#and i was struggling to literally not fall into the toilet because of these heels and anyway

[jodjuya]

I'm dismayed by the referendum outcome but completely unsurprised by it.

I voted "YES" while angry about it.

Angry about it being the most pathetically milquetoast paper tiger possible,

angry that such a piddling insignificant thing was enough to further unify the cookers and the racists (not that there's much of a meaningful division between the two to begin with),

angry that those dropkicks got to freely whitewash their reprehensible nonsense by latching onto the many legitimate concerns about how fucking dodgy the proposal was,

angry that I felt obliged to vote "YES"—despite fully believing the proposal was fucking terrible—out of sheer irrational spite and wrathful indignation toward the very thought of being aligned in the slightest with Australia's broad spectrum fascism-would-be-good-actually crowd,

angry that no matter how pathetic, vague, and incoherent the YES-campaign was, the NO-campaign would be even worse AND that Australia would fall for it hook, line, and sinker; because Australians are an uptight, boorish, and fearfully conservative people with contemptible predictability,

angry that all of this hoopla and utterly deranged dogwhistling became the culture war's hot topic of the month, and Indigenous Australians were subjected to the indignity of a national public debate over whether or not we should say we're thinking about bullying them less,

[Like, "sorry mate, we held a public vote, AND you voted too don't forget! You had your fair say just like the rest of us did! You can't get rid of democracy just because you don't like that you didn't win. Now stop struggling and let the four of us flush your head down the toilet or we'll break your nose first, nerd" (🤮)]

angry that this whole bullshit fucking referendum was lose-lose with extra lose on the side,

angry that I have to attempt to explain the nuances of this lose-lose with extra lose to my child—which I'm thankfully inept at doing so before she loses interest, and so her innocent perception of the world is maintained for the time being—those nuances being:

if YES:

We get constitutional embodiment of "The Voice", an ineffable body as politically significant as the winner of Australian Idol, thanks to coming with so many point-of-failure loopholes that literally what the fuck is even the fucking point of doing this; this is so embarrassingly incompetent, are you for real this stupid at your job that you submitted the first draft minimal effort as your final essay, or can we all just reasonably assume this is merely some bit of insincere virtue-signalling chicanery?

(big "it took me an hour to write those two pages of dialogue, so I thought it would take you an hour to read them!" energy. Funny when Matt Groening does it, but much less so when it's from your so called nation's so called leaders. 😒)

if NO:

(1) holy fucking shit, we can't even collectively bring ourselves to go through the motions of beginning to unfuck our relationship with Indigenous Australians! I have so many negative feelings about that, but right this sec it's mostly shame. If the world was a kindergarten classroom, Australia is the child eating glue.

(2) relief that such a malformed stillbirth of a proposal didn't come into being; with additional relief that its existence now can't be used to justify future heel-dragging.

(3) visceral disgust at knowing there will be many cookers and other assorted far-right degenerates out there being overjoyed with celebration that this mere feint of national movement towards progressivism was shot down

(4) existential horror and Cassandran anguish over knowing that this failure WILL be used to block and forestall progress on all relevant progressivist movements. Like, losing a referendum is the death knell of a movement. Pattern clearly observable throughout history. Recently in New Zealand's attempt at cannabis reform, then further back with Australia's attempts to become a republic, and so on and so forth.

(5) frustration that how could the people doing this not foresee this extremely detrimental outcome and how obviously they were setting themselves up for this failure?? How are our leaders such incompetent and/or conniving bastards?!

(6) irritated frustration that fascism-would-be-good-actually's garbage rhetoric for garbage brains, and the far-right grifters peddling it, have had their whitewashing attempts legitimised and gotten the Overton window ratcheted one step further to the right

with extra lose:

👎🏻 aforementioned indignity of a national public debate over whether or not we should say we're thinking about bullying the Indigenous less

👎🏻 we had to sincerely engage with the incoherent codswallop put forth by the cockwombles of the 'reactionary NO' campaign and their delusional insistence that we "can't make such a divisive change to the constitution" as if the constitution wasn't inherently divisive in every sense of the word since before the ink had even dried on the page, given that it was predicted upon Terra Nullis?

Like, what the entire fuck could be more divisive than "we declare that our country is allowed to exist because we declare that you don't exist! Finders keepers, bitches!!"??

👎🏻 having to wade through the army of well-intentioned muppets volunteering at every polling location to hand out "How To Vote" pamphlets as if filling in this referendum's single yes/no question were anywhere near as complicated as the one-metre-wide ballots for the big state/federal elections

********

Just yuck feelings all around. There was no possibility of a good outcome, and this wasn't the least-bad outcome.

[autistic-bibliophile]

another day of autism making me absolutely hilarious accidentally

[finelinevogue]

Okay this is probably something so sooooo different from other requests you have got.

Can you actually imagine if you were part of 1D. Like you are the only girl there and you and Harry are secretly dating?

Can you do one where the 1D are doing a interview and the intervier is keep on asking questions that is inappropriate to YN and she does not know what to say. And Harry and the boys com to the rescue.

Or

Can you do one where their in stage singing and YN and Harry is just playing around dancing all while singing

Or

Do you remember the BRIT Awards 2014 when Harry was late because he was having a ‘wee’ can you do that but like YN and Harry were just in the bathroom having a quick s3x.

You can which ever one you want but idk where this idea poped but yeah. I like the last one you don’t have to do it tho.

ok im going to try the last one but idk whether it’ll be any good :/

Being in the most successful band in the world was a title that you couldn’t quite understand still.

3 years since being formed on the X Factor you still struggled to wake up every day and remind yourself that this was your life. ‘This’ being the lead singer in One Direction. Alongside you was the other lead, male, singer; Harry. There was Niall who played lead guitar, Louis who played the piano, Liam who played the bass guitar and Zayn who played the drums. You were all a family, well except from you and Harry - that was something different.

It hadn’t taken long for you and Harry to ask you out and originally you’d said no. You thought he would’ve given up and it was his persistence that made you fall for him. You wanted stability in a relationship and Harry proved that he could provide you that.

You loved your relationship with Harry. He was perfect, at least to you. He knew exactly the ins and outs of you. He was able to detect when you were sad and would flourish you with chocolates and flowers to grow a smile back on your face. He knew all your favourite movie quotes and your favourite book characters. He wrote every song about you. You, about him. He made you laugh until your belly hurt and he made you experience unexplainable feelings.

He was a temple of love and it was all for you.

Just like now, as he thrusted into you from behind. He had you bent over the bathroom sink, making you watch him claim you his. His movements were primal and he wasn’t stopping for anyone or anything.

“Fuck you feel so good Y/N.” He grasped your hair and pulled your head back, groaning when he saw your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes were shut tight and mouth hung open in breathlessness. “Open your eyes. Open your eyes and look at yourself.” You did as you were told, moaning at the sight.

He had your dress hitched up around your waist and panties pulled to the side. You were lucky your hair had been done down so that it wouldn’t be obvious what you were doing. Harry was in a gorgeous black suit with a heart printed shirt. You’d picked out his shirt because it matched your dress. It was your first appearance out as an official couple and you wanted to make a statement. The Brits was a good place to make that statement.

“Fuck H, you feel so good.”

“Yeah? Love you so much baby. You’re so beautiful.” Your phone started ringing on the side of the counter. “Ignore it, fuck. I’m nearly there. Y’gonna come for me? Yeah?”

All you could focus in was the way Harry struck into you. He was hard and fast, gripping your hips to help force you back and push him forwards. The sounds were sinful and the pleasure was pure. Nothing would ever feel as good as this. He was pounding you so raw and you knew that you’d have a mass of bruises tomorrow from his grip.

“Wanna come so badly, mhm.”

“Come for me then, baby. Come and then i’ll fill you up so good.” He whispered into your ear, the sounds of your phone still ringing long forgotten. You were both on a cloud so high that nothing else seemed important anymore.

You did as Harry told you, your whole body shaking. Harry had to grip your waist tighter, as your legs were failing to work for themselves and hold you up. As you came, he coated your walls white. Feeling so full had never felt so good. You were so fucked for him, literally.

“Keep all of me in there and i’ll lick it out of you tonight.” He demanded as he pulled out of you, now feeling empty.

He helped you stand up properly and fixed your hair and makeup with you. “So pretty.” He told you, kissing you on the lips once, twice, three times.

“As are you.”

You both walked out of the locked toilets and down the corridors of the O2 arena, where the Brits were being helped. Harry was laughing at something you said when a lady rushed up to you both.

“Where’ve you two been? You’ve won a bloomin’ award and the rest of your band are on stage now!” She seemed cross, but also mixed with a little bit of star struck nerves. You and Harry didn’t miss what she’d said though and took each others hands whilst running off down the corridor.

Harry was in front of you, you not being able to run as fast with your heels on. As you entered the main arena you heard Liam speak.

“I don’t know where you are Harry and Y/N..” Before he spotted you both running down the centre aisle. Harry ran off a bit, leaving you run on your own.

You were scared of breaking your ankle, however, so stopped to try and take them off. You forgot they were buckled though which made the process harder. Before you got the chance to properly undo them, you felt someones, Harry’s, arms tuck underneath your legs and around your back and hoisting you up to carry you bridal style the rest of the way.

“You and your bloody heels.” He rolled his eyes and you kissed his cheek confidently.

As you got to the stage, Harry put you down and took the microphone off of Liam. “Really sorry! We were having a wee.”

Although everyone knew otherwise.

[squid-rp]

River Jones

Angry Blind Werewolf living off of a modest fortune that was shrewdly invested. Respects his alpha (is the most loyal but isn't going to say it openly without good reason), adored his mother and sisters, having to deal with his great-niece showing up out of the blue with her five-year old daughter and keeping them safe on top of everything else going on.

Looking for: His great-niece (just left a bad marriage, has some vague knowledge of the supernatural. Is probably just human, but I'm open).

Bo Brighton

A Regular Ol' Human Hunter in the Circle of Orion, Bo is a diamond in the rough from a midwestern town with a genius intellect who had the misfortune of falling in love with the girl next door when she broke through all his logic and theories of the world with a charming fairytale about falling stars. Vera ended up moving away when her parents divorced, but she and Bo exchanged letters all throughout the rest of their childhood and adolescence . While he didn't look like traditional hunter material in his late teens, Bo was scouted by a set of Hunters who crammed his genius brain chock full of lore of the supernatural and taught him how to fight for himself. He ended up joining the Circle of Orion right as letters from Vera stopped, leading him to wonder if the Supernatural was behind her disappearance.

He's too smart for his own good, tends to ramble, has piss poor social skills at times and has a bunch of knicks and cuts and burns from trying to cobble together some sort of new invention... or make the perfect soufflé (or both).

Looking for: Because I'm terrible, you know full and well that Vera's a GD supernatural. Whoever picks her up gets to pick what she is.

Sarina Corwin

Brackish Siren turned during an adolescent summer afternoon by the river gone terribly wrong. Sarina's sudden change of both diet and demeanor led to great tragedy, leaving her ostracized and out of touch and struggling to learn the ropes on her own. Years spent learning on her own and avoiding hunters has led her to Colorado, where she relishes helping bby supernaturals without a clue find their way in life, while also keeping them safe from hunters.

Looking for: Her concept is still formulating, so she doesn't really have any want ads at this time.

Neriah Hanlon

The Petal and Vine Shop has been a staple of Crow River since the town's inception, all operating out of a dreary-looking Victorian manor owned by the Hanlon family who seems to pass the business and the property from Mother to Daughter throughout the years. These days, the shop is owned by Neriah Hanlon, a Changeling who has secretly been running the shop the entire time. Neriah is something of a town darling -- always willing to lend a helping hand to those who need it, and who would literally give you the shirt off her back and knit you a whole closet if she felt you needed it. In truth, Neriah helps people forget when needed, and as a neutral agent, has probably offered her services to many of the factions within town provided that she gets proper payment of... a secret, a story, a little trinket that has some sentimental value -- anything with meaning.

And for anyone who would threaten her, she'd like to remind you that oleander is such a beautiful bloom, but can be so very poisonous.

Looking for: Still an evolving concept. I kind of want her to be a Mom friend to people, but who can also snap into being TERRIFYING if trifled with. Give her employees at her floral/tea shop/parlor. Give her people she's helped in the past. She's SUPER OLD, and has probably known some of these characters since they were knee high to a grasshopper.

Genevieve Thorne (Née Durand)

Born to a prominent and well-respected family of New York old-money sorcerers, Genevieve was born out of a magically political union and was expected to do the same. While her magical talents were not neglected, Genevieve was always thought of as "less than" when it came to her older brother, even when she proved more capable, more ambitious, and more willing to learn and be more. When the time came, Genevieve ended up showing up to her marriage ceremony, only to end up murdering the groom and most of the wedding attendees (including her own family) with the help of a Vampire that she had fallen head over heels for. While the pair officially tied the knot later, they would refer to that instance as their true wedding.

Genevieve has arrived in Crow River arm-in-arm with her husband, and has made powerful friends to gain a foothold in the city (it does help that Ariana is rather charming and useful) and to gain knowledge. Genevieve's true goal is to find some magical way to render herself immortal while still retaining her magic. Lord only knows if she'll actually find it.... and god help everyone if she does.

Looking for: Her husband, namely. It might also be fun if someone were coming after her for that wedding fiasco.

Everly O'Reilly

A curious creature from her earliest days, Everly had a habit for constantly being underfoot and eavesdropping on everyone's business as a child, which didn't earn her a lot of friends, but did leave her with plenty of time to read and soak up as much knowledge as she could about random subjects during her childhood. As she grew older, Everly became less of a pest and more of an it-girl with an Instagram following to match. She was her school's prom queen, but also the Valedictorian, and she was a shoe in for going to school on a scholarship for journalism. Instead of taking that road, Everly decided to be her own boss and became a Podcaster for things dark and strange and twisted that most people would have balked at investigating. She gained a huge following and her work enabled her to travel the world...

Which is how she ended up in Crow River. Crow River was going to be a quick stop on the way to something greater, but Everly ended up seeing something she shouldn't have seen, and one moment she was snapping a photo... and the next there was darkness...

And then she was literally clawing her way out of the grave in the woods she had been tossed into, newly reborn as a Vara Vampire.

Looking for: She's got "her Yoda" as she likes to say, but I would like to figure out wtf Everly saw that she really shouldn't have, and if anyone needs an accidental Vara bby fledgling that they didn't mean to create, hit me up!

James J. Jamison

A few years ago, James would have said that he was the most unordinary of the unordinary folks. A supernerd to the max (complete with the comic book collection and fondness for dungeons and dragons), James grew up being ostracized by most of his peers because he was VERY HANDS FLAILING ANIMATED LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THIS THING I LOVE. Cue toilet swirlies in the bathroom during recess and lunch. James made friends with another nerd aficionado in elementary school, but said aficionado never learned a healthy way to heal from the psychological trauma of bullying and turned mean instead, quickly becoming a bully himself once he and James reached high school.

And everything would have been all hunky dory had James not pulled his best "What would Lara Croft do" moment and stood up to his ex-best friend, which ultimately earned him the beat down of his life, but earned him a sea of friends who respected him for what he did.

Flash forward a few years, and James was studying to be a graphic artist and was supporting himself in Portland, Oregon by being a pizza delivery driver...

The last thing he saw was the grill of his ex-best friend's car heading right for him... and the next... being cradled in someone's arms, the wet rain, and then... fire and smoke and ash and...

Confusion. James reawoke as a Phoenix and has been trying to piece things together ever since. Luckily, his parents put out a missing person's report for him and he was quickly picked up by a patrol car. After a few weeks of confusion and therapy, James decided to try and go back to his old life, even if he couldn't remember most of it...

But then a letter beckoned him to Crow River, and like Frodo leaving the Shire, James set off on his quest.

Looking For: I would love it forever if someone wanted to be the person inviting James to Crow River. Like, we can hash out that plot together, but I need it like breathing.

Levison Harding

I admittedly do not know too much about Levison beyond a vague concept of him being a native son of Crow River, and a werebear. He left some odd years ago to do things, and just came back after being captured by a group of individuals who hunted supernatural creatures to make a black market of parts for magical rituals, Vampire blood, etc. I think they originally captured Levison for vampire blood and didn't know he was a werebear until he broke out and murdered the lot of them, taking all of the captives with him in the process of escape.

Now seen as the leading figure for a group of Supernatural refugees, Levison has returned home to try and figure out what his next steps are for both himself and the small group of a misfit found family that he's become the head of.

Looking for: Give me the black market group that he's run afoul of now, and give me his found family. There are no alternatives.

Maira Joshi

Another prominent Crow River family, the Joshi's have been present in Colorado records as early as the late 1800's, and they gained a strange notoriety of mostly having daughters within the family. The current head of the family, Faria, hides her status as a seer in plain sight by offering psychic readings and "mediumship" skills to those who aren't in the know, and her abilities as a seer to those who do. Maira is the youngest of her granddaughters, and showed little affinity for magic and happily went along to become an elementary school nurse. She would have stayed that way had she not started having ominous visions all swirling around Crow River, prompting her to take a position in Crow River and move in with her increasingly ailing grandmother for further instruction. Maira -- by her grandmother's own description -- is a sweet and empathetic soul, more likely to slip into someone's dreams to drive away natural nightmares or induce states of calm on the panicked and suffering. Between her growing skills as a Seer and her knowledge of first aid, her true goal is to help where she can, and to stop the terrible future she occasionally still sees from coming to pass.

(SHE IS VERY SOFT Y'ALL.)

Looking for: Other Joshi seers? IDK, I'M JUST EXCITED.

[mirrorworldangel]

OTP Question Meme 1

Got tagged by @r6shippingdelivery thanks for the tags!

Imma do a second one for a different OTP cus this is kinda fun.

Tagging @dimethief @lj-todd @rayearthdudette @retrodisaster​  @ourwarbird and anyone else who wants to try this.

(art done by @ourwarbird)

Gustave “Doc” Kateb x Julien “Rook” Nizan

DISAGREEMENTS

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Usually it’s Doc, but there are some rare occasions Rook would scream.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Neither.

Who actually keeps their word and leaves? Rook, he would either use a different room to sleep in or would leave to stay with someone for a few nights until one of them m up and  

Who trashes the house? Because of an argument? Neither. 

Do either of them get physical? Once, and it was a slap to the face. It never happened again.

How often do they argue/disagree? They would sometimes have a few disagreements and bickerings, but when it comes to big arguments that’s when everybody know shit just hit the fan.

Who is the first to apologize? Whoever feels more guilty for how they acted, which usually is the one in the wrong (once they realise that).

SEX

Who is on top? Depends on who is in the mood of controlling the other, but mostly it’s Doc.

Who is on bottom? Rook, unless Doc let’s him hold the reins. Literally.

Who has the strangest desires? Rook would think it’s him,but Doc is always the more experimentally curious.

Any kinks? Bondage, marking/biting, dirty talk, discipline, lingerie with heels, collar, riding crop, creampie.

Who’s dominate in bed? They let the mood take them.

Is head ever in the equation? Yes.

If so, who is better at performing it? Rook, he has more experience.

Ever had sex in public? Sometimes. From Doc’s office to the communal showers, where they could have their own privacy but  getting the thrill of possibly getting caught.

Who moans the most? Rook, Doc likes to make as many sounds as he could from the man.

Who leaves the most marks? Both.

Who is the most experienced of the two? Both.

Do they ’fuck’ or ‘make love’? Depends on their mood.

Rough or soft? Middle ground, veering more towards rough most of the time.

How long do they usually last? Depends on the day and their stamina, but it’s not uncommon they’ll go for 2 rounds.

Is protection used? Sometimes, but mostly not.

Does it ever get boring? Never. They like to spice things up differently.

Where is the strangest place where they’d had sex? At the infirmary wards, they had to be quiet about it because there are a few operators that were asleep there. But also there was that one time at the parking lot in their car...

FAMILY

Do they plan on having children/ have children? They wanted to, but were afraid of bringing it up because of their busy lives.

If so, how many children to they want/have? One or two, twins at best.

AFFECTION

Who likes to cuddle? Both do, especially after work.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate places? Both, they enjoy the flirting game together to see the other getting hot and bothered,

Who struggles to keep their hands to themselves? Both, but mostly Doc with a bit of dirty talking.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? No idea because I haven’t thought about that.

Who gives the most kisses? Both.

What is their favorite non-sexual activity? Spending time together. Taking walks with their pets, lounging together, and all of the simple things they do together. They also adore sight-seeing around the places whenever they are at other countries together. 

Where is their favorite place to cuddle? Anywhere and anytime.

How often do they get time to themselves? Everyday after work? Weekends and day offs? Its the times they finally get to relax without worrying about work are the best.

SLEEPING

Who snores? Not snoring, but heavily breathing for Rook.

If both do, who snores the loudest? Look at the previous answer.

Do they share a bed or sleep separately? They share.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay separately? They cozy up together, Rook snuggling at Doc’s side with Doc’s arm around him.

What do they wear to bed? Sometimes in their shirts and boxers, sometimes Rook uses Doc’s button-up shirts. They would also sleep naked after sex.  

Are either of them insomniacs? Not really, although if woken up from a nightmares, the other would wake up to accompany them until they go back to bed again.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? Nope, no sleeping pills.

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? Yeah, they wrap their limbs around each other whenever its cold. They also would lay side by side as well.

Who wakes up with bed hair? Both, although Rook is the winner here.

Who wakes up first? Both are early risers, Doc is a bit of a slower paced.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? Both, whoever gets up first.

What is their favourite sleeping position? Either spooning, or one of them using the other’s chest/shoulder as a pillow.

Do they set an alarm each night? Yes, they do have to wake up for work.

Can a television be found in their bedroom? Nope. They have dogs for that.

Who has nightmares? Doc. Rook only occasionally.

Who has ridiculous dreams? Once it’s Rook saying a song verse in his sleep.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? I don’t think so? It’s mostly about the blanket hoardings.

Who makes the bed? Both, they take turns.

Any routines/rituals before bed? Both would kiss their pets goodnight after final rounds of bathroom duty and feeding. Once in bed, Doc would do the occasional reading and Rook with the social media accounts while they were snuggling with the pets that followed them to bed.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? Doc. Pity him.

WORK

Who is the busiest? Doc, being the Head Medic of the team has its responsibilities and paperwork. Rook would try to help him out after Recruit trainings

Who rakes in the highest income? They seem to rank the same in Rainbow so they probably get paid the same? Or maybe because Doc is the Head Medic he earns more?

Are any of them unemployed? Nope.

Who takes the most sick days? No fucking idea.

Who is more likely to turn up late for work? Neither, they’re punctual.

Who sucks up to their boss? None, Doc would rather argue with Harry and Rook would plead at Harry until he gives in

What are their jobs? They're part of the GIGN team within the counter-terrorism group Rainbow.

Who stresses the most? Both, but Doc probably a bit more.

Are they financially stable? I think so, especially with Doc’s family background.

HOME

Who does the washing? Doc, he is a bit fussier with the type of detergent. Although Rook slowly takes over his task because Doc had to stay at work a bit later because of the paperwork.

Who takes out the trash? Whoever finds the trash full before bed or work or else the pets will have a go at it.

Who does the ironing? Both do. You gotta keep the formal uniforms crisp smooth, so why not iron too whatever other clothes need ironing.

Who does the cooking? They cook together, mostly Rook.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? None, unless if they’re too stuck to their phones or had fallen asleep while waiting for the kettle, then it’s a fair game.

Who is messier? The pets.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty? Blame it on the pets.

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Military life has trained them to not keep throwing dirty clothes on the floor, amongst other things. The only exception is when they undress each other and fall in bed kissing and marking each other, they can’t be bothered to think about that in the heat of the moment.

Who forgets to flush the toilet? Neither. The fuck is this question.

Who is the prankster around the house? Again blame it on the pets.

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? One of the pet birds they fostered has a slight obsession with shiny things.

Who mows the lawn? They have an apartment, not a house with garden, so neither in England. If they are at the family cottage, they already had a gardener for that. But at Greece, there is no grass to mow.

Who answers the telephone? Both, but more often Rook.

Who does the vacuuming? Again Rook. This is his deal of the chores because of his habit of fostering stray animals.

Who does the groceries? Both, and they go together.

Who takes the longest to shower? None, they keep to short and efficient showers... unless they hop together under the spray.

Who spends the most time in the bathroom? Both. Being this handsome takes a lot of work. XD

MISCELLANEOUS

Is money a problem? I don’t think so.

How many cars do they own? Each had their own car, so when they start livign together they technically have two cars.

Do they own their home or do they rent? They rent an apartment near the base at England. Once they had to move to Greece, Doc took this as an excuse to buy a beach house for “family visits”.

Do they live in the city or in the country? Somewhere near a small town. Not too far from the base nor the nearest hospital in case of an emergency.

Do they enjoy their surroundings? For the most part. Surroundings are secondary, what matters the most is the company.

What’s their song? I don’t know why, but I always have the song Dandelions by Ruth B playing in my mind every time I think of them. 

What do they do when they’re away from each other? If they’re away from each other that means one of them went on a mission, so they do their jobs. But they also mail each other love letters and foreign bouquets and gifts to the other back home.

Where did they first meet? When they got selected to be part of Rainbow. Though in Rook’s opinion, its at the infirmary back in France.

