#I am deep down meant to be a jeans and leather jacket and t-shirt bitch!!

[katierosefun]

pros of donating clothes that you no longer wear: lighter closet, less to pack, truly less burdened by unwanted items

cons of donating clothes that you no longer wear: you now have two pairs of jeans and maybe six shirts

[luckyasfuck]

back seat of his car [k. bakugou]

pairing // katsuki x fem!reader

warnings/themes // NSFW, mafia leader!katsuki, illegal racer!katsuki, mentions of stalker!reader, gun violence, katsuki point his gun at your neck, katsuki checks under your skirt without conset, slight knife play, breeding kink, creampie,

synopsis // finally gathering your courage to confess to the guy you’ve been admiring, the night takes a dark turn when he assumes you’re working for his enemy, and all the secrets unfold.

word count // 2.5k

a/n // i am aware that race cars don’t have passenger seats nor back seats, just shut up and read already.

tonight was exciting. the skirt you wore hung beautifully around your hips, giving your thighs the attention they very much deserve. the nights were always cold, but you’d do anything to get bakugou katsuki to glance at your way. tonight was the night you’d finally make a move after practically stalking the male car racer for weeks now. it was obvious he knew about your ministrations, he’d look back here and there and become more cautious as the nights dragged out. 

a black face mask covers your face, the competition was illegal and it would be a bitch to be caught by those bastards that call themselves cops. boots clicking on the pavement, you speed-walked to the street. the muffled screams and sounds of cars grew louder as you turn the corner, already seeing people cheering the racers on. pushing through the crowd, you manage to slip through the dudes that called themselves ‘guards’ and onto the road. a quick span around the area and you see him.

katsuki is wearing a black leather jacket, his infamous skull shirt underneath and black pants to match the aesthetic of his black racer car. his blonde hair is messy as he takes off his helmet, leaning on the car. you gulp, could you really do this? the satisfying click of your boots makes the respected racer glance at you, eyeing you up and down. with a quick and confident, you eye his car. “that’s a really fucking pretty car.”

he scoffs, “you competing here, woman? don’t even try.” he clicks his tongue. “why? cause i’m a woman?” a death glare is sent his way before you chuckle, leaning on his car too. “no, cause it’s really risky. police are gonna raid this area any second now, that’s why i parked here near this alleyway just incase.” 

huh? “and how would you know that?” the crowd screams louder and your voice is barely heard, new racers coming in from all areas. the sound of their car engines fill the silent night and you watch katsuki pull his phone out, texting someone. this fumes you, does he have a girlfriend or something? i’ll fucking kill her-

“so,” the phone is shoved back inside his pocket, now his attention is all on you. half-lidded vermillion eyes stare into yours as he smirked, putting his hand inside his pocket. “where’s your car?” his eyes span the area, looking for a car that you might own and use. “oh, i’m not racing.”  this response shocks him, looking at you with knotted eyebrows and his head tilted slightly to the side. 

“how’d you get past those guys?” the ‘guards’ push the crowd away harshly, preventing them from entering the road. they push, throw, do anything to keep the crowd at bay. they’re pretty big guys so they don’t get beat up that easily. “i’m a woman.” you reply with a giggle.

“and i may have told them i know you.” 

the blonde’s phone dings with a notification, “do you really know me now?” he reads through the text with a smirk. muffled police sirens are heard and the crowd silences for a minute before everybody’s frantically exiting the street, the car racers getting in their car and driving off full speed.

fuck, where you gonna go no-

the sound of a car door opening breaks you from your trance as you see flashes of red and blue lights rounding the corner. “get in.” katsuki rushes to his side of the car and without a thought, you enter his car. with a quick and professional manuever, the both of you are rushing through the empty and dark alleyway in seconds. the darkness seems endless until the blonde turns the corner and stops. looking back, he squints his glowing red eyes to check for any police cars. 

a relieved sigh leaves his lips and he gets out the vehicle, leaving you confused. a hand opens your side of the car and you’re yanked outside harshly, “what the fuck?!” a loud thud fills the silent alleyway as your back hits the hard concrete. a sound of metal is heard and the next thing you knew, katsuki has you pinned on the wall with a gun held straight to your throat. “don’t fucking think i haven’t seen you lurking around.” 

how were you supposed to know that your harmless stalking sessions meant so much to him? you gulped, forcing yourself back on the wall trying to detatch your sweating neck from his cold gun. “you working for deku or something, hm?” the weapon is shoved into your skin more and your eyes close in fear. “i... i don’t know who that is.”

katsuki tears the weapon away from you and the sound of a loud bang makes you whimper, eyes tearing up. “oh really, now?” opening your eyes, a tear trickles down your cheek as you looked up at his hand pointing the gun he just shot to the sky. noticing this, katsuki puts it back in it’s place against your neck. “i- i really don’t! i just stalked you... cause- cause i liked you and you’re- you’re hot.” you admitted, fearing for your life. 

ignoring the confession, katsuki kneels down and using his unoccupied hand, he uses the flashlight on his phone. his hand hoists your skirt up without warning, attaching the hem to your waistband as he shined the flashlight on your thigh. expecting to see the symbol for deku’s little clan on your thigh, his hand is already on the trigger, ready to pull it and end your life.

but he saw nothing, just your bare, quivering thighs. and maybe your lace panties too, but he looked away before he could stare at it for too look. with a harsh movement, he fixes your skirt and pulls the weapon away from your neck before grabbing your collar and staring right into your eyes.

“listen here, you fucker. you like me don’t you?” a relieved sigh leaves your lips and you nod, staring back into his lust-filled eyes. “i’ve been fucking stressed lately, and you fucking added to that. so let me fuck you into oblivion as a punishment.” the straight forward statement made your pussy wet.

it was the fact that he still asked that made you agree, even after you life was fucking threatened 30 seconds ago. katsuki bakugou may be bad, but he’ll never stoop to that level. plus, it could be a form of sorry for pointing a gun to your neck and almost pulling the trigger. in the back of his head, he made sure he would make you feel like a fucking princess.

it was an ‘in the moment’ kind of thing, the car was heated and condensation pooled at the windows as you and katsuki made out with each other, his thigh making its way in between your legs to rub your clit on the rough material of his jeans. the shirt you wore was cut open by the knife he kept in his pocket and in an instant, he attacks your collarbones and a hand creeps up to cup your boob under your matching lace bra, your nipple being twisted around by his fingers. “you fucking slut. you absolute whore. getting off to someone who almost ended your life? yeah, you want this cock in your slutty fucking pussy, don’t you?” 

