#good for them! however i do sort of feel like sticking a broken glass bottle in my eye

[genderqueer-karma]

little rant because i just feel Blah right now.

don’t read if you don’t feel like hearing about my drama and “mental anguish”.

y’all may or may not know this, but i came out to my parents about five years ago after a brief stint in the hospital. i wrote them letters. (because my father lived in another city at the time, i mailed his to him.) what you definitely know, or at least could figure out, is that they are incredibly christian and decidedly not pro-queer, even if they’ve never been outright violent in their bigotry.

i had conversations with both of them after they read the letters; most explaining how i felt and what was going on with me. it was vulnerable, honest, and a very dumb choice. naturally, both of them grilled me with questions, even after i’d laid my soul (at the time) bare.

suffice it to say, when i told them the name i wanted to go by at the time, neither of them agreed, and kept calling me my birth name and “she/her” without so much as a care. when i said i’d wanted a binder, they’d outright refused, so i took matters into my own hands and bought one (years later). it was a little gc2b one, the racerback kind that really looked like a sports bra.

i felt accomplished to have that thing when it had arrived, like i was finally taking a step towards enjoying my life. the only problem? it was too small. i had to send it back.

i’d tried, but my mother intercepted it (i was trying to use a previously used envelope, which apparently was a bad call. granted, i was really young at the time and didn’t know you couldn’t do that.)

she figured out i got one of those “flat bra things” because i’d (mistakenly) drawn her a picture of one in my letter, believing that she’d kindly help me get one. when the replacement one arrived, i had to immediately surrender it to her, and i never saw it again. i miss it every day.

fast forward to the present day. yesterday, in fact. i bit the bullet and recently got a replacement for my long lost binder (that i’m 100% sure was thrown away) but got it sent to a friend’s house this time. i found out it was delivered saturday while i was out of town. i haven’t gone to get it yet.

yesterday night, around 11, i was made aware of the fact that someone i grew up with changed their name to a more masculine one. now, they’ve been masc (in appearance) for a while, so i had no feelings about it except “good for them!” because that’s how i honestly feel. i’m glad they have the resources and (hopefully) support to do that.

but i can’t lie. another, uglier, feeling was settled deep in my spirit. how come they got all this support (not from my mom, who no doubt has already gone on several rants to her sisters and mother, despite the fact that they only know this person tangentially) when i was stuck having to sneak around and only be myself on the internet? i come people around them were at least marginally supportive, even if they didn’t have a complete understanding or just didn’t care? why am i not allowed to be independent?

and i know other people have it considerably worse, but this is right at my doorstep. to say that i wish i could be that person at this moment is an understatement. not even for the name change; just so i could feel what it was like to be able to express myself and explore my identity freely.

and obviously i dont know the whole story, it could be much worse for them behind the scenes. but that still doesn’t stop me from feeling bitter and envious. not particularly at them, but in a way that cuts back at me and everyone i know.

i’m 99% sure i was outed to family members, even though i expressly said i didn’t want that. but of course, nobody cares enough to treat me differently. so i live in mildly uncomfortable silence.

regardless. i’m happy for them. i am. but this is another in a long line of people who are honestly doing way better at the “growing up” thing than me. and it stings.

[peakyblindersxx]

May I request a john smut in which, despite being the cocky beast that he usually is, he manages to get all gentle and intense when, after years of mutual pining, he finally makes love to ada's best friend who's younger and totally inexperienced. Idk I just need this to be fucking intense, like John suffocating his desire for ages and now finally indulging in his worst temptation and showing her what lust is... please i'll burn in hellll

a/n: first of all let me say: this killed me. like, it’s literally all i can think about. god help me. but thank you so fucking much for requesting this bc i liked it sooo much that i decided to make a mini series out of it with the help of my babe @stxdyblr-2k who was sweet enough to offer to ghostwrite on the series 🥰 and to all my other angels who requested fics, don’t worry i will get them done! just wanna give you guys the best quality work i can. my 1st priority are some tommy requests i got, as well as some michael ones after :)

love, abi xxx

whiskey business - john shelby x reader (1 of ?)

warnings: nsfw! eventual smut, slow burn, john being sexy as all hell but also soft

John couldn’t tear his eyes off of you. From the moment you walked into the Garrison, arm loosely linked with Ada’s, clad in a black lace dress that hugged you just right, he couldn’t stop staring. Even Tommy and Arthur had noticed, cracking some joke about him being pussy whipped. The words floated right over his head, his mind on one thing only. The last time he had seen you, you were barely eighteen, cheeks pink as you waved goodbye out the train window to Ada as she sobbed. Ada had always had a flair for the dramatic, but the two of you had practically been attached at the hip your entire lives. So, he consoled her, reminding her that university wasn’t forever, that you would be back soon enough. And back, you were, red-stained lips sipping at a glass of something that Ada had practically shoved in your face. You weren’t a girl anymore, black heels crossed at the ankle as you sat across the room in a booth, laughing as Ada waved her arms, telling some sort of story.

“Just fuckin’ talk to ‘er, John-boy,” Arthur’s voice cut through John’s train of thought like a sharp knife, and he focused his eyes on his two brothers sitting at the booth across from him, clouds of smoke from Tommy’s incessant smoking heavy in the air around them.

“Fuck off,” John returned as he stood, earning a chuckle from Tommy.

“That’s right,” Arthur shouted as John made his way towards the bar, rolling his eyes at his older brothers. “Make sure you show her a real good time, eh?” Arthur’s voice was soon drowned out by the crowd around John, as they parted to let him walk through. He didn’t even see them, his eyes trained on your smile. Fuck, you were pretty.

***

“So, then I fucking kicked him in the balls.” Ada’s eyes sparkled triumphantly as she recalled the time she’d incited a riot, managing to cause great injury to a certain part of a policeman’s body. She did so casually, like it was no big deal. You couldn’t control your laughter as Ada grinned, pleased that she’d been able to make you laugh. “Fuckin’ missed you, Y/N,” she professed, shooting the rest of her gin and gesturing at the bartender to “leave the fuckin’ bottle, already.”

“Missed you too,” you smiled back at her, happy to be back in Birmingham in the company of an old friend. London was beautiful, but lonely. There was something inside you that missed the dirty streets, the crowded pubs bursting with familiar faces.

“Had to come over here myself to make sure it was you,” A deep voice interrupted your reverie and you looked up to see none other than Ada’s older brother John, looking even handsomer than the last time you’d seen him, in a grey-three piece suit, a cigar hanging from his lips. You’d had the hugest crush on him growing up, and the butterflies swimming around in your stomach seemed to confirm that you still found the tallest Shelby brother irresistible.

“Hi, John,” You offered him a shy smile and scooched over as he slid into the booth next to you, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to your cheek. You couldn’t help but drink in the smell of his cologne, the various drinks that Ada had encouraged you to down making you press yourself closer to him.

“M’kay, if you’re going to fuck, at least wait until I’m gone.” Ada’s voice snapped you out of it and you looked away, a pink blush staining your cheeks.

“Says the one who managed to fuck three of my best mates before you left school,” John retorted, causing Ada to roll her eyes, shooting her whiskey and pouring the three of you another glass each.

“I feel like getting drunk, and I’m not doing it alone,” Ada announced, causing both you and John to crack a smile at her forcefulness.

“Good thing we took a cab here,” you returned, before shooting your whiskey. If you were going to have to stare at John all night, you thought, you might as well be drunk doing it. Wasn’t like he was going to be staring back.

***

Ada was shitfaced, dancing in the middle of the pub. Luckily, Isaiah had stepped in as her partner, making sure her stumbling didn’t cause her to trip and fall. Unluckily for you, this left a tipsy you and John alone tucked into a booth in the corner of the room, out of view. The conversation was friendly, and you were trying your best to keep your mind off the way you could see John’s forearms practically bulging out of his suit. It wasn’t fair, you thought to yourself, for him to walk around looking like that. Especially when you knew that he was probably fucking the latest movie star, or something. It was almost impossible for you to keep your head straight, yet you managed to keep it civil. However, you couldn’t help your gaze from drifting to his lips. God, they were so pink and looked so soft, it was unfair. You couldn’t stop yourself from imagining how they’d feel on your mouth, let alone other parts of your body. Jesus, you were fucked.

A third of a bottle of whiskey later, you couldn’t help but let yourself slide closer to him, heart beating fast in your chest as you sat tucked into his side, his arm around you as you laughed at a joke he’d made, something about the stick up Tommy’s ass. Your eyes shone as they met his blue ones, his arm sliding down until his fingers were brushing against your waist, radiating heat into your skin.

“Y’know, I’d tell you how fuckin’ pretty you look tonight, but I think you already know that,” John rumbled into your ear, lips just barely brushing against your neck. Your breath hitched, and he noticed, a small grin spreading across his lips.

“You’re something else, you know that?” You shot back, a small smile threatening to take over your lips.

“M’not just sayin’ that. Couldn’t take my eyes off ‘ya, since you walked in.” John wasn’t kidding. For a second you didn’t know how to reply, staring up at him with a slight look of disbelief. The whiskey, however, had other plans, and had decided to respond for you.

“Can't keep your hands off me now." You smirked, waiting for him to escalate the moment, anticipation and liquor silencing the blaring alarm in your mind. God, you shouldn't want him as badly as you do.

"Can you blame me?" He muttered, dragging his fingers across the lace of your dress, tracing the pattern's loops absentmindedly, watching your jaw tense and lips part to take a gasping breath, your jacket having long vanished into the chaos of the pub. Your arms wound themselves around his neck, fingers twisting into his short hair. "Fucking come 'ere lass."

His strong arms lifted you onto his knee, gripping a thigh to help you balance, the friction of his rough hand against the stiff fabric pushing your dress up slightly. The need for more and the desire to know him completely intoxicated you far more than anything from a bottle; you'd never felt as though you were on fire from your drunk hookups. His fingers found the zip of your dress, tugging it down desperately, gripping the flesh of your exposed shoulder blades. A small groan erupted from your lips as you felt him chuckle below you, pressing a thumb to your lips to quieten you.

"John," you whined, pouting playfully against his thumb.

"I'll sort you out, I swear," He muttered, slipping his thumb between your lips. Instinctively, you sucked, locking eyes with him, his hand straying from your back to roughly grab your jaw, holding your gaze. "But if you're going to scream your 'ead off, we'll get caught."

"You wish you could make me scream, John-lad."

"Come off it, I could ruin you, Y/N." He stated, lifting your jaw, as though memorising the construction of your face, tone brimming with a cocky confidence only John could make attractive. "You want that?"

"More than anything." The words tumbled out of your mouth thoughtlessly, watching how his jaw tightened in response as you attempted to read his expression. He studied you for what must've only been a few seconds, but the moment passed so slowly, you could barely remember what it felt like to not be examined by his dominating blue eyed stare.

His grip guided your face to his, fingers tilting your chin so John's lips could brush against yours, before pulling you into a heated almost aggressive kiss, the straps of your dress barely grazing your shoulders, the hem of your dress bunching around your waist as he reached down your back to grab your bum in a firm squeeze. Your mouth gaped open in a gasp of pleasure, John taking the moment to run his tongue against your lips, gaining access and deepening the kiss. You were so caught up in the thrill of John's seduction that you hadn't noticed his hand suddenly pull away after moving your skimpy underwear to one side. You had instinctively ground your hips against him, he'd broken the kiss to let out a string of curses, complimenting you through his quickening breaths (“Fuckin’ wet for me already, aye?”), gripping your thigh. But as soon as he had pulled the thin silk from your thighs, the atmosphere shifted, his lip curling in frustration as his hands left your skin as though your flesh was suddenly scalding.

"John?" You prompted, resting a hand on his shoulder, noticing the dark shadows under his eyes for the first time.

"It's getting late."

"What?" Your voice sounded high and whiny, you mentally scolded yourself for sounding so needy. It was embarrassing to be rejected by the man you've admired for many years, but even worse to be openly vulnerable and so pathetic in front of your best friend's brother.

Ada.

Oh fuck.

Realisation hit you, it was either that or the unholy quantity of alcohol you'd downed which turned your stomach. You had gone too far this time. It was one thing to flirt with John and desire him from a distance, it was an absolute betrayal to have sex with him, knowing Ada's insecurity about being used to get close to her gangster brothers- sex, power and politics. You had sworn during those tearful walks around the canal that you'd never hurt her. You couldn't do that to her.

Your sudden panic must've been obvious, you tried to stand up from John's lap, stumbling slightly, only regaining balance due to a sudden arm across your back, anchoring you upright.

"No one has to know. It's our secret yeah?" He muttered into your ear, his words comforting.

You nodded silently, the reality of the situation settling in. Your hands are shaking by your sides, John catches them, locking his fingers with yours.

"It's fine, now. Nothing happened yeah?" He stood up in front of you, his muscular physique looming before you, the creases across his torso reminding you that just a few minutes ago his body was under yours, he was breathless, needing your skin against his, desperate and vulnerable. "I'll zip you up. Turn around."

His hands dropped from yours to fumble clumsily with your zip, struggling in the gloom and fog of intoxication, he eventually succeeded, the lace clinging to the curve of your hips, waist, back and chest again. You wished it was him instead that was skimming your figure but you pushed the thought away with a simple, "Thanks."

"I'll walk you home yeah?" He offered, as he straightens your skirt and his tie, allowing you to fix his crumpled shirt collar and the row of shining buttons below his throat which you'd ripped open as he whispered dirty nonsense in your ear, smirking at how you arched your back and swore back at him through your moans.

"Isaiah already said he would, it'd be better for us both that way. You know how people around here talk." You replied, glancing at the mirror on the wall of the booth to quickly smooth your tousled hair. Despite only recently returning to Small Heath, you'd already encountered the rife gossiping and quickly realised your neighbour was incapable of minding his own business. "Nobody has to know, right?"

John nodded, disappointed but appreciating your rationale and quick thinking despite your state, "Right."

"Good night, John," You said politely, ignoring the tension in his tone and the sudden soft sadness of his eyes, turning your back and walking to the door. Back to the sticky dance floor, back to Ada, Isaiah, Finn, Tokyo, back to spilling drinks, ashing cigarettes, back to noise, safety and far from the man who made your morals vanish with the same lines he uses on probably every single one of his conquests. Fuck it. You were going to enjoy it, you sped up your pace in your heels, trying to ignore your shaking legs. You tried to ignore the guilty twang in your gut when Ada screamed your name across the pub and stumbled over, dragging some lad on her arm, pressing drunken kisses to your forehead and cheeks.

You couldn't help but look back to see his shadow sloping away into the darkness of the booths closer to the dance floor, being bullied mercilessly by his brothers you assumed. You watched him fake a smirk, take the knuckles to his brow from Arthur, snap an insult back to Thomas and settle into his rightful seat. You only shifted your gaze to Ada for a moment but when you looked back up, he was staring at you, jaw tense, icy stare burning into yours, arms folded on the table, the gold chains of his sleeve garters barely glinting in the dim light. He looked away but you could see his cheeks were flushed with blood even in the glow of the oil lamps.

Pretending nothing happened was going to be impossible.

***

to be continued!

[bts-hyperfixation]

Never Such A Blizzard Before

This is real long for a drabble, hope you like it @madygswich

Also I've posted this like 3 times now, it does not want to show in the tags man 😭

Packing for the holidays was not your favourite thing. All of your flatmates had already left for home, and from what you could tell the rest of the dorm had cleared out too. So naturally you did what anyone would do when they thought they were home alone… you turned up your Christmas music as loud as you could and danced around, clearing the rest of your mess from around the communal spaces. You were midway through a tango with the mop when you spotted him watching you from the apartment opposite yours. His nose is scrunched from the giggles you can’t hear through the glass. Heat rises to your cheeks as you quickly abandon your inanimate partner and duck into the safety of your bedroom. Of all moments for Jeon Jungkook to notice your existence, it had to be this one.

Jungkook was fairly well known around your dorm as the quiet cutie. Everyone wanted to talk to him, but he tended to stick to a fairly small friendship circle, much to all of the girls’ dismay. He was stunning. And there he was laughing at you.

You go to the turn your speaker down when it cuts out of its own accord. Frowning, you attempt to get it working again, but its no use. Then you notice the lamp on your desk had also gone out. Before you get a chance to test any of your other appliances, there’s a knock at the door. An equally puzzled looking Jungkook is now at your door. You open it for him to come in.

“Sorry to intrude on your… dance class? But nothing in my apartments working and you are the only other person I know is still here.” He states

“Yeah, my stereo and lights have all gone out too.” His brow furrows.

“Right okay, I’ll call the accommodation office. Hopefully, someone will still be there, and we can get this sorted soon.” Jungkook takes out his mobile and you take the chance to look at him up close. His new undercut does wonders for his jawline, the soft curl just adding to the effect. His lose-fitted black jumper and black skinny jeans suit him well, a signature style you’ve noticed. Despite his good looks Jungkook didn’t seem to like bringing too much attention to himself. Unfortunately, by concealing himself it just left more people wondering what was underneath. You are brought out of your thoughts when he scoffs at his phone before putting it back in his pocket.

“What did they say?” You ask trying not to stare any longer.

“Powers out.” You roll your eyes at the blunt answer.

“Did they say how long?”

“Nope.” He says popping the p. “They didn’t seem to give a shit to be honest, looks like we are just going to have to keep ourselves entertained until it hopefully comes back on its own.” He shrugs and starts looking around your apartment. “I’m Jungkook by the way, your Y/N right?” he sits himself down at your kitchen table, swinging his legs on to the chair next to him.

“Um, yeah Y/N… Aren’t you supposed to be going home for Christmas?” you moved to feel the kettle and are relieved to find it’s still warm. “Drink?” you try to avoid his gaze as his eyes follow you around the room.

“I’ll take tea if you have it… but, yeah I’m going home but not for two days. My family aren’t even home right now so there wouldn’t be a point. Why are you still here?” it really feels like his eyes are going to bore a hole in the back of your head as you busy yourself.

“My family all work running up to the holidays, if I went home, I’d just be alone for the next week, at least this way I get to be alone without my mom yelling at me to wake up as she leaves in the morning.” You shrug and try not to dwell on it any longer. Placing the tea in front of Jungkook, you take a seat opposite him before taking a sip of your own drink. You savour the warmth in silence for a little while. Every so often one of you will catch the other looking, he starts pulling silly faces when you catch him, making you giggle in return. Eventually you find your way into an easy conversation, you tell him about your course. He listens like he actually cares about the mundane inner workings of your course work. You return the favour, asking intricate question about his film course, the only difference being you find his genuinely interesting.

“You got a pack of cards, and some torches?” He asks, sitting up right.

“We’re at university… of course I have a deck of cards, as long as you don’t mind the beer stains that is and I think there is a big torch in the place” You point to a cupboard by the door and he fetches them back.

“If we can’t use anything electronic, we might as well do some good old fashion gambling” there’s a mischievous glint in his eye as he shuffles the deck. “How about strip poker?” the look on your face must’ve been quite the picture as he starts laughing immediately. “Okay… how about alcohol? We can bet sips and shots, that’ll help warm us up too.” You nod and leave the room.

You return with a bottle of vodka, lemonade, and two red solo cups. You watch as he pours a dangerous amount of liquor into both cups followed by about a thimble of mixer. For someone who kept to himself so much, he sure was eager to get drunk with a stranger. You snatch the lemonade from his grasp and pour more into your cup. You start with blackjack, a civil game, 1 or 2 sips bet at most. You can’t help but giggle at the face he pulls trying to swallow his almost straight vodka. You then switch to schlumpf, a game with six rounds: the first four involve guessing the next card in the deck, the fifth is trying to get rid of those cards, the sixth involves only the person with the most cards - they must face the pyramid (climb up four layers of cards without turning a face card).

You find yourself fairly tipsy after a few rounds. Fairly tipsy and extremely cold…

“Hey, did we check if the heating worked?” Jungkook seems surprised by your question.

“No… we really should’ve huh?” the boiler is hidden in a cupboard in hallway, you rush from the room to check.

“Nothing” you sigh “Heating’s broken.” You call behind you, just to find Jungkook had come with you. You nearly smack straight into him as you turn back towards the kitchen. Your lips a hairbreadths away from his, tension building between the two of you. He glances at your lips and then back at your eyes, asking for permission, but you’ve already lost focus. Something catches your eye out of the large window and the end of your hallway.

“OH MY GOD!” you pull back from him a rush to look outside. He lets a frustrated breath out through his nose before following you to see what was going on. “It’s snowing!” he watches you as you watch the snow, admiring the adorable grin that has taken over your face. He takes in the way your eyes sparkle with the light from the streetlamps reflected in them.

“Wait what time is it?” he asks, suddenly aware of how dark it’s gotten outside. You hadn’t noticed the world dimming around your games. You glance at your watch and your eyes go wide.

“3am…” you look up at him and notice how close he is again. Stood directly behind you, if you took half a step back, you’d be in his arms. “Did you want to stay here… I mean it would be warmer if we stayed together… I mean if you want…” you stutter through stupid excuse to try to get him to stay the night.

“Yeah, you know what that seems like a great idea, sharing body heat or whatever.” His nose scrunches in the cutest way possible and he wraps an arm around your waist. “Anything to stay warm.” He whispers into your ear making you shiver. His embrace is gone as quickly as it was there. “Do you have enough blankets? Or do you want me to fetch mine? We could make a little fort to protect us.” There’s no way you’re turning down that offer. You settle in your bedroom and give him the torch and your door keys so he can go in search of more bedding. You sit there wrapped in your duvet a staring out the window and the settling snow until he comes back with more pillows than anyone should ever own in hand. He has also switch into a plain white t and grey sweats, a look classic enough to make anyone hot under the collar. You try not to focus too much on his pj’s focus the torchlight on your building site instead.

By the time you’re finished with construction, you are exhausted. You don’t really think about it as you cuddle into Jungkook amongst your mountain of pillows and blankets. All you know is you are cosier than you have ever been.

When morning arrives, you are all to aware of who you are snuggled up with, even more aware of his morning wood poking into your back. You wriggle a little, trying not to wake him, but he just sleepily pulls you back into him. You resign yourself to your fate and instead revel in the warmth his body provides.

“Good morning” he mumbles sleepily kissing your hair before realising where he is and who you are. “Oh um… sorry… that was weird.” He then swivels his hips as he realises what position you are in. He doesn’t, however, release you from his embrace. “Apparently I just can’t help myself around a pretty girl.” You feel the deep blush that creeps up your cheeks and try to hide it in his chest.

“It s’okay.” You mumble into him. He chuckles at your reaction and strokes at your hair.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah.”

“Look at me?” you pull your head back from your hiding spot and tilt your chin upwards, only to have your lips met with his. Slightly stale from sleep, but somehow still amazing. It doesn’t help the shyness you had been feeling, and it definitely doesn’t help the situation going on his sweats. He pulls away all too soon for you. “So… was that okay?”

“Yeah… yeah that was okay.” You’re a little breathless as you answer.

“Cool… so I’m going to go brush my teeth but, do you want to continue this when I come back? Or I can just not come back… completely up to you… although I do think it’s going to be really cold again today, and it did seem to work better with two people for heat and…” you cut off his nervous babble with another quick kiss before peeling back the covers and letting the cold air in.

“Continuing sounds great, but you better hurry because you’re going to get cold real quick, and if you think I’m going to let you back in here with cold hands, you’re dreaming.” You tease, gaining confidence in his sudden lack. His bunny smile shows as he leaps out of bed, practically running from your apartment to his. While he is gone you brush your own teeth and find your condoms (it’s been a while). You peel back the curtains a little and are shocked to find the snow still going strong. At least two foot covers sparkles on the floor as the blizzard continues.

You scramble back under the covers when you hear footsteps approaching. He flings back the duvet making you squeal as he straddles you and places cold hands under your shirt.

“What did I say about cold hand!” you cry as he warms them on your stomach.

“You said you wouldn’t let me back in… but I’m not in, I removed the blanket completely. Although I am now seeing the floor in that plan” he drags the duvet back over your bodies.

“It’s all well and good putting the blanket back now, but I’m already cold.” You pout.

“Oh… let me help you with that.” He dips down so his body covers yours completely. He kisses you deeply, much more passionately now that he is minty fresh. He waits until you can’t breathe properly and then moves on to trailing his lips along your chin and down your throat. “Willing to get a little colder to get a lot hotter?” he asks signalling to the hem of your shirt. You bite your lip and nod. “God your hot.” He bends to kiss you once more before doing away with the unwanted fabric. His hot tongue circles one of your nipples, playing with it until its stiff. When he’s satisfied, he moves to the other side doing the same while one of his hands plays with the abandoned peak.

You moan as he bites sensitive skin. He doesn’t leave you long to revel in the pleasure. His fingers dip into your waistband a tug. You lift your hips and allow him to shimmy your pants low enough to play with your core. His left-hand pinches at your clit as his mouth returns to yours, swallowing the desperate whines that tumble form your lips as he teases two fingers at your entrance.