Who spends the most money when out shopping? Doc is extremely frugal when it comes to grocery shopping, but will easily splurge a custom made $200,000 Lamborghini in a blink of an eye to show off against NIGHTHAVEN. Rook would buy a lot of snacks and treats and toys for their pets, but is usually the one who had to control Doc on his lavish spendings just to show off.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets? If it is meant to spoil the other, then it’s Doc and his family.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? Rook, because it’s rare to see the orderly man stumble adorably.

Any mental issues? Yeah, Doc have PSTD (especially after Outbreak), Doc more than Rook because he had to deal with a lot of deaths head-on.

Who’s terrified of bugs? Neither.

Who kills the spiders around the house? Doc would, behind Rook’s back. While Rook would just simply find a cup and move it away by hand. 

Their favorite place? Their countryside cottage in France, lend from Rook’s parents.

Who pays the bills? Both. They split it in half.

Do they have any fears for their future? Both are terrified of losing the other during a mission. Them dying is something they have more or less assumed, but the other dying? Unthinkable. Especially if they died in their arms.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? Doc. But with a nice home-made dinner tho? Rook is the winner.

Who’s the tallest? Both have the same height I guess?

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? Both, but mostly Rook with permission.

Who wanders around in their underwear? I don’t think either of them would be probe to walking around in their underwear unless it’s for a romantic occasion.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? It would be Rook here, especially when he’s doing chores or dancing together.

What do they tease each other about? Doc would usually fuss about Rook’s weight but that is nothing to the whispers of sweet praises to Rook’s ear with a few kisses, how beautiful and sweet he is and how his loving heart could fit the whole world etc. Rook usually tease him about his motherly habits, but also cooes at how his darling “angel of grace” is always watching him.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? Neither, because Doc has the best taste in men’s fashion and loves to spoil Rook rotten. And Rook has good tastes that he learnt from Warden.

Who crushed first? Rook.

Any alcohol or substance related problems? Nah. But is he occasional weed brownies included?

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Both, all the Spetsnaz go drinking together as a team, so the boys stumble home drunk together.

Who swears the most? Doc at work, Rook in bed. 😄

[penny44224]

I'm home

(It’s been a while I hope you like it😫)

Drinking your freshly brewed coffee as you sat in your office while observing the outside scenery from the window. It’s been exactly five years since you have been married to Chris or formally known as Bang Chan from Stray Kids. What started as a random encounter turned into blissful romance.

You both fought hard to keep your relationship going from the company, parents, and of course the fans. But successfully, everyone saw how much your love for one other is and eventually let it be. This is what you wanted right, to finally be with Chan without second-guessing yourself. So why are you unhappy. The public thinks you guys are living the happy married life together, but in private, you guys were struggling. To start it off, Bang Chan still works for JYP. Meaning, he lives in Seoul while he also lives in Australia which is where you live. You’ve been pushing about wanting to start a family with him ever since you guys got married but the long-distance is becoming a real issue.

You knew how much he loved his career and you support him fully without a doubt. But you couldn’t take it. Because to be honest, you were just lonely. It’s been 8 months since the last time you guys saw each other, felt each other, and kiss each other. You longed for him physically but you knew it wasn’t you say so. You accepted the long distance while you guys were dating but now being married, it was a different story.

Last night, you decided to call him up but that was a horrible idea. You just wanted to check up on him, but it escalated to an intense argument. The last thing you remember is him saying to you, “why the fuck am I still with you!” You never felt so broken that you barely got sleep last night.

Now you're in your office, trying your best to get through the day. On cue, that’s when your coworkers, Lia, Beth, and Maxine came in.

“Y/N did you not see my text messages I sent you!” said Lia

“Oh I’m sorry I haven’t been on my phone” you replied quietly

The girls were always used to your uplifting spirit but notice a sad tone in your voice

“Hey honey you ok?” Beth asked walked closer to you

That’s when finally last night’s emotion hit you. You started brawling in front of your friends while they immediately comfort you. You began to tell them everything that has happened.

“Oh my goodness, I never knew you were dealing with this sweetie,” Maxine says as she hugs you

“I don’t know what to do anymore, does he even love me or are we just staying together because of how hard we fought to be together, “ you say as more tears begin to fall down your cheek

“Don’t say that girl, you know he loves you melanin and all! You guys fought because of how much you love each other. That’s what matters” Maxine states

“But I can’t believe he said that to you, he knows I will literally go to Seoul to beat his ass up!” Lia replied which made you guys giggle

“Exactly go book a flight now and a hotel too” Beth added

“Oh guys stop,” you say now laughing as the tears start to dry

”You know what we can do to cheer you up!” Lia gasped

The girls looked at each other unsure

”THE CLUB” Lia yelled excitedly

”oh my goodness yasss, we can go to the one that just opened!” Beth added

” Uhh guys I'm not sure going to the club will help my problem,” y/n said

”Trust us y/n, the more you stress, the more you will become depressed. So let just let go for one night. ” Maxine says sweetly

You did want to forget about what happened last night so you agreed

”yayyy we gonna party!” Lia jumped up and down

”umm guys, is it ok if I invite Susie, you know she's new to town and I want to show her around,” Beth asked

”of course, she can come” you answered unaware of the butterfly effect you just created

After two hours of getting ready, you examined your self in the mirror. Your hair was up in a high ponytail, smokey face look, a strapless burgundy dress that hugged your curves and lace heels.

”Your gonna have a fun night,” you tell yourself as you hear beeping outside

As you guys were at the club, the girls literally on cloud nine. But you were still in your mood because of what Chan said. That's when Susie, the coworker came over to you

”Hey I heard what happened to you,” Susie said

”of course you did, Beth has a big mouth,” you said rubbing your forehead

”Heyy you need a drink, I'll go get one for you ” She winked and left before you can decline her suggestion

As Susie received your drink, she turned around (with her back facing you ) and dropped a small pill inside of it. When the pill dissolved she walked right toward you

”Here this will help you to let loose” Susie says as she hands you your drink

Your mind was screaming at you don't do it. But you just want to let go of all this hurt you were feeling.As you finished the drink, a rush of adrenaline took over your body in an instant.

After at least ten minutes, you were dancing on top of the bar table while the crowd cheers you on too. Your friends taking videos of you while hyping you up. That when you saw a man from across the room looking at you. The way he stared at you made you dance sexier. He began to smirk and lick his lips at you. Enjoying the effect you had on him, you got off the bar table.

”Girl what was that, you were killin it,” Lia said chapping her hands

” You said get loose so I'm doing exactly that. ” you said flipping your ponytail as you walk toward the mysterious man

As you walked toward him, he stands up from his seat. You got a good look at him, muscles trying their best out hold inside his button-up shirt, hair perfectly styled, and a smile that can light up the room.

”What's your name, handsome?” you asked

”B/W (your bias wrecker) ” he said with a smile

” mmm, you wanna dance,” you said stretch your arm out to him

He took it as you brought him to the center of the dance floor. You two began dancing for quite a while until the DJ started to play slow R&B aka sexual music. (B/W) held your waist and brought you closer to him. You felt everything as his body and your body closed the gap between you too. The feeling was addicting as you feel his lips shadow your neck and bulge on your thigh. You look up at him slowly to meet his eyes. Once both of your eyes met, all you saw was darkness and lust

As you open your eyes, you began stretching. But that's when you felt immediately nauseous, jumped out of bed, and sprinted to the bathroom. After throwing up for the fourth time. You tried reaching for the toilet paper where you usually put it but all you felt was a wall. That when your senses hit you, this wasn't your house.

As you look around your surroundings., you realized. This was a hotel! Maybe the girls and I crashed her because we were so drunk. So you washed up and left the bathroom. As you were walking toward the bedroom, you halt your action immediately. You looked on the floor and saw clothes. But not only yours, male clothes too. So many thoughts filled your head as it pounds. You finally reached the bed and saw him, (B/W) sleeping peacefully yet naked. That when you started to remember everything last night. You felt can not be described. Guilt layer 1 You quickly put on your clothes, grabbed your phone and bolted out of the building.

As you reached home you hopped into the shower. You began to break down letting all last night's mistakes and your latest fight with Chan flood the shower. You cheated on your husband replied over and over in your brain. As guilt flood the atmosphere. You felt extremely horrible but you knew you had to tell him. Guilt layer 2

As you got changed and decided to empty the trash, as you were organizing from the recyclables to the trash, you found a pregnancy box. That’s when you felt a cold chill rise. You forgot to check if you wore a condom, but you rushed out of the hotel room without asking the man. What you were about to do felt sick but you wanted to make sure

After waiting the exact time, you finally saw your results...you never wanted to jump out of a window so badly but you couldn’t since there was not another human inside you. You called up Maxine, telling her everything while balling your eyes out. Guilt layer part 3

” I'm a horrible wife, Maxine. I got so sad that I drank my feelings out because my husband said he doesn't know why he's with me. A-and I made an m-mistake and slept with (B/W) and now I'm giving pregnant. Pregnant from someone who isn't my husband! ” you cried out in pain while lying down in the floor

” y/n how did you even get this drunk in the first place?” Maxine asked

”Well Susie gave a drink, it tasted very fizzy for a drink. ” you said as you sniffed

”Oh my fucking gosh that bitch drugged you. I knew there was something wrong with her I just couldn't put my finger in it. One of my coworkers says they were there last night as saw her in the act but was too drunk to remember until this morning. I'm so sorry I should if stood by you” Maxine explain sadly

”So I'm a cheating worthless wife, who got pregnant over a one night stand because j was drugged by my co worker..” you say blankly analyzing how broken you felt. Your emotions are now numb, realizing everything was your fault. If you would have just said no all of these events would not have taken place. But the only person you can blame is yourself. Guilt layer 4

”y/n don't do anything stupid, we're coming over there right now,” Maxine says but you hung up the phone without giving her an answer

You got up from the floor and loom in the mirror. Your hair was a mess, your face, and a bit swelled from all the crying. You took a deep breath and try telling your self you will be ok. You grabbed the pregnancy test and walked out of the bathroom. Once you enter the living room, you halt your movements as your eyes couldn't believe what you were seeing.

Your one-night stand (B/W) standing with your purse that you probably left at the hotel in his hands while displaying shook expression. But that's not what you shocked about. It was because your husband was also standing in your shared living room with your favorite flowers in his hands looking at you with an expression you can't identify.

Both men are looking at you, while you looking at them thinking this was a dream. But somehow you were still missing something. Your eyes turned traveled to the living table where all you guys family photos we're placed. But there was one photo that stood out the most. It was a photo of your husband and (B/w) in a picture together, a high school picture together. Now all the puzzles pieces are now connected. B/w was chan childhood friend he has mentions you about but you never really met him until now well last night. As the final cherry on top, the guilt cake was completed of worse wife ever. It like Chan knew your realization, he heard everything you said from the bathroom since you were practically yelling and especially (B/W) too.

That when Chan began to speak

”I'm home”

[naturaldisasterfanfiction]

12. Part 6

Robyn is curled tightly into my chest; I feel like she has got closer and closer and got even more comfortable with me. Her breath warmed the fabric of my tee, her legs are hooked around mine and her eyes are closed. I feel a little choked up that she is asleep on me just like that, she is always tired now and I get it. Her stomach is actually just slightly poking me, but I can feel it on me. The day has been eventful and close to her leaving, I am glad she didn’t because they all do run away but she didn’t and that alone makes me want to do better. Robyn is just using me as a comforter, and I don’t mind at all. I don’t think she is asleep actually, her eyes are closed but flutter every so often. Her delicate hand brushed the collar of my tee between her fore and middle finger. Like I said, she is clearly using me as a comforter. I had to pull my chin in to look at Robyn, she is like a baby though, and it’s making me laugh. Kissing her temple and laying my cheek on her head, she is cute, and I can practically watch her sleep until the sunrise, if she is asleep that is. I am not sure if she is but then she would be snoring if that. The movie is still on but is now background noise for us, I am too engrossed in watching Robyn. My hand slid its way, finding her exposed skin, just on her thigh and brushed softly with my fingers. Her breasts are flush up against my ribs and radiated a warmth, this is why I can feel her bump on me. My mind wandered, and then fell right back down to the strong stubborn woman tucked into me. I sat stubborn because she plays it all off about it all, she just doesn’t want to know or is probably scared but she has backed down and now look at us. Clearing my throat “sleepy?” I said but she didn't open her eyes “hm” she shook her head that was pressed just under my collar bone and moved her arm to hook under and around my shoulder. Her left leg hitched around my thigh and her heel dug into the back of my knee. She couldn't be that comfortable, she is just really getting up and all under me “want to go to bed?” I asked because she can’t be comfortable “no” she managed to say, so I am trapped.

I had to laugh, she really just woke up and it’s just ended “so you did fall asleep?” I am shocked she did because she didn’t at first, also no snoring. Robyn looked up at me like a deer caught in headlights but then rested her head back, I did not expect her to sleep at all. I know she been lowkey making some flirtatious jokes “are you ok?” I asked, she seems so quiet “yes, just thinking. I need to stop falling asleep so much, can I have some water” nodding my head, Robyn slowly got up from me, pushing the blanket away “what time is it?” reaching over to the table, grabbing the water bottle “just like two in the morning, the bed is made for you. I did it, it’s the bed where nobody but me or Roro have slept in, don’t worry” seeing her bump, the tee has rode up, moving to the side a little “I am a mess” she seems very tired, watching Robyn drink water like a creep I am, she has a nice neck that I have kissed many of times “do you have like coco butter here?” Robyn asked as she put the cap on the bottle back on “uh, I am sure I do” why does she want that “if you can find it for the morning for me, I am going to pee” watching Robyn get up from the couch, she has not bothered to put the tee down and I can see some kinky lingerie, lacey actually “it’s Savage Fenty” Robyn caught me looking, she smiled at me pulling the tee down “it’s nice” I complimented, Robyn’ smile is infectious, she is so beautiful pregnant.

I am like a dog, I stay put when she goes, I have to laugh at myself with how whipped I am because I love her to death but she has been gone a while and I should find that cocoa butter for her “I am back, your toilet is nice here. I am such a mess, I look terrible. I wish I had my make up with me” Robyn sighed out heavily sitting down “you’re beautiful” she really is “maybe I wanted that compliment” she pointed at me which made me laugh “you want to touch my bump? You can if you want, I don’t want you to feel scared. Have you touched one before? I think” Robyn touched her bump “she does some movements at night, but then it’s when I lay down but if you want, I don’t mind” watching Robyn touch her stomach “does it hurt?” I asked “erm, it’s not painful but I get a lot of aches and pains, stretch marks, a few I have but it’s not painful. It’s like a flutter I feel, she is just moving around, I think she did kick but I was on a conference call and I didn’t react like I wanted, in excitement but it’s not painful, for now. Just I get the general back pains and I am tired, sometimes I am ok with it. My feet seem a little swollen, I do and I don’t sleep because of this so I am more tired” nodding my head “I’ve not bothered to erm, touch that bump” Robyn chuckled “you can touch it if you want” Robyn sat back “you won’t break me, come on” I feel really nervous about this, not sure if I should “I am sure our baby will love to hear her dad, I mean I do. Sometimes” she added, dragging myself along the couch and closer to Robyn “it’s weird to see you like this, you know. To see you pregnant, it’s crazy to me. I don’t know” this is like the real first time because when I did it with Dennis he just wanted pictures “it’s ok” Robyn smiled at me, such a reassuring smile. Shuffling closer “I have never seen such a look on your face, why are you scared? It’s literally ok, come here. Give me your hand” holding my hand out, she held my wrist “just here, mhmm. She isn’t going to move now, I don’t think” squinting my eyes at Robyn “she can feel? Well hear?” I asked, Robyn nodded her head “she knows, we feel together. So also we will hate you together” Robyn smiled at me joking “I can believe that actually” she let my wrist go, I can’t believe that Robyn is pregnant, it’s just not registering “I don’t know why but I want to listen to it, like I want to my ear against it” Robyn giggled “if you want, go for it” shaking my head laughing “I am a weirdo, you know that by now” I won’t be too much “you think if I rub your bump then she will wake up?” Robyn giggled “awww, you’re so cute, I suppose. Try it” lightly rubbing Robyn’ bump “tell her you’re her goofy ass dad” looking up at Robyn laughing “uhh no, oh wait. Are you hungry?” I questioned, Robyn shook her head “like I said, goofy but that is she. That is my daughter moving nigga!” letting out an oh, that is so weird “I love you already” I pressed a kiss to her stomach “you’re making me” Robyn said, moving back smiling “I need to get used to it, I don’t know. I just, I am trying to register a lot, and you know” Robyn placed her hand on my arm “I get it, at first I didn’t but I do. You haven’t had that chance to experience a baby” smiling at Robyn “thank you” she understands, and I am happy that she can understand me.

I swear having ADHD really gets to me, I am just everywhere “do you need anything?” I don’t know why I am asking but I am “what do you mean?” Robyn asked “like, you need anything. You want to be picked up to take you upstairs or your feet nails? You want them done?” Robyn giggled and then cooed out “no I am thank you, but I appreciate it, I don’t need anything” nodding my head, looking down at Robyn’ thighs, they look good to be honest. Dragging my eyes up and meeting Robyn’ she was watching me, of course she was “you had fun with that?” nodding my head, Robyn got up from the couch “you going to sleep?” I jumped up but Robyn pushed me back down “calm down” she chuckled, sitting back down and looking up at Robyn just hovering over me “another toy of yours” Robyn leaned down to pick it up, my hand hovered over Robyn’ thigh, I want to touch but I am trying to be good because I am thinking with my dick and her legs are long, they go on for a while “uh, it’s Royalty’” I know she purposely did that in front of me, licking my lips smiling at her “mhm” Robyn raised an eyebrow and then placed the toy at the side of me, I don’t know why but I sat back on the couch, she is towering over me so like yeah “do you have to go? You good here, you know that right” watching Robyn lift the tee up a little, before she sat on my lap facing me. Licking my top placing my hands on her thighs, lazily she put her arms on my shoulders “I actually can’t wait to go Chris, so you out of luck with that” I am sure Robyn is thinking the same thing as me, she has to be “what time you leaving?” I feel her face coming closer and closer to mine “morning” I breathed out smiling, her face is merely inches from mine “mhm” she smirked, she knows what she is doing “I can drop you off?” I offered; Robyn shook her head but nuzzled my nose along with it “I will be picked up” she is sat right on my dick too.

My hands slid around Robyn to caress her ass as our mouths met finally, first a peck and then into a passionate kiss. I firmly squeezed her round ass, slowly I slid my hands up her back, a low moan from Robyn, she began to slowly grind her hips back and forth in my lap. Breaking away from the kiss, pulling the tee over her head and went right back to kissing Robyn. My hands cupped her breasts in each hand, I don’t know why but I just smiled and then Robyn did too which broke the kiss with her but then began kissing her throat. As I slowly kissed further and further down her chest, I began to lightly swirl my tongue around her nipple, gradually increasing my pace and pressure. Ana's breathing increased along with his pace. I locked my mouth over her nipple and sucked it into my mouth. Her back arched and gasped, clenching my head firmly to her. Letting her nipple go from my mouth looking up at Robyn as she lowered her to me and kissed again, the want and need in the kiss right now, it has been long awaited for us, just us. Robyn moved her head back ever so slightly, her lips hovering over mine. Getting up from the couch with Robyn, I thought I would have struggled but I didn’t and then I was going to throw her on the couch, but I didn’t because she is pregnant. Lightly placing her down on the couch.

Gently I pushed her knees apart, guiding her as she opened herself to me. One foot fell to rest on the floor and I lifted the other up over the back of the sofa. I gazed down at her “now” I said, Robyn hid her face “stop it, I swear. Don’t!” she shouted; her lips swollen. This is pregnancy pussy, I know Robyn’ pussy. I reached out a single finger and slid it up her slit, caressing her inner folds and dragging it across her clit. I brought the coated finger to my lips and sucked, I expected what I remember. She always tastes good; I bent down on to my knees and planted my face firmly inside her thighs. My tongue travelled up her slit, scooping out the sweet nectar. I played my tongue back and forth across the swollen lips, sucking each one into my mouth and nibbling on them as I went. I licked her clean of juices and finally buried my tongue as deeply into her hole as it would go. Robyn gasped; I firmly ran my tongue over her pussy. Finally, I slid my hands under her to cup her ass, massaging them as I licked her. Her hips began to gyrate, and she started to moan. I began to flick her clit with my tongue, she started clenching her ass. I licked her clit as fast as I could and looked up to see her gazing down at me, she roughly squeezed her breast, rolling her nipples again and licking her lips.

I decided to go upstairs to the bed, I am not doing no sex thing on the couch she pregnant and it’s not comfortable “are you sure you’re ok too?” I pointed; I don’t want her to be in pain “would I have started it if so?” pulling my boxers down, stepping out of them. Grabbing the pillow, it’s amazing what things you do and pick when you are ready to have sex, placing the pillow behind Robyn’ back, just under her lowers back “you really out here just picking me everywhere, do I not weigh heavier?” shaking my head “that is because I been wanting this, I been trying to be a good boy. I just want you to be comfortable” the pillow positioned her pussy up towards me at the perfect level. I lifted her legs until her knees were on my shoulders, thighs spread a bit wider to accommodate her pregnant bump. With a slow thrust forward I entered her, smoothly and slowly. Robyn is so wet that my dick slid home easily until I was buried into her. She let out a moan as I filled he, I stayed still for a moment, revelling in the warmth. I began to move in and out of her, surprised at the tightness of her, given the massive amount of lubricant she is producing. I moved slowly in and out of her “you look so beautiful” I increased my pace just a bit and smiled “Jesus, this is different” pregnancy pussy is different in a good way.

Pressing a kiss to the back of Robyn’ head, her leg coiled around me, her fingers digging into my thighs. And I entered her from behind, filling her, her body stretching and opening, accommodating my full length of him. She shuddered; I moved inside of her quickly, quietly, choked with unspoken words and cries of pleasure that got lost into long, agonizing sighs and moans. Robyn’ back pressed against me, holding her against me. Robyn’ hand intertwined with my fingers that was wrapped around her chest “ah, fuck Chris” she breathed out, she pressed a kiss to the back of my hand that was in her hand. Quickening my pace a little as I continued to go in and out of her “I love you” the words came out of her mouth, it wasn’t me which side tracked me “I love you too” I breathed out but getting my mind back to what I was doing “remain pregnant forever” this pussy is the best pussy on gods earth “oh my god!” Robyn squeezed my hand hard, which made me quicken even more knowing her orgasm is here.

I have had that SUV outside Chris’ home for a good ten minutes, this doesn’t include the fact I made Ja get my breakfast and come back with that, so I ate first with Chris. That sex made me not want to get out of bed “you don’t regret us having sex right?” Chris has asked me this for the second time now “not at all, don’t say that. I mean I was in the bed with you still was I not? But it’s made me late, I don’t regret it at all. I just want you to be ok though, your sad face is really making me sad. We had breakfast so that is a good thing” putting my feet in the sneakers, I have taken Chris’ clothes, socks too because I have nothing with me “let me do that for you” looking up at him confused “what?” I questioned “your laces, not good to do all that” he sat next to me, he grabbed my leg and placed it on his lap, I yelped out falling back into the couch “do you really have to go? It’s like you have no appointments or anything, we can literally hide here” I just remained silent, he knows I do “but Chris, I will always be a phone call away. If I don’t pick up then I will be sleeping, that is what I am about now but I will be there” I scoffed “be nice to me, I had sex last night” Chris grinned “I am nice, I was very nice to you during sex” he is right “it was beautiful, it’s been nice Chris. I have enjoyed myself but don’t piss me off and ruin things now that I am gone” I hope he doesn’t “after that pussy, man. I ain’t doing shit, oh and I swear. It freaked me out” he froze while tying my laces “I tasted your milk, not a lie” I gasped “shut up!” I spat “not a lie, I know I did” he never said, that is weird but shameful at the same time “it was nice though” he smiled.

Staring at Ja with the duffle bags “just hurry up, we do need to go!” he shouted, I bet he is not happy. Clasping my hands together sighing out “so” I smiled at him “I don’t want you to go” he is giving me that sad face of his “please don’t do that Chris, we will see each other again. Come on now, I care about you so much. I am here for you, come on” he is stood so far away from me, he is really sad about this “it’s going to be long though, you’re far away Robyn I worry. You know” nodding my head understanding “say bye to us” Chris nodded his head “thank you for staying when I pissed you off, it’s nice to have someone that actually believes in you. He placed his hand over my bump, this time with such ease “I will see you soon dumpling” frowning at him “oh hell no, you what?” I said, I know he didn’t say that “ok mini toot, little dumpling bugaboo” I laughed out shaking my head “stop, that is a no. Come here, I want the biggest hug from you” I said as Chris lazily hugged me, he is so sad “I really don’t want you to go” he said in my ear “we will see each other soon” moving my head back to look at his face, pressing a kiss to his lips. A kiss I initiated, moving my arm to touch his cheek lightly with the back of my hand “I am going to be dropping everything here for you, I am coming. I won’t let you down, have a safe flight and be safe” nodding my head believing him, he kissed my lips before hugging me again.