without you noticing, he had ripped off his leather jacket and shirt. you drooled over his toned torso, admiring his abs and the slight hint of a blonde happy trail leading straight down into his pants. unconsciously, your hand goes to graze your fingers down his bare upper-half, trailing down the blonde hair leading you to where you wanted to touch before you cupped the large tent in his pants “yes, i want it.” you whimpered out, squeezing his bulge slightly, making him grunt.

katsuki massages your inner thigh as his unoccupied hand goes to unzip his fly and rid himself of any remaining clothes. as soon as his underwear is out of the way, his cock slaps right against his lower stomach and you stare in awe, gulping. the size and girth intimidated you, but this is exactly what you wanted. he strokes himself a few times before teasing your sensitive clit with his tip, moaning at the feeling of your lace panties against his slit. your panties are soon yanked off, katsuki leaving them dangling off your ankle as he propped himself between you, hands pinning your wrists above your head and your legs hoisted up on his shoulders. 

he angles his cock to tease at your entrance, smirking at you. “come on, beg for it.” the tip goes in and out of you and you whimper out in a frantic state, “please! just- just put it in already, i want it, i want it, i want it- fuck!” your toes curl in both pleasure and pain when katsuki slams inside your without warning. the stretch burned, he was probably the biggest thing you’ve put inside you in a while. his hips still and he looks down, admiring the way your cunt swallowed him up, feeling you clench around him. “good girl.” an unoccupied hand grips your hips as he started to thrust into you slowly before gradually picking up the pace until he was pounding into you.

the car shook back and forth as the racer railed you in the backseat, skin slapping and moans prominent even outside the car. “fuck! t-too deep, bakugou, too-” a pair of lips slam into yours, cutting your sentence off. katsuki ignores your complaints and lets out a dark chuckle. “am i hitting your womb, slut? that’s what you wanted, right? you want me to fuck my babies into you so you’ll be swollen for nine months.”

“ye-”

“no. we can’t have my little fuck toy be too sensitive for sex, right? you’re my fuck toy, my cumslut. mafia boys like me are always stressed and need obedient girls like you with tight fucking cunts to keep sane.” there’s no time to think about the term he used for himself as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mind going blank as you neared your orgasm. cumming all over his cock with a loud moan, your legs quiver as katsuki goes faster and sloppier, chasing his own orgasm. his hips stutter when he cums, painting your insides his shade of white. a few more thrusts and he pulls out of you, panting. he stares straight at your glistening pussy, watching his semen slowly seep out of you.

the sight makes whimper, feeling himself getting hard all over again. “i hope you can take more, princess.” the grip on both your wrists becomes tighter and you let out a loud moan, tears spilling from your eyes down your cheeks as katsuki bottoms out inside you for the second time that night. “’cause i’m not stopping for anything.” he doesn’t wait for anything and starts pounding into you again, abusing that sweet little hole of yours. “bakugou! fuck! too much!” your legs quiver, but his speed doesn’t falter. instead, he goes faster.

lips attach to suck on the supple skin of your neck, “call me katsuki.” he whispers, biting your neck softly. “k-katsuki, gonna cum again.” you cried out, fingernails digging into the hand that kept your hands at place. “then cum, cum all over this cock again. no one, and i repeat, no one is ever gonna make you feel this good. got it?” the question is left unanswered when a loud moan erupts from your throat as you came. katsuki follows a few thrusts after, moaning uncontrollably.

the both of you pant, a heavy layer of sweat covering both your bodies. katsuki pulls out of you, instantly replacing his cock with two of his fingers, making you jump as he scissors them inside you. “katsuki, n-no more... please...” you begged, whining.

“shh...” he calms you down, pulling his fingers out and prodding them at your lips. “suck.” the command instantly has your lips encaging around his fingers covered in both of your love juices. a moan escapes your lips at the taste, pulling away once you’ve lapped all of it up. the car becomes silent, katsuki taking a roll of tissue from the corner of his car, starting to clean you up. large arms gently keep you from jumping up from the overstim. “just a little more, it would be uncomfortable if you had cum dripping all over your thighs.” a choked ‘okay’ leaves your lips as he cleaned up the remnants of his orgasm. 

“there,” the window opens and katsuki throws the used tissues outside. “are you hurt anywhere?” he helps you sit yourself up on his lap gently, his red eyes looking all over your body for any bruises he might have left. “i’m fine, thanks.” you panted out, smiling at him. the blonde looks away, gently setting you down and handing you his shirt. “sorry for tearing yours.” he picks up his clothes and the weapons on the ground, starting to dress himself. you did the same, heart jumping in joy at his scent on the shirt. 

the both of you climb to the drivers and passenger seat, katsuki still half-naked. the black jacket is thrown to your exposed thighs and you look at him in confusion. “you’ll get cold-” a hand keeps the jacket on your thighs as the car starts. “i can handle it.” he started to drive through the rest of the alleyway. “whatever you say.” you stay put in your seat.

“i’m... part of a mafia group.” katsuki starts. “deku, the guy i assumed you work for, he wants my head. i don’t know why, but i am sure not losing to a broccoli looking headass. and since you couldn’t mind your fucking business, you’re involved now.”

“how so?”

“i need to keep you at arms length. not to protect you or anything! it’s so you can’t go around telling everybody, and i still don’t know if you really work for that bastard or not.” the car rounds into an abandoned street. god, you were gonna get killed, weren’t you? you thought as he stopped at a worn out house, stepping out the car. “come on.” 

his footsteps are loud, and you do follow him. he left his weapon inside the car, as if to make you trust him. “we were pretty sure that you worked for deku, but i think you’re too dumb for that. don’t be surprised.” the blonde warns as you both near the door. nothing was heard inside. katsuki opens the door and in an instant, metal clads with metal and 6 guns are pointed straight at you. but with a raise of katsuki’s hand, all the guns are put down. you shook uncontrollably in your spot, maybe the fact that you could barely walk from what you guys did earlier. “she doesn’t work for dek-”

“she’s pretty.” another blonde smiles at you, waving and winking. as you’re about to wave back awkwardly, katsuki pulls you beside him by your waist. “don’t even fucking try, denki.”

“she’s mine.”

[sillyrabbit81]

Her Heavy Cross

Summary: Three years after tragedy hits, Lana she decides to start dating again. She meets Will through a dating app and they begin an online romance. After months of constant requests, Lana relents and agrees to meet and go on an irl date with Will. But is Will who he says he is? Lana is quickly pulled into an intense relationship forcing her to confront her tragic past. Will Lana face it or will she close her heart forever?