“Tell me how much you want me babygirl.” You arch into his hand at the pet name.

“So…o mu...ch” you pant, not able to manage more. But it’s enough for Jungkook as he pushes both fingers into you. The stretch burns so nicely as he scissors and thrusts into you. It’s difficult to focus on him as he shuffles down your bed for his mouth to join his hand.

“Look at me Y/N” his voice is low and commanding. You use everything in you to meet his eyes as his lips wrap around your clit and suck. The sensation makes you squeal. His response is to go harder. The heat in the pit of your stomach grows until you feel like you might explode. Your orgasm overtakes you, coating his fingers and chin as he continues his endeavours. You ride his fingers until you come down, gasping hard from the release.

“Can you take me?” you meet his eyes and find nothing but lust within the deep brown. You nod enthusiastically, reaching for the condom you prepared. He chuckles as he slides his own pants down. He rips the small blue packet open and slides it easily on to his hard length. You kick your pants the rest of the way down your legs while he sorts himself out, freeing up your movement. Unable to hold back any longer, you wrap your arms around his neck and drag him back down to meet you. Your lips lock together, tongues exploring one another, you can still taste yourself on him. It takes you by surprise when he enters you.

You let a low whine as he gets thicker the further in he pushes. Your nails claw into his back at the small “fuck” that leaves his mouth when he’s all the way in. You wriggle your hips under him, desperate for friction and he groans.

“You keep doing that and this isn’t gonna last long.” He bites down hard on his lip and tries to focus on controlling his thrusts. Each smack of skin is accompanied by a grunt, the speed dizzying as you feel your high approaching for a second time.

“Jungkoo..” you whine as you clench around him, just to be left empty as he pulls out of you. You pout at the loss, sad as your high disappears.

“Turn over baby girl.” He helps you flip and presses back into you with little warning. The new angle feels amazing. Never having felt so full. He pulls almost all the way out of you before pushing hard all the back in, hitting every nerve you have on the way. He supports your quivering form with his strong arms. You’re not sure when he abandoned his shirt, but you are pulled back against his sweaty chest. Your high builds back up so fast you nearly get whiplash. This one even more intense than the last. He drops your spent body back on to the mattress and grabs onto your bum for purchase as he goes harder than ever chasing his own high.

It doesn’t take long for him to cum, buried deep inside of you. It takes him a moment to recover, resting his hands on your back before pulling out and tying the end of the condom.

“I almost don’t want the heating to get fixed if this is going to stay an option.” He says collapsing next to you and recovering you both with the blankets.

“I’m sure we could do this again even if the heating comes back on you know…”

Masterlist

[wornoutmouse]

Do it keep tagging you? @ozarkthedog

Day 3: Daddy Kink

Warning: dubious concent if you squint

"F-Fuck!" you softly moan into your sheets gripping your blanket as you haphazardly finger yourself, trying to gain any sort of satisfaction only to come up with nothing.

The reason you found yourself so pathetically horny was because of that bastard Tsukishima. If you could curve stomp the bastard, you would in an instant. Since the day you showed up to watch your new friend Hinata's volleyball practices, he has disliked you. The only reason being was the fact that you were the same height as him and it bruised his ego. "Eh, what's with Jane the Giant over here." You look around confused at who goldie locks were talking about, anf when you realized it was you, you were unamused.

"What do you mean bro we are the same height?!" you ask standing up hands on your hip trying to look intimidating. "Not with that obnoxious hair your not." that comment irked you, but you remembered your anger management classes and took a few deep breaths, "This is just how my hair is." you reply pulling a strand of curls smirking at the scoff the boy made as said strand reached your chin before snapping back up into your fro. "Yeah well, it's obnoxious."

Ever since then your rivalry had been unleashed from you challenging him to a game of volleyball, which he beat you at, to him challenging you at basketball which you beat him at. It was non-stop and never-ending but both of you would rather choke and die before apologizing to the other and honestly, you two were pushing Dachi to his limit intolerance.

To your surprise, you had been invited to join the team at the Nekoma Training camp despite not being apart of it what so ever. "It'll be a learning experience for all of us so why not invite our biggest cheerleader!" Dachi explained as you helped take in the bags. You could hear Tsukishima scoff behind you and you wished he choked on that breath as he shoved past you. "You aren't wrong about her being our biggest." You growl and throw a water bottle at his head hitting right on target

"Yeah well you couldn't handle all this even if you tried." you respond sensually gliding your hands along your waist and up your chest ending in a macho pose making Suga cover his mouth to hide his laugh. Instead of responding to the insult Tsukishima's eyes intently follow your hands, eyes spending a longer time at your wide hips than most of your body. His eyes trail higher and finally meet yours sending a shiver through your body. His gaze was quite unsettling and it didn't lessen when he turned around wordlessly carrying his luggage on his shoulder.

"What the hell was that?" you muttered scratching your hair flitching as your nails caught on a stray hair sticking out your twists.

Later on in the day, you opted to cook for the boys while they all showered. Well, almost all of them to your dismay, "Didn't know a giant could cook, what a surprise." you heard Tsukishima mock from behind you ask he sat on the kitchen island. "You know that this is an open space and you could be anywhere else?" you sigh cutting the fire off and making everyone a plate. "Yeah but I like making you uncomfortable so this is nice and fine for me." you shook your head asking God to give you strength.

Luckily he seemed to have heard your prayers as the other guys began pouring into the room and you handed each of them their food. "Well I've already eaten, so I'm going to go take a shower!" you declare wiping your hands with a cup towel proud of your job well done as you watched the blissful faces of your newfound teammates.

The shower was long and hot and you walked in peace as you fiddled with the soft fabric of the towel wrapped around you. "Thwack!" you stopped at the unusual sound and jerked your head around wildly trying to figure out where it was coming from so you could expertly walk in the opposite direction. "Thwack!" the sound was louder at this point and you deducted that it was coming from in front of you, unfortunately, the only thing behind you were the showers and the last thing you wanted was to be cornered so you held your ground. "Thwack"

You run forward and send a hard punch into the darkness only for another hand to encase around it, "What the hell are you doing, freak!?" came the annoying voice of Tsukishima, and for a moment you wished it were an intruder. "Why are you making creepy-ass noises in the dark!?" you retort tightening your towel around you to gain some source of dignity. Through the dim lighting, you could see Kei roll his eyes as he held up a lanyard of keys. "I was swinging these around dumbass." You looked at him for a moment before shaking your head in mock disapproval as you try to walk away.

Before you could get far, you feel a large hand yank your arm back, "Hey even though it's me and I wouldn't want to be within 6 feet of your giantess body, You shouldn't walk around in only a towel, this is open property." You nod in understanding as you look up at him choking on your breath as you're once again met with that strange look of determination on his face. You can't quite place it, but now in the chilling air with darkness so thick you could barely see 6 feet in front of you, it was exciting.

"Why are you just standing there like a fork int the road?" Tsukishima deadpanned as he turns to walk away, "By the way, everyone went out exploring so make sure your door is locked!" You pout before kicking yourself for hoping something would happen. "Like hell I'd let him touch me!" you grunt kicking open the nearest door and plopping on the bed arms folded in childish frustration. You absentmindedly stroke the arm he was holding and your mind went back to that look he revealed to you two times already today. It was a bit determined but what it was directed towards was a mystery.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath in acceptance. "Feeling good one time wouldn't hurt, I mean just to get it out my system." you reason with yourself as you climb under the sheets that felt strangely not like your own but you were too focused on your objective to care as you unwrap your towel.

You weren't usually one to speed through your special moment but your me-time could be cut short at any minute so it was best if you hurried. You suck lightly on your fingers to lube them up as you lightly graze your clit, using your imagination to reinvent your rival's look of determination though you would never admit to it. As you trail your wet fingers down you realize that it was the same look he gives during games. A look that meant he was sure of his movement and already knew the outcome. Your breath hitches as you sink your middle finger slowly inside of yourself gently prodding at your walls trying to make room. "I'm at least doing two today."

You bring your other hand around your neck loosely cradling it before squeezing ever so slightly before dragging the hand down to your large breasts. You weren't surprised that the cold air had made you nipples harden as you take them in between your manicured nails. You hum trying to stay quiet so you could listen to your surroundings. Soon however, your patience runs out and you finally slip in a second finger using your essence as release groaning lightly at the burning stretch that was uncomfortable but not unwelcomed. At that moment you recall the firm grip Tsukishima had on your arm and the hardness of his voice when he reprimanded you. Much to your dismay, your mind began to supply numerous insults he could say to you at this moment.

"Look at you taking my fingers so greedily my little giant." you shiver as you imagine the places his much longer fingers could reach inside of you as you struggle to reach the spot that was so close yet so far. You use your other hand to massage your small bud in time with your thrusts. "What is it not good enough for you? Are you such a slut that you need something bigger already?!" Your legs quiver and you nod to the non-existent voice mocking you in your head. As long as you didn't acknowledge it, the voice had no relation to someone with blond hair and glasses.

"Good girls get to cum you know. You can't ignore me forever. Y/N what is my name?" you whimpered, "Fuck!" you whined as you turn to your side, the pace of your little thrusts doing their best to speed up despite how tightly your legs were wrapped around them. "Say my name!" the voice came again more aggressive this time. "K-Kei." you whimper covering your hand over your mouth in betrayal. You imagined the voice that you finally acknowledged to be Tsukishima, take form like a figure sitting above you watching your pathetic displays of arousal as he refused to reach deeper in the way you knew he could. "That's not my name little giant, say my name." you shook your head gipping the pillow above you. In your imagination, Kei sharply pinched your quivering thighs, "Say it!" Unable to hold back anymore, you let out a broken and defeated moan "Daddy!"

You had finally found the position that let you reach a place so deep and so right, you saw sparkles of light behind your eyelids. You could feel the pit of your stomach begin to warm up as your release came close. As you try to focus on that, you miss the small dip in the sheet next to you but freeze when you feel a large cold hand come over yours, it's thumb gently massaging your clit sending shivers down your spine at the contrast in temperature brought you closer to your sweet release.

"W-Who are you?" you stutter out alarmed as the hand slaps yours away dragging a finger through your arousal before completely pushing the long thick digit inside of you with no regard to the size difference. Arching your back in ecstasy, a choked sob leaving your hand as you try to suppress your noises. You open your eye and blink rapidly trying to adjust to the darkness you were no longer used to. "What, don't you recognize your daddy?" came the voice of the real Tsukishima. "N-No, I-" you gasp as the long finger finds your g-spot and rubs against it like a man that found gold. You buck into the hand wrapping your legs around the long arm gripping onto it with your hands as if it was the only thing keeping you anchored to reality.

You barely touched yourself, now to have another person touching you so intimately was too much for your mind to bear. "T-T-To much please!" you whine as the finger prods at that one spot before you once again felt a cold thumb roughly massage your soft bud. There was an annoying click of a tongue as you feel yourself being turned on your side and a warm body slid behind you. "You have the nerve to be making demands after being a whore on my bed!" the fingers sped up and you could no longer hold back your moans as you felt your release reach its peak. "Don't be shy, say it again, call me your daddy." You shook your head defiant before you were jerked forward by a harsh slap on your thigh.

"Say it giant!" Kei growls in your ear leaving kisses along your neck. It would have been sweet had he not continued to say condescending remarks and hard bites that without a doubt would lead to hickeys. "Say what you fucking said Y/N. You know your place now be a good girl and say it or I'm not letting you cum." True to his word you could feel his finger leaving your warmth and you do your best to not let that happen. "Such as slut trying to suck me back in. I'll keep going if you use your pretty little mouth to say my name." You cover your face, "Please Kei." with a broken moan you jerk in reaction to Tsukishima twisting his finger inside of you harshly dragging his knuckle against your walls. "That's not my name and you know it." With a defeated wine you arch your back rubbing your ass against Tsukishima's groin, "Please Daddy, make me feel good!"

Tsukishima scoffed to hide his arousal, "Always like you to go above and beyond my little giant." As if feeling how close you were, Tsukishma's other hand reached from under you to grab your throat preventing any noise from leaving your mouth pushing your orgasm right out of you as the lightheadedness made the pleasure unbearable.

As you came down from the pleasure you could feel weariness overtake you and you sighed as you felt yourself being raised up to have a large shirt pulled down your body. You look over at Kei as he stood up and walked off, "Where are you going?" you asked as you pull the soft blanket cover you again. "I came in here because I forgot my deodorant." He smirked looking down at you but you were too tired to retort.

The next day you hid your face in embarrassment as Hinata was consoling Tanaka after he discovered the plentiful bruises littering your neck. "How can you even see them, I'm dark!" you whine as Suga pats your back reassuringly. "You being dark makes it more noticeable if I'm being honest Y/N." Tanaka lt out a loud wail, "Who would taint the pure soul of our precious Y/N?!" All while this is happening Tsukishima sits on the couch eating his udon, unbothered by the hysteria. And if one were to look they would see the satisfied smirk adorning his features. "Looks like I could handle all that." he whispered to himself

[inkrabbit]

Jisei - Sandayu Oda

I finally did it. The one-shot I wanted to do for Oda is complete. This story takes place after “Don’t Fear the Reaper”, and if V goes back to save Takemura. There are 2 different endings, and they are both labeled. Also, words written in italics are just Oda speaking Japanese.

Also, a bit of a spoiler for the secret ending! Especially Takemura’s part in this story’s Bad End!

Summary: A month after the events at Arasaka Tower, Oda manages to track down Takemura in order to ask him for one thing: forgiveness. The result of V’s actions have been eating away at the man, and he feels as though the last person he needs to express his remorse to is his old master.

Trigger Warning: Mentions and actions of suicide, blood, and gore

Word count: 1,732

 He failed. After years and years of trying to prove himself better than his master, he failed. Perhaps now he could understand Goro’s pain when Saburo died; that ultimate hopeless and defeated feeling. It made him ill, and as he knocked back another shot of whiskey, he grit his teeth, slamming a fist down on the table. Arasaka was in shambles, Hanako had hidden herself away to grieve, and Sandayu? Well, he couldn’t bring himself to show his face. Twice he had failed, and twice he had beaten himself up over it. V, that despicable merc, had ruined everything. All he was and all he stood for had been reduced to nothing but ruble and regret.

 He had thrown himself down to the feet of Miss Arasaka, pleading for her forgiveness. She had granted it, a gentle caress to his cheek with a sorrowful smile. But it didn’t make him feel better. He started out the first week groveling and feeling sorry for himself, contemplating committing seppuku in order regain any sort of honor to his name. But something nagged at him, and what would’ve been his final words were crumpled up and thrown into the trashcan that resided by the old motel’s bedside.

 Hanako had been nice enough to finally tell Sandayu of Goro’s fate after the general fall of Arasaka, and after he had gotten over his self-loathing. The only redeeming quality he could find in V. The merc had run through a hail of gunfire to go back and save Goro, and the man had been in hiding ever since. Oh, but that didn’t stop Sandayu from trying to track the man down day in and day out, desperate to reach out to him. Goro had always been there for him, even when he was supposed to be strict and cold during training. He needed the man’s forgiveness as well.

 It took almost a month, but he had finally done. Sleepless nights and determination had led him out to the Badlands, heat beating down on him and his hair sticking to his forehead. The motorcycle he had “found” was parked across the street in an old abandoned parking lot, and Sandayu found himself walking towards an old store. Any last traces of Goro had led back to this spot, a lone building that he couldn’t even identify. He could see why it was chosen. Walking up, however, he stops. The old dusty windows show his reflection, a broken and strange man who barely even recognized himself anymore. His dress shirt was wrinkled and open, the black tank top underneath clinging to his body as sweat made the material damp. His once nice slacks were replaced with jeans, torn in a couple places from recent fights he had found himself in when traveling out to get food. He looked horrible and felt more ashamed the more he stared at himself with tired and lifeless eyes. Shaking his head and taking a breath in, he continues into the old store.

 Cobwebs and dust clutter the building, along with trash and insects. Sandayu can feel his skin crawl as he travels deeper into the outlet, scanning all he can. Nothing comes back useful and he searches every nook and cranny. Old books, candy wrappers, cans and bottles, some paper bags that once contained food. But as he travels further back, he finally spots it. Large double doors and seem to lead to a second level. Anxiety picks up as he walks forward, pushing one of the doors open and listening intently.

Good End:

The sound of soft footsteps catch his attention as he travels down the old stairs. His heart leaps when he sees Goro at the bottom, standing in front of a counter, his back facing him. He looked in better shape than Sandayu, his own dress shirt still pristine as he picks up a shot glass, knocking back the contents. Gathering his courage, Sandayu stands at the bottom of the stairs, hands in tight fists as he inhales deeply.

“Takemura-sama!” he calls out. Goro jumps, eyes wide as he whips around, pistol at the ready. His stance falters as he eyes at the younger man, who’s bowing deeply before him. “Please, forgive me!”

“Oda…?” Setting down the weapon, Goro straightens himself, even daring to walk a few steps forward as Sandayu picks himself back up.

“I have not only failed Hanako-Sama,” he continues, “but I have failed you as my mentor. Please, forgive me. I was not enough.”

 The two stand in silence, Sandayu searching Goro’s face, desperately trying to find out what was going on through the man’s head. Finally, Goro sighs, coming forward to gently grasp his shoulder.

“You should not apologize, Oda-san,” he sighs. He gets ready to fire back, insist that he did, but Goro cut him off. “When Saburo-sama was killed, I was filled with deep regret. To have failed my only duty when I could have prevented it. I think about everything I could have done differently every day.”

 Sandayu stands there, listening intently. They hadn’t spoken since their last meeting at the docks, and he had never heard of the man’s anguish until now. How he described everything… it’s exactly how he felt now.

“Sometimes, things happen. And we cannot stop it,” he goes on, leading him over to the counter. An opened bottle of sake sits next to the shot glass, and Goro fills it up, offering it to him. “Saburo-sama was to be killed, and I could not stop it. What happened at Arasaka… you could not stop it, Oda-san. It was, how one would say, “the hand they were dealt”. And we must accept that.”

“Arasaka was everything to me…” He stares down at the contents in the glass, his grip tightening. “And it just-”

“I understand,” He glances up, though Goro’s gaze is focused on the bottle in front of him, staring at it with distant focus. “I have… been reading a lot of jisei as of late, and have found peace in some of them.”

“Takemura-sama,” That’s when he notices it. A small wooden box a few feet away, the top open to reveal an old looking tantō. He feels his blood run cold.

“Just like you, Arasaka was all I had,” he continues, finally bringing himself to look at the younger man. “but you have nothing to apologize to me for, Sandayu. You were the most brilliant outcome of my entire career.”

 With one last glance to the tantō, Sandayu slams the glass down and envelopes Goro in a tight embrace. The man catches himself, steadying his balance as he slowly brings his arms up, wrapping them around the younger man. They stay like that for a while, the silence almost deafening.

“What do we do now, Takemura-sama?” Sandayu finally asks, his voice soft as he slowly pulls away. Goro sighs, but gives him a small smile.

“We take time and heal,” he tells him. Turning, he shuts the lid of the box before picking up the shot glass, knocking back the sake. “I believe it would be easier to do it together. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes.”

Bad End:

 There’s nothing but the sound of his own footsteps, and for a moment, he’s worried all of his hard work had gone to waste. Maybe Goro wasn’t here? Maybe he had made a mistake somewhere, his exhaustion causing him to be faulty in his search. But as he reaches the bottom of the stairs and starts for the next set, he stops. No.

“Takemura-sama!” Sandayu’s voice is shrill as he cries out his master’s name, nearly falling down the cement steps as he rushes over to the man. Goro was here, alright. And Sandayu was too late. The man was laying on his side in a puddle of his own blood, a few pieces of paper sprawled out around him. He sobs as he kneels beside the man, pulling him up and into his lap, his eyes glazed over and his body limp. He caresses his face, incoherently speaking to the man, pleading for him to come back. The only person he felt he had left in this world was currently laying dead in his lap, his hair having been taken out of its bun and the ends soaked in the crimson water.

“Goro, please!” he cries loudly, shaking the man, slapping his cheek, trying anything to make him come back. “Do not leave me! I need you! You have always been there for me, so why not now?!” He stops for a moment, unable to look away from the older man. His body was still warm. Had he been sooner… “… Why couldn’t I be there for you?”

Taking Goro’s hand in his own, he gives it a tight squeeze, trying to calm himself. He finally looks around at the papers that were scattered across the floor, scanning them. All appeared to be jisei and it made his stomach churn. The bloody tantō lies a few inches away from him, and it just fuels his slowly burning rage. Why couldn’t he had been faster? Was he already dead by the time he parked the motorcycle? Should he have called out for the man?

Instead of getting up and trashing the place like his body screamed to do, he instead leans his head down, pressing his forehead to Goro’s and closing his eyes. He speaks internally, and he speaks fast, stumbling over words as he still heaves shaky breaths. He hopes the man can, somehow, somewhere, hear what he’s saying. How he asks for him to forgive his failures and how he thanks him for all he had taught him. He apologizes for their last meeting, and he tells him how he longed for them to just a day together.

Finally, he gently lowers Goro back to the ground, closing the man’s eyes and admiring him. He finally looked like he was at peace, his muscles relaxed and for once his eyebrows weren’t knitted together. He picks up one of the poems, wondering what was going through Goro’s head in his last moments. None of the poems resembled his handwriting, leaving him to wonder what his jisei would’ve read. Setting the paper down, he looks over to the tantō. All throughout his apprenticeship, he had followed in Goro’s footsteps exactly. And as he stands here now, he wonders: Should I continue to?

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CV (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: I’m so lost idk in which day of the week I’m living and the posting schedule for this thing is a mess in wattpad and Ao3 h e l p -Danny

Words: 5,117

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘I Wanna Get Better’ -By Bleachers

Chapter Three: The Order of the Phoenix.

"Hold it!" Ron stopped them before they could continue their walk towards the kitchen. "They're still in the hall, we might be able to hear something —"

The gloomy hallway below was packed with witches and wizards, including all of Harry's guard. They were whispering excitedly together. In the very centre of the group, Harry saw the dark, greasy-haired head and prominent nose of his least favourite teacher at Hogwarts, Professor Snape. Harry leaned farther over the bannisters. He was very interested in what Snape was doing for the Order of the Phoenix...

A thin piece of flesh-coloured string descended in front of Harry's eyes. Looking up he saw Fred and George on the landing above, cautiously lowering the Extendable Ear toward the dark knot of people below. A moment later, however, they began to move toward the front door and out of sight.

"Dammit," Harry heard Fred whisper, as he hoisted the Extendable Ear back up again.

They heard the front door open and then close.

"Snape never eats here... Thank God. C'mon."

"And don't forget to keep your voice down in the hall, Harry," Hermione whispered.

"We're eating down in the kitchen," Mrs Weasley told them in a hushed voice. "Harry, dear, if you'll just tiptoe across the hall, it's through this door here —"

CRASH.

"Tonks!"

"I'm sorry! It's that stupid umbrella stand, that's the second time I've tripped over —"

"Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers —"

"Ah yes, that's the evening bell to announce dinner," Mel said with an ironic smile.

"Shut up, you horrible old hag, shut up!" Sirius grabbed the curtain and attempted to hide the portrait unsuccessfully.

"Yoooou!" The woman shouted. "Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh!"

"I said — shut — UP!"

Lupin grabbed the other end and both men closed it tightly.

"Hello, Harry," Sirius said, more calmly this time. "I see you've met my mother."

"Your— ?"

"My dear old mum, yeah. We've been trying to get her down for a month but we think she put a Permanent Sticking Charm on the back of the canvas. Let's get downstairs, quick, before they all wake up again."

"But what's a portrait of your mother doing here?"

"Hasn't anyone told you? This was my parents' house," said Sirius, looking at Mel briefly. "But I'm the last Black left, so it's mine now. I offered it to Dumbledore for headquarters — about the only useful thing I've been able to do."

It was scarcely less gloomy than the hall above, a cavernous room with rough stone walls. Most of the light was coming from a large fire at the far end of the room. A haze of pipe smoke hung in the air like battle fumes, through which loomed the menacing shapes of heavy iron pots and pans hanging from the dark ceiling. Many chairs had been crammed into the room for the meeting and a long wooden table stood in the middle of the room, littered with rolls of parchment, goblets, empty wine bottles, and a heap of what appeared to be rags. Mr Weasley and his eldest son, Bill, were talking quietly with their heads together at the end of the table.

Mrs Weasley cleared her throat. Her husband, a thin, balding, redhaired man, who wore horn-rimmed glasses, looked around and jumped to his feet.

"Harry! Good to see you!"

"Journey all right, Harry?" Bill called, picking up some parchments before Mel could see what was written in them. "Mad-Eye didn't make you come via Greenland, then?"

"He tried," said Tonks dropping a candle onto the last parchment. "Oh no — sorry —"

"Here, dear," said Mrs Weasley, fixing it quickly. "This sort of thing ought to be cleared away promptly at the end of meetings..."