Climbing into the SUV “about fucking time” the driver closed the door “your booty hurt from sitting around or something?” I asked, he is here crying about doing nothing “not exactly, look they all are waiting on you. But do spill the tea on him, look at him” I didn’t want to look at him but Ja is pointing at him. Looking out of the car window, he is so sad. It’s just the sadness in his eyes, I will miss him a lot. Chris waved and it was weird because the windows are blacked out, he knows I am looking at him “he looks very sad, what did you do?” Ja is asking but I am not saying shit “nothing, we just spoke a lot. We have a lot of history Ja, we had to iron out what is to happen for the baby. I am just worried about him, I have to be careful with trying to make a big deal out of Chris coming to London but if he does get rejected I cannot just leave it at that, I promised him. I don’t think they will but they pick on behaviours and his behaviour and has not been great, not even including the past, more recent things. His misuse of drugs that is known but we need to pray Ja” for his own peace of mind too, I don’t want Chris to be left out and now I had sex with Chris I just have a lot of feelings everywhere right now. My phone pinged in my hand, looking down at my phone and seeing Chris has messaged me, opening the message up ‘Shit is dumb and I miss you but now this home is lonely, extra sad rn. Lemme know you get there safely but I’m going to go and cry, thanks for the bras’ pulling a face at the last part, what bras, I didn’t leave no bras behind “oh” I said, he took them from the bag, nasty ass.

[chocolatemillkk]

CM I

Conor’s been a nuisance to me for as long as I could remember. It was stealing my bike when we were four, telling me santa didn’t exist as soon as he found out at six, blaming his shenanigans on me in school in all the classes we had together, and telling every guy I was interested in that I had herpes. The ones who knew Conor, dated me anyway, but Conor could have very well scared away the love of my life-I’d never know.

Ever since we graduated school and I went to college while he focussed on music, we’d seen each other less and the only bothering he did was tagging me in pointless memes. But every so often when I visited home and our gang met up, I would have to put up with him all over again.

“Come over here!” Jessie tugs me as soon as I get out of my uber. Our friends stand around the car parked in front of her house and they greet me while my face stays buried in Jessie’s shoulder

“Tell me it hasn’t been half a year since we saw each other,” Sam joins the hug and Mel says something about taking a picture of us. When they release me I grab Fran in a hug even though she hated them and notice Conor wasn’t around.

“Where’s Conor?” I ask.

“I thought you’d be glad not to see him,” Mel exchanges a glance with Fran but I don’t understand it.

“Just curious,” I say cautiously. “He’s never missed our mini-reunions.”

“He messaged the group, he’ll meet us at the club.” Jessie says. “Probably already attached himself to a girl there. Let’s go before he does anything stupid.”

“In that case, let’s take our time.” I say dryly with a hint of irritation and my friends just laugh.

We pile into the car and eventually find the street after driving in circles for fifteen minutes. “Could that little shite have picked anything more obscure?” Jessie sighs as she parks.

I hadn’t been to our last meet-up a few months ago due to exams and Conor had missed the meet before that so it’d been a little under a year since I saw Conor. The last time was on the weekend of my 20th birthday where he tried to shove a cupcake in my face. But there was a moment I can’t help but remember. As we were waiting for our separate ubers and he’d leaned into me drunkenly, saying something I’d never forget.

“I think I always loved you.”

“Y/N?” Mel snaps. I hadn’t realised the group was already to the door while I stood still on the sidewalk, remembering the way the words felt against my skin.

“Coming!” I hurry, my heels clacking again the pavement. I catch up to Mel and we walk in silence into the club.

“How’s work been?” I ask Mel, the silence becoming too much.

“Been keeping me busy,” she responds quickly. “I think they went that way.”

With that, she walks ahead of me to the bar where our friends are figuring out the drinks.

“Hey,” I pull Jessie aside after we order them. “Is it just me or is Mel acting weird?”

“Mel?” Jessie was the only person I felt comfortable asking since I knew she would always be objective. “She seems fine to me. Why?”

“I dunno,” I couldn’t put my finger on it. Mel was usually silly with me, teasing me that I was becoming a big nerd. But tonight she’d been serious, deliberately cut the conversation short as if she was mad at me. I would ask her if she was alright later, I decide.

“Ladies,” Sam approaches us, wrapping his arm around Jessie. They’d started dating the summer after graduation and it was no surprise to us. A relief actually, to see all the sexual tension built up between them for years disappear overnight. Quite literally.

“Let’s dance?” Jessie asks us but she’s mostly looking to Sam.

“I’ll just finish my drink first,” I smile-I didn’t feel like being a third wheel. Jessie makes me promise I would join in later and I watch them leave, now all alone. I spot Fran and Mel talking but it seems intense so I turn my back to the crowds and lean on the counter.

“Is it hot in here or is it just you?” I hear the familiar gravelly voice in my ear. My heart beats a little faster as my back straightens in anticipation of the stupid routine Conor and I had.

“You’re so full of shite you should probably find a toilet,” I say easily before turning to stare him straight in the eye. Except. He looked different.

I lose my smirk and my defence as I try to remember what I was going to say to him. He looks older; somehow in the last year he’d lost the boyish look and his features were sharpened by maturity...not that he had any....and with that thought, I remember who I was looking at.

“Still a complete arse, I see.” I look Conor up and down.

“A bigger snob than usual, I see.” Conor retorts but it lacks his usual snarkiness too. Almost as if seeing each other knocked us out of the ring we always fought in. I sip my drink as we find our footing still.

“How’s it going?” Conor asks.

“The usual-going to my snobby school and doing my snobby work.”

Conor chuckles. “Nice to know some things don’t change.”

I don’t answer that, thinking back to what he’d said that night. He was so drunk but apparently not drunk enough to forget because a few mornings after, as I was on the train back to school I’d received a text from him.

I was shitfaced the other night so whatever I said was just nonsense.

The text stung a little even though I never really considered being in love with Conor. His next text reminded me why I never considered it: It’s not like it could work out anyway. You’re too freaky.

Thanks, I’d sent back with an eye-roll emoji. And that had been that.

But it hadn’t been just that. The more I thought about it, the more I realised that deep down I enjoyed the banter. It had become familiar, more reliable than a lot of other things in my life. I’d never miss the juvenile pranks he played on me but our banter was our own little language. And it made me realise other things too, like how it might feel to not have that...like it would make a bigger hole in my heart than I initially thought.

“Have you been working out?” Conor asks beside me and I only barely make out the question over the noise.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I roll my eyes but secretly flattered that he’d noticed.

“No I’m being serious!” Conor says. “You look good!”

I turn my body to him and raise an eyebrow, assessing if he was going to tease me but he seemed genuine. “I’ve been rock climbing recently, and training for a marathon.”

Conor whistles. Well he looked like he was whistling but I don’t hear anything.

“You don’t look bad yourself,” I comment without letting on that I thought he looked really good. Like really really really really good.

“I’ve been making some changes,” he says casually. When I raise an eyebrow he continues, “I cut back on the alcohol but that’s cuz my label said I need to clean up my image and stop partying so much.” He laughs but it has an edge. “And I try to go to the gym but it’s...”

“A losing battle?” I laugh. “Remember that one summer we all made a pact to work on our ‘summer bodies’ but you went for a week and missed your alarm every week after that.”

“To be honest,” he says. “I never set an alarm after the first week.”

My mouth drops, “You piece of shite! You had us all convinced you were struggling!”

Conor laughs with his whole body and my breath catches with the way the room narrows down just to him. Coming out tonight was not good for my heart-I was only falling

“I can’t piss you off now that you’ve been working out-you could probably beat my arse.”

“Who said I couldn’t do it before I worked out?” I tease as I flex my arm. Conor’s eyes widen and he touches the muscle I’d proudly built over the last few months. His touch sends a zap to my nerves and I drop my arm back to its side.

“That’s like-proper muscle.”

“Yeah!” I’d lost the humour as my heart continued to race. It was just Conor. Just Conor.

“What are you two gossiping about?” Meg and Fran appear and she shouts to be heard. I balk-for a few minutes we were actually getting on.

“Was the world ending or were you two laughing with each other.” Fran reads my thoughts and I blush and glance at Conor who’s glancing at me too.

“I was just getting her comfortable for the trouble I have in store later,” Conor says without the usual sauciness. The girls seem to pick up on it because they glance at one another again. God, that was getting annoying.

“I think Conor’s finally growing a brain in that skull of his,” I joke.

“Is that where my brain’s supposed to be?” Conor bounces off my joke and my laugh’s cut short when I realise Meg is staring at us as if we’d grown another head.

“So Conor,” Meg says after we sip our drinks in silence. “It’s been a while since I saw your face. You haven’t sent me any vocal clips anymore of your music.”

“I’ve been working on lyrics actually...” I tune the conversation out, Meg’s comment making me uncomfortable. I don’t remember Meg being anything but snarky towards Conor yet he was sharing his music with her. And not me. Actually he’d never even talked about his music with me, I have to remind myself. Why was I getting jealous over a stupid comment?

“So Fran-you’re even more quiet tonight than usual.” I say.

“I had a long shift this morning.” She groans. “Kids can be brutal.”

“Aw,” I grab her arm. “Then your next drink’s on me!”

“I have a weird question,” Fran says once we get the drinks. She was never one for beating about the bush.

“Shoot,” I say.

“Do you have a thing for Conor?”

My drink nearly comes out of my nose as I choke. Fran hands me napkins as she pats my back and I begin laughing.

“Why would you think that?” I ask, paranoid that my small-big crush was obvious.

“You two are always going off on one another,” she shrugs. “Maybe that’s your way of flirting?”

“Oh my god,” I laugh. “When I flirt, I’m a lot less aggressive! At least I hope so.”

“So the little piece you were doing just now with him?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Uh-wh-no?” I stutter. Fran and I stare at each other before bursting into laughter.

“You are so bad at lying.” Fran shouts.

“Lying about what?” Jessie shows up with Sam trailing behind her.

“Hey! Weren’t you two dancing?” I ask, hoping to distract from the question.

“Yeah! You never showed!” Jessie says. “And I want a drink. Non-alcoholic don't worry.”

“I’ll give you the seat,” Fran slides off and says she was going.

“Not a word!” I shout out to her and she makes an X over her heart.

•••

“Shotgun!” I shout into the dark as our eyes adjust from the flashing lights to the night sky.

“Aw no!” Sam complains. “You know my legs don’t stretch in the back!”

“Should have thought of that before! Shotgun rules says it’s my seat.” I say, a little tipsy but mostly just happy having all my friends together again.

“I call a window!” Sam frowns.

“Where does Conor sit?” Meg asks. “There’s not enough seats.”

“I’ll sit in Y/N’s lap,” Conor wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me to him so I stumble in my heels.

“Get off!” I shove him away, the scrunchie in my hair sliding off. “Ugh.”

“You cut your hair?” Jessie asks as we get in.

“Yeah! Just last week. So many dead ends...” We continue the small talk as the gang piles in the back, Meg agreeing to sit on the floor as she was the smallest. I connect the car with bluetooth and put on a throwback playlist as we reminisce about the old times. Meg falls asleep and we all laugh, the boys taking snaps of her to make fun of. Just as I feel relaxed, the music goes fuzzy and a familiar voice sings through the speakers.

“Isn’t that-“

“Conor!” I twist in my seat and aim to hit his knee but I get Fran instead and while I apologize Conor begins singing out loud which earns groans from everyone.

“Stop hijacking the Bluetooth!” I say and turn my music back on but Conor puts his on again and I feel my frustration rise so I turn it off but Conor just finds a way to play his music again. I cross my arms and sigh, deciding to just ignore it while Jessie starts to hum to the music. Fran and Sam are having a discussion and I feel Conor playing with my hair from the back.

“Stop that!” I twist to see him again and he’s grinning. “Ugh, I hate you.”

“Only because you’re afraid of how much you’d love me,” Conor teases but the words hit too close to home so I flip him off again and turn back in my seat.

Fran and Sam get off first as they lived a few houses down from the other. Next, we drop Meg who took a few shakes and shouts to wake up. Conor says to drop him off at his brother’s and we do so but before he goes in he leans his elbows on my open window.

“You’re gonna get run over,” I say as a car whizzes by behind him.

“So are we doing anything later? This week or something?” Conor ignores my comment.

“Ah I don’t know.” Jessie says. “We can all hang out after work but Y/N’s home for the whole week before she disappears on us again.”

Conor doesn’t even look back at Jessie when he asks me, “Great, maybe I can show you some of my music then.”

I blush, thinking he’d noticed my earlier bitterness about Meg’s comment but his face is casual. “Sounds cool,” I nod and when he’s out of sight Jessie squeals.

“You two are so into each other.”

[butididntpourthewhiskeys]

50 Things I’m Convinced Tay & Joe Do - Baby Edition 

1. Taylor smirking at Joe who claims that the air in the doctor’s room is dry which is the reason why his eyes are watering right after they found out that they’re having a girl. 

 2. Joe’s protective hand constantly reaching for her belly at night whenever she’s changing her sleeping position. 

3. Joe opening his Christmas gift from her that was casually placed under the Christmas tree and him becoming incredibly emotional in front of both of their families because inside the little box, there is a positive pregnancy test. 

4. Taylor and Joe only telling their families and closest friends about her pregnancy at first because Taylor’s too scared to miscarry. 

5. Joe replacing all Nespresso capsules in their houses with decaf capsules because he knows how hard it is for her to waive proper coffee. 

6. Taylor developing a weird disgust towards roasted meat yet always attends dinner at Joe’s family and eats the Sunday roast even if most of it lands in the toilet just minutes after they get home. 

7. Joe always telling Tay that his mum won’t be mad if she’d tell her about her meat related nausea but Taylor still swallows the food anyway. 

8. Joe being overprotective, especially on these days when she’s not feeling well and he’s gone for work. So as soon as she doesn’t pick up her phone for a couple of minutes, he’d immediately call Andrea who then has to calm him down with a soft laugh and a gentle “both of your girls are alright, honey. She’s watching TV with me and her phone’s in the kitchen, so don’t worry.” while Taylor would roll her eyes at his protective behavior but deep down knows how incredibly thankful she is for it. 

 9. Scott always teasing Joe with referring to him as “Daddy over there wants some more potatoes, Andrea” or greeting Joe with “Hi Daddy, how’s it going?” whenever they see each other. 

10. Taylor trying to convince him that their daughter needs to have an old classic and British name such as “Hazel” or “Eleanor” and Joe reminding her that she’s giving birth to a baby, not an old lady. 

11. Taylor feeling incredibly maternal at the end of the second trimester and most of the time falling asleep with a pull string musical crib toy on her belly that plays one of her songs (a gift from her fans, of course). 

12. Joe spending at least half an hour cuddled up to her belly and talking to the baby after not having seen Taylor for a couple of days, always kissing the round belly and telling her how sad he is sometimes because Taylor gets to carry the baby around and feel her all day, but he can’t. 

13. Taylor and Joe constantly fighting about her wanting to wear heels tonight, and him getting angry because she could trip and fall. 

14. Taylor being mad at him for an entire day because she thinks that he thinks that she’s too stupid to walk on high heels for the length of one evening. 

 15. Joe figuring out that the only way to deal with her current hormones is to always give in and let her know how sorry he is and how right she was. 

16. Joe constantly finding her asleep at the weirdest places in the house. Once on a stool with head on the kitchen isle, once on the floor in her walk- in closet. 

17. Taylor feeling like a teenager again because she finds herself crying so often whenever he’s gone filming for a couple of days and she misses him badly. 

 18. Taylor being mocked by everyone in her family because she developed the habit to “free the bump” whenever she’s sitting on the patio and a ray of sunshine is crossing the sky. “The baby needs Vitamine D, guys. Shut up.” she’d say, enjoying the warmth on her belly.

19. Joe volunteering in applying cream on her belly to prevent stretch marks every night. 

 20. Taylor having an increased need for sex in the first months and Joe teasing her with it as much as he can, smirking and mumbling a casual “got it out of your system, love? If yes could you please move a bit so I can watch the rest of this movie? Thank you.” after she just came down from the fifth orgasm that day, sitting on his lap and distracting him from watching a movie on the couch in the living room. 

21. “So rude.” she’d mumble and receive a mischievous laugh from him before cuddling up in his arms again. 

22. Joe’s standard joke being “I mean, I was in the room when the baby was conceived to I might as well be in the room when the baby’s delivered” whenever he’s asked wether he’ll be in the delivery room or not and Taylor rolling her eyes every single time, “He thinks he’s so funny, it’s incredible.” 

23. Joe having the shock of his life when Taylor fainted a couple of times during the first weeks of pregnancy because of low blood pressure, which is absolutely normal yet scared the shit out of him. 

24. Joe literally calling her every two hours to remind her to drink water and eat something when she’s at a meeting because he knows that she forgets. 

 25. Joe literally going nuts after some online magazine releases an article calling Taylor “huge and lazy” because she apparently doesn’t work out enough during pregnancy which results in him wanting to sue the media outlet but Taylor calming him down because she doesn’t give a fuck about this kind of stuff anymore. 

26. Taylor feeling her baby kick for the first time when they’re at dinner with her parents and Joe really trying not to be too emotional and become a cry- baby but keeping his hand on her belly for what feels like the entire evening. 

27. Taylor craving nachos with whip cream on top. 

28. Taylor sitting on the examination couch while waiting for her doctor, trying her best to bat Joe’s hands away from the model of a fetus in a womb: “Stop touching it. You’ll break it!” When the small plastic baby pops out of the fake uterus and onto the floor, Joe’s eyes grow wide and she just rolls her eyes while watching him hysterically trying to put the model back together again before the doctor enters the room. 

29. Joe thanking her for carrying his baby and giving him his own little family whenever they both lay awake at night, but the pleasure is all hers. 

30. Taylor hiding her big bump and boobs under oversized sweaters because she’s insecure about her physical changes. 

31. Joe being well aware of her insecurities which makes him comment things like “you’re so stunning, baby. Is that shirt new?” or “you look gorgeous this morning, how’d you sleep?”. 

32. Joe noticing how motherly Taylor has become because of all the hormones in her body. So every time Patrick is joining them on a winter walk she’d remind the boy to fix his scarf because „it’s colder than you think“ and every time Patrick has a cold she’d cook him a chicken soup, even If he didn’t ask for it which is why Joe and him can’t help but tease her constantly by calling her ‚mummy‘. 

33. Taylor being embarrassed as hell for an entire week because her morning sickness was really bad while she and Joe were stuck in traffic and she had to throw up in a plastic bag after mumbling “I don’t want it to happen, I don’t want it to happen” while sitting next to him which resulted in her having vomit in her hair while crying and him calming her with a hand on her leg: “s’ fine, baby. C'mon. Just glad you feel better now.” 

34. Joe’s mum bursting out to tears as she opens her birthday present and finds an ultrasound scan, which automatically makes Tay emotional as well while hugging his mum for more than five minutes straight. 

35. Taylor often having trouble sleeping because she either struggles with immense nausea or her baby being super active. 

37. Joe waking up one night with tears in his eyes because in his dreams he was holding his baby in his arms and he could see what she looks like and smell her and hear her laugh and everything felt so real, which was the most amazing feeling he has ever felt. 

38. Joe noticing how Taylor craves his closeness even more since she’s pregnant which is why he pulls her into a long hug as often as he can or kisses her forehead more often. 

 39. Taylor showing literally everyone she knows her new “trick” that is placing objects on her huge belly like a tray. 

40. Joe counting all ten toes and all ten fingers on the baby, first thing: “just want to make sure you’ll be able to write some songs. Or make action movies..“ he’d mumble towards the baby, making Taylor laugh from afar. 

 41. Baby Alwyn- Swift having all of Taylor’s features, blonde curls included, but Joe’s lips and his rather introvert personality. 

 42. Joe holding the baby in front of Taylor’s tummy and mumbling a sleepy “we’ll have to put you back in there again if you don’t sleep, love. m’ warning you. The nights were a lot quieter with you in there.” which makes Taylor laugh and the baby stare at him confused before receiving a laugh and a small kiss from her dad. 

43. Taylor announcing the birth of her baby on Instagram with posting a black and white photo of Joe kissing tiny baby feet and the caption “Never felt so blessed in my life. Thanks for all the congratulations and kind messages.” 

44. Joe pretending to eat the baby’s foot or hand which always makes the little one laugh and Taylor as well. 

45. Taylor posting a boomerang on Instagram for fathers day that shows Joe blowing raspberries on the baby’s stomach with a smile on his face and captioning it with “you have changed my heart forever. Happy Father’s Day.” 

46. Joe already spoiling his little girl when she’s just a little toddler and Taylor really not liking it: “He can’t say no. Never. Now she’s just a baby but if he keeps that up our child will be a spoilt rat in a few years” she’d complain to her mom. 

47. Joe surprising Taylor with a vacation to the Bahamas because the baby hasn’t been sleeping at all in weeks and they both wander around like ghosts all day long which is why they both urgently need some relaxation away from London and Nashville.

48. Joe realizing that his baby daughter has a miniature version of his lips which is why he always holds her tiny face right next to his for comparison when they’re with friends and family. 

49. Joe giving the newborn on his arm a tour around their house when both of their parents came over for a first visit at home. He’d stop with her on his arms in the bedroom and mumble “..and this is where you were made, my love” which results in her family’s laughter and an embarrassed Taylor yelling “oh my god, Joseph. You are unbelievable.” 

50. Joe teaching his little girl how to give kisses and always claps his hands to cheer on her whenever her lips made the right move to meet his. After some time, the baby girl loves to give her daddy wet kisses and afterwards automatically claps her little hands as well which makes Joe and Taylor burst out in laughter every time.

[borathae]

↳ The Index [#07 Come Back]

Genre: mostly Angst with some Fluff thrown into the mix

Warnings: a physical fight, mentions/description of blood & injuries, self-hatred, it’s a whole ass Angst fest again lmao sorry not sorry

a/n: Okay so at this point... I am afraid of my own ability to make my characters suffer. Like I legit had to stop writing and take some deep breaths at some points because my heart couldn’t handle it lmao. Anyways, enjoy because dear lord it’s gonna be an angsty ride

Wordcount: 10.4k

You had tried everything the following week, calling Yoongi multiple times a day, sending him message after message begging him to just hear you out. You had waited in front of the restaurant ever day, hoping that he would show up eventually but he never came making you eat alone with a heavy heart. You had gone to his apartment a few times, but you had found it empty every time. Your last hope had been his studio, but you had given up the third time the security guard refused to let you walk any further than to the lobby. So to keep it short, you were out of plans and pretty desperate. You know you had fucked up big times and you can’t blame Yoongi for not wanting to see you. But still you wanted to apologize to him, not because it would make your heart feel lighter, but because he deserves the best apology in the world.

“Y/N you need to come down quickly” Namjoon rushes into your office startling you. You had been thinking about Yoongi again, staring at the email you had sent him just a few moments ago. Your head snaps into his direction, he is panting hard, looking scared.

“What happened?” you ask worriedly.

“Hoseok and Yoongi, they both came to see you. They are in the lobby, literally at each other’s throats”, he rushes out pointing into the direction of the lobby.

They both – what? You feel dizzy, your heart stops in your chest only to race afterwards. You jump up, running out of your office with Namjoon following close by. You stop in front of the closed elevator doors looking at the sign which tells you on which floor it was right now. Sixteenth?! You groan, furiously pressing the elevator button.

“Let’s take the stairs, it’s faster”, Namjoon tells you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you to the big metal doors leading to the stairwell. You rush down the stairs, your toes getting painfully squished in your tight high heels, but you fight through it.

Namjoon pushes the door open for you, never letting go of your wrist until you finally arrive at the side of the two men clawing at each other with a panicky looking Taehyung in the middle.

“Let fucking go of me Taehyung”, Hoseok yells, trying his hardest to push a struggling Taehyung away.

“What’s going on here?” you call out. Their heads snap into your direction, both of them staring at you with anger burning in their eyes.

Hoseoks stance relaxes slightly, the relief obvious in Taehyungs face.

“Oh hey Y/N, finally you are here. I actually came to see you, but I met your lying fiancé first. How are you?” Hoseok says, his voice at a normal volume now that he had noticed you.

“As a matter of fact I’m bad. What the actual fuck is your problem coming to my work and causing a scene like that?” you spit positioning yourself in front of Yoongi with crossed arms.

“I wouldn’t have caused a scene if I hadn’t met this bastard”, Hoseok says pointing at Yoongi.

“Call me a bastard once more and I’ll wipe that smug look off your face”, Yoongi spits.

“I’d like to see you try asshole”, Hoseok growls trying to step closer but Taehyung stops him.

“Stop it man! Calm down!” Taehyung says, struggling once again to keep Hoseok at bay.

“Guys please stop, people are already staring”, you hiss, trying your hardest not to look at the judging faces of your by-passing colleagues.

“Tell me Yoongi how does it feel knowing that I had her first? Knowing that we shared everything together?” Hoseok continues with an evil smirk on his face.

“Hoseok stop it!” you yell sending him a warning glare.

He looks at you, contemplating if he should continue when he sees your angry eyes. His eyes wander to Yoongi, his jaw is clenched, eyes burning holes into Hoseoks face. He just looks like such an easy target right now. He needs to say these things to him.

“How does it feel knowing that despite you trying your hardest, she still came running back to me?” Hoseok spits and you can feel Yoongis hot breath in the back of your neck.  