Pairing: OMC x OFC

Word Count: approx 3k

Warnings: swearing, angst, implied smut

Authors Note: The story started as a Henry Cavill fanfiction but I changed it to be an original character, but shades of Henry are still there. Hope you enjoy the story and thanks for reading.

Part 10 Part 12

Part 11

The next few days were monotonous. Most mornings, I would go to the gym. Then I'd head off to work. After work, I'd take Perrin for a walk. We stopped at the dog park a few times to throw the ball. Then I'd go home and read or watch tv. After dinner, I would FaceTime Liam before falling asleep.

Although I missed him terribly, it had been good to have some space. I was able to think about us a bit. Liam was always great on the phone, a gentleman even. Yes, he flirted with me and made inappropriate comments, but they were always in context. I'd be lying if I said I didn't flirt with him back. But it was nice to get to know him better, and I decided I definitely liked him as a person and a lover. He was sweet, sincere, funny and warm, the same as he was when he was Will. He seemed to accept who I was. There were no digs at me, maybe some friendly ribbing, but it seemed he liked me too. We spent a lot of time laughing. We had a similar sense of humour.

He opened up about some of his past relationships, how he felt about them and what went wrong. A lot of the times, he admitted to fault, especially in the early ones. I talked a bit about Andy but kept a lot back. No doubt, he noticed.

Thursday afternoon changed everything.

Liam called me when I was driving home from work at about four-thirty. It broke with our routine. We usually spoke around nine o'clock. I answered the phone, and Liam's voice came through the speakers.

"Hello, Sweetheart. How was your day?"

I smiled at this now familiar greeting. "Really good, Liam. How was yours? Have you finished work already?"

"Yeah, good. I'm supposed to stay for another hour, but I wasn't needed, so I left." Liam paused and said, "Listen, Lana, I have to tell you something."

"Oh, no."

"Yesterday, a parent from your school saw the pictures of us." I went cold. I was 10 minutes from my house, but I pulled over. "She left a message on one of the pictures that you look like a teacher from her kid's school." Oh shit. "Anyway, this morning, you were on duty at the "kiss and drop", whatever that is."

Robotically I said, "it's where the parents drop the kids off at school without getting out of the car." I could see where this is as going.

"Right." He sounded strange but continued. "Well, they took a picture of you, put that side by side with the others. Long story short, Sarah was called to confirm your name."

"Oh, for fucks sake." I was pissed off. "What did she tell them?"

"She said she couldn't confirm or deny."

"In other words, yes, but my boss said, don't say anything."

"That's a bit unfair, Lana. She can't lie to them, or they won't bother calling her when they get a story. They will just run it because they can't trust what she says."

"Fuck this," I said and hung up on Liam.

I slammed my foot down on the accelerator and spun the tires. I had a Toyota Camry SX. It's sort of sporty, but it's not meant to be driven like that, but I was fuming. Liam rang again, but I ignored it. I backed off and slightly and rounded a corner, tires chirping as I went. I fumbled in my bag, driving one-handed until I found and lit a cigarette. As stupid as it was, I drove the rest of the way home like that.

When I got home, I quickly changed into my Draggin jeans, leather jacket and riding boots. I grabbed my helmet, gloves and went for a ride.

I loved being on the bike. Andy was the first guy I'd been with who rode. I remembered the first time he got me on the bike. He hadn't even let the clutch out, and I screamed and jumped off. The second time was better, and I went around the block before I got off. The third time, I was hooked. I loved holding onto his waist as we rode, my chest pressed against his back, my thighs touching his, my hands under his t-shirt. I loved the heavy thrumming of the bike, the wind whistling past. It was exciting, erotic, but also calming. Calming is what I needed.

I was so angry. Not at Liam or Sarah. Or even the bitch who outed me or the others who put my photo out there in the first place. I didn't know who I was angry with. Hollywood? Gossip? Social media? Myself? Maybe I was mad at myself. I deserved it. I'd turned my back on Andy, fucked another guy, and now I'm in a relationship with him, according to public record. Every time someone googles my name, his will come up.

The parents at school will give me looks, and I won't know what they are thinking. Will they be laughing at me? And if it didn't work out, everyone would know. I would have to go through a break up while everyone watched, picked at it, chose sides and commented.

I rode for about an hour up through the Blue Mountains. When I stopped for petrol at Wentworth Falls, my thoughts had settled, and I was thinking clearer. I stopped at a cafe, got a coffee and checked my phone. Liam had called twice more and sent a few messages. Riza had called and texted me.

I checked Riza's first. It was a link to an article, Liam Cross's Secret Aussie Lover. Her text simply said, "Jen just found this. Call me if you need me." I didn't click the link.

I checked Liam's. He said he wants to make sure I'm ok. Then he said he wants to come over and talk to me.

I called Liam. He seemed to answer before it even rang. "Sweetheart. Are you ok?" He sounded a bit frantic.

I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry I snapped at you."

"I knew you'd be upset."

"Upset is one thing. I snapped at you and blamed Sarah. You're right. It's not her fault."

"Lana, don't worry about that. Did you read the article?"

"No."

Liam was quiet a while. Then he said, "Are you ok now?"

"Yeah, I'm ok. I just needed some time to calm down." I let out a short laugh. "I am a redhead after all. I have a temper."

Liam laughed, "Do I have to be worried about being stabbed in my sleep?"

"Nah, being a redhead wouldn't make me do that. I get that part of me from being a Scorpio."

"I don't know whether to be scared or turned on right now."

I smirked, "Why not be both?"

Liam laughed and then got serious. "You sure you're ok? Do you want me to come over? I almost did get in my car when you wouldn't answer."

"Stalker," I teased.

"And that's why I didn't."

"I'm not at home anyway."

"Where are you?"

"I took off on the bike to clear my head. I'm in the mountains right now."

"The mountains?"

"Yeah, the Blue Mountains. Look west tomorrow, and you'll see them."

"I'll do that." Liam paused. "I'm really looking forward to seeing you tomorrow."

"I'm looking forward to seeing you too. Bye, Liam."

"Bye, Sweetheart."

I finished my coffee and rode home.

I texted Riza to let her know I was ok. I played with Perrin. I texted my brother to remind him to pick Perrin up tomorrow afternoon. I ate some dinner before packing my bag for tomorrow and went to bed. It was a long time before I finally fell into a restless sleep.

Liam Cross's Secret Aussie Lover

"Pictures of Liam Cross, 38, with an unknown female were circulating on social media earlier this week, and tongues were set wagging.