"Evanesco!" Bill exclaimed, and the papers vanished.

"Sit down, Harry. You've met Mundungus, haven't you?"

"Some'n say m' name? I 'gree with Sirius..." Mundungus mumbled in his sleep.

Mel and Ginny laughed, waking him up.

"The meeting's over, Dung... Harry's arrived."

"Eh? Blimey, so 'e 'as. Yeah... you all right, 'arry?"

"Yeah."

Mundungus fumbled nervously in his pockets, still staring at Harry, and pulled out a grimy black pipe. He stuck it in his mouth, ignited the end of it with his wand, and took a deep pull on it. Great billowing clouds of greenish smoke obscured him in seconds.

"Owe you a 'pology," grunted a voice from the middle of the smelly cloud.

"For the last time, Mundungus," called Mrs Weasley, "will you please not smoke that thing in the kitchen, especially not when we're about to eat!"

"Ah," said Mundungus. "Right. Sorry, Molly."

"Harry!"

Emily rushed over to the boy, smothering him with kisses and trying to brush his hair. Harry blushed furiously and tried to escape from her grip, but she kept him in place.

"You look so skinny! Don't worry, you'll be looking charming as a prince in no time," Emily tugged at his shirt. "We need to fix these– " When Harry stood up again, she gasped. "Merlin, you've grown!"

Harry was looking eye to eye at her for the first time in fifteen years. Least to say Emily didn't take it well.

"My little boy!" She teared up. "Not so little now... even taller than Mel! Oh, you look so much like James!"

"Mothers..." Mel rolled her eyes, but the woman ignored her.

"Never seen her like that before," Sirius whispered to her. "She used to be so tough... now look at her, crying over a kid's height!"

Mel grinned, catching the way Sirius was beaming at her mother.

"Mum, let him breathe," Mel stepped in, pulling her away gently. "I think you need a moment, sit down..."

"If you want dinner before midnight I'll need a hand," Mrs Weasley told them. "No, you can stay where you are, Harry dear, you've had a long journey —"

"What can I do, Molly?" said Tonks.

"Er — no, it's all right, Tonks, you have a rest too, you've done enough today —"

"No, no, I want to help!"

"I'll help, my mum's having a crisis," Mel teased.

As she started to set the plates on the table, she heard the adults continue their talk.

"Had a good summer so far?"

"No, it's been lousy," Harry retorted.

"Don't know what you're complaining about, myself."

"What?"

"Personally, I'd have welcomed a dementor attack. A deadly struggle for my soul would have broken the monotony nicely. You think you've had it bad, at least you've been able to get out and about, stretch your legs, get into a few fights... I've been stuck inside for a month."

"Didn't know my company was such a torment," Mel replied without looking up.

"How come?" Harry asked.

"Because the Ministry of Magic's still after me, and Voldemort will know all about me being an Animagus by now, Wormtail will have told him, so my big disguise is useless. There's not much I can do for the Order of the Phoenix... or so Dumbledore feels– I didn't mean I'm not having fun with you, little Em," He added out loud. "I just... yeah, I know I could be doing more..."

"At least you've known what's been going on."

"Oh yeah! Listening to Snape's reports, having to take all his snide hints that he's out there risking his life while I'm sat on my backside here having a nice comfortable time... asking me how the cleaning's going —"

"Snape's a twat," Mel said as she settled a plate in front of Sirius, "you shouldn't take it personally, it's like hearing a seven-year-old showing off."

"What cleaning?" Harry asked them.

"Trying to make this place fit for human habitation– No one's lived here for ten years, not since my dear mother died, unless you count her old house-elf, and he's gone round the twist, hasn't cleaned anything in ages —"

"Sirius? This solid silver, mate?" Mundungus said, examining a small goblet.

"Ye... Finest fifteenth-century goblin-wrought silver, embossed with the Black family crest."

"That'd come off, though," muttered Mundungus.

"Keep your filthy paws away from it, Dung," Emily kicked him under the table.

"Fred — George — NO, JUST CARRY THEM!"

Harry, Sirius, and Mundungus looked around and, a split second later, dived away from the table. Fred and George had bewitched a large cauldron of stew, an iron flagon of butterbeer, and a heavy wooden breadboard, complete with knife, to hurtle through the air toward them. The stew skidded the length of the table and came to a halt just before the end, leaving a long black burn on the wooden surface, the flagon of butterbeer fell with a crash, spilling its contents everywhere, and the bread knife slipped off the board and landed, point down and quivering ominously, exactly where Sirius's right hand had been seconds before.

Mel managed to retreat barely on time and hissed when the knife touched her skin briefly.

"FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE! THERE WAS NO NEED — I'VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS — JUST BECAUSE YOU'RE ALLOWED TO USE MAGIC NOW YOU DON'T HAVE TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERY TINY LITTLE THING!"

"We were just trying to save a bit of time!" said Fred, running into the room and grabbing the knife. "Sorry Sirius, mate — didn't mean to —" He stared at Mel, who was holding the patch of skin where the knife cut.

Emily and Sirius were laughing, not noticing she'd gotten hurt. Mundungus was on the floor. Harry, however, was touching his hand in the exact same place her cut was.

"I'm sorry, Lady!" Fred left the knife on the table and examined her hand. "Blimey– let me see..."

"What happened?" Emily stood up.

"I'm okay," She quickly pushed the boy and her mother out of the way to wash her injury. "Just a scratch..."

"Boys, your mother's right, you're supposed to show a sense of responsibility now that you're—"

"— none of your brothers caused this sort of trouble! Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't Charm everything he met! Percy —"

"Let's eat!" said Bill abruptly.

"It looks wonderful, Molly," said Lupin.

"Let me see, Mel!" Fred insisted.

The girl noticed Harry was staring and turned away hastily.

"I'm fine. Don't worry."

"Tough girl like her mother!" Exclaimed Sirius happily.

"I've been meaning to tell you, there's something trapped in that writing desk in the drawing-room, it keeps rattling and shaking. Of course, it could just be a boggart, but I thought we ought to ask Alastor to have a look at it before we let it out."

"Whatever you like," said Sirius.

"The curtains in there are full of doxies too, I thought we might try and tackle them tomorrow."

"I look forward to it," said Sirius sarcastically. Emily slapped his arm mumbling 'Behave!'

Mel was chatting with Mundungus, the twins, and Ron. Dung wasn't exactly of her liking, but the boys made him tolerable enough.

"...and then, if you'll believe it, 'e says to me, 'e says, ' 'ere, Dung, where didja get all them toads from? 'Cos some son of a Bludger's gone and nicked all mine!' And I says, 'Nicked all your toads, Will, what next? So you'll be wanting some more, then?' And if you'll believe me, lads, the gormless gargoyle buys all 'is own toads back orf me for twice what 'e paid in the first place —"

"I don't think we need to hear any more of your business dealings, thank you very much, Mundungus," said Mrs Weasley over Ron's cackles.

"Beg pardon, Molly, but, you know, Will nicked 'em orf Warty Harris in the first place so I wasn't really doing nothing wrong —"

"I don't know where you learned about right and wrong, Mundungus, but you seem to have missed a few crucial lessons."

Fred and George buried their faces behind their goblets, Mel sent an innocent smile to her mother. She didn't know why, but she was feeling keener to do mischief than years prior. Maybe that was the result of spending so much time around the twins.

"How come you're not all over Harry?" George asked her quietly. "You're sitting with us after so long without hearing from him..."

"Don't nag about that," She rolled her eyes. "Fred already asked me. Stop it or you'll wake up to a dead rat on your pillow."

"I'll stop asking if you promise that I'll wake up to you on my pillow," Fred winked at her, which caused her to blush.

"Don't even think about it," She replied, making a face.

"Nearly time for bed, I think," said Mrs Weasley.

"Not just yet, Molly," Sirius took a deep breath. "You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort."

Mel snorted, she felt the sudden change in the room, but she didn't care about being the only one who found it funny.

"You think he didn't? He went mad upstairs!" She exclaimed.

"I did!" said Harry, then threw a grumpy look her way. "Not the part about going mad, but I asked Ron and Hermione, they said we're not allowed in the Order, so —"

"And they're quite right. You're too young." Said Mrs Weasley.

"Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions? Harry's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happen —"

"Sirius..." Emily started.

"Hang on!" interrupted George.

"How come Harry gets his questions answered?" said Fred.

"We've been trying to get stuff out of you for a month and you haven't told us a single stinking thing!" said George.

"'You're too young, you're not in the Order,'" Fred imitated his mother's voice. "Harry's not even of age!"

Mel looked around the table with disinterest, of course Harry was going to have all the answers he wanted. What was worse, she'd started to realize how much she'd felt his absence. And she hated that, she hadn't understood exactly how badly she was missing her best friend until he was standing in front of her.

"It's not my fault you haven't been told what the Order's doing. That's your parents' decision. Harry, on the other hand —"

"It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry! You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?"

"Which bit?"

"The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know!"

"I don't intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly, but as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back he has more right than most to —"

"He's not a member of the Order of the Phoenix! He's only fifteen and —"

"— and he's dealt with as much as most in the Order, and more than some —"

"No one's denying what he's done! But he's still —"

"He's not a child!"

"He's not an adult either! He's not James, Sirius!"

Mel saw the way her mother's face paled at the remark, that had to be a sensitive subject.

"I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly."

"I'm not sure you are! Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it's as though you think you've got your best friend back!"

"What's wrong with that?" Harry pouted.

For the first time in weeks, Mel felt something else besides resentment towards the boy. Harry needed Sirius, he wanted to be as important as his father. She couldn't blame Sirius for seeing James in Harry, not when sometimes she would catch herself thinking of her own father when looking at Sirius.

"What's wrong, Harry, is that you are not your father, however much you might look like him! You are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it!"

"Meaning I'm an irresponsible godfather?"

"Meaning you've been known to act rashly, Sirius, which is why Dumbledore keeps reminding you to stay at home and —"

"We'll leave my instructions from Dumbledore out of this, if you please!"

"Arthur! Arthur, back me up!"

"Dumbledore knows the position has changed, Molly. He accepts that Harry will have to be filled in to a certain extent now that he is staying at headquarters —"

"Yes, but there's a difference between that and inviting him to ask whatever he likes! Emily!"

The woman gave a start, but she spoke with confidence.

"Harry is as smart as they make 'em. He's brave and he knows this is not a game. I've seen this kid grow and I like to think I've brought him up a little, I can give you my word that knowing won't put him in danger..."

"Personally," said Lupin, leaning further on his place. "I think it better that Harry gets the facts — not all the facts, Molly, but the general picture — from us, rather than a garbled version from... others. Emily's got a point, she's been with him for the longest time, if there's someone on this table that gets to decide apart from Harry, that's her."

"Well," said Mrs Weasley, positively fuming. "I can see I'm going to be overruled. I'll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has got Harry's best interests at heart —"

"He's not your son," Sirius mumbled under his breath.

"He's as good as!" Mrs Weasley yelled. "Who else has he got?"

"He's got me! He's got Emily!"

"Yes," said Mrs Weasley. "The thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked up in Azkaban, hasn't it? And not too sound rude, Emily dear, but you had no control over Harry's life when he was a baby and you still have none. You have your hands full with Mel."

Sirius tried to stand up but Emily pulled him back down.

"Molly, you're not the only person at this table who cares about Harry," said Lupin, sounding a bit annoyed. "Sirius, calm down. I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this, he's old enough to decide for himself."

"I think we've talked enough about him as if he weren't present," Emily nodded.

"I want to know what's been going on," Harry said immediately.

"Very well," said Mrs Weasley. "You six — I want you out of this kitchen, now."

"We're of age!" Fred and George.

"If Harry's allowed, why can't I?" Ron exclaimed.

"Mum, I want to!" Ginny demanded.

Mel and Emily shared a look, the woman knew there was no point attempting to send her daughter away. Mel knew she didn't have to ask.

"NO! I absolutely forbid —"

"Molly, you can't stop Fred and George... They are of age —"

"They're still at school —"

"But they're legally adults now," Arthur said tiredly.

"Mel can stay," Emily replied, then she added coldly. "I don't need to have control over anything my daughter does to know that she'll treat the information with discretion."

"I — oh, all right then, Fred and George can stay, but Ron —"

"Mel and Harry'll tell me and Hermione everything you say anyway!" Ron hesitated, looking at Harry with doubt. "Won't — won't you?"

" 'Course I will," Harry said casually. Mel nodded.

"Fine!" Mrs Weasley put the plates away angrily. "Fine! Ginny — BED!"

After a few minutes of putting everything away, Lupin asked him:

"Okay, Harry... what do you want to know?"

"Where's Voldemort? What's he doing? I've been trying to watch the Muggle news and there hasn't been anything that looks like him yet, no funny deaths or anything —"

"That's because there haven't been any suspicious deaths yet," said Sirius, "not as far as we know, anyway... And we know quite a lot."

"More than he thinks we do anyway," said Lupin.

"How come he's stopped killing people?"

"Because he doesn't want to draw attention to himself at the moment. It would be dangerous for him. His comeback didn't come off quite the way he wanted it to, you see. He messed it up."

"Or rather, you messed it up for him," Lupin smiled a bit.

"How?"

"You weren't supposed to survive! Nobody apart from his Death Eaters was supposed to know he'd come back. But you survived to bear witness."

"And the very last person he wanted alerted to his return the moment he got back was Dumbledore, and you made sure Dumbledore knew at once," Lupin looked at her. "With your help."

Fred and George looked at her without understanding. She hadn't mentioned to any of her friends the lifeline connection, how could she, without giving away the reason for her fight with Harry?

"How has that helped?" Harry asked.

"Are you kidding?" said Bill, answering Harry's question. "Dumbledore was the only one You-Know-Who was ever scared of!"

"Thanks to you, Dumbledore was able to recall the Order of the Phoenix about an hour after Voldemort returned," said Sirius.

"He doesn't know how, but he definitely knows you helped, Mel," Emily's face was grim. "Apparently, there are tons of rumours about you already, some are as far fetched as to say that you're the next Merlin, others just say you were at the right place at the right time– Either way, he knows there's more than one Dumbledore after him, and he thinks you're the easiest target to defeat."

Mel felt the urge to run and hide under her bed, but she remained still, her eyes fixed on her mum. She thought, kind of bitterly, that Harry's attempts to keep her safe were of no use, and taking away the only thing that was making them happy was a huge mistake. But she wasn't going to admit that out loud, she would pretend everything was fine on her side for as long as she could.

"So what's the Order been doing?" said Harry, after a moment of awful silence.

"Working as hard as we can to make sure Voldemort can't carry out his plans," said Sirius.

"How d'you know what his plans are?"

"Dumbledore's got a shrewd idea," said Lupin, "and Dumbledores shrewd ideas normally turn out to be accurate... as we've witnessed more than once."

"So what does Dumbledore reckon he's planning?"

"Well, firstly, he wants to build up his army again, in the old days he had huge numbers at his command; witches and wizards he'd bullied or bewitched into following him, his faithful Death Eaters, a great variety of Dark creatures. You heard him planning to recruit the giants; well, they'll be just one group he's after. He's certainly not going to try and take on the Ministry of Magic with only a dozen Death Eaters."

"So you're trying to stop him getting more followers?"

"We're doing our best," said Lupin.

"How?"

"Well, the main thing is to try and convince as many people as possible that You-Know-Who really has returned, to put them on their guard," said Bill. "It's proving tricky, though."

"Some others have also reached to a different area," Emily smiled at her. "Erick and Eliot have been writing to me, they're doing what they can with the pureblood families they know aren't as keen to see Voldemort's comeback. So far they haven't got lots of people, and of course, Erick tries to talk to the young groups, but they aren't that willing to believe him."

"Why?"

"Because of the Ministry's attitude," said Tonks. "You saw Cornelius Fudge after You-Know-Who came back, Harry. Well, he hasn't shifted his position at all. He's absolutely refusing to believe it's happened."

"But why? Why's he being so stupid? If Dumbledore —"

"Ah, well, you've put your finger on the problem," said Mr Weasley giving her a pointed look. "The Dumbledores."

"Fudge is frightened, you see," said Tonks.

"Frightened of Dumbledore?" said Harry incredulously. "And Mel?"

"Frightened of what they're up to," said Mr Weasley. "You see, Fudge thinks Dumbledore's plotting to overthrow him. He thinks Dumbledore wants to be Minister of Magic."

"But Dumbledore doesn't want —"

"Of course he doesn't– He's never wanted the Minister's job, even though a lot of people wanted him to take it when Millicent Bagnold retired. Fudge came to power instead, but he's never quite forgotten how much popular support Dumbledore had, even though Dumbledore never applied for the job."

"Deep down, Fudge knows Dumbledore's much cleverer than he is, a much more powerful wizard, and in the early days of his Ministry he was forever asking Dumbledore for help and advice," Lupin added. "But it seems that he's become fond of power now, and much more confident. He loves being Minister of Magic, and he's managed to convince himself that he's the clever one and Dumbledore's simply stirring up trouble for the sake of it."

"How can he think that? How can he think Dumbledore would just make it all up — that I'd make it all up?"

"Because accepting that Voldemort's back would mean trouble like the Ministry hasn't had to cope with for nearly fourteen years," said Sirius. "Fudge just can't bring himself to face it. It's so much more comfortable to convince himself Dumbledore's lying to destabilize him. He also somehow found out that Mel was having extra lessons with Dumbledore, though I guess that wasn't a secret. He thinks he's preparing her to be his secret weapon so they can take over."

"You see the problem," said Lupin. "While the Ministry insists there is nothing to fear from Voldemort, it's hard to convince people he's back, especially as they really don't want to believe it in the first place. What's more, the Ministry's leaning heavily on the Daily Prophet not to report any of what they're calling Dumbledore's rumormongering, so most of the Wizarding community are completely unaware anything's happened, and that makes them easy targets for the Death Eaters if they're using the Imperius Curse."

"But you're telling people, aren't you? You're letting people know he's back?"

"Well, as everyone thinks I'm a mad mass murderer and the Ministry's put a ten-thousand-Galleon price on my head, I can hardly stroll up the street and start handing out leaflets, can I?" said Sirius bitterly.

"And I'm not a very popular dinner guest with most of the community," said Lupin. "It's an occupational hazard of being a werewolf."

Emily reached for Lupin's hand and gave a gentle squeeze to it.

"I'm all right, I guess..." She sighed. "But my husband was a Dumbledore, they think I'm just trying to keep his name clean."

"Tonks and Arthur would lose their jobs at the Ministry if they started shooting their mouths off, and it's very important for us to have spies inside the Ministry, because you can bet Voldemort will have them."

"We've managed to convince a couple of people, though. Tonks here, for one — she's too young to have been in the Order of the Phoenix last time, and having Aurors on our side is a huge advantage — Kingsley Shacklebolt's been a real asset too. He's in charge of the hunt for Sirius, so he's been feeding the Ministry information that Sirius is in Tibet."

"But if none of you's putting the news out that Voldemort's back —"

"Who said none of us was putting the news out? Why d'you think Dumbledore's in such trouble?"

"What d'you mean?"

"They're trying to discredit him," said Lupin. "Didn't you see the Daily Prophet last week? They reported that he'd been voted out of the Chairmanship of the International Confederation of Wizards because he's getting old and losing his grip, but it's not true, he was voted out by Ministry wizards after he made a speech announcing Voldemort's return. They've demoted him from Chief Warlock on the Wizengamot — that's the Wizard High Court — and they're talking about taking away his Order of Merlin, First Class, too."

"But Dumbledore says he doesn't care what they do as long as they don't take him off the Chocolate Frog cards," said Bill fondly.

"It's no laughing matter. If he carries on defying the Ministry like this, he could end up in Azkaban and the last thing we want is Dumbledore locked up. While You-Know-Who knows Dumbledore's out there and wise to what he's up to, he's going to go cautiously for a while. If Dumbledore's out of the way — well, You-Know-Who will have a clear field."

"But if Voldemort's trying to recruit more Death Eaters, it's bound to get out that he's come back, isn't it?"

"Voldemort doesn't march up to people's houses and bang on their front doors, Harry. He tricks, jinxes, and blackmails them. He's well-practised at operating in secrecy. In any case, gathering followers is only one thing he's interested in, he's got other plans too, plans he can put into operation very quietly indeed, and he's concentrating on them at the moment."

Voldemort was after her, and Fudge was after her as well? She certainly wasn't afraid of the latter, but it worried her, she didn't like being watched at all times; if her uncle ended locked up in Azkaban, she and Harry would be the next.

Harry was known to be stubborn and unable to shut his mouth whenever he was strongly against something. She couldn't have that, she needed him to follow orders as much as her because if he were to break the rules, people would immediately assume she was doing the same, if she wanted to remain safe for the rest of the year, Mel needed to change that.

"What's he after apart from followers?"

"Stuff he can only get by stealth... Like a weapon. Something he didn't have last time."

"When he was powerful before?"

"Yes."

"Like what kind of weapon? Something worse than the Avada Kedavra — ?"

"That's enough. I want you in bed, now. All of you," Mrs Weasley demanded.

"You can't boss us —"

"Watch me! You've given Harry plenty of information, Sirius. Any more and you might just as well induct him into the Order straightaway."

"Why not? I'll join, I want to join, I want to fight —"

"No," said Lupin and Mel.

Harry stared at her, but Lupin spoke, catching his attention.

"The Order is comprised only of overage wizards– Wizards who have left school. There are dangers involved of which you can have no idea, any of you... I think Molly's right, Sirius– Mily... We've said enough."

"Time's up, kids," Emily stood up. "That's all you'll hear from us."

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha​ @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere​ @t-rexs-world

[hookedonapirate]

Miss Fix-It

Summary: Miracle worker. Relationship Guru. Savior. 

Those are just a few of her monikers, but most people have taken to call her Miss Fix-It. Helping broken-hearted women get back together with their former boyfriends is her specialty. How does she do it, you ask? Simple—she becomes his date from hell so he’ll realize what a catch he had before he let her go.

Emma Swan is an expert at fixing relationships, it’s just too bad she’ll never have one of her own. 

Her particular set of talents is put to the test, however, when a cheating ex-girlfriend requests her services. Emma’s reluctant at first. It’s not an easy task to make someone seem like a catch when they’ve cheated, but the potential client is an emotional wreck desperate to get her former boyfriend back before he heads back to England. Besides, Emma Swan never backs down from a challenge. They don’t call her Miss Fix-It for nothing. She’ll find a way to make him wish he was back in his ex-girlfriend’s arms, no matter what it takes. If only she can squash the feelings she develops for him and stop breaking her rules.

A/N: I know, I know, I shouldn't be starting any more stories, but I was rewatching a movie I saw a long time ago, starring David Boreanaz, called Mr. Fix-It and I had to write my own version of it. I also did a gender swap because David's character was just too Emma Swan to not write it that way. So this is pretty much My Best Friend"s Girl meets How to Lose a Guy in 10 days. I was originally going to write this for Captain Swan Movie Marathon, but I just couldn't help myself or wait to share it! Some of the ideas in the story regarding relationships and love may seem stretched for the purposes of this fic, so please keep in mind, this is only fiction. 

A big shout out to @ultraluckycatnd​ for beta reading and to @onceuponaprincessworld​ for letting me share my ideas with her!

Chapter 1

“Thank you.” There’s a rare appreciation in Emma’s tone as she steps inside, offering up a slight smile at the stranger holding the door open for her. 

“You’re welcome,” he replies with a downward nod, his smile mirroring hers. 

He’s easy on the eyes and evidently a gentleman, doting on the pretty brunette attached at his arm who’s neither surprised nor offended by the polite gesture he’s offering another woman. Or at least, she doesn’t appear to be. 

Emma looks back, peering through the glass doors to admire the happy couple as they make their way down the sidewalk. The man places his hand on his date’s back as he kisses her temple, and the woman leans into him, resting her head on his shoulder. Emma smiles at the palpable love and affection they show each other before disappearing from her view.

Sometimes Emma wonders what it would be like to have something like that. But then the reality bomb explodes in her face, reminding her of the love she’d lost, the love that ruined her life. She’s reminded that she’s just a lonely twenty-eight-year-old who’s never truly been happy. Well, she was once, but it was too short-lived to count for anything. The memories make her stomach churn, her smile quickly fading into a frown. 

Shaking the thoughts away, she spins around on her heels, her bright, fire red stilettos clicking on the floor, golden curls bouncing around her shoulders as she looks around, searching for the dining area. She doesn’t need the hard work, the sacrifice or the baggage that tends to accompany relationships. She doesn’t need the heartache. Which is why she’s here at Juliet. The name of the restaurant is a bit ironic, though, considering she’s no Juliet, nor is she looking for her Romeo. 

Her eyes circle around the dining area until she spots the man she immediately recognizes from the photo. His face is buried in his phone but he has the same brown, curly hair and handsome profile. 