“Shut it!” Yoongi growls, his nostril flaring.

“You want to know how loud she screamed when I made her cum?” Hoseok says chuckling afterwards.

Taehyungs and Namjoons eyes snap into your direction, their mouths falling open. You glance sideways, feeling nervous now that you had noticed not only their judging stares but from the people walking by as well.

“What is your problem Hoseok?!” you hiss, stepping closer to him with anger burning in your eyes. He looks past you, staring directly into Yoongis dark eyes.

“You know whose name she screamed when I asked her who she belongs to? Mine, she screamed my name!” Hoseok practically yells pointing at his chest.

“You motherfucking asshole”, Yoongi screams, so loud that both you and Namjoon flinch back. He is fast, too fast for anyone to react, launching himself onto Hoseok. The first punch is hard, making Hoseok stumble backwards groaning in pain. His hand comes resting on his aching jaw before a deep chuckle leave his throat.

“Good. Come on hit me asshole! Show Y/N your true self. Come on man punch me!” Hoseok urges Yoongi on, stretching his arms out to make himself an easier target.

Yoongis mind is clouded with anger, his common sense long gone. He launches himself onto Hoseok again, the momentum throwing Hoseok onto the ground, his head hitting the hard stone floor. Yoongi throws punch after punch at Hoseoks face and soon Hoseoks chuckles turn into begs of mercy. Both Namjoon and Taehyung grab at Yoongi, trying their hardest to drag him off of Hoseoks body, but Yoongi has gained inhuman strength making it impossible for them.

“Stop it please I’ve had enough”, Hoseok begs, trying to shield his bleeding face with his hands.

“Fuck you!” Yoongi yells, throwing another punch. It lands directly onto Hoseoks nose, a loud crack echoing through the lobby before an agonizing wail from Hoseok can be heard.

Panic shoots through your system, if you don’t do anything now, Yoongi is going to kill him.

“That’s enough Yoongi!” you scream throwing yourself onto your knees next to Hoseok so you are able to look into Yoongis face.

His dark eyes are boring holes into Hoseoks bleeding face, not even registering you beside him. He raises his arm once again to throw another punch, but you are faster, grabbing at him.

“I said that’s enough!” you spit. His eyes snap into your direction, his features softening upon seeing you, the anger clearing from his eyes.

His slack in strength allows Namjoon and Taehyung to drag him off of Hoseok making Yoongi fall back onto his behind. He looks at his blood covered hands, his knuckles pulsating underneath the bruised skin. His eyes grow big, his stomach twisting in disgust.

“You weren’t supposed to see me like that”, he whispers, crawling backwards before jumping up and rushing off to the toilets.

“Yoongi!” you scream, already launching into running after him before Taehyung stops you.

“We got this. Stay with Hoseok he needs you. Here take my car and get him to the nearest hospital”, he orders you handing you his car keys. You nod, your eyes wandering to Hoseoks curled up form. He is shaking, his body turned to the side and blood dripping onto the white floor.

“Okay”, you say, just so they would get a reaction from you before kneeling down next to Hoseok. Your hand comes resting on his arm making him flinch at your touch, a quiet whimper leaving his lips.

“Oh my god Hoseok, are you okay?” you stutter, gently pushing him onto his back to get a better look at his face. His body is weak, making it easy for you to roll him onto his back. He groans, new blood spilling out from his ruined nose.

“It hurts”, he chokes out, trying to open his eyes to look at you.

You swallow hard, Yoongi had managed to pop a blood vessel in Hoseoks left eye painting the white in a deep red.

“I’m so sorry Hoseok. I’m so sorry I’ll make it good again. I-I’ll take you to the hospital. Don’t worry you’ll be alright”, you sob, pulling out a tissue from your left jeans pocket. It’s dirty and probably terribly unhygienic, but you just want to clean him up a bit. You carefully tap his cheeks, the white tissue instantly turning red. He watches you, clasping onto your thigh for support.

“I told you so Y/N”, he stutters out, wincing when you had accidently pressed down too hard making new pain shoot through his cheek.

“Just shut up right now Hoseok”, you spit, “I’m not in the mood for anything related to my love life.”

“Fine I’ll shut up, ouch, ah fuck, careful”, he nearly yells. You had pressed the tissue to his nose to try and clean him up, but had accidentally put too much pressure on it. He squeezes his eyes closed, his fingernails painfully digging into your thigh.

“Oh shit, fuck, Hobi I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry”, you gasp ripping your hand from his face staring at him in utter shock. He nods, his eyebrows furrowed together in pain.

“Yeah it’s okay”, he groans, forcing a smile to his face.

“No it’s not, it’s my fault. I’m so sorry I’ll make it good again okay? You just, just”, you say, grabbing at his arm to try and pull him up onto his feet, “-just have to work with me real quick, can you do that? I’ll get you to the hospital. Just try and stand up”, you grunt helping him get up on his feet with all your might.

Once he had stood up, you wrap an arm around his waist, griping him as tightly as possible so he wouldn’t fall down again. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, resting his weight on you.

“Thank you Y/N”, he whispers, trying his hardest to focus his eyes. His head is spinning making it hard for him to move, but you are stubborn dragging him out of the building and to the fountain.

“Don’t mention it, just, just sit down here for a moment and we’ll try and get the bleeding to stop okay?” you say helping him sit down on the cold stone before sitting down next to him.

He leans back looking up into the sky, groaning in pain.

“What? No what are you doing? You need to look down, you don’t want the blood to run down the back of your throat”, you tell him gently pushing his head down.

“But then it ruins the pavement”, he croaks pressing his eyes shut. He can feel the blood running from his nose, warm and heavy.

“I don’t fucking care about the pavement right now Hoseok, you are far more important”, you spit gently pressing the already soaked tissue to his nose.

He hisses at first, jerking back at the sudden feeling of something pressing against his face, but relaxes once he realises how gentle you are with him.  

“I’m so sorry Hobi”, you whisper caressing the nape of his neck with your other hand.

He hums in acknowledgement nodding ever so slightly. You use the time it takes for Hoseoks nose to stop bleeding to actually take a good look at his face. A deep purple spot is already forming on his left cheekbone and his left eye is so swollen that he can’t even open it, a single tear glistening in the corner.

“Does it hurt much?” you ask, knowing well enough how unnecessary your question was, making Hoseok scoff.

“Yeah? Hurts like hell actually”, he mumbles before raising his head to look at you. You want to reach out and force him to lower his head again but his words stop you, “I think the bleeding stopped”, he states, touching his nose.

“Oh, yeah? Well, then let’s take you to a hospital now”, you stutter grabbing his arm and pulling him to his feet. You wrap your arm around his waist again, too scared that if you let him walk alone he might collapse. He lets you, draping his arm around your shoulder and trying his hardest not to put too much of his weight on you.

“Okay there, are you sitting comfortably?” you ask him, once you had sat him down on the passenger seat of Taehyungs car. He nods, the new gush of blood oozing out of his nose making you gasp, “Oh my god Hobi! I-, oh my god. Here wait, Taehyung has got some tissues on his backseat”, you stutter out, reaching behind you to pull the tissue box to the front. You pull out three tissues putting them into Hoseoks hand and helping him raise it to his bleeding nose, “Here can you hold it onto your nose like that?”

“Yeah I can, don’t worry it doesn’t even hurt that bad anymore”, Hoseok assures you to which you raise your right eyebrow in disbelief. “Okay maybe it does”, he mumbles before leaning forward as good as the cramped car allows him to.

You start the engine, steering it out of the parking lot and onto the main road. The streets are fairly empty at this time of the day and you are able to drive quite fluently the whole time.

“Hoseok I have to ask”, silence had been present ever since you started driving, only now getting interrupted by you, “What did you think would happen when you talked to Yoongi like that?”

“Definitely not that. I thought he’d punch me two, three times nothing more”, he answers staring out of the window, now that the bleeding had stopped again.

“You are stupid Hobi”, you state making him scoff.

He winces the movement had made new pain shoot up his head. You look at him with worried eyes. He looks miserable, dried patches of blood run all the way down from his nose to his neck before it collects in the white material of his hoodie. You reach over to him, taking his left hand into yours, gently squeezing it. You can see him tense up at your touch, before he relaxes again.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that Yoongi could do that, I really didn’t. Why did you challenge him like that?”

“Because I want you back Y/N and if that means getting beaten up then so be it”, he says before furrowing his eyebrows at the new pain pulsating in his nose.

“What the hell are you on about? Stop talking like that. I don’t want you to get hurt, stop acting so reckless”, you say, gently caressing his skin, “You know that I’m with Yoongi now”, you add and you can feel his hand turn ice cold in yours.

He closes his eyes, forcing his tears down again.

“Hearing you say that hurts far more than any physical wound ever could”, he croaks.

“Hoseok please stop”, you plead. You feel helpless. You want to help him, you really do. You want to see him become better again and move on. But how could you? When deep down in your heart you don’t even want him to?

“Why?”

“Because you don’t deserve to hurt like that.”

“Then why did you suddenly leave?” he says turning his head to look at you.

You swallow staring at the hospital appearing in your view.

“And why did you sleep with me and get my hopes up again?”

His grasp around your hand tightens, your heart beat racing in your chest.

“And why did you call me ‘your Hobi’?” he chokes out.

“I don’t know Hoseok. Please just stop”, you say and you can hear him choke down a sob. You don’t dare to look at him, staring at an empty parking space you had spotted.

“We are here”, you announce pulling the keys out before opening to door and walking to Hoseoks side.

He watches you open the door for him and lean down to help him out of the car. He lets you touch him, despite the stinging pain it causes his heart to feel. You wrap your arm around his waist, draping his arm around your shoulder so he could lean his weight on you.

“Let’s just focus on getting you patched up now”, you say helping him get up the two stairs with your tongue sticking out of your mouth.

“Yeah okay”, he answers quietly, letting you sit him down on one of metal chairs close to the ER reception. He watches you storm off to the counter after that to talk with the receptionist your fingers pointing into his direction. The receptionist looks over your shoulder and he can see him gasp before he nods and raises the telephone receiver to his ear and starts to speak, probably telling someone about Hoseoks current situation.

You return after that sitting down next to him. You sigh, rubbing your eyebrows and resting your elbows on the metal armrest afterwards.

“Everything’s okay?” he asks, eventhough it should be you asking this question.

“Mhm?”, you raise your head, “Oh, yeah everything’s okay, they just-“, you stop turning in your seat to look at him, “-Hoseok why am I still your emergency contact?”

He shrugs his shoulder, avoiding your eyes. Because maybe if something had happened to him and you had been called to the hospital, you would have realised how much you still needed him.

“I don’t know, I was just too lazy to change it that’s all”, he says nonchalantly.

“Alright, well maybe change it one day please”, you say turning away from him again.

It hurts him, his heart stings in his chest and he needs to take a deep breath to force down the whimper threatening to escape. Did you make it your goal to mess with his emotions like that? To make him enjoy every second you spend with him only to crush it mere moments later? He clenches his hand, to stop it from shaking. It really hurts and still he can’t find himself to just stand up and leave you behind on this metal bench. You notice his change in stance, your head snapping around.

“Are you in pain again? Should I tell the receptionist to move you up the patients list”, you babble already rising from your seat.

“No it’s okay just stay seated”, he tells you and you fall down on your chair again.

“Alright, just tell me if it gets worse again. Just hang in there for now, the receptionist told me that it wouldn’t take long”, you say, resting your hand on his and squeezing gently.

It confuses him, your constant change in moods. One moment your throw hurtful words at his head and in the next moment you are caressing him with gentle touches. What exactly do you want him to believe? That you despise him and that you heart doesn’t beat for him anymore? Or that you still enjoy his company and your heart yearns for him deep down? It drives him mad, your hand feels like home and still it feels painfully heavy on his skin.

“Y/N can I-“, he starts but his name ringing through the speakers above your heads stops him.

“It’s your turn”, you gasp staring at the speakers before jumping up and offering him your hand to hold onto, “Come on let’s go.”

He stands up, ignoring your hand and looking down at you afterwards.

“I think I can handle going to the doctor alone”, he tells you and you laugh awkwardly.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I’m just so worried that’s all”, you confess scratching your head, “I’ll wait outside for you okay? I need to go to the toilet anyways”, you add, pointing at the grey door with the word “women” written on it.

“Yeah okay do that”, he says before walking off and opening the doors of the room he had been called to.

You watch him disappear into the room and storm off to the toilets afterwards. Your bladder had been killing you for the last hour already. You sit down on the metal seats after you had relieved yourself, unlocking your phone to kill the time. Judging by Hoseoks wounds, it will still take some time for the doctors to take care of everything. A new messages blinks on top of your screen, calling your attention.

- Tae 🐯: managed to calm down Yoongi ….

- Tae 🐯: what the actual fuck did you do Y/N?

Shit, shit, shit. You had been so immersed in trying to get Yoongi to stop punching Hoseok that you had totally forgotten about Namjoon and Taehyung witnessing the whole scene. They are going to be so angry with you. You lock your phone, ignoring the messages of Taehyung on your screen. You are definitely not ready for a confrontation; you will have enough of that later today. You groan, hiding your face in the palm of your hands. Why does life have to be so complicated?

“I’m finished”, Hoseoks voice rips you from your bubble of self-pity and you look up. He is holding a big bag of ice against his cheek and eye and a white plaster spreads across the bridge of his nose.

You jump up, the worries from before already forgotten.

“So? What did the doctor say? Is your nose broken? And, and what about the blood in your eye? Are you going to have problems seeing because of it? Are you still in pain? Do you want to sit down for a moment?” you bombard him with questions.

He stops you, pressing his pointer finger to your lips. It sends a shiver down your spine, making you swallow.

“First of all take a deep breath Y/N”, he tells you removing his finger from your lips so you would able to let fresh air into your lungs.  Once you seem calm enough he continues.

“Good that’s it. To keep it short. I am fine. Somehow I was lucky enough that my nose didn’t break completely, I got nothing more than a hairline fracture. The doctor told me that I will be healed in around two more likely three weeks.”

“But there was so much blood.”

“Yeah well, I still got pretty much punched straight onto the nose, so a nose bleed was unavoidable really”, he says and you can hear the annoyance clear in his voice.

“I’m really sorry”, you mumble but he dismisses you with a shake of his head.

“Yeah, it’s okay. And to answer your other question, my eye is fine, the doctor told me that a blood vessel popped nothing more. She said and I quote ‘it looks scarier than it actually is’, so don’t worry you won’t have to see me in glasses from now on”, he tells you sending you a smile afterwards.

“That-“, you grunt crossing your arms in front of your chest, “-that wasn’t the reason why I asked you if you would have problems seeing. Besides what do you have against glasses? I like glasses.”

“I’ve got nothing against glasses, I was just teasing you that’s all, you look funny when you are flustered”, he says, laughing.

You scoff, rolling your eyes at him.

“Whatever, let’s go and get you home. You still need to rest some more”, you mumble under your breath before taking his hand and pulling him to the exit.

“Wait? Are you going to drive me home too?” he gasps staring at the back of your head with big eyes.

“Yeah? Of course I am, that’s the least I can do to make it up to you for what Yoongi did”, you tell him turning around and leaning against the passenger door of Taehyungs car.

“That’s very nice of you actually”, he says scratching the back of his neck.

“I’m always nice”, you say shrugging your shoulder and opening the door for him.

“Are you though?” he asks raising his left eyebrow.

“Can you like-“, you stop your sentence, making a gesture of pulling your lips closed by a zipper, “-not test me right now?”

He laughs, clearly amused by being able to tease you, shrugging his shoulders afterwards.

“We’ll see once the pain medication starts working”, he tells you sitting down on the passenger seat.

The ride home is filled with silence, just as Hoseok had hoped the pain medication had started to work and after several tries of wanting to keep teasing you he had fallen silent. Now he is just staring out of the window with half-lidded eyes and his head tiredly swaying from side to side every time you turn the car.

“Keep seated I’ll help you”, you tell him once you have arrived at his apartment, stepping out of the car and running over to his side.

You can feel his eyes on you when you open the passenger seat door and put your arms underneath his armpit to pull him out of the car and to his feet. He wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer than probably necessary, but you ignore it blaming it on the pain medication instead. Thankfully Hoseoks apartment complex has an elevator, which makes the journey to his flat fairly easy.

“Where are your keys?” you ask once the two of you stand in front of his locked front door.

“Inner coat pocket”, he tells you and you reach inside without thinking.

You glide your fingers over his sculpted chest until you can finally feel the hem of his pocket. You reach inside, having to raise your head to avoid squishing your nose against his chest, instantly locking eyes with him. He is so damn close.

“The pocket’s deeper than I thought”, you laugh awkwardly, moving even closer to him to be able to reach deeper into the pocket. His hot breath is tickling your face and you blink trying to re-focus your eyes away from his lips.

“It really is”, he says, his eyes racing between yours.

The sudden cold feeling of his keys against your fingers nearly makes you sigh in relief and you pull back quickly the moment you have them in your fingers. So much for making it clear for him that you don’t want anything from him anymore. You clear your throat, unlocking the door with shaky fingers and wrapping your arm around his waist afterwards.

“Let’s get you inside and ready for bed now”, you tell him ignoring his eyes still staring at your face, leading him past his entrance hall and straight to his bedroom.

Your eyes instantly lock onto his bed, memories of your shared night coming into your mind. You blush, hoping that Hoseok wouldn’t notice, but of course he does smirking to himself. So don’t regret it as much as you wanted to let him believe. He thinks to himself, silently signing songs of victory in his head.

“Here just sit down first and I’ll help you get out of your shoes”, you say, helping him sit down on his bed before kneeling down in front of him and taking his left foot into your hands afterwards.

He is wearing sneakers, just like always, which makes it fairly easy for you to rid him of his shoes. Once you have taken off his coat as well, you rush back to his hallway to store his’ as well as your coat and shoes away. Hoseok is still sitting on the edge of his bed when you return, his eyes staring out of the window.

“Do you want me to help you get out of your ruined sweater?” you ask pointing at the blood-stained collar of his sweater.

He hums, nodding hesitantly. You rush to his closet first, pulling out the first best t-shirt you can find before you walk back to Hoseok.

“Let’s get you comfortable and clean shall we?” you say hooking your fingers under the hem of his sweater before pulling it over his stomach.

He watches you with big eyes, raising his arms once you tell him to. You study his upper body, trying your hardest to stay as collected as possible right now. This is not an opportunity to stare at his body, he is wounded and you offered your help nothing more.

“There is still some blood on your neck and collarbones. Would you mind if I cleaned you up?”

He shrugs his shoulders.

“Do what you need to do”, he says and you nod.

“Alright I’ll be back soon”, you say before storming out of the bedroom and into the bathroom the get a bowl of warm water and a wash cloth. You return once you have everything, putting the bowl down on the floor and wringing out the excess water from the wash cloth.

“Tell me if I hurt you”, you say and start cleaning the blood from his skin afterwards. You start at his collarbones first, working your way up his neck and ear to stop at his face, “you okay?” you ask sending him a quick glance.

“I’ll tell you if I’m not, just continue”, he says staring into your eyes.

They are sparkling with a feeling you can’t quite make out. Is it discomfort because of your hands touching him? Is it hatred for what you did to him? Or is it adoration, love that still burns fiercely in his heart? What you know however, is that it makes you nervous and you look away, watching your fingers work instead. You rub the wash cloth over his cheek, your tongue sticking out in concentration. You just need to put as little pressure as possible on his face and everything should be fine.

“There, now you look pretty again”, you say once you have finished and he snorts.

“I look like shit but thanks for lying I guess”, he scoffs and you roll your eyes.

“Just wanted to give you some positive affirmations but whatever, raise your arms again mister grumpy so I can put your t-shirt on”, you tell him waving the black shirt in front of his pouting face.

“Don’t call me like that”, he tells you once the t-shirt is over his head and he looks at you with his lips turned downwards.

“Well, then don’t act like one”, you laugh gently petting his healthy cheek.

“I can be as grumpy as I want to be, I am in pain and my face is ruined I have a good right to be bad-mooded”, he spits and you raise your hands in defence.

“Fine, I’m sorry I won’t call you like that again”, you say, defeated. “Do you want me to change the ice bag instead?” you ask pointing at the bag of ice on his lap. Condensation water is running down its blue outside surface wetting Hoseoks fingers and grey sweatpants.

He slowly lowers his head to look at it before shaking it.

“No it’s okay, it’s gotten uncomfortably cold on my skin, I think I need a break from it”, he tells you, his voice calmer than before.

“Of course, sure, but let me put it into the freezer in the mean time”, you say pulling the ice bag out of his fingers.

You rush out of his bedroom and into the kitchen. His fridge is far emptier than you had imagined it to be, three bottles of beer and a container of kimchi the only thing you can actually call ‘food’. You sigh, he really needs to take better care of himself. The next thing you spot is a small packet of apple juice and you smile, he still drinks them even after all these years.

The first time you saw him drink one of these had been at one of your shared lunch breaks in junior year of high school. Taehyung had been sick the whole week and with your weak social skills you practically sat alone at your lunch table for five days in a row. Well. Three days in a row to be exact. On the fourth day, one of the a-class students of your parallel class sat down on the empty spot next to you, a big grin on his face and a packet of apple juice in his hand. It was Hoseok. Hoseok, the boy who had moved up to Seoul from a small province high school after his father had found a new job in the city. Hoseok, the boy whom you had sent secret glances every time you saw him walk down the hallways or sit on one of the wooden benches in the schoolyard. Hoseok, the boy who had once stopped the bus driver to drive off without you after one of you teachers had delayed you. Hoseok, the boy on who you had a crush ever since then. He had handed you the packet of apple juice then, and when his fingers brushed yours you both knew you wouldn’t be able to live without you.

You smile sadly. Back then you both were young, young and naïve without any knowledge about how cruel the real world can actually be.

Your hands reach out on their own, grabbing two apple juice packets before closing the fridge door. You take an opened box of chocolate cookies you can find in the rightmost drawer next to his sink as well and leave his kitchen afterwards.

He is still sitting on his bed, staring at nothing, when you enter his bedroom. He looks more tired than before, the bags underneath his eyes obvious in the dim light of the afternoon sun.  

“Hoseok there is practically no food in your fridge, you need to take better care of yourself I don’t want you to starve”, you scold and he scoffs.

“Why? Starving sounds like fun”, he jokes and you tilt your head in confusion.

“Don’t say stuff like that, it’s not funny”, you huff, walking in front of him so he would have to look up at you.

“I was just joking”, he says coldly.

“It’s still not funny Hobi, here take some of these cookies, they will lift your mood”, you say, waving the box of chocolate cookies in front of his face. He snorts, reaching out to take two of the five cookies.

“Thank you”, he mumbles before biting into the first one.

“Also here I found this. Drink it will make you feel better”, you say, sitting down next to him and handing him one of the juice packets.

“I haven’t had this juice in ages”, he mumbles, turning the apple juice packet in his hands.

“But I found it in your fridge” you scoff, tilting your head to the side, “Do you really open your fridge that rarely that you don’t even know the contents of it?” you say in a teasing voice, gently poking your elbow into his side.

He stops drinking, swallowing down the rest of the apple juice loudly. He looks at you and shakes his head.

“I didn’t buy them for me. I bought them for-“, he looks away, “-it’s not important anymore”, he mumbles, sounding sad.

You watch his face in silence. Your mind is racing. Did he buy them for the person you think he bought them for? You?

“For who?” you ask, knowing very well that you have no reason to be that noisy. Not after what you had done to him.

“I’m so tired all of a sudden”, he ignores your question, turning his head to look back into your eyes.

“Sure of course I’m sorry I kept you awake for far too long. You need to rest”, you stutter, jumping up from his bed and taking both of your empty juice packets to throw them into the bin next to his door. You turn around, looking at him, “I’ll go now. Do you want me to go grocery shopping for you before I leave you for good? Just tell me what you want and I can get it for you, that’s the least I can do.”

“Y/N”, he sighs, “please stop feeling bad about what happened, you weren’t the one who punched me. I’m not mad at you.”

“Still, I feel bad because it wasn’t supposed to happen like that”, you murmur lowering your head.

“What do you mean?” he asked sounding confused.

“What I mean is that I was planning on not telling Yoongi about us sleeping together, but he waited for me at my apartment and-“, you groan sitting down on the bed next to Hoseok, “-I’m just so annoyed that everything spiralled out of control like that. I wanted to spare Yoongi of the pain and I failed and by failing I managed to hurt you as well.”

“I honestly don’t really know if you want me to comfort you right now or not”, he says coldly.  

“No don’t comfort me, you don’t need to feel sorry for me I brought this shit upon myself”, you groan again lying down on the soft mattress, dangling your legs over the edge of the bed.

He turns around, studying your face.

“You kind of did”, he says and you send him a glance, “but I think I still need to apologize for one thing, no two things actually. First of all I’m sorry for the way I behaved at your company, it was childish and borderline stupid of me and I’m sorry I embarrassed you in front of your colleagues.”

“Yeah, thank you for realising”, you scoff and he laughs quietly.

“And the second thing is”, he takes a deep breath before turning his back to you, “I’m sorry for sleeping with you, I saw how distressed it made you the next day and that was never my intention I’m really sor-“

“No please stop, oh my god Hoseok stop”, you gasp sitting up and putting a hand on his shoulder, “don’t you dare apologize for that, why would you even think that?”

