about.” His hand reached out to shake yours. You stood to your feet quickly and shook it. His grip was firm and his hands were huge. You tried not to make it obvious that you were intimidated by him, but you tried very hard to not let your gaze fall to the floor. Looking into his eyes gave you butterflies, which was odd. This man was a stranger to you and yet he seemed so familiar.

“Yeah, that’s me. It’s nice to meet you, sir, I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I’m really excited to be here.” You gave him a smile, and he returned the favor, a soft one gracing over his lips. Your hands seemed to be clasped together for a second or two too long, but neither of you seemed to be objected to it. He let his hand fall from yours, and he shoved them in his pocket.

“Well from what I hear from Garcia, we’re lucky to have you. Nice to meet you, (Y/N). And you can call me Hotch.” With that and one last smile to you both, he swiftly shut the door behind him. You sat back down and noticed Garcia giving you a weird look, a smirk on her face. You laughed nervously.

“What?” You asked her, her smile beaming at you.

“Nothing, he just never smiles like that. Especially not since Haley-, well his wife...” She trailed off. Your brows furrowed. If something had happened between him and his wife, why was he still wearing a wedding band?

“Is she-?”

“Dead? No. Staying at her parent’s house with their son? Yes. It’s taken a toll on him, but I haven’t seen him smile like that in forever. We’ll have to keep you around, you’re magic or something, kid. Hotch doesn’t smile for anyone.” Penelope turned to her computers and started typing away, getting ready to work the case you assumed. A blush crept up onto your cheeks. Something told you that you wouldn’t mind staying there a bit longer either.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

What Fresh Hell?: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill, fluff and angst, talk of child pornography, talk of sexual abuse with children

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there is any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated.

Feedback is gold, and it’s the only currency I take

Billie’s father is seen parking in the driveway, and even from where you’re at, you can feel how angry he is. He turns this whole blue energy of the house into a light purple. Both red and blue mix to create a whole mess of emotions. He’s not right in the head either, but that’s clearly not going to stop him from marching in here. As soon as he does, him and Billie’s mother just go at it.

“I have been calling you all night!” she yells.

“I'm sorry, Marilyn. I turned my phone off.”

“How could you turn your phone off? What if Billie got sick or—we needed you!”

“I said I was sorry!” he groans.

She slaps his arm and gives an angry scoff. She turns away and leaves the room. Thankfully, William stays put to give her time to cool off.

“What's being done to find my daughter?”

“We're assessing that right now,” you answer.

“She's been missing since yesterday! What the hell have you people been doing since then?!”

“Where have you been, Mr. Copeland?” Gideon wonders.

“Me?”

“Where were you all day and all night?”

“I have a cabin in Brandywine Valley,” he says, but that doesn’t tell you where he’s been this entire time.

“The police tried you there.”

“Well, maybe I was out at the time.”

“Billie tried your cell phone yesterday afternoon. You didn’t answer then,” you comment.

“Well, I shut it off sometimes. I like the solitude.”

“You didn't fight your wife for custody of your daughter, but you like being in her life,” Gideon rattles off the facts.

He wants to make him nervous. It’s working.

“I want her to grow up in her home with her friends around. This is the only place she's ever lived.”

“So, you love her very much.”

“Yes.”

“Why do you waste any precious time we have left?” Gideon sighs and cuts to the chase for this is taking too long. “You weren't at your cabin. You weren't at work or with friends. Police didn't call us until a little while ago because they thought your daughter might have been with you—that you might have taken your daughter. Until you can give us a satisfactory accounting of your whereabouts from the time your daughter went missing until—would you help me understand why a devoted father who talks to his daughter every night suddenly turns his phone off and disappears for almost twenty-four hours?”

“I was… busy,” he hesitates.

“It was 1:30 in the afternoon. You called your wife at 11:30 that morning and found out Billie was missing.”

“So?”

“Well, Brandywine Valley is fifteen minutes away. Where were you, Mr. Copeland?”

William knows he’s been caught, so he chooses the right option to tell the truth. He sighs heavily and sits down with a long and tired look on his face.

“I—I was at Sloane Kettering hospital in New York City. Dr. Baylan Mahal is the head of Oncology. You can call him if you want.”

“I will. Did you have a relapse?”

“It's in my lymph nodes now. There's nothing more they can—” he cuts himself off. “Please find my daughter. Find my daughter.”

“Call Sloane Kettering,” Gideon instructs of you.

“Yes sir,” you say, already taking out your phone.

The bad news is that Sloane Kettering vouched for William, confirming he was with them the entire day with proof through cameras as well as the sign in sheet. If he didn’t take his own daughter, then that means it really is a stranger abduction—most likely. The good news is that Derek, Elle, and Hotch did have something when they returned from the park. You didn’t want to upset the parents even more, so you had a small meeting on their lawn as soon as they arrived.

“What do we know?” Gideon asks as he jogs up to the rest of the group.

“We talked to a kid who had contact with the unsub. He came back to the same street more than once,” Hotch informs.

“Well that tells us he's at ease in the neighborhood—comfortable talking to kids in plain view,” you fit the pieces together.

“He lured Billie with a story about a lost dog.”

“She recently lost one of her own.”

“That indicates previous knowledge of the victim,” Spencer says.

“But it doesn't necessarily mean that she knew him personally. This only means he's aware,” you counteract.

“Actually, it's not uncommon for predators like these to know the kids that live around his area. He’s from this neighborhood.”

“Then we go door to door and ask for voluntary searchers,” Detective Russet speaks up.

“The neighborhood is already crawling with uniforms. They're everywhere. Having more searchers is only going to make the man who did this go into hiding,” you point out.

“So far, you followed the child abduction response plan to the letter,” Gideon trails off.

“For the past few hours, yes,” the detective nods.

“So now we need to move past the guidelines and change tactics. If we don't, Billie isn't gonna make it past the next twenty-four hours. I want you to corral these clowns,” Gideon points to all of the news cameras. “We're gonna need 'em—all of 'em.”

Before you can deal with the press, it’s about time to give the profile. Usually, you’d have more time to put one together, but Billie is very high risk. If you don’t put one out now, she could die sooner rather than later. Every single cop that’s around this area is in one room, listening to your team give the profile. Each and every one of them are listening intently, taking down notes as you go along.

“Billie Copeland has been missing for twenty-two hours. It is vital that we locate her in the first twenty-four,” Gideon starts off.

“The unknown subject, or unsub, in this case is most likely a resident of one of the subdivisions around the park. We have cancelled the amber alert. We need to coordinate with all your officers to pull everyone off the street immediately,” Hotch explains.

“That’s fucking crazy,” a random officer scoffs.

“Just hear us out—”

“But it goes against court procedure. You guys wrote the damn thing.”

“Actually, Carp is just a guideline for immediate response to child abduction. Believe it or not, we're already late in the game, and we do know enough about this unsub to know that if he feels like we're closing in on him at all, he will kill Billie to avoid detection. If anything, we need to lessen the pressure on him,” Spencer spits out.

“This man fits in because nobody knows what he is. Can we really know our neighbors? He walks his dog and does yard work. Solitary activities appeal to him. However, if you watch closely, you'll see he pays a little too much attention to the neighborhood kids. Largely goes unnoticed because he isn't perceived as a threat. He’s a white male in his late twenties to thirties. He has a menial or temporary job and is socially marginalized and frustrated. He relates better to kids than he does to adults. It’s not his first offense to children, but it is his first abduction,” you explain.

“How do you know that?” Detective Russet asks.

“First-timers hunt closer to home. Experienced predators don't.”

“He's had a recent stressor—a job loss or other setback. Unable to maintain a normal relationship, he'll have extensive pornographic materials in his home and on his computer. And while they won't all involve children, some of them definitely will,” Hotch takes over.

“Since he used the missing dog ruse, and we believe him to be a regular fixture of the neighborhood, it's quite possible that he truly does own—or did at one point—own a dog named Candy. We recommend cross-checking veterinary records with residents in the neighborhood,” Spencer says.

“He will not inject himself into this investigation.”

“Don't these guys like to know what the cops know?” the detective says.

“No, not this type of unsub. He's hiding. He doesn't know what anyone saw. He doesn't know if there's any information about him out there. He's unlikely to walk in and ask us, ‘can I help you?’. But I can guarantee you he will be watching the news. So, how we handle them is very important,” Gideon stresses.

“Check your canvass records. One of you may have had contact with him in the early stages.”

“What about registered sex offenders?”

“We've got somebody working on that right now.”

“Okay, ladies and gentlemen, everyone clear on that? Good luck. Thank you,” Gideon closes this meeting out.

Derek immediately leaves off to the side to call Penelope to have her work her magic touch on the already growing pile of suspects. You’re scheduled to go back to Mrs. Copeland’s house with Elle just to make sure she and her ex-husband are doing alright. Before you do that, however, you walk over to Spencer who is kind of all by his lonesome.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” you ask.

“Could be better. What about you?”

“Same. This is just going to be another nightmare to add to my list,” you sigh sadly.

“Do you dream of children often?”

“It’s a lot less than what you’d think it’d be. I swear this job never gets easier. When I agreed to take this job when Gideon offered it, I was ecstatic. I thought I’d really make a difference.”

“But you are—”

“No, I’m not,” you cut him off. “All I get are some victims that are saved, and a shit ton of nightmares to follow it. The payoff is actually worse if I think about it. Just as I’m about to collapse from extreme depression, I think of this team. I think of you and Penelope and JJ and Derek. I think of kids like Billie. I think of everything good that comes out of these cases. While there isn’t much, I try to hold onto the good as tightly as I can in hopes some of it will rub off on me, you know?”

“Try going through life with an eidetic memory.”

“Bless your heart, Dr. Spencer Reid. Seriously. You’re doing a great job if it means anything.”

“It does. Thank you,” he smiles shyly but brightly.

“Y/N, come on!” Elle calls for you.

“Duty calls. Save that smile for me when I get back, yeah?” you flirt.

You’re already gone before Spencer can come up with anything clever to say. All he’s getting are flushed cheeks and a fuzzy brain. You actually make him forget what he’s about to do… and that’s saying something.

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[demoneyesanddamagedsouls]

Sparring Partners

Chapter Two: Preparation

A/N: Thank you guys so much for the love on the first Chapter of this fic, I hope you enjoy this one just as much. I’m aiming to post a new chapter each week, not sure yet how many chapters this’ll have yet. Feedback and comments as always are so welcome, I’d love to hear your thoughts, and if you’d like to be tagged for the upcoming chapters just let me know! xxx

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F! Reader

I have also just created a playlist for ya’ll to listen to while reading. I hope it gets you even more invested! ✨COCKY COWBOY PLAYLIST✨

Summary: You and Agent Whiskey are long time rivals. As Statesman agents you both have been put up for the same promotion and this mission is your final chance to prove yourself. Have you got what it takes?

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Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Slight Language, mentions of food and canon-typical violence

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CHAPTER TWO: Preparation

You both leave the conference room minds reeling from all the information that was just given to you.

As one of the younger agents at Statesman, being chosen as a potential candidate for Champ’s position was a real honour. It showed that Champ really thought highly of you and your skills. After 8 years of working as an agent, going on your fair share of dangerous and difficult missions, taking a bullet more than once, and now training the new recruits with Tequila, you knew you had worked your ass off to get where you were.  However, even with all this experience it paled in comparison to some of the more senior agents, some with 10 or more years under their belt. Hell, the person you were up against had been on the job for about 15 years, making a name for himself as one of the most fearsome agents that Statesman had to offer. You knew for a fact that Whiskey had been hoping for this position eventually, it had been something he mentioned to other agents that you heard in passing. At the top of his game and at the height of his career you realised, this cowboy was going to be one hell of a challenge to go up against.

Whiskey mulled over this new mission and Champ’s offer over and over in his mind. He wasn’t particularly surprised that Champ had propositioned him as a potential candidate for this position, he was one of the most senior agents at Statesman. Probably the closest in age to Champ and with the extensive experience he had it seemed rather obvious, but Vodka? You were still so young, in your mid 20’s the world was yet to break your spirit. Mind you, you had that bossy tone down packed. He chuckled to himself. He was hesitant to admit but you had a certain leadership quality that you didn’t see in most of the agents here. Most were contented to follow orders and carry out missions as asked, but you always had your own way of doing things, always taking the initiative. He supposed you had a fresh and young perspective that Champ must see as endearing. He however, found your constant need to take charge rather infuriating. You always seemed to think you knew best and even if you were correct, more often than not he was resigned to admit, it was still frustrating as you always seemed determined to show him up. He knew you were going to be a challenge, so determined to prove yourself, and a damned good agent to boot. Fuck this is going to be harder than he thought.

Both of you walking in the same direction out of the room, neither of you realising the other is turning to walk in the opposite direction. Both too caught up in your own thoughts you collide into each other your head smacking into Whiskeys chest. Quickly recoiling from the unintentional contact your rub your forehead with the palm of your hand. “Dammit Whiskey, watch where you’re going for Christ’s sake.”

“Well jeez Vodka how am I supposed to avoid you and that ego inflated head of yours?” He scoffed, eyeing you up and down.

You scowled at him, “You think I have a big ego? Have you looked in the mirror lately Whiskey? You and that cocky ass grin of yours have got a lot of nerve talking about my ego.” Rolling your eyes, you swiftly turn and storm away from the narcissistic cowboy.

“If you liked my smile so much you should have just said so… sunshine.” He calls back to you as you walk away. You could practically hear the smirk in that smooth as silk southern accent.

What an absolute dick. He knew exactly what he was doing when he spoke to you like that. It infuriated you. The way his southern drawl echoed in your ears, his words dripping like honey, they way he called you those stupid little pet names. Everything about Whiskey drove you up the wall, he always knew just how to get under your skin. “Fuckkkk…” You growled to yourself as you stormed into your office your heeled boots clicking angrily through the hall. Why does he always have to be so intensely irritating? You needed to get that stupid fucking smirk out of your head and get prepared for your new op. Slamming the door shut and sitting down, you start reclining in your office chair taking a deep breath and relaxing. Whiskey’s scent had lingered on your clothes creating a cloud around you after you had slammed into his chest. Inhaling the smell of cinnamon and sandalwood, a soft oaky smell, your breathing began to slow and calm. You would never tell him but that was one thing you did unfortunately enjoy about Whiskey. He always smelt good. Why did he always have to smell so damn good? Shaking your head to clear your mind of any remaining thoughts of Whiskey you leaned towards your desk and opened your laptop. This was going to be a long night…

***

Pushing the door closed with your heeled foot, you stepped into your apartment and sighed. You were exhausted. Checking your watch, you realised it was now 10 minutes past midnight. Swiftly moving to the bedroom, you flopped onto your bed groaning as you flipped yourself over and pulled off your boots, quickly changing into your pyjamas. Finally laying back down in bed you stared up at the ceiling running over the research you’d done over the course of the afternoon and evening, and the plan you had organised for tomorrow. You had spent the afternoon working, collecting copious amounts of information on CleanPlanet and the history of their company. It seemed that they were attempting to pass as an almost ‘mom and pop’ style family-owned business “Dedicated to the bettering of the planet and all the people who inhabited it.” What a load of rubbish. You had uncovered multiple articles from smaller news publications questioning the companies credibility, some families of recently passed away individuals even coming forward and accusing the company of foul play in the deaths of their relatives. CleanPlanet was owned and run by Howard Jacoby and his wife Constance, two very well-off socialites and academics who were every bit as snobby as they appeared in pictures. At least you wouldn’t be dealing with them directly thank goodness you hated dealing with high society types, that would be Whiskey’s issue.

There was a particular video that had caught your eye whilst combing through their internet presence, a TedTalk style video starring the one and only Howard Jacoby. He was speaking about how the planet was struggling with things like overpopulation and pollution, a speech which sounded eerily similar to Professor Arnold’s work, the man who had assisted Richmond Valentine and encouraged his plot to wipe out most of the planet. You shuddered at the thought. Either way you and Whiskey would get to the bottom of this. If the company and its owners were planning on anything like what Valentine had tried to execute then you needed to figure it out quickly. Deciding you’d brief Whiskey in the morning about your hunch, you set your alarm and curled up in your soft cotton sheets. Looking out your bedroom window at the twinkling of the city lights, your head sinking slowly into your pillow. You drift off into a restless sleep, anxious of what tomorrow would bring.

***

You arrived at Statesman the next morning rubbing your eyes. Your sleep had been restless, anxiety of the coming days keeping you from a comfortable evening. Pushing the door to your office open you hear a chipper voice behind you. “Well mornin’ Vodka. You ready for the op today?” You turned to see Whiskey standing in your office door frame, leaning his broad shoulder against it with a large smile plastered across his face.

Rolling your eyes at his unnecessarily wide grin, “And what’s gotten you in such a fabulous mood this morning?” You say with an exasperated sigh as you drop into your office chair with a small thud. As soon as the words fall out of your mouth his smile somehow grows larger as he pulls out the arm that was behind his back forward as he saunters into the room. Holding a large paper bag, which as soon as you spot the smell hits your nostrils. Fresh pancakes. You look at him with sudden excitement and surprise, your mood instantly lifted and the last feeling of tiredness leaving your body as you inhale deeply.

“I thought I’d bring us some breakfast to get us in the right headspace for today. I also thought we should probably trade what we found out yesterday during our research to make sure we’re both on the same page…”

“Oh, so this is a bribery breakfast huh?” You questioned as you drag your eyes away from the mouth-watering food on the desk in front of you, finally taking a proper look at Whiskey for the first time this morning. The first thing you notice is that he is not currently donning his regular black Stetson, a rather big change from his usual cowboy appearance. Instead, he was showing off his thick, brushed back hair, his wireframe Statesman issued glasses resting on his strong nose, obscuring his dark brown eyes. He was wearing a gorgeous grey checkered suit with a white dress shirt underneath, a casual yet striking look on his glowing tan complexion. It was a very nice change for the cowboy. He cleans up well, you thought. Your gaze flicks up and you notice Whiskey’s cocky grin once again. He must have thought you were eyeing him up, not that you weren’t but you weren’t about to let him know that. You roll your eyes at him trying to keep his knowing smile at bay. “So, what are you after then Whiskey?”

“Well sunshine, since you always seem to know everything, I thought I’d get your run down on things this morning before we both head out to our separate ops today.”

“Ahhhh there it is, the usual candour I’m used to from you cowboy. I was worried when you showed up this morning with a kind gesture that I wouldn’t be enjoying any of that snarky wit I have become so accustomed to.” You look down at your computer and notepad, focusing on the research notes you had made last night in somewhat of a delirious, fever dream state. “Alright let me have a look…” you trailed off.

Whiskey sits down across from you at your desk pulling the steaming pancakes out of the paper parcel you had brought this morning. Setting up the two meals Whiskey observes you, wearing a pair of simple black high waisted work pants tapering at your waist, a simple white blouse tucked into them, the buttons undone just low enough to show off your neck and the top of your chest. He darts his eyes back up to your face, so you don’t catch him staring, nose scrunched up in concentration under your matching Statesman glasses as you palm through your somewhat excessive amount of research notes. He lets out a light breath of amusement seeing you like this, confused but copiously prepared, it was a nice change of pace from your usual so certain self.

Looking back up from your notes as you find what you were looking for you see the small meal containers opened on the desk, filled with pancakes with a small pot of maple syrup on the side. Turning your focus back to Whiskey you begin to go through what information you’d gathered that you thought was pertinent to the both of you. You ran through the notes you had made, both of you working your way through breakfast, Whiskey chiming in occasionally with a mhmm and a nod here and there. “One thing that kept bugging me last night was that Ted Talk type video of Howard Jacoby… talking about the human race being a plague on the planet that needed to be cured so the earth could thrive again…”  you trial off as a look of concern crosses your face, “It was really eerie and reminded me a lot of that professor that assisted Richmond Valentine in his attempt to have the world turn on each other.”

“Well, it seems I missed that video, that sounds mighty concerning…” Whiskey trails off, leaning his elbow on the side of your desk slowly pushing his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. “Wonder what their testing at those new hospital facilities of theirs then…” He turns to look at you, the same worry sparkling in his eyes.

“My hunch is that they must be testing something similar to what Valentine did, something that can affect extensive groups of people on a large scale. Something that would be easy to distribute and spread, but obviously more related to the medical profession because of the labs…”

“Maybe some sort of virus or infection?” He chimes in.

“Seems more than likely… I guess we’ll find out more today. Speaking of…” You glance down at your watch realising it was almost 8:30am. Still so early for your tired demeanour, but almost time for you to both be heading off. Ginger had organised a cover story for you last night and sent in for a ‘staff transfer’ so that you could get into the CleanPlanet facilities and gain access to the hospital quickly. You needed to get to the bottom of this puzzling situation fast, especially as it seemed to be becoming more concerning by the minute. “I think its time for us to head off.”

“Seems it is.” Whiskey nods and swiftly packs the remnants of breakfast back into the paper bag, throwing it into the bin beside your desk.

“So, you know what my, rather detailed I might add, plan is but you have yet to share how you plan on approaching this op.” A slight leer in your voice, aiming to provoke him. “Care to share… cowboy?”

“If you must know, Vodka,” he drawls, the civilised tone from earlier gone in a heartbeat as the two of you pick up your bags and make your way down the hallway to the elevator. “I will be posing as a one of multiple wealthy investors eager to take a tour of CleanPlanet’s new business acquisitions. A high society gentleman looking to expand my portfolio into areas I have true passion for you could say. As it so happens, it seems that Howard Jacoby is searching for some people who share his vision and have a healthy wallet.” His voice dripping in sarcasm, for this type of persona was so unlike himself. A charmer by nature his honeyed voice had made many a lady fall victim to a one-night stand, but a high society man he was not. Whiskey cleaned up well, but he was certainly a working-class gentleman with a love for simple living.

“Well, your certainly dressed the part.” You say as you eye up Whiskey admitting to yourself that he was pulling of the sleek look. You shake your head clearing your mind of the potential minute attraction forming, focusing once more on where you were going. Stepping into the elevator and tapping the basement level button, you continued. “You definitely look like a pretentious asshole.” You say, chuckling to yourself as the elevator started to move.

Suddenly Whiskey was directly in front of you looking you up and down. “Don’t pretend you haven’t been eyein’ me up little lady.” He says, voice velvety smooth. Pinned down by his gaze you suddenly feel cornered, claustrophobic in the small metal space. You feel your face begin to heat up with an incriminating red tint, uncertain whether it was from anger or something more primal, you quickly sidestep his imposing figure. The elevator dings and you swiftly exit the elevator, “You wish cowboy.” You respond, a quick exhale escaping your mouth as you calm your racing heartrate. Why was he trying to rile you up before such an important op? Why does he have to be such a cocky arse? Eyeing him up? He’s got to be kidding. He’s the absolute last person on the planet that you could ever be attracted to. He does nothing but irritate you. He may be attractive, you begrudgingly admit, but you certainly were NOT attracted to him.

You hear him chuckle behind you, “Did I touch a nerve there sunshine?” he drawls behind you as you both head towards the garage where Ginger would be waiting. Rolling your eyes in anger to yourself, you choose to ignore him. Responding would only make him continue.

Pushing the doors open to the garage you see Ginger talking to one of the mechanics. As she hears the doors swinging, she turns to you quirking her eyebrow, seeing you seething with annoyance. “Everything alright here agents?” She says, confusion evident in her tone.