"Users were quick to put their detective hats on and tracked down Cross's new flame late yesterday. The woman was identified as Mrs Alana Walker, 30, Sydneysider, and special education teacher. Not much else is known about Mrs Walker other than she was widowed in 2017.  Her husband, Andrew Walker, and father Brian Kelly were killed in a horrific Boxing Day crash when his car was destroyed by a truck driver who had a medical incident behind the wheel.

"Sources close to Cross say that he has been elated the past couple of months, and now they know why. They hope for his sake that this relationship will not be plagued by scandal like his previous relationships.

"For now, Cross's camp is remaining tight-lipped on the situation. While they don't deny a relationship, they will not confirm it.

"Cross is currently in Sydney for an adaptation of the widely popular and romantic fantasy epic Beyond the Stones series by C. W. Taylor. He will co-star alongside Australian Myra Roberts with an expected release in the northern hemisphere winter of 2022."

I woke on Friday morning and laid in bed for a while. I should have gone to the gym, but I just couldn't get my body to move. I wanted to chuck a sickie, blow off the whole day, maybe go for a swim, or just watch movies all day. I had an urge to watch Kill Bill for some reason. But I couldn't do that to the kids.

I knew I was just trying to avoid the parents at school. I'm sure most of them know by now. Gossip runs rampant at the school gate. We've all seen Big Little Lies. Probably all the staff knew too. It was one of those days where I wish I could just press fast forward and get to the part where I see Liam again. I didn't want to miss out on that.

In the end, I got up, showered and got ready for work. I tamed my hair, put on my war paint and dressed in black work pants, ballet flats and a pink knitted cardigan.

I started to pack my bag for the weekend, trying to work out what outfits I needed. I had decided what I wanted to wear for dinner tonight, but I didn't know what to wear to bed. Would I even need anything to wear? I blushed at the thought. I packed a basic set of pyjamas. I added jeans and a couple of t-shirts, a hoodie and my Dr Martens. I put some pretty underwear in there too. I didn't have much, just a white lace set which Liam had already seen and two black lace sets. I packed them all.

My phone beeped, and I got a message from Liam. It was a picture of his face all sweaty from working out. He had his tongue sticking out. He had written, I was going to send you a picture of my cock but thought that was a bit vulgar. So I decided to send you a picture of another part of my body that's going to fuck you tonight. Can't wait x.

My whole body grew hot, my stomach filled with butterflies, and I giggled. I started to reply with 'cheeky bastard', but then I had an idea. I sent him a picture of my face with my mouth open in an O shape, and I rested a finger on the corner of my lower lip. I wrote, I was going to send you a picture of my pussy but thought it was a bit obvious. So I sent you a picture of another part of my body that's going to get fucked tonight. X

Within a minute, I got a reply of: Game on, Sweetheart.

Well, if Liam wants to play a game, I can play a game.

I pulled my pyjamas out of my bag and put in a satin shift, pretty much my only sexy bedclothes. I thought about what other sexy photos I could take and packed a few other things. Then I made my lunch and headed off to work.

I rang Riza on the way to work. She asked me about how I was feeling. I told her I was dealing with it, but I said no more about it. I asked Riza about how she and Jen were going, and she said we would meet up soon.

"I miss you," she said.

"Yeah, I miss you too. Talk soon, ok?"

"Yeah, have a good weekend slut! Tell Liam I said hi."

"Suck a dick Riz."

We hung up, and almost immediately, Dave calls.

He doesn't say hello or anything, just launches in with, "Are you dating Liam Cross?" Fuck. "One of Lucy's friends just sent her an article about you and him."

No use denying it then. "Yeah, I am. He's the one I'm spending the weekend with." I braced for his reply.

"Fuck me dead. My fucking little sister is rooting Liam fucking Cross." His voice didn't sound angry. He sounded impressed.

I rolled my eyes. "It's not a big deal. Just don't forget to get Perrin and don't tell Mum."

"Not a big deal? The kids will go crazy when they meet him."

"Dave, we are hardly at the point where we are meeting families."

"Yeah, alright, keep your shirt on."

"I'll come by Sunday arvo to pick Perrin up?"

"Wanna stay for dinner?"

"Yeah, ok. See you then."

I ended the call and got to work not long after that. I went straight to my classroom, trying to avoid everyone. There was one person I couldn't avoid, and that was Marla, my teacher's aide. She was in her late 50s, though, so I thought she would be pretty safe. She didn't mention anything all morning, which was a relief.

At lunchtime, I stayed in the classroom. I told Marla I had some work to do, so she left me alone. I checked my phone and found a message from Liam.

It was a picture of Liam drinking from a bottle of pineapple juice, and it said, Me hydrating for tonight x.

His innuendo made me chuckle, but I had planned for something like this. I took a selfie of myself with a banana in my mouth and sent it with the caption: Presumptive much? Me carbo-loading for tonight.

Liam replied a little later with, I can't decide if I'm winning because my pics are better or if I'm still winning because yours are better.

Marla came back into the classroom about halfway through lunch. She pottered around the room, trying to look busy. She kept looking over at me. I felt myself start to panic. She wasn't acting like that this morning. She must know now. They all must know. I started wondering what everyone was saying about me in the staff room. They had probably sent Marla back to the classroom to see what information they could get out of me. The panic receded, and anger filled the void.

Eventually, I lost my temper. "Have you got something to say, Marla?"

Marla had the good grace to look ashamed. "No. Nothing."

I crossed my arms. "What are they saying?"

Marla sighed, "honestly? They're mostly pretty stoked about it. Happy for you."

I let my arms fall. My vision went a bit blurry. "Really?"

Marla came over and leaned against the table, and rubbed my back. "Oh, Darl, yeah, most of us remember what it was like for you. We just want you to be happy."

I smiled at her, but the tears still came. Marla gave me a tissue. "Thanks, Marla." I sniffed, "ugh, the parents, though. I'm not looking forward to that."

Marla smiled and said, "don't worry about it, Darl. I'll fill in for ya this arvo, and you can do my Wednesday lunch duty. How's that?" I thanked her. Relieved, I hugged her and cleaned myself up.

When school had finished, I made a mad dash to the car park. I knew I was just putting off the inevitable. I'd have to show my face in front of the parents sooner or later, but I decided it was Monday's problem.

I checked my phone before I headed off to Liam's place. He had sent me a shirtless picture of himself with some rope curled up around his shoulder and written, One of my costumes has a rope. It made me think of you. I'm about to leave. See you soon.

Dammit, I couldn't think of a response to that one! I sat and thought about it for ages. I was not about to give in easily. Then it came to me. I got my water bottle and one of my spare undies from my overnight bag. I wet them a bit, put the underwear and water bottle on the bag and took a picture of them both. I wrote. My water bottle leaked in my bag, and my panties got wet. It made me think of you. I'm on my way.