Emma approaches his table with slow, uncertain steps, an apprehensive expression etched in her features. “Graham?” 

He peers up from his phone, his eyes immediately lighting up when he sees her. He springs up from his seat to greet her and sticks out his hand, flashing an easy smile. “Emma…”

His cologne is a little too strong and she almost chokes on the vapors as she slips on a smile and slides her palm in his. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he greets in a warm tone as he shakes her hand. His grip is timid and shaky, and his palm is a bit sweaty, but she can tell he’s nervous, so it’s par for the course. “Wow, you look...” his words trail off when he releases her hand, his eyes moving up and down to appreciate her form, “...much prettier than I expected.” 

“And you’re more handsome than I expected,” she compliments with a cheeky grin. “Photos from the internet can often be—”

“Fake? Outdated? Photoshopped?” he says, pulling out a chair for her.

“Exactly,” she laughs and sits down, scooting her chair up to the table as he reclaims the seat across from her. She sets her clutch purse on the table and can’t help but notice the booth to the right, where a couple is sitting on the same side of their table. She hates when couples sit on the same side of the table at a restaurant; it’s just sketchy and weird. The only time this should be acceptable or appropriate is if they were on a double date. But this couple is clearly not. The man is cozied up comfortably with his date—who, not to mention, appears to be half his age—with his right arm wrapped around her as he whispers in her ear, the wedding band on his left hand resting on the table, glinting in the soft, luminous light. Emma can’t tell if his date is also wearing a ring or not, because she’s sitting on the other side of him, but it’s highly unlikely. She looks too young to be married, but then again Emma was only eighteen when she eloped. That’s a different story for another time though.

“What would you like to drink?” the waitress asks, pulling Emma from her reverie.

Feeling a desperate need for some liquid courage, she peels her eyes from the couple to address the waitress. “I’d love some Moscato, please.” Even in her early twenties, she never drank wine or any alcohol really, but then she discovered its value as a social lubricant and how much easier it is to perform her job when she drinks, so she forced herself to develop a taste for it.

When the waitress leaves to fetch the bottle, Emma rests her hands in her lap as she kicks off the conversation. “So, tell me, what do you do for a living, Graham?” 

Graham places his arms on the table and joins his hands together, his nervous demeanor melting away. “I’m a police officer, hoping to be a detective someday.” 

“Hm,” Emma hums in genuine interest. “A detective, huh? So, you must be good at solving crimes, then? What can you tell me about the couple at the table next to us?” she asks, nodding toward them.

“I said,  someday,”  Graham chuckles. “I’m no Sherlock Holmes, but I’ll humor you. The man is either cheating or just recently divorced,” he says, without even glancing at the other table. 

“How can you tell?”

“For one, spouses don’t sit next to each other at a restaurant, they sit across from each other and gaze into each other’s eyes and wait to cuddle up on the sofa in the privacy of their own home like normal people. And two, he has a ring on his finger, but she doesn’t.”

Emma turns her head and stretches her neck, trying to see over the man. “How can you tell she’s not wearing a ring?”

“I noticed when they sat down. Besides, she looks young enough to be his daughter, she’s way too young to be married.”

“I know, right?” Emma agrees with a strained laugh, pointing a finger at him. “You’re going to make a fine detective one day, Officer Graham.”

He blushes, a nervous laugh escaping his throat as the waitress returns. After she drops off the requested bottle of wine, Emma brings the wine glass to her lips, appreciating the heady fragrance and the well-balanced mixture of sweetness and bitterness on her tongue as the liquid glides down her throat. “What about you, Emma? What do you do for a living?”

“I fix up houses,” she answers simply, setting her glass on the table.

“Ah, so you’re like a handyman, then?”

“Handywoman,” she corrects. “My dream is to start my own reality show like the Property Brothers.”

He lifts a flirty brow. “A woman who’s good with her hands? I like that.” 

Emma blushes and holds up her open palms, a sly grin curving her lips. “Believe me, I’ve worked wonders with these things.” 

“I don’t doubt that,” he says with a smirk, shifting in his seat. “So, how did you get into that line of work?”

“When I was eight, I got bored one day, so my grandpa gave me a hammer and told me to go play.” 

Graham looks at her, wide-eyed, his jaw falling open.

Emma laughs. “I’m joking. My grandparents were house flippers long before house flipping became popular and they’re the ones who raised me, so handiwork sort of became second nature to me.”

“Ah, I see,” he says before taking a sip of what she determines is whiskey, based on its distinct, yeasty smell and amber-brown liquid.

“So, tell me, Graham, if you don’t mind me asking—how is a guy like you single?”

He chuckles and sets down the tumbler, rejoining his hands on the table. “Well. I’ll be honest, Emma, I have a fear of commitment.”

Emma raises a brow toward her hairline. “Oh really? I have to say, based on your Zoosk profile, you strike me as a guy who’s into something more than a casual fling.”

Graham reaches for his drink again and curls his hand around the glass as he stares vacantly into the tumbler. “Well, I used to think I could be in a serious relationship. I was dating this woman I really liked, but things just went way too fast.” He glances at Emma, guilt clouding his face. “She talked about getting married and having kids, and I’m just not ready for all that yet. I’m still young, you know?” he says before taking a sip of his drink.

Emma nods in understanding and crosses her arms on the table, leaning toward him. “Well, since you felt comfortable sharing that with me, can I let you in on a little secret?”

Setting his drink down, he mirrors her position and leans over the table so their faces are only a few inches apart. “Of course.”

“I don’t do commitments either. I don’t like to be tied down…” a cheeky grin overtakes her face as she adds, “well unless I’m being tied down in bed. I like to live in the moment.”

He smirks, discernibly aroused by her confession. “Well, then we want the same thing.”

Emma nods in agreement, even though she’s not buying it, and throws back her wine like it’s hard liquor, gulping it down quickly before setting the glass down on the table and wiping off her mouth. “So, what do you say… wanna get outta here?”

She doesn’t have to ask him twice before he’s tossing some cash on the table to pay for their drinks, before he’s rising from his chair and offering his hand. “My place?”

She glances at his hand briefly before lifting her eyes to meet his gaze. “Perfect.” She grabs her purse and slips her hand in his, rising from the table. She’s feeling warm and slightly buzzed as they head toward the exit doors, his hand resting on her back. Alcohol always makes this so much easier. 

Once outside, his arms are around her and his lips are on the shell of her ear while they’re moving quickly but clumsily, and she’s giggling when his beard tickles her skin. Before they make it to his vehicle parked in front of the restaurant, she tugs on his sleeve to stop him in his tracks. 

He removes his lips from her ear and pulls away slightly, lifting a questioning brow, resting his hands on her hips. 

“Before we go to your place, I have to be upfront with you about something.”

“Okay,” he nods, waiting for her to continue.

“I failed to mention this in my profile, but... I only do one night stands.”

“Oh, uh… that’s cool,” he says, but she can tell by the way he removes a hand from her hip and scratches his head and the uncertainty in his eyes that he’s not being completely honest with her. Or himself. “I’m totally down for a one-nighter.” 

Emma's shoulders rise and slump with relief as she flashes a toothy grin. “Okay, well now that I know we're on the same page, I do have a few rules you should know about.”

He nods, urging her to go on. She hasn't scared him off yet, and instead, he seems to be intrigued. 

“I don’t do any type of intimacy. So no kissing or cuddling, no foreplay,” she pauses when he furrows his brows in disappointment, his smile quickly dimming, “and this next rule is very important…”

“What’s that?” he asks, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“You have to wear a pillowcase over your head as you fuck me. I can’t risk getting attached to anyone.” Emma has to suppress a smirk when she sees the doubt clouding his eyes. “Oh and one more thing…”

He forces a small smile. “I’m afraid to ask…” 

She can tell he’s not nearly as interested as he was before, so what she’s about to say will definitely push him over the edge. She’s sure of it. 

She leans in closer, whispering in his ear. “You’re my second date tonight, so if I’m already leaking cum before you enter me, that’s why.”

Graham quickly removes his hand from her hip to cover his fake coughs. “I’m sorry, I’m feeling a cold coming on and I don’t want to get you sick, so I’ll have to take a rain check.” 

She waves off his words with a flick of her hand. "Oh, it's okay, I don't mind. Who knows what other ailments—or diseases for that matter—I contracted from the other guy anyway," she laughs. “I don't believe in condoms. Or any type of contraceptives for that matter."

Emma has never seen a man hightail away from her so fast in her entire life. Not even that one time when she told a guy she was on a first date with that she would cut off his balls if he ever so much as looked at another woman. 

She smirks as she watches Graham jump into his car, the tires squealing as he peels away from the curb, racing down the street. 

Emma turns on her heels and casually strides over to her car, thoroughly satisfied with how the date ended as she digs into her purse for her phone. She gets in her car and waits for her screen to light up. 

Three... Two... One…

Like clockwork, her phone buzzes and she answers it, bringing the phone to her ear. “Emma Swan.”

“You’re a freaking genius! I don’t know what you did or said to Graham, but he just texted me and wants to get back together!” 

Emma looks at her fingernails, admiring the manicure she'd gotten earlier after receiving a paycheck from her newest client. “I didn’t do anything. He just needed a little reminder of how hard it is to find someone like you, that’s all. Remember, Kaitlyn, you’re a catch. I just helped him realize that.”

“Oh, Emma, thank you, thank you, thank you! A million times thank you!” she cries into the phone. 

“Well now that he's reaching out to you, remember to dial down the intensity, okay?”

“What do you mean?” Kaitlin asks, confusion evident in her tone.

“I mean, he told me the reason why he broke up with you is because you were moving too fast for him. You have to give him time to catch up with you. But don't worry, he'll get there eventually. You just need to move at a slower, more natural pace to get him where you want him to be. Otherwise, you'll be calling me up a month from now, asking for my help again, but I never do the same job twice, got it?”

“I got it, but you have nothing to worry about. I won't screw this up again, I promise.”

Emma hopes so both for their sakes. All of her first attempts have so far proven to be successful, with the exception of one case (it's not Emma’s fault the guy turned out to be gay), but a second attempt would just be wasting her time. If a relationship doesn't work out the second time around, that usually means it wasn't meant to be. 

“Okay, just remember what I told you and you'll be fine.”

“Okay, I will,” Kaitlyn says before there's a brief pause. “Oh, I’m sorry, I have to go. Graham’s calling me. Thanks again!”

After the call ends, Emma tosses the phone in her purse and inserts the key in the ignition. When the engine roars to life, she turns on the radio and pulls out of her parking spot, looking forward to changing into pajamas, lounging on the couch and watching Point Blank. She looks forward to sleeping in her bed all alone and pleasuring herself with her battery-operated friend without worrying about having to impress anyone in the sack. And the next morning she’ll wake up refreshed and trot off work like she does every day, waiting for the next distressed woman to show up at her office in a mess of tears, begging Emma to help get her man back. 

And she’ll agree to it because it’ll take her mind off of her own lonely, depressing life and allow her to focus on someone else’s problems. She not only helps women repair their broken relationships but, unlike broken pipes, she fixes them quickly and efficiently with no clean up required. She does it with a smile on her face and her heart locked up tight because she’s a professional and she's amazing at what she does. 

But hey, they don’t call her Miss Fix-It for nothing, right?

[endangered-liaison]

FFXIVWrite Prompt #15: Ache

((NSFW warning on this one - behold, WoL/Igeyorhm smut.))

((Also, spoilers for patch 5.3!))

The Warrior of Light finds herself pushed against the wall to an inn room in the Forgotten Knight.

Tomorrow they'll be attacking the Vault. Committing high treason (is it still high treason when you're an outsider to the land?), and heresy, and a dozen other crimes besides. But tonight...tonight, she's free.

And the blue-haired girl from the bar trails a tongue along her neck.

What was her name again?

Something starting with I. Isabel? No, that wasn't right.

There'd been something familiar about her, though.

Something alluring, that drew the Warrior inexorably towards her. That had their small talk while nursing glasses of wine turning rapidly towards the flirtatious.

"Wine from Vylbrand? Expensive taste, my lady." The line had been a weak opening gambit as they both ordered the same La Noscean merlot from the tavernkeep. And yet, for whatever reason, it causes the woman to smile.

"And yet you drink the same," she notes, swirling the red, red wine in her glass and regarding the warrior. Her eyes are a pale purple, striking even in the evening's candlelight, and seem...older than they should. She's entrancing.

The Warrior of Light tilts her head in acknowledgement. "Perhaps I have expensive taste, as well?"

"Mm...no, I don't believe that you do."

The woman - Isabel? Isal-something? - sucks rough and eager on the warrior's collarbone, provoking a hiss.

She looks up, smirking and showing her teeth. "Oh, did I hurt the fragile traveler? However can I make it up to you?"

The Warrior pulls her in, fingers knotting in her hair - and kisses her. They press together as if they've been doing this for eternity, bodies pressing together. Isa-whatever scratches her nails across the spot on the back of the Warrior's neck that always makes her knees weak, and the Warrior retorts with a rough nip at her earlobe, garnering a pleased gasp and a tightening of her fingers.

"I'm an adventurer, of a sort," the Warrior of Light says. It's technically true. She is still an adventurer, even if her role within the Scions is far larger than that now. Or...had been far larger than that, before their near-annihilation. "I've seen much of the world, and...I suppose a taste for La Noscean wine stuck around."

The woman's smile softens at the edges, her eyes kind. Whatever the Warrior isn't saying, she seems to understand. "Well, then you have good taste, at least."

"What about you?" the Warrior can't help but pry, a little. "Is it good taste, or expensive taste?"

She thinks about it for a few moments. "I suppose I'm like you," is the answer she seems to settle on. Her eyes flick across the Warrior's face. "...I'm a Traveler."

"What's your name?" She can't help but ask, blunt and to the point as she's so famed for being.

To her credit, the other woman seems to take it in stride. It doesn't seem to bother her. In fact, she laughs. Low and smoky and terribly amused by this adventurer's crassness. "My name is Igeyorhm. Your name, I already know."

She - Igeyorhm, she remembers now - is the one to move the two of them to the bed. She settles atop her Warrior like she was made to be there, hips canting dangerously downwards as they lose themselves in kisses and touch and endless, overwhelming feeling.

Igeyorhm's fingers are cold - colder than one would expect even from the Coerthan weather - as she traces them across the Warrior's ribcage, trailing upwards. She laughs in amusement as the adventurer shudders and arches. "Eager, are we?"

"Yes," she says, all of that drilled-in Ishgardian manner and restraint collapsing like so many houses of cards as she's driven wild with the lightest of touches. She needs more. She needs-- "Please, Igeyorhm."

They work through the rest of the bottle between the two of them, then a second bottle (Igeyorhm's recommendation, and near twice the price) until deep into the night.

The Warrior of Light knows with her preternatural gifts she won't be nursing any sort of hangover in the morning. But she can't help but feel a little bad for however Igeyorhm's hangover will go. She is, after all, an ordinary mortal.

"...I should return to my lodgings," she eventually concedes, knowing that Alphinaud and the others will want an early start tomorrow - and that the boy is probably already worried about where she is, waiting up for her to return to House Fortemps.

"You could," Igeyorhm begins, in a tone of voice that the Warrior could not misplace or misconstrue. It sends a jolt of warmth through her already wine-warmed chest. "Or, you could share the room that I have here for the night."

"That sounds fairly suggestive, my lady Igeyorhm." The Warrior of Light smirks, soft and easy, but doesn't refuse. She has no intentions of refusing.

"Oh, good."

The Warrior watches as Igeyorhm climbs to her feet, and lifts her wine glass. Watches the way she tips her head back to drain the last drops of wine. Stares at the flex of her throat as she swallows.

"Full glad am I that my ability to flirt has not yet abandoned me."

She holds a hand out to the Warrior of Light.

She takes it.

Igeyorhm rocks herself, breathless and half-broken, locks of her hair sticking to her forehead as the Warrior of Light's fingers press into her in exactly the right way, leaving her gasping and biting down on her Warrior's shoulder to muffle herself.

Her breath is rough, her skin feels like it is burning, and the warrior - Her Warrior - touches her like she's been doing it forever. Like she remembers.

Her fingers press just deep enough, just at the right angle, and Igeyorhm comes undone. Her hips buck, her body tenses and shudders, and she collapses against her partner's chest.

And a name spills from her lips. The wrong name.

The right name.

"Azem."

[wronqness99]

Just The Way You Are

> About my writing

Genre: Comedy, fluff, slight angst

Word Count: 2K+

Characters: Lee Taemin (SHINee) X Female Reader

Requested by: @jesusagrees

*The image doesn’t belong to me, credits to the owner.*

"Yah, Lee Taemin, your girlfriend is endangering her life again," Kibum said retrieving a bottle of water from the fridge and making his way back to the living room, sitting beside the boy on the couch.

"I'm good!" Y/N screamed from the kitchen before a loud crash was heard.

Taemin's head shot up in that direction, his body jumping from the couch, completely forgetting the Overwatch face off he was having with Minho.

Running into the kitchen, the boy found his girlfriend sitting on the countertop with her legs held up to her chest and countless shards of a broken bowl scattered all over the floor. The boy's worried eyes scanned his girlfriend's body trying to make sure she wasn't hurt.

"Are you ok? Are you hurt anywhere?"

She shook her head, feeling embarrassed.

Taemin sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking back at her. She laughed awkwardly.

"Oops...?"

The boy chuckled and shook his head, getting a mop so he could get rid of the sharp glass. After cleaning up, he made his way towards his girlfriend, pulling her towards the edge of the counter and hugging her waist.

She bit her lip and smiled, legs dangling from the counter as she pulled him in, placing a sweet kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you, baby. If it weren't for you I'd probably be dead," she joked, making them chuckle.

"Yeah, I second that!" Jinki screamed from the living room, making the other members laugh.

Taemin rolled his eyes and caressed Y/N's cheek, smiling brightly.

"Don't worry, I will always be here to save you," He stated in a warm tone as he kissed her soft lips passionately.

"How about you guys stop the lovey dovey share of affections and go sit on the couch so we can start movie night, huh?" Kibum questioned from the kitchen door he leaned against, arms crossed.

Taemin rolled his eyes and turned to him, before speaking.

"Hyung, I hope you fall on live TV during your next schedule," The youngest stated making both the older man and his girlfriend laugh.

He turned around so the girl could get on his back and carried her to the couch. Y/N snuggled to Taemin's side as he looked at his girlfriend fondly, a small smile making it's way to the corner of his lips. Ruffling her hair, he pulled her closer towards him, getting comfortable for their movie night. The girl smiled, hugging his middle tighter in appreciation.

Lee Taemin's girlfriend had always been clumsy. Sometimes she wondered how he could endure all her messes without getting mad at her even once. Every time they met they both knew something was bound to happen. In the period of their four year relationship, Taemin had seen a lot.

On the very first night he sneaked her to sleep at his house, she tripped over herself and banged her head on his nightstand on the first five seconds of being there. They were lucky nobody woke up. There was also the time when they decided to tell the world about their relationship and the man took her as his plus one to their first outing as a couple, an award show where Taemin had been nominated for best dancer and best MV, and when they were walking down the stairs, hadn't Taemin been by her side and held her, Y/N would've fallen face first on the floor and probably broken her nose... or her neck. And her legs. And maybe even her arms. That was her first ever on camera embarrassment, she still remembered how Taemin had laughed in her ear and said to the paparazzi how he should add high heels to Y/N's death hazard list. Y/N was so red with shame she promised herself to never wear heels again. At the after party that same day, while hand gesturing when speaking with Seulgi, Y/N had accidentally grazed her boyfriend's crotch, creating a very painful and uncomfortable situation for him. Thankfully, no one had noticed it and they were able to cover it for a while before Taemin decided to drag her to the bathroom and have her help him with the problem she had created herself.

Taemin could never forget how she had lit her hair on fire in the candles while trying to reach over the table to kiss him when he asked her to be his girlfriend during a romantic dinner he had put a lot of thought into. Thankfully he had water on hand and the situation was handled smoothly, without anyone getting hurt. Tripping on her own feet was pretty much a daily occurrence, as well as the bruising on her skin. And there was also the casual nail polish he would find spilt on his bedsheets whenever she decided to paint her toenails over at his dorm.

Taemin knew his girlfriend was very clumsy, but it was her clumsiness that brought life and adrenaline to each of his days. Minho would always joke that he was finally getting the chance to be the superhero he wished to be when he was a child. For Taemin, however, the whole purpose of loving someone was to love them despite their flaws. Because he knew he had his, too, but they completed one another. They balanced each other out just fine and he was sure Y/N was his person. She was the one he was set on loving for the rest of his life no matter what obstacles they would have to face to be able to do so.

The man got awoken from his thoughts when suddenly, a half-asleep Y/N turned on his chest with the intention of getting more comfortable so she could fall deeper into dreamland but instead she ended up falling to the floor, startling both the man and their friends who just a short moment later began laughing.

"Ouch..." She muttered, sitting on the ground and rubbing her shoulder in hopes it would ease the pain.

"Woman, what the hell?!" Taemin laughed, sitting on the couch. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah, my shoulder just hurts a little, but hey, what's new?" She shrugged, getting back up on her feet and sitting next to her boyfriend.

"Remember that time Y/N almost died?" Jonghyun remembered as Sora, Minho's girlfriend, went to the kitchen to grab her friend some ice.

"How could I forget? I was very lucky Minho wasn't far and acted quickly," stated Y/N.

"Yeah, I almost died of heart attack, too, that day," Taemin remembered. Shortly after the girl had been introduced to the SHINee members, the five of them decided to take their significant others on a trip and they ended up spending one of the days at the pool of the resort they were staying at. Everything was going fine and everyone was having fun when while playing volleyball with their friends, Y/N ran to catch the ball that had landed on the pool deck and ended up slipping and falling into the pool.

They just laughed and didn't think much of it until they started noticing she was drowning. Y/N had never learned how to swim, but as she didn't intend to go to the deeper end of the pool, the girl had neglected to tell her boyfriend or their friends about it. Minho, being the first one to process what was happening and the one closest to the pool ended up being the one to rescue her.

"You were dumb to have been ashamed of such thing and not telling anyone. You could have literally died, Y/N." Taemin stated in a serious tone, making Y/N roll her eyes.

"Jesus, please, not this again. Didn't you punish me enough that day?" Y/N questioned as she rolled her eyes and looked at the man with an annoyed expression.

"Oh that he did, I could hear it from my room," stated Kibum with an expression of disgust etched on his face.

"Wait, what?" Jinki questioned furrowing his eyebrows. "I heard a loud bang that night, I thought she had fallen off the bed or something of the sort."

"Well, she did," Taemin stated with a playful smile. "While trying to give me a lap dance as a way to apologize," He laughed, making her hit his arm and hide her face between her hands in embarrassment, her cheeks getting redder by the second.

"Oh, so that's what happened," Jinki's girlfriend laughed.

"I'm sure Y/N didn't get hurt, though, because they didn't stop there," Kibum stated.

"Hyung, Freddie Mercury already said, "the show must go on," The maknae joked.

"Please stop." She begged embarrassed.

"I wonder what it will be like when you two move in together." Minho chimed in with a laugh as he shook his head at his friends' crazy adventures.

"Hyung, when you love someone you always find solutions to be able to spend your life with them no matter what gets thrown at you on the way." The man readily replied. "For breaking things and the falls, we can always get carpeted floors and as for run in hazards, there are always those table edge guards and bumpers for babies. Or just buy a helmet and have her use it all day every day. As for any sort of gadgets we may have, we need cases for every single one of them. Oh, and knives with covers. We need those to make sure no fingers are sliced in the process of making dinner." He stated, shrugging. Y/N looked at her boyfriends with glimmering eyes and a smile threatening to take over her lips as she bit them.

"You actually think about moving in with me?" She questioned in awe of Taemin's sweetness.

"Of course he does, he would've married you by now if he could, Y/N," Minho's girlfriend stated arriving in the living room with a bag of ice for Y/N to put on her shoulder.

"Yeah, Sora's right. You're the only one who still thinks he might break up with you because of your clumsiness. It's been 4 years, Y/N, wake up," Kibum stated, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of his cold tea.

"Hyung, shut up, you're just bitter you haven't found someone like my Y/N to love, yet," Taemin said, sticking his tongue out at Kibum, who rolled his eyes and decided to ignore the maknae's rude behaviour towards him.

The youngest man looked at his girlfriend and held her closer to his side, making sure not to hurt her sore shoulder. "And you, stop thinking that kind of stuff. I love you, I'm not leaving you because of a couple of broken objects or personal belongings gone missing. As long as you can deal with my pseudo-bullying, I am happily willing to deal with your clumsiness." He joked. "I love you just the way you are," He stated passionately, looking her in the eyes. She smiled at him and caressed his cheek before pecking his lips, both of them immediately getting disgusted noises from their friends, which only made Taemin deepen the kiss more and Y/N smile against his lips.