“Fine Ginger,” your voice comes out strained attempting to mask your irritation, “So what have you got set up for us for the next few days?”

“For you Vodka I’ve organised this ID card so you will have access to the basic areas of the hospitals but there are higher clearance areas which I wasn’t able to duplicate. You’ll have to figure that out when it comes to it.” She hands you a small ID badge attached to a clip which you then hook onto the belt loop on your pants. “I’ve also got small earpieces for the two of you to keep in communication while inside the facilities. They’re undetectable but very effective so try not to scream while wearing them if you can.” She passes you both the tiny in ear tech piece.

“Thanks Ging.”

“Now for you Whiskey,” She pulls out a small wallet and a set of car keys, “Here’s a new wallet with your cover identity and some cash to show off of course.”

He chuckles to himself pulling out his new drivers’ licence, “Introducing Duke Silver!” He smiles and bows towards you and Ginger. You roll your eyes again, scoffing at his ridiculousness.

“And… If I can finish, Duke.” Ginger continues giving Whiskey an exaggerated frustrated look, “Here is your new automobile.” Handing him the keys she gestures to a car sitting behind her. A brilliant turquoise blue Shelby Cobra 427 with white racing stripes down the middle.

“Alright… Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Whiskey dashes over like an excited child to admire his new personas gorgeous ride.

As Whiskey admires his new toy you turn to Ginger, “What do I have the luxury of driving to ‘work’ then Ginger?”

Passing you the keys she gestures to the car behind Whiskey’s, a slightly beat-up silver Toyota Corolla. “Sorry hon, you unfortunately need to blend in as a semi-broke medical student.”

You sigh, clutching the keys in your hand. “Thanks Ging.” Walking over you pass Whiskey, still ogling his own ride, making your way to the new car you’d be enjoying for the next few days. A far cry from your own beautiful red Mustang you sighed once more. The two of you hop into your cars and adjust the inside to what you need, throwing your bags into the back seat. You look over at Whiskey and slump into your seat, incredibly jealous. “That looks like one fun car to drive…” you mutter to yourself, green with envy. “Lucky bastard.”

Whiskey revs his engine excitedly, “Thanks darlin!” He shouts to Ginger over the loud purr. Turning to you he winks, bringing your irritation back with full force. “Have fun at ‘work’ then sunshine. Talk to you later!” His voice ringing out across the concrete as he drives off, the garage doors opening as he takes off out of the facility.

“I guess I’m off too then, see you later Ginger!” You smile at her as you close your door, taking off after Whiskey ready to face whatever the day would bring.

*******************************************************************************************

Permanent Tags:

@hrk-fic-recs  @misslexilouwho  

[jimlingss]

Dear Miss Kina, it's me again! First of all, congratulations on finishing your final fanfic on this blog! It was immensely what i've been waiting and hoped for. You definitely played with my heart till the very end! It's kind of like - with every fic you've released till now from Seokjin fics to Jungkook fics - every one of them are all so perfectly crafted, every member gets so written well that sometimes time flies so fast when im reading it!

I waited, and read The End for like two hours? And it was really worth it (im wriitng this at like 3am too) like damn i was pausing every second because I was just trying to decipher whatever was happening in each scene, it was all a lot to take in because with each scenario created with the boys, it almost felt like six whole fics crammed into one! The scrollbar was really small n wasn't moving at ALL when i was reading the first few parts and i was like, "wait this feels more like a 60k than a 31k ㅠㅠ" ??? Like how??? But i was smiling as i was reading through the whole thing, to find out it was a Jin centered fic -- and honestly all of your Jin fics are godtier -- i was like "YES YES YES OMG YES I THINK I KNOW WHERE THIS IS GOING" n it was real fun to guess which member went next and how the scenario would turn out.

N i really loved how smooth u incorporated both oc and Jin during each scenario, their bickering was so fun and their moments made me go "AWW WTF I WISH I WAS OC ATM" AND OMFG especially that parf where ic asks jin if he ever knew her before everything happened n the whole "like you love me" scene went down -- my mouth was WIDE open i was tearing up and i screamed so loud lmaooo omg ur like the only writer to actually make me react so violently about that ○_○ n when the scene wherein oc wakes up and doesnt see jin and rushes out, the way you wrote it, you sense the urgency and the dishevelled/rampant thoughts of hers when she sees seokjin on the floor bleeding like that and all the way to the hospital scene where she cant even talk despite feeling so sick DAMN i cant even stop staring at the screen even tho my head hurts from being awake all night (but honestly ur worth it)

Like if i had to rank the individual realities where reader ended up with, i think the one i got sadder for was the Taehyung reality -- the oc in that universe couldn't even have time for herself n gradually drowned in becoming a mother and a wife n all i could think of was "tae u should at least treat your wife >:((" n with Yoongi's i was like "whut's happening," and instead of being hurt about it i for no reason started to discuss my thoughts onto thin air "i dont want a partner like yoongi, they dont have time for e/o n thats kinda sad" n thats where i really started to guess maybe every scenario has a major downside but i had to figure it out. N then with Hoseok n Joon's i felt my heart crack a lil bit bc the oc's insecurities in that part (she felt world's apart to hobi n then inferior to joon) i was like...this is me n I DIDNT WANNA FEEL THAT WAY IN A RELATIONSHIP so then again i started to talk to myself looool. Then we have Jimin's that got me like damn :(( thats kind of harsh -- being in a reality with oc in the picture removes the fact that jimin had a stable life. And i guess with every scene you made with all members (did that intend to give me life lessons or sum uhh)

And last but not least, Jungkook's! Not gonna lie, i also thought he was gonna cheat on oc bc she mentioned she was a racer, thats the reason he was late to her bday dinner, but then the dots started to connect when she mentioned why jin looked solemn in the hospital (re: everything that i mentioned a paragraph or two before)

I do know this was loosely based on TATBILB, but as i was reading through it i found so many similarities to it. Like the BTS UNIVERSE incorporated in where Jin goes back in the last to try and desperately change the future where he is not there in order to stop people from getting hurt. And also Orange (one of my fav mangas) where Naho received letters (along with her friends) from her alternate self to save Kakeru from committing suicide, and it had the happy ending too wherein she stopped him from getting right in front the truck (tho there were mistakes that she didnt do correctly)

And that's all 😭🤧 im sorry if this ask was really long. But i wanted to say thank you for creating all of these wonderful stories! They made my day n i could still rmember finding out about you as a baby army myself so i could say you were part of my journey as a new army msksksksk. It was such a great fun time to be waiting for new fics to drop, new chapters released and announcements and funny asks to scroll through on my tl! I do hope you do well in whatever you embark on from now on and hey you'll finally get to publish a book! And i'll most likely read that too ^^ happy 5 years to the blog^^ thank you user Jimlingss, thank you Kina!

omg thank you for this amount of feedback and your extensive praise, I feel undeserving of it hahaha anyway, thank you for taking your time to enjoy the end. honestly, I was aiming for it to be a 50k fic to just really indulge you all as my last story. But as I was writing it, it turned out muuuch shorter to my exasperation. but it still stands as my longest oneshot and I think it ended up pretty great in spite of being so much lower than my intial word count goal. that being said, I'm glad it felt long to you!!

Also thank you for giving me a run down on your thoughts on the other timelines LOL it was really fun for me to think about it as well and consider what OC and Jin would've chosen had they chosen. While each had their downsides, some of them they liked more than others. since you indulged me so much with such a long message, I'll indulge you as well....OC's choices prob would've been JK > Tae > Joon > Hobi > Yoongi > Jimin. While Jin (if he could make the choice for her), it would've been Joon > Tae > Yoongi > Hobi > Jimin > JK.

I came up with the whole idea of the end. while watching TATBILB cause I thought this whole alternative reality worlds was gonna happen but nope, they took a much different direction lol and I'm happy to hear you mention Orange bc that was one fantastic manga I read!! Personally, I find the end. to be the love child between The Truth Between Us and The Seven Kinds of Love (with a sprinkle of Seven Seconds in Heaven) hahha there's definitely elements of pre-existing stories to this guy but I don't mind so much since it feels like almost a call back to them :')

Anyway thank you for the love and encouragement!! I'm sending well wishes to you too!!

[itsmeizumine]

COMMS ARE OPEN!

[ID: a 6 panels presentation explaining how OP’s commissions are going to pan out. First panel has scripts divided in two columns. The first column says “Hello, fellows! It’s me, Izumine, and right now I’m taking digital art commissions! I really need to buy new PC and I would be extremely glad if you spread word of this commissions for me. Thank you so much!”. The second column says that payment is to happen via Nubank Pix system and OP’s other social medias’ handle; “itsmeizumine” on Instagram, Twitter, Tumblr and YouTube. From the second panel onward, OP’s gonna showcase the types of commission they are willing to take.]

[ID: Second panel is titled “Silly Doodles”. There are three drawings on the panel, all of them very simple and cartoonish. The first drawing is of a kid reenacting “Will Smith Showing Off His Wife” meme, with a speech bubble that says “Bitch, I love and appreciate you” stylized to add comedic effect. The second is of someone grimacing, with “OUCH...” written behind them. The third drawing is of a surprised person, with a speech bubble that says “*GASP* what- NO WAY!!”. There’s a script at the bottom right that says “Silly doodles are fun to draw and use, specially as stickers! They are the quickest to make, and cost 5 USD*.”. The asteristiks are going to be addressed on the 6th panel.]

[ID: Third panel is titled “My Style” and has a column of script right under it that says “I don’t face much trouble with either headshots or full body, but I don’t dig rendering a lot, so my price table is this: a) SKETCH: 10 USD. b) FLAT COLORS: 15 USD**. c) RENDERED: 20 USD**.”. By the side of this column, there are three versions of the portrait of a boy, showing the different finalizations the price table announced going from the simplest (option a) to the most difficult (option c), left-right. At the bottom left of the panel, there’s a script in parentheses that says “This is good to make portraits of loved ones!”.]

[ID: Forth panel is titled “Mimicking”. Under the title, a column of script says “I can imitate your favorite show’ style on a drawing of your OC! I’m particularly good at: BNHA, SvtFoE, The Loud House and Adventure Time. But I can give a shot to any other ones!”. There are four drawings of original characters to the left of the column, each into the styles of the shows OP mentioned. A serious girl using Yuuei’s uniform and sneakers; a boy dressed as a prince from other dimension dancing with a girl in a poncho blouse and pleated skirt, both seemingly in love with each other; a kid wearing a vest, a long-sleeved blouse, pants and boots, expectantly looking to the forth wall; and a fire monk in their casual garb, content; respectfully. In the midst of the drawings there’s a box that says the price is 15 USD**.]

[ID: Fifth panel is titled “Landscapes”. There are two big drawings. The one at the left shows a empty main avenue prepared to start a community fair. The day is sunny and there are little flags and lace tinsels hanging from building to building as there are flower garlands and wreaths decorating the shopfronts. The floor is made up from packed dirt and cobblestone and there has a kiss booth and a roasted chicken stand at the edge of the street. The drawing on the right is the WIP of a staffroom from a mechanic workshop. There are two different levels at the same room. In the lowest there’s a small kitchenette with lights hanging from a support beam made out of steel and a sofa with a remote control atop of it. In the highest, the ground has the same metal texture of a bus’ floor; there’s a ladder, four tires piled together with plants around them and a shelving unit attached to the entryway. There’s a box that says the price for the art pieces is 25 USD**.]

[ID: Sixth panel is titled "Yes, can do/ No, can't do". The text that follows right after is divided in two columns, each column under one segment of the title. The column under the first segment lists Lettering, NSFW art (though, OP says it's debatable) and Mecha/Armor as things they can also do. The column under the last segment lists Gore (OP clarifying that they can work with blood, but nothing more explicit than that), Hate Material and Animals (and by extension, Furries) as things they can't do. Under these columns there's a box that explains the asterisks. It says "Single asterisk: In case USD is not your currency, we'll follow the procedure of converting the values using it as reference. Double asterisks: This is a minimum price. Might be upped depending on the complexity of your commission, but don't worry! We'll discuss it before settling on anything. And! We'll only start negotiations if you read and agree with my Terms of Service, so that's that as well.". This is all there is to the last panel, and with that the presentation ends.]

(TERMS OF SERVICE BELOW, READ IT ATTENTIVELY)

if DM me about any commission you're interested to do i'll assume you've read everything and are 100% okay with it, so don't even try if you're aren't. this is not up to debate.

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there's stuff worthy of taking notice before asking a commission from me:

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i need my commissioner to be somewhat available for communication. i'm gonna share my process with you and i need your feedback during it to go on. any sort of adjustment gotta happen there, as i'm not returning to the finished piece to retouch it on any way or form nor do i allow anyone to make any changes to my artwork.

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i'm not delivering the finished piece until you fully pay me. no debate on that. and i reserve the right to cancel and refund any commissions at any time for any reason.

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unless you oppose to it during the process, there's a chance that i might use the commissioned artwork on my social medias as a way to promote me and my services. if that bothers you or makes you uncomfortable, you gotta tell me.

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you retain all rights over the intellectual property of the commissioned piece and i assure you i won't make any claims over it, but the artwork is mine nonetheless. it's for personal use ONLY until stated otherwise, and you CANNOT profit from it or use it commercially unless we discuss it beforehand.

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i won't make you NSFW art if you're under age, for obvious reasons. any minors asking for commissions of any other kind need have permission from their legal guardian, unless they have their own bank account.

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if you want to eventually print the artwork, please state this before we get started on the commission. my default set-up is made for small files that are going to pixelate once you size them up to make, say, a poster. it's going to reflect badly on the end result of my work and i can make it right from the start if only you warn me first.

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and i won't lower the price of any commissions below where they are now. the prices are as accessible as they can be. i'll work hard on each and every piece ever commissioned and and i need money like any other person too, respect me and my work.

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i’d like thank anyone commissioning, reblogging or sharing the link of this post with possible future commissioners right now. hopefully i’ll be able to buy a new computer and make even better art to share with you guys soon!!

[axwalker]

Tears in Heaven 9: Awakening

Synopsis: Alexis O’Brien is about to get married but memories of her old life are coming back to haunt her.

Pairings:  Drake x MC Liam x MC (TRR)

Warnings:  NO ONE UNDER 18 should read this story. This is an 18+ blog.

This story will deal with very dark subjects such as death, severe depression and suicide attempt (among others) if you’re triggered by any of those issues, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS STORY

A/N: We’re close to the end! After this one, there will be only one more chapter and the epilogue.  

To catch up: Masterlist

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Word count: 6 700

Songs inspiration: Tears in heaven by Eric Clapton, Brown-eyed girl by Van Morrison.

Thank you, @burnsoslow for being an amazing friend, Beta reader and correcting and editing so many grammar and English mistakes.  @pedudley for pre reading and your great feedback and huge support. 

I LOVE YOU ❤️

As she drove, Alexis’ mind swiveled around all the things she had learned that day.

Especially about Drake. After all, he had been through, he still had come back for her. He still loved her. And that kiss. That amazing kiss that had made her feel alive, excited, and extremely confused.

She almost ran across the estate’s hallways and corridors, until she reached her fiancé’s office. He went to kiss her as soon as she walked into the room. “I wasn’t expecting you today, love; I was going to send you the driver tomorrow morning,” Liam said.

“I came early because I really needed to talk to you.”

The seriousness of her tone made Liam anxious. “A scotch?”

“A whiskey, and make it double, please,” Alexis replied, raking her hand through her hair.

Liam took a bottle of each and poured the drinks. He handed her the whiskey and watched her gulp it. “What’s the matter, Alexis?”

Alexis decided that it was better to go straight to the point. “We didn’t sign the divorce agreement, Liam. I asked for a one-week extension.”

Liam glared at her; his firm grip clutched the whiskey glass he was holding. “What does that mean?” he asked, unable to hide the icy tone of his voice.

“It means that I need time to process everything that I learned about Drake today.” She sat on the couch across from him. “I think you know what I’m talking about.” Alexis fixed her eyes on his, hoping he’d tell her the truth himself.

Liam’s heart sank; he did know exactly what she was talking about. “Drake told you that he came back to see you, but I stopped him.”

“You stopped him? You lied to him! You told him I didn’t want to see him! You lied to me!” she raged. “Is there anything else?”

“I gave him the letter you wrote before you tried to kill yourself,” he said firmly, without taking his eyes off of her.  

Alexis gasped, horrified. “You did what!? Drake didn’t say anything about my letter. How the hell could you do something like that, Liam?”

“I had to be sure that he wasn’t going to come back, and the only way to do it was if he understood how desperate you had been, so I gave him the letter.”

“Fuck, Liam! You betrayed me.” Alexis threw her hands in the air. “You knew. Better than anyone else, you knew how much I missed him. How much I suffered because he never came back. And you didn’t care,” she seethed.

Liam let out a sardonic laugh. “It’s very easy to judge me now that you’re doing better. When I made that decision, you were broken; you were fragile and weak.” Liam tapped his index finger on the table as he spoke. “We fought for months to bring you back to life, to create a routine, and when you were finally strong enough to leave that horrible place, Mr. Walker decides to come back from wherever the hell he was and disturb you. Well, I wasn’t going to let him.”

“In prison. Drake was in prison,” Alexis answered, fuming.

Liam shook his head in disbelief. “What? That can’t be true.”

“It is. He got into a stupid fight the night before coming back to Cordonia and spent almost a year in jail. When he was released, he went straight to the hospital to see me, but you stopped him,” Alexis said accusingly.

Liam’s mind spiraled. He remembered that day clearly; he recalled how desperate Drake was to see Alexis, how broken and lost he seemed. “Maybe, love. But that doesn’t change anything. Drake wasn’t stable -- he wasn’t good for you.”

“We lost our son, Liam!” she yelled. “Of course, he was unstable; of course, I was broken. Things were messy and complicated, but lying to him, to me, wasn’t the answer.”

“Drake poisoned you …”

“This isn’t about Drake, Liam! This is about you and me. About our relationship.” Alexis’ eyes filled with tears. “I trusted you with my life. I had you on a fucking pedestal.” She angrily wiped the tears off her cheeks. “You have no idea how much this hurts. I thought you were the only person who had my back. And it turns out you were lying to me.”

“I’m sorry, love. It breaks my heart to see you like this, but I stand by my choice. Perhaps you’ve forgotten how bad you were, but I haven’t.”

“Oh, I know you haven’t. Me neither. And that’s why I can forgive that lie, the first one. The problem is that you lied for years. Every single time the subject came up, you could’ve said something, but you never did. And you made up a whole story about how you had lost my letter. All lies.” The disappointment in her eyes was heart-wrenching. “How am I ever going to trust you again?”

Liam sat on the chair in front of her and took her hands between his. “You have to believe me, Alexis. I wouldn’t have done anything like this if I didn’t think it was for your own well-being. Please, my love, try to understand.” He kissed her hands, trying to get closer to her. “I can’t lose you, not over this. I know I should have confessed the truth earlier, but I was scared you were going to leave me.”

Alexis heard the desperate edge in his voice, and the last four years of her life flashed through her mind. This was the man that had saved her life and given her everything. The man that was willing to sacrifice having an heir for her. As angry as she was with him, deep down, she knew he only had lied to protect her. “I’ll try to understand, Li; I promise. But it’s going to be difficult to trust you again.” Alexis stirred in her chair, uneasy. She had to be honest, too. “There’s else something else I have to tell you.” She took a deep breath. “Drake and I kissed.”

“I’m going to kill him,” he threatened, furious.

Alexis sighed. “Liam, please calm down.”

“How can you ask me to do that?” he raged. “You kissed him, and then you come here to talk about betrayal? I did what I did to protect you, but I’d never do something like this.”

“There’s no excuse for lying to me all these years, Liam. But I shouldn’t have kissed Drake either. I’m sorry,” she said earnestly.

“Are you leaving me? Is that why you didn’t sign the papers?”

“No, I’m not. I gave you my word, Liam. I just needed time to process everything. I’m telling you about the kiss because I don’t want to lie to you.”

He sighed, trying to gain some composure. “Is that it?” he asked coldly.

“I’m going to go to Drake’s cabin on my son’s birthday. We’re finally emptying his room.” She bit her lip, forcing herself not to cry.

“No,” Liam stated determinedly. “That is not going to happen.”

Alexis turned her head to him. “I’m not asking for your permission, Liam. I’m telling you that I’ll go. This is something I have to do whether you agree with it or not.”

“Fuck, Alexis! Do you think that I don’t want you to go because I’m, what, jealous?” He shook his head. “Do I need to remind you how you get every time we talk about Tom? For God’s sake, you can’t say his name. You don’t even celebrate your own birthday because it’s so close to Tom’s. You’re not ready for this, Alexis. I forbid it.”

“We never talk about him, Liam. Never,” she emphasized. “I know how I got, but I’m not the same woman I was four years ago. Hell, I’m not the same woman I was a year ago. I wasn’t able to get out of bed a week before his birthday, and this year, here I am. It’s still horribly painful and heartbreaking, and no, I can’t say his name yet, but I think this will help.”

Liam snorted. “Why? Because Drake thinks so?”

“That is what you think of me, isn’t it?” Alexis asked him sadly. “That I can’t make a single decision by myself. That I need you or Drake to make them for me.” She placed her hand on his. “I don’t blame you; I gave you -- both of you -- that power in the past. But I’m done with that, Li. I’m going to the cabin the day after tomorrow, and that’s final.” She kissed him on his cheek. “I’m exhausted. I’ll try to sleep. We can continue this conversation tomorrow.”

Liam nodded silently as a reply. He poured himself another glass of scotch; it was going to be a long night.

Alexis spent the night on the sofa next to the window, desperately trying to make sense out of everything that was happening. However, it was her son’s face that had kept her up all night. Five years ago, she had woken up elated to plan his birthday party. Tears spilled from her eyes when she remembered going with him to the store and choosing the decorations and his cake together. His smile illuminated her life, and now he was gone. Immersed in her memories, she didn’t see Liam coming into their room; he had spent the night in his office. He sat on their bed, looking tired. Alexis finally turned her head, and her chest tightened. She sat next to him on the bed and placed her hand on his leg.

“Li, are you all right?”

“I was up all night thinking about us. About you and Drake, too.” Seeing that she wanted to intervene, he gently placed his thumb on her lips. “Let me finish, my love. I want you to be my wife; I want to love you and make you happy. But I need you to be as sure as I am. I refuse to spend the rest of my life wondering if you’re thinking about him, wishing he was with you instead of me. Next week, either you sign those papers, forget all about Drake, and we’ll get married as planned … or you break off our engagement. I won’t accept anything in between.” He pulled her to him and kissed her. “I love you, Alexis. I’m so sorry that I lied to you, but I need you to know that it was the only time, and I only did it to protect you; I swear.” He placed a goodbye kiss on her forehead and left the room.

After a while, Alexis packed a bag and left for the capital; she needed to be alone in her apartment to think.  

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

Two days later, Alexis pulled over at Drake’s cabin, terribly anxious. She was aware that emptying their son’s room was going to be much more complicated than she had expected, but it was something she needed to do to move on with her life, to get some kind of closure. After taking a sharp, almost painful breath and trying to gather some courage, she got out of the car.

Drake’s heart tugged when he saw her through his kitchen window. It was a horrible day for him too, but he had been preparing for a much longer time than Alexis had.

“Hi, Lexie.”

“Hello, Drake.”