The three circles came up within seconds, and Liam sent, You are in so much trouble, Sweetheart. Park around the back.

And because I can't control my tongue in real life or texts, I wrote back, That's what she said.

I didn't wait for a reply. I just put an audiobook on and drove.

Part 12

[ohmightydevviepuu]

our little life (rounded with a sleep) / chapter 1

our little life (rounded with a sleep) chapter one / AO3

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful detective. She had blonde hair, green eyes, no family, and she was good at finding people; in fact, she proclaimed this on her office door. “Swan and Humbert,” it said. “Private investigations, missing persons, and bail bonds.”

Only lately, she's been thinking that maybe it should say "Emma Swan: Loner, Loser, Complicated wreck."

Her partner's been killed on a case after she made a deal with her landlord to find what had been taken from him. But when she tracks a possible perp to a bar on the outskirts of town, Emma will find out exactly how deep the rabbit hole goes.

(a FULL rewrite of "the stuff that dreams are made of" completed as part of the 2020 Captain Swan Big Bang Rewrite-a-Thon)

--

with awe and infinite thanks to @captainswanbigbang and the team of mods there ( @optomisticgirl,  @phiralovesloki, @spartanguard, @shippingtheswann)   for running an insanely first-class event.  thanks also to the crew in the discord, who helped me plug MANY a plot hole, and especially to @shireness-says who kept me accountable on so many nights when i was floundering.  

i lost track of how many times i begged @thisonesatellite, @profdanglaisstuff and @katie-dub to read or re-read sections of this; especially to @thisonesatellite who’s been working with me on this story since before the event was official and dedicated many countless hours to suggesting--gently--that i stop banging my head against the wall.  @profdanglaisstuff came through and saved this story AT LEAST three times.  (that is probably a lowball estimate TBH)

--

CW:  canonical character death (minor character) rating:  T/M (mild implied violence, language) AO3

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful detective.

She had long, blonde hair that curled just so at the edges of a face with skin as fair as snow, save for the hint of a blush across the apples of her cheeks.  Her eyes glinted green, like emeralds in the sunlight, and the fall of her lashes was thick and dark.  Emma Swan looked like nothing so much as a fairy-tale princess, but if Emma Swan knew one thing about her life it was this: nothing about it was a fairy tale.

Her hair, for starters, was the product of nearly an hour’s work in front of a mirror most days, curling it and drying it and styling it just so. Twenty minutes perfecting the “no makeup” aesthetic with no less than three base layers before the foundation swept across her cheeks; the thickest mascara wand she could find and the darkest shade of black available completed the look unless she was feeling particularly ambitious and added lash primer.  Contact lenses instead of glasses, though her eyes were naturally green which meant that at least one of her parents probably had green eyes, too, not that Emma knew for sure either way.  But she was beautiful, which was a thing she did know for sure, capping it all off with a carefully curated collection of leather jackets and knee-high boots, black trousers and jeans and pencil skirts, for a look that said very clearly do not fuck with me.

Emma was her actual given name, or at least it was according to the one tangible thing--besides her eyes--that she knew she had gotten from her parents. The letters had been lovingly stitched into the hand-knitted blanket in which she had been found near a diner by the side of the road in Bumblefuck, Maine sometime in the first few hours after she had been born.  Her last name, Swan, had been attached by the one family who had considered adopting her, and had stuck on every piece of official paperwork that followed her from foster home to foster home after they had traded her in to have their own kid.  Sometime around her fourteenth or fifteenth birthday, soon after the first time she had run away, Emma had decided she might as well keep it as not.  Something about believing in herself and saying ‘fuck you’ to fate because no one else was going to do it for her.

No fairy godmothers in this world.

Emma Swan also had a talent:  She was good at finding people, and she proclaimed this fact on her office door.  “Swan and Humbert,” it said.  “Private Investigations.  Missing Persons.  Bail Bonds.”

So, Emma Swan was twenty-eight, as of today; beautiful, but prickly, which was the nice way that people said it.  “Unfeeling bitch” was what Graham Humbert called her, and most days, he meant it as a compliment. 

Last night he had meant it to wound her.  “Heartless bastard” was what she had called him in return after he’d crossed a line she had never intended them to cross.  As Emma pushed the office door open, she was wondering if she should change it to “Emma Swan:  Loner, Loser, Complicated Wreck” before deciding that would probably scare potential clients away.

And for now, at least, she still had a partner.  If she hadn’t scared him away, too.  Emma was furious just thinking about it--their partnership was supposed to be easy and constant, one of the few reliable things she’d found in this life she’d scraped together for herself.

“He’s not here, is he?” Emma asked, sighing, as she walked into the outer office.

“Mmmm?” Ruby murmured, not looking up from her makeup mirror as she fluffed her waist-length, red-streaked black curls until she was satisfied with their volume. “Graham just phoned, actually, said he was gonna be late.”  She pouted into the mirror, testing the longevity of her red lipstick, and finally looked up.  “Whoa, Em,” she said, gesturing at the cropped red leather jacket Emma had selected for the day’s ensemble.  “What’s with the battle armor?  You can’t be like this today, you have a client waiting.”  Ruby snapped the mirror shut and nodded at the inner office door with her chin.

“Like what?” Emma challenged.

“Nope,” Ruby said.  “Not going there.”

Emma glared, just for a second, and cracked a small smile.  “Sleazy divorce case?” she asked, almost hopefully.

“Ah.”  Ruby nodded, like that explained something. “You’re in that mood.  Explains the outfit.  So we’re not solving the mystery of True Love today, then?”

“No mystery,” Emma said.  “Sooner or later, the people you love let you down.  Life lesson from me to you, Ruby.  At least then, they end up here--and we need the eighty bucks an hour.”

“You make it sound so tawdry,” Ruby complained.

“These are our people, Red.”

Ruby paused, eyeing Emma up and down one more time, lingering on the red leather.  “What did he do?” she asked, lowering her voice.  “Do I need to, like, rip out his throat or something?”

And--it wasn’t like Emma hadn’t felt a flash of something when he’d kissed her in the office late the night before, it’s just that it was easier to feel nothing when what you were feeling, most of the time, just plain sucked.

Emma didn’t answer and the silence stretched out until Ruby expelled a breath.  “Okay,” Ruby said, not sounding happy about it.  “Whatever. But--trust me, Emma.  We need this client.”

“He just needs me?”  Emma asked.  “Or, I guess, just one of us?”