The inevitable truth is that the closer we get to someone, the more aware we become of their flaws. As simple as that. Love, however, sees above all else.

Taemin knew that in Y/N's heart there wasn't a single bit of ill intention. She was the one who from childhood had been made fun of because of her clumsiness and sometimes even to the point she would cry. She was the kindest soul and the more easy going person Lee Taemin knew. She loved to help everyone and make herself feel useful and not like a clumsy waste of space and oxygen. And he loved her for simply being her, for not trying to be someone else, someone she was not.

He found lovely how she always insisted to massage his tired body after long dance practices, so his muscles wouldn't ache as bad the next day even though she spent the day studying for mid-terms and was tired herself. Even when she had to stay up until late to study, she still made a bit of time to lay with him before bed and listen to his happy moments and hardships and there wasn't anything she hated more than going to bed mad at him. Even if she had to be the one to cave in when it wasn't her place to do so, at times, she would.

He could still clearly remember the first day he had been mad at her for letting his phone fall and shattering it to the point of no return. He had given her an ear full that day, he had screamed at her and didn't say a single word to her throughout the whole day despite her tries to apologize.

When the time came where they laid down to sleep, Taemin turned his back to his girlfriend and soon enough he could feel her arms snaking around his middle and her tears wetting the skin of his back along with the silent sobs that left her mouth as endless heartfelt apologies spilt from her shaking lips.

Taemin was surprised, he did not expect that from her. He felt terribly guilty for being so mad at her earlier that day and antagonizing her to the point of tears. That was the very same night he knew she was the one he wanted to be with for the rest of his life. He understood it was not something she could control, it wasn't something she did on purpose to annoy people around her. It was simply the way she was and he was willing to find solutions to deal with the situation. He was not gonna let something like this affect their relationship, he loved her too much to let that happen.

That day he realized how much he loved her and how thankful for her clumsiness he was, because hadn't it been for her tripping on her heels and falling on his lap, spilling her drink on both of them the night they met, he wouldn't get to hold her in his arms the way he loved to do. They were happy beside one another and they wanted to stay that way for a long long time.

Clumsy or not, she was his. And that was all that mattered.

Lee Taemin loved Y/N. Not only for who she was but for who he became when they were together.

MASTERLIST

[ft-dads-au]

Once Upon a Nightmare - Chapter 2

Shadowlight Week 2020 Prompt: Duality Pairing: Sting x Rogue

A Collaboration by @mdelpin and @oryu404

AO3 | Prev: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Next: Ch 3

Summary: After learning what happened to Rogue in his absence, all Sting wants is to talk about it and support him as much as he can. Rogue, however, just wants  to pretend it never happened, like he's done all along, leaving them on opposite sides.

Chapter 2: Duality

Rogue didn’t want to be by himself, but the alternative was even worse. He couldn’t bear to see the look on Sting’s face when he found out what had happened. Had never wanted him to find out in the first place.

In hindsight, Rogue wondered what he’d been thinking all this time, offering half-truths and distractions just so he could keep running from his nightmare, knowing god damn well he had nowhere to run. Now his nightmare had finally caught up to him, swept his legs out from beneath him, and caused him to inadvertently hurt Sting in the process. That was something he’d never considered during all those moments when he’d had the chance to be honest. One by one, he’d let them slip away, and now shit was going to hit the fan, and he’d have no one to blame but himself.

What would Sting think of him now? Would he believe him when he said he hadn’t wanted it? That he’d fought Maru off as best he could. Or would he see those as excuses?

Rogue's hands shook as he reached for his pack of cigarettes, desperate for something to do to help take his mind off what was happening in the bedroom. He felt caged, like an animal with nowhere to go but with too much energy to stay where he was. And as much as he’d love to step outside, he knew he’d only feel even more vulnerable. That left him only one choice - the basement.

Rogue descended the stairs to the basement his father and Gildarts had finished years ago, flicking on a single light and walking over to the large bar to examine its contents. He settled on a bottle of the whiskey Gildarts preferred, poured himself a drink, and lit a cigarette as he sat down to wait.

0-0

Sting felt sick to his stomach all over again, and yet he’d read every word twice to make sure that he wasn’t imagining things, letting the sentences they formed sink in one by one. Once he was done, he was still staring blankly at the page, defeated and numb from learning the truth he’d been so eager to learn.

He hadn’t really had any idea what to expect, but a violent sexual assault had never entered his mind. A part of him understood why Rogue hadn’t been willing to talk about it. Another wondered how he’d been able to carry it around for- he quickly did the math- almost 7 months. And all this time, he’d had no clue.

If only he’d been more observant, maybe then he would’ve caught on to the fact that there was something more disturbing going on in Rogue’s life than just the issues regarding his family.

If only he’d taken that little voice in the back of his head more seriously when it had been expressing concerns during the time they’d spent together around Christmas.

If only he’d known sooner so Rogue wouldn’t have been dealing with this alone for so long.

Screw that. If only he’d never left, it wouldn’t have happened in the first place.

Sting dropped the notebook on the bed as he hid his face in his hands. All the why’s and if only’s were going through his head, repeating themselves like a broken record as he picked at his memory and felt the guilt weigh him down until they led him back to the events of that day. Specifically that morning, when he’d found Totomaru on their doorstep.

“I didn’t know you were back.”

“I was hoping to speak to Rogue?”

Speak to Rogue? What the hell was this sick fucker getting at? Sting tried but failed to stop himself from imagining what could’ve happened if he hadn’t been there. If Totomaru had shown up a week or even a few minutes earlier. He should consider himself lucky that Sting didn't know then what he knew now, because if he did, not even his own mother would have been able to recognize him. The towel around his waist would have done nothing to stop him.

Sting knew he couldn’t stay in this room for much longer, Rogue was bound to be waiting for his reaction, and it wouldn't do him any good if he'd let his emotions prevail, but he couldn’t seem to make himself move. He didn’t know what to do or what to say, and within him, there grew a great fear that somehow he’d only manage to make things worse. Do or say the wrong thing.

But doing nothing at all would be the worst thing he could possibly do. So with no clear idea or plan, he forced himself to calm down and get up from the bed, returning the journal to the drawer from which Rogue had grabbed it, knowing intuitively that his boyfriend wouldn’t want to see it when he returned.

He left the refuge the bedroom afforded him, and when he didn’t find Rogue in the living area or the backyard, he made his way down the basement stairs.

0-0

Time had ceased to have any meaning for Rogue as he sat on a barstool in the near dark, its passage only marked by the number of cigarette butts that littered the ashtray and the ounces of whiskey he’d downed as he waited. Its smooth taste bitterly reminding him of better times he’d spent in this room and the people that had been part of them. People that had left him behind or that he had sent away.

The sound of Sting’s approaching footsteps sounded loud in the otherwise silent house, and Rogue could feel his heart begin to race in apprehension. What was he going to say?

His hands, which had finally settled, began to shake once again. In the time he’d sat there, he’d managed to run many scenarios through his head, but he still didn’t know what to expect.

He moved towards the wall where they kept the cue sticks for their pool table, realizing he didn’t want to be found wallowing in alcohol. He grabbed a stick and approached the table, not bothering to set up a game, merely going after whatever ball was closest.

He could see Sting's silhouette appear out of the corners of his eyes, casting a striking figure behind the wisps of smoke that curled in the air, but Rogue didn't stop to look up from his game. Sting hesitated for a few seconds, there wasn't a sound but the click of the cue stick hitting a ball and the dull thuds that followed when it bounced back against the felt-covered sides of the pool table.

"It's been a while," Sting finally pointed out as he made his way over to the bar, grabbing a glass and pouring a drink from the same bottle of whiskey, and it wasn’t until he’d taken a sip and continued that Rogue realized that he was referring to the last time he'd played a game of pool. "Can I join you?"

Rogue nodded and put his cue down so he could gather the balls and rack them for a standard game of eight ball. They played in awkward silence for a couple of turns, all the while he was wondering if Sting was waiting for him to address the obvious or if he’d decided not to speak about it at all, and Rogue wasn’t sure how to feel about either option. Hoping to find the answer hidden in his expression, he forced himself to look.

Maybe Sting had been awaiting that or perhaps it was just a coincidence. Either way, he came closer, extending his arms for a hug but stopping at the last second.

“I’m sorry-” he sat down on the edge of the pool table, “I- I don’t really know what to say... what he did to you was despicable. I get that it was hard for you to talk about, and I wish I hadn’t pressed the way I did.”

Rogue slowly released the breath he’d been holding in, resting the end of the pool cue on the floor and gripping it firmly with both hands as if it was his only tether to reality. Once again he nodded, to indicate that he understood and harbored no hard feelings towards it. At this point, he was just glad that his story wasn’t being called into question, and even though he wished it had gone differently, he knew that he hadn’t really made any other outcome feasible.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you really needed me,” Sting continued, “if I had been, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“It isn’t your fault,” Rogue shrugged, focusing his attention back on the game, pretending that that thought hadn’t crossed his mind at least once during his deepest lows. “And we’ll never know that for sure anyway.”

“Are they always that bad?” Sting asked, and for a moment Rogue was confused, until he remembered the nightmare that had brought all this about.

“No,” he was quick to assure him, “This one was the worst I’ve had in a while.”

His thoughts inadvertently went back to the nightmare, which used to be a repetitive reconstruction of the attack but had taken a different course that night.

Instead of the alley, the scene had taken place in their home this time. Starting at the front door and ending in the bedroom. Rogue guessed that his panic at seeing Maru through the peephole that morning had a role in that, but unlike what he’d done then, he was stupid enough to open the door in his dream, with all its terrible consequences.

And dream-him had known exactly what those consequences would be, but still, his body had moved, ignoring his mind even as it had screamed no.

It had only gotten worse when Sting had tried to wake him up from it, giving the original ending a twist on top of that, but Rogue decided to leave all of that out. There was enough guilt to go around between them as it was, the last thing he wanted was to keep piling it up. He drank what remained inside his glass in one sip, swallowing hard at the burn in his throat.

“Can I- uhm, can I take a look at your scratches?”

Rogue stared at Sting blankly, not entirely sure how he felt about it.

“I swear I can hear my dad yelling at me for not doing it already, especially with the smoke.”

Rogue managed a wry chuckle, knowing Sting wasn’t just trying to be funny. And maybe it was the relief talking or his need for things to return to some sort of normalcy, no matter how slight, but he found himself nodding in silent agreement.

“Okay,” Sting said softly, putting his cue stick back up on the wall and waiting for Rogue to do the same before leading him back upstairs to their bathroom, where they kept all the first aid supplies.

0-0

After washing his hands with antibacterial soap, Sting busied himself searching for the supplies he would need to patch Rogue up. He ran the list through his mind, cotton swabs, hydrogen peroxide, antibacterial ointment, gauze, medical tape. Once he found each item, he placed it on the counter, feeling the weight of Rogue’s gaze as he did so.

Even though he remained outwardly calm, Sting was still reeling from the shock he’d felt at reading the diary. His every move was marked with apprehension, his thoughts carefully filtered and examined before he let them spill out of his mouth, and it was entirely outside the realm of his experience. He’d always been one to just blurt out whatever he was thinking without much thought to the consequences.

Knowing that could prove disastrous on this occasion, he willed himself to focus only on the angry red marks on Rogue’s neck, hoping that in doing so, he’d manage to keep himself under control. Sting opened the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and grabbed a cotton swab before turning to find Rogue was indeed watching him, eyes slightly hooded, nose wrinkled in distaste as the smell of the chemical filled the room.

“Do you have to use that stuff?” Rogue frowned, his features settling into a pout. “It always stings.”

Any other time Sting would have been amused by the childish attitude but faced with the seriousness of the scratches in front of him, he could barely muster a reassuring smile.

“It only hurts for a second,” he soothed, “Besides, it needs to be done. Lots of nasty stuff hides underneath your fingernails,” he reminded him, beginning to wet the swab with the hydrogen peroxide, “You don’t want them to get infected.”

As he leaned closer to get a better view of what he’d be working on, he found himself shuddering at the sight of an injury for the first time in years. He’d seen plenty of them, his parents had taken him along to the clinic since he’d been deemed old and responsible enough, and this certainly wasn’t the worst he’d ever laid his eyes on. But it was different when it was someone you loved rather than a random patient, and what unsettled him the most was knowing that Rogue had caused them himself.

Pressing down the swab as gently as he could manage on the worst of the scratches, he heard the bubbling sound of the chemical as it cleaned out the area and flinched at the accompanying hiss from Rogue. It made him wonder just how badly he had looked after the attack and if he had even bothered to get himself looked at. Sting had a feeling he knew the answer.

Once again, he was consumed by rage, and he stepped back for a moment, masking his anger under the pretense of wetting another swab. How could anyone do that to another person? He tried his best to shake it off and regain his focus so he could finish the job, but when he approached Rogue again, he noticed him startling and ducking away in reflex, all tensed up.

It had little to do with the peroxide, it was the touch itself that he was having trouble enduring.

“Would you rather do it yourself?” Sting asked, keeping his tone as neutral as he could manage, offering him the swab after he tried again and noticed the discomfort oozing from Rogue’s features.

Rogue shook his head, and Sting could have kicked himself for being so insensitive. Rogue had written in his journal that he was no longer comfortable looking in the mirror, which he would need to do given the location of the scratches.

“I’ll hurry,” Sting promised, and with trembling hands, he did just that, using up two more swabs before he was done. Nothing in his life had prepared him for dealing with something like this, and to his frustration, the more he tried to be careful, the more mistakes he seemed to make.

What could he possibly say to make Rogue feel better? He racked his brain, trying to think of anything but came up empty.

It wasn’t your fault, you didn’t do anything wrong!

Sting screamed the words so loudly in his head he was sure Rogue must be able to hear them. He threw the bits of bloody cotton in the trash, closing the bottle and reaching for the antibiotic cream.

He hesitated briefly, knowing this part would be tricky as he’d have to touch Rogue’s skin directly. Hadn’t he done that before? During the past week, during Rogue’s visit to Edolas? More than likely, but as much as he tried, he couldn’t remember getting a reaction that hinted at something being wrong. Whether he’d been too caught up in the moment or Rogue had just kept it hidden really well, he disliked both answers.

“I’m almost done,” he informed Rogue, offering a small smile.

“It’s fine,” Rogue assured him with eyes full of a trust that tore at Sting’s heartstrings. Had he looked at Totomaru like that once?

Sting made himself a promise right then and there that he would strive to always be worthy of that trust. Squeezing a glob of the cream onto his fingers, he moved closer, and although he attempted to appear confident, the shakiness of his hand gave him away. Before he had a chance to say something to lighten the moment, Rogue surprised him by grabbing his wrist and slowly guiding it to his neck. It was a simple gesture, but it broke him all the same.

He felt the tears he’d been holding back stream down his cheeks, and there was nothing he could do to hide them, not when Rogue was so close to him.

“I’m sorry, it’s just-,” Sting wiped away at his tears with his other hand.

“That you’re a big crybaby?” Rogue teased him, a reference to all the times Sting had cried during movies.

“Yeah, that too,” he managed to chuckle through his sniffles, “but I’m...I guess just so overwhelmed. I’m really glad you’re sharing all this with me, but at the same time I’m also angry because this shouldn’t have happened to you, and it wasn’t your fault, and I want to be there for you, but I just don’t know what to do.”

He paused his acute word-vomit to take a breath, but before he could say anything else, Rogue stopped him cold.

“I get that you want to talk about this, and I do appreciate it, but I’m not ready to do that yet,” Rogue refused to meet his eyes, “I know that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s how I feel at the moment.”

Wasn’t ready to talk about it, not ready? What did he mean? It had been seven months already! Sting couldn’t even begin to understand those words. He tried to put himself in Rogue’s place, but he just couldn’t imagine letting something fester for that long.

Still, he felt like he should respect his wishes, even if only for tonight. It had been a long emotional night for both of them, and if that was what Rogue needed to feel better, then he would honor it.

For now.

“Okay,” he replied simply and began to wash the cream off his hand and put the supplies away, not even bothering with the gauze, already knowing Rogue would balk at the suggestion.

0-0

Rogue retreated to the bedroom the moment Sting was done with the cleanup, wanting to get out of the bathroom and away from that mirror. He didn't want to be there for longer than necessary either. One look at the bed had him seeing flashes of the nightmare all over again. So he grabbed his pillow and resigned himself to another night of sleeping on the couch. If he was able to get back to sleep at all, that was.

Sting had followed him up to the bed but remained there, awkwardly looking back and forth between his sleeping spot and Rogue without a clue of what to do.

"I'm going to the living room," Rogue announced, clutching the pillow under his arm, "do you want to come with me?" He cringed at the way that sounded because he usually wouldn't even have to ask, let alone wonder what the answer would be.

"Do you want me to?"

He forced what he hoped would look like a reassuring smile and nodded. The last thing he wanted right now was to be alone, knowing that it would only cause his thoughts to go rampant again. He doubted that it would be any different for Sting, who returned his smile with an equally weak one and grabbed his pillow off the bed before following him into the living room.

The scratches on his throat were still stinging from the peroxide, causing them to itch and irritate, and Rogue had to keep himself from making all the time and energy they'd just spent in the bathroom become in vain by scratching at them all over again. He hated the constant reminder, although he knew Sting had been right, and it was better than risking the chance of getting an infection, so he turned on the TV, hoping for some distraction.

"Wanna Netflix?" he asked, dumping his pillow in the corner of their large L-shaped couch and tucking himself underneath one of the blankets that were lying around.

"Yeah, sure," Sting replied. He sat down at the other end of the couch, and the sensible part of Rogue told him that it was probably just to give him some space, but the currently more dominant voice of anxiety suggested something else.

He browsed through the selection of available movies and series until he found something that countered his dark thoughts, a cutesy anime he thought would be right up Sting's alley. The intro started, filling the room with low volume cheerful tunes, but the distance between them set this moment apart from any other they'd spent watching TV together.

This was precisely what Rogue had feared would happen. The revelation was driving a wedge between them, even if, despite everything, Sting had responded to it better than he could've hoped. He didn't want this, he'd lost and locked out so many people he cared about already, and for once, he was yearning for someone to just hold him and tell him that everything would be okay, without wasting any words on it.

"Could you sit with me?" he pleaded softly, the idea of asking this from usually touchy-feely Sting so alien it made his gut wrench. He knew that he only had himself to blame for it because of his withdrawn behavior, so now it was up to him to fix it, and thankfully Sting moved closer without any objections.

Not close enough, so Rogue draped the other end of the blanket over him and curled up against his side. "I'm sorry," he spilled, hoping to get some conversation going and needing to get at least this off his chest, "for uh…kneeing you."

"It's fine," Sting assured him, "I know you didn't do it on purpose. I guess I was in the wrong place at the wrong time." He hesitated for a few seconds, tentatively wrapping an arm around him, "You know…If you do feel like you're ready to talk about it, I'll always be there. I'm not going anywhere."

It was everything Rogue needed to hear right now, and he didn't even bother to hold back the tears caused by the sudden rush of emotion that came over him. It would've been like carrying sand to the beach anyway because the “I love you” that followed would've shattered any resistance Rogue might have had.

He somehow managed to get out an “I love you too” and closed his eyes, all of his tension melting away into something as simple as a warm embrace. Mind now at ease, his body was quick to shut itself down, and telling himself that as long as Sting was there, he'd be alright, Rogue had no trouble falling asleep after a nightmare for the first time.

0-0

The opening theme of episode 6 -or maybe it was 5- was playing joyfully in the background, but even though Sting's eyes had been glued to the tv for god knows how long by now, he still had no idea what the show was about. The light of dawn was creeping in through the dining room’s sliding door, and yet he hadn't slept a wink since he'd woken up from his dream.

Snippets of phrases he’d read in the journal kept replaying in his head as he looked down at Rogue’s face, finally at peace in his slumber, and he was gripped with an intense desire to protect him from the world. To search out the person who had dared to put him through this hell and teach him a lesson he’d never forget.

He allowed himself a minute to fantasize about it, but it felt empty. Even though it would be satisfying in the short term, it wouldn’t do anything to change what had already happened, and quite likely might put him on a plane back to Edolas.

No, as frustrating as it was, the only one who could help Rogue out of this situation was Rogue himself. All Sting could really do was to offer him as much support as he was able to ride out this new awkwardness they were experiencing and not let it drive a wedge between them.

And as much as he respected that Rogue didn’t want to talk about it, he did. He needed to talk about what had happened and to work out his own role, if any. To know how to help his boyfriend without being always worried he was making things worse, and that left him in a very uncomfortable place. But how was he supposed to process this without betraying Rogue’s trust, and how could he coax him towards a point where he would consider getting help? It wasn’t hard to see, now that he knew what to look for, that Rogue was going to need it to find himself again.

More than anything, Sting wanted their relationship to work out, he’d moved to Magnolia with lots of ideas and dreams of a shared future after all, and he’d be damned to see it all collapse a week in. He’d find a way, of that he was certain. He was a fighter, and he had no intention of giving up on Rogue without a fight, but he could only hope that that fight wouldn’t accomplish the very opposite of what he wanted.

One thing was for sure: they were in for a rough ride. Some of the worst was yet to come, and as he held on to Rogue as tightly as he dared, Sting tried to catch some sleep, hoping it would give him the energy needed to walk through the emotional minefield again when he’d wake up in a few hours.

[maxburnett]

Chandelier, TJ Hammond

- (asexual!fem!reader x TJ Hammond)

Summary: Soulmate - Your soulmate understands and connects with you in every way and on every level, which brings a sense of peace, calmness, and happiness. Two broken individuals find peace and love when trying to fix the shambles in their lives caused by years of addictions.

Warnings: angst, self-loathing, mentions of drugs, mentions of suicide, fluff, happy ending

If you recognize this, I uploaded it about a month ago. I just wanted to make an aesthetic for it and I didn't like the format of the description etc. I own nothing but my writing; things in italics are quotes found on Google.

Words: 1,654

~ Recovery ~

Recovery is an acceptance that your life is in shambles, and you have to change.

He had never wanted to be like this; he had never wanted drugs and alcohol to rule his life; TJ had always wondered what had happened? Why was he such a failure to his parents? Why did he hate who he was and who he had become? Would things ever even get better for him? After two attempts to end it all, after everything he had put his family through, TJ thought maybe he had found common ground and a purpose when he had woke up in the hospital bed with his mother sitting there by his side; however, like always it didn’t last.

He lasted a whole six months being clean and sober, then one day, everything came crashing right back down, and he felt like a thunderstorm with no umbrella or cover. After six whole months, he was back on the bottle, waking up after blacking out, not even remembering drinking the night before. He started cocaine again a couple of weeks later, but this time, he knew he needed help, and he got his mom to put him into rehab once more.

That’s when he met her, beautiful as broken as he was; an addict for ten years, in and out of rehab; losing everything, lost to the world, and a failure to her parents. They had laid on the ground outside of the rehab facility talking about their problems while holding hands, and everything lined up perfectly. In a world where TJ had felt that everyone was out for him; that the world would be a better place without him; she showed up, and her eyes, those (Y/E/C) eyes, were the beacon of light showing him the way to find his way back. He still thought back to that night; they had laid on the ground, holding hands as they laughed together at TJ telling her the dumbest jokes, and then their conversation moved to the talk about past relationships and the root of all of their problems. They then realized that those two broken people who had questioned everything that had happened in their lives had found their person.

After rehab, they both stayed in touch, texting, telling each other how their Recovery was going; saying “I Love You” in the texts was just second nature, and they meant those words; TJ was in love with her. It felt nice to be able to say that he was in love with someone. Did all “Love” have to be romantic? Did you need the sex and the complications that came with a “relationship” to feel the meaning of true love?

Then it happened, one little fight with his parents over something, and he had a drink again; one drink turned into two; two turned into 4. He needed her; he needed his saving grace.

~Relapsing~

The disease of addiction is a chronic, devious bitch just waiting for you to slip up.

Y/N woke up at the sound of her phone and groaned as she looked over at the clock. Three missed calls—one voicemail. That’s when the alarm set in, and she quickly sat up and pressed play on the phone and listened with bated breath, not sure what she should be expecting. She listened intently and sighed as barely audible sobs filled her ears.

“I’m such a fuck up,” he breathed and let a sob escape his lips. “No wonder my parents don’t want to put up with me … sometimes I wonder why you seem to put up with me.” His voice is shaky and begins to sound hoarse. “I don’t know how you stayed by my side after all this time … when you know I’m going to do nothing but fuck up and disappoint,”

He laughs a little to himself, and her heart breaks as she stands and gathers some clothes, rushing out to her car after grabbing her keys; she listens to the voicemail and hears something that sounds like broken glass as she drives to TJ’s apartment and uses her key to open it up. She rushes in and finds him sitting on the floor in his bathroom. TJ was holding his hand close to his t-shirt as the blood dripped down his hand, and she looked up and saw a broken mirror.