The last time she had been in the cabin, the shock of seeing him again after four years had overshadowed everything else. She hadn’t noticed that the house was exactly as she remembered. Well, it was much tidier now that her mess and her son’s toys weren’t scattered all over the room.

“Coffee?” Drake asked.

She nodded, scared that pronouncing one word would be enough to break her. He smiled at her reassuringly.

As he prepared their coffee, her eyes wandered around the bookcase. Her old books were still there. She grabbed her favorite, an early Spanish edition of One Hundred Years of Solitude, a gift from her late mom.

“You should take it,” Drake said as he handed her the coffee.

“I will,” she answered, but kept on looking at the books, more to delay what was coming than anything else.

Drake sipped his coffee silently as he observed her. Her demeanor was graceful and delicate, but her beautiful features reflected her fears, her sadness. He suddenly realized how much Alexis had had to push herself to do what they were about to do. Drake wished she’d realize how strong she was.

“Do you want to talk before we start?” he asked gently.

“Yes, I do.” They walked into the rustic living room; Drake had already lit the fireplace. Alexis sat in her old favorite spot, a cozy white armchair with fluffy red cushions. Drake sighed; everything seemed strangely familiar, and it was making him feel far more nostalgic than he had expected.

“What are we going to do with his things?” Alexis asked as firmly as she could manage.

“There is an orphanage an hour from here. I already bought some boxes and put them in his room. I think we should donate almost everything, except for the things we want to keep because they’re special to you or me. What do you think?”

Alexis nodded slowly. “I agree.”

For a few minutes, they watched the fire in silence as they drank their coffee. Finally, Drake placed his mug on the wooden center table and spoke. “Shall we, Lexie?”

Alexis barely realized that she was shivering. Maybe Liam was right; perhaps she wasn’t ready to deal with it after all. Drake noticed the change in her breathing and how she seemed unable to stand up. He kneeled down in front of her.

“Lexie, I know it’s hard, but it’s time.” He put his hand on her arm. “I’m scared, too.”

“Are you?” she asked, not really believing him.

“Of course. Terrified. But I think that doing it together will help.”

Drake saw the look of determination in her eyes. The old fierce Alexis was still there somewhere. She stood up, and Drake took her hand. Somehow that gesture made him -- them -- stronger.

When they reached Tom’s room, Drake opened the door, and Alexis gasped. She hadn’t been in it for over four years, but it was exactly as she remembered. Tom’s favorite color was blue, so he wanted everything painted in that tone. The shelves filled with books, a chest with his toys, and even the small bed shaped like a car were all blue. Alexis’ watering eyes wandered through the rest of the room. The Shrek blanket covering the bed. His toys, especially the fire truck that he loved so much. Another armchair, where Drake or she used to sit to read Tom a story. His dozens of stuffed animals. Alexis grabbed one of them, a smiling gray rabbit that he took everywhere he went, the one that was next to him the day he died.

She couldn’t hold it in any longer and started to cry uncontrollably. Drake took her in his arms without a word, wrapping her in his embrace and letting her cry. Noticing that he was silently crying as well, Alexis hugged him tightly in return, finding solace in his strong arms, in their shared grief. They stayed like that for a long time.

“We better start collecting his things,” Alexis said, still in tears but calmer than before.

“I want you to do something for me, Lexie,” he said as he rubbed her cheek. “Say his name.”

Alexis shook her head. “I can’t. It’s stronger than me.”

“Look at me.” When she raised her eyes to him, he added, “Nothing is stronger than you. Nothing. Try,” he pleaded gently.

Alexis closed her eyes and took a deep, painful breath. “Tom,” she whispered.

Drake kissed the top of her head. “I knew you could.”

They started packing his things. Every object that went into the boxes reminded them of a special moment; every single item had a memory attached to it.

“I want to keep Buttons,” she said, showing him the stuffed rabbit.

Drake chuckled softly. “He could barely say the word ‘Buttons.’ We only named him that after that dog you liked so much.”

She smiled softly too. “I know, but I loved it when he tried to pronounce it.”

“Me too.”

Alexis felt the wave of feelings washing over her and closed her eyes; maybe that would prevent the tears from coming back. “What do you want to keep?”

“The truck.” he said, kneeling down to grab it. “It used to drive me crazy when he turned on the siren. And now, I’d give anything to …” He cleared his throat, the intense emotions overwhelming him too.

His glassy eyes and his voice breaking pained her profoundly. She kneeled next to him and hugged him again. “Me too, Drake. I’d give everything to have him back.” He looked into her eyes, feeling instantly comforted by her.

They resumed the arduous task, reminiscing and crying while they packed. The process was complicated, impregnated with deep sorrow. At the end of the afternoon, they were both emotionally and physically drained.

Alexis sat on the plush wool couch next to the fire hugging one of its cushions. Drake handed her a glass of water and sat next to her.

“How do you feel, Lexie?”

She didn’t know how to answer. The sadness and bitter pain in her chest were still there, as sharp as usual. But there was also something else — a sort of relief, of peace, that she hadn’t felt in a long time. “I don’t know,” she finally said. “And you?”

“Me neither,” he replied, protectively circling her body with his arms.

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Leo walked into the library and saw Liam sitting on the couch reading the Cordonian News with a glass of scotch in his hand.

“You might be the last person on earth that still reads an actual paper.” Leo chuckled. When he saw the glass Liam was holding, he joked, “Father must be worried; you’re drinking as much as me lately.”

Liam turned around and smiled at his older brother. “No one drinks more than you do, Leo.”

He chuckled. “That is true, man.” Despite the teasing, Leo was worried about his brother. “Is everything alright, Li?”

Liam gave him an unconvincing nod as a reply, so Leo pressed the matter. “How is Alexis?”

Liam pinched the bridge of his nose, exhausted. He decided to confide in his older brother. “I feel her slipping away from me, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

“Where is she now?” Leo said as he prepared an old fashioned for himself.

“With Drake.” Leo arched his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. “They were going to empty Tom’s room today,” Liam added worriedly.

“Fuck! I can’t even imagine it.” Leo shivered, thinking about Milos. “I have no idea how someone can survive something like that.”

“Alexis is not ready, Leo. She’s not strong enough. She’ll get depressed, and I don’t know if I can do it again. Last time, it almost killed me to see her like that.”

“I think she can handle it, Li. When we came to visit a year ago, she seemed very different than she is now. I think you’re being too hard on her,” Leo affirmed as he stirred his cocktail.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe. What I do know is that your relationship isn’t healthy for either of you. Alexis makes me think of a bird in a gilded cage.” Leo sat on the couch. “And you know how much it pains me to agree with old Connie at all, Li. But I think he was right when he told you that she wasn’t ready to be a duchess. I know this because she’s like me; she’s going to feel suffocated here. And you know that, man.”

Liam cocked his eyebrows. “Wow, you sure have a lot of thoughts about my engagement. Since when have you felt like this?”

“Frankly? Since you got engaged. But I didn’t want to spoil your happiness. I’m sorry, Li, but I have to ask. I know you love her, and I’m sure she does too, but isn’t it tiring for you? Always being worried? Always trying to shield her from everything? It has to be exhausting, brother.”

It was more than exhausting; Liam was permanently on edge. But he’d do it for as long as he had to. “I’m used to it; she needs me.”

“That’s the thing: She shouldn’t need you so much.” Leo shifted his position on the couch to face his brother.

“You just said that you couldn’t imagine what it was like to lose a child, Leo, and now you’re judging her for not being strong enough?”

“You know I love Lexie like a sister, Li. I’m not judging her. Or you. On the contrary, I think she’s strong enough. I think she’s perfectly capable of deciding if she can drive or how to mourn Tom.” Leo toyed with his glass before asking, “When you have a problem, do you share it with her?”

“I don’t want to burden her. She has enough on her plate.” Liam exhaled, exasperated; Leo would never be able to understand how broken Alexis really was. If he had to spend the rest of his life protecting her, he would do it.

“Listen to yourself, Li. That is no way to live. You deserve a partner, someone you trust.” Leo placed his hand on his own chest. “Personally, I believe that you can trust her. That Lexie can take it. But if you don’t, what’s the point?”

“The point is that I love her, Leo!” Liam said, finally raising his voice.

Leo rolled his eyes. “Do you? I think you’ve been in love with her for so long that you’re clinging to a fantasy. To a woman that only exists in your head.” He patted his brother on his back. “I don’t want to mess with you. And you know I’m happy that she’ll be part of our family. Just think about it, Li. Don’t marry her only because you’re too stubborn to admit that you made a mistake.”

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

Alexis checked her phone; it was almost 10:00 p.m. “I should go,” she said reluctantly.

After the day they both had had, they needed something that would take their minds off of the grief, the sadness. “Do you want to clear your head?” Drake asked carefully.

“What do you mean?”

“I think it would be good for us to think about something else. There’s a new pub next to the old gas station, and it’s 10 minutes from here; we don’t even need the car.”

Alexis considered it for a few seconds. “Actually, I’d love that,” she answered.

Drake tried to hide his excitement behind a single word. “Perfect.”

“Just give me a minute, I’ll go freshen up a little.” Alexis stepped into the bathroom and turned on the light. She placed her hands on the sink and looked at herself in the mirror. The red eyes and smudged mascara made her look wretched. She cleaned the rest of makeup off her face and put a little gloss on, happy to spend an evening with him.

They were in a secluded area surrounded by the forest, but it was Friday night, and O’Malley’s was the only pub in a 100 km radio. The place was packed. Large wooden panels, wool rugs, and leather couches decorated it, making it cozy. A local band was getting ready to play.

“This is just my kind of place,” she grinned.

“I know,” he said, smiling at her. “And they have good whiskey and a pool table. What else do we need?”

Her stomach growled, almost answering for her. “Food?”

“When are you not hungry, Lex?” He chuckled when she playfully rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t worry, they make a mean cheeseburger.”

A guy in his mid-sixties approached their booth. “Hello, Drake.” He shot a look at Alexis. “A girl, huh? That’s new.” He extended his hand. “I’m Dan, gorgeous. You shouldn’t be wasting your time with this one. He does nothing but brood,” Daniel joked in a thick Irish accent. “I’ll be behind the bar if you decide to ditch him,” he added, winking.

Drake shook his head, smiling. “Stop it, old man, you’re only embarrassing yourself.”

Alexis laughed. “I’ll see how this goes, Dan, but I’ll keep you posted. He does seem to brood a little too much.” She winked back. “I’m Alexis, by the way”

An air of understanding crossed Dan’s face. “Oh, Alexis.” He looked at Drake, smiling conspiratorially. “I’ll bring you two a bottle from my personal collection.”

“And two cheeseburgers, Dan. Rare, one with no pickles, please.” Alexis was about to intervene when Drake added, “And extra bacon for the one with no pickles. Something else, my lady?” he asked, a sarcastic smile playing on his lips.

She shook her head, smiling; it was silly how happy Drake made her just because he remembered how she liked a damn cheeseburger. “Thank you, Dan.”

When the owner left, Alexis turned to Drake. “Why am I not surprised that the owner knows you on a first-name basis?” Alexis asked playfully.

Drake chuckled. “I have to admit that I spend a night or two here per week. He’s right, though.”

“About what?” she asked, puzzled.

He looked at her hypnotic brown eyes and bewitching smile. “You’re gorgeous,” Drake said smiling.

She shook her head no. “Please, Drake. I’ve cried all day. My eyes are all puffy, and I’m not even wearing any makeup.”

“Gorgeous,” he whispered again, delighting himself with the charming blush that colored her cheeks.

Alexis tucked her hair behind her ear, biting her lip nervously. Drake smiled; that little gesture of hers drove him so crazy that he had to actively stop himself from leaning to kiss her. He swallowed hard instead.

“I like it here.” Alexis changed the subject. If he kept looking at her like that, she wasn’t going to be able to resist him.

“I found it a week or two after I first came back.”

“Dan seems to know you well.”

“I met him in November. I don’t drink as much as I used to, but I was a wreck that day, completely wasted.” Drake didn’t need to add more; she understood that he was talking about the anniversary of Tom’s death. “It turned out that Dan knew exactly what I was going through. He lost his daughter 15 years ago. Leukemia. He drove me home that night. He’s a good guy, so we became friends; that’s why I come here so often.”

Dan came back with a bottle of whiskey and three glasses. “Dalmore 18 years. So, Alexis, Drake told me that you’re Irish, too.”

Alexis smiled. “Half Irish. My grandpa immigrated from Shannon to the States 60 years ago.”

Dan beamed. “What a coincidence! I’m a Doolin, man myself. To county Clare!” he cheered, raising his glass.

“To county Clare!” she beamed back, and the three of them gulped their tumblers. “Grandpa Noah would’ve loved him,” she said, smiling when Dan left.

The band on the stage started their set with “Hey Jude.” Happily, they weren’t as bad as Drake had feared.

He leaned against his chair. Despite the horrible day they had had, they were actually having a good time. His heart swelled seeing Lexie so comfortable. Usually, she seemed to move as if she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, but that night, she seemed free, relaxed. The sweet smile Drake could kill for illuminated her face.

Dan brought the hamburgers. They were starving; the smell of grilled meat almost made them drool.

“So is this amazing or what?” Drake asked between bites.

She nodded before putting a piece of crispy bacon in her mouth. “God, it’s delicious,” she answered, savoring it.

Drake took a slug of whiskey as he watched her eat. “I’ve never seen anyone enjoy food as much as you do.”

She laughed. “Stop watching me eat, Walker. It’s creepy.” She stuck out her tongue, making him chuckle again. Feeling curious about his new life, she asked, “How are you feeling now that you’re a veterinarian again?”

“Pretty damn good, actually. I’ve been working at the clinic with Ezequiel, and yesterday I spent the morning at Robert’s stables. Remember Rainbow? She had a little foal.”

“I love that mare.” Robert Ferguson was the first client Drake had ever had. “It’s been years since I rode for the last time. I don’t even know why; there are plenty of horses at Valtoria,” she said pensively.

“And you were very good at it.” Drake smirked. “Well, after I taught you, of course.”

“You didn’t do much, Walker. Bastien said I was a natural,” she replied cockily.

“Ha! A natural disaster.” He raised his hands laughing when she threw a crumpled napkin at him. ”I may have exaggerated there but I don’t remember you complaining when I was teaching you.” He cocked a flirty eyebrow at her.

She blushed, remembering his hands firmly holding her hips when he helped her get into the saddle or the shameless way he looked at her when she was riding. “I’ve always admired how passionate you were about your job,” she said, purposely changing the subject again.

“Me too, I loved how passionate you were about literature.” He toyed with his tumbler. “Are you really done with writing?” She nodded sadly, and his heart tugged. Maybe after some time, he would be able to convince her to write again. “Perhaps you could translate fiction instead of legal documents, Lexie.” Drake’s tone of voice reflected his concern.

“I thought about it,” she answered after the last bite of hamburger, “but I won’t have much time to translate anyway when …” She stopped herself.

“When you become the Duchess of Valtoria.” The hint of disdain in his tone was unmistakable.

“Yes,” she answered simply.

The band started to play “Brown-Eyed Girl.” Her song.  

“Dance with me.”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. “Who are you, and what the hell did you do with Drake Walker?”

He smiled at her remark. The truth was that Morrison’s song brought back too many good memories and that he was dying to hold her in his arms again. “Ha! People change. Plus, it’s your song, remember?” He asked, staring at her.  

They had been married for two years. As a wedding anniversary gift, Alexis had bought tickets to Van Morrison’s concert, Drake’s favorite singer. The first notes of “Brown-Eyed Girl” started to echo through the coliseum. Drake wrapped his arms around Alexis. He pressed his wife’s back tightly against his chest. “This is your song, baby’ you’re my very own brown-eyed girl,” he said into her ear. She grinned. “I love you so much, Drake.” “I love you too, Lexie,” he said before kissing her.

“I do,” Alexis answered softly. “Let’s dance.” She gulped her whiskey and stood up.

A shiver ran through her body as he led her to the dance floor with his large hand strategically placed on the small of her back.

Playin’ a new game

Laughing and a-running hey, hey

Skipping and a-jumping

Drake smiled happily as he pulled her close to him. Having her delicate frame in his arms was more than inebriating. His heart raced while they moved across the dance floor.

In the misty morning fog with

Our hearts a-thumpin’ and you

My brown-eyed girl

You, my brown-eyed girl

Drake cupped and raised Alexis’ face to him. The hammering in her chest got louder when he looked down at her, pouring his chocolate eyes into hers. He mouthed the song’s lyrics as he rubbed her lips with his thumb. Alexis could barely think straight. She was thankful that his strong arms were wrapped around her, holding her firmly.

Whatever happened

To Tuesday and so slow?

Going down the old mine

With a transistor radio

Standing in the sunlight laughing

Hiding behind a rainbow’s wall

Slipping and sliding

All along the waterfall, with you

My brown-eyed girl

You, my brown-eyed girl

Drake pressed her tightly, feeling every inch of Alexis’ soft curves against his body. Wanting her so badly was the most excruciating, most delicious torture he had ever experienced. He dipped his nose into her neck and inhaled, enjoying the delicate cherry notes of her fragrance. His beard tickled her; his breath produced a million goosebumps on her. As they moved, one of Drake’s hands caressed her back, and the other one tenderly cupped her face. Alexis felt like she was seriously going to explode if he didn’t kiss her fast. Finally, he leaned into her, but the singer ended the song, breaking their moment. Alexis swallowed as she took a step back. It was better that way.

They went back to their booth in silence. Alexis poured more whiskey in both their glasses and gulped hers again. They talked, drank, and laughed until they were the last customers in the pub.

“I should go,” Alexis declared when they arrived at the cabin.

“Lex, you can’t drive like this. You’re drunk. You can sleep in our room. Fuck, I’m drunk too. I meant my room.”

It was a horrible idea. “Yeah, okay.”

They went upstairs. Drake grabbed a pair of pants and his Cordonia Veterinarian School sweatshirt, knowing how much Alexis had loved to sleep in it. “Here, so you can sleep comfortably.”

“Thank you,” Alexis said, making eye contact with him. After a few seconds, the stare became charged with all the feelings they had for each other. The electric energy filled the air until Drake took a step towards her. He pulled her close, spinning so he could pin her against the wall, pressing his body against hers. “You drive me insane, Alexis,” he groaned, caressing her cheek.

“Kiss me, Drake,” Alexis whispered.

Drake closed his eyes and leaned down, his heart beating out of his chest. The old spark that used to knock the wind out of him every time they kissed was still there. He crashed his mouth against hers again and again. A soft moan escaped from her lungs, and soon Drake’s mouth was ravaging her neck, kissing it, biting it. His hands roaming all over her. Alexis craved him; every single part of her wanted Drake painfully. He gripped her hips as she wrapped her arms and legs around him. He carried her to the bed and laid her down, getting lost in her beautiful face for a few seconds.

“I want you, Lexie. Fuck, I need you.” Drake managed to growl in her ear between hitched breaths.

Her small hands grabbed his neck. She locked her gaze with him. “Me too, Drake. I’ve missed you so much. I need you so much.” She stopped talking, aware that she would regret whatever decision she’d make. “But I feel so confused. And, Liam ...  I … can’t… I can’t do this to him.” Alexis’ voice broke with sadness.

Drake sighed. As much as he desired her, it wasn’t the right time. They were both drunk, and Liam was there, hovering between them. After all the years they had been apart, Drake didn’t want to have her back only for a few hours and then lose her because she felt guilty or insecure.

“Hey, baby. Shh, come here.” He laid on his back and wrapped his arms around her, her head on his chest. “Don’t worry. I understand.” He talked with a soothing voice as he leaned down to kiss her forehead.

“Do you mind staying here with me? I don’t think I can sleep in our room alone.”

Our room. Drake smiled. “Of course, Lexie. I’m here. You can sleep; I won’t leave.”

Drake’s embrace made Alexis feel profoundly safe. A warm feeling of finally being home invaded her. Soon her breath became even. Drake realized she had fallen asleep and covered her with the blanket. Her beautiful features seemed calm and peaceful. Drake softly stroked her hair, letting his hopes run wild. In that instant, if only for a few stolen minutes, he had all he wanted. After a short moment, he leaned his head against the pillow and soon drifted off to sleep as well.

The next morning, Alexis woke up to the smell of a hot, steaming cup of coffee on the nightstand. Her eyes wandered through the room, looking for Drake, a little disappointed that he wasn’t in bed next to her. She sat on the bed and saw him standing on the balcony, a cup of coffee in his hand, looking at the lake.

“Hi, Drake.”

“Hi, Lex,” he smiled faintly.

“Thanks for the coffee.”

He nodded, his stare still on the lake. “I don’t want to pressure you, Lex, but in less than three days, we're supposed to sign those damn papers. What do you want to do?”

Alexis took a sip of coffee to buy herself a few seconds. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Damn, Alexis, that’s not what I’m asking. What do you want? Not me, or Liam, or anyone else. You,” he groaned, pointing his hands at her. “What do you want?”

“It’s not that fucking easy, Drake,” she answered. “Liam and I have been together through so much. And now I’m supposed to leave him like he meant nothing? He deserves so much more than that.”

“So you’re going to sacrifice your life because of what? Gratitude?” He ran his hand through his hair.

“I know this is difficult to hear, Drake, and I’m sorry, but I love Liam too.”

“Oh, believe me, I know. And it killed me until I realized that you might love him, but you’re not in love with him, Lex. I know you inside and out. You can lie to the entire world, but you can’t lie to me.” He stepped close to her and rubbed circles on her jaw with his thumb. “Don’t think about Liam or about me, think about you. About your dreams. If there’s something you and I know, it’s how ephemeral life is. Don’t waste any more time, Lexie. I promise that the life you used to love is still there; the things you used to enjoy doing, you can enjoy again. Please don’t stop living because you’re afraid or feel guilty.”

Alexis didn’t want to hear any of it. She had loved life, passionately. She had been open and free; she had had everything. A beautiful marriage with the love of her life. A perfect son. A promising career. Hobbies, passions, happiness. Losing that life almost killed her once, but she had learned her lesson. It was better to live guardedly, carefully. As much as she wanted to be, she wasn’t the naïve 19-year-old girl Drake had met 10 years ago.

The worst part was knowing that no matter what she did, she was going to hurt someone. Drake was the love of her life. He made her feel safe and protected, exhilarated, giddy, and euphoric, even after all that time. During all those years away from him, she had never stopped loving him, missing him painfully.

But Liam had never left her, no matter how broken, how sad she had been. She had never asked him to stay, to take care of her, but he had done it anyway, selflessly. It made his sacrifice even nobler. Together they had been able to defeat her grief, if only partially. He deserved much more than to be a mere transition into her real life.

“I need to leave, Drake. I’m sorry.”

“You’re so fucking frustrating,” he growled. “But as stubborn and maddening as you are, I love you.” He grabbed her waist and surprised her with a long, heartfelt kiss. “I love you, Alexis, and I’m not going anywhere this time. When you change your mind, you know where to find me.” Drake stepped into the house and left her alone.

Alexis felt like she was standing on the verge of a precipice and had no idea if it was better to jump or stand still.