“Actually,” Ruby said.  “He said he wants you. He was specific,” Ruby said.  

Emma had a good reputation for someone her age and especially for someone whose resume most closely resembled one of the people she was trying to track down.  But the truth was that clients who came in with a specific personnel request generally went straight for Graham.  

“Right,” Emma said.

“But lower your shields a bit and, you know, smile--but not the kind where you show your teeth because you don’t want to scare them off.”

Emma pushed the corners or her mouth upward with her middle fingers and made sure to bare as many teeth as she possibly could.  “All the better to eat you with, my dear.”

Ruby gave her a wink and an air kiss.  “Any time, babe, you know that.”

Emma laughed, breaking into a real smile.  “I’ll leave that to Victor, I think.”

“It’s cute,” Ruby said, “that you think he’d care, except to come and watch--or maybe help,” and smacked her lips again when Emma rolled her eyes and turned toward the door marked ‘Private.’  She ran a hand over her hair to smooth it, squared her shoulders, and straightened her jacket.

“Shoulders back, chin up, tits out, Em,” Ruby muttered.  “It’s worth way more than a sleazy divorce case, I can smell it.”

Emma braced herself, opening the door and shutting it behind her.

Her visitor stood in the center of the room, facing the window and leaning on an ornate walking stick.  He turned around at the sound of the doorknob and smiled, a sickly, fake thing that flashed just a hint of a gold tooth.  “Ah,” he said. “Miss Swan.  It’s nice to see you again. I’m Mr. Gold--”

“I remember,” Emma said, “sir.” Sir because if what her landlord charged for this place was any indication, to say nothing of what his made-to-measure three-piece suit must have cost, Ruby was right:  they needed this case.

“I have a proposition for you, Miss Swan,” he said.  “I need your help.”

--

Emma sank slowly into her swivel chair, turning to face her visitor and smiling politely--the tight, thin kind that showed no teeth.  She took him in:  his charcoal grey suit with a hint of a sheen on the fabric, the blood red dress shirt underneath, the black tie streaked with gold and just a hint of purple with a matching pocket square at his breast.  

“It would appear,” he said with no preamble, his voice low and soft, “that I’ve been robbed.”  He spoke with a smoothed-over accent; Scottish, perhaps, but every few words there was a syllable with a cadence so foreign Emma couldn’t even begin to place it.

“You seem unsurprised,” Emma remarked cautiously.

“Other attempts have been made in the past,” he said, tapping his cane lightly against the heel of one of his polished leather shoes.  The walking stick, it turned out, was quite genuine, as the man had hobbled slightly when crossing the room toward the visitor’s chair at Emma’s desk.  “I am a man of means with collections representing many varied interests and there are always those who come to me for--” he paused, and Emma sensed the deliberation with which he chose his words, “--help.  Sometimes I am able to oblige them; other times, I leave them to their own devices.”

“You’re saying that you’re a target,” Emma said, “and that something has been taken from one of your collections?”  He nodded, and his hair nearly brushed the tips of his shoulders.  It was long for a man of his apparent dignity, with strands hanging around his face and nearly in his eyes.

“What can I say, Miss Swan?” he asked rhetorically.  “I’m a difficult man to love.”

His eyes had clearly been following hers as she made her mental evaluation of him, and the effect he gave was almost that of a reptile.

“Here’s the thing, Mr. Gold,” Emma said, keeping the smile intact and speaking softly.  “A missing object, stolen from your shop--it sounds like the kind of job the police should handle.  Though I understand why a man in your position might choose discretion above all else, I also know that a man of your means would typically have no cause to approach someone like me directly--which tells me that whatever has gone missing is something of such value that you can’t even take the chance that anyone knows it’s missing.”

His gold tooth glinted again as he parted his lips and nodded his head, almost as if in appreciation.  Emma took it as a confirmation--not that she needed it. Her life had taught her many things, and her skill at reading people had gotten to the point where if she was concentrated and detached, she could tell a lie better than a polygraph.

“What’s been taken from me, Miss Swan,” he said, “has been in my possession for longer than you’ve been alive.”

Emma nodded.  What he said was not a lie.

“Okay,” she said, leaning forward and bracing her elbows on her desk.  “So tell me what I’m looking for.”

“You misunderstand me, Miss Swan,” he said, tilting his head at an angle as he, too, shifted his weight forward.  “I have no need for you to retrieve my stolen property.  I merely require your assistance in apprehending the man who had the audacity to violate me in such a brazen manner.”

Emma gave Gold a long, hard look.  “Robbery is a public menace.  You’re asking me to aid in what could be construed as obstruction of justice.  And you won’t even tell me what--?”

“Let’s just say,” he said, “that it’s a precious object and leave it at that.  Further, I will give you my assurances that it poses no danger to anyone as long as I get it back as quickly and quietly as possible and that it remains my secret.  But it is imperative that I find this person sooner rather than later.  I am, you might say, on something of a schedule.”

“You have a funny definition of justice, Mr. Gold,” she said.  

“My dear Miss Swan,” he said, the tooth glinting, “who said anything about justice?”

“What did they really do?”

“They stole,” he said, and nothing else.

Emma sat back and crossed her arms.

“I would hate to think that I’ve made a mistake in coming to you, Miss Swan,” Gold said, his voice still low, the words turning silky. ”It was my understanding that you are quite...dedicated in your chosen profession and have, for the most part, a record of success in finding those whom you seek.”

Emma managed not to flinch.  He couldn’t know that much about her from the cursory background an internet search would reveal; couldn’t know that she never had found her parents, because the kind of assholes who hand-knitted their kid a blanket and then left said kid on the side of the road were also the kind of assholes who had left absolutely no trace of their identity in any system Emma had access to.   

Had they ever even held her?

She’d never let herself hold her son, because Emma knew exactly what kind of asshole sent their kid out into the world on their own:  the kind that couldn’t be a parent.  The kind that needed to give that kid their best chance.

If she’d held him--if she’d given herself at least that--maybe it would have been easier.

Hell, it certainly couldn’t have been any harder.

“Miss Swan?”

Emma drew in a deep breath and set her shoulders.  “And you have a history with this person, I take it?”

“Miss Swan,” he said, and the laugh that accompanied it was a distinctly unpleasant one, “you will find that there are very few people in our little corner of the world with whom I do not have history.  And this man, I am sorry to say, has an unfortunate history of taking what is mine.”

Emma nodded, slowly.  “Okay,” she said, with some reluctance.  “I’ll check him out.”

“I’m sure you will,” Gold said smoothly. “In return for this service, you will of course expect payment.”