“Look at me, TJ, I’m here,” she said and softly kissed his forehead. “I’m here, baby,” she said as she held him close to her. He rested his head onto her chest, hands clutching her oversized shirt she had been sleeping in as he sobbed and apologized over and over. She helped get him into the shower; he was in such a state of distress that she got into the shower with him still fully clothed to help hold him up. He ended up turning and wrapping his arms around her after the cold water brought him to his senses a little. After they got out of the shower, both changing into dry clothes, she led him to his bed and went around the apartment, and poured out what other alcohol he had before joining him beside him on the bed.

“I’m sorry, kitten,” he said, causing her to smile at that playful nickname he had given her. He breathed out as he laid his head against her hair and giggled against it. “You came here at 3 in the morning,” he hummed against her hair, causing her to playfully hit his chest and look up at him with sad eyes.

“Of course I would; you’re everything to me,” she whispered, and he smiled down at her and pushed some hair out of her face before softly pressing his lips against hers, causing her to freeze. “Please don’t do that,” she whispered and cupped TJ’s face, and he looked at her with a questioning look.

“I-I’m sorry,” TJ stammered, not sure what had gotten into him.

“I’m not mad,” she said with a shake of her head. “Not mad at all, I just … I don’t like that sort of contact,” she said and held onto both of his hands, causing him to look into her eyes with a confused frown. “I’m asexual … I just don’t get feelings like that,” she said and looked into his bright blue eyes. “But know this, TJ, I love you, and I’ve never loved anyone the way that I love you.”

“And I love you,” TJ said as he closed his hands around hers and pressed a gentle kiss to her nose, giggling as she smirked up at him and did the same.

“You’re cute, TJee, I’ll give you that,” she smiled and laid her head down into the crook of his neck as he wrapped his arms tightly against her.

~All I Need~

Soulmate is an overused term, but a true soul connection is very rare, and very real.

Y/N smiled as she looked around the apartment that she and TJ now shared, her head resting on his chest as he ran his hand up and down her back as she played a video game while lying on his chest. She smiled up at him as he looked down at her with those favorite pair of blue eyes before drawing small circles over the fabric of her t-shirt.

“You’re distracting me, TJ!” She said and giggled as he swooped her up and laid her down, and began to tickle her. “Stop it!” She let out a fit of giggles. “You ass!” She laughed and tried to get him off of her.

“Make me,” he said, sticking his tongue out at her playfully, and she pushed him off playfully before she sat up and caught him staring at her.

“What?” She asked as she absentmindedly played with the ring on her finger that TJ had bought her when she told him that emeralds were her favorite gemstones.

“Just taking in how cute you are, kitten,” he said and leaned in and snuck in a gentle kiss to her cheek and watched as Y/N placed a soft kiss to his nose and giggled as she put the controller to the side and let his arms wrap around her. She stretched and changed the input on the television and put on a channel they both liked and traced circles on his white t-shirt; she watched his face contently as he smiled at what was playing on the television and smiled as he closed his hands around hers as he held her. She closed her eyes, wondering what life would bring them, and found herself turning to look back into TJ’s blue eyes.

“Would you ever want kids? Me to have kids? I mean, there’s a way we can-,” he placed a finger against her mouth and smiled as he softly moved the finger down.

“Whatever life brings our way, I’m going to be right by your side, and if a kid is in our future, then it happens. I hope it has my good looks,” he smirked and laughed as she slapped his shoulder with a smile and leaned to place a kiss onto his pink lips.

“Love you,” she murmured into his lips. TJ smiled as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer into the kiss, they didn't kiss like this often but when they did it was one of his favorite things int he world.

"Love you too, Kitten," he murmured against the kiss.

What they had, they never had to explain. Yes, technically, TJ was sexually attracted to men, but his heart was hers, and hers belonged to him. She had even told him that she didn’t mind if he chose to sleep with men while they were together, but he refused, saying that his body belonged to her. He didn’t need to sleep with random men anymore to fill the void that he had inside of him all of those years, because now his heart was filled with the greatest love he had ever as far as their friends and parents knew, they were a normal couple; but for them, this was their normal, and they wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tag List:

@fuckandfluff @fairyevans @mickey-henry @buckyblues @bloomingbucky @fluffycutecevans @midnightf @fallinforevans @deanscherry @buckyssimp

(Let me know if you would like to be tagged in future fics! Also please let me know if you would not like to be tagged.) Please remember to reblog! Support all creators by sharing/reblogging! Hope you guys enjoy.

[thecursedhellblazer]

For @thedemonconstantine​​​​​​, who once again didn’t ask for it, but who gets my crap anyway u.u

domestic ship meme || Accepting !

(( I removed three of the prompts because they were the same of the previous meme! ))

JOHN & DEMON JOHN

who reaches out to new neighbors Luckily for everyone, they don’t have neighbours. John has picked a place in the middle of a forest, far away enough from the city, for the exact reason of not having to deal with busybodies and to be able to go around his occult business without having to worry about interruptions or to make up excuses to explain all the oddities that happen around them. After he has freed the Copy from Hell and the Other has become a more or less stable presence in his household, the choice had turned out to be an even more appropriate one. Between the fights and their messed up sexual life, they would have definitely got all the wrong kinds of unwanted attention. Whenever they happens to be elsewhere and make enough of a mess to alarm the people living nearby, they usually end up fighting even more because the Copy just want to off the witnesses, while John leans more towards deleting their memories with a spell. It usually ends with Chas clearing up the chaos, if they haven’t done anything irreparable, or always with Chas calling Zatanna for assistance, because John can’t really be trusted with that kind of spells. Whenever he tries them,while they do their job,  they also always end up having nasty side effects.

who remembers to buy healthy food The Copy eats only what he is fed with and basically everything he gets given, good or not so much. John, from time to time, on a good day, finds the patience and the will to cook for them both, but, at the end of the day, it’s only thanks to Chas if he has the ingredients to do it in the first place. Yet another reason for the Other to call the cabbie their “free maid”. John doesn’t say it as often, but he wholeheartedly agrees.

who remembers to buy junk food They either steal it from Chas’s secret stash (more about it in the next section) or John is the one who drags his ass to the store and buy whatever random junk the Copy has talked him into getting. There is nothing that he hates more than having to comply, but at times it’s the only way to avoid a fight when he is still healing and all sore because of the last one they had. At times, John just takes off with the excuse of them needing “supplies” because it gives him an excuse to have some space away from the Other, because there are moments when he really can’t stand being around him. Usually, it happens whenever he is feeling already unable to deal with himself and having the Copy around just makes it worse. Of course, the bastard seems to always notice and, if he sticks around for too long, the Other ends up exploiting the fact to torment him more than his own head is already doing.

who fixes the oven when it breaks They don’t fix anything. They are, one way or the other, the reason why everything has been broken in the first place, including themselves. John tries to avoid having the most violent fights happening inside, but at times they start so abruptly and so explosively that there’s nothing that can be done to prevent the damage. For the most, it usually ends with broken glasses and bottles, ruined sofa covers and carpets, a smashed chair and blood and maggots everywhere. However, there are occasions in which things get even more out of hand and they add cracks in the walls and thrash everything that happens to be too close to them, including forniture and appliances. In the aftermath, the Copy always leaves, dumping the task to clean up the mess all on John. Constantine usually waits for his demon blood to patch him up a bit, wipes away some of the blood, to make everything look less bad than it has been, and then calls Chas.

who waters the plants/feeds their pet(s) John has some herbs and mystical greeneries he grows as ingredients for his spell. Some are in the vault and they are magical enough not to require his attention. Others are in the backyards of the cabin and nature takes care of them. Constantine bothers only with the ones who need a special kind of nourishment, but he still makes sure that they can fence for themselves for long periods in any case. What really takes a concrete effort it stopping the Copy from messing with them. The bastard had used some of them to poison John a few times, with nasty results. He would have probably died horribly, hadn’t it been for his tainted blood, so he just went through the horrible part without actually dying. The Other got his face burnt off with magic or he found himself trapped in a very small cage for days to no end after every single episode. Also, it happens often enough, far too often for Constantine’s liking, that he takes away the on ingredient the magician needs, and urgently, to complete whatever spell or potion he is working on.

who makes the bed None of them cares about it, also because it usually gets thrashed all over again, for one reason or the other. John changes the sheets when they are too soiled with dried blood or too torn to be used (and it happens more often than he’s ready to admit) and it’s only because he put a protective spell on the mattress that he doesn’t have to change it too every two weeks or so. Whenever Chas comes around and is willing to doe some chores, they leave that part to him too, even if, after a while, the cabbie got fed up enough to refuse to do it whenever the bed had got too filthy. He might be their best friend and he might be ready and resigned to clean after them, but he has to protect his own mental sanity too.

who makes the coffee John...just to have it stolen from his hands before he can even get a sip out of the mug. At times the Copy drinks it in his face, especially when it’s the last they had left, others he simply throws it on the floor. Or on his Maker (the hotter, the better in such case).  Some of the burns have even scarred and John hasn’t stayed pissed even after the demon has “not-apologised” (he almost never makes the effort, so when he does it’s supposed to truly mean something, but the magician is simply too done with him to appreciate it at times.) By now Constantine has learnt to be smarter about it, either avoiding to even just look at the machine whenever the Other is around or never pouring it all, so he can get more once he has managed to kick the demon’s wounded ass out of the cabin and into a portal for a trip in some nasty realm, so he can have his breakfast in peace. 

who burns breakfast The Copy doesn’t cook or bother with anything related to that so, when it happens, it’s usually John’s doing. That said, it’s also true that most of the times it’s the Other’s fault too, because he’s the one to distract his Maker from what he is doing, either starting a fight or more pleasurable activities. Then there was that one, odd time when John woke up to smoke from the ground floor of the cabin, just to find that the Copy had somehow managed to incinerate whatever food he had been trying to make and the whole cooker with it. It was the anniversary of the demon’s creation and John had been so stunned that he hadn’t even managed to say a single word on the matter. Later on, when Chas had come over to see if the appliance was salvageable, he had taken the blame from the accident instead of putting it on his demonic self. They never spoke of it again, but that very same night was one of the extremely rare times when their passion held almost no violence in it, despite it being particularly intense, and everything was agonisingly slow.

how do they let each other know they’re leaving the house They don’t. Each of them goes and comes as he pleases. The only times when John warns the Copy is when he knows that he’ll be away for some time and it’s mostly to warn him not to wreak havoc in his absence if he doesn’t want to suffer the consequences of it. The threats mostly fall onto deaf ears, but at least he can say that he has given the bastard a fair warning when he finds himself forced to keep his word.

how do they greet each other when one of them gets home It depends on the circumstances. For the most with insults and cutting remarks that can either end in a session of bickering or lead up to a real fight. Other times they simply ignore each other past a brief glare. Then there are the times when they haven’t seen each other in a good while and they are too impatient to even go through their usual foreplay, so they just lace onto each other and shreds their clothes off, making themselves unavailable for the next three hours, at least.

who picks the movie for movie night / their favorite kind of movie to watch Their movie night is game night and that usually means that Chas comes over too. It’s perhaps the most normal part of their fucked up routine and John has come to appreciate it exactly for that reason. After he has chosen to bring the Copy back in his life, most of his habits had got screwed up and, while he is used to deal with dangers and chaos, he misses the quiet moments even more for the mere reason that they are now even more often denied to him. Chas’s presence usually means both more tension and more balance, because his best friend is on the edge and glaring whenever the Other is around, but, at the same time, the Copy behaves a bit more because he knows that pissing John off on those nights means being sent away and leaving the two men to enjoy each other’s company. The idea nags him more than he is ready to admit. If a movie happens instead of the game, it’s usually of the sort that has made Chas emotional in other occasions. And that never gets old.

who first suggests a pillow fort / who builds the pillow fort Pillow forts or anything of the sort truly are not their thing. It’s something that would have never crossed their minds if it hadn’t been for that one cursed time when Tim had come up with the idea. Of course, the teen’s only aim had been to make both Johns uncomfortable and feeling like two idiots, even if he had hide it behind the excuse of wanting to understand why some young humans enjoyed the idea so much. Useless to say, he managed to make them miserable and even more annoyed because Yoyo, on his part, had appreciated very much being allowed to perch in peace over all those pillows, while staring at them both amused and judgemental. The fort had been later set on fire as some lame attempt of payback. For the most, it had been done in the hope that the shame would have burnt with it.

who tries to distract the other during the movie Most of the times it’s the Copy. John does it too, but less often. In any case, if they are alone, it’s rare that they get to finish whatever they are watching, be it because they end up painting the floor red and each other black and blue or because they decide that the movie can go screw itself while they screw each other. Or both. The fights begin verbally and quickly escalate into physical violence, and they can be born out of a bad comment or a wrong word or just out of nothing. The sex, instead, can either start with no preambles and one of them simply throwing the other down on the couch or on the floor, or it can be more subtle, with not so random touches escalating into a full groping and kissing.

who falls asleep first Depends on the circumstances. The Copy doesn’t need to sleep, so there are times when he doesn’t even stick around once they are done with each other and John sleeps it off on his own. In other occasions, the demon waits for his Maker to have fallen asleep or purposefully knocks him out, so he can have the chance to keep him close in his arms until he starts to stir again. Other times again, it’s exactly the other way around, with John waiting for the Copy to go into stasis so he can non-cuddle him. However, it starts, the next morning, they never really talk about or acknowledge the fact that they have woken up entangled in each other in a way that speaks of everything but the hatred they are so keen on openly proclaiming to each other.

----

JOHN & CHAS

who reaches out to new neighbors John doesn’t have neighbours, since his cabin is set literally in the middle of nowhere, and it’s usually Chas who stays over and not the other way around. However, there are times when they are staying in some other city/town for a few days and they have to rent a place or take a motel room. John’s dabbling with magic can cause some mayhem, which can result in injuries, very odd noises or him coming back in a state that is either indecent or worrisome and it’s up to Chas to take care of public relations, which includes making sure no one calls the police. No need for their American criminal records to get as bad as their English ones.

who remembers to buy healthy food Chas. He is the one who does the shopping in general, because all John never forgets to buy are cigarettes and booze. All the rest he is very likely to forgo, especially when he has his head wrapped up into something. Chas has learnt since their very first months together that being Constantine’s best friend means being his keeper too. Besides, he likes cooking, so it’s never that much of a bother.

who remembers to buy junk food Again, Chas. He stocks up for movies night and keeps a small stash of snacks for whenever Tim shows up at their door. He usually tries to hide it in the most creative ways he can think of, because John tends to dig it up whenever he is staying on his own for too long and can’t be persuaded to go and get actual food. Useless to say, the magician always manages to find it...even when he hides it in his own flat. Chas can’t wrap his head around why his best mate goes through all the trouble of planeswalking just to do that and yet he can’t be bothered to make a simple trip to the store. One of the many mysteries of John Constantine.

who fixes the oven when it breaks Chas is the one who handles most of the repairs, especially when they involve appliances and daily life objects. If it was up to John, those things would simply be left there and stay broken till the day he decides to throw them out to make space for something else. There was one time when Chas wanted to see for how long John could keep up his pretense of not caring and he didn’t replace the coffee maker after it had got involved in a “magical incident”, which had completely fried it. He watched Constantine trying to use it every morning and late night for over two months, getting mad at it and manhandling it, even if he knew very well that the thing couldn’t have worked in any case, before giving in and getting his best friend a new one out of exasperation.

who waters the plants/feeds their pet(s) If they had a pet, it would probably be Chas’s and, as such, his complete responsibility. John might agree to feed it, if the cabbie truly begged him to look after it for one night because he has to work. In the aftermath, both John and the dog would hope that such thing never happens again. As for the plants, as mentioned above, John has some greenery lying around, but it really doesn’t take much work or attention.

who makes the bed Chas makes his own every morning. Once upon a time, he used to make John’s too, if he happened to get the time, but he has quickly learnt not to bother because all he gets out of it is for his best friend to protest and mess it up once again. Now, he sticks to changing the sheets once in a while. Unless he knows that John has had some unconventional company over the night before. In that case, he stands there, glaring sternly, hands on his hips, until John takes care of them.

who makes the coffee Chas makes fresh when if he is around, also because at times it’s a good way to lure his best friend out of bed without having to use force, otherwise John gets it from a bar or use the coffee maker (if his current one is functional).

who burns breakfast John has a long record of burning things, starting with Chas’s old kitchen back when they were still living with the cabbie’s mother. That was an accident involving a spell gone wrong and, with some practice, he has managed to become a decent cook too. However, he also has the bad habit of getting distractive easily, especially if he is hangover or running on no sleep, so...accidents happen. Not to mention that he still uses kitchen utensils for spells, so that one time in Chas’s old kitchen hasn’t been the first and only fire he has started in such circumstances.

how do they let each other know they’re leaving the house Chas usually gives John a shout, saying that he is heading out. If the magician is too busy or can’t hear him for some reason, he leaves a note saying where he is heading off on the fridge or on the table attached to a bottle of beer, to make sure that Constantine finds him. John most of the times just leaves without a word. It has happened that Chas has kept talking to him, while busy doing chores or cooking, only to realise that the bastard has left mid-conversation and that he has been talking to no one like an idiot for over ten minutes.

how do they greet each other when one of them gets home Usually they come back together, since Chas always drives John back to the cabin before heading off to his own place. When they meet up, it’s usually with a greeting from Chas’s parts and an exchange of playful insults, maybe a hand on the back, on normal days, and either silence or brief, sharp words on bad ones. If John is really in a good mood, which doesn’t happen often, he might even lean in and presse a kiss on Chas’s cheek, before walking off into the room with a teasing smirk. The cabbie almost never fails to flush a bit and that amuses him to no end.

who picks the movie for movie night / their favorite kind of movie to watch They have a game night more than a movie night and usually they both want to watch the same thing, so it’s never too hard to pick something they both want to watch. From time to time John brings back this or that B movie and forces Chas to sit with him through it so that he can talk the cabbie’s ears off with his complaints. Then, there are the very few times when Geraldine comes to visit Chas in the States, instead of the man flying back to England, and Chas manages to trick John into spending the evening with them. They mostly watch either cartoons or teen movies. Useless to say, Constantine sulks the whole time, but Chas has his little girl there with him, with them, and he can’t give less of a damn. Plus, he feeds John good food and enough beer to keep him tamed in any case, so the night never gets spoiled.

who first suggests a pillow fort / who builds the pillow fort It’s another small thing they end up doing when Geraldine comes over. Mostly, it’s Chas and the girl playing and John watching them from the couch with a drink or from outside the balcony while he smokes (no smoking in the flat while Gera is over. That’s one rule Chas forces on him every time, no protests allowed). Then there was one time when John hs found himself having to “babysit” Tefé and, of course, he called Chas to help, because his best friend is much better with kids than he will ever be. It turned out that the girl had no idea of what a pillow fort was and, by the end of her staying, John’s cabin had gained a new, small tree house made of vines, large leaves and pillows.

who tries to distract the other during the movie John, all the way. He is the one who never shuts up during movies in the first place and, when he gets bored with them (and it usually happens the few times it’s Chas to pick a movie he really wants to watch), he starts poking his best friend, verbally and physically. One time when everything else failed to distract Chas, he even started a make-out session out of the blue, just to leave the cabbie’s all hot and bothered and unsatisfied in the aftermath. He wasn’t in a much better state, but he still had to “prove a point”. He only behaves during Geraldine’s movie nights. He is a nasty piece of work, but he knows where to draw a line, at least when it comes to certain things.

who falls asleep first It depends on the circumstances. Usually, it’s John, because when Chas drags him to bed it’s because he hasn’t been sleeping or he is drunk off his sorry ass or he is badly injured. It’s usually John the few times they end up in bed together too, since Constantine feels safe enough to pass out and get the rest he rarely allows himself to have. There are other times when Chas stays over and dozes off on the couch or on the “guest bed” while John goes around his business and the magician always takes a moment to throw a blanker over him before either heading off to bed himself or going back to whatever he was doing. Also, when he comes over during Geraldine’s visit, both father and daughter always end up falling asleep first, together, and John sticks around to make sure they are comfortable, before heading back to his own place.

[rosy-night-sky]

Of Treasure and Adventure

Genre: Treasure Hunter/Indiana Jones AU

Pairing: Ot7 x reader

Summary: Your grandmother gave you a gift that she won in a game, so naturally you are curious as to the origins of it. A decision was then made that you should seek the answers to your questions. However, you never expected your decision to lead you on a treasure hunting quest.

Tag List: @sevenincubistolemyheart @xxqueenwxtchxx

Chapter 3

The mechanical hum of the plane you were in resonated throughout the cabin as you looked out the window, admiring the beautiful Indian sky, which had shifted into a pale blue ever since you and the rest of the team had taken off. Wisps of cloud fluttered by your window like tufts of cotton. As you glanced to the earth below, you noticed the forested terrain had turned more rugged and hilly, and small villages dotted the land here and there.

You and the team had been traveling for nearly two weeks at this point. Apparently while you had been unconscious, Namjoon and Jin had taken the time to study your tapestry, and they determined that the next step in the plan was to make their way toward the mountain ranges in the Bengal and Assam regions. Ever the one to be prepared, Jin had previously purchased an airliner with a capacity of anywhere from nine to seventeen passengers and a needed crew of three. Once you all had your supplies packed, you were off.

The plan was to land in Darjeeling and then take a vehicle up through the mountains. You were hoping that the time it would take to get there would fly by -- both figuratively and literally -- but with having to stop every five hundred kilometers or so for fuel, it grew more and more wearisome.

Most days you spent reading up on the history surrounding the tapestry, although you also attempted to make light conversation with the others every once in a while. It wasn’t that you disliked the boys, but rather you just couldn’t find anything to talk about other than the expedition. You formed all sorts of conversation starters in your mind, but when they would begin talking to you, your mind would go completely blank.

Your daydreaming is interrupted when you see Yoongi wandering toward you from the cockpit, fiddling with something in his hands. He stopped in front of you and, without a word, handed you what you realized to be a camera. You turned it over in your hands before raising your eyebrow in an unspoken question.

“Jin wanted me to give you this after I was done tinkering with it,” he explained as you inspected its leathery and sleek appearance. He folded his arms. “Don’t break it. I already have enough stuff to fix as it is.”

You smiled, remembering when Namjoon accidentally broke one of the armrests, causing Yoongi to go off on a rant about how if he had known Namjoon was such a hazard, he would never have taken this job.

“Thank you. I’ll try not to be as clumsy as the others,” you replied, carefully placing the camera to the side. Your mind was at a blank again. Shit, what should you say? Should you ask about the maintenance of the plane? Should you ask something more personal? “Um, so, what’s your favorite food?” You mentally cringed at your words. Why the hell did you ask that?

Yoongi quirked an eyebrow. “I guess anything with meat in it. Can’t resist a good steak.” He then grinned. “What, are you planning on cooking our next meal?”

You took a moment to ponder that. “There’s only so much rations I can take. Maybe I will cook. I’ve been craving bangers and mash,” you suggested. “Or perhaps bubble ‘n squeak?”

Yoongi’s face wrinkled in slight disgust. “I forget you British people have no sense of taste,” he remarked, leaning against one of the seats with his arms still crossed.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his comment. “My American colleagues would agree with you, but I can assure you that my shepherd’s pie is anything but disgusting,” you mentioned.

“Pie? Who’s making pie?” Taehyung suddenly butted in, tampering with some mechanism in one hand. You and Yoongi noticed a stick of dynamite sticking out of the contraption and flew from your spots to the farthest corner from where Taehyung stood.

“What the hell?!” Yoongi shouted angrily, pressing you close to the wall and holding an arm out in front of you for protection. “Are you trying to kill us all?!”

Taehyung stared at you both in bewilderment for a few seconds before glancing down at the mechanism in his hand. Realization dawned upon him as his mouth formed around a silent “oh.” “Geez, calm down, you two. It’s defective. I wouldn’t just walk around with an explosive in hand in a flying plane,” he laughed, removing the stick and twirling it between his fingers.

Yoongi relaxed a bit and shook his head in disbelief, finally moving away from the wall. The smell of oil and metal left with him. “Y’know, these days, I'm not so sure,” he sighed, jabbing a finger at him.

“What’s going on in here?” Jin asked as he walked in. His eyes, too, landed upon Taehyung and the stick of dynamite. You could practically see the gears turning in his head. When the dots finally connected after a few seconds of stunned silence, his eyebrows shot up as he flung himself back and screamed at the top of his lungs, fear etched into every part of his face.

You had never seen a man so scared in your entire life.

Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Jin! It’s defective!”

He seemed to calm down a bit at those words, but fear and paranoia remained imprinted in his features. His eyes were glued to the explosive. “Well, get rid of it then!” he snapped, recomposing himself from such an embarrassing ordeal.

“Can everyone please stop yelling?” Jimin shouted from his seat in the cockpit. “It’s a little hard to concentrate with all that commotion back there!”