TIH: @yukinagato2012 @ao719 @kingliam2019 @texaskitten30 @cordonia-gothqueen @bebepac @nomadics-stuff @cordonianroyalty @msjr0119​ @forthebrokenheartedthings​  @bascmve01​ @gibbles82​

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[megalony]

Safe House- Part 2

Here is the follow-up part for my murderer! Ben Hardy imagine which I hope you will all like, thank you for the lovely feedback on the first part. This is quite a long part.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex

Murderer! Ben masterlist

Part 1

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) go to a secluded safe house when something happens at his work. But (Y/n) is nine months pregnant and worries staying for too long may mean going into labour with no one around.

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(Y/n) felt like there was a storm raging inside her head the moment her blurry eyes managed to form a proper picture of where she was and what was happening around her. The last thing she remembered was her head aiming for the wooden table near the stairs and Ben's ferocious grip on her arm before everything seemed to switch off like a tv being unplugged.

Focusing her eyes and trying to sort out her rapid breathing, (Y/n) felt her heartbeat increasing when she saw Ben kneeling in front of her. There was a look of both relief and worry in his eyes that was a bit unsettling due to the fact that he almost always had an unreadable expression on his face. Showing or even feeling emotion wasn't something Ben was usually likely to do.

"You passed out when you hit your head... you've been out for about ten minutes."

(Y/n) pressed her face into the cushion beneath her head as she soon realised that she was laid out on the sofa. Ben must have moved her when she fell unconscious due to his temper and controlling nature. As if a switch had flicked on in her head, (Y/n)'s hand shot down to rest over her protruding stomach like she was checking the baby was still there and safe. A swell of relief pulsed through her when she could feel the baby moving, meaning that they were okay and hopefully unharmed.

The moment Ben gingerly reached his hand out to try and brush a strand of hair from her eyes, (Y/n) smacked his hand away with as much force as her weak body could muster. A cry of both sadness and pain left her lips as she forced her first into his chest but it didn't seem to make much of an impact on him at all. He didn't even move which made her more frustrated than anything else.

"I'd be safer away from you." (Y/n) choked out, speaking the words quietly but in a tone that cut through Ben and caused his expression to change. He never meant to hurt her, he didn't intend to push her or bruise her or handle her roughly like he did, it just seemed to happen.

(Y/n)'s breath hitched in her throat as she turned her head away from her husband, pressing her hand to her mouth to stop a cry from escaping as a few loose tears made their way down her features. She knew he didn't mean to hurt her but he just did and she was having a baby, she didn't want anything to happen to their baby that Ben didn't seem to care for as much as she did. Closing her eyes, (Y/n) rested her hand against her stomach that felt tight like her muscles were strings that were being pulled and stretched.

"You don't mean that." (Y/n) was unsure if Ben was pleading with her to agree with him or if he was stating a point but either way they both knew he was probably right. But at the moment, (Y/n) didn't care if she meant it or not, he had hurt her and he could have hurt the baby too if he had knocked her just a bit harder.

Reaching out (Y/n) grabbed one of the cushions and held it to her chest and stomach, tucking her chin into the cushion as she closed her eyes.

"What if you hurt them?" (Y/n) slowly opened her eyes, managing to see Ben through the floods of tears that were now pouring from her eyes. Ben could have done some sort of damage to the baby, he could have done some damage to (Y/n) without either of them realising it. She was due to have the baby any day now and Ben could have just made things ten times worse.

"I didn't... I wouldn't purposely push you, I'm just trying to keep you safe." Ben's lips pursed in a way that made his features look strained because he wanted- he needed, (Y/n) to believe him. He didn't push her, he tried to pull her closer to him he didn't mean for her to fall like she did or to bash her head. He had reached down to try and stop her so she didn't bash her stomach to try and protect the baby, all Ben wanted was for them to be safe, that's why they are all here.

Reaching over, Ben ever so gently held onto (Y/n)'s shoulder and slipped his other arm under her chest so he could try and ease her so she was sitting up rather than lying down. (Y/n)'s body seemed to be made of jelly as she didn't hold the energy to even hold her head up but she didn't need to, Ben kept her upright. He held her in a sitting position before he got up and sat down in the small space he'd created before easing (Y/n) back down so she was leaning against him. Thankful when she didn't pull away but he knew she was too tired and weak to do that.

He never meant to hurt her, it just happened and she was right. If he used that little bit more force or if he pushed her once more he could have done some damage. Ben rested his chin on her shoulder, turning his head so he could kiss her neck as if he was silently apologising to her. When he kissed his way up to her jaw he could feel (Y/n)'s anger slowly beginning to melt away.

He wrapped his arms around her middle, keeping them loose around her frame when (Y/n) whimpered the moment he touched her side that was clearly bruised or sensitive.

After a while, (Y/n) took Ben's hand in her own and for a moment he thought she was going to throw his arm away from her, but she didn't. She moved his hand lower down her abdomen instead so he could feel the baby moving. He began rubbing his hand up and down her stomach, pressing his fingertips a bit firmer against her skin like some kind of massage when he noticed (Y/n) shifting like she was in some sort of discomfort or pain. Every time he felt the baby wriggling or kicking he stopped his movements and rested his palm against her stomach.

They stayed like that for quite a while, no words passing between them even when (Y/n) took the tv remote and turned a random channel on to add some background noise. Her stomach was hurting and it felt like she was going to turn stiff and have a lot of bruising, but Ben's massage was helping.

(Y/n) didn't know how long they had been sat there since both of them seemed to drift in and out of sleep but she guessed a few hours must have gone by. She slowly moved Ben's arm that was resting limply around her frame since he was now asleep and slowly sat up, stretching her arms above her head as she rolled her shoulders to wake the muscles up. She winced as all of her muscles felt taught and tense like they were cramped and squashed into a small space or position.

Pushing herself to her feet, (Y/n) rubbed at her lower back where she hit the sofa earlier, trying to relieve the tension as she made her way very slowly into the kitchen to get a drink. Her legs were weak like jelly and she felt like she was going to collapse at any moment, she knew that as soon as she got her drink she would need to go back and sit down quickly.

Glancing out of the window when she got a glass of water, (Y/n) noticed that the rain seemed to be coming down heavier than it was earlier this morning. Her eyes watched the water fall like sprays of bullets attacking the soil and grass as she took a few sips of the cold water that felt soothing to her system. A gasp suddenly escaped her lips as the glass fell from her grasp and landed in the sink causing an awful shattering sound to vibrate through her ears which sent shivers running up and down her spine. Her eyes snapped closed as her left hand stayed hovering over the sink but her right hand pressed to her stomach.

"(Y/n), what's happened?" Ben's alert and slightly stern voice found her ears as she had clearly woken him up and in what felt like no time at all, she felt his chest pressing up against her back and his hands resting on her shoulders.

He glanced his eyes around, unsure if (Y/n) had suddenly seen or heard something that had spooked or frightened her or if she simply just smashed something by mistake. He looked over at the window and the back door in front of them but there was nothing but the downpour of rain that could be seen. Turning his attention back to his wife, Ben looked at her hand hovering over the sink like she thought she was still holding the glass.

"Baby, you cut your hand." He commented quietly as he reached out and turned on the tap before taking her hand in his own to hold under the water seeing that a few small specs of glass had cut her palm and around her thumb. It wasn't anything extensive or deep though which was relieving. "Come on, talk to me." There was a sigh entwined with his words as he thought she was still ignoring him or giving him the silent treatment because she knew he couldn't stand it. But when a whimper passed through (Y/n)'s lips, Ben's eyes scanned the kitchen again just to check for any threats before he leaned over her shoulder to gain a better look at her as he turned off the tap.

His eyes followed her line of sight when she tilted her head down and his blood ran cold when they both came to focus on the same thing.

(Y/n)'s waters had broken.

"Let's get you sat down." Ben's voice was oddly calm but it was a very big contrast to how he felt on the inside. He tried to slowly turn (Y/n) around so he could guide her back to the sofa but (Y/n) wouldn't move an inch.

Tears started to fall from her eyes that she couldn't find it in herself to wipe away as she just stared down at the floor like there had been some kind of mistake or like she was waiting to wake up from a dream. She knew this was going to happen. (Y/n) just knew she was going to have the baby whilst they were here, from the moment Ben had told her to pack a few things and ushered her out the house she knew something was going to happen or go wrong and now it had.

"Doctor." (Y/n) breathed, reaching her hand back to grasp onto Ben's arm and pull on the limb harshly trying to get his attention.

"I want you to sit down first before you fall down. When the contractions happen and things start moving then I'll call for help." Ben turned (Y/n) around, keeping his arms around her as he walked her slowly back through to the lounge. He could feel her wanting to protest against his words but she either didn't have the patience to argue or she was concentrating too much to even bother trying.

A whine escaped (Y/n)'s lips as she reached out for the sofa to steady herself when what she could only guess was a contraction suddenly tore through her like it was trying to split her apart. Her legs started to shake as she could feel herself caving in and crumbling down until Ben held her weight up for her, shifting his arms around her so he could ease her down onto the sofa before sitting next to her. Glancing his eyes to the watch on his wrist to check the time of the contraction. He didn't know much about labour but he remembered the few things (Y/n) had said and what the midwife had said when they were at checkups.

Ben wasn't calling for a midwife or a doctor now when labour had only just started because they both knew this was going to take hours. He wasn't having help come round and be here for ages and risk them recognising him and calling the police or making a fuss. The less time anyone was here the better.

"W-what have you done?" (Y/n) whispered the words as she tipped her head back against the sofa as the contraction wore off.

"I'm sorry I hurt you and the baby sweetheart but they were late and they need to come sooner or later. Just try and breathe deeply for me because we can't stop this now."

(Y/n) let out a broken sob as she shut her eyes tightly to try and fight off the tears. They couldn't expect the baby to be right on time and it was just pot luck that they had to wait two extra weeks until labour started. If they were back home labour wouldn't be a problem it would be a much-welcomed experience but right now it wasn't. She knew she couldn't blame Ben entirely because he was right in the sense that the baby would be coming any day now and they did need them to come now so they knew there wasn't anything wrong. But he had still caused the labour to start now and he could have done some damage. 

Ben tried rubbing his hand up and down her arm but she simply pulled away from him in pain and annoyance. In (Y/n)'s mind, this was still Ben's fault no matter what he said or did.

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"I- I don't want to." (Y/n) protested feebly as she shook her head, her half-lidded eyes locking with Ben's as he pressed his lips into a thin line. He knew she didn't want to move and it was clear she didn't have a lot of energy left due to the dizziness she was feeling from passing out and the pain. But if they stayed here on the sofa much longer Ben knew the baby would be born here and he would much rather (Y/n) be upstairs in bed where she would be comfier and a bit more at ease.

"Baby I'll carry you up there if you want but we're not staying down here."

They had been sat down here for three hours and in that time (Y/n) seemed to slump further and further down the sofa until she looked like she was about to slide onto the floor. It was warmer upstairs and it was getting towards the evening now anyway, they needed to get ready because the contractions were getting closer together.

Biting down on her bottom lip, (Y/n) felt her muscles tightening but she gave in and held her hand out to Ben, knowing he was right. She was uncomfy and unsettled on the sofa anyway, it would be better to go upstairs.

Leaning over her, Ben took both her hands in his own and slowly pulled on her arms to help ease her to her feet but he noticed the moment she was stood up her knees were shaking like twigs that were about to snap. He kept his arms tightly around her frame but when they started to walk he felt like he was dragging her and he didn't want to do that in case he hurt her. Turning her head, (Y/n) buried her face in his chest as she dug her nails into his arms that were wrapped around her like vines.

She wanted to scream, to shout and to hit him and tell him this was all his fault but (Y/n) knew that she needed Ben with her now because she couldn't do this on her own.

When they reached the stairs, (Y/n) unravelled one arm from Ben so she could hold onto the bannister, wanting something to pull herself up because she was losing the will to keep moving. They managed to get halfway up the stairs before (Y/n) shook her head, crying out as she twisted around so she could sit down on the step and wait out the contraction that hit her like a train.

"Sshh, it's okay, it's alright." Ben pressed his lips to the top of her head when a scream left (Y/n)'s lips that shook him to the core. (Y/n) had never seen Ben be so affectionate or caring like this before, even at scans or just late-night hugs he wasn't quite like this.

(Y/n) rubbed her hand over her lower abdomen, applying a bit of pressure to see if it would help relieve the tension or the pain as the contraction slowly started to subside. Her head fell onto Ben's shoulder as she felt like she was going to pass out as everything seemed to blur to the point she couldn't understand nor really hear what he was saying to her. Her body shivered when Ben slipped his hands under her arms and hoisted her to her feet, only to have her legs give out almost causing Ben to stumble with her in his arms.

Ben just about managed to turn himself and (Y/n) around before he leaned herself onto his chest so he could start heading back up the stairs. (Y/n)'s feet scuffed against the carpeted steps but she managed to lift her legs up enough as she started to feel like gravity had its hold back on her again.

When they reached one of the bedrooms, Ben flicked the light on before heading inside with (Y/n) in his arms. He was about to help her onto the bed but she shook her head which confused him. Ben held onto (Y/n)'s waist for support and to make sure she didn't fall as she leaned forward and planted her hands down on the bed, arching her back out like she was stretching or doing yoga.

Taking a deep breath, (Y/n) slowly lowered herself down until she was kneeling on the carpet in front of the bed, looking up when Ben let go of her so he could sit down on the bed next to her arms.

"Can y-you call the doctor now?" (Y/n) whimpered helplessly through the words she wanted to scream at her husband who had declined her request over the past three hours each time she had asked. She knew the contractions had been far apart earlier but they were getting closer together now and that meant the baby was getting closer to being born and they needed help.

She did admit that Ben was being more understanding and more helpful than she thought he would all except for contacting any form of help. The contractions were becoming closer and closer together and (Y/n) didn't like it because they were alone here in an isolated house in the middle of nowhere. If something went wrong no one was going to be able to help.

Tipping her head forward against her folded arms, (Y/n) arched her back out as a groan mixed with a scream tore from the back of her throat. She was sat on her knees in front of the bed with her arms folded over the mattress like she was praying but it was beginning to ease the pain and it felt better than sitting on the sofa had done earlier.

"I'll try and find the number, I don't know the local doctor round here and I can't bloody well call our doctor in London." Ben responded and although his words were snappy his tone was a lot calmer than (Y/n) had expected it to be. He got his phone out of his back pocket and began scrolling on the internet but the signal was terrible due to the raging storm outside. He needed the number for any doctor or midwife around here but he couldn't find one and he only had their doctor in London on his phone.

Ben got up from the bed and wandered over to one of the cupboards as he continued to scroll on his phone. He grabbed a pile of towels and some flannels and sheets that were piled in there and dumped them all on the bed. His eyes followed (Y/n) as she immediately grabbed a towel and started to lay it out on the floor before moving so she was kneeling on it and resumed her previous position.

"I think I got one baby, give me two minutes." Ben pressed his lips to the top of her head, running his fingers through her hair before he left the room, dialling the number he managed to scout out.

(Y/n) breathed deeply through the next contraction before she slowly stretched up and grabbed the hem of the cover on the bed. She pulled the cover back to the end of the bed and started moving a few towels and sheets over the bed for when she was ready to push. Swallowing harshly, (Y/n) closed her eyes as she shrugged off her cardigan and jumper so she was wearing one of Ben's plain button-up shirts and her bra, having already kicked off her leggings and underwear downstairs.

The room wasn't that warm even though the heater was on but (Y/n) felt like she was on fire, beads of sweat were already forming on her skin that was burning bright red like a traffic light.

"Baby," There was hesitation in Ben's tone as he kneeled down beside (Y/n) when he came back into the room. "Midwife's on her way, but she's gonna be a few hours due to the storm." Ben didn't like the way (Y/n)'s head snapped to look at his own and the rage and pain in her eyes made him want to cry.

"No... no, y-you can't do this to me. What if s-something happens? I can't, I can't do this..." (Y/n) broke off with a sob as she tipped her head back like she was crying at the ceiling. The baby would be born in a few hours, if the midwife wasn't here soon it would be (Y/n) and Ben doing this on their own and this was (Y/n)'s worst nightmare that she simply knew was going to come true one day this week.

"If anything happens I'll call the doctor's office she gave me the number for it. I have a website on my phone to check and you're halfway through already... you'll have to make do with me because I can't drive you anywhere in this storm and no one can get here any quicker. I'm sorry." There was sincerity in Ben's voice but it only calmed one of the thousand nerves going haywire in (Y/n)'s system. An on-call doctor was a good thing in case something went wrong or they got worried but it wasn't the same and being alone like this was only good for intimacy because (Y/n) felt safe around Ben.

Websites and phone calls couldn't compare to the actual midwife being present. But there was nothing else they could do.

"Right, shall we get you on the bed now?"

"No, I- I want to stay here." (Y/n) pressed her burning forehead against the cold sheet covering the mattress that felt rather calming and soothing against her skin. She felt Ben's hand rubbing over her lower back as his other hand skimmed over her arm.

"That's fine, we'll chill here for a while. It's all gonna be fine." Ben kissed her shoulder, feeling just how hot her skin was against his own. He sat down on the floor with his back up against the bed, his hands rubbing over her skin to try and be helpful as he knew they would be sitting here for a while.

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Tipping her head back against the pillow, (Y/n) took as many deep breaths as she could manage but her lungs were on fire. They were burning like she was breathing in smoke and she could feel her lungs inflating and deflating which was something (Y/n) never normally felt and it was horrible.

Her blurring eyes watched Ben as he paced up and down the room, his phone pressed to his ear as he seemed to be arguing with the doctor on the other end of the line. The midwife still wasn't here and (Y/n) was at the stage of needing to push, by the time the midwife arrived they would already be done and dusted and have their baby in their arms at this rate.

(Y/n)'s body jumped when Ben threw the phone with a growl, both of them watching as it collided with the wardrobe before scattering onto the floor.

"Signals gone." He muttered in annoyance before he sat down on the end of the bed, dragging his nails through his hair to brush the curling strands out of his eyes.

"Y-you'll have to do then."

(Y/n) shook her head but she was past the point of caring about that now, someone would turn up to help them eventually but right now Ben was the only one here who was able to do something and to help so he needed to help. When another contraction tore through her already broken body, (Y/n) pushed her head further back into the pillow as she let out a scream. Her eyes snapped closed but a small wave of relief shot through her when she felt Ben's hand taking her own.

"Baby, baby stop pushing." Ben's words confused (Y/n) as she opened her eyes to look at him, seeing something in his eyes that made her worried but she couldn't do what he said. The pains were excruciating but she felt better when she pushed, she wanted the baby out now.

"It hurts." (Y/n) breathed through the word as she finally stopped pushing when the pain subsided for a moment.

"I know but I can't see the head-"

"That's the point o... of pushing." (Y/n) groaned as she spoke, her eyes narrowing on her husband as she wondered if he was trying purposely to wind her up right now. The whole point of pushing was to get the baby into the world, if he couldn't see the head then (Y/n) had to continue.

"Don't take the piss. It's the wrong way round, the legs are coming first." The look on Ben's face made (Y/n) shudder because she could see all the emotions he was feeling and she knew each of them too well. He looked almost annoyed at their baby as if it was their fault that they were now making labour that much harder. But there was a sense of sorrow in his eyes that linked with guilt because Ben knew that he was most likely the cause of this. He had caused labour to happen now and the baby clearly wasn't in the right position or had been and had then moved just as labour happened.

A sob left (Y/n)'s lips as she relaxed all of her muscles instead of holding them tensed, feeling like she was sinking into the mattress that she wanted to swallow her whole. She remembered reading about babies being born breached like this, they could get stuck or they could try and breathe whilst their head wasn't born and suffocate. (Y/n) felt like she was going to be sick at the thought of the baby getting stuck when there was no professional here who would be able to help.

"I c... I can't just wait here Ben." (Y/n) whimpered as she felt her lips pulling down at the corners trying to release another sob. She could already feel her stomach tensing and the muscles tearing, it was going to be physically impossible for her to not push on the next contraction. She couldn't just lie here and wait for the midwife who could be another hour or more, she had to push.

"I never said you had to." He quipped back, his words and his movements causing (Y/n)'s tired, bleak eyes to narrow as she watched him get up off the bed and move so he was standing beside her. "Sit up for me." (Y/n) wasn't sure if she liked how concerned and gentle Ben was being right now because she wasn't used to this side of him. In his sweetest moments with her, Ben still had an air of confidence and ignorance about him, he was always cold and calculated but right now he wasn't and it was unsettling but welcomed all the same.

Her eyes locked with his own and he saw the hesitation in her eyes but she held onto his arms which slipped around her waist so he could sit her up instead of her lying back against the mountain of pillows.

Confusion rattled through (Y/n) when Ben helped her shuffle over until she was sitting up on the edge of the bed with her feet hanging off and barely touching the carpet. Her head tilted up to look at him, her eyes clearly showing him she didn't know what train of thought he was on but she wanted to join.

"This is the safer position... if they get stuck, gravity will," Ben motioned with his hand to imply that if something did happen to the baby, gravity would have a hold on them and it would help them be born. He remembered either hearing or reading this somewhere and it was the best option they had right now.

When (Y/n) cried out and tucked her chin into her chest, Ben kneeled down in front of her, grabbing a few towels to place around and have ready before he dared look again and see if the baby was any closer to being born yet. (Y/n) dug her hands into the mattress to the point she could feel her nails scraping through into the fabric as she tried hard to hold herself steady but she felt like she was going to fall forward into Ben.

"I'm sorry."

(Y/n) looked down at Ben with narrowed eyes, wondering what he was apologising for since he hated having to admit he was wrong or saying sorry and she didn't know what he was sorry about. He had already gruffly said he was sorry about all of this happening now, Ben was not the kind of person so say sorry twice.

But she quickly realised what he meant, crying out in response to the sudden pain Ben couldn't help but make worse. His hands were both shaking horribly as he reached out and held onto the newborn's legs that he could see, having to pull them out properly since they were curled up against the baby's torso and stomach so they didn't get caught or stuck.

"You okay?" Ben tilted his head up to lock eyes with her but his hands stayed shakily holding onto the baby's lower half. He didn't like it, he didn't want to be doing this. Ben felt like his hands were covered in glue or slime that was sticking them to the baby and it made his stomach churn. He could handle blood and guts when he hurt or shot people but this was something else entirely that he wasn't used to, it was something he didn't want to get used to.

"Hmm." (Y/n) hummed back, nodding her head as she closed her eyes, digging her hands a bit more into the bed to stabilise herself as she felt another contraction building up.

(Y/n) shivered, feeling her stomach muscles tightening when Ben had to pull on the baby's arms to make sure they too didn't get stuck or bent or caught in the way. The moment Ben let go of the baby with one hand to reach out for a towel, his head snapped back to look at (Y/n) as she cried, her foot beginning to tap against the carpet as she squirmed like she couldn't manage to sit still.

"I don't like it." (Y/n) breathed, her legs pulling up a little as she continued to squirm around. It was like there was a weight tied to her and it was pulling on her and causing pain. When another pain hit, (Y/n) hit her hand against Ben's shoulder to grab his attention before she started to push again, suddenly feeling the weight lifting from her body but she didn't know if it was a good feeling or not.

"Oh shit."

"What? W-what's wrong?" (Y/n) leaned her head down to try and see what was happening as Ben took their newborn baby into his arms and set them down in the blanket on his lap. Her stomach tensed as she watched him quickly unravel the cord that had pressed around the baby's neck but (Y/n) didn't know if it had been tight or rather loose. She didn't know if that had happened during the struggle of labour or if possibly it had been like that before. But it couldn't have been, she felt the baby moving so it couldn't have been strangling them for very long.