He looks at your hands resting on his shoulder first before looking away.

“I mean you made it kind of very obvious how you felt about it the next day, so I figured why not apologize so the risk of you starting to hate me would be out of the way.”

“Hobi look at me”, you murmur grabbing his chin and making his head to turn to you, “I told you that I could never hate you and I stand by that. And as far as my stance on us sleeping together is”, you sigh, “I was unfair to you the next morning I realised it the moment I stepped out of your apartment, but I was too much of a coward to ring your bell and tell you that. I’m sorry for causing you such pain.”

“You mean that?”

“I mean that, technically yes I shouldn’t have slept with you because, well you know why. But I don’t know”, you sigh, shrugging your shoulders. “I just don’t want you to think that it’s your fault”, you add giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you Y/N”, he mumbles, smiling at you afterwards. He sighs with relief before lying down on the mattress.

You watch him, hovering you fingers over his stomach but deciding against touching him. Let’s not repeat the same mistake. One time can maybe still be seen as an accident, but twice? No, twice is a conscious choice and you don’t want to give Hoseok hope again. You had apologized now, you let him know how sorry you were for being mean to him, but you had also made it clear enough for him that you were with Yoongi now - in your mind at least.

“So now that everything is settled I’ll be going, I still need to talk with Yoongi and make it up to him. Do you still need something from me before I go?” you say standing up from his bed.

His head snaps up, his eyes big.

“Wait? You are leaving already?”

“Yeah, I told you that I would just bring you home and see that you are all safe in your apartment nothing more”, you tell him and he pouts.  

“Oh, yeah true you did tell me that”, he mumbles, his voice becoming quieter with every word, “You sure you can’t stay any longer?”

“I am pretty sure, there is still a lot of talking I need to do today and it’s already far too late”, you tell him putting distance between the two of you.  

“Okay”, he murmurs before taking a deep breath, “can you at least help me get into bed? My head started to spin again and I want nothing more than to sleep now”, he asks and you nod.

“Sure here take my hand first”, you say stretching your arm out and pulling Hoseok to his feet afterwards. He wobbles a little, holding onto your arm the whole time you pull the blanket back and help him lie down again (his thumb caressing up and down your arm you skilfully ignore).

“Are you comfortable like that?” you ask fluffing up his pillow.

“Yeah I am thank you”, he tells you.

“You are welcome Hobi, sleep well and if you need my help again just call me okay?” you say smiling at him.

“Can I really?” he asks with hopeful eyes.

“Yes you can, I don’t want you to waste away in your apartment like that.”

“Thank you”, he says grinning from ear to ear.

“Don’t mention it”, you smile, cupping his cheek like a mother would her child’s but regretting it right after. Judging by the growing smile on Hoseoks face, it really didn’t seem all the innocent right now.

You pull back, clearing your throat rather loudly and kneeling down to take the bowl of dirty water. “I’ll clean the bowl and I’ll get a glass of water and your pain medication and then I’m gone”, you say walking out of the bedroom to get everything you had told him.

“Thank you”, he calls after you, still smiling brightly.

Once you return to his bedroom he is already fast asleep, breathing steadily out of his opened mouth. You smile sadly, putting the glass of ice-cold water and his pain medication onto his bedside table and stroking through his hair afterwards. He hums in his sleep, his lips twitching up into a smile.

“I’m really sorry Hobi, it hurts me acting this cold towards you, but it’s only for your best”, you whisper before breaking away.

You leave his apartment afterwards, but not before you leave a note on his kitchen table, telling him to only take some pain medication when the pain gets too much to bear and that you will tell Seokjin to bring some groceries to his apartment later that day.

The lobby is empty once you arrive at your work place, the blood stain is already cleaned up and everything seems as if nothing had happened. Well, nearly everything. Your eyes land on Namjoon and Taehyung sitting on one of the stone benches next to the big pot of greenery in the lobby with their arms crossed in front of their chest, both of them staring coldly at you.

Should you even go to them? But then, you don’t know where Yoongi is right now, so you need to talk to them and ask them about his whereabouts. You swallow changing your route from walking to the men’s bathroom to your friends sitting in the corner of the lobby.

“Hey guys have you seen Yoongi?” you greet them, fondling with the sleeves of your coat.

“Why? So can cheat on him again?” Namjoon growls standing up to hover over you.

You look up into his angry face, instantly feeling yourself grow small. His jaw is clenched, his eyebrows furrowed together and his eyes as dark as the night sky. He looks intimidating, too intimidating to keep looking into his eyes and you lower your head.

“No I just wanted to apologize to him”, you mumble staring at the watch on Namjoon’s wrist.

“It’s a little too late for that don’t you think, also if you wouldn’t have been so stupid to cheat on him in the first place there wouldn’t be anything to apologize for”, he growls, closing the distance between the two of you even more, making you take two steps back.

“It, it was a mistake. I didn’t plan on cheating on him I promise, it just got way out of my control”, you try to sound as confident as possible, but Namjoon’s eyes only grow darker.

“Oh for fucks sake woman, you are acting as if you had no opportunity to stop your little adventure with Hoseok. As far as I know Hoseok he probably asked you multiple times if it was okay for him to keep going and you never had the fucking balls to say ‘no actually that’s wrong right now’?”, he barks.

“It’s not as easy as you make it seem Namjoon!” you yell raising your head to look angrily into his eyes, “I was confused and weak and-“, you stop, crossing your arms in front of your chest defensively, “-actually no I don’t need to explain myself to you. Why should I?”

Namjoon scoffs, tracing his tongue over the inside of his mouth.

“I despise people like you, you have no fucking respect for relationships”, he spits and you can’t ignore the pain it causes you to feel.

“Joon”, you gasp stepping back, letting your arms fall to your side.

“It’s Namjoon for you”, he hisses, his eyes as cold as ice.

“Don’t you think you are a bit unfair to me right now”, you say before averting your eyes to look at Taehyung still sitting behind Namjoon, “Tae say something please help me.”

“No I don’t want to help you”, he says turning his head away from you to look at the ceiling with a big pout on his lips.

“Are you angry too?” you ask, your voice small.

“Yes I am”, he mumbles still avoiding your eyes, “I thought we swore to tell each other everything and you keep something as big as this from me? I am hurt.”

“Tae please don’t be like that right now please”, you plead walking past Namjoon to sit down next to Taehyung. You reach out to take his hand into yours, but he pulls away finally looking at you.

Hurt flickers in his eyes, deep creases run across his forehead from the way he is furrowing his eyebrows together.

“No don’t touch me with your traitor hands”, he growls scooting away from you.

“Tae please don’t be-“, you start but Namjoon falls into your words.

“What are you even trying to do here Y/N? Can’t you see that we don’t want to see you right now, just go and talk to your precious Yoongi or whatever you had planned on doing”, he spits and your heart stings in your chest. His words hurt yes, but the knowledge that two of your closest friends are angry with you hurts far more than any words could ever do.

“But I don’t even know where he is”, you mumble, your lower lip already trembling.

“He’s in his studio”, Taehyung mumbles.

“Let’s hope he actually lets you in”, Namjoon adds.

“Yeah, I-“, you stand up, handing Taehyung his car key back, “I, I’ll get going then”, you whisper before turning your back to them and running out of the lobby.

You have never seen them like this before, fuming with anger and hatred burning in their eyes. It had scared you, made you think that Namjoon would explode any second and yell at you in front of everyone in the lobby. And it had hurt you, their words as painful as a freshly sharpened blade piercing through your beating heart. They are disappointed at you and you had no one else to blame for than yourself.

You whimper, stopping in your tracks to take a deep breath. No, you will not cry again. You had cried enough in the past week, you have enough of your eyes burning and your body feeling weak. You just need to keep going a little more, jump into a taxi and drive to Yoongis workplace, to beg the security guard to let you through and then ask Yoongi for his forgiveness, it’s easy you can do it.

The drive to Yoongis workplace turns out to be fight between your stomach telling you it needed to empty itself and your mind telling you to just keep on breathing and endure the sick feeling in your stomach just a little longer. After all, you knew it was just your nerves going crazy with what was to come. You really don’t want to talk with Yoongi right now. What if you he won’t forgive you?

Just as you had assumed the security guard is as persistent with not letting you past the entrance hall as he had been the last few days. You are practically begging him at this point with your hand folded in front of your chest and glassy eyes looking up at him.

“Please Sejin, please let me through just this once I really need to talk with Yoongi please”, you beg with trembling lips. But he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry Y/N, but he told me to not let you through no matter how much you beg and cry”, he states shaking his head.

“Please Sejin, please I’ll pay for your lunch for the next three years, I’ll drive your children to school if you want, please I’ll do anything just please let me through”, you plead but he shakes his head again.

“No, bribery doesn’t work on me”, he states and you sigh already giving up.

“Let her through it’s okay”, a deep voice rings from behind the security guard making him turn around. His tall frame is blocking your view and no matter how much you move and jump around you aren’t able to see the owner of the voice.

“Yes of course sir, I was just doing my job please forgive me”, the security guard says before stepping away from the entrance.

Yoongis slim frame appears in front of you, a black mask covering the lower side of his face and his long bangs nearly covering all of his forehead and eyes.

“Don’t apologize you are doing an amazing job”, Yoongi reassures the guard before letting his eyes wander to you. He signals you to enter the secured area with a nod of his head, “Follow me”, he mumbles before turning his back to you and walking away.

You rush through the now opened baffle gate, bidding the security guard goodbye with a bow of your head and storming after Yoongis disappearing figure.

“Thank you”, you say once you arrive at his side, panting hard from having to run.

He hums, nodding his head.

“Sure”, he mumbles before stopping in front of his closed studio door. He presses the buttons on his passcode-pad and his door springs open with a loud peep. “Shoes off”, he mumbles slipping out of his boots into his fur slippers and disappearing behind the black curtain, which is hanging in front of his studio door.

You pull your high heels from your feet, only now realising how much they had painfully squished your toes together and slip into the cloth slippers Yoongi always keeps outside for you before walking into his studio.

It smells like alcohol and cheap instant ramen inside and you have to cough at first, holding your hand over your nose. You look around, your eyes land on the small coffee table he normally likes to keep clean, but now piles of empty instant food packages and a variety of empty alcohol bottles, mostly soju and beer, are littering the whole glass surface.

“Sit down”, he says, turning around in his chair and pointing at the sofa on which a pillow and a dirty looking blanket are spread out.

You nod, taking the pillow into your hands to make some space for you and sit down. It creaks underneath you, the sound deafeningly loud in the silent room. He is just staring at you through his dark bangs, the mask making it hard for you to decipher his current emotion. Is he disgusted with you? Is he sad? Is he angry with you? The silence kills you, you want to break it, want to say something but your mind is blank, all of the conversations you had planned out in the taxi beforehand suddenly washed away from your memories.

“Did you come here to stare?” he asks coldly and it makes you jump.

“Hm? What? Oh, no, I, no”, you stutter, straightening yourself on his couch. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your shaking voice, “I came to apologize”, you say, swallowing hard once the words had left your lips.

Is he going to snap at you and send you away? Or is he going to listen to you? You hold your breath, fidgeting with the hem of your skirt.

“Alright then do that”, he says leaning back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Oh, yes, yes of course”, you mumble looking away.

Is he actually going to hear you out? You feel lighter already, now that your first worry of him sending you away had been proven wrong. The conversation you had planned out comes back into your mind and you take a deep breath. Now you just need to say it exactly how you had planned and everything will be good.

“Okay so I want to apologize to you. I did the worst thing a person can do to their partner, I broke your trust and I am so terribly sorry for that. I hurt you, I know I did and I understand if you don’t want to see me anymore. I just-”, you take a breath, you feel dizzy suddenly, having forgotten to breathe the whole time, “-I want to say how sorry I am, not because it would me make feel less guilty no, but because you deserve to hear these words from me. So yes, I am so, so, so sorry Yoongi for hurting you, I’m so sorry”, you hold your breath once you have finished your words staring at him with racing eyes.

He stays silent, his whole body stiff. If it wasn’t for his chest heaving up and down quickly, you would have thought he had dropped dead.  

“I hope you know how much you actually hurt me. I trusted you, you even pinky-promised me that you wouldn’t cheat on me and then just a week later I find you walking into your apartment, hair messy, his sweats hanging on your hips like it is the most normal thing in the world and his cum probably still sticking to your legs. Do you even know how much that fucking hurts?”

“I know, I’m sorry”, you whisper looking to the ground.

“And then he even dares to come to your work as if he owns you again and even dares to fucking challenge me and you-”, he stops leaning forward in his chair, “-you abandon me to care for him? Seriously Y/N? I was brave enough to actually leave my studio for once and to ask you if you wanted to talk because I actually missed you and you run off with him. Again you chose to hurt me”, he spits pointing an accusing finger at you.  

“No, Yoongi it wasn’t like this you have to believe me. He was in pain, bleeding out of his nose and I just wanted to make sure that he was going to get the proper care. I would have done this to every person, not just him please believe me. I didn’t do it to hurt you, please believe me”, you plead folding your hands in front of your chest.  

“And driving him to the hospital took you-”, he rolls the sleeve of his jumper up to take a look at his watch, “-four hours?” he finishes, shaking his head so his eyes would finally be visible through his bangs.

They are cold, anger burning in them, but still you could see the hurt flickering up every now and then.

“I drove him home as well. The doctor said it’s better for him not to drive with a broken nose and swollen eye”, you confess and you expect him to scoff, to shake his head and to tell you how much you had hurt him.

What you hadn’t expected was for him to lower his head in shame to stare at his shaking hands. Your eyes follow his, landing on the bruised skin of his knuckles. He clenches his hands into fists before hiding them between his legs.

“You weren’t supposed to see me like this”, he murmurs and you can hear him sniffle.

“What do you mean Yoongi?”

“I hate violence, hell I hate every kind of confrontation. I have never yelled at a person in my life before let alone punched someone, but I, I didn’t want to beat him up like that, I don’t know what happened to me, it was like I was blinded by my anger and jealousy and hurt that I became this monster of a human.”

“You are not a monster”, you tell him shaking your head.  

“Am I not?” he asks raising his head to stare at you with glassy eyes, “First I lie to you like a coward and then I let my anger get the best of me and beat up another person so badly he needs to be treated in hospital”, he hides his head in his hands afterwards sighing loudly, well more like whimpering.

“Yoongi please don’t blame yourself, it was my betrayal that made everything spiral out of control”, you try to comfort him.  

“Well, it was still my fucking hands that beat up another human. You don’t understand Y/N, I wanted him dead, I actually wanted him dead. The voice inside of me kept telling me to punch harder and harder that he needed to die”, he confesses, his whole body shaking.

You can’t deny the sick feeling in your stomach his words cause but despite that you stay, getting up from the couch to close the distance between the two of you, kneeling down in front of him.

“I hate myself so much Y/N. I always manage to ruin every relationship that I cherish. I manage to lose my best friend since middle-school just because I was too proud to apologize to him before he changed school. I manage to make my parents hate me, just because I was too fucking stubborn to actually agree to go the law school instead of studying music. And now I manage to scare the love of my life away just because I couldn’t control the demon inside of me”, he sobs, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes to stop the tears from falling.

“I’m still here am I not? Baby please stop blaming yourself”, you whisper resting your hands on his knees. His muscle tightens underneath your fingers, his breath hitching in his throat.

“I’m so scared of loosing you Y/N”, he whispers, letting his right hand fall onto yours. It feels wet against your skin and you turn your hand to intertwine your fingers with his.

“I won’t be going anywhere Yoongi. If you let me be by your side again, if you can give me another chance I promise to stay with you and to treat you with nothing but respect and love”, you tell him, squeezing his hand.

He looks up, his eyes red and swollen, his mask had slipped down his face, exposing the red tip of his nose.

“I think I would want that”, he murmurs blinking twice, “Despite everyone telling me to just break up with you, I can’t bring it over my heart. I don’t know if that makes me weak or just plainly stupid, but I think I want to give you another chance Y/N, I just need you too much”, he says and it’s your turn to break into tears.

You sob resting your head on his knees and hugging his calves like it was the only thing keeping you from falling down. You only realise now, how much the last few days had burdened you and you sob nuzzling your face into his leg. You cry letting everything get washed away from your heavy heart, the fear that Yoongi would never forgive you, the guilt you feel for seeing Hoseok in so much pain and the heartache Namjoons and Taehyungs words had caused. You need that right now, you want to cry everything away that had made it so hard to sleep in the last few days.

Yoongi just watches you in silence, combing his fingers through your hair to sooth you. It calms him in a weird way, watching you cry all your worries away, knowing that you would feel lighter afterwards. He wants to see you happy again, he had missed your smile so much.

“It’s okay princess I am here”, he whispers massaging your scalp.

“Thank you baby for giving me another chance, thank you so much”, you hiccup, raising your head to look up at him.

He smiles, wiping away the tears staining your cheeks.

“Thank you for apologizing to me”, he answers and you nod furiously.

“Of course, of course baby you deserve this apology, you deserve it so much”, you babble, straightening yourself up.

You hook your fingers in his mask to pull it under his chin, it squishes his cheeks, before cupping his now naked face in your hands. You lean forward to kiss him, to really make it up to him, but he leans back, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and pulling your hands from his face.

“Can you give me some time please? I don’t think I’m ready to kiss you again”, he confesses, looking scared.

You put distance between the two of you, standing up and taking a step back, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable.

“Oh, yes of course take as much time as you need. I don’t want to pressure you into anything”, you assure him and he smiles.

“Thank you for understanding”, he says and you nod.

“Of course baby, always tell me if something I’m doing makes you uncomfortable”, you tell him and he nods.

“I will thank you”, he smiles looking at you with fond eyes.

You feel warm inside, your heart fluttering in your chest; you really had missed his beautiful smile and warm eyes.

[lady-dimitrescus-loving-wife]

Hisollumi || I’m Your No One and You’re My Fuck Up

Warning: This story will include younger character x older character, rape, murder, child abuse, mental abuse, attempted murder, underage sex, and etc.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

📖🍋🕸

-

Florescence lights of aqua, violet, turquoise, crimson and many others shivered and spun around the pub casting color in various areas of darkness nonstop. Giggles and chuckles ran through the building, music bumping and bodies humping against each other.

Hisoka had been in the bathroom, cheeks red and shirt in between his teeth, wrinkled and a bit wet due to his saliva staining the fabric. The room had been empty of course unless someone came in to puke, do drugs, or fuck which wasn’t likely considering it was happening out on the dance floor. His pants was rolled down his wide thighs baggy and wrinkled presenting smooth pale skin shining under the dimly lit bathroom lights. Shaking a bit as he played with himself.

His hands were gentle at first, careful to not hurt himself with those claws he called nails. A shaky grunt left his struggling mouth as his pointer and middle fingers flexed and rubbed over his labia minora causing sensations so sweet that he he could almost taste it. Thighs jumping when the nail of his thumb scraped just right against his clitoris hood. He moaned sharply, the fabric in his mouth threatened to slip for a second as he resorted to laying his head on the hood of the toilet. Hair sticking to his head due to sweat but mainly still gelled up as his golden orbs slowly slid shut, his mind wandering.

Long pitch black locks that for some reason reminded him of gunpowder, a strong but lean body that was both feminine and masculine, and those unusually wide obsidian eyes that could literally see into a human beings soul. Such beauty. Such beauty indeed.

Hisoka felt his breath hitch as he pushed in a finger, vagina stretching a little giving off a warm feeling as it surrounded the digit. The skillful digits slid into the warm wet cavern as he arched on the toilet seat, muscles in his stomach tensing as he gasped, legs coming up and spreading wider for him to go deeper, and that strong back moving like a cat in heat. Shit, if it wasn’t for his determination and long nails he wouldn’t have grazed over his cervix letting out a heated cry that floated around the stalls flooding his ears.

He sounded so much like a woman.

His cheeks burned red, nipples erect and sensitive being exposed to the cool air of the room but also twitching under the slight heat that the magician had been blowing through his nose.

Illumi.

He thought of those eyes that hated him deep down.. how much the assassin despised him... how bad that Zoldyck wanted him dead. Not like any of them didn’t... He wanted to get closer to the Zoldyck. He wanted the other so fucking bad. Wanted them to be together. However he was Hisoka Morow. A damaged creature who many didn’t even consider human anymore. Even though Illumi had a downside Hisoka was judged, criticized, hated. Who could love him? No one.. that’s who.

He curled his fingers, his walls stretching even more while his nails dug into his soft squishy insides tapping his g-spot briefly before he cried out. A sweet sound despite who he was. His voice raising and octave and sounding to much like a pleasured woman. Shirt slipping from his clean white teeth as his hips jutted repeatedly, over and over again as he cummed. A milky cream spurting out, slipping through his strained fingers before he pulled them out slowly.

The cream falling onto the dirty stall floor beneath him as he basically scraped it out. He went limp for a second, lowering his legs; heels clicking against the hard dirty floor as his hands went to his sides. Head tilted back to let out puffs of air, he felt breathless as though he had been choked this whole time and only just now was let free. Oxygen filling his lungs once more as he came back down to earth.

He slowly tilted his head back up, head rolling a bit as though it suddenly weighed a hundred pounds. He stood, legs a bit shaky but not too back as he placed a hand on the wall, still wet and slimy but drying as well. He gave a light chuckle before dipping down to pull on the roll of toilet tissue wiping himself up from between his thighs getting rid of the residue. He tossed it in the toilet, which had still been a bit warm due to him sitting there for a while before he pulled up his underwear, which were a bright pink with lacy bottoms that looked absolutely beautiful against his skin tone.

He twisted around, groaning lightly as his muscles popped, flushing the toilet before pulling up his pants dusting them off. He opened the metal door and glanced down at the floor the held his orgasm but gave a simple shrug before walking over to the sink, heels clicking making a distinct noise considering it was much quieter in here. He approached the mirror looking over his body.

Slim waist, wide hips, and a gorgeous face. Now that’s not only a woman killer but a man’s as well. Not many people admitted it, none really, but had to give the magician props. He was attractive, in his own weird and disturbing way.

He gave a sigh and almost rubbed his fingers over his temples but remembered what he had just done. With a bit of a disgusted scoff he flipped on the water. He stared down at his hands, golden hues watching the pale skin get wet under the icy cold water without being bothered.

He should have known a place like this wouldn’t have any soap... or warm water. He perked a little thinking of how it was surprising for the stall to have toilet paper. It didn’t matter now though. He pulled his hands away going for paper towels only to notice there were none. His eyes narrowed and honestly for a second he felt like punching a hole through the wall..

With a shake of his head he sighed before remembering why he was at this place in the first idea. Illumi. They had decided to go out and talk about a plan concerning Gon and Killua.

“Hm.” He said quite simply as he walked over to the squeaky wooden door before pushing it open and stepping out immediately greeted with the colorful and loud room. He quickly found his way back over to the eldest Zoldyck who had been sitting alone, cherry vodka in hand as he placed his head on the other. A slight aura coming from him making Hisoka shiver just a little as he approached.

He climbed on to his stool sitting down, legs spread and hands in his lap as he went to say something playful only to get cut off by the wide eyed man.

“You were gone for a while you know. Were you taking a shit?” The assassin question tilting his head to look at the other, before moving the hand that held his head to his hair brushing the long thick strands behind his ear. Hisoka felt his eyes follow the movement but simply shook his head. He and Illumi were just coworkers... that wasn’t enough for him to tell him what he had done. Much less to tell him what he didn’t or did have in his pants.

“No, I would never do that in a place like this.” He spoke, voice smooth as freshly made chocolate before a chuckle rumbled in his chest. Now this time Illumi seemed mocked surprised as he looked at the golden eyed man before looking at his drink before gulping it down.

“Oh really? Well you couldn’t have been having sex. No one wants to fuck you.” He spoke quite bluntly like he always did. Never giving a second thought about someone else’s feelings except his own and Killua’s..

Hisoka felt a frown show up on his lips at the thought before he looked down at his glass of white wine. He laced his fingers around the stem of the glass before waving it around causing the liquid inside to rotate like a mini hurricane. Yeah he was bothered by the words but honestly couldn’t help but be jealous of the white haired boy. He had Gon, he had Illumi. Friends and family something he had to grow up without.

He nearly flinched as a memory from his past tried to slip into his mind before he fought it up. He learned to build a mental wall around those days. He didn’t want to talk about his childhood because well... he didn’t get to have one. Jack black eyes were now staring at him and had been for a while due to the silence between them.

“Clown-“

“I was simply checking people out to see if any had noticed us. Nothing much.” He spoke quickly noticing his silence. He looked away and Illumi nodded before glancing back over to the bartender calling him over wanting another drink.

“Even if they did they’d be too weak to fight.” He spoke not caring that Hisoka didn’t seem interested or focused in their conversations like he usually was. Illumi couldn’t say he didn’t like it though. He loved when Hisoka didn’t speak. It was almost like heaven on earth. What was even better was when he wasn’t around at all. He hated the constant flirts, stares, and touches. He hated it a lot.

If it wasn’t for the fact that he was a strong opponent he wouldn’t talk to him at all. To say the least, Illumi saw Hisoka as a toy and nothing but a toy.