Jungkook poked his head out from the cockpit, slight concern growing on his face. “What’s wrong-”

“Before you start screaming,” Taehyung interrupted, jabbing the dynamite at a now surprised Jungkook, “it’s defective.” He then brushed past everyone and unceremoniously tossed the stick into a cardboard box labeled in black marker ‘defective’. You all flinched when it landed in the box but relaxed after a few seconds of anxious silence.

Jin sighed, his broad shoulders sagging. “Tae, what have we said about messing with the explosives?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“Don’t touch them unless absolutely necessary. But you know who made that rule?” Taehyung pointed at himself. “Me. I’m the expert here, and I say it’s absolutely necessary to check every once in a while to separate the defects from the working explosives.”

“Just do it away from us so we don’t go into cardiac arrest,” you said, crossing your arms.

Taehyung shrugged his shoulders before leaving the group, probably to go check on the supplies once more. Jin collapsed in a nearby chair, his hand resting on his chest. Yoongi shuffled away, mumbling something about fixing whatever recent thing Namjoon had broken. This left you alone with the millionaire and the muscle.

Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck before turning to Jin. “Hyung, would you like a drink?” he suggested, knowing fully well the guy needed it.

Jin nodded, “Get me a soju.”

Jungkook went over to one of the nearby boxes and pulled out a green bottle. Looking up to you, he asked “Would you like anything, too, y/n?”

You considered the offer for a few moments, wondering if now was a good time to be drinking. However, after that scare with the dynamite, a drink sounded amazing. “Sure, I guess I’ll also have a soju.” You then smirked. “As long as it isn’t drugged.”

The bodyguard chuckled at your comment as he took the green bottle and three shot glasses. He popped off the cap using one of the nearby armrests and poured the clear liquid into the shot glasses. “Have you ever had soju?” he questioned as he handed you your drink.

You shook your head. “No, but I can’t think of a better time to rectify that.”

“It tastes like watered down vodka, in case you’re wondering,” Jin described to you as he received his glass from the younger man.

You held the glass out and observed it for a few seconds, taking a moment to watch the liquid swirl around. “Vodka, huh? I expected you to be more of a wine guy,” you commented, bringing your drink back down.

“I am,” Jin replied, looking out the window at the cloudy, blue sky for a few seconds before turning his gaze back to you, “but this situation calls for something a little stronger.” He then lifted his glass up in the air for a toast. “Geon bae.”

You also lifted up your glass. “Geon bae,” you cheered, causing Jungkook to chuckle at your attempt to replicate Jin’s pronunciation. You all threw the shot back, and you felt the liquid burn in your throat as you swallowed it down. Ah, you could feel its warmth pooling in your stomach, and you released a sigh you felt had been trapped in your chest for a long time. “It does taste like watered down vodka.”

“This is from Jimin’s stash,” Jungkook confessed. He lifted a finger to his lips and smirked at you, narrowing his eyes in a conspiratory manner. “Let’s keep this a secret between us.” You weren’t sure if your cheeks were heating up because of the look in his eyes or because of the alcohol.

You grinned back at him, trying to ignore your flustered state. “Just as long as you don’t tell him I took some of his rations,” you bargained, surprised at your own banter. It had to be the alcohol, right?

His smirk was replaced with a mirthful smile as he laughed at your comment. “It’s a deal then,” he concluded, still laughing to himself.

“Then I guess I might as well admit that I used some of Jimin’s cologne when he wasn’t looking?” Jin added, clinking his fingers against his glass sheepishly.

“Everyone probably uses Jimin’s stuff when he isn’t looking,” you noted casually, remembering the time when Jimin was looking for his comb when Taehyung had secretly swiped it.

“Gentlemen and... gentlewoman... we are now arriving at our destination. Please buckle yourselves as we descend into Darjeeling. Thank you for flying Jimin Airlines!” The pilot in question announced over the overhead speakers.

Jungkook chuckled to himself as he took yours and Jin’s glasses and placed them back in the crate he pulled them from. “What a dork...” He seated himself in the chair next to Jin, and buckled himself in with a resounding ‘click’.

Namjoon soon entered the cabin, nose deep in his book which, from the looks of it, was written in Bengali. He gave you a polite greeting before he took a seat in front of Jin. You decided to sit next to him, since you haven’t had the chance to talk to the archeologist yet. As you buckled yourself in, you peeked at Namjoon’s book again. You admired the beautiful artwork that adorned one of the pages he was currently reading.

“How’s the book?” you asked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

Namjoon turned his gaze to you, unsure if you were talking to him at first. “Oh, um, it’s good,” he answered, setting the book in his lap. “It’s all about the history of the Bengali and Assam regions. I thought I’d refresh my memory, since our expedition is taking us here.”

You nodded in understanding, finding his research to be both fascinating and impressive. “So, what’s this about then?” you inquired, pointing at a page.

Namjoon glanced down at where you pointed, his dark eyes wandering over the page. “It’s just talking about how the Pala Empire formed under Gopala I,” he explained. “Both regions were a part of the empire until the Hindu Sena dynasty dethroned the Pala Empire in the 12th century.”

You were impressed that Namjoon didn’t simply read the page verbatim, instead summarizing based on his own memory and understanding. You knew he was incredibly intelligent the moment he dated your tapestry, but he continued to impress you. Before this had all began, when you were still arranging a meeting with him about your tapestry, you had done some research of your own on the man, which had led to an impressive list of books all written by the historian. Of course, you hadn't done enough research to find out he wasn’t actually an active professor like he had led you to believe.

“Y/n!” you heard your name being called in a cheerful tone. Hoseok bounded into your view and sat down in the flight seat in front of you, smiling brightly at you. “You almost forgot your camera in the back seats.” He held out the leather encased camera, and you mentally chastised yourself as you took it out of his hands. “You’re lucky it was me who found it and not Yoongi.”

You imagined the scowl and rant you would have received from the mechanic and were extremely thankful to the doctor. “Yeah, thanks for saving my neck, Hoseok,” you chuckled, tightening your grip on the case.

He laughed. “Well, I am the doctor. It’s what I do,” he smiled his infectious smile. “Oh, and please, call me Hobi. The others already call me that anyway. You might as well too at this point.”

“Dr. Hobi,” you tested the name on your tongue. “Sounds like a character from the cartoons in the papers.”

“Oooh! I like the sound of that! Dr. Hobi to the rescue!”

—————————————

Just as planned, you landed in Darjeeling and were currently helping the other boys bring the supplies to the motel rooms Jin had booked for the night. You placed all of the crates you could manage onto your flat and started pushing it past the other boys. Big mistake on your part. Why? Because it was currently thirty degree celsius and very humid, and the boys were doing manual work, which meant, yes, they were indeed sweating.

Most of them had their sleeves rolled up and their shirts unbuttoned as sweat rolled down their faces. You could see Jungkook’s muscles flex as he carried heavy equipment to his flat and Namjoon’s sculpted calves clench as he lifted his share of the crates. You felt the blood rush to your already warm cheeks, and you willed yourself not to look at them.

Get a grip, woman, you scolded yourself internally.

You had to remind yourself that they were your teammates, not men you could fantasize about. This was all strictly professional, and you intended to keep it that way.

“Need a hand, boys?” you asked, wiping the sweat from your brow as you tried your very best not to notice the way Jimin’s shirt was currently very see through.

Taehyung grinned at you mirthfully and sauntered over. Dear Lord, he was wearing a tank top. “Could I add something to your flat?” he asked hopefully.

You nodded. “Yep! Just put it right here!” You pointed at an open area.

“Thanks, y/n.” He then stretched himself out on the flat and wrapped his arms behind his head. His eyes fluttered shut as he continued to grin cheekily. “Alright, darling, take us over.”

You gaped at him. “You cheeky monkey!” you scolded, smacking him on the shoulder, rousing a chorus of laughter from him and the rest of the team. “Get up!”

Yoongi looked wistfully at Taehyung. “Why didn’t I think of that earlier?” he wondered out loud to himself.

You shook the flat hoping it would cause the demolition expert to flop off, but he stubbornly stuck to his spot. Exasperation flood over your being as you threw your head back. Wasn’t this man supposed to be an adult? Then why was he acting like a child? “Taehyung, get off!” you chided, giving the flat another good shake. However, your efforts bore no fruit.

Taehyung pouted slightly. “Why? I get a nice view of you from down here,” he bluntly remarked, his pout forming into a bold grin.

You sputtered for a few seconds, your mind at a complete loss for words. Did he just…? No, that can’t be right. You must’ve heard wrong. Maybe he was talking about the nice view of the sky? Yes, that had to be it.

Jimin giggled at your bothered state, crouching down slightly so his arms rested on his thighs. “Aw, look how flustered you made her, Tae~” he cooed, tilting his head amusedly. “Looks like someone isn’t used to getting complimented.”

Your cheeks were inflamed at this point, and you were fairly sure everyone could see how embarrassed you were. It wasn’t that you weren’t used to being complimented, but rather the boys were taking it a step further than complimenting. It was on the border of flirting. “Of course I’m used to being complimented!” you refuted, trying to recompose yourself. “It’s just that-! I-!”

“Liar!” Hoseok interjected, wrapping an arm around Yoongi’s shoulders. “You’re sooo not used to getting complimented.I think we should fix that, don’t you agree?” He looked at Yoongi for answer.

The mechanic shrugged his shoulders. “If we fix it, then we won’t get to see her all embarrassed again,” he mentioned, looking at the other’s for their opinion.

Hoseok let out a noise of agreement before adding, “You’re right! She looks so cute when she’s shy!”

You panicked once more. Cute? You can’t remember the last time someone called you cute. All your friends squealed about how cute your cat was, but never had anyone recently called you cute. You placed a hand on your cheek to feel if it was indeed inflamed, and you were fairly certain your cheeks were never this hot before. “Okay, okay!” you cried out, throwing your hand at your side. “You can stop with the bloody teasing!”

“We’re not teasing,” Jungkook rebutted, leaning against his flat with an amused twinkle in his eye. “If we were teasing, we’d talk about how you look like a deer caught in headlights.”

“Or a schoolgirl when a boy flirts with her,” Jimin added, running his fingers through his raven hair. Damn, he shouldn’t be doing that when you’re already so flustered.

“I wish I could use your camera and take a picture of you right now,” Jin teased playfully, gesturing to the camera that hung from your neck. “The pictures would be hilarious!”

“If you do,” Namjoon butted in, a coltish grin spreading from ear to ear, “give me a few. I’d like to have something to look back on and laugh.” He then snickered seeing the gaped look you were giving him. When did these boys get so cheeky with you?

“Alright! That’s it! Enough of that!” The boys laughed wildly at your now provoked expression, knowing fully well that they managed to get under your skin. You just had enough of their silly teasing! Anymore and you would’ve imploded.

“Huh, she gets angry when we either compliment her or when we tease her,” Yoongi remarked, folding his arms as a disappointed look crept onto his features. “You’re a mean girl, y/n.” The way he said ‘mean girl’ made your body feel things you know fully well you shouldn’t be feeling.

“Hmmm, I do seem to recall that you like to tease us a lot, too, y/n,” Namjoon referred to, rousing up remarks of agreement from the other boys. “That’s a bit unfair.”

“Ooooh~ does that mean we get to tease her more then?” Jimin inquired, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

Hoseok lit up at Jimin’s suggestion, his eyes flickering with a spark of excitement. You could practically see the many plans of future teasing running through his thoughts. “I like that idea! Perhaps we could tease her about how she talks in her sleep? I mean, last night she was mumbling about wanting to interview a farmer in charge of an ostrich farm so badly!” The other boys squealed in laughter, imaging you eagerly wanting to meet the ostrich farmer in your dreams. Some of them were laughing so hard they used the crates as support.

You couldn’t believe where this was going. “No! No! Don’t team up against me!” you protested, jabbing a finger at all of them. “All I want is get him off!” You gestured dramatically at the man who was still lying on your flat.

Taehyung stopped laughing and pouted once more, his behavior resembling one of a child who was told no. Lord help you with these boys. “But I’m so tired!” he whined, clinging to the flat.

After a few seconds of chastising Taehyung to no avail, you managed to convince Jungkook to carry the demolition expert off so you could continue on with your job of moving crates and avoiding the sight of sweaty, attractive men who wanted nothing more than to embarrass you.

You pushed your flat onward, glancing at the slip of paper given to you by Jin that had the directions to the motel written in rather professional looking handwriting. The town you and the boys had landed in was rather run down looking. You saw a few kids playing in the streets and could hear loud, cheery voices coming from the pubs, but other than that the town looked dead. You assumed that it was because of how late it had gotten.

You admired how the sky had turned into a beautiful mix of red, orange, and pink as the sun had begun to set, and if it hadn’t been so bloody hot, you might have decided to go for a walk after you had dropped off the supplies at the motel room. The temptation to just go off on your own little brief adventure was very strong indeed, but, again, the humid weather manage to convince you otherwise.

You managed to find the motel after a few minutes of pushing and shoving, and the sweat that clung stickily to your body and clothes made you desperate for a cold shower. Perhaps instead of that walk you were contemplating, you would take a shower.

You found the room no problem, and, after a few minutes of moving the crates, you had successfully stored the supplies in your room. Luckily, you convinced Jin to book you a room all by yourself, not wanting to have to change or shower knowing the boys were right there. Your room wasn’t amazing, but it was certainly better than other motel rooms you’ve stayed at. You didn’t spot any cockroaches right away thankfully. The only thing that probably revealed its mediocrity was the discolored ceiling and walls. Other than that, it seemed to be in rather good condition.

When you realized just how sweaty you were, the bathroom began to call to you with the promise of a heavenly cold shower, but you knew that you had to, unfortunately, take the flat back to the airport. Ugh, you really didn’t want to have to deal with the boys possibly teasing you once more, but you knew that you didn’t have much of a choice… again. Sighing to yourself, you trudged back to the hallway outside the motel room.

When you opened the door, the first thing you noticed was the strong stench of alcohol that filled the air, accompanied by the sight of a pair of shoes and pants that didn’t belong to any of your teammates. Fear slowly washed over you as your fight or flight instincts screamed at you to get away as soon as possible. Your eyes slowly dragged themselves up, hoping that your instincts were wrong, only to find yourself face to face with a man you didn’t know.

A man who was holding a knife directed threateningly at you.

[msjr0119]

Hold On

Part 20- I can’t lose you

Nobody got injured at the Homecoming ball, they all get separated into different safe houses- for safety.

Riley and Drake had confirmed that they had feelings for each other, however Drake believed Riley should be with Liam. Heartbroken, she moves back to New York. Only keeping in touch with Hana, Maxwell and Olivia.

Riley meets lawyer, Nate Cooper and begins a relationship with him. In Cordonia, Drake begins to court Kiara.

Nine months after Riley had left Cordonia- there is a reunion, but not the reunion the friends had hoped for.

*Characters belong to Pixelberry*

If you are under 18 please do not read this series. If you do you are consenting that you are over the age.

Series warnings: Suicide, domestic abuse, swearing, stabbing, smut 🍋. If any of these triggers affect you do not read!

Tags- @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @butindeed @bbrandy2002 @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @kingliam2019 @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @choices97 @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world

******

Kiara didn’t know how to react, she didn’t need a man- she was the heir to her estate, she was intelligent, why was she obsessed with Drake? When she was younger she always fantasied about being with the muscly commoner. Everyone looked down their noses at the Walker’s after Jackson tragically passed away. But not Kiara. She stayed civil with everyone, she taught Savannah Walker french before she abruptly left. Doing this, she had hoped it would bring her and Drake closer.

Kiara’s daydream was shortly interrupted, her head turned towards the wooden door swiftly like a meerkat. Drake’s body froze, his hand remained on the door knob. The vein in her neck became distended- she definitely didn’t trust the two of them now.

“WALKER! SIT DOWN!”

“Kiara, you have a problem with me not Drake. You and I can sort this. Just let him go. When the atmosphere is better, you two can sort this out. I’m sure he will forgive you. Right Drake?”

“Have you lost your brain cells Brooks? No chance in hell am I forgiving her!”

Riley grabbed Kiara’s hand, holding it tightly. Her baby blues, fixated on the insecure woman stood in front of her.

“Kiara, he doesn’t mean it he’s angry. You’re angry. Just both calm down. We can get through this.”

“We? Because you’re always involved aren’t you Riley.”

“I- I meant you two can sort it out. I promise you Ki, that I won’t tell anyone. I’ll just say to Liam that I was tired so I went straight to bed. It’s the first time I’ve drank alcohol in weeks- it’s a reliable story. Please. What else can I do to persuade you?”

“You should have never come back! You don’t belong here.”

Riley hated how everyone treat her using her commoner status. Everyone is equal she believed. No matter what status they had.

“Maybe I don’t belong here, maybe it was fate that I’m here. But between you and Madeleine, you two belong elsewhere too! You both need your heads looking at!”

“Brooks! Keep that big American mouth of yours shut!”

“Fuck you Walker! We wouldn’t be in this situation if you kept your dick in your pants and respected women!”

Kiara couldn’t cope with the two of them arguing. She had paranoid thoughts that this would bring them closer- Riley was sticking up for her. Was this a ploy to escape? Kiara didn’t care. She dragged Drake to the floor.

“Do you love me Drake?”

“No!”

“Do you love her?”

“I did!”

“If Liam wasn’t around, would you jump straight back into her arms?”

“I- I.. Kiara this ends now! Just let her go back to Liam. Please.”

“Don’t avoid the question!”

“Yes, I probably would! Happy now?”

“Wrong answer!”

Kiara turned to Riley, pushing her against the wall. Her eyes narrowed, as she put her hands around the American’s neck. Riley was furious with Drake. Why couldn’t he just lie?

“Lady Riley. Now it’s your turn... if Liam wasn’t around would you jump back into Drake’s arms?”

“No.....”

“You’ve done it before. So why not now?”

“Kiara you’re hurting me.... please .... just please.... believe me. Drake is my friend.... if you hurt us....”

“Oh if I hurt you, you think your King will save you both? No chance, Riley! Whilst you’re still here Drake is still going to want you.”

“Kiara.... I ... I can’t breath!”

“Kiara let her go!”

“SIT WALKER! IM NOT DONE WITH HER YET!”

“Ki... I love Liam.... please.... “

Kiara removed herself from Riley, creating little distance- pulling the knife out of her bra. She glided the knife across Riley’s neck. The cold blade, caused shock through Riley’s body.

“Riley you know I can’t let you stay. You say you love Liam. But here in Cordonia we have arrangements within marriage.”

“I’m... I’m... not like... that. I’d have done... it when... he was engaged to her....”

“Riley. Pick! You or him?”

“Me....Do what you want to me....”

“No Riley! Are you fucking crazy? You have a good future ahead of you. Kiara if you are going to hurt anyone it’s going to be me.”

“Aw Ri, he’s still playing hero for you.”

Riley felt the tip of the blade now against her abdomen. Closing her eyes, it felt like time had frozen. All she could think about was Liam, and the time during the social season.

I’m glad to have met you, Riley. I’ll never forget this night.

Riley... I never thought I’d see you again.

If I’m being honest, I was just thinking about you.

You look so beautiful in the firelight. Riley, I’ve never really had someone that I wanted to please so badly. I feel like I’d do anything to see you smile and know that I was the cause.

It is said that if two lovers climb to the top of the waterfall and jump in together, they’ll get the blessing of the lady of the waterfall.

You are entitled to a kiss, my Queen.

I’m always happy when I’m with you Lady Riley. I’ve been trying to imagine what type of Queen you would be if we were to be wed.

What I really want is to have a family. Maybe not this year or the next but eventually..... the most precious thing anyone has is time. You never know just how much you have left. And when it’s gone.. it’s gone.

The last memory hit Riley, she needed to fight. She needed to get to Liam- to tell him how much he meant to her, and that she regretted every moment she had lost with him in the past. Feeling Kiara turn and twist the tip of the knife against her abdomen, she knew somehow she had to knock the knife out of her hand. As she opened her eyes, her vision went into slow motion as she saw Drake sprint into Kiara, tackling her to the floor. The knife fell a distance, out of everyone’s reach.

“Kiara, ENOUGH! This has to end NOW!”

Anger in his voice, that Riley had never witnessed before apart from in Applewood. He had risked his life again for her. Riley looked sadly at Drake who had stopped restraining a now unconscious Kiara on the floor.

“Brooks! Get out now!”

“I- I can’t leave you...I can’t even find the key!”

Drake stood up leaving Kiara on the floor, frantically both of them began looking for a key. Riley removed a hair grip out of her messed up hair, hoping that it would unlock the door.

“It’s not working! The window! We have to jump!”

Riley grabbed Drake’s hand, leading him to the window. She would rather have broken limbs than be butchered to death.

“She’s locked it! Pass me your bottle of whiskey! We have to smash the window!”

“Are you crazy?”

“Drake, I will personally buy you whiskey for the rest of your lifetime. Please... it’s our only way out!”

Drake hesitantly handed the bottle over. Both of them taking a swig from the bottle before attempting to smash the window- glass from the brown bottle shattered. Riley stared in the windows reflection, feeling defeated that the window itself didn’t smash. Of course she was in a palace, the windows were probably bulletproof. In disbelief, she saw Kiara rise from the floor, pointing the knife towards them- her eyes widened as she predicted what was going to happen.

“DRAKE! MOVE!”

In slow motion, Riley felt the heavy weight lean into her body. Losing her balance, they both fell to the floor.

“I’m so sorry Drake. I loved you.”

“Love? Are you fucking serious Kiara? You’ve just literally stabbed him in the back!”

Riley slowly stood up, trembling- her hands now painted red with Drake’s blood. Adrenaline now taking over she ran over to Kiara, with a shard of glass from the whiskey bottle. Threatening the noble lady.

“Kiara, I swear to god- give me the key! He needs medical assistance!”

Kiara stood, smirking at Riley. No other expression was shown.

“You have five minutes to save him, Lady Riley.”

Riley looked confused as Kiara entered the bathroom, running the bath. She ran over to Drake, knowing she had to find the stab wound and prevent anymore bleeding. Raiding through his wardrobe, she could only find his usual white shirts and denim jackets- it’ll have to do.

Riley placed pressure on the wound and cradled Drake in her arms, hoping her friend would pull through. She wondered where the others were, as far as she was concerned she had been gone too long.

“Drake, why do you always have to act like the hero? Come on. You can’t die on me. You’ve already dodged a bullet. What’s next eh?”

“Br-Brooks....”

“Drake? Come on! Open those brown eyes wider! We have five minutes to get out.”

“Say... goodbye... to everyone. I love Liam... Max... Savannah.. Bartie... Hana... and you.”

“We love you too! You are not leaving us! I’m in love with Liam but I love ya, I always will...you’re my best friend. Don’t tell Hana or Max though.”

Before Drake could respond, he saw Riley’s sad facial expression turn to into grimace. A tear fell from her face effortlessly, before her face head butt his shoulder. Her hair whipped onto his face leaving a lingering sting.

“Goodbye you two...” - Kiara snarled as she removed the whiskey bottle glass shard out of Riley’s back. Blood began pouring like a waterfall- it was never ending.

****

The men raced up to Drake’s room, they had hoped that the door was open. The guards entered with armed weapons, searching the room for Kiara. Bastien swallowed hard as he entered. Shaking, he picked up his phone demanding for medical assistance immediately and commanded that the palace was searched for Kiara.

Liam attempted to barge through the crowd. Bastien heard the commotion, he stood in front of Liam, placing his hands on the Kings shoulders.

“Sir, please. It’s not a nice sight.”

“Bastien I don’t care! Let me in!”

Liam’s heart felt as if it had stopped. He ran over to Riley, scooping her up in his arms, whilst Leo tried to help Drake.

“Ri, please don’t leave me. I can’t lose you.”

Liam remained cradling Riley in his arms. He felt as if his whole world had collapsed- he didn’t know how many more tears his body could produce. The paramedics arrived and immediately began to save their saves- they were both given oxygen. Leo hugged his brother as the two victims were escorted out of the room.

******

“Riley Brooks, aged 25. Stab wound in the lumbar region. She still has a pulse, but it’s weak. The bleeding is being controlled every so often, she needs immediate surgery.”

“Drake Walker, aged 28. He also had a stab wound to the back. His pulse is also weak. The bleeding is now controlled. But he needs to be seen urgently.”

The guests all waited all the bottom of the stairs. They heard the paramedic on the phone to ER. Madeline wasn’t lying. Their friends were fighting for their lives. Reality hit when they saw Riley and Drake’s bodies on stretchers, being escorted outside to the ambulances.

The friends all witnessed Liam barely holding it together. No wonder. Olivia walked over to him, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

“Li, they are both alive. They are both fighters. They will survive this and fight.”

Liam tried to compose himself, as he had an audience gawping at the scene.

“Liv... I can’t lose either of them. I’ll keep you all updated. Can you keep me updated on Kiara’s whereabouts? One thing I’m sure about- if they both die, Kiara’s a dead woman!”