"It's alright..." Ben seemed to be speaking to himself more than to (Y/n) as he fumbled to grab the pair of scissors he had found downstairs earlier. He hastily cut the cord before he turned the baby on their side so he could rub his hand up and down their back to get them breathing.

(Y/n) felt her chest heaving as she tried to regain back the breaths that she had lost or held in for too long but her eyes were focusing on Ben as much as they could with the tears beginning to distort her vision. The moment a small cry flooded through the air, both parents felt like they were going to faint.

"She's okay." Ben wrapped the towel around his baby girl, rubbing his hands over her frame to make sure she wasn't cold or still in some state of shock.

When he tilted his head up to look at (Y/n), the grin on his features was like none (Y/n) had ever seen before. He didn't look like the devil kneeling in front of her or like a mad man with eyes of darkness who was about to unleash a whole new sense of pain onto his victim. He looked... like someone capable of a sense of love Ben had never shown before.

Pushing himself up on his knees, Ben leaned over and ever so gently settled the newborn into (Y/n)'s arms before he grabbed another towel ready for the placenta.

He scrubbed his hands and arms so furiously against a towel that he almost rubbed off a layer of skin but it was one of his habits that (Y/n) had seen many times before. Ben didn't like to get his hands dirty and if he got a victim's blood on his hands he wouldn't stop rubbing or scratching or washing them until every little speck had gone.

Ben's legs were the ones to turn to jelly this time around as he slowly sat down on the bed next to (Y/n), his eyes focusing on the bundle in her arms who was way overdue. Turning her head, (Y/n) leaned her head on Ben's shoulder as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. His arm wrapped around her back so he could rest his hand on their girl's head, brushing his thumb over the small tufts of hair he could see.

"We did good."

[iamnotbrianmay]

The A Experience

Okay before any of you say anything... I'm sorry for taking so long!

This story has just been my baby for so long and I was so scared to mess it up in the last few chapter so I'm sorry sorry sorry! Also I have such a big audience with so many people that are enjoying this story that I don't want to disappoint ANY of you!

So sorry for being a chicken and not posting this earlier <3

Also! I'm sorry if I haven't been answering your comments but the response to this thing has been phenomenal and right now I have about 441 notifs on my inbox so yeah that might take a while to come back to you! However, know that I love and appreciate every single one of you and your comments, some of them have even made me cry!

The taglist goes as follows: : @seven-seas-of-why, @twotitsjohndeacon, @dancindeaky, @gee-uloser, @mozzarellamazzello, @mozzie-s, @deracine-dogma-deux, @shutupanddontjudge, @warping-reality, @demianhill , @zodiacal-dust-and-curls, @hersked

❤︎

By the time night falls, the house is full of people. Brian realises that half of Roger’s family looks a lot like the blonde, which means that he is now the only brunette in a house of seemingly perfect blue-eyed, blonde, angels. The only one other person who is not blonde is little Anthony, who is currently gurgling in Brian’s lap while munching a cookie his mother had given him.

He wished he could give the kid much more attention than what he was getting at the moment. However, Roger’s family was very interested in the guitarist at the moment, leaving him unable to play with the toddler.  

“So you placed an ad? In Tinder?” Oliver, Roger’s twenty-something-year-old cousin asked, and Brian scrunched his nose up.

“It was hardly an ad,” Roger interrupted, “that would imply that Brian offered to pay me anything.”

The whole family laughed, and the blush Brian was sporting spread from his face to his neck, “Not something I’m proud about now that time has passed.”

Winniefred wiped the corners of her eyes and smiled at Brian, “Don’t be ashamed, darling. It has to be the cutest story I’ve ever heard.”

Most of the family members agreed, and as Roger sat down beside him, the conversation focus changed from Brian to the stories of the rest of the family members. His boyfriend snuggled up to Brian’s side, “I think they like you a lot.”

Brian smiled, “Good, that’s good. I was scared shitless that they would think I was annoying or something similar.”

“I don’t think anyone could find you annoying.”

“You say that now,” Brian mumbled, placing a kiss of Roger’s hairline, “wait until we get back to the studio.”

The blonde laughed and agreed with Brian almost immediately. The guitarist let the conversation of the rest of the family wash over their silence. He admired the way that they had made Brian feel more than included in the few hours that they had spent together. From the moment that Roger’s cousin Charlie and his wife Rose had arrived. To the moment that Roger’s grandparents had smiled at Brian and enveloped him in a warm hug.

He hadn’t told Roger yet, but he had been scared that his family wouldn’t welcome him in, not because of his personality, but because he was a man. He knew that his own family wouldn’t be as accepting as Roger’s. That his grandparents would refuse to meet the blonde and that his parents would be rather adamant that this was only a fling. That Roger should enjoy Brian while he found a suitable wife and fell in love, really in love.

“What are you thinking about, Brimi?”

Brian turned towards Roger and found that the blonde was looking at him with wide and inquisitive eyes and his usual pout. He wanted to kiss the blonde senseless, but held himself back for the time being, “Thank you for bringing me to meet your family.”

“Of course,” Roger said, “I think it was time, I’m not planning on letting you go for a while.”

Brian blushed again, “Really?”

Roger didn’t answer, but instead looked around his family and met his mother’s eyes.

“I’m going to take Brian to my spot.” Several wolf whistles rang around the room, and Roger rolled his eyes, “Oh, get your mind out of the gutter. I want to show him the stars.”

It was only after several lewd comments and a few minutes of laughter that he finally managed to follow the blonde out of the house. The English countryside was breathtaking at night.

The air smelled of sweet Night-Blooming Jasmine, the breeze was soft, ruffling both of their hairs gently, and the chill that set all across the countryside seeped into their bones. Fireflies buzzed all around them, making the ground seem like an extension of the night sky.

The Taylor property seemed to extend for miles. Hills of green grass and tall trees which seemed to blend into the darkness of the night littered the place, making it look like something out of a movie rather than real life.

Roger grabbed his hand so that the taller man wouldn’t get lost in the darkness. The blonde seemed to know the terrain so well that he didn’t need the light of the sun to guide his way, “My cousins and I used to play every night out in the open. I don’t know how none of us ended up with a broken bone.”

Brian chuckled, “A miracle.”

“Now I can walk through this place without tripping, but there used to be a time in which my knees were always scrapped.”

The taller man looked around once again, taking in the view, “It’s quite beautiful.”

“You haven’t seen anything,” Roger said, “just wait until we get to the seaside.”

As Roger promised, the seaside was breathtaking, to say the least. The coast extended as far as the eye could see, bringing in the salty air and the soft rumbling of breaking waves. The sand was thick, sticking to the side of Brian’s shoes and even managing to get inside his socks.

Roger dragged him to a place on the beach where they could see everything from the old farmhouse to the farthest point in the coastline and made them sit down. But most definitely, the most beautiful part of the whole ordeal was the stars.

They were scattered across the night sky, lighting up the place and making the most beautiful sight Brian had ever seen. He had never seen as many stars as he saw now, and the mere thought of how many more he could see if he were farther away from the city left him breathless.

He could see everything from Orion to Aquila, even bits of the Milky Way if he strained his eyes hard enough. He wanted to thank the younger man, but he couldn’t find the voice to do so. It was… well, Brian didn’t have the words to describe how he felt as he watched the night sky.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Roger’s voice sounded quiet in the vastness of the night.

“I haven’t seen anything like it,” Brian whispered back, “Ever. It’s the most beautiful thing in the world.”

The blonde chuckled, “I knew you’d appreciate it. Not many like the place as much as I do.”

Brian frowned, looking down at the younger man and trying to make out his features in the dark, “Who wouldn’t like this?”

“Oh, you’d be surprised.”

Silence washed over them, the wordless spaces being filled by the soft sound of the breaking waves and the faint whistling of the air. At some point his best friend curled around him, tucking his head into the crook of the guitarist’s neck and nuzzling into his soft hair.

“You know, I wasn’t kidding.”

Brian turned to look at the mass of blonde hair, “About what.”

Roger turned towards him, and in their proximity, Brian could make out his features entirely, “About wanting to keep you for a long, long, time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

There was a short silence in which Brian tried to map the entirety of Roger’s face in the dim light of the stars. His boyfriend looked so incredibly pretty that for a second, he missed what Roger was saying, however when his brain finally caught up, his breath was stolen from his lungs.

“I’m also not kidding when I say that I’m more than ready to start everything I have been stalling.”

Brian blinked twice, “You mean—?”

“Yes,” Roger said, “I mean Kissing, snogging, groping, even— well, everything we haven’t been doing for the past eight months.”

Brian leaned back out of Roger’s, admittedly crappy, eyesight, “Okay, not that I’m not extremely excited for this new development but, you have to remember that this will be my first kiss ever.

“Well, unless you count that one time after our date at the restaurant, which was not really a kiss since it lasted about one second, and you didn’t even fully kiss my mouth but just the corner of it. So I’m sorry if the kiss is sloppy, or too slow or—”

Roger placed a finger against the guitarist’s lips, making him stop his adorable rambling, “Can I kiss you now?”

Brian's eyes widened, then he slowly nodded, too stunned to say anything. The blonde slowly lowered his finger and looked into Brian’s eyes. Needless to say, they were both terrified.

Roger took a deep breath, willing his beating heart to stop beating so wildly while Brian tried to swallow down his rising panic. The blonde leaned forward, and the guitarist closed his eyes, waiting for what was about to come, but Roger hesitated a few centimetres away from the other man’s face.

The stars shone down from the bright night sky, the waves crashed into the seashore making a soft, rumbling, back noise, the wind whistled softly as it passed between the countless blades of grass and tree branches, and Roger pressed their lips together.

❤︎

I hope you enjoyed that! Next chapter will be picking up right where we left off!

Big thanks to my lovely beta Rose, I love you a lot darling!

Comments, Kudos, and Feedback is always appreciated.

[leather-n-laces]

Beth/Dwight - The Drabbles Begin

A little while ago while working on the start of a Bethyl fic I became enamored with a very out of the blue, what if sort of idea. In the Bethyl fic, Beth is a Savior. She knows and will interact with Dwight because of their respective positions. I love both characters dearly and I got to thinking - what would happen if they ever met? For obvious reasons that never happened on the show. Thank god for fanfiction, right?

 I'm working with the idea of Savior Beth. She survives the gunshot and eventually leaves Grady where shortly after, her group is picked up by the Saviors. I believe Beth and Dwight would be an interesting dynamic, I'm finally starting to take a proper crack at this. I'm considering writing either a full blown fic or a series of oneshots (maybe both) featuring these two are your starring pairing. My writing is unbeta'd and I am far, far from a pro. I just do this for fun. Let me know what you guys think! Seriously, I would absolutely love feedback on this because it's totally uncharted territory for me. This is a chunk of a drabble/chapter I'm currently playing with.

“What are you doing here? Do you need something?”

 Beth doesn't jump, but she knows that he had. Dr. Carson is flighty. She can’t blame him, given his living situation. The people he tends to and the man he has to answer to. She’d have anxiety, too if she were in his position.

“Is he in there?” She doesn’t bother looking back at him, just shoves her hands into the pocket of her long open faced cardigan.

She knows the look she’s going to be getting. A mixture of shock and confusion, probably. Realistically it’s mostly confusion. She know’s he’s in there, because he’s not anywhere else. Not fit to be anywhere else, really. Maybe in a day or two they’ll move him – sooner if someone else fucks up and they need the room for a more urgent case.

After that display, Beth’s sure all will be quiet in the Sanctuary for some time. There’s just something about watching a man have a portion of his face ironed away that spreads peace throughout the lands.

“It’s late,” Dr. Carson mumbles.  

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Seeing this isn’t going to help with that.”

Now Beth shoots him a look. It doesn’t sound mean, it’s just...sad mostly. His tone. She knows full well what to expect. Like every other person in this place she had seen it happen with her own two eyes.

Beth only shrugs. The door is unlocked, she’s already tried the handle. It’s just polite to ask.

“Fine, go ahead.”

Aside from the doctor she knows that she might just be the only person who has come to seen him. Everyone else is too busy talking. Tina is dead and Sherry...she’s otherwise occupied. He shouldn’t be alone.

There’s already a chair beside the bed, not that it’s likely anyone’s sat in it yet. Beth approaches the bed like she may have a wild animal, like the occupant may just rise up any minute and take a bite. He’s asleep, he looks far from restful but he doesnt’ move when she comes in closer and she’s not trying to be quiet – not like it’s really something she has to try for.

She’d been there, she’d seen it. She knew full well what was under that extensive amount of gauze. She can’t help but wonder how many points that will set him back. She has some, enough for one person. Maybe she can settle up until he’s back on his feet.

Since Tina’s dead and Sherry’s gone.

He’d always been kind to her. She knew him, before. Not well but she’d known him.

Now they’ll be more alike than ever, she thinks bitterly as she leans back into the chair. They already have the matching memories, now they’ll both have facial scars.

Granted hers are different, the worst is underneath her chin, just at the jaw line and the top of her head. Then there’s those gashes. It’s enough to garner a stare or two, it had been enough to save her from Negan. 

Hers will pale in comparison.

He broke the rules.

It was admirable, what he’d done. Absolutely the dumbest thing she’s ever heard, but the fact that he’d been brave enough to go through with it. That’s something. Stupid, but it’s still something.

It made her wonder if anyone would do that for her. Not now, obviously not now. She and Edwards aren’t friends, Tina’s dead, Sherry’s gone and Dwight...

Maybe before. She’d had people before. According to the officers at the hospital, there’s no way she would have survived without because look at her. Someone had to have watched over her, had her back.

That’s not what she’s wondering about. She knows there’s been people. That’s obvious because look at her. She’s a delicate looking slip of a thing

She’s wondering if she’s ever had someone like him. Someone who loved her enough to defy someone like Negan.

Then again, maybe she hadn’t. Her group, whoever she was with, they’d just left her behind like garbage. That’s the story she’s been told. She doesn’t think she’s ever had a Dwight.

There’s some complications, a minor infection. He’s got a fever and has to stay confined.

This is the third night in a row she’s taken up post at his bedside. Each time, he’s been asleep.

She doesn’t expect any different tonight so she settles into her chair. She just sits there mostly. Sometimes she talks, sometimes she sings. Not loud enough to wake him but just enough to cut through the silence.

Beth’s been there for about an hour, fighting the urge to sleep because these visits are cutting into her nap time. When she finally starts to nod off she hears it, and almost jumps out of her skin.

“Shouldn’t be here.”

Beth shrugs, which she’s not sure he can see with his position and the fact that the only light source in the room is coming from a spotlight outside the window.

“Can’t sleep.” It’s all she offers him.

“Singin’ to me help that?”

Oh.

So he had heard her. Beth isn’t sure that she can even explain why she’s here, not properly. Just felt like she needed to be, like it was the best possible use of her time.

Outside of Dr. Edwards she’s more or less convinced no one had sat at her bedside and talked to her. After all, the stories goes that whoever had her had just left her to die. Tossed her away like garbage. When she had woken up it had been to an empty hospital room and not another person in sight. She had been so scared, and so lonely. The other’s at Grady didn’t like her much, either. Seemed to go out of their way to avoid her if she’s being perfectly honest with herself. There was no one at her bedside ever. No one who cared enough to comfort her. 

It had almost made her wish that she hadn’t woken up at all. She had lost everything when she had been shot. That’s the impression she had gotten. Dwight would be waking up to a world where he had terrible scars, where his wife and sister in law had both been cruelly ripped away from him. Just like her, he would be alone. 

It’s a feeling she wants to save him from. If not save, at least lessen.  It’s not a feeling that anyone deserves. 

[shazyloren]

The Dragon Club: Chapter 4 - Wine and Dine

Summary:  Jon Snow is an online blogger who gets an interview with the sort after Daenerys Targaryen, the Editor of Valyrian, a multi-million dollar fashion magazine. He'd heard so much about the silver-haired and silver-tongued woman and he running of her business; he would have to be smart to get anything more than five minutes. Will he be safe walking into the Dragon's lair or will he get thrown to the Lions?

Link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/12018519/chapters/27290892

------

Daenerys glared at the TV as E! News reported the sensational news of Jon Snow's blog. It was two days after their fiasco interview and Dany woke up seething after receiving phone call after phone call from news outlets wanting her comments as had phoned Missandei (who was back at work and healthy) to cancel her meeting that day and that she was going to work from home on editing the March issue of Valyrian (February's was coming out in two weeks so she needed this one in the back by the end of the week). But she couldn't concentrate as she received a message from her brother telling her to turn the tv on.

"Sensational news coming out of Valyrian magazine today as respected Journalist, Jon Snow, releases a candid and honest report of meeting Editor-in-chief and owned Daenerys Targaryen. It comes just a week after the scandal of former employee Doreah's reports that the multi-millionaire owner is an 'evil piece of work'. The following reports contains flash photography..."

Dany grinned her teeth as she seethed at the TV.

'A Hot Head at best, vindictive at worst; Daenerys Targaryen's attitude to simple questions over the scandal that rocked her magazine is to dodge furiously and lash out as her volatile nature supersedes her ability to talk like a normal adult'  The Journalist said as he wrote a 2000 word essay on his impressions of the Editor-in-chief. It wasn't all bad for the 26 year old however, there were high praise for her love of fashion that says she claims comes from her mother, Rhaella, who is seen with her here at Elton John's New Year's eve bash last month. He also says she has a fine taste in literature, which can be seen by her extensive knowledge on Chaucer..."

Daenerys turned the TV off immediately. She'd been told by Missandei that his blog was the number 1 trend on twitter currently and he was receiving praise for his piece from critics. 'Hot head at best' he'd said of her; he had been very rude of her which she had expected; just not like that.  She wasn't a bad person; and Doreah was not her fault; she had just lashed out at the wrong time and now Valyrian was going to pay for it. There would be boycotts from people buying her magazine.

"Stupid Bastard" She grumbled as she threw all her paperwork on the floor in anger. "I'm not a horrible person, I'm not a Horrible person"

She suddenly found herself trapped; wishing she was allowed out of her home into the open world. She wanted to breath in the cool January air, she feel the breeze as it rolled over her skin, not to feel the papers and books of her work or look at the workings of people's articles on her computer screen. She sighed, it's no use. She just sunk back into her desk chair and began to pick up the papers which she had thrown down.

Throwing herself into her work; it wasn't until her cleaner and cook let themselves in a 17:00pm that she realised she needed to get ready for her dinner guest that would be arriving soon. She closes down her files and tidies the papers on her desk. She nodded to her helping hands and retreats to her beauty closet to get ready for the company that will be joining her. She stares at the dresses and fabrics in front of her; Wang, Versace, Chanel, McQueen, Chloe and many more. She can't help but be drawn to a white number which was a custom made dress her mother made for her many years ago.

"You're the one" She whispered as she began to change; her pale milk like skin revealed from underneath her jumper and trousers she'd been wearing for the day. She took the white dress out and smile. A figure hugging bardot topped dress which had a fashionable cape added. It had a slit up to the thigh in the left side which when paired with silver strappy heels meant she looked a lot taller than she actually was. Getting into the dress and calling her cleaner in to help zip it up at the back she fashioned it with a dragon choker.

She heard the doorbell ring then and after putting her hair into a fashionable ponytail; she walked to the apartment entrance where her five guests were waiting already, her eye catching that of her assistant Missandei who looked like she'd got changed in her car from running the office for a day. A low whistle sounded out from one of them. "Hello all"

"Thank you for having our company once again Daenerys"

"It is my pleasure, Sir Tyrion" She smirks as she pokes at her guests recent knighthood from the Queen of England. "Dinner will be ready soon, please come into the guest lounge where we'll have some win"

Dany often thought of her life three years previous. When she'd spoke of her wish to leave her father's company and start her own fashion magazine he'd thrown her out of their house with £2000 only and two bags of clothes. She only could have the internet on her phone from wifi spots in Cafe's so she started an online blog called 'Valyrian' but laid it all out like a magazine and when people came into the cafe's she'd tell them about the site and got people interested. She soon got ads on her site and within the first year she had a backer willing to invest in a printed version of her site. And that had been Tyrion Lannister, Sir Tyrion.

"It's been a bit of a strange day for you I could imagine" He commented as they entered the Lounge, a large smile present on his face. "Hot-headed at best and Vindictive at worst, what did you do to the poor man?"

"Didn't give him the information he wanted" She commented back, immediately going for the wine that her cook had laid out for them. "A rather inquisitive soul; a love of classic literature. I thought the interview was going well and then the issue of Doreah came up. I panicked and threw him out"

"A shame, one would have thought you'd have learnt to keep a cool head by now but alas you are your father's daughter" Varys spoke to her. He'd been apart of her father's business for 10 years as his right hand man but had recently fallen out with him. So now he runs communications in Daenerys' instead. Another reason her father despises her.

"I am not my father" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"And thank god" He laughed as he too sipped the wine.

"If it had been me; I'd have locked the door and told him he wasn't allowed to leave until he promised to write a fluff piece" Daario, her friend of 2 years spoke. She'd met him while working in the Coffee shops, he'd been an aspiring weightlifter and now worked the nightshift of security while Jorah, who was drinking the wine quicker than he could pour it on the sofa, did the days. Daario had always had a thing for Daenerys and three or four times they'd ended up in bed together but for her it had been nothing more than a fling.

"And what would that have accomplished? Jon Snow is a well respected Journalist he'd have just told the world she tried to coerce him into lying and her reputation would've suffered even more" Tyrion was a very intelligent man, and he nearly always had a solution for when things went pear shaped. "You need to be smarter than him"

"Do you propose something?" Daenerys was intrigued.

"Twitter was flooded with opinions and mislead comments about this article, you need to get on social media. Make a twitter and ann instagram. People need to see you as a person who is human and not a cold hearted bitch you've been portrayed as in the papers. Yes you have a temper on you; but it does not come out often"

Daenerys blinked. She'd never bothered with social media herself. She'd keep an eye on competitors and used it in that sense, but her own account? "I am unsure about this,  Tyrion. If I do this now; people will know it's a direct response to his article!"

"Good; people will realise that you've gone to great lengths to actually go about doing something. They'll become intrigues in you and your magazine and the prints will increase once again. Let's do it now while we're flowing on wine as to not lose our coverage, where's your tablet?"

And so for the next thirty minutes until dinner was served all six of them, Daenerys, Tyrion, Daario, Missandei, Varys and Jorah argued over what to put on her account as handles and display pictures. There was a lot of back and forth but after much disagreement Daenerys decided to name her account 'The Dragon Club'. "The Dragon Club? You mean the horrible name you tried to give this dinner us six have once a week?"

"It's not a horrible name; it's good" Daenerys retorted as she finally signed up to twitter and Instagram. "Now what do you propose I do? I don't take photos, I'm not particularly funny. This was a horrible idea!"

"You are very dry, Daenerys. Tweet the journalist; if he's on there" Daario suggested and for once Tyrion agreed with him. "Be nice obviously, but follow me first"

Daenerys followed her own company and then followed the five guests in the room who were online (Jorah didn't bother). She then searched for Jon's account and saw the last thing he tweeted 'Thank you for the positive feedback on this article, it's good to report honest subject matter'. She mentally found herself getting fired up again and she didn't think she could contain it as she stared at his words on her tablet screen. But taking a deep breath she replied to his tweet. 'No legacy is so rich as honesty'.