“Our hourly rate is--”

Gold was uninterested.  “Of no importance,” he said dismissively.  “You may invoice me, assuming I don’t find him first.  If I do...let’s just say that bad things happen to bad people.”

“Is that a threat?” Emma asked, incredulous.

“More of an observation, or perhaps an incentive,” he said, and the sickly smile was back.  “Do we have an understanding?”

She nodded again. “Deal,” she said.

“Grand,” Gold said, licking his lips.

“What’s going on in here?” said a voice from the doorway, lilting and accented and familiar.

“Graham,” Emma said, “Mr. Gold would like us to take a case on his behalf.  Mr. Gold,” Emma turned her attention back to their new client, swallowing her reservations because she was good at her job.  She needed that comfort--that belief--because her job was all she had, no matter what Graham thought he wanted.  “This is my partner, Graham Humbert.”

As Graham stepped forward and offered a hand, there was a look on his face that Emma had never seen before.  His eyes were bloodshot, as if he hadn’t slept properly--or at all--and his gaze focused on Gold as if he was the only thing in the room.

Something flickered across Gold’s face before he offered Graham his hand to shake.   “Indeed,” he said. “Miss Swan and I have just struck a bargain.”

Emma was sure she imagined the flash of fear that briefly overtook Graham’s features.

--

There were flowers on the table when Emma got home--she grabbed them and dumped them straight into the trash.

“Oh!”  Her roommate, Mary Margaret, walked in.

It all came down to the number seven, which was the number of addresses she’d had in the past ten years, assuming that eleven months in the Arizona Correctional Facility for Women counted as an address.  Graham had hired her, and she’d stayed, in spite of the lack of dental or any other benefits.  Mary Margaret Blanchard had not been looking for a roommate, but they’d met each other and there was the offer of the spare room that wasn’t even properly a room, more like a lofted open space just big enough for a double bed and a small wardrobe, before either of them was quite sure what had happened.  Something had clicked, and Emma had unpacked the three cardboard boxes that contained all of her possessions and tucked the one small cigar box that held her life, such as it was, away in a corner of the office.  

She had a roommate and a job and friends and she hated Graham for putting all of that at risk for something that would never work.  Because if Emma were the type who allowed herself to believe in such things, she’d have said that finding Mary Magaret--and Ruby, and Graham and her job and her life here--had been like coming home; as if she had always been meant to be there.

“Can you believe this shit?”  Emma gestured at the flowers.  “Graham think this is gonna work on me?”

“Yeah, no, those are mine,” Mary Margaret said, then corrected herself:  “Were mine.”

“From the married guy?  Seriously?”

“I know,” Mary Margaret said, then:  “Wait.  How did you know?”

“You’re an elementary school teacher,” Emma said flatly.  “I’m a private investigator.”

Mary Margaret sighed.  “It’s a disaster,” she said.

“It can’t be that bad if there are flowers,” Emma said, eyebrows raised.

“No, that was--no,” Mary Margaret said.  “I just can’t seem to--I feel like a different person when I’m around him.  It’s like I can’t help myself, like I have this need to be with him.”

“Trust me,” Emma said.  “Married guys are never worth it, no matter how good the ‘flowers’ are.” Emma made exaggerated air quotes with her fingers.  “If you need an itch scratched, stick to one-nighters with no attachments, like I do.”

“Yeah, but that’s because you’re--”

“Because I’m what?” Emma’s eyes flashed green in challenge.  Unfeeling bitch, he’d called her, then walked in on her meeting looking like shit, but otherwise as if nothing had happened between them.  

That fit with what she knew of him; Graham was a kind, good-natured guy, and most days Emma felt lucky to have him in her life.  It’s easy, between them.

“Never mind,” Mary Margaret said.

“No,” Emma said.  “Tell me.  What do I do?”

“You’re just,” Mary Margaret said, gesturing expansively, “protecting yourself.  With that wall you put up.”

“Just because I don’t get emotional over men--”

“You don’t?”  Mary Margaret was not the type of person who snorted derisively, which Emma was grateful for more at that moment than she might ever have been; especially since Mary Margaret had no real notion of exactly how much Emma was, in fact, protecting herself from.

Because she did not get emotional over men.

“All I’m saying,” Mary Margaret said, “is that the floral abuse tells a different story.”

“Come on,” Emma said.

“I mean it, Emma,” Mary Margaret said.  “That wall of yours might keep out pain, but it will also keep out love.”  Mary Margaret was all about “mawwaige” and “Twoo Wuv” and refused to give up hope that Emma would find both of those things. 

God, was there something in the water today?  This felt like the second time, at least, she’d been forced to endure some version of this conversation.  One more minute and she was likely to start screaming about patriarchy and freedom and submitting herself to an institution that fails as often as it succeeds, and for what?  A bullshit ideal of fairy tales and happy endings?

Certainly Mary Margaret’s sordid affair was a horrible ‘Exhibit A’ in the case for True Love.  

“He kissed me,” Emma confessed, watching the progression of emotions cross her friend’s face:  happiness, confusion, disappointment, resignation.

“And?”

“It wasn’t a bad kiss,” Emma admitted, watching Mary Margaret’s eyebrows shoot up. “It was nice, I guess.  Easy.”

“And?” Mary Margaret said again.

“And,” Emma emphasized it, “I’m neither of those things?” She threw her hands in the air.  “It’s not what I want, Mary Margaret.”

“Are you sure?”

There was a knock at the door before she could respond, and Emma went to answer it.  Sheriff Nolan’s hand was poised to knock again as she opened the door, and Emma spared a glance at her roommate, barely resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the married guy her friend had been not-so-secretly seeing.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Emma said knowingly, and was surprised at David’s hand on her shoulder.

“I’m here for you, actually,” he said.

--

Heartless bastard.

Emma would have laughed, except she was crying and trying not to throw up at the same time.

--

@kmomof4 @stahlop @katie-dub @imlaxdris71 @snowbellewells @mariakov81 @shardminds​ @carpedzem​ @anne-and-gilbert​ @teamhook @winterbaby89​

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

Love How You Hate Me - Sam x Reader

A/N: Finally have a chance to get this out. Just a little note, if you’d like tagged please send an ask so I don’t lose it. Feedback is always incredible, and I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Sexual tension. Mild animosity. Nothing too wild.

Word Count: Roughly 3,500

“Don't do anything Alice wouldn't do.” You told your reflection, brushing a stray hair away from your face. There was nothing that woman wouldn't do in the right moment. “Or you wouldn't have done.” A coy grin lined your face at that. “Welcome back, Y/N.”