[sendspoodsnotnoods]

Tarantula Care basics:

I've gotten tired of typing out "beginner tips" when people ask for them in Facebook groups, so I'm posting this as a resource to anyone who wants to get a tarantula but needs a place to start with researching. Please research elsewhere as well and be aware that there are many people who are successful at keeping tarantulas that may disagree on certain husbandry topics. This information is based off of the research I've done and how I care for my tarantulas. I may not be an expert with decades of experience, but I am a science minded individual who did a lot of research before getting my first tarantula and who has continued to learn each day I keep these beautiful animals as pets.

Temperatures-

No heat lamp, no heat pad. Fine at normal room temperature. If you're not cold neither is your tarantula. If your house is kinda cold get a space heater for the room you keep your tarantula in. Between 60-80F is fine for most tarantulas. Slightly below or slightly higher won't likely hurt them. If your house regularly goes below 60F then consider getting a space heater.

Enclosures-

Don't buy an enclosure until you know the size of the tarantula youre getting. You could be investing in a huge tank when all you're going to need for the next 5 years is a Tupperware or critter keeper. Give your tarantula at least 2x their legspan in all demensions of the enclosure. So a 2in. legspan tarantula needs at least a 4x4in enclosure minimum. Too large an enclosure may mean you struggle to find your tarantula or that your tarantula has a higher risk of falling and getting hurt. You can be generous with space without going overboard. For example a 3wx4Lx2h in. display case is a bit large for a 3/4 in. sling however it's much more appropriate than putting a tiny sling in a huge enclosure. Small slings are often kept in 4oz or 6oz deli cups and that is completely fine for a few months. Remember that you don't have to spend big bucks on glass enclosures. Often acrylic and plastic is more ideal for providing proper ventilation anyways. Explore stores like the Container Store for ideas. You can use anything from display cases to clear shoe boxes. Invest in a drill and get some 1/16th inch drill bits (that's what i use on sling enclosures, you can use a larger bit for bigger spiders).

You should know whether or not your tarantula is terrestrial (lives on or near the ground), arboreal (lives in trees), or fossorial (lives primarily underground). I won't discuss fossorials in depth in this post because I don't have any first hand experience, however the biggest difference between fossorial and terrestrial is you need to give them A LOT of substrate. Get them a tall enclosure and fill it most of the way with substrate. Most "beginner species" aren't fossorials so it's unlikely you'll be getting one soon unless you get an Aphomapelma seemanni. Tom Moran has a husbandry video on Aphonopelma seemanni if that's the species you're interested in getting.

Terrestrials should have at least enough substrate to burrow if they choose, so at least one leg span if possible. Do not give a terrestrial more than 2x their legspan between the surface of the substrate and the lid of their enclosure. They have very fragile abdomens and can die if they fall from even small heights. A terrestrial enclosure should be wider/longer than it is high.

Arboreals need an enclosure that is taller than it is wide. I like the AMAC boxes sold at the Container Store for slings, however other options include clear pill jars, plastic jars, and file boxes. Be creative. There are also glass exoterra enclosures that people like, however I personally don't like them because they don't give you enough cross ventilation and tarantulas can get their feet caught on the mesh/screen lids. I prefer something with cross ventilation (something where i can add a bunch of holes in the sides). Arboreals don't need that much substrate. Just provide enough to cover the bottom of the enclosure, help keep anything that you may place on the bottom of the enclosure in place, and absorb moisture.

Water and moisture-

You'll see some care sheets say that certain genera and species such as "Theraposa stirmi" (which I would not recommend for a beginner) need "high humidity". What they really need is wet substrate. "High humidity" species need their substrate to be soaked down more frequently or more generously. Many "beginner" terrestrial species are arid species (they live in drier climates). Nearly all Brachypelma, Grammostola, and Aphomapelma can be kept in the same type of enclosures. Give them dry substrate and a water dish, and overflow the dish a little when you fill it. Do not put rocks or a sponge in the dish. Tarantulas cannot drink from a sponge and rocks and gravel simply provide more surface area for mold to grow.

Small slings do not necessarily need a water dish. While they are small tarantulas lack the waxy curticle on their exoskeletons that keeps water in. Because they lack the cuticle they can get moisture from their substrate. Keep generally all terrestrial slings an moderately damp substrate and watch for mold growth.

Substrate-

There are a number of popular options including ecoearth (or another brand of coconut fiber substrate) and organic potting soil. Some people mix vermiculite in with their substrate but vermiculite shouldn't be used alone as a substrate. If you use potting soil ensure it's only soil and doesn't have added fertilizer or chemicals. Topsoil is heavy so doesnt need to be packed down. If you choose ecoearth or coconut fiber, it comes often in dense bricks. Add water to these bricks and pull them apart. You may need to do this ahead of time so you can let the coconut fiber dry off before you assemble the enclosure. Coconut fiber is loose and fluffy when you put it in the enclosure. Pat it down firmly with your hands otherwise the tarantula won't like walking on the substrate. Coconut fiber, topsoil, or specially designed tarantula substrates are all acceptable. Substrates NOT to use: sand, aquarium gravel, woodchips, mulch, pure vermiculite. The goal with a substrate is to provide a maxtrix that the tarantula won't mind walking on that will hold moisture and hold the shape of their burrows.

Tank accessories-

Hides- The most important accessory besides a water dish (which I recommend for all tarantulas besides tiny slings) for a terrestrial tarantula is a hide. This can be a plastic hide bought from a pet store, a piece of corkbark, flat or curved driftwood, a broken flower pot, or half a cup. Be creative. They can be as cheap as you want. Just be sure there aren't any super sharp edges. In a pinch you can make a hide from a plastic soda bottle. Cut out a portion of it and CAREFULLY use a lighter to curve the piece of plastic and melt the edges so that's theyre not sharp. I have used this technique a number of times. These hides then should be partially buried so that they are dark inside, but the opening is visible so they tarantula can use it as a starter burrow. Cork bark is very popular for hides and can be bought from a pet store or online. A variety of other hides can also be bought from pet stores. Anything that's half a cylinder and open on both sides will function well as a hide for your tarantula. A hide can be skipped with super small slings but should be provided once the enclosure is large enough. For slings I've used short parts of powdered drink tubes that I bury with one end exposed on the surface. You'd be amazed what junk you can cut up and use in an enclosure.

Tall anchor points- for arboreal tarantulas they need something that reaches close to the top of their enclosure so they have something that they can climb and use to anchor webbing. This can be a piece of corkbark on end, a pcv pipe, a log, silk plants, or anything! Corkbark and silk plants are the popular choices but you can use a 2x4 (nontreated wood) and paint sticks if you feel so inclined.

Low anchor points- all tarantulas can web, although some will do so more than others. A number of species, especially the popular "green bottle blue" are heavy webbers and should be provided with some anchor points even though they're terrestrial (even though some may argue sort of otherwise). These anchor points can simply be fake plants or something. Protip: fishtank plants are cheaper than terrarium plants and work just as well. Even cheaper are silk plants from craft stores. Just rinse and pat dry any tank accessories to remove dust from the store just in case. All tarantulas can benefit from some anchor points in their enclosures. Also adding a silk plant or two looks nice.

Food-

A tarantula can be fed practically any sort of feeder insect from meal worms to roaches to crickets. Meal worms, superworms, and dubia roaches will burrow if you let them, so before offering them to your tarantula you should pinch the feeder's head so that it is disabled but not entirely dead. Crickets are fine but can bite, so don't leave them unattended with a tarantula. Red runners (B. lateralis) are good but beware that they can infest your home if they escape, so use caution. Hornworms can make an occasional nutrional treat, however only use store bought worms. If hornworms have eaten tomato plants it can make them toxic to anything that eats them. On that note: NEVER feed wild caught prey of any kind. Wild caught feeders may carry parasites such as nematodes that can be passed to your tarantula and may eventually kill them. Purchase feeders from a pet store, online supplier, local breeders (some people will breed colonies of feeders), or from vendors at an expo.

Feed your tarantula a prey item around the size of their abdomen once every week or two if they will eat. If you don't have larger prey items you can feed them a couple at once. If they stop eating do not be alarmed, they might just be full, or they may be in premolt. Some species can fast for up to a year, so you tarantula is not going to die from self inflicted starvation. If it wants to eat it will. If it's not eating then remove the prey and try again in a week or two. If your tarantula is really fat, perhaps just wait to try feeding until it gets skinnier or molts.

Molting-

Tarantulas have an exoskeleton which does not grow with them. Because of that, like all arthropods they will molt, where they shed their old exoskeleton. They will likely stop eating. Premolt, or the period where they may stop eating and perhaps become more elusive or even close themselve off in their burrow, may last anywhere from a week to months, to a year in severe cases. Sometimes they will get duller in color during premolt, their abdomens may get black and shiny, and they may lose hair on their abdomens. If they refuse food and/or seal off the entrance to their burrrow, then leave them be, continue to fill their water dish, and wait to offer food again until they start wandering around their enclosure again.

When a tarantula molts it usually flips over on it's back. DO NOT TOUCH IT. They are very fragile during and after a molt. A molt can take anywhere from half an hour to 8 hours depending on the size of the tarantula. Do not intervene, just make sure they have water and leave them alone. After they have left their old exoskeleton they will be very vulnerable. The new exoskeleton is very soft and takes awhile to harden. Wait 1-2 weeks before you feed them. Best to go on the side of caution and wait 2 weeks if you're in doubt. What's important here is you wait until their new fangs have fully hardened and turned shiny and dark black. After 2 weeks it should be safe to feed. Remember, your tarantula is fine going awhile without eating, waiting an extra week or two isn't neglectful. Just keep its water dish filled and it will be ok.

Useful tools-

Feeding tongs: a must have. They can be purchased at a pet store or online. You'll need them for feeding and for removing things from the enclosure.

Paintbrush or makeup brush: a soft and clean paintbrush or makeup brush can be used to gently touch the back legs of a tarantula and coax it where you need it to go.

Plastic straw: just rinse and save one after a trip to a fast food place. Used for the same use as the paintbrush, but more useful if you have a tarantula that tries to bite (a plastic straw will not hurt their fangs if they bite it)

Wooden chopsticks: I don't see this on many lists but I've found chopsticks can be useful for pushing prey around if they're "playing dead" or for cleaning an enclosure (once again the wood is safer for fangs than metal tongs, however still attempt to avoid having your tarantula bite the chopsticks).

Plastic spoon: i guess it doesnt have to be plastic but thats what i use. Just keep one around. Its good for packing down substrate in enclosures that are too small to reach your hands into, and for digging starter burrows when assembling an enclosure.

Spray bottle: get a clean plastic water bottle for filling water dishes, misting, and wetting substrate. You can buy an empty spray bottle with an adjustable stream from Walmart for a dollar or two. Look near the household cleaning supplies.

Catch cups: collect a variety of clear or translucent plastic cups and bowls that you can poke air holes in. Always have a few catch cups and some flat pieces of cardboard that can cover them around when you open an enclosure. Should a tarantula escape, wait for it to stop moving, place the cup over it, and gently slide cardboard underneath. I bought a pack of clear solo cups a year ago and those are what I most commonly use. Empty containers from shredded cheese work well too and keep those lids in case you want to use them as sling enclosures later on.

Pocket knife: not everyone does this, but I have one old pocket knife that is my feeder insect knife. Sometimes you need to cut mealworms in half for smaller slings, that is the knife I use. Afterwards I wipe the blade off and close it and keep it with the rest of my tarantula tools.

You will discover what tools you find work for you after you have been caring for a tarantula for awhile. At the bare minimum get feeding tongs, a plastic straw, and some catch cups.

Conclusions, disclaimers, and further reading:

This guide is from my personal experience and research, however my opinions may vary from those of other keepers and hobbyists. This advice is based off of the care I provide for my tarantulas however you may find different care works better for you. I highly recommend you read through Tom Moran's beginner guides https://tomsbigspiders.com/beginner-guides/

Browse the forums on arachnoboards. There are many good youtube channels out there as well but some are more informative than others. I highly recommend Tom Moran for husbandry information. He may not be the most exciting and attention grabbing channel, but he has the most comprehensive and well phrased husbandry information than any other single person I've come across.

Each individual species is different and you should research the care and temperment of your particular species, but I encourage you not to trust traditional "care sheets" as many are misleading. I recommend using Tom Moran's content as a resource and asking questions on arachnoboards and other forums if you have further questions. Good luck and welcome to the hobby!

[itsgonnabe-brian-may]

You’re Just Being Nice

Requested by: @finnofamerica : 

I was wondering if I could get a Brian x reader kinda slow burn where the reader is a musician, but she's also the audio tech helping them with their album? She kinda awkward, but she gets all wistful and starry-eyed (bouncing unabashedly when she gets excited) when she talks about music and bounces ideas off of them. Thank you so much in advance, even if you don't feel the inspiration. ❤❤

I literally am so happy that you wanted little ol me to write this, it was an absolute pleasure and so much fun! I hope you like it and it does your idea justice :) 

Brian May x Reader

wc: 2.7k words

Warnings: some swear words and kissing but other than that none

// 

Oh, the 70's. The time where everybody wanted to be a rockstar. Or more they just wanted to live the lifestyle. Hot chicks, booze, drugs, music and the thrill of being on stage in front of a crowd sounded appealing to anyone in their right mind. However, the hard work and dedication it took to get there sounded anything but appealing. You and a few other hopefuls didn't mind. Gladly you poured your entire soul into the shot at being able to make it big. Being brought up in a family that was supportive sure helped, but that didn't mean they paid for your expensive recording sessions and gig fees. That money came from hard work from odd jobs. You had been a barista, bartender, door holder, waitress, busboy, elevator operator, guitar stringer, music store clerk, shoe store restocker and about twenty more jobs that offered any sort of cash fast. Nothing really stuck, now you were on the hunt to find a longer lasting job, hopefully in the music industry, that you could keep while recording your first album with your band. You were over the moon excited that you finally had a band that stuck together for longer than six months and the other 4 members were an absolute dream to work with.

There was Mark, a long-haired hippie who absolutely killed it on bass guitar. Then Sandy, who was the lead singer and always made sure that her outfit matched her eyeshadow, which was impressive with the multicolored outfits she sported. Rene was next, he was the only one who could play the drums and make it match any emotion, he could even make you cry. On the keys and sometimes guitar was Ricky, he was kind of the oddball of the group with a clean haircut that looked so professional that people were always surprised to find out he was in the band, not the manager. You guys had definitely taken advantage of that a few too many times. And last but not least there was you, Y/N. The starry-eyed and unapologetically enthusiastic guitarist and back up singer after some persuading, and maybe a few beers. 

Your job hunted ended when you reached a small recording studio that had a "help wanted" flyer hanging to the telephone pole outside by one staple. You walked in just as 4 men walked out, babbling something about a perfectly good van. 

By the end of an interview, you had scored a better deal than you had imagined. You would help out as an audio tech for the late night bands and your band would get the first slot in the morning to record, after a few months of working hard. 

That is exactly what you did. You started out shadowing and watching the other audio techs work and fiddle with the sounds. Never quite sure of what to do or what to say, you came off as the cute shy and awkward girl who stood in the back. At least that's how Queen would describe you when they encountered you. 

You didn't really meet them until a month after you started working. The head audio tech had to leave early so you were left to wrap up. Giving them a small smile you continued to do what the other tech was doing. Except Freddie wasn't having any of it. He was growing bored and started prompting you randomly about your opinions on the piece or on music in general. 

Your eyes lit up each time you got the opportunity to talk. Answering with well thought out and enthusiastic statements. Eventually, Brian joined in on the questions. The questions weren't all about music, but most of them got tied back to music. Roger and John joined in and it turned into a game of asking and answering all sorts of questions until their time slot was up. 

You worked with them until they had released their first album, you were even invited to their celebration party. By the time the party was in full swing, you were kind of done with the loud music and alcohol-fueled chaos. Grabbing your half-empty beer bottle you headed outside to get some desperately needed fresh air. To your surprise you found Brian leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, glass in one hand, staring out into the early morning sky. 

"What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be inside celebrating your success?" You hummed leaning against the same wall next to him. 

"Just getting some air, And shouldn't I say the same to you? We wouldn't have an album without you," Brian responded, his voice slightly tired and raspy from the cool summer air. 

"You're just being kind, It's hard work to get as far as you guys have, give yourself some credit," 

"Now your being kind," Brian chuckled and turned his head to look at you. 

You laughed in return and the small talk turned into a deep conversation that leads you to abandon your beers and sit on the step back up to the house. Both of you were only looking at each other's eyes as you talked. You noticed how Brian's dilated when he was talking about his guitar and ideas that he had for music. Brian noticed how yours caught the moonlight and shimmered as you went on about techniques and riff's that blew your mind. To be honest he would have been lost in your eyes like he was in the sky if he wasn't so interested in what you were saying. 

"God, I would love to work on an album from start to finish," You dreamed out loud, your smile wide and your mind caught up in playing out the dream.

"Then do our next album," Brian blurted out. 

"You're just saying that Bri, I'm not nearly talented enough to do that," 

"You certainly are, sweetheart," He smiled back. 

"I'll only go if the other's say it's okay, I'd hate to be intrusive," You laughed off the offer not expecting their answer to actually be yes. 

That's how you ended up standing in the recording booth on Ridge Farm. Well not exactly. That's how you ended up as the head audio tech on Bohemian Rhapsody. How you ended up with a guitar on the other side of the glass was another story. 

-

Queen was weeks over schedule and everyone's patience was clearly wearing thin. John kept fumbling up bass lines where Fred couldn't hit the notes every time. Roger had broken most of the drum sticks, you teased that he would have to break some sticks off of the tree's to be able to play. Even the man who you had become so fascinated with and believed was perfect couldn't figure it out.

At first, he was fumbling with hitting some of the higher notes. Then he could barely get a simple riff right. Strings of swear words made the recording stop rather than the missed note. His brow was furrowed with frustration rather than concentration. The sweat collected on his forehead, glistening in the right lighting.

"Fuck," Brian cursed brashly for what seemed like the millionth time. 

"Don't you think a break is in order?" Fred asked into the mic gently, not wanting to cause Brian more anger and frustration. 

"No, I've got it, roll it one more time," He snapped back shaking out his hands and starting up again. 

Unsurprisingly he did not have it that time, or the next, or the next 8 times after that. 

"Come on Bri your nearly there, maybe take it a little slower-" You offered hesitantly into the mic.

You had been given the okay to give feedback whenever you felt like it by the boys in a unanimous vote. Yet, you rarely did, you didn't feel like it was your place to criticize one of the best bands of all time. Normally you would say something to Brian to bring up when they met together all alone. 

Brian just shot you a look filled with daggers and you put your hands up in surrender. 

He ended up playing faster than before, meaning he messed up sooner and got even more upset. The rest of the boys weren't about to say anything as Brian restarted for the actual millionth time. They didn't want an angry Brian, it was always best to let him cool off on his own. You, however, were worried and didn't want him to keep suffering. 

"Brian, Stop," You said harshly into the mic cutting him off before he could mess up again. 

"What the hell Y/N, I had it this time," Brian said throwing his hands up from his guitar. He was angry and didn't care that it was you. 

"You said that the last 300 times, you need to slow down and take a break," You reasoned, your tone becoming softer and caring rather than confrontational. 

"Then you fucking do it, Y/N, I'd like to see you try," Brian snapped, his body language backed up the challenge he was offering. 

The next thing you knew you were standing with all your weight on one foot with Brians prized guitar in your hands. The other boys clearly intrigued at what was going on had stood up to watch through the glass. Roger wore a smug smirk

"Here goes nothing," you muttered to yourself as you plucked the first few cords. 

Getting lost in the music your head bobbed up and down as your fingers danced on the strings delicately. Your eyes snapped shut as you neared the spot where Brian kept messing up. Instead of speeding up, you held a note longer and added a nice vibrato to the string to create a sense of anticipation before quietly starting the tricky riff. As your fingers moved in unison you strummed harder gradually increasing the volume as you reached the end of the difficult section. Opening your eyes you bopped around slightly finishing up the song. 

"Ta-da," You said with a straight face before erupting in laughter. 

Your laughter lit up the room and all the frustrations where gone. The rest of the band stared at you in awe, they knew you were talented but had no idea you could play that well. Brian had to full on stop himself for running in there and picking you up in a hug. 

"Y/N! That was bloody brilliant!" Roger said, regretting the attitude he gave you earlier. 

"Seriously, where'd you learn to play like that?" Brian asked as you put his guitar gently back on its stand. 

"You're not the only aspiring rock stars boys, girls can have some fun too," you laughed joining them on the other side of the glass.

"Maybe you should replace Brian," John teased with a grin that made his eyes crinkle. 

"Nonsense," you laughed. 

"Why don't you give it a shot Bri, try to outshine me," 

"I would never dream of that love," Brian smiled back, finding himself looking back into your starry eyes. 

"Oi, maybe quit flirting and try to play before we really do replace you," Roger called nodding his head in the direction of the booth. 

Brian just rolled his eyes and walked into the booth. Picking up his guitar and began playing, trying to match what you had just done. Obviously, he put his own spin on it but it was the only take needed and his section was done. You told him it was because he finally took a break and listened to your advice to slow down, but he knew it was because your fingers had somehow blessed his guitar. 

Naturally, the other boys wanted the same special attention you gave to Brian over the next couple days you bounced ideas back and forth for each of their parts for the remaining songs. Because of you, the album was finally almost finished. All that was left was the ridiculous amount of Galileos left for Roger to sing. 

"Higher," 

"Jesus how many more do you want," 

"Just one more," 

"Who even is he?" 

"Just one more Rog, do it for me," You sang into the intercom. 

He just rolled his eyes and attempted it one last time.

"Perfect!, Now pan it right and left," You told the other audio tech, who had pretty much just become your assistant, even though he was technically your superior. 

"Right, now let's listen to it?" You asked the rest of the boys once Roger had joined you again. 

They nodded and you pressed the play button with an audible click before the track started rolling. 

It wasn't long before you were bouncing up and down along with the beat. Brian watched with amusement as he rocked back and forth with the wails of his guitar. Everyone was anticipating their parts and grinning like mad when they heard how good it sounded along with the other parts. The last strokes of the piano sent them into a cheered frenzy. 

"That was brilliant!!" Brian called, this time not hesitating to pick you up and spin you around in a celebratory hug. You squealed in surprise and wrapped your arms around him to steady yourself. Once he put you down, Freddie pulled you into another celebratory hug, but the feeling was different. Shortly after, you felt the arms of the other boys around you as they closed in with a group hug. 

"Well done boys, I really mean it!" You grinned excitedly. 

"You too Y/N, we couldn't have done it without you," John said pulling you into a hug of his own. 

None of you guys could wipe the smile off of your faces on your way back to the house, or at dinner. The smiles were still there the next morning at breakfast and while you were packing up instruments and equipment and lugging it into you're equipment van. Brian had offered to drive it back so you could sleep on the bus. 

"Brian, you're just being nice," You said shaking your head at his off his offer.

"I can drive back on my own," 

"I know sweetheart, but I want to help out, you've done so much for us already," He argued lightly taking a step closer to the van and you. 

Your heart soared at the nickname but didn't get too distracted by it. 

"It's really nothing Bri, I'm happy to do it," You smiled.

"especially for you," You muttered under your breath before you could stop yourself. 

"Now you're the one just being nice," He smirked, blushing slightly at what you had said. 

"Really? How's that?" You prompted, your voice intertwined with a mischievous smile. 

"Especially for you... I heard that sweetheart," He said taking a hesitant step forward, closing the gap between the two of you. 

You gasped slightly, your face contorting with embarrassment. 

"You weren't meant to hear that part..." you said looking at your feet.  

Brian stayed silent, which caused you to look up at him. His eyes met yours and you knew exactly what he was going to do next, so it didn't surprise you that he reached out and delicately cupped your cheek. You met him by leaning forwards, lips meeting his in a soft spark. His lips were soft against your slightly chapped ones, but it didn't matter it felt amazing. You smiled softly against his lips before pulling away gently.

Brian's eyes filled with amusement with a tinge of concern. 

"You're going to tell me I'm just being nice aren't you," He mused looking at you trying to gauge your reaction. 

"No, I was going to tell you that it was really nice and would be nice if we could keep doing that," You smiled back.

"Now you're really just being nice," He teased.

You playfully pushed his shoulder away from you, laughing at his remark.

"If I was I wouldn't do this again would I?" You said before leaning in again kissing him with a little more passion than before.

"You're definitely riding with her if all your going to do it make out in the back!" Roger called as the rest of the band walked out and with their final bags in tow.  

"Oh, I was already planning on it Rog, we have at least a little decency." Brian teased opening the passenger side door for you before hopping in the driver's side.

Once you were in and the other van started down the dirt and gravel road Brian interlaced his fingers with your and started back to London with the success of a new album and scoring you as his girlfriend. At the moment he wasn't sure which was better, but it turned out to be you.