It was at this that she was interrupted by her cook to say dinner was served. Her mind was all on talking to her guests about their lives; Missandei had just moved in with her boyfriend Jacob, also known to most as indie singer Greyworm. Tyrion had recently lost his wife Shae and was talking of how her parents had come to Tyrion with some of her stuff they wanted him to have. Varys had received an invite from Dany's brother Rhaegar for Elia's 40th birthday party next week and Jorah's niece had made him wear fairy wings at her 11th birthday party. They were all getting along swimmingly and it wasn't until they moved from the dining room back into the guest lounge that she saw lots of notifications on her phone. She'd have to turn them off later.

Checking to see all the fuss, she saw Jon had replied to her and followed. 'Shakespeare' was all he'd said. But it was still enough to make Daenerys smile.

Perhaps she may be able to sway him round.

[s-asuke]

Naruto FemSlash Week 2017 - Day 1 - Family - SakuKarin

I am a little late, I know, but both the SasuSaku month and this week? Can be a little taxing I apologize!! Enjoy!! I appreciate feedback very much!!

*

“Bye, bye, Sarada-chan!” ChoCho waved to her as they exited the Academy grounds. She was walking quietly under the light of the late sunset – school was over and that meant she could go back to her Mamas, the pinkette already warning her to pick up tomatoes and bananas. The black-haired Uzumaki changed her route to the bustling market of Konohagakure. From the stall she always bought her vegetables and neccessities on – she could see the stone faces of the seven Hokage – Hashirama Senju and his brother Tobirama, Sandaime, Boruto’s grandfather, Gran Tsunade, Uncle Kakashi and Nanadaime, Uzumaki Naruto. She was proud that they shared the same last name and clan – but she was also an Uchiha by blood, and Haruno by her other mother. The small beauty thanked the baa-chan at the stall, returning to her daydreaming.

As she was passing a small bridge to make a turn home, the another figure of her affection showed at the edge, black coat and even blacker eyes and tresses. The Shadow Hokage, Uchiha Sasuke was smiling softly to his favorite student, wistfully so. “Uncle Sasuke!” the rosy blush she always had intensifying as she ran to hug him. He spread his arms open – as if to stop her from entwining in his coat too much – returning the young girl’s affection.

She strutted a bit after breaking the hug, before returning to her original pace as they walked to the Uzumaki residence together. Their house wasn’t big nor small – just enough to hold the love of the three girls inhabiting it. Karin’s uncomfortably loud singing, and Sakura’s laughter full of endearment towards her bubbly wife could be heard from the doorstep, Sarada used to it long ago as Sasuke shook his head, thinking warmly, some things never change.

Sakura opened the door, the chakra she sensed coming off her daughter being comfortably cocooned into Sasuke’s larger, warmer one. The music stopped soon afterwards – Sakura smiling warmly as Karin poked her wife, clad in a comfortable shirt that came mid-thigh and loose sweatpants as soon as she arrived in front of Sasuke, smile full of snark but also unexplainable amount of warmth as she acknowledged Sasuke’s presence, reaching over to her daughter first thing.

“Yo! How was at school?” She immediatelly started the interrogation game as the two moved over to the living room, and Sakura started nosing around Sasuke’s mission – especially the present one.

“Karin, hun, if you’d get us a blankie. Sarada-chan and I have our reading time.” Sakura kissed Karin in passing, the redhead blushing like a tomato. Sasuke, a careful bystander was already used to their romance. “Oi, can you two chill?” He had a sour look on his face, jealous, Sakura mouthed to Karin as the redhead slapped her butt, blushing still, and sternly saying to the nin sitting on the couch with her daughter, “No, we can’t. Sorry, duckbutt.” With that, Sasuke scoffed, and Sarada giggled – having her Uncle’s hair was something she really liked, it was always messy but she tried to keep it as straight as she could.

When Sakura came, bringing Sasuke his favorite tomato salad and Karin making him scoot over so she could get under the blanket with her wife and daughter Sasuke felt like a younger brother again – Karin and Sakura displayed so much healthier relationship than the stoic one of Mikoto and Fugaku. Cuddling up under the blanket, Karin held her daughter close to her, as Sakura’s forehead was fluttered occassionally with a small peck, the pinkette’s voice full of love and affection as she began to read a story about the civillian who knew nothing about chakra, yet found a shinobi tool of great power and significance, once had belonged to the darkest shinobi of all of them. One Ring to rule them all, and as Sakura reached the end of chapter one, Karin, sensible as ever noticed Sasuke’s wistfulness, and outstretched the corner of the blanket to him. He glared powerfully, but she frowned the ‘not for me for Sakura and Sarada’ frown, one he just had to give in (certainly not because of the familial comfort the blanket and the motherly presence of the two women and the girl gave to him. He stared at the pictures in front of him – every single one gave him a strange sense of peace. Naruto and Sarada chasing Himawari and Boruto. Temari and Gaara picking up Sarada, whose hands were outstretched behind, facing away from the photo, probably to Karin. Two women on their wedding day. Sakura smiling, blissful expression caught forever as her Byakugou reflects the sun rays. His female best friend realized that they had nothing romantic the day she was kissed by the redhead, both body and soul. He impregnated Sakura solely because they had mutual good from it – Sasuke didn’t want his bloodline to cease to exist, and Sakura wanted to have a child to raise with Karin. Having a stranger’s seed grow inside her was albeit repulsive to Sakura, so Sasuke done that for her.

As Sarada blurted laughter from funny sentences or Karin’s occasional tickles Sasuke felt truly at peace – he will have to report to Dobe soon – and the two women he watched, Karin stroking Sakura’s cheek as she read and radiating pure love and affection, not even similar in any point to the obsession she showed while she was still in Taka.

Sarada giggled at all the attention she got from her mothers, Sakura held the book with one hand, while Karin listened intently to the words so she could flip the page. Each arm of the fiery haired women was busy with either clinging to each other, or their small baby girl, who wiggled towards the raven-haired man, in a mock attempt to get away from Mamas.

“Aaagh! I would spew Katon so much better than Smaug the dragon!” Karin laughed after Sarada, who passed behind Sasuke rather quick, clinging at his west. Karin mock formed some hand seals, and Sasuke couldn’t help his salty demeanor get the best of him in inaccuracy. “First – you don’t spit Katon, and seco-” but he is ignored by Karin chasing Sarada around the couch, the girl squealing and pulling Sasuke forward. “Sasuke! Protect me! Mama! Stop Mama from burning us!” Sarada was uncharacteristically strong for her age, so Sasuke just thought of Sakura, as he endured the endearing – but he said needless out loud, he swears – antics of his teammates and niece. Sakura actually formed a chakra string, forming it into an elastic extension of her finger, making the bananas from the fruit bowl float up, towards the girl who was enduring Karin’s extra-powerful hug attack combo. Sarada jumped up and grabbed two bananas, tapping her goofier mother’s shoulder with it, with a breathless murmur of – fruit time.

Sasuke felt like he was the one receiving all that love and affection, granted how much of it there actually was. As Karin fed Sakura half of the fruit – he didn’t feel like he was intruding in an intimate moment, because both women never felt like he was so neither did he feel the need to.

“Karin, Sakura. I should take my leave. I need to report to Naruto, and I have some things to wrap up. I will try to see you once more before I leave.”

“Do you really have to leave, Uncle Sasuke?” Sarada looked at him, eyes wide and expectant, and he swears there is no doujutsu more powerful than Sarada’s. “I have a few jobs to do. But I-”

“You can sleep over, Sasuke-kun. I can leave you dinner in the fridge, and you don’t have to go through the trouble of renting a room.” Sakura interjects, making a pretty valid point.

“Hn,” Sarada’s periodical tugs at his armless sleeve remind him to build up a snarky remark and fight back at least a little, before showing up at their house tonight, either way he won’t live it down from the dinamic duo. “Nonsense. And I don’t want to interrupt your… nightly activities.” Sakura snorts, and Karin weakly bumps his arm, “Ay, what I do with my wife at night is none of your business! She is beautiful and young and-”

“Karin!” Sakura rose up, face lit up by Karin’s blanant confession, “Shannaro!” her catchphrase passes through the pouting lips as she gestures towards Sarada with small jerks of her head.

“I mean – just get out Sasuke, we don’t need your troublesomeness!” the more awkward of the two remarks while fixing her glasses. “Mama, what did Uncle do? And can he stay? He can teach me Katon when he comes back from work!” Sarada asks softly, more softer and Sasuke would be a puddle.

“It’s all his decision baby. You can only ask, but Uncle Sasuke has to decide.” Sakura adds gently. Sasuke grabs his coat, winding away from the house with simple goodbyes.

Sarada knows – he left some of his things. Of course he’ll come back later.

Looking at Mama No.1, and Mama No.2, pure happiness arises in her chest as she runs in Sakura’s arms, asking her if she would braid her hair after she bathes so it would be all curly tomorrow. Karin’s deft fingers pass through her black locks, asking her if she wants something to snack on. As the calming cocoon of her mothers envelopes her – she only so much knows that this is true peace.

[secret-captain-swan-blog]

Castle on the Hill

English Literature PhD student Emma Swan just needs money to pay for her last semester of grad school tuition. Killian Jones has always dreamed of opening a bookshop but has never been able to afford it. So when the small principality of Misthaven is looking for their lost princess, the pair decide that this might just be the perfect money making scheme.

A Multi-chapter Modern Day + Lost Princess (think Rapunzel/Anastasia-esque) + Book Lovers in a Coffee Shop AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 26189/ ?

Prologue (Part 1 + 2) // Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3

Read on: Ao3

A million thanks to my cheerleader/coach/cinnamon roll @katie-dub for being my beta and telling me cute stories about 2-year-olds!

Unfortunately, the incident with Killian and the creepy guy forces her to avoid Mamie’s. She doesn’t know if she’ll run into him there and she is not ready to talk about what happened in that scarier-than-hell pawn shop, or whatever it was. Honestly, she doesn’t know if she’ll ever be able to.

Instead, she makes do with coffee made in the French press she finds in the apartment’s cupboard. It’s not great and certainly not as wonderful as Mamie’s, but well she’ll take what she can get.

She throws herself instead into university life to give herself proper distraction. As part of her fellowship with Misthaven University, she’s responsible for teaching a course to undergraduates. She finds out this week that she’s assigned to teach an Intro to American Lit class. She hasn’t really dealt extensively with American literature class, it’s certainly not her specialty. She imagines that they gave it to her just because she is American. Emma spends an afternoon sifting through books and trying to pick some novels selections for the semester. It’s hard to decide on a proper survey, weighing the options of a more traditional canon American reading list against a more diverse one.

The next day, she crafts the syllabus. It’s several hours in the library with a thermos of coffee and a bag of croissants and stroopwafel (dang, at least Misthaven has one thing right- the perfect intersection of food). The library in Misthaven is gorgeous. While most of the university buildings are more modern architecture, the library is older. Its rich wood and elegant windows makes her feel like she’s in a fairy tale. It’s the closest she’ll get, so she might as well enjoy it. She outlines the entire course, including details on papers and reading assignments. She realizes that classes in Europe might actually be different than they are in America, but she doesn’t really know how else to structure a class, so she goes for it.

On Friday morning, she finds herself in Professor Hood’s office for her advising meeting. He’s younger than she imagined, probably late thirties or early forties. His office is sunny and decorated with illustrations of various English folk stories and legends.

“How have you been settling in?” He asks her, as she slides down into a seat and he passes her a cup of tea.

He speaks with a crisp English accent, no trace of a Misthaven accent. She assumes he must be an implant like herself.

“I’m doing well,” she tells him.

“You’ve secured lodgings and all that?” He asks.

“Yeah, I’ve done an apartment swap,” she informs him.

“That’s great. Sometimes foreign students can have trouble with that kind of thing,” he tells her.

“No problems here.”

“And the culture shock isn’t too much?” He asks, “I know it was hard for me when I got here.”

Culture shock? She thinks. More like “worry for my life” shock . But she can’t tell this random professor about her brief dalliance with scamming the Queen. Or the creepy man in the pawn shop who might’ve tried to kill her. Or the stupidly attractive Misthaven guy who made her heart a little swoony.

Instead, she smiles sweetly and says, “It’s not terrible. I’ve been dreaming of visiting Misthaven for so long, so I think it’s mostly just excitement for now. I’m sure the culture shock will kick in soon enough.”

“Good to hear. If you ever need suggestions for places to go, let me know. I’ve been in Misthaven for a while, so I’ve found the expat troves.”

“How did you find yourself here?” She asks.

Emma is becoming increasingly curious about this guy. There aren’t a ton of expats in Misthaven, since the borders have only been open a few years. He’s not a visiting professor either. She wonders how this British man ended up with a secure place on the Misthaven staff.

“Love,” he says, blushing, “I was working on my undergrad at the University of Nottingham and I fell for a visiting student from Misthaven. I followed her here. Just after that, the Crown fell and we were trapped here. We made the best of it and got married. We needed something to be happy about.”

Emma likes stories, even personal ones. Suddenly she wants to know all of Professor Hood’s story. Besides, part of her research involves listening to stories of resistance and accounts from people who lived through the Dark Times. This seems to be a place to start.

“That’s so sweet,” Emma prods, gently, “What happened after that?”

He smiles, thinking of his wife then sighs, as he continues to spin his story. “It was a dark time for academia. There was a witch hunt here for people who had royal sympathies or who were opposed to Gold’s dictatorship. A lot of professors lost their jobs, most imprisoned, some worse.”

Emma can’t imagine living under such a harsh regime. Academia has always been her safe escape. This story is turning from sweet to scary in a matter of words.

“That’s horrible. Were you okay?” Emma asks.

He grimaces, painful memories stretched out across his face.

“Sorry,” Emma says quickly, “This is really personal. You don’t have to tell me these things if you are uncomfortable.”

He shakes his head, “It’s okay. I wanted to work with you for a reason, Emma. When I saw your proposal, I jumped at the chance to have our story told, the stories of many like us told. The work you are doing is rare and important.”

Emma nods and carefully slips her notebook out to start jotting down notes. Professor Hood takes a sip of his tea and then continues.

“Eventually my name went onto a black list and I was certain that I was bound for prison. My wife and I decided it was best for me to go into hiding. I spent three years living in a secret panel in my basement. It was maddening, but my wife, my Marian, she took exceptional care of me and never let me grow lonely.”

“That’s great of her,” Emma says. She wonders if she’ll get to meet this woman. From this story it sounds like they are a perfect match.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice melancholic, “we were both growing impatient. Things were getting worse and worse. Food was being rationed and we shared just her ration, so we were both constantly hungry. Oil was rationed as well and everything was always cold. I was worried I was going to spend my whole damn life freezing in that basement and Marian blamed herself for moving us here. So, we got involved in the resistance movement. She was in deeper than I was, since she could leave the house. She eventually ended up being part of the team that planned the final battle for the castle, the movement that ended the Dark Times in Misthaven.” He gulps, “but she met her end there.”

Emma’s mouth opens in shock. She’s read countless things about Misthaven resistance movements, but it’s different to hear it from someone who lived through it.

“Thanks for telling me that,” she says, not knowing if she should reach out in comfort, but she hardly knows him. Instead, she busies her hands taking notes. “I’m really sorry about your wife. That’s part of why I’ve come here, though. I want to understand resistance better from people who lived through it. I want to be able to argue how and why Blanche Neige used her books to encourage revolution.”

“Well, I can certainly help you find people to interview,” He says, “Those of us who remain from the resistance are still very close. We’d be happy to help you find people for your project.”

“Thanks so much,” she says, finishing her notes.

“What else do you need help with?” he asks.

“Well, I’m hoping to use the Misthaven U Folk and Fairytale collection to look at the stories she based her novels on,” Emma adds.

“That’s great idea. We have some rare collections that I can grant you access to.”

“Amazing,” Emma breathes, excited at the very notion of pouring over the old tomes.

“If you need help with anything else, let me know,” Professor Hood finishes.

“I will,” she promises, stacking up her notebooks as she feels the short meeting approaching it’s end.

“And will you send me your thesis so far?” He asks, “I don’t think I’ve actually been sent it yet- I’d love to give you feedback if you are up for it?”

“That’s great,” Emma says, earnestly, “All I want is for this thing to be the best it can be.”

“I look forward to reading it. Do you have plans for tonight?” he asks.

Emma’s feels her forehead wrinkle. Her new advisor is hitting on her? That’s definitely unprofessional, not mention that he’s far too old. And he just told her the story of his dead wife.

“Sorry,” he amends, seeing where her thoughts had turned, “Not like that. It’s just that they give out free opera house tickets to foreign students every Friday. They do really great performances there, operas and ballets, if you like that kind of thing. Even if you don’t, it’s a nice excuse for an evening out and the building is gorgeous.”

“Oh thanks for the tip,” Emma says. “I’ll think about it.”

She bids her goodbyes and gathers her stuff.

The Opera isn’t a bad idea. She’s still spooked from the events earlier this week and she’d rather not spend the night alone in her apartment. Plus, it might be a way to meet some other foreign students, since she is yet to make friends. Other than Killian, if you counted the 12 hours they were wary friends.

She stops by the foreign student office on her way to the tram and picks up a ticket for the performance that night. It’s an opera by Samuel Barber. She doesn’t know much about opera, so she hopes it’s alright.

When she gets off the tram in her neighborhood, she finds herself ducking into little clothing stores to window shop. This area has a lot of thrift shops and independent boutiques.

Emma won’t deny that she misses her old jean jacket. She’s upset that it was a casualty of that horrible night. There was something comforting about the worn jacket - it was a talisman of sorts, protecting her from harm. She weaves through racks at the thrift shop looking for a replacement. She fingers tan suede jackets, black corduroy ones, and a bright pink windbreaker.

A red jacket catches her eye and she slips it on. It feels right. After her last jacket was ripped from her shoulders, this one feels steady, like armor. It’s the kind of jacket that is perfect for a girl who has always had to do everything for herself.

She buys the thing, spending more than she had planned to. But hey, she got a free ticket to the opera. She can splurge on something .

It’s just past noon when she gets back to her apartment and she’s exhausted. Honestly, this week has been so fricken much. She needs to escape and not think about her grant applications or the creepy man in the pawn shop. She hasn’t been sleeping well, images of that night dancing before her eyes and make it hard for her to calm down. All Emma wants to do is relax. She tosses her opera ticket and new jacket onto the counter and heads over to her bookshelf.

Today she needs an old favorite, she picks up a Blanche Neige book. This is one of her favorites, Towering Hope , a twist on Rapunzel. It’s much more empowering than the traditional fairy tale. In this version, the savior of Misthaven is trapped in a castle. There is a hero, a dashing rapscallion of a thief, who comes to save her from the tower - but only so that she can use her powers to save the whole country and lead them all to freedom. Emma’s always liked this narrative because while the damsel gets rescued from the tower, she’s also the hero of the story. That’s what she loves about Blanche Neige, the way that her stories are always empowering, always about resisting, and yet still have the magic and charm of fairy tales.

The story is more than familiar, it’s like an old favorite song. She’s read it countless times. She’s analyzed it and wrote essays on it. Somewhere along the familiar pages and the softness of being curled up on the sunny sofa, Emma falls asleep.

When she awakes, the light is low and she finally feels rested for the first time that week. She can’t remember her dream, but she knows that there were traces of Towering Hope in it, but that the thief had Killian’s eyes. Stupid, attractive Killian. She wishes she could get him out of her head so she could move on from that night, that idiotic idea. But she can’t.

She pushes him out of her mind, for now at least. She has bigger things to do, like get ready for this opera.

Emma has never really owned the sort of things that one wears to an opera, but after rummaging in her closet for a bit, she picks out a plain black dress and a statement necklace. With a pair of heels and some red lipstick, she figures she can almost pull it off.

She quickly makes a mug of coffee with the French press, toasts a few slices of bread, and then she’s out the door. It’s a tram ride into town, just across the river to Old Town. The opera house sits along the water. It’s ornate, as an opera house should be, white with gold accents and a domed roof.

Outside, she finds a person carrying a sign that reads “Misthaven U Foreign Students” and she joins the crowd. There is a cluster of undergrad students speaking very quickly to each other in Korean, two girls chattering in what might be Norwegian, and a few more chattering in French. Emma was expecting to use this outing as an opportunity to make new friends, but she quickly realizes this might not be the case.

The group moves into the opera house and Emma shuffles along beside them. She squares her shoulders as she walks in. She doesn’t need friends. She’s always gotten through life on her own grit and perseverance. She’s going to enjoy the night even if she is by herself.

The opera house is lovely and certainly distracts her from her problems. There are gold and marble embellishments everywhere, fresh flowers, and velvet draping. Emma wants to look at all of it all at once, but the group is guided along to where their seats are.

Emma glances through her program as the curtain drops and then all at once she’s absorbed in the show.

And it’s weird. It’s really weird. An older woman is waiting for her lover, Anatole, to return to her - but his son does instead. And somehow she falls in love with him? But he impregnates her niece. Yeah, it’s super weird.

At the interval, Emma downs a glass of red wine because she knows that’s the only way she’ll make it through the rest. Plus, the broody plot lends itself to red wine.

By the end of the opera, three and half hours that feel like the longest of her life, the wine has made its way through her system. All she can think is that she has to pee. Like right now.

While the applause starts, she bolts out of her seat and dashes to the closest bathroom before the bows begin. As much as she should feel bad for not adding the applause, she really doesn’t because the opera was so strange.

As she exits the toilets, she washes her hands and pauses to fix her hair.

“So, what did you think?” asks a voice and Emma glances up to see the woman next to her.

Standing beside her at the mirror is a woman with short cropped hair and a nice pantsuit. Her face is lightly lined. She’s probably in her late forties, maybe early fifties. She has an elegant way of carrying herself that Emma envies. She’s always had atrocious posture.

Emma tries for something intellectual to say. This lady seems like the serious opera type.

“Well, it was certainly literary,” Emma manages, after all, she is really good at analyzing things. “The plot was wholly modernist, I think. Though I think anything with that many Oedipal allusions isn’t necessarily my cup of tea.”

“It’s okay, I won’t be offended if you say it sucked,” the woman says.

She has a clear, posh Misthaven accent to her English - with a hint of something that Emma can’t quite place. She’s the kind of woman you’d never expect to say the word “sucked.”

“Okay,” Emma laughs, “It did kinda suck.”

“Honestly, I think most operas in English tend to,” she explains, “Maybe go to an Italian, or even a French one, next time around.”

“I’ll have to remember that,” Emma says.

“Is it your first time at the opera?” asks the lady.

Emma nods, a little shyly. She’s an intellectual. She doesn’t like to admit not knowing things.

“Well, I hope it doesn’t deter you from coming back,” the lady says, “There are usually very nice shows on here. There is a very promising ballet planned for next Friday, if that interests you. It should be a bit better than this.”

Emma laughs, “yeah, maybe I’ll come back. I’m here for the next few months.”

“Here, I’ll make it easy for you,” the lady says, “I can arrange some free tickets for you.”

Geesh , Emma thinks, they must be desperate in this town to get people into the opera house if they are always giving out free tickets.

“That’ll be great,” Emma says, sounding more enthusiastic than she actually is. She’d feel bad disappointing this opera aficionado who seems so zealous about getting Emma interested in this place.