“Refill.” The Zoldyck spoke in a strong tone that made the man quickly do as told before leaving to tend to another person. Hisoka wanted to leave, he was upset and annoyed now and being surrounded by this many people wasn’t a good idea. He stood catching the other’s attention who turned his head to him.

“Where are you going? I didn’t think we were finished talking.” Illumi inquired as he looked up at the man who didn’t look at him until a second later, he formed a charming smile before speaking stepping from the seat.

“Back to my motel room.” He stated and Illumi blinked, which could be extremely rare at times, before standing as well making Hisoka’s heartbeat speed up a little.

“Ah, then I’ll be going too. No need to stay if we’re done. We’ll talk tomorrow.” The man stated before gulping down the drink and sitting the glass down. Then he started walking not sparing Hisoka a second glance or waiting for him to leave so they could go together. No, he was just gone. Leaving the older man as though he was trash and as much as the pink haired man hated to admit it, he really did feel that way. He sighed and gulped down his wine before turning to leave stopping in his tracks as the bartender called out to him.

Curious he turned and the green haired man had offered him a rather large glass. For some reason he looked familiar but Hisoka didn’t ask as he held out his hand taking the glass with great care, careful to not drop it. He lifted a neat brow and the man gave a toothy grin and maybe it was the fact the Hisoka was already a little tipsy but he felt like this was a little off.

“It’s on the house.” The working man smiled. Hisoka looked at him before shrugging.

Careless.

He brought the rim of the glass to his mouth and chugged it, the lids of his eyes twitched at the unique flavor as he finished it off.

Mistakes.

He licked the inside of his mouth tasting the residue that had been left behind. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked up, his vision a bit shaky and he blinked a couple times. For every person he saw there were now two, along with the lights, chairs and tables. He usually didn’t get drunk but they had been there for a couple hours. It’s been a very long time since he’s felt this affected but that only meant he needed to get back sooner.

He’d hate to pass out in front of a bunch of people who clearly wanted him dead. With that thought he turned somehow managing not to tip over in his shiny crimson heels as he walked out the door. The cold winds surprised him a little, not like he wasn’t used to such weather now that he’s grown up and has had to live with it for years. His skin felt icy as he looked around, the moon had been out, shining in the sky along with a couple lampposts.

The loose strands of hair swaying with the breeze as he walked along the pavement. Not too many people had been out just some drunks who were way more wasted then he had felt like he was. He didn’t pay them any mind as they gave him some harsh predatory looks as he continued to walk.

Once he reached the motel room he dug around in his pockets locating the golden but rusty key. He leaned against the wall for support, was the aftermath getting stronger? He didn’t know, nor did he care at the moment as he pressed the key into the keyhole and twisted it hearing the loud click saying it had opened.

He twisted the doorknob and went it closing the door back with a bit of a slam as he walked over to his bed. The carpet floor had lines in it due to him dragging his heels flopping on the bed. He ended up staring at nothing, a couple things on his mind before darkness started to fill his vision.

That brat Killua.

Sweet innocent Gon.

Loveless and emotionless Illumi.

His fucked up past.

Him as a child.

[highfivecalum]

Our Home Place {CH} 13

sorry this took so long like literally a month i had no motivation to write it at all but!!! here we are :))) 

NATALIE FOUND IT HARD TO get out of bed for a few days, but honestly, after losing her mother who could blame her? She didn’t want to get out of the comfort of her warm bed and face the reality of her mother being gone. Forever. Calum, Allie, and Michael helped her when they could, when she wanted them to, but she preferred to be alone, and they understood. Calum stayed with her at her house, having his mother, Mali, or Luke watch Lily, but he stayed out of her way, slept on the couch if she wanted to sleep alone. He was there for her, even if she didn’t want him to be, he didn’t want to leave her alone.

She made a phone call to her grandmother who she hadn’t seen in a a few months and a lot of tears were shed during the call, but when she hung up she was feeling a bit better, feeling as if a weight was lifted off of her shoulders. Her grandmother told her she would call the rest of the family and take care of everything for the funeral and Natalie was relieved- she really did not want to go through that by herself. And her grandmother thought it was her duty to plan the funeral, not make her grandaughter do it.

The funeral came quicker than Natalie expected it to and the morning of Calum let himself into her bedroom to make sure she was up and ready. She wasn’t. When Calum walked into her bedroom to see her curled in a ball under her duvet his heart broke a little more for her and he didn’t want to force her to get up, but he knew he had to. He knew that she had to face the day and get it over with no matter how much she didn’t want to.

Calum knew that the funeral would bring closure.

“Baby,” Calum mumbled and moved Natalie’s hair out of her face so he could see it. She was paler than usual and her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. “You have to get up. We’re going to be late.”

“Don’t wanna go,” Natalie muttered against her pillow.

“I know you don’t,” Calum sighed. “But you have to, Nat.”

Natalie reluctantly got out of bed after much convincing from Calum and showered and quickly got ready. She only put a tiny bit of eye makeup on since she knew she would end up crying it off anyway and dressed herself in a black dress with black tights and black heels. Switching from her large purse to a small black clutch and putting a light layer of lipgloss on, she was finally ready to go.

Natalie admired Calum in the black button down and black dress pants he had on, thinking that he looked extremely handsome, and even though the circumstances were bad, she couldn’t think of anything but jumping his bones right there. “You ready, love?” Calum held a hand out for her and she took it, lacing their fingers together.

Natalie locked the door behind her and followed Calum to his car. The drive was quiet, only the sound of sad music from the radio filling the car, and Natalie sighed heavily. Calum looked at her quickly and frowned at the empty look on her face. He took one hand off the wheel and took her hand in his to stop her from picking at her nail polish and nervously biting her nails.

“You nervous?”

“A little bit,” Natalie admitted. “I have to give a speech and I don’t think I’m ready for it.”

“You don’t have to, you know that, right? Don’t feel obligated to. Just because she’s your mother doesn’t mean that you have to.”

“I know, but I feel like I should.”

Calum nodded in understanding, knowing that it was hard for him himself to give a speech at his father’s funeral. He got choked up and could barely finish the first sentence and Mali had to take over for him. Calum knew that if Natalie got too choked up to do it, he would step in for her, even though he barely knew Michelle.

❋ ❋ ❋

Natalie’s grandmother was the first person to spot her and Calum when they arrived to the funeral home. Even though they were Catholic, they skipped the church bit and decided that just the funeral home would be best, and Natalie agreed with her grandmother on that, even if her aunts and uncles didn’t.

“Natalie, sweetie,” Natalie’s grandmother got her attention and the corner of Natalie’s lips lifted up into the smallest of smiles, and even though it was small, Calum still saw it. And he had some hope that she would be better after the funeral. “Hi dear.” Her grandmother hugged her tight “How are you doing?”

Natalie shrugged. “I’ve been better. How are you?”

“Devastated, of course.” Her grandmother frowned, trying not to cry, but then noticed Calum and Natalie’s hands intertwined and she changed the subject to him. “Who is this?”

“I’m Calum,” Calum shook her hand. “Natalie’s boyfriend.”

They hadn’t established a real relationship, Calum hadn’t officially asked Natalie to be his girlfriend, but he thought introducing himself as her boyfriend would answer all of the questions he knew were swarming around in Natalie’s brain. This would make the relationship talk nonexistent and one less thing that Natalie would have to worry about.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Calum. I’m Betty, Natalie’s grandmother.” Betty smiled fondly at Calum before returning her attention to Natalie who was staring off into space like she had done in the car. Betty took Natalie’s free hand in her own and squeezed it, bringing Natalie back to life. “Are you ready for your speech dear?”

“Not really,” Natalie exhaled a nervous laugh and shook her head. Calum gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, reminding her that she didn’t have to do it, but she wanted to, she felt that in order to get through her mother’s death, she needed to do this. She also knew her grandmother would be upset if she didn’t. “But I’m going to do it.”

“Fantastic,” Betty gave both Calum and Natalie a quick hug before approaching the priest, who was a good friend of the families, and informing him they would get people seated and start the speeches soon. Natalie looked around for Allie and Michael, but there was no signs of them yet, but she knew they would be coming soon. There was no way they would miss her mother’s funeral.

Right before it was Natalie’s turn to give her speech, she felt a light squeeze to her arm and she turned around, finally seeing her two best friends. She let go of Calum’s hands and gave both Allie and Michael much needed hugs. “I’m so sorry we’re late,” Allie whispered in ear, not wanting to be rude and interrupt Natalie’s cousins speech. “We got stuck in traffic.”

“It’s fine,” Natalie assured her.

“Have you done your speech yet?”

Natalie nervously shook her head. “Mines next.”

“Next, we have Michelle’s daughter, Natalie,” The priest spoke up and Natalie’s stomach was filled with more butterflies than she thought possible. She was not prepared for this. “Natalie, if you would come up here, please.”

Calum, Allie, and Michael all gave her words of encouragement before wishing her good luck and watching her take the stand. She wrung her fingers together nervously and cleared her throat. Looking at the couple dozens of people in front of her, she swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Uh, thank you everybody for coming today,” Natalie’s voice was quiet, but she didn’t care. “It means a lot to me and my family and I’m sure it would have meant a lot to my mother.” She bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling, but that was a struggle for when she was speaking about her dead mother. She opened her mouth and closed it repeatedly like a fish out of water and nervously looked at Calum. “I, uh- I,” Natalie shook her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

She quickly walked away, leaving the crowd of people to look around in confusion, and Calum quickly followed behind her. He followed the sound of Natalie’s heels clicking against the tile floor, making the empty hallway of the funeral home echo, and he didn’t care that she was going into the ladies bathroom, he continued to follow her.

Natalie dropped to her knees in front of the toilet and let the contents of her stomach, which wasn’t much, spill into the toilet. Calum gathered her hair in one hand and held it away from her face so no vomit would get in it and gently rubbed her back. She was retching and crying at the same time and couldn’t control the sobs leaving her body.

“You’re alright,” Calum pressed a light kiss to the back of her shoulder and helped her through it. Natalie coughed, hoping to get everything out of her throat and mouth, and finally flushed the toilet. Calum let her hair go as she let her body fall against the bathroom stall door.

“‘M sorry you had to witness that,” Natalie whispered. Her voice was weak due to the crying and the vomiting.

“Don’t be,” Calum wiped the tears off of her cheeks. “Do you feel any better?”

Natalie laughed sadly and shook her head. “No. I’m embarrassed that I just ran off like that.”

The ladies room door swung open and in walked a very panicked looking Allie. “Natalie!” Allie looked at her best friend with wide eyes and Natalie and Calum shared looks of confusion.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Y-You’re dad is here.”

Natalie’s throat dried at the mention of her absent father and Calum’s fists clenched. He had heard Natalie talk about her father before, about how he left her and her mother unexpectedly when she was just a teenager, and the thought of seeing him really set him off. He couldn’t imagine how Natalie was feeling.

“W-What? My dad? You’re sure it’s my dad?”

“Yeah, Nat, I could spot your dad out of a crowd and it’s him. I’m positive.”

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Calum blurted and Natalie shook her head.

“I-I don’t want to see him. Why is he here? How is he here?” Natalie spoke, not wanting answers for any of her questions, but needing to ask them. After all of these years, nearly ten, he just showed up? On the day of her mother’s funeral? How did he even know Michelle passed away? So many questions were floating through Natalie’s head she couldn’t think straight.

“Do you want me to tell him to leave?” Allie asked.

“No,” Calum stood up and straightened his jacket. “Stay here with her. I’ll tell him to leave.”

Calum was out of the bathroom before Natalie could stop him and Allie was sliding down on the floor next to her best friend. She rubbed her arms, trying to help calm her down and trying to convince her everything would be okay, but if her dad was involved nothing was okay.

❋ ❋ ❋

It didn’t take long for Calum to figure out which man was Kevin, Natalie’s dad. He was standing by the door by himself, in a pair of jeans a t-shirt, while everyone looked at him and whispered. Calum stalked over to him and Natalie’s dad looked at him in confusion.

“What are you doing here?”

“Who are you?” Natalie’s dad narrowed his eyes at Calum.

“Natalie’s boyfriend. What are you doing here?” Calum repeated himself. He wasn’t trying to mess around, he was trying to get the man who left his daughter the hell out of here before Natalie could see him or he could see Natalie. She didn’t need this drama on the day of her mother’s funeral.

“I came to see my daughter.”

Calum let out a bitter and humorless laugh. “Really? Came to see your daughter that you up and left ten years ago?” Calum challenged. “She doesn’t want to see you, so you should just go. It shouldn’t be hard for you to leave.”

“I never stopped loving her,” Kevin confessed, completely ignoring everything Calum had just said to him. “She’s my daughter and I know I left, I know I broke her and her mothers hearts, but I have thought about her everyday since,” Kevin shook his head frustratedly. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. You’re not a father.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Calum corrected the man in front of him. “I am a father,” Calum showed Kevin his phone screen; a photo of Lily and Natalie together just a few days before Lily’s birthday. “That’s my five year old daughter with your daughter,” Calum smiled at the picture, but knew he couldn’t get caught up on the cute sight because he knew he had to give this man a piece of his mind. “And not once has a thought of leaving, leaving my daughter ever crossed my mind. She makes my world worth living. So you and I must have completely different definitions of what a father is.”

“You don’t-“

“I think you’ve said enough.” Calum cut him off. “Natalie’s been through enough, her heart is broken with the loss of Michelle and she sure as hell doesn’t need you here to try and mend it after all the years of being absent.” Calum wanted to punch the sad excuse of a father Natalie had, but it was a funeral, and he respected Natalie too much to do so without her permission, so he wasn’t going to. “Natalie doesn’t want you here, she doesn’t want to see you, so you need to leave.”

And Kevin did. He left without a word to his daughter that he abandon. Calum angrily walked away, catching Betty’s eyes and the thank you she mouthed to him. He made his way back into the bathroom to find Allie and Natalie sitting in the same spot he left them in. “Is he gone?” Natalie asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Calum nodded his head and helped both of the girls up. He wrapped his arms around Natalie’s waist and pulled her into his chest. “He’s gone.”

“Good,” Natalie exhaled a relieved sigh. She felt no pain about it. She wanted to be upset about her father being able to leave so easily, just as easy as he once did before, but the only pain she could feel was the loss of her mother and that overpowered the pain of her father trying to make his way back into her life.

❋ ❋ ❋

Taglist: @mariellelovescupcakes-blog @mermaid-merrick @cliffordcntrl @wrappedaroundcal @rexorangecouny @bbylonxcal @poppedpins @ashton-ma-bestfriend @calumsbabydolll @boytoynamedcalum @sisterawesome-blog @fangirlingovereverything @calistajs @checkeredcalum @thebodaciouscth @escap0-with-me @musicsavedme-00 @5saucewho @kaxseychill @crystalisinfinite @it-was-a-lie @littlemessage-tries @calistheloml @xx-cuddlemecalum-xx @calumismyzaddyyyy @forggetablle @mysteriouslycali @booklove-2 @bookssandbands @royalestrellas @calumismyprince @uncrowned-cal @pattys-got-cakes @hopelessxcynic @grinchluke @astroashtonio @holidayhood @catchinqcalum @mistletoemichael @hollyjollyhood @irwinkitten @irwinvalentines @hereforlukescruff @dannisos @trustmeimawhalebiologist @calpalbby @hood-af @ (sorry if i missed anybody if i did plz lmk)

[justaramblingromantic]

Hello~~, hopping you had a wonderful holidays, I'd like ask RyoAli for the ship meme, if that's okay with you (and you're still accepting requests, that's it, hehe~), thank you so much in advance😊🤗

~ send me a ship and i’ll tell you who ~

Ello!! Happy holis to you, too! Sorry for the wait, and thanks for the ask! :)  

EiRin here

SouEri here

IshiNene here

RyoAli

curses like a sailor

He cusses with the spitting intensity and burning fervor of an unstoppable machine gun once he really gets going and he doesn’t care too much about what other people think about it, either, and neither does she. She smiles sweetly and easily beside him even when he’s deep in his ‘mad dog’ persona, even when the people around them flinch away with prejudice and cowering fear at his wild, rough-around-the-edges demeanor. They don’t know him like she does and it is amusing the way they label him even before trying to get to know what he is really like. But of course Ryou makes that hard too, with his fierce visage and unapproachable demeanor and that bored thousand yard stare (he is just sleepy as usual). She reaches up and pets him happily on the bicep in the aftermath of one of his episodes - he has emerged victorious, as always, ‘My Ryou is the cutest~’

does the chores voluntarily

Sometimes he looks at himself and wonders what the hell happened - he has become so domesticated it is horrifying. Once, she was nothing more than an irritating rich brat always getting in his way and causing no end of trouble for him, but these days, he has turned into a manservant, a butler, a bodyguard and a nanny rolled into one convenient package, loyally dedicated to the service of said aforementioned rich brat whose never-ending demands he can never quite seem to say ‘no’ to, and even when he does, she pesters him into doing whatever she wants, anyway. He trains his body even more aggressively as if to make up for that self-perceived weakness in character; but she is only all the more delighted with his strength and tag teams with her mother often to praise and tease him until he is flustered and harried and confused by their easy affection and familial warmth. Too late does he realize that they have caught and tamed him with their loving ways; now she bosses him around all the time and he comes to heel willingly like an faithful hound ready to fulfill her every desire. There is an innate, automatic compulsion for him to guard and take care of her that stumps him at first, but eventually he figures it all out -some bonds, once forged, are for life. 

wants to marry their bed

She has to be literally carried out of bed some mornings, all the while whining to have five more minutes of shuteye (it is never just five more minutes, that much he knows by now). She alternates between kicking her legs at him in childish pique and clinging to him for warmth, her grimacing face pushed into the crook of his neck and her eyes squeezed shut as she tries obstinately to resist all his attempts to wake her up, but he is unsympathetic and plants her upright like a turnip on the seat cover of the toilet bowl. Her toothbrush is pressed into her hand and a placidly delivered threat to put her in the shower stall next and switch on the cold water finally has her attention, and she pouts all the way through her morning ablutions. He does not even blink when her pajamas falls to the floor and she flounces out of the bathroom to find her change of clothes; he has seen her in skimpier swimsuits, and more importantly, must she always leave a mess everywhere she goes?  

gets awkward about romantic gestures

Perhaps it’s the fact that they grew up together, but the blithe exchange of casual, demonstrative gestures comes easily and naturally to them, long before they made things official. Even after that subtle change in relationship status, nothing seems too different or entirely new or something strange that either feel that they had to struggle to adjust to. Alice is even touchier than ever, gleefully groping Ryou in places she has always wanted to grope (she has unrestricted special VIP access now), and Ryou puts up with her amorous affection up till the point where he abruptly reaches his limit. His self-control snaps like a proverbial twig then and he drags her off to somewhere quiet so he can mark her back until her legs shake and her voice comes out of her in unsteady, uncontrollable gasps-

stays in the shower for what seems like hours

Ryou enjoys a long, hot shower after a hard, satisfying workout, the kind with temperatures high enough to peel skin.The shower facilities are equipped with state-of-the-art, high pressure, ionising spray jets that Alice has specifically custom ordered for him - supposedly, they have revitalizing and de-stressing effects and can also help to improve blood circulation, particularly effective for soothing sore muscles.They also have a private sauna which they use often, a standard practice derived from their years living in Scandinavia. It is one of the things that Ryou appreciates when it comes to Japan; how the bathing traditions here in this land of the East are so similar to those back home, in the far Nordic North. The Japanese don’t practice winter ice swimming with as much zeal, though, but Alice and Leonora are always in for a treat every end of the year, when Ryou and Soe gamely don snug swim trunks after a nice, long session in the sauna and brave the freezing winter conditions for a few invigorating laps in the freshwater mountain lake that borders the Nakiri winter lodge. 

would adopt a million cats if given the chance

She comes home with a box of squirming kittens one day, fat tears rolling down her puffy face and her reddened nose dribbling like a leaky faucet in reaction to the mewling felines in her arms. He cannot tell if her sorry appearance is due to being moved by the little strays’ sad, abandoned predicament or more due to the fact that the tiny mewling fluffballs are making her body go haywire in allergic reaction - probably a fair mix of both. ‘Ryou!’ she warbles his name with dramatic woe even as he is already rising from his seat and padding towards her. ‘Help; they were crying on the roadside and I couldn’t just leave th- achoo!!’

fixes stuff around the house / apartment

Alice is forbidden from fixing anything in the house, because more often than not, anything she attempts to save eventually ends up damaged beyond repair. Not that Ryou is exactly some miracle fix-it-all/DIY-er himself either; he does well enough when it comes to simple home repairs and improvements and is very knowledgeable with all the workings of his kitchen equipment, and most importantly, at least he hasn’t accidentally almost burned down the house…unlike a certain somebody whose name he shall refrain from mentioning. 

watches too many Disney movies

‘We’re like Beauty and the Beast,’ she tells him with a grin, and he just eyes her with his usual sleepy apathy, not even surprised by her random whimsy. ‘Do you know why? Because Beauty always saves Beast in the end!’ 

gets drunk off of champagne

She is the most ridiculous drunk person ever - one moment, she’s trying to pick a fight with a street post and the next she has somehow teleported across the road one block down, marching into the conbini for a random shopping binge. She runs off again, cackling into the night, while sticking him with the bill for her purchases and his face is deadpan as ever (his forehead is starting to twitch, though) as the convenience store worker blanches at his blandly murderous visage and nervously rings up the haphazard pile of candy, small mountain of junk food, as well as what looks like the conbini’s entire display of condoms even as the three other customers in queue behind him try not to gawk at the impressive hoard of prophylactics in flustered embarrassment. He catches up to her before she can get into any more trouble, herds her loudly singing self around several exposed manholes before she can dance and twirl right into them, scares off three different groups of hoodlums trying to pick her up (by then that look of pure homicide has been permanently etched onto his face, very convenient that) and manages to drag her troublesome behind home before she can pull another Houdini on him again. She throws herself into his arms when they’re in the backseat of the cab, and he is exasperated and pissed after an entire night of running after his ojou and putting up with her shenanigans; anyone would have taken one look at that dark scowl on his face, promptly do an about turn and run for the hills, but of course she climbs onto his lap instead and demands affection. ‘My Ryou is the best~!’ she brags to him looking like someone’s ridiculously proud grandma, and just like that, he feels his aggravation subside a little at her obvious recognition of his worth and ability. That special feeling is quick to disappear, however, when she reaches up to ruffle his hair and coos, ‘Who’s a good boy? My Ryou’s the goodest boy-” 

cries when the ASPCA commercials come on

She quivers and her eyes fill up like she’s going through an allergic episode again, and he fixes half his gaze on her in case she starts to swell up like previously. She does not puff up this time, but she’s…leaky, presumably a side effect of the short video they had been watching. He suffers through her sniffs, snorts and snuffles in silence - and he is very silent and very still, because she seems to have momentarily forgotten about his presence and he wants to keep it that way- but alas his good fortune does not last long. She turns to him with that piteous expression that reminds him very much of Leonora-san when she’s pouting with all her might at Soe-san, and Ryou feels something like doom encroach him at the familiar scenario. His stoic apathy falters before her mien of misery, and he wants to sigh in a very put upon manner. He opens his arms to her instead, and she shuffles into his side. ‘Ryou?’ ‘Yes, milady?’ ‘Let’s adopt a million cats.’ ‘…No.’ 

[itisbucky]

You [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

Hi! Sorry for disappearing. Guess who has her GCSEs this year. This song was all over my head for the last few days (more like months, no joke) so I just wanted to write something about it. I know this is short.

Summary: Your break-up with Bucky Barnes has been the only thing you could think of.

Warnings: Some uses of swear words. Kissing. It should be safe.

“See, this whole existence of ours, billion pieces, we are a tiny fragment of it. We literally don’t matter.” When you blurted out the words about your existence, Bucky Barnes looked at you and smiled. Your hair was all around your face and you the smile on your face was alive with the power of ten thousand flashlights. Your eyes, projecting your joy over talking about how small you were, were shining. Bucky was just grinning, one foot stretched, arms folded and he looked beautiful as ever. “It’s just a great randomness.”

“Well.” He said and frowned playfully. “If it’s like that I’m lucky I’m on planet Earth in 2018 to meet you and not somewhere else like… I don’t know. Mars?”

“Ah, you liar.” You said and pushed his shoulder, not being able to look him in the eye. Every time you were around him, your hands would start to shake, with your stomach falling upside down and the pressure near your heart. You knew he was flirting relentlessly with you but having to make the first move, that thought made you want to run away to another existence.

And you're a liar, at least all of your friends are

And so am I, just typically drowned in my car

Luckily, when the time came you knew it. You knew when you were supposed to kiss him because he was looking at you and he was so close and you just knew it. When he kissed you, you know he wasn’t just a liar. Being around him, thinking he would be just… rude. Being wrong never felt better.

 Well, it was all done now. That was three years ago and even though your break-up was a year away, it never felt like you were getting better. Hell, you were getting worse because being deprived of him after two years of him didn’t feel right. It was weird how it ended because when the big fight happened, that’s what your friend called your fight that led to your break-up, you didn’t see it coming. It was just he, leaving the room in the end.

 It’s my party

And I’ll cry till the end

 When one of your friends told you about the party, you know he would be there. The curse of dating one of your friends was you had to see him a lot, even after the break-up. Three days after you broke up you had to be at an event for the company.