“I’ll leave two tickets next Friday at the door under your name,” she tells her, “What is it?”

“Emma, Emma Swan.”

The woman’s eyes widen and she shivers. Emma can feel her looking her up and down, before she meets her eyes, staring intensely.

“Sorry, is something wrong?” Emma asks.

The woman startles, “what? No, sorry. I’ll arrange the tickets for you, Emma.”

“Uh, thanks,” Emma replies feeling a little awkward.

The woman exits the bathroom with a final, closed mouthed smile. Emma turns back to the mirror and gazes at her reflection. What had the woman been looking for? What had she seen?

Killian has often dreamt of the night he fled the castle. The screams of the queen echoing through the castle. The feeling of air tearing through his lungs as he runs as fast as his short legs will take him to his gran’s cottage. The empty, hollow feeling as he watches Liam and a small bob of blonde hair disappear from sight. Killian knows that dream well.

So, when a new one begins, it startles him.

The night he returns from the pawn shop, his bones rattled, his hand still shaking from the altercation with stranger, the new dream begins.

He climbs in bed, thinking of Emma. For a moment, he had been sure that the man was going to kill her. The knife raised above her, the fierce look in her eyes replaced by terror - he thought that he’d led the girl to her demise. He hopes that creating a diversion was enough of an apology to her for the mess he dragged her into. He knows she probably won’t ever forgive him for the trouble he caused her, but he’ll miss the lass. He’s known her for a day and he’s already charmed by her quick mind and golden hair.

Her golden hair somehow fades into another’s.

He dreams that night of being a child in the palace. He dreams of the tiny apartment that he and Liam had in the basement. They shared a bed, Killian just small enough to fit under this brother’s shoulder.

He dreams of the royal library, where he discovered new books and would spend hours stretched out on the floor flicking through pages - gazing at pictures and attempting to read the words beside them.

He dreams of trays of rich food that his brother would bring him in the evenings. He’d explain they came from the king’s table, leftovers from the feast.

He dreams of a night when he snuck up the stairs to watch a ball. He remembers all the couples waltzing to the most beautiful music. He thinks of the elegant clothes, the smells of sweets, and the ornate decorations. Even for a young boy, he was very impressed.

He dreams of the family. The father with his blond hair and ponytail. The mother with her round face and long, dark hair. And the daughter, the princess - Emma.

Emma with her wispy gold locks, her dimpled chin, her doey green eyes. Emma with her infectious giggle and toothy smile. He remembers playing with her. She was smaller, first a baby that he’d sing songs to. Then she was toddling and cooing, chasing after him down palace corridors. She was three or four when she fled with Liam. He remembers that she was finally the age where they could play proper games together. He wonders if they would have been real friends when they grew older.

She’s everywhere in his dreams. He’s chasing her down hallways. She’s always one step out of reach.

He awakes with the image a different blond haired girl in his mind. One with longer legs, lovely curves, and a determined poise. Emma .

He tries to get her out of his mind. He throws himself into work at the bar, engaging with customers, making them laugh. He gets Ruby to distract him when he can, having her play dice with him when the bar is having low periods.

The rest of the time he has to himself he reads. He decides on a whim to reread the Blanche Neige series. They’ve been his favorite always, since he discovered them in the library as a teenager. He craves their easy comfort now. He loves the way that the words coax him, familiar like an old favorite song. Even now, in the sad nostalgia and strange dreams left in Emma’s wake, the books lull him and help him to forget his worries.

He manages to stay distracted through the weekend, the bar is busy enough then. It isn’t until the stillness of his Tuesday afternoon that he find himself at Mamie’s with a Blanche Neige book in hand. All he wants to do was to drink an americano and try to lose the dismally restless feeling he’s acquired since that night in the pawn shop.

So, his heart stops a little when he looks up and sees her. Emma.

Her hair is up in a high bun, square rim glasses balanced on her nose. She’s dressed in a black thingy, which Killian thinks might be called a romper, only because Ruby’s called it that before. She has a red leather jacket over it, the overall look seems to match her fierceness. Her laptop is in front of her, a stack of books to her side.

He doesn’t know what to do for a moment. Does he go talk to her? He wants to. He really wants to. He hasn’t stopped thinking about her, try as he may, and here she is right in front of him. He wants to apologize. He wants to make things right with her.

But then again, things left off so horribly between them. He wonders if it’s best to duck out the backdoor and pretend that he didn’t see her. That way he doesn’t have to confront how awkward their last moments together were.

Emma looks up and their eyes meet. She glances away and for a moment he thinks that she’s made the decision for him. She is going to ignore him. Then, she swallows and meets his eyes again. A tiny smile graces her lips, an invitation.

Killian leaves his coffee and book behind to go to her table.

A gentle blush rises in her cheeks and she tucks a strand of hair into her bun.

“Emma, look, I just wanted to say how sorry I am for how everything turned out,” He begins, looking down at his feet, scratching a hand behind his ear, “I never, ever meant to put you in danger.”

“Um, yeah, I’m not going to lie to you, last Tuesday was one of the scariest experiences of my life,” she babbles awkwardly, adorably. “And like, that’s really saying a lot considering my childhood.”

His eyes widen a bit as he takes in her accidental overshare. Just what has this poor girl gone through? He wants to know her secrets, her stories. But they are strangers, former business partners - it’s never going to happen.

“Anyway,” she continues, clearly not wanting to dwell on her admission. “It seemed like you were trying to help. I mean I know that you said the guy was creepy, but I think we were both blindsided by just how weird that got.”

Killian nods furiously. “You can say that again.”

“You got out okay?” she asks, lightly.

He nods again. “Yeah I was just behind you. I haven’t the seen the fiend since.”

“That’s good,” Emma says, “I honestly don’t know what I’d do.”

Killian sniffles and looks down again, thinking it’s probably best to start retreating back to his table and back to his americano. Things are always going to be weird between him and Emma. They can’t just go from the horrible night they experienced and expect to become anything like friends afterwards.

Then he sees the book on top of her stack, Towering Hope by Blanche Neige.

“You read Blanche Neige?” he blurts out,flushed with surprise. Those books are everything to him. They’re the reason he was able to rebuild his life after being a young offender. They’re the reason he was able to find hope.

And there is this girl who has already woven a little tendril around his heart sitting in front of him, reading the very same book.

“Um, actually,” she says, the blush returning to her cheeks. “I’m writing my PhD dissertation on Blanche Neige. I’m basing my career on her.”

“So, you’re something of a Blanche Neige expert?” he asks.

She snorts a laugh. “Not exactly. Not yet, at least. I’ve got to finish the dissertation. But yeah, no one’s written on her before. So maybe, one day.”

“Emma Swan, Blanche Neige expert,” he says, sliding into the seat opposite of her. “Wow, that’s sexy.”

She lets out a full laugh this time, tugging on her bun again.

“I take it you’re a fan?” She asks, curiosity lacing her voice.

“Right, well, you know that horrible childhood thing you talked about before?”

She purses her lips together, her forehead wrinkling again.

“Well, yes, I had one of those too. Quite miserable.” He rattles on, not ready to give details. “But Miss Blanche here, her books were the things that helped me through it.”

She nods, her voice soft, the moment suddenly intimate for the coffee shop setting. “I understand that. The way books can save you from the bad stuff.”

Killian nods and smiles, because Emma gets it. She’s probably the first person he’s ever met who gets it.

“Books are like a little bit of hope,” She adds.

“They are exactly that, Swan.” He nods.

“So what is your favorite?”

“Of Blanche Neige?” He muses, “Probably Never in this Land. ”

He thinks of the novel, a twist on Peter Pan where a modern Captain Hook has a change of heart, abandoning his life of crime and becoming a hero. He ends up sheltering three “darling” children in his house to keep them safe from the dictator.  Like all Blanche Neige, it’s a story about freedom, bravery, and resistance.

“Interesting choice,” she says, smiling.

He wonders if she sees through his choice. He wonders if she sees his previous life of crime. He wonders if she sees a villain in him.

But instead, it seems her thoughts are purely intellectual.

“It’s curiously the only Blanche Neige book that’s not based directly on a fairy tale. Well, that and The Yellow Bug. I can’t find the source material for that one, no matter how hard I look.”

“The Yellow Bug?” Killian muses.

He tries to place the tale. He recalls it a little, the story of an outsider who comes to town in a yellow VMW. She’s looking for her family, but never ends up finding them. Instead, she discovers she can talk to animals and uses the ability to help foil the uprising. In the story, the dictator keeps his soul in an egg which was taken from one of the animals and the heroine eventually finds a way to destroy the soul inside. In typical Blanche Neige fashion, she delivers the town from the dictator.

“You can see traces of the Goose Girl in it,” Emma explains, “In the plot line with the talking animals. And other traces of the Firebird in it, with the soul in the egg. But there are other bits that I can’t place. Blanche Neige usually draws from one source fable, so it doesn’t make sense that she’d mash up a few, or that she’d deviate from using a fairy tale.”

Killian opens his mouth in wonder at Emma. She really is the Blanche Neige expert. Listening to her talk in such detail about his favorite book with so much enthusiasm endears her further to him.

Only he notices one thing she doesn’t.

“I know the story,” Killian blurts.

“What?” Emma asks, surprise in her eyes.

“The source story,” he says, “I remember being told it as a child. It was called The Yellow Carriage. A stranger comes to town in a yellow carriage.”

“What do you mean?” Emma says, “I’ve done extensive research. I’ve looked through countless fairy tale databases.”

“I promise you,” He says emphatically, “I remember it from childhood. The Yellow Carriage.”

Emma gapes at him.

“Well, do you know where to find it?”

“I haven’t heard it since I was a child,” He admits, “I wouldn’t know the anthology it came from.”

Emma frowns. He doesn’t like the disappointment and unhappiness on her face.

“But listen, I’ll try my best to think back and see if I remember it. If I think of it, I’ll tell you.”

The frown abates from her face, “Thanks. It’s just that there is a whole chapter of my dissertation about the irregularities of The Yellow Bug and if there is a source for it - well, it changes things. I wouldn’t want to submit it with an error in it.”

“Listen, I’ve only listened to you talk about Blanche Neige for five minutes now, but I’ve never heard anyone as passionate and informed as you. Anyone reading your thesis or whatever will be able to tell,” He flatters.

She rolls her eyes. “That’s not really how academia works. People don’t care about enthusiasm, just precise analysis and fresh ideas.”

“That’s too bad,” he says, “Or else all your work would be done.”

A blush ghosts her cheeks again, before she admits, “well, that would save me a lot of trouble. The reason I’m so desperate for money is because I need to pay for another semester of grad school.”

“That’s why you agreed to my proposal?” He clarifies.

His heart melts a little for her. Emma, so sweet and studious that her ambition is not for a vacation or a large house or money to spend on clothes and jewels, but to learn, to read literature, to study Blanche Neige.

“I just really want to finish my PhD.” She nods. “And the money would have helped to pay back my student loans from undergrad as well.”

Killian feels a flair of anger at the expense of university education in America. In Misthaven, university fees are very minimal and heavily subsidized by the government. He wishes that Emma didn’t have to worry about fees and that she could enjoy her time here instead of focusing on finding funds.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” Killian says, sadly.

Emma gives a rueful smile. “It’s fine. I’m not sure anyone would have believed that I’m lost princess anyway. It was probably a stupid plan.”

“I would believe it,” Killian says, softly.

Her blonde hair, bright green eyes, and dimples - he would believe her to be the lost princess any day.

“Okay, Romeo.” Emma says with another eye roll. “Anyway, a student loan is better than a jail sentence. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I’m still sorry,” he says, “Let me make it up to you.”

She looks up and meets his eyes. Her fierce look falters for a minute and he sees something vulnerable in her gaze. There is loneliness there, hurt, and rejection.

There is a certain yearning there too.

Then she smiles good naturedly, “Well, I don’t really have any friends in Misthaven yet. So, you could buy me another cappuccino and we could talk about Blanche Neige for a little longer.”

Killian lets himself grin back at her. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot Emma.”

tagging some fans (people who i looked through their tags and found out they really liked it) // let me know if anyone wants to be added or subtracted:

@sambethe @kmomof4 @pocket-anon @hooked-mom @the-corsair-and-her-quill @kiwistreetswan@lenfazreads @princesseslikepirates @timeless-love-story

[your-modern-shakespeare]

A Little Too Real (1)

Summary: RealityTV!AU- You are a wardrobe supervisor for a popular TV network. The show is planning a reality TV show like the bachelor and Bucky is the newest contestant. But as the competition starts he realizes that he doesn’t like any of the girls…on the show anyway.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (eventual)

Word Count: 3638 (the first 1500 or so words are the Teaser)

A/N: Guys I am so excited for this series! I am so happy for all of the feedback and I hope you enjoy this first installment. I am publishing it a little early because I will be at school tomorrow from 10:00am-8:30pm, which will kill me, but I love you guys and enjoy! (Also this is an AU so Captain America is just a movie)  

Warnings: Google translations, talk of drinking, fluff, angst

Tags: @fangirl1802, @seargantbcky, @lust-for-pan, @38leticia, @barnes-and-noble-girl, @karipaleta, @capandbuck, @camillechan

PRE-SHOW

READER’S POV

When I interviewed for the job as Wardrobe Supervisor for the Network I was expecting to work with a lot of crazy people. But never did I think that I would, in a way, join them.

The network had just gotten out of a meeting for a newly concepted reality television show. It had easily been approved by all of the appropriate parties and before long we were at auditions for our leading man.

So far we had had two guys come in and all of them were your typical frat boy. Lived off of daddy’s money, was well built, had no real trouble with the ladies, and most likely wanted to do the show for attention. But the next man to come in was different. He had long black hair, was still well built, maybe more so than the last, had piercing blue eyes, and had a smile that could make a heart melt.

“Hello, my name is James Barnes.”

“James, why don’t you have a seat, tell us a little about yourself.”

“Thank you.” He sat down in the chair pulling it closer to the table and more centered than it had been before. “I was born and raised in Brooklyn. I have a degree in Mechanical Engineering from MIT and I speak both Russian and Romanian—”

“Ты говоришь по-русски?” (You speak Russian?) I asked. I wanted to make sure that he wasn’t trying to pull one over on us. He smiled and if I didn’t want to smile too…

“Обещаю. Если вы действительно хотите , чтобы проверить меня , мы можем пойти на кофе.” (Promise. If you really want to test me, we can go for coffee.)

“я доверяю тебе.” (I trust you.)

“Stii sa vorbesti romaneste?” (Do you speak Romanian?)

“I don’t speak Romanian, just Russian.” I replied.

“But you understood me.”

“Yes.”

“Y/N is our Wardrobe Supervisor.” The director butted in.

“Приятно познакомиться.” (Nice to meet you)

“и тебе того же.” (Same to you.)

“What else is there to know about you?” The producer asked.

“Well after I graduated from college I moved to Russia for three years where I worked for Roscosmos and switched between working in the Baikonur Cosmodrome and the RKA Mission Control Center—”

“You worked for Roscosmos?” I asked, completely stunned by everything he was saying.

“Yes.”

“What is that?” Someone asked.

“It’s the Russian equivalent to NASA.” I replied.

“I’m assuming that you like them?” Still smiling at me.

“Maybe just...a lot. I mean, my dad still tells me about watching Yuri Gagarin’s launch in 1961.”

“You know, I met his wife.”

“You did not.”

“I did.” I wanted to ask so many questions but I had to restrain myself because this was an interview and I’m sure that they all had questions for him. We sat in silence for a minute before they continued.

“So why do you want to do the show?”

“Well I was told by a good friend of mine that I am getting old and shouldn’t be lonely anymore. I only agree with him on half of that statement and I don’t really mind being lonely.” We all laughed at him but he continued. “I’m kidding. I’m just tired of the whole dating scene. I have tried for years to find a woman who understands me and genuinely likes me. Apparently I’m pretty good at picking the ones that like to cheat or are just after me for my money. I think that being in an environment where we are kind of stuck together will either bring out the worst or the best in people. And then that’s how you weed them out.”

“And what are you hoping to get out of the show? Like what would you like the end result to be?”

“Well, I know that when we spoke, you had pitched the idea of marriage and I am not opposed to it but I think that something as serious as marriage is circumstantial as well. Like if I don’t like any of them, I’m not going to propose, just like if I like one of them but not enough to marry I would probably just ask her to go out with me. I am pretty level headed about relationships so I take them very seriously.”

They continued to ask him questions for a long time. Every so often he would smile over to me or say something to me in Russian that would make me laugh. But like the other two he was gone and the last two guys of the day came and went. Everyone’s reactions to the last two were seemingly dull, which made me think that we all simultaneously agreed on James.

The thing about Reality TV was that it moved a lot quicker than a scripted show. So in no time we were back at the studio going over multiple applications for the women who were supposed to be competing in the show. When James had been cast the producers and director had gone to work to find out every little detail about this guy. And when they sat everyone down to find the women, the approval went through them. And hours upon HOURS later we had 25 women.

We had extensively gone through numerous applications and based on the interview and the questionnaire that James had taken we found suitable matches. To be quite honest I wanted to throw myself into the running but instantly pushed those thoughts away as I thought about my job and why I was here. He was just another pretty face.

A few days later, I was in the wardrobe room prepping my area for the influx of chores that I knew would start. I had my earphones in and couldn't hear a certain reality star coming into the room. He tapped on my shoulder, basically causing me to jump out of my skin.

“Oh my God.” I said and ripped an earphone out of my ear.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“James, uh, what can I do for you?” He reached down and helped me stand up. “Thank you.”

“No problem. I just wanted to stop by and say hello again.”

“Hello...again.” He just smiled and looked down at the ground. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“So you just came to say hello?”

“I’ve just been exploring and looking around.”

“Good, get to know everyone.”

“Exactly.”

“I mean you have to deal with us for the next eleven weeks or so.”

“Yeah I guess I do.”

“Are you excited?”

“For?”

“The show? I mean let me tell you we read through a lot of applications and I think you’re going to find someone.”

“Well I’m glad to hear it, but if I’m being honest I don’t think I’ll get engaged.”

“Really?”

“I’m a very serious person, very practical. I don’t really do spur of the moment type things. If I ever get engaged it will be when I know for sure that who I’m with is the one I’m going to spend the rest of my life with. Which may make dating hard, but if they don’t like me like that, they aren't the one, you know?”

“I do know.”

“You sound like you would know from experience.”

“Yeah, several bad relationships will do that.”

“Ah, I know what that’s like.”

“Yeah.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“How do you know Russian?”

“Russian is my first language.”

“Really?”

“I was born in Moscow.”

“That’s awesome.”

“I moved here when I was younger to live with my grandparents, so that I could go to school here.” I didn’t want to tell him too much.

“Yeah the only reason I know Russian is because I always dreamed of going into space and when I got the interview to work at Roscosmos, I thought that it would be a great thing to put on my resume.”

“Well clearly they liked it.”

“Kind of, it was really rough when I showed up, learning Russian was not easy.” I just laughed at him.

“I wouldn’t know how that felt, but learning English was really hard for me. I spent a lot of time not talking to anyone because I didn’t want to learn it. I had a rough time getting adapted, especially to the heat.”  

“If you think California is hot, don’t go anywhere down South.”

“Noted.”

“So now you work here as the wardrobe supervisor. How does that work, don’t they just bring all of their own clothes?”

“Well yes, but I’m here to help out with ironing and there are a few team things that you’ll be doing with the girls so they will need matching clothes and this isn’t the only show I’m working on.”

“I guess I never thought of it like that.”

“Not to mention that every piece of clothing that goes on the screen has to be approved by me.”

“Really?”

“Really. I’m not going to let the show or the network look bad because of me.”

“Literally.” I laughed at him.

“Yes, literally and figuratively.”

“Well I better get going, I’ve got a lot more people to meet.”

“When did you start?”

“Ten minutes ago.”

“With me?”

“What can I say….but anyway I’ll make sure to check back in with you, wouldn’t want my wardrobe to offend anyone.”

“Oh don’t worry about that, I’ve already been through your closet.”

“Have you?”

“What can I say?” He laughed and walked out of the space, and I took in a deep breath trying to calm down my heart.

Over the next couple of weeks the TV studio planned out a general outline for the show and James and I ended up spending a lot of time together. Which was strange. But talking to him was the easiest thing in the word and he always listened to everything I said and vice versa. We easily became friends.

I was working on some other shows, shopping for clothes and he offered to tag along. And I wasn’t going to deny the company, it was a nice change.We talked about the show and he tried everything he could to get me to tell him about the girls, but I wouldn’t say a word. And he kept trying but I was adamant on keeping it a secret. We stopped in at a few different stores and he was very mature until we got to the vintage thrift store. He felt the need to try on anything he could reach or fit in.

“So how did you get into all of this?” I turned and looked at him and he had a feather boa wrapped around his neck, sunglasses on his face, and the most god ugly hat I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t help but laugh at him, I quickly pulled out my phone and took a picture.”I’m going to need that for my twitter.” I just laughed and went back to looking through the dresses.

“When I was in high school I participated in the all school musical. My grandparents didn’t like that I didn’t have any friends and as a project grade for one of my classes working the musical counted. So I thought that I would sign up and work on some kind of crew, that is until I saw that they actually had something called a costume crew.  At the time, I wasn’t completely sure what that entailed but I saw costume and knew that I would be fine if I did something with that. Anyway, I worked on the crew for that show and somehow it turned into one of the only things that I enjoyed doing. I didn’t make any friends, besides my teacher, but it was because I was still really hard to understand and he luckily spoke some Russian.”

“When I got to my senior year, my grandparents were really pressuring me to drop theatre and pursue something more practical, go to an ivy league school. My mother went to school to become a fashion designer, that is of course after she dropped her medical degree. My grandparents were apparently furious with her. So she decided to go to Russia on a study abroad trip, where she met my father and never went back. But anyway, I think that was why my grandparents were so opposed to the idea of me going to school for costume design. But I went and visited my dad my senior year, I had money saved for a car, and spent it on the trip instead. He was the one who convinced me to go after what I loved.”

“He told me that my mother was always so happy when she was designing, it was her true passion. So when I graduated from high school and decided to go to the school of my dreams, my dad was there. His first time in America was for my graduation and his second was for my second graduation.”

“But as it would turn out, my grandparents were furious at me at my degree, whatever they could be mad at they were. So I left and went on the road as a dresser for a national tour. I did that for years before we made a stop in LA to do some sight seeing, I got a job interview to work for the network as wardrobe crew and then I made my way up.”

“That’s incredible.” This time when I looked at him, he was wearing a full fur coat, a pair of cowboy boots, and a helmet from a suit of armor.

“Oh my god.” I laughed and as I did, I quickly took a picture. I reached up and took the helmet off of his head. “What are you doing?”

“I’m just trying to have some fun with you.”

“Well you look ridiculous.”

“Thank you.” He shrugged off the jacket and hung it back up. And started stumbling around when he took off the boots. I grabbed the few things that I picked up around the store and took them to the counter to check out. He came back over after he was done and help me carry bags back to our car. “So where are we going next?”

“Back to the studio.”

“So soon?” He pouted his lip at me.

“Yeah. I bought everything that I needed and rush hour is about to hit, I don’t want to get stuck in traffic.”

“You don’t want to be stuck in traffic with me? I take that to offense.”

“I’m sure you have more important things to do than sit in my car, waiting in traffic.” I smiled and climbed into the passenger side. He climbed into the driver's side and started the car, pulling out of the parking lot.