 “So what is your escape strategy today? Do you need to charge your phone? Delivery coming? Your cat is choking on a piece of rubber?” Wanda sipped her drink and kept looking at her hand, which was playing with her hair.

 “I don’t have a cat.”

 “You might as well have one. You like cats.”

 “That is still not a strong enough argument.” You said before looking up and noticing one person missing. “Where is Bucky?”

 “I don’t know. He came, so he’s probably in the toilet or something.”

 “Okay. I’ll take something to drink.” You said with your mind focused on one thing.

 “Yeah. Definitely not going to look for him.” Wanda yelled behind you. You clasped your fists and exhaled. Yeah, of course, you were going to look for him but she wasn’t supposed to be that good at knowing you.

 After looking everywhere, there was only one place left to check. The balcony. It was January, in New York. You never thought we would be there.

 Of course, he was. You were just there, with your red velvet dress, looking and feeling so small and he was just a few steps in front of you, sitting on one of the chairs. He didn’t look happy.

 “Fuck.” He whispered and that’s when you noticed his red face and tears falling down his cheeks. It was the first time you’ve seen him cry and it felt so intimate. You knew you weren’t supposed to see that. Your first instinct was to go hug him because he was looking awfully vulnerable in the cold January air and he was just so big and his feelings were intimidating. You had to hold yourself back.

 “Sorry.” You closed the door quickly and avoided any confrontation because you were starting to cry and it was not fair. You remembered all the times you cried in front of him and how he tried his hardest to make you feel better and there you were because of a stupid break up.

 You must try harder,

Than kissing all of my friends, you

 Everything, even though you loved him still, led you to be the person you avoided being for years. You were holding grudges. You hoped it would make him feel something.

 That’s when you started to flirt people at parties. Anyone, you had a little liking of. Someone he knew. Some would respond. Most would. It was a great way of revenge for you. It was a way of making him feel bad. Who were you kidding? It only hurts you. You despised the feeling while also loving the awful weight of sadness in your chest because that’s what you deserved.

 And sometimes you would realise he didn’t care. Even if he did, he was great at hiding it.

 Yeah it takes a bit more than you

 When you saw him that way, it was just wrong. It was the first time you’ve seen him show emotions in months. You were moving with your emotions the whole year, not using your brain and for what? Breaking a heart. He must have been heartbroken. You knew you meant something to him

 You were feeling so stupid. Whatever the problem was you could’ve been there for him but you were stupidly just looking for a solution to satisfy you and break his heart.

  And you’re alive

At least as far as I can tell, you are

 You were thinking about how dead you felt at that moment because you were tired of all these games you played in your head. In lines of the satisfaction of hurting him and hurting yourself, you were becoming someone else.

“[Y/N]! Didn’t know you came.” Facing Steve Rogers was always joyful.

 “Steve Rogers, your voice is the voice of a nightingale.” You said, following with a relieved laughter. You could see yourself through a mirror, behind the huge man and you looked unfamiliar to yourself. It was you but she was clenching her fists, squeezing her shoulder and biting her lips at any chance she can. The person in front of you was tense.

 “I don’t know if I can handle this much love from you.” He patted you on the shoulder. He realised he didn’t look you in the face when he saw the tears on your cheeks. “Are you okay?” You just shook your head no.

 “I know how he feels. I know how you feel. I understand sincerity is scary but you can’t avoid how you feel with shaking your head or by sarcasm. You need to talk about it to yourself, to him.” He took a deep breath. “Did you think about what actually happened? I don’t think you did because Bucky didn’t either. Just give it a try.”

 “Thank you.” You mumbled and hugged it tightly before going into a quiet place for some time to think. You were already late.

 And so am I

You beat me down and then we’re back to my car

 You were amazing together. Every piece made for each other. That’s what your friends always said. Being a perfect couple of the friendship was, sadly, not so joyous as it sounded. Thinking about the struggle made you laugh because it was such a stupid thing to hate. Why would that be a problem?

 It was because every night out together turned into passive aggressive comments made, as you were both terrified to express anything. When you were out in Bucky’s red, vintage car, it was hours of piled up anger towards each other. It hurt like hell because fighting him was fighting the only person you could fall in love with. You were becoming toxic, slowly, internally and you didn’t want that because you loved him for who he is. You loved him at night when he sat next to you on the sofa and opened an episode of FRIENDS and that would be how you knew you were okay. You loved him when no one was around and he was analyzing every quote of the show like a high school English teacher.

 You didn’t want him to run out of those things.

 And it’s so ironic

How it’s only been a year

 And there came the fight. Exactly one year ago.

 You blamed him for his past actions even if you didn’t care.

 He blamed you for your perfectionism even if he didn’t care.

 You yelled for hours. To a point where you were crying hysterically and you had no voice.

 And he said the words.

 It’s not my fault,

That I fucked everybody here

 “Get out.”

 And that’s how it ended.

 Yeah it takes a bit more than you

 You wanted it to end now. A year was enough, more than enough.

 You rushed back through the hall without caring about how your hair looked. It looked awful but you were too determined to care. Your dress was wrinkled but you were too in love to care. You were in love with this man called Bucky Barnes and you were willing to tear your pride apart with your beautiful heels for his sake. You were willing to die for his sake.

 He was just a door away.

 He was only a step away.

 “Bucky?”

 And I say do you wanna dance? Do you wanna dance?

Do you wanna dance in the bar, at the back of the hall?

 Your tears were streaming down your face when you sat next to your lover, not minding your dress getting dirty. Your face was wet.

 When you kissed him and when you told him you loved him it was more sincere than any time ever.

 With your shoulder in his head, tired as hell, you knew there was a lot to resolve. At least he was there.

Tags: @buckisthatyou

[lokikingofasgardslover713]

Thor’ Warriors: Oneshot

Masterlist

Thor Odinson x Plus!Size Reader Ex -HYDRA Assassin

Warnings: Heartbreak, fluff, cuddling

A/N: Sorry for the crappy title! The reader has children with Captain America who died during the upcoming Avengers movie, they weren’t married but where lovers, sorry cruel I know, this takes place a little over a year after his death. Thor takes interest & it turns all cuddly & loving & disgustingly mushy. The story stops and picks up several years later with a SURPRISE!

Words: +1,700

Henry was born while on the run from the government for helping Bucky, while the youngest, the one Y/N argued to name Steven Grant Rogers, was born several months after his namesakes death. Honestly, both pregnancies where a surprise having been told numerous times HYDRA had ruined any chances of children, but here the large framed assassin sat, a widower.

The 2-year-old Y/H/C blue eyes, running after Uncle Bucky while little Grant, as she called him, slobbering on a toy on the blanket she shared with the little blue-eyed blonde, a year old & fighting sleep. The fall day warm for once to bring the kids out on the lawn of the compound to let them play & burn some energy.

“Nice day,” came the all too familiar voice of the king of Asgard as he stepped up to the blanket Y/N & Grant shared taking a seat next to the assassin that seemed at home with the little boy that was now getting up to chase after big brother.

“Bucky! You have incoming,” Y/N shouted out to the soldier that scooped the little boy up & took off with him, Henry losing interest when he spotted Thor & came running their way.

“Yes, it is a nice day, what are you doing… look out…,” Y/N warned, watching the toddler barley miss the family jewels as he flopped into the gods lap, large hands quick to grab the little creature & place him on his leg.

“Are you being good for your mother,” Thor began, the little boy shaking his head yes but Y/N shaking her head no.

“Does mom need a break,” he smiled over to Y/N who looked at the god puzzled to where this was going.

“I could always use a break,” she laughed, the toddler having his fill of the god & going after Bucky once more.

“Do you have a baby sitter then,” he asked quietly, it hadn’t gone unnoticed to Y/N that the past week the god had been friendlier than usual since he was spending more time on Midgard.

“What? for tonight,” laughed slightly, it had been so long since anyone had shown interest in Y/N, plus with kids, duties as an avenger, & why would a literal god like Thor take interest in an assassin when he had thousands of prettier women falling over themselves to be with him?

“Aye,” he responded with a sly smile that still made no sense to Y/N who looked quickly to the squealing boys that wallowed Bucky on the grass, then back to mismatched eyes that sparkled as they looked over her thick frame covered in yoga pants & long sleeve shirt.

“What for,” Y/N asked, just a dumbfounded as ever, locking gazes to smile nervously at him.

“I thought…. if you were comfortable with it… I would like to take you out to a quiet dinner where you didn’t have to stop anybody from throwing anything in the floor or smearing it on you would be relaxing, with me escorting you of course,” the god smirked watching the comprehension spread across Y/N’ face with a blush rising in her plump cheeks as mouth dropped open.

“Oh… OH! OH GOD! I'm so fucking rusty at this! Holy shit…. Umm… I …,” Y/N stammered & rambled like a teen making the god blush & watching his smile falter.

“It's ok I wasn’t sure if you were ready,” Thor began, Bucky starting past the two with the struggling boys one under each arm.

“For the love of god Y/N, you need a break & I don’t think Steve would be upset,” Bucky scolded the blushing assassin that finally met the gods gaze as Uncle Bucky carried the boys in.

“Um.. yeah, yeah I would like that, but I'm not sur who will watch the boys.. I mean…,” Y/N began nervously tugging at her long-sleeve, the god finally meeting excited yet nervous gaze.

“It's arranged, Tony helped, said you needed time away as well,” Thor smiled at the fact he had it planned out for her the woman entertained by the gods slyness.

 Oh god this was dating all over again, she & Steve didn’t date, it just…. happened. Nervously waiting for the god to show up at the entrance to the compound, Happy already waiting as the god finally made his appearance in a simple pair of dress slacks & polo that didn’t look bad on him. Y/N tugged at the t-shirt dress that hugged thick curves hopping she didn’t look to momish.

“It's fine, you look beautiful,” the god commented taking her arm in his to walk her to the car.

“Thank you, you're not bad looking yourself,” Y/N retorted, cursing internally at how stupid she sounded.

“I'm sorry, I’ve never dated, ever,” she admitted before they got into the back of the car, noting that despite wearing heels she still had to look up to Thor.

“Well technically neither have I, so shall we be terrible at this together,” he laughed helping Y/N to take a seat, getting in after  her & shutting the door as he got in.

“Well, it's comforting to know that the god of thunder isn’t as confident in Midgardian custom as I thought, because I for one am not, & I live here,” she chuckled as the car pulled away from the entrance.

It was hot, Y/N could feel sweat trickling down ample curves, hands falling to where the god rested up against her, trying to push Thor away with an exasperated huff & the head that laid on her stomach chuckling at her attempts.

“You're burning me up…,” Y/N whined, the assassin lacing nimble fingers in long golden locks that tickled bare stomach & refused to let him move away, strong arms wrapped around round buttocks that where clothed in the thinnest pare of underwear possible to keep from overheating.

“Yet you hold me tight dove,” he laughed, nuzzling at the soft skin before finally scooting up to be face to face with her, looking back behind her at a screen before looking back to the woman in his arms that refused to open Y/E/C eyes.

“What time is it,” she rasped, filling him settle in front of her laying hot forehead to hers.

“10.”

“Morning or…”

“Morning dove,” she could hear the smile in his voice, but it made her panic.

It was a school day, pushing up in the bed as fast as tired body would allow for Thor to pull her back to the mattress, sweaty back flush to clothed front arms tight around thick torso. The boys now 6 & 5 where going to be late for school.

“Henry & Grant, there late for…..,” she panicked, trying to pry out of the gods grasp, realizing it looked that he had already been up for some time.

“I’ve already gotten them ready & I may add taken them to school, so you could rest. They’re getting closer,” Thor admitted & hinted to the clear screen that showed a readout with a female body, displaying heartbeat, O2 levels among the vitals of the little girl that had stilled & was in position.

“I know, few more hours,” Y/N admitted, watching the spikes get higher with another contraction, this one bigger stronger, but thanks to HYDRA she didn’t feel it like she should, nor bothered by having the baby’s father hugged tight, nuzzling at the nape of sweaty neck.

“Are you sure you aren’t hurting,” he worried kissing the shell of her ear calloused hand rubbing over protruding belly as she rolled to her back to look at him with a smile.

“No, same with the boys, just I didn’t carry them to 9 months they were born in 6 because of the serum that we had running through our systems. This is your fault by the way, 9 months Thor really,” Y/N smiled at the god that propped up to smirk at her.

“Well, Asgardians mature slower than others,” he smiled pecking her lips before helping her to sit up, “& you asked me to if I recall it correctly.”

“I didn’t ask, more like, whoops,” Y/N laughed the god gently helping her to stand, though she didn’t put on a lot of weight on, it was still awkward with a growing…. Warrior princess as Thor called the little girl that Y/N carried.

“Why don’t you make some, well lunch now, or there is left overs,” Y/N questions as she made it to the bathroom, shooing the god off to the kitchenette.

“Should you eat before…,” Thor began, before leaving Y/N to do what was needed.

“Normal people no, but I'm not normal & would like a little something before she gets here,” Y/N admitted, making her way to the toilet to empty squished bladder.

The smell of bacon hitting her senses as she steeped out into the bedroom to make her way out & to the small kitchenette. Y/N backing up to the counter to hop up on it to sit next to the stove to watch Thor, but the god was quick to grab thick hips & place her delicately on the surface.

“You don’t know how to take it easy do you? In a few hours we are going to meet our little warrior & you're hopping around all over the place,” he laughed up at her, stealing a kiss before going back to the eggs that were now in the pan.

“No I don’t, because I went into labor with Henry when we were in a firefight with some bad guys. Natasha had to help me deliver him on the battle field because we were pinned down & Grant was delivered by Tony who kept commenting Steve would have killed him if he knew he seen me like that,” Y/N laughed, watching Thor plate the food but stopping to come stand between thick thighs, taking note panties where gone, she had to be closer if….

“And…. my water broke when I went to pee,” Y/N smiled watching Thor turn into an excited puppy.

“Then let’s get you to med bay to meet our little warrior shall we,” he smiled, pulling Y/N into strong arms to carry her to the med bay.

“I can walk,” Y/N laughed as they stepped out of the room they shared at the compound.

“I know, but MY queen should reserve her strength to get our princess here,” Thor spoke gently, taking moderate but long strides to get them to where they were needed so he wasn’t delivering a baby in the hallway.

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@whovianwookie86-captainxev@jazzieomega

[eirabach]

Coming Home [1/1]

This is 7000 words of love letter to the England football team, and specifically their manager, thinly disguised as CS fic. Gorgeous aesthetic by the incredible @katie-dub who joins me as an inaugural member of the Inappropriate Gareth Southgate Crush fan club.

No matter what happens tomorrow, lads. No matter what.

They’d all laughed when they’d given him the job.

 Years of the finest tacticians the continent could offer - though admittedly there’d been a few turkeys along the way - and the British press had torn each of them to shreds. Failure after failure dropped at their feet, their careers blighted by the inevitable English Curse while their players sold razor blades and fucked pop stars and pocketed their millions and all the time being watched by a nation of children who grew into adults, grew into old men and women who’d never seen an English success story.

 No one wanted to sip from that poisoned chalice. No one dared face the fury of a nation denied again and again and again.

 Luckily, Killian Jones was used to it.

 The Sun, The Mirror, the broadsheets. They’d all sneered at his appointment in their own indomitable ways.

 England Expects… Second Time Lucky For Jones?

 FA Appoint Jones: England’s Sacrificial Lamb

 The Curse Continues for England’s Lost Boys

 Need a Hand There Mate?

 This last accompanied by a pap’s photo of him struggling into training one morning, hair askew, prosthetic unattached.

 (It had been Milah’s birthday the night before, his dreams full of fire and fuelled by rum, and Will had sent him up to the boardroom twenty minutes in when he’d threatened to have the bickering midfield strung up by their ankles and used for penalty practice.)

 He knows there’s no point complaining, nonetheless. It’s not the worst headline they’ve run about England’s manager.

 It’s certainly not the worst headline they’ve run about him.

There is one difference in his appointment to this supposedly sainted position:

 They all agree. Left wing, right wing. Man in the street and professional pundit.

 He’s doomed.

 “You’re doomed, little brother,,” Liam tells him cheerfully as he eats his breakfast propped up against the quartz worktop that Killian knows the Navy didn’t pay for. “Sorry.”

 “Your confidence astounds me.”

 “Your idiocy astounds me! What was the matter with punditry? I thought you enjoyed it! It paid the bills -“

 “I don’t care about the bills.”

 “Spoken like a man who doesn’t worry about next months nursery fees - Killian listen -“ Liam puts down his bowl and leans forward, pleading. “they’ll tear you apart. Don’t - I don’t want to watch that again.”

 “I won’t do any more pizza adverts if that’s what you’re worried about,” Killian grumbles, snatching the bowl and rinsing it immediately.

 “Have you forgotten what it was like?” Liam asks, aghast. “They crucified you, little brother, the shame -“

 “You don’t need to tell me about shame,” Killian snaps. “As for forgetting - I’ve spent twenty years -“

 “Pretending! Pretending that you’re a drunk and a womaniser and that you didn’t - don’t - care but Killian -“

 “Get out.” The words are ice, the warm kitchen physically cooling in their wake. Liam looks briefly shocked.

 “Pardon?”

 “You heard me,” Killian grits out. “I’ve enough to deal with from the press I don’t need my own brother -“

 “I’m trying to protect you!”

 Oh, he knows. He’s always known.

 Six years old, newly motherless and utterly rudderless, ferried to practice on the cross bar of Liam’s bike.

 Eighteen and capped for his country, hyperventilating in a public toilet while Liam guarded the door.

 Twenty and certain, oh so certain, standing at the spot and Liam watching from the touchline.

 Oh so certain and oh so wrong.

 And he knows, but he has to because this - this is his chance. His last, only chance.

 He has to lay the ghosts to rest. He has to.

 And he can’t let anything, not even Liam, not even his own inability to believe - to dream - stop him.

 “I don’t need your protection!” Killian spits. “I’m done, Liam! I’m not that little kid you scolded for risky tackling anymore! I’ve lived under this shadow half my life! I need to move on. I need -“

 I need to believe. I need you to believe in me.

 “You need a better team,” Liam says, “tell me you’ve that, at least.”

 “Oh aye.” Killian calms, smug satisfaction slipping into his voice. “That, I can promise you.”

 —-

 Qualifying, and judging by Liam’s expletive strewn text when the teamsheet is announced he’s starting as the tabloids expect.

 Badly.

 I know several promising four year olds, brother, should I send them over?

 Mills?! He’s a fetus, Killian.

 A fetus who can play.

 You’d better hope so, brother. The whole bloody country hopes so.

 Mills might be the youngest player on the pitch - 18 and a pale but determined figure in the goal mouth - but the whole team is Killian’s own creation.

 Gone are the men who’d bickered and sneered at each other. Gone are those who saw playing for their country as a chore - one they’d rather avoid when the off season is full of better financial offers - and those too exhausted by failure to dare to dream of success.

 Killian has been one of them, once. Late at night, the back pages spread out around him in his empty house and the rum bottle far too close by, he thinks he still might be. But then he sees the gleam in the eyes of a player like Mills and he thinks enough.

 Enough.

 It’s time.

 Shame no one told the opposition. Or the ref.

 It’s another high tackle, studs up as England make a break for goal, and once again the ref waves it off with an indirect free kick.

 The crowd bellow their displeasure but they’ve nothing on Will, whose furious gesticulating at the touchline makes him look like some sort of tracksuit clad dervish.

 “That’s a red!” he bellows. “A RED!”

 Except it isn’t. It’s a free kick that the opposition defence clear from danger a little too easily. Again.

 A nasty, creeping sense of foreboding tickles at the back of Killian’s neck as the cameras focus on his face and the hacks start writing.

 He doesn’t believe in curses.

 He doesn’t.

 “Sit down, Will. You’ll rupture and the Sun will have your innards. Literally.”

 “You’re not serious, gaffer? Didn’t you see -“

 Killian grits his teeth.

 “Sit down. They’re watching.”

 Will stamps back to his seat, face creased in fury.

 “They’re always bloody watching, gaffer. That’s their bloody job. Ref need to do his.”

 “Don’t you worry about the ref’s job,” Killian says grimly, eyes on the way midfield can’t quite connect their passes, mind already on the talk he’ll have to give at half time.

 Calm. Collected. Everything he hasn’t been for longer than he likes to think.

 (Once he had been. Before the penalty spot. Before Milah and the drink and the accident. Once. He’s sure he was.)

 “Worry about ours.”

 —-

 They’d all laughed when they’d given her the job.

 Laughed and crowed and cat called their way through her first press conference that absolutely had to be held because she’s the first and she’s important.

 She’d always imagined it would feel better than this.

 David sits on the end of her futon, half a pizza balanced precariously on his knee as he bounces his leg. A nervous tick he’s had since childhood, and he’s never more nervous than when he risks Emma’s wrath.

 “I’m just not sure this is a good idea, Emma.”

 “Really? Money is a bad idea now?” Emma chews on her own piece of pizza and shrugs. “Could have fooled me.”

 “It’s not about the money. You know what soccer fans are like!”

 “Well I should,” Emma agrees, “I’ve been one all my life.”

 “Yeah, and look at the grief you got even then! And Russia. It’s a different world, Emma.”

 “I’m pretty sure it isn't. And I can handle myself. I’ve done it long enough.”

 David’s face falls and she regrets the sharpness almost immediately, but she can’t quite bring herself to apologise, or to admit the truth.

 Frankly, she’s terrified.

 Emma is used to being on her own, abandoned at birth and bounced around the foster system until she’d finally ended up with David and his mother and had to learn how to function as part of a family.

 It’d been hard, even now she’s sure she isn’t as good a sister - as good a person - as she ought to be, but soccer had helped.

 Soccer had always helped. Soccer was all she’d had.

 Playing, supporting, being a part of something, no matter how small and shitty the team or how little time she spent there it had taught her how to work with others, relate to them, when the temptation had been to run away and rely on her own wits.

 Not that there hadn’t been moments, bad homes and tempting offers from worse boys, but soccer had kept her feet on the ground.

 Now her playing days are over - the disadvantage of her permanent home had been that the women’s game was not wildly popular in Podunk Storybrooke, Maine - and yet.

 And yet.

 She’d taken her refereeing qualifications to keep her eye in, starting with the kids matches and then moving up, up to college level, up to the leagues.

 Up to the World Cup.

 The first woman referee in the history of the competition.

 The American papers hadn’t taken too much notice, the USA had failed to qualify and the country as a whole preferred their football to contain more brute force than finesse, but Europe -

 She wishes David hadn’t read the comments.

 She wishes she hadn’t read the comments.

 But he did and she has and still. She’s going. She has to.

 “I have to,” she tells him, trying for reassuring and catching his pizza slice as it makes a bid for freedom. “You know I have to.”

 David smiles.

 “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I know. But don’t let them mess you about. You’re the best. Don’t forget that.”

 Emma smiles. Small and a little sly.

 “Oh I promise. They won’t know what hit them.”

 —-

 They’re through by the skin of their teeth, paparazzi nipping at their heels as they arrive in Russia in neatly tailored suits that don’t show the sweat stains. Mills’ suit trousers are two inches too short and the team surround him as they scurry through the airport to the waiting team bus like so many elephants protecting the baby of the herd from the gathering hyenas.

 Which, Killian supposed, they more or less were.

 Qualifying hadn’t made the press back off. Qualifying had made the press hungry.

 “Jones! Jones! How are you feeling?”

 “Any regrets?”

 “Is this England’s year?”

 “Are you worried about penalties?”

 “What about the curse?”

 Killian lifts his chin, marching onward to the bus without giving the press anything but the small, polite wave that he knows is obligatory and keeping his glare for the moment their out of sight.

 “Bunch of tossers,” says Will cheerfully, his arm slung over Mills’ shoulder. “Better keep ‘em sweet eh lads?”

 The lads cheer, and Will guffaws in approval, but Killian is miles away. Decades away.

 Wearing his own suit and the weight of expectation hanging round his neck and -

 It’s coming home, it’s coming…

 “Gaffer?”

 They’re at the bus and Will is looking at him through too shrewd eyes. There’s a reason Killian picked him as his number two, after all. Liam worries and the papers speculate, but Will? Will knows.

 “All right?”

 “Ask me in a month,” Killian mutters grimly, then boards the bus with a studied grin and a bellow of “Here we go, lads! Here we go!”

 —-

 Here we go, Emma thinks, handing in her credentials to an incredulous Russian official. Here we goddamn go.

 The official calls over a couple of his pals who all mutter uncertainly amongst themselves, before finally stamping card and handing over her ID with a suspicious glare and minimal manners.

 That the officials are confused by her presence is surprising in that they invited her - and it isn’t like Emma Swan is a particularly gender neutral name - but the teams, well.

 Confusion would be a blessing.

 Her language skills are pretty basic - she barely scraped her GED and most of her high school Spanish lessons were spent searching the dictionaries for words to keep an amorous temporary sibling at bay - but she doesn’t need google translate to get the jist of their opinions.

 And they do seem to have a lot of them. And none of them are good.

 “I just don’t see what you being a woman has to do with…” Mary Margaret gesticulates weakly to the pocket of Emma’s uniform when she returns to the hotel room “that.”

 “When I pull a card, it’s touched my boob,” Emma says, eyes already scanning the fixture list she’s been given. “Apparently that excites them.”

 “But they have to respect you, surely?” Mary Margaret is wide eyed on the bed, and Emma feels a rush of affection for her sweet natured sister in law. Affection, and a touch of pity. “You’re the referee!”

 “Because soccer players are so famous for their respect for the laws of the game? Didn’t you see Neymar in qualifying? He spent so much of the match on the floor Gaston went to make a cup of coffee before resuming play.”

 “You know I don’t understand anything you just said, right?” Mary Margaret leans forward and squeezes Emma’s leg. “But I have faith. You’re brilliant, Emma. I believe in you.”

 “Thanks.” Emma smiles at her. “But it’s fine. They’ll get used to me I guess.”

 Mary Margaret raises her eyebrows.

 “You’re a trailblazer Emma, you know that? I’m so proud of you.”

 Emma shrugs, picking at the edge of her shirt. It’s too big, but that’s not unusual. At least she hasn’t had to fashion a belt from her whistle strap this time.

 “It’s just a job, Mary Margaret.”

 “Is it?”

 Emma bites her lip.

 “All right,” she admits. “It’s a big deal. The biggest. What if I fuck up? Make the wrong call? I could fuck the whole thing over - the cup, myself, fucking feminism, the lot - I-“

 “Who’s fucking what up now?”

 David sticks his head around the door, eyes narrowed and full cop-face on display. Emma licks her suddenly dry lips and shrugs again. Mary Margaret sighs.

 “Emma’s having a crisis of confidence.”

 “Am not.”

 “Emma -“

 “Hey.” He pulls her into his arms, cradling her head in his hand and she burrows her chin into his shoulder without even meaning to. “It’s ok to be nervous. If you weren’t nervous you wouldn’t care. And you care so much Emma. You love this game. You were made for this.”

 “Tell the papers that.”

 “Oh screw the papers!” David snaps, “what the fuck do they know!”

 Mary Margaret gasps. “David!”

 David pulls back from the hug and grips Emma’s shoulders.

 “They’ll write whatever they want,” he says fiercely. “You should see the shit they write about their own countries! Forget them. You can do this. You’re good - no, you’re the best. They’ll be clammering to have you in charge of their games you’ll see.”

 “That’s not really how it works.”

 “That’s not really my point.”

 Emma laughs, a little softly but genuinely enough, and shakes her head.

 “Do you give these pep talks to everyone or?”

 David grins.

 “Just my favourites.”

 —-

 Watching the competition might be necessary, but Killian’s never found it very relaxing.

 It’s a constant stream of analysis, of tactics, of how do we and what if they, and it’s exhausting. Especially scrappy, messy games like this where the players seem to spend more time arguing than concentrating on the play.

 Both sides are particularly keen to share their sob stories with the ref, arms flailing and spittle flying, and that’s not usual, nor at all, but the ref -

 The ref is.

 He’d known she was here, of course. Even in avoiding the press as much as he tries to, things like the first woman to referee a World Cup game do tend to sneak through, and he can’t help but feel a frisson of pride when he sees her step up to call the coin toss. A sense that the game that he’s dedicated his life to might - just might - be beginning to move towards something better and brighter.

 “At least we’re group favourites,” mumbles Will as Portugal create a chance from nothing (how do you defend nothing? Where do you even begin?) “Or second favourites.”

 Killian rolls his eyes. He’s long since stopped relying on betting shops for his predictions.

 “We went out last time to a dentist and a guy who runs a doggy day care, or did you forget?”

 Will winces. “That was different.”

 “That was the Euros. This is bigger.”

 Will gives him a sideways look.

 “All right, spill,” he asks. “What’s got your goat? You’re a miserable fuck right enough but you’re even worse than usual.”

 Killian doesn’t even look at him. “And you’re charming as ever.”

 “Jones.”

 “Scarlet.”

 “I've got a feeling,” Will says, and Killian closes his eyes briefly. Scarlet once he gets going is like a dog with a bone, and it’s useful in training certainly but rather less helpful when directed at Killian personally.

 “Just the one?”

 “Oi. Listen.” The sideways look becomes a full on glare. “Have you been on twitter again?”

 Killian shakes his head.

 “I don’t -“

 “Because Liam says -“

 Liam says a lot of things. Says them on phones calls and on WhatsApp and in Killian’s head at the side of the training pitch and in the dead of night.

 None of which he wants to think about when he’s watching Ronaldo systematically destroy a defence.

 “Oh you’ve been gossiping about me with my brother? Very loyal of you Scarlet. I’ll remember that next time I find you with your head in the toilet.”

 “No we was just -“

 There’s a roar from the crowd, a huddle of players surrounding the ref who’s barely even visible among the sea of waving arms gesturing in her direction.

 “Christ! Look at that!”

 It happens in less time than it takes Will to point, one moment the referee is standing in the centre of what’s become a mob, the next she’s on the ground, struggling to her feet.

 A flash of red and there’s a man off and a spreading mark on the side of the ref’s face.

 “He’s banned,” Will states grimly. “Won’t see him again this year. Stupid mistake.”

 “Mistake?” Killian scowls. “Bringing the game into disrepute!”

 “Yeah, well.” The ref blows her whistle. Play resumes with several players looking rather shamefaced. “Let’s see how that works out for them.”

 —-

 It doesn’t.

 The final whistle sees the ten men traipse miserably from the field while their opponents celebrate with a lap of honour.

 The ref follows them off. The mark on her face has faded but even from where Killian sits in the box he can see the set of her shoulders, the anger in her gait.

 He’s walked off like that. Worse than that. He’d had Liam and Rob - poor long suffering Rob who’d held this job longer than any other man had managed - but the ref…

 He hopes she has someone waiting for her in the tunnel.

 He hopes.

 He gets to his feet.

 Hope isn’t enough. It never is.

 “Where are you going?!” Will calls after him as he heads for the staircase. “You promised me a drink!”

 “I need to go check on something.”

 Will laughs, wagging his finger after Killian as though he’s a naughty schoolboy.

 “Something. Sure. Have fun with something. Don’t get us disqualified, yeah?”

 Killian doesn’t turn back.

 “Don’t be crass, Scarlet.”

 “Don’t be changing the habits of a lifetime, Jones,” Will trills. “Tell her she made the right call on that penalty, yeah?”

 “Yeah yeah,” Killian mutters. No point in denial. “I will.”

 —-

 He means to.

 But then he finds her at the end of the tunnel, leaning against the wall next to what appear to be a storage cupboard with a poorly scrawled female figure sellotaped to it. Her fists are clenched and her breathing laboured, and for the first time in his whole life he can’t quite bring himself to talk about football.

 She’s beautiful. He really tries not to notice, but he’s not blind. Furious green eyes and a wild halo of blonde hair from where it’s escaped from it’s ponytail, a sharp chin that juts in his direction as she snaps, “What?”

 His heart jumps in a way it hasn’t for decades - not since his playing days, not since Milah - and it’s stupid because he’s forty and he has a reputation but his tongue feels too big for his mouth, his legs unsteady in the face of her flushed cheeks and steely glare.

 He came to say something, didn’t he? He’s sure he was meant to say something.

 “You ok pal?” She pushes back from the wall, hands on her hips. “You lost?”

 Something like that, he thinks. Something very like that.

 “He shouldn’t have done that,” he manages. “It was disrespectful.”

 She scoffs. “What, cause I’m a woman?”

 “No. Because you’re the ref.”

 “Don’t condone dissent huh?” She narrows her eyes. “You’re Jones.”

 “I see you’ve heard of me.” He grins, and it pulls a little at the corner of his mouth as though it’s wider than usual. “You can look up my discipline record if you like, I was a fairly good boy.”

 She lifts one eyebrow and scoffs again, but there’s a smile threatening at the edge of her mouth.

 “On the pitch maybe.”

 “Maybe.” Mostly. But he knows what she’s referring to. There’d been a lot of rum, after. A lot of regrets. He’s never regretted them quite as much as he does now though. “Are you quite all right, though? Truly?”

 “I’m fine.” She shrugs. “I mean - I’ve had worse.”

 He bets she has. The thought doesn’t comfort him any more than he expects it comforts her.

 “Not quite what I asked, Swan.”

 “How do you know my name?”

 Smooth, Jones. Very smooth. Follow a woman into a dark corridor and then act like a stalker.

 “I read,” he says in an attempt at justification. “There aren’t many refs who go by “Emma””

 “Not here there aren’t. I uh -“ she waves in the direction of the cupboard. “Ought to get to my locker room.”

 It’s his turn to scoff now.

 He loves this game, he does, but by god does it have a long way to go.

 “A generous term, but as it’s yours I’ll allow it. See you around, Swan.”

 “Belgium,” she says, and her expression turns surprised as though the word has escaped without her permission.

 “Pardon?”

 “I’m assisting. At the Belgium game. So I’ll see you there. At Belgium.”

 Oh yes. Football. The most important thing in his life. The only thing.

 She smiles, and something in his chest roars to life.

 Belgium. He’ll see her at Belgium.

 “I look forward to it.”

 —-

 The canteen is a riot of colour and languages, hundreds of people swarming through with plates of food Emma couldn’t name with a gun to her head and jostling for space at long tables.

 The three of them pause in the doorway, all looking for a spot where they can sit together. Emma sees it first.

 “Dibs!” she calls. “Mary Margaret?”

 “On it!” She calls in return, heading for the snaking line at the food counters as Emma and David bolt for the free seats.

 It’s only when she gets closer that Emma realises who’s sitting opposite, handsome profile partially obscured by a tactical notebook.

 David’s eyes narrow then grow large and round as saucers.

 “Isn’t that..?”

 “Swan!” Killian Jones beams at her and her traitorous heart skips a beat. “Excellent job in the Croatia game last night!”

 “Thanks,” she mumbles, and god if she’s blushing David will never let her live it down. “It was a good game.”

 “The best,” Killian agrees, then his eyes flick from hers to David and the megawatt smile dims ever so slightly. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

 “Oh!” Emma gestures between them. “This is my brother, David. This is -“

 “Killian Jones,” David says, and Emma does a double take at the breathiness of his tone. “I know who you are.”

 “My reputation precedes me,” says Killian. “I’d ask if it were all good but, alas -“

 “You were the best left winger of your generation! Your pace! There was nothing you couldn’t outrun!”

 Emma watches with interest as Killian’s cheeks flush pink.

 “Nothing but time and bad choices, at least.”

 David shuffles on the spot, “I guess, but -“

 “Meatballs!” Mary Margaret drops the tray in the table with a cheerful smile. “Everyone loves meatballs, right?”

 “Works for me,” says Emma. “Killian?”

 “Metabolism isn’t up to it these days,” he says, patting the leather waistcoat that’s his calling card in the technical area.

 Emma shrugs. “Suit yourself. Doesn’t look like there’s much wrong with you to me.”

 The words are out before she can stop them, fucking so smooth, Emma, Jesus, but Killian Jones just looks a little bit sad.

 She’d expected an innuendo.

 She’d have preferred an innuendo.

 “I assure you, there’s nothing at all wrong with me. Well.” He lifts his left hand and smiles wearily.  “Apart from the obvious.”

 “Oh dear!” Mary Margaret leans over the table and rests her hand over the metal contraption at the end of his wrist. “I’m so sorry.”

 “Don’t be,” says Killian, but there’s a furtive look in his eyes that Emma is familiar with. She gets the same look in hers when someone asks about her family. The look that means you’re preparing a lie. “An old wound.”

 And doesn’t she know how they never quite heal.

 “David,” she says, a little too sharply, “Have you sorted the flights to Sochi yet?”

 “No I was going to -“

 “The agent is holding a meeting this afternoon - if you get there early enough maybe they can get you priority seats?”

 “But -“

 Mary Margaret is looking between Emma and Killian with a look of gradually dawning comprehension.

 “Good idea,” she says, “come on David.”

 “But -“

 “We can get a doggy bag, I don’t want to risk missing the flight -“

 She grins at Emma over David’s shoulder as she leads him away, two plates of meatballs balanced in her arms, and wriggles her eyebrows.

 Subtle, thinks Emma. But then Killian Jones is sitting opposite her at the canteen table, lips curled into a smile and eyes fixed on hers, and she thinks.

 Maybe subtlety is overrated.

 —-

 He appreciates that Emma is not staring at his left hand, in fact she barely seems to have acknowledged it, but then it is common knowledge.

 Greatest player of his generation fails spectacularly on the world stage. Goes utterly off the rails. Loses his form. Loses his hand.

 It’s hardly a secret.

 He doesn’t know why he has the urge to tell her about the few things that are.

 “It was an accident.” He taps his prosthetic on the table. “I was -“

 Emma lifts an eyebrow. “I know. Everyone knows. You don’t need to tell me.”

 “Most people want the gory details.”

 “You’re good.” Emma waves her fork over the meatballs. “Must have been hard, losing your career like that.”

 “It wasn’t the worst thing I lost,” says Killian. “Not by far.”

 “I’m sorry,” she says, and she sounds like she actually means it, a little furrow firming between her eyes. “I didn’t mean… I’m sorry. About your wife.”

 There had been a time not so very long ago when even the word had been enough to send him into a spiral of furious misery. Wife. Always said in that same odd tone of pity with a frisson of thrill, as though their genuine sympathy for his loss is merely a veneer to disguise their prying.

 It doesn’t sound like that when Emma says it.

 It sounds like she means it.

 He isn’t sure quite what to make of that.

 “You have done your research. There are laws against stalking you know.”

 She smiles, and her whole face lights up and he’s screwed.

 “Says you.”

 “Fair point.”

 So screwed.

 “So,” she leans forward, eyes flicking left and right. “Tell me. Is it true?”

 God. What a question. Which part? The drink? The drugs? The women and the days that he can’t remember.

 The years he can’t remember.

 “What?”

 “You know.” Her smile turns conspiratorial. “About the team.”

 “What?” he says again, dumbly.

 “I heard a rumour. Something about blow up unicorns on the swimming pool roof?”

 Killian releases a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

 “Tell me,” he says, leaning in himself until their noses are only inches apart. “What do you know about Will Scarlet?”

 —-

 They’re losing. Losing to the flies, to the heat, to a Belgian team that - deep in his heart of hearts - he knows have a much more substantial chance of carrying the trophy home than they do.

 He ought to care, and he does, he does, but it’s difficult to give the pitch his full attention when Swan is four feet away, her own laser focus on the game putting him to shame.

 They’re through anyway, he tells himself to assuage his guilt. They’re through anyway, and he’s only human after all.

 He spends half time buoying up the boys as best he can. They, at least, are gutted by the scoreline. Young Mills is grey-faced in his neon green shirt, muttering apologies for a goal that Killian knows, knows, the Sun will lay the blame for at his inexperienced feet.

 “There’s no need, lad,” he tells him after the fifth I’m so sorry. “You show me a keeper who says kept a clean sheet in every game and I’ll show you a liar. What’s done is done. It’s over. The next forty five minutes. The next game. That’s what I want you to concentrate on. That’s what matters. You can beat yourself up, or you can beat the rest, which is it?”

 Mills nods, hands clenching and unclenching as he works out the nervous cramps, and the whole tea return to the field with a determination that hadn’t been there before the break.

 “Nice speech,” mutters Will. “Taking your own advice?”

 Kilian quirks an eyebrow and waits for the television cameras to sweep over them before he answers.

 “What’s that supposed to mean?”

 “If you don’t know what I mean, why’d you wait for the tv to bugger off?”

 “I had to make sure they got my best side.”

 “Sure you -”

 The crowd roars, a chance for England, and Killian’s half to his feet before the whistle goes. Emma’s flag is up. Offside.

 He hopes that’s not a metaphor.

 “Least she’s being careful not to play favourites,” Will grumbles.

 Killian glares at him. “She’s doing her job.”

 “Aye, and I’m doing mine.”

 Will and Killian lock eyes.

 “I’m not sure I like what you’re insinuating, Scarlett.”

 “And I ain’t sure I like this scoreline. But hey.” Will smiles, and shows a few too many teeth. “Could be worse. Let’s avoid Brazil, yeah?”

 “Yeah,” Killian mutters.

 There’s another English miss that they really should have buried and the crowd jeer and hoot their disapproval.

 “Could be worse.”

 —-

 Emma leaves the pitch sweaty and with at least half a dozen midges having met their end on her face, but she doesn’t head straight to the showers. Killian Jones is on the pitch surrounded by tv cameras and well made-up journalists, and she can’t help but watch, fascinated, from the edge of the now empty stands as they round on him like a pack of smiling hyenas.

 “Is this the end for England’s run, Killian?”

 “Do you regret the choice to bring Mills?”

 “What went wrong out there today, Killian?”

 You’d think they’d gone out, such were the accusations, the sharp disapproval in their faces, but they haven’t. Emma has carefully filled in the wallchart David has hung up in their hotel room. She knows this is the better side of the draw. The luckier side.

 She wants to tell Killian, even though it’s ridiculous because he knows, he knows, but he’s standing under the floodlights, dark brows furrowed as he tries to answer the questions that are barked at him, and somehow it seems very important that she makes sure.

 It’s an age until he leaves. Her uniform is sticking to her, her hair is standing on end. She needs a shower, desperately.

 But his expression is still dark and yeah. Yeah.

 This is a guy who knows what desperation really looks like.

 “You played well.”

 She follows him into the tunnel, checking briefly over her shoulder for paps as she does so. He doesn’t look at her, but he slows his pace so that she can catch up.

 It’s a start.

 “I’m afraid you much have me confused with someone half my age, Swan. I sat on my arse.”

 “You know what I mean.”

 He sighs. “Do I?”

 “Hey!” She grabs his elbow, forcing him to turn and look at her. “You’re not angry at them, are you?”

 Killian gapes at her. “Angry at them? Christ, no. I’m angry at myself.”

 “Why? You’re not responsible for what the press - “

 “Oh aren’t I? Aren’t I? If I’d scored -“

 He’s moved closer, and it’s her turn to stare at him blankly. Her hand is still on his elbow, fingers wound tight into the fabric of his shirt, and it suddenly feels very important that she not let go.

 “Wait, what?”

 He closes his eyes.

 “We were so close, Swan!”

 It takes her a moment. Of course it does, she was just a kid back then, 15 and with a family for the first time in her life. A family and her beloved soccer, and hadn’t that been the best summer of her life? So yeah, it takes her a moment to remember it must have seemed like the worst of his.

 “This is about that penalty?” She releases her death grip on his shirt and runs her hand up his arm. “Killian it’s been twenty years -“

 He shrugs off her attempt at comfort, jabbing his finger bitterly towards where the press had gathered.

 “And every year that passes they get worse. I know what they’ll be saying about Henry Mills tonight, and I’m sick of it. Sick of it.”

 “Killian! Killian -“

 There’s movement at the entrance to the tunnel and they shrink back into the shadows as one.

 “Don’t let them get to you like this,” Emma hisses. “They can’t play. They can’t do what you do.”

 “Any idiot can do what I do and several do. Ask the German press.”

 “I don’t believe that.” Emma folds her arms and looks at him critically: “you’ve stood on this stage before. You know how it feels. The love. The fear. That matters you know. You know how to be part of something.”

 He shakes his head.

 “All I know is how to fail at the last hurdle.”

 “If you say so, but I read, Jones. I know what you’ve overcome to get here.” She looks him up and down, gaze lingering for just a second on his prosthetic before flicking to his face. His mouth. She swallows.  “Doesn’t look like failure to me.”

——

 The lads are ready, or at least they think they are, but Killian has been here before (albeit only on the European stage), and he knows nothing - nothing - can prepare you for the moment you walk out into a pitch for a game like this.

 The quarter finals. The knockout stages of a World Cup.

 Not that there’s any pressure of course. The English are infamously restrained when it comes to sporting success, and if Killian is having to grit his teeth every time someone asks him if it’s coming home then at least it’s better than being asked when their flight is. He’s hidden himself away in the corridor between the boxes and the dressing room staircase,trying to take a moment to breath in between greeting passing dignitaries.

 Amazingly he’s managed not to be sick, but the night is young yet.

 “Hey.”

 Her voice is so soft he first thinks he’s hallucinating from nervous exhaustion, but she’s there, scuffing the toe of her sneaker along the concrete floor and wringing her fingers together.

 “I wanted to see if you were ok.”

 Killian stares at her. No, he isn’t. He’s not at all okay and yet…

 “Of course, Swan. All the better for seeing you.”

 Emma rolls her eyes, but she smiles all the same.

 “Yeah, well.” She looks him up and down. “Didn’t want you freaking out. Again.”

 “I don’t freak out, Swan.”

 “If you say so.”

 She steps a little closer then hesitates, checking the corridor for eavesdroppers before admitting, “I shouldn’t really be here.”

 “No I suppose not. I didn’t think you were allowed to play favourites?”

 “Please. Who says I’m supporting you?”

 He lifts an eyebrow.

 “Did I insinuate such a thing?”

 “Hmm.” She tilts her head to one side and considers him. “You didn’t have to.”

 “Dangerous ground that, Swan. Very dangerous.”

 They stare at each other for a moment, and Killian feels himself swaying toward her unintentionally, captivated by the glint in her eye and the way she worries her lip between her teeth.

 This is dangerous ground, all right.

 “It doesn’t matter, anyway,” she says, “I can support you now. That is if I want to, which I’m not saying I do.”

 “What?”

 She gestures to her outfit and he realises belatedly she’s not in her kit. “My matches are done. I should be flying home today.”

 “Forgive me but you’re a long way from the airport.”

 “Yeah well,” she grins, then points into the crowd. “Somebody insisted on staying a little while longer.”

 She holds out her phone to show him a picture.

 David is standing, draped in red and white, his arms outstretched as he bellows along to a song. Beside him Mary Margaret is engrossed in a programme.

 “I think he’s become quite the fan,” Emma says with a wink. “He’s started drinking lager.”

 “Heaven forfend,”says Killian. “And what about you, can I count on you for a little flag waving? Since you’re free of your obligations?”

 Emma snorts.

 “That might be pushing it. David’s far more partisan than me.”

 Speaking of pushing it. He can hear people approaching from the far end of the corridor and his ears are burning from the dressing down Will is bound to give him if he’s late to the dressing room and he shouldn’t and yet -

 “Then how will I know you’re on my side?”

 She looks at him. Wide, shrewd, knowing green eyes, and takes another step closer.

 “Guess you won’t. But just in case -“

 Will’s going to kill him, the press will have his guts, but Emma Swan’s lips are warm and a little bit chapped, and the whistle can wait.

 —-

 The equalise against the run of play with thirty seconds left on the clock.

 He can’t believe it. No one can believe it. It’s been a hideous, scrappy game full of gamesmanship and frustrated revenge, and they don;t deserve to lose lie this, They don’t.

 In football, as in life, you so rarely get what you deserve.

 The team spend the first fifteen minutes of extra time in a fog of disbelief, the second in a haze of desperation, but it’s no good.

 Penalties.

 Bloody hell, penalties.

 They’ve practiced, they’ve all practiced, hour after hour on the training pitch, their tactics and takers agreed weeks in advance, but nothing can prepare them for the reality.

 Nothing could have prepared him for the reality.

 (I’ll take it, Rob. I’ll do it.

 Are you sure?

 Certain.)

 He’s never been less certain than he is now, but there’s no time for worrying about his nerves.

 “Gaffer?”

 Mills is pale but determined, water bottle clutched tight in his hand.

 “You’ll be okay, lad,” Killian assures him. “Just as we’ve practiced, aye?”

 “Yeah, of course,” Mills nods as though he’s never considered any other possibility. “I’m fine - are you okay?”

 He almost brushes it off, but his spine is still tingling from Emma’s kiss, his knees still unsteady after twenty years of regret, and Mills is so sincere, so brave, so very, very young.

“Shitting myself, mate.” Will slaps them both on the shoulders, and the moment is gone. “Let’s do it.”

 “Yeah,” Mills lets out a deep breath.

 Killian may never breathe again. “Lets.”

 ---

 The only sounds worse than the ball thudding off the crossbar are the squealing of tyres and the crunch of bone. He knows this, knows it intimately, but he winces all the same, his heart shrivelling in his chest.

 We'll go on getting bad results… getting bad results….

 That fucking song. That fucking song.

 Mills is up again and Killian can see the pressure hanging over him, hanging over the rest of the team as they gather in a huddle at the halfway line, can feel it like a physical barrier as he toes at the edge of the area.

 The ball is on the spot. In the air.

 In Mill’s hands.

 There’s a high pitched squealing sound as though someone is letting down an enormous balloon, and Killian just catches sight of Will falling to his knees as England step back up to the spot.

 And win.

 And win.

 ---

 He eats grass while lying flat on his face beneath a mound of grown men who’ve suddenly become puppies. He mops up the tears of the devastated lad who missed because that sort of pain, that hurt, transcends all boundaries of time and language. He applauds and dances in front of a stand of sobbing fans who scrub their faces with their flags and sing that song, that fucking song, until his ears are ringing.

 And then it’s dark, and quiet. And he’s alone in a stadium that reaches up to a cloudless, star-filled sky.

 Well, almost alone.

 Emma curls her fingers around his as she gazes up at the heavens and he in turn studies her profile, the curve of her cheek standing out against the distant chalk white of the goalposts.

 And for the first time in twenty years, he dares to believe.