“Well I do have something going on tonight.”

“See, no reason to wait in traffic all night.”

“Well about said plans, it’s my friend's birthday today.”

“Your friend was born on the fourth of July?”

“Yeah, so we’re throwing him a patriotic themed party. We’re all dressing up in America themed costumes and we’re going to watch the fireworks and probably get drunk and I was wondering if you wanted to come.”

“You want me to come to a party?”

“You’re my friend, I would love for you to come.”

“Okay.”

“And you don’t have to worry about a costume, I know it’s late notice—”

“You think that I don’t have a costume for every holiday?”

“Well it is your job.”

“That it is.”

While we drove back he let me choose the music and he actually liked it, which was crazy because people usually didn’t. He dropped me back off at the studio, giving me the address for the party and I went back to my station to put things away before I left to go get ready. But as much as I didn’t want to admit that I didn’t have a costume in front of James, I now had to find something to wear. And I think I may just have the person in mind.

BUCKY’S POV

As soon as I left the studio I headed over to Steve’s. I knew that he would need help setting up and he also managed to get me a costume at the last second. I didn’t tell him why I needed it, especially since I told him before that I wasn’t wearing a costume, but he seemed to have something for me.

I knocked on the door and he immediately let me in.

“How do you feel about George Washington?” He asked.

“Personally?”

“No. It was the only costume I could find.”

“It’ll have to do I guess.”

“What did you say was the reason for this sudden costume change?” We moved about the apartment, setting up things for the party.

“I didn’t.” I yelled from across the room.

“A woman.” He yelled back.

“I didn’t say that.” I walked over to where he was working.

“That’s exactly why.”

“We’re not dating, she’s a friend of mine, I work with her.”

“She’s on the show? I thought you hadn’t started filming yet.”

“No, she’s not on the show, she in wardrobe. Filming doesn’t start for another month and a half.”

“Do you like her?”

“Yeah, I mean she’s great to talk to and she’s really the only friend that I have made on the show.”

“But do you like her?” I glared at him.

“Why do you have to make this into something that it’s not. I have only known her for a few weeks but I value her friendship, she’s not afraid to tell me how it is.”

“Well I’m not afraid to tell you how it is, I think you like her. And because she is in wardrobe you want to impress her with your costume.”

“Why don’t you worry about the party that we’re about to throw.”

“Maybe you should ask her to join the show.”

“Maybe you should shut up.”

He laughed and went off to do something else. The truth was, in the short time that I had known her, I have grown to like her. I don’t know if it was in the same way that I was looking for with the show, but I had to admit that there was something special about her.

So we finished getting ready for the party and went to change before the first guest showed up. I don’t know when exactly Y/N showed up but I was surprised when she did.

She tapped on my shoulder and when I turned around I was not expecting what I saw, but my jaw did hit the floor.

“Mr. Washington.” She greeted with a smile.

“How could you guess...wait, don’t answer that, you’re the only one whose guessed right. And you are stunning.”

“Thank you.” She laughed. “So where is your friend, I made him a birthday pie.” She held up a plate with the most delicious looking pie.

“Oh my god. I haven’t had one of these since I lived in Moscow.”

“Well, as you know it’s tradition to eat this instead of cake. I quiet honestly like the pies better.”

“Me too. Which is why he probably won’t ever get to taste it.” I took the plate from her hands and went to hide it in the kitchen for later.

“James! It’s not your birthday.”She followed after me and I set the plate on top of the fridge, hoping that no one would see it.

“Please, call me Bucky. No one calls me James except my mother and apparently everyone on set. We’re friends, so please, Bucky.”

“Bucky...it’s not your birthday, that is for your friend…”

“Steve.”

“Steve, it’s for Steve.”

“I’m just putting it up there for safekeeping.”

“Sure.”

“Anyway, I do love this costume of yours. You just have a Captain America, USO girl costume lying around?”

“No, my friend loves the Captain America movies and is really big into Cosplay. So a while ago I made her this costume and she still had it.”

“You made this?”

“Yeah.”

“That deserves a drink.” I walked into the kitchen, grabbed two shots glasses and filled them with whatever was left on the counter. And that was the start of our downward spiral because at least for me the last thing I remember was that first shot.

STEVE’S POV

That was probably the craziest party of my life, really the best way to celebrate my birthday. I got to spend a lot time with my beautiful girlfriend, we set off some pretty awesome fireworks, and I may have drank too much. But I wasn’t going to let a hangover ruin one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time.

As soon as I woke up I grabbed a glass of water and the bottle of aspirin, quickly downing two pills and some of the water before setting it on the table beside Peggy. I made my way to the kitchen and started making a pot of coffee. I heard a groan from the couch and saw Bucky’s head pop up.

“How are you feeling?” I asked.

“I feel like my head could explode.”

“Well, at least you had some fun last night.”

“Did I?” He stood up and headed to the kitchen.

“Yeah you did.”

“What does that mean?”

“I saw you making out with some girl.”

“Some girl?”

“I'm a little fuzzy on the night, all I remember was that she was wearing red, white, and blue.” I lied.

“That was like 95% of the party.”

“I told you I was fuzzy.”

“Well that's great.”

“Maybe she doesn't remember either.” Hopefully she doesn’t.

“Yeah maybe.”

He grabbed a cup of coffee and went to the guest room to take a shower. My next move: figure out if Y/N remembered making out with Bucky.

PART TWO

Let me know what you think or if you would like to be tagged

[scripturehomosexuality]

Fruits of the “Straight”-”Gay” Dichotomy: How Modern Attitudes Affect a Budding Bromance

For the past few weeks and months, this blog has studied how modern sexual concepts are affecting our society. This website has also studied how the “Straight”-”Gay” dichotomy - and the ideas it pushes - causes certain modern trends. However, it’s one thing to read about overall trends and how they affect larger society. It’s quite another to see how it affects individual lives, especially those you know.

That is the purpose of this post: to study the real emotional toll that modern sexual concepts cause, as seen in regular people. This is part of the series “Fruits of the ‘Straight’-’Gay’ Dichotomy”. This series will analyze how that dichotomy manifests itself in complex, subtle ways we don’t think about. This will be done by analyzing certain mundane phenomena (like forum posts), and seeing how the dichotomy influences attitudes displayed therein. It will point out how much the dichotomy (and its ideas) rule our lives, how much damage it causes, and exactly why this system must be destroyed at once.

For this post, we will be studying a December 2012 forum from LoveShack.org, entitled “Is he gay or is this JUST a bromance?” In looking through this page, it might provide a case study into how modern ideas affect relationships between men, and how they are perceived by observers.

The Opening Post

The forum post is started by member “KandiceHanson”, who is worried about her significant other. It should be noted that the words “husband” and “boyfriend” are used in reference to the man. For simplicity’s sake, we’ll just call him the husband.

Going on with the post, “KandiceHanson” knows that her husband loves her, because he shows it regularly . However, she is very concerned about her husband’s bromance with another married man. She described them as being very “touchy-feely”. They also regularly exchanged texts with language such as "I love you", "I miss seeing you", and "I'm always here for you love". They are so close to each other, the husband will drop everything if something goes wrong with his friend.

What perplexes “KandiceHanson” the most is the following: whenever she labels such actions as “gay”, he becomes deeply offended. It also seems that he finds “gay sex” distasteful.  This is despite the fact that “he hugs this guy all the time, is always texting him and making sure they each get home safely and whether or not the other is mad at each other for whatever reason.”

Because of all of this, she asks other forum members this question: is her husband “gay”, “bi”, or is she “barking up the wrong tree”?

Further Context From Other Posts

As it turns out, this is not the first time “KandiceHanson” has expressed concern about her husband. In fact, she had written a similar post the year before.

In that post, she mentions that the man (called “boyfriend” in this post) had been dating her for two years already, and that their relationship was solid. However, when looking through his phone, she found the following message: “Thank you for working with me, you're a great seller!!!! I'll leave amazing feedback when I receive the items! Also, that's a great picture of you, very cute [smiley face emoji].”  

What was the problem with that text? It was sent to a male colleague.

Given the content of the 2011 post, combined with that of the ongoing 2012 post, user “veggirl” yells out “HE IS GAY!!”

Is the Husband “Gay”?

To begin with our analysis, let’s answer the main question: Is the husband “gay”?

In answering that question, there is a fact that we must establish: same-sex attraction is far from a minority condition. Indeed, it is a majority phenomenon, and can be experienced by most humans, whether they admit to it or not.  Admittedly, under our modern sexual ideas, the truth of this might be somewhat obscured, but it doesn’t make it any less true. Thus, in the case of the husband, I personally think that he is attracted to his friend. I also think that such situations are more typical than most people realize or will acknowledge.

However, some readers might then object with the following: “If he is attracted to his friend, doesn’t that mean that he’s ‘gay’”? My response to that is a resounding “no”. I agree with the man’s assertion that he’s not “gay”, and I’ll tell you why.

When most people make that suggestion, they may not be aware that the word “gay” has a double meaning. One is the sexual meaning of “same-sex attraction”. The other is the sexual, cultural, and political meaning that attaches same-sex attraction to a “gay” culture of gender-atypical behavior, drag, and anal play. Those meanings are not often distinguished, but both are used heavily in discussions about “gay” topics. One example is a Youtube video discussing if a man can be “gay” yet dislike anal sex. In the video, the poster uses both meanings, and switches between both silently and seamlessly.  

This is why I don’t use the word to describe general same-sex phenomena, since it causes needless confusion about the topic being discussed.

However, at this point, we can more easily understand the husband’s point of view. The word “gay” attaches myriads of associations to his simple bromance. They are associations which he has no interest in, and might even find repulsive. This would also explain why he is repulsed by “gay sex”, since the phrase usually refers to anal sex, which most men find positively disgusting.

Indeed, the rest of the forum post shows why his stance isn’t somehow irrational. In a few posts, some of the users take the speculation to extraordinary lengths, as they make unwarranted assumptions about his character. For example, user “ninjainpajamas” says the following: “Take a look in his closet, under the floorboard you will find a pink tutu, red heels and a shoe box full of the brightest red lipstick. Seriously, this guy sounds on fiiiiiiiire! What else does he need to do, twirl a feathered boa in your face while in his Marilyn Monroe getup?” Another user (“Million.to.1”) says this: “Have you tried slipping a finger up his ass while giving him head?”

Now, from what we can tell, there is no indication that the man is interested in any of that. He simply wants to be close to his friend. It’s also possible that those statements were intended to be humorous, and are not meant to be taken seriously. Nevertheless, why would those users make those suggestions, unless the word “gay” really came with all those associations? Given that, is his rebellion against being labeled “gay” really unreasonable?

At this point, some readers might ask, “Okay, if he isn’t ‘gay’, what is he?” The truth is his same-sex desires don’t make him “gay”, LGBT, “queer”, X, Y, Z, or anything. Instead, he’s simply a man, expressing his normal and natural desires. There are plenty more like him, whether we want to acknowledge it or not. 

Is It Cheating?

Now, the other concern mentioned is that the husband’s bromance counts as cheating. A number of users suggest that at the very least, the husband’s bromance counts as emotional cheating. A constant theme is that the original poster should be worried about what’s happening, with some suggesting that she should keep the husband under close surveillance. A comment by user “Nightsky” probably summarizes the fears of other users well: “So what does it mean that she's married to a gay... well it means that he is probably ‘cheating’ on her with this man. He's much more likely to give her some nasty STD. He's going to be a half assed partner to her. Oh and finally good chance he'll leave her for a man he really cares about.”

As one can see, this discussion can raise serious issues about what’s allowable in relationships. Thus, we must answer the following questions: does a close same-sex relationship concurrent with an opposite-sex relationship count as cheating? Is it doubly so if that relationship is sexual in nature?

The answer is this: it only counts as cheating in our modern culture. No such concept existed before the late 20th century.

For example, no such concept existed in Ancient Greece, where bisexual behavior was expected even in marriage. A young Greek guy could enjoy a “roll in the hay” with his same sex friend, yet be actively looking for a wife. A man could be married and have children, yet have friendships with other men that could be very erotic in nature. Though history on same sex female activities aren’t extensive, similar things likely happened with the women also.

No such concept seemed to exist even in the Bible, as seen in the story of David and Jonathan. Since Leviticus (the only scripture in existence at the time) only condemned anal sex, it’s very likely that their relationship had erotic elements, though it would have been expressed in non-penetrative ways. Their intimate friendship continued after both had married and had children. Yet, it’s never suggested that their relationship somehow conflicted with their marriages. It also doesn’t seem like their wives had any problems with it. Instead, David was accused of cheating only when he had extramarital sex with a woman named Bathsheba.

Even in the 19th century, close bonds between men weren’t in conflict with opposite-sex relationships. Male friends unashamedly assumed intimate poses in photographs. Letters between same-sex friends were often emotionally intense, and thought nothing of sleeping together in the same bed. As such, as​ ​documented​ ​by​ ​the​ ​Man2Man​ ​Alliance, references to “fleshy poles” and the like appeared in letters describing those male-male sleeping arrangements. Yet, the closeness of those friendships weren't unusual, but instead were the norm.

All of this might be because during those times, “sex” was still defined by penetration. Thus, since any sexual contact done was usually non-penetrative, it wouldn’t have counted as “sex” anyway. Such contact would be undeniably erotic sex play, but not “sex” in the same league as vaginal penetration. Problems would only arise (on multiple levels) if two men engaged in anal sex, because only that would count as “sex”.

Thus, in seeing all this, one thing becomes clear: close relationships between men attached to women wasn’t viewed as cheating, even if said relationships had an erotic component. They simply weren’t conceived as being in conflict with each other. That perception is extremely recent. As much as “gay” and “straight” orthodoxy may find that repulsive, that is the truth. If we deny it, we do so at our own peril.

As a side note, it’s interesting that what is most taboo in modern sexual philosophy - to have erotic relationships with both genders simultaneously - is precisely what was normal in the past. Doesn’t that say a lot about that philosophy, the sexual dichotomy it creates, and how upside-down they really are?

However, another truth about male sexuality becomes readily apparent. It’s time for us to openly state that truth. It’s one that our “Straight”-”Gay” dichotomy tries hard to suppress, modern women nervously try to ignore, and modern Christendom tries to vilify. Because so many parties fear it, it could possibly be called “the awful truth”.

“The Awful Truth”

Before I go any further, I fully realize that the following might be deeply controversial for both “straight” and “gay” people. However, it has become quite clear that our modern sexual concepts are historically unprecedented, and I simply won’t support false illusions for everybody’s comfort. Thus, I believe the following must be told in the frankest way possible.   

This is the absolutely intolerable truth: under the right circumstances, and with the right guy, most guys would unashamedly have hot, sweaty, passionate sex with another man. Most guys would happily fall asleep naked in each other’s arms, and give each other intense pleasure whenever they pleased. Dealings with the opposite gender will never eliminate the need for same-sex intimacy. It is a natural, normal, and permanent fact of male sexuality.

Take it from a guy who knows, and has been hit on by “straight” guys more times than he can count, whether they’re with women or not.

In saying all this, girlfriends and wives must understand the following: if your man is attracted to other men too, it doesn’t necessarily mean he loves you any less. It also doesn’t mean that you are somehow deficient in loving him. Same-sex intimacy and opposite-sex intimacy are simply two separate spheres, and until recently, they weren’t considered conflicting. There are just some things men get from other men that isn’t possible with women, just as the inverse is true for women. That’s not meant to say that men are somehow superior to women; it’s just simply human nature.

The following illustration might drive the point home. For humans to function properly, they must satisfy the needs of their body, including eating food and drinking water. However, humans cannot satisfy both hunger and thirst by only eating food. Nor can they satisfy both by only drinking water. Furthermore, we do not believe that food can directly satisfy thirst, nor can water directly satisfy hunger. Indeed, each need can only be satisfied in its own way: we satisfy hunger by eating, and thirst by drinking.

It works the same way with the erotic needs of males. Most men have a “thirst” for both male company and female company. We cannot expect that dealing exclusively with women will satisfy the need for both modes of intimacy. Nor can we expect the same concerning exclusive relationships with men. Likewise, we cannot expect that hunger for male company is best satisfied by engaging only with women. Nor can hunger for “female” company be satisfied by engaging only with men. Both must be satisfied in their own way: need for male intimacy must be satisfied by men, and need for female intimacy must be satisfied by females. In this way, we recognize by ignoring one need, the whole person suffers. The inverse is also true: by satisfying all needs, the whole person flourishes.

As such, through the work of the Man2Man Alliance, it’s often found that satisfaction of same-sex desires actually improves the quality of male-female relationships. The inverse has also been found true: the suppression of desire for same-sex intimacy endangers the survival of a male-female relationship. Writer Stephanie Coontz said as much in The New York Times, where she says the following:  “In some cases we even cause the breakdown [of male-female relationships] by loading the relationship with too many expectations”, where those relationships are expected to fill the void of same-sex relationships. Thus, if a woman requires her man to completely shun closeness with same-sex friends in favor of her, she very well might be putting their own relationship at risk.

As such, same-sex intimacy does not mean a man will abandon his female partner. More often than not, such a breakup has less to do with the man, and more to do with the modern sexual philosophies in existence. The “Straight”-”Gay” dichotomy is utterly intolerant of bisexuality, and under that system, both “straight” and “gay” people are taught to be likewise intolerant of bisexual behavior in their partners. Thus, this system of sexuality makes men “choose” which gender they will love, even though they might love both. However, this is an absurd choice to decide. It is akin to making men choose to eat only grapes or strawberries, even though they are inclined to both.

However, this does not mean that the fears of women are completely unfounded. The anal-centric model followed in the “gay” community comes with a high risk of STD infection. If their male partners engage in this model, they WILL be infected with an STD sooner or later, which can easily be transmitted to those women. Thus, while same-sex intimacy poses no automatic risk to the survival of an opposite-sex relationship, the chosen mode of intimacy poses a big potential risk to the health of its partners.

Thus, women reading this have a role to play here. If you realize that your man likes guys too, don’t be reactionary. There is nothing you can do to change a man’s sexuality, nor should you try to change it. Even more importantly, don’t label your man or his actions as “gay”. There’s hardly another word that would make a man shut down faster than that.

Instead, be proactive and guide that same-sex desire into healthy channels. To be specific, help steer your man away from the anal-centric model that is popular in the “gay” community, and from any party that would pressure him to follow that model. Instead, guide him towards sexual practices that are non-penetrative (and thus much more safe), and philosophies that help him explore that intimacy in sensible ways. The Man2Man Alliance (link NSFW) and the g0y movement (link NSFW), which are extensively referenced on this site, would be excellent resources for that purpose.

This page of the g0y movement might be especially helpful. Though it’s geared towards parents (and particularly fathers), the principles therein can help anyone who knows a guy who’s into guys (to any degree). Ultimately, the end goals of this information are to

Create an environment where, if the man wants to open up, same-sex desire can be discussed without fear of judgement and punishment

Guide those same-sex desires away from the anal-centric “gay” model, and to more healthy and satisfactory modes of exploration

With your efforts, your male partner might deeply appreciate your concern. What's more, without the involvement of anal, you might find male-male intimacy extremely pleasurable to watch (link NSFW).

The bottom line is this: whether they marry women or not, most men will always be into other men. Attraction to one gender does not conflict with the other, and should not be considered as doing such. Rather than being suppressed, that same-sex desire should be allowed to breathe in healthy ways. The sooner that we acknowledge that bisexuality is an unchangeable fact of male sexuality, the better off everyone will be.

Conclusion

The first entry of this series showed how modern sexual ideas, as brought to their highest fulfillment in the “Straight”-”Gay” dichotomy, affect teens and young adults. This entry shows how those ideas affect their lives when most of them grow up and marry. As you’ve just seen, it can make life very difficult for them.

Thus, this point bears repeating: nobody wins in the “Straight”-”Gay” dichotomy. This is especially obvious when it comes to men. If a man is “straight”, it means that their same-sex friendships must be strained. They must constantly guard against making those relationships too emotionally intimate, let alone physically intimate. Otherwise, they risk being labelled as “gay”, which attaches a carload of associations to those relationships, and paints them as something they are not. If they are “gay”, they are compelled to follow a highly specific type of same-sex intimacy, in which anal play and other things are necessities. If they show they like both genders, they risk being rejected by both “straight” and “gay” people.

While it might not be so obvious, this also does no favors to women attached to those men. By demanding that men go exclusively for women, modern sexual philosophy gives the impression that it’s protecting females. However, if their boyfriends/husbands are found in the arms of another man, that same philosophy turns around and eats those women alive. It suggests that the man turned to men because of some deficiency in the woman - sex wasn’t enjoyable enough, she couldn’t see he was supposedly “gay”, etc. It unfairly humiliates those females for something that is natural and normal, and something they have no control over. As a result, instead of helping men and women reach their fullest potential, modern sexual philosophy honors neither, and actually oppresses and abuses them both.

Ironically, by curtailing same-sex intimacy, modern sexual philosophy also devotes opposite-sex relationships to turmoil and destruction. This is because, in the absence of same-sex relationships, opposite-sex relationships risk being overloaded with “with too many expectations”, as Mrs. Coontz put it. In the case of males, this makes them seek with women what used to be normal in male-male friendships - casually going through life’s adventures with plenty of erotic favors along the way, without necessarily formalizing the friendship in marriage. This can be easily seen in language used to describe sexual mixed-gender relationships outside marriage, with terms like “friends with benefits”, “f--- buddies”, “hook up”, etc.

The problem with this (as has been spectacularly displayed in recent years) is that while same-sex relationships and opposite-sex relationships are equal, they are different in their dynamics. Certain things work in a same-sex relationship that simply don’t in an opposite-sex relationship, and vice versa. For example, opposite-gender sex outside marriage comes with problems that don’t exist in male-male sex (outside the anal-centric model), such as pregnancy, high STD risk, and the like. The sex in such relationships might cause emotional friction that is not inherent in same-sex relationships, which is why they might often be fraught with tension. Furthermore, that tension might continue even when the partners marry, because they continue expecting more than what their relationship can give.

In those opposite-sex relationships, males might expect what women can’t give, and vice-versa. Such discord in expectations may spell doom for that opposite-sex relationship, and both the man and woman might shy away from future ones. However, because of the rules of the “Straight”-”Gay” dichotomy, they also must suppress intimacy with their own gender. Thus isolated from both men and women, the ultimate end of the dichotomy is achieved: to impose absolute isolation and separation among humanity. As a result, the dichotomy cruelly and totally robs people of the intimacy they need to thrive.

Thus, as with the last post, I ask the following questions: Are you okay with letting this continue? Is this any way to live?

By all indications, the “Straight”-”Gay” dichotomy and the philosophy it represents must be destroyed. If if it is not, it will surely destroy we humans first.

Because of this, I urge you to read “The ‘Straight’-’Gay’ Dichotomy: How It Works”, to fully understand how that system functions. I also urge any who read this to go to “For Straight People (though not exclusively)”, which will point to philosophies and forms of same-sex behavior that don’t hinge on demonstratively false concepts. Also read the page “History of the Concept of Homosexuality”, to see how this concept evolved into its modern day meaning. Don’t be afraid of talking about what you learn to others, because that’s the only way progress will be made.

The dichotomy is socially constructed, and thus can be socially deconstructed. With education, you can help to hasten its deconstruction, and we all will be better for it.