Your H/C hair was left down in waves; leaving your body to do the talking. The E/C gaze was highlighted to help make the color pop. Yet lined heavily enough that it added a hint of mystery to it. Soft lips were decorated lightly; just enough to draw the attention there. The trail to seduction begun to grow more bold as it went on. A small sliver necklace dipped down into your pushed up bust line. The grey tank top hung just right off your breasts, leaving the slopes to catch the light. Its hem danced just over your navel. Letting more skin peek out as you moved. Your decorative, short sleeved black leather jacket was thrown on top to help keep you warm until some man's body could take over. A pair of low riding jeans covered your legs, hugging to your body. Emphasizing your ass enough to catch the attention of anyone in the vicinity. Last, but far from least: the 'fuck me' black heels you hadn't touched in years.

You grabbed your keys, and left your room. Hips swinging heavier than usual. You didn't mind putting on minimal effort around the bunker, but damn did it feel good to clean up. It left you free in a way that you hadn't experienced in the longest time.

“You're going out?” Sam's voice stopped you dead as you worked your way to the garage. Slowly, you turned back around. Preparing to go to battle if you had to. Empty eyes gazed over him, taking in the simple jacket and jean combo he'd paired together. “Me too.” He held the spare keys to your car; something you'd given in case of emergency. The glimmering silver in the low light dangled from his fingers. Your stomach sank as you understood where it was going. “Guess we'll have to share-”

“I'm not planning on coming back until late tonight.” You cut in sharply. Laying out the boundaries hard and heavy. Ensuring he'd have to find a different means back to the bunker.

“What's Dean going to think about that?” As your brows smashed together, Sam's lips ticked downwards. The never ending bitch-face gracing his features.

“He'll tell me I should look for more from a guy, and then move on.” You said it more as if it were a question. Sam had interrogated you before. But, never like that. Your guard went up firmly. “What does it matter, anyway? Dean's not here.”

“Because for whatever reason, he cares about you. Isn't that enough?” Sam's eyes flashed into the rich, angry brown edged. Catching you off guard, again.

Your E/C eyes trailed lower to escape the intensity. Instead, taking in the white t-shirt under the leather. How it fit neatly against his wide, muscled chest.

It wasn't as if you'd never been attracted to him. He'd drew in the more carnal aspects of you time and time again. The danger of taunting a man like him- a man that was strong enough to lock Lucifer inside him to save the world- called out to your inner siren.

Maybe it was because of the way he carried himself around you. So tall and intimidating. So different from his treatment of everyone else. How his head tilted ever so slightly when snubbing you was so simple. But, yet, the arrogance of it demanded you give him a reason to lose that sense of self. And when he pulled out the dimples? It didn't matter if it was from a scowl or sadistic grin. Your ovaries definitely took notice.

Ordinarily you'd push it away. Refused to let it take root. However, that particular strength eluded you in that moment. Instead, your shoulders rolled back.

“Sam,” You tilted your chin up. Taking the time to trace your lips with the tip of your tongue. If you would have glanced away, you might've missed it. How his eyes seemed to shift into warm honey while his nostrils flared. Attraction. Not just the anger you were accustomed to. The knowledge only forced the confidence inside of you to surge. “If your brother wanted me? I think we both know that you would have been the first to find out.”

“Maybe you're not giving him enough to go off of-”

The fast, almost blubbering response was cut short with your own, “Because neither of us is interested in it, Sammy.”

He wasn't buying it. Dean was...well, Dean. And you? There were just too many hints to ignore. “You're telling me that you've never once tried anything with Dean?”

“Do I look dead?” You leaned against the wall; crossing your arms as you talked. “Of course I did. He's a damn good looking man.”

“Thanks for proving my point.” Sam was the furthest thing from amused as he prepared to walk away. Steal the vehicle, and leave you to wallow in loneliness without a second glance.

“Kissed him once.” You looked down at your black nails. The words stopped the younger brother in his tracks. “I was drunk. Desperate for companionship. He was... well, on the prowl.” Details only seemed to increase the glower, but you didn't stop. “It was weird. Kinda like kissing a brother. Just...couldn't get into it.” Your eyes met his. Filled with the silent challenge you hadn't even realized you were sending out. “Since you're so interested.”

“Then why doesn't he...you know-”

“Oh, he does.” You snorted. Hell itself couldn't stop Dean Winchester's libido. It was the one thing you'd always been certain of. How Sam had missed it, you'd never know. “Often. He just tries to be more discreet, lately.”

“He's never been shy about sex.” Sam insisted. Daring you to connect the dots he'd created. As if it would change anything. “Not until you showed up.”

“He thinks I'm delicate, and can't handle how a man's needs work.” The thick mocking tone made his eye twitch. But, you weren't done. Not even close. “I disagree.” Every bit of wicked you possessed came out in the wry grin, then. “Which is precisely why I'm going out in search of some rough sex.” If you'd thought Sam was tense before, it only grew worse after that sultry statement left your lips. You weren't giving him time to recover. Kicking off the wall, you paraded down the hall with a backwards, “You leaving with me, or not?”

“We're not done here.” He wasn't buying your story. Sam fell into step behind you. Glaring a hole into your back. For once, you didn't say a word. Simply flipped your keys around your finger as you walked.

–

“Why aren't you leaving?” You huffed out as the giant himself plopped next to you on the last rickety stool. Any amusement you'd carried had long since faded. The real world was brimming with life, and the last thing you wanted to deal with was Sam.

“I told you that we weren't done.” He answered simply. Getting comfortable in his seat as you tensed up further.

You curled your lip lightly, and turned away, “What more do you want, Samuel?” Your eyes locked on the bartender, hoping that some mercy would exist. That you wouldn't have to make friendly with the enemy.

“Explain the sneaking into his room.” He ignored the 'Samuel', and jumped straight to business. Although, it wasn't his own, it meant too much. Dean meant too much.

He'd messed up when it came to his brother. Time and time again. Ignoring Dean's existence when he was in purgatory had been his biggest sin. Sam would never forgive himself for it.

But, he was a Winchester. He was cursed to screw up, and would again. One thing was certain, though. If he could, he'd keep you from hurting his brother. It was at least something to make up for the rest.

“Of course you caught onto that. And somehow seemed to miss everything else.” A dramatic sigh sifted past your lips as you spun to face him. Giving him a chance to gauge your honesty through your eyes. “I know you've heard me mention the homes.” It wasn't some kind of secret. He didn't know the gritty details, but he'd definitely been present when they'd come up from time to time. “Well, some of them...they got pretty nasty.” Sam Winchester was a protector of innocence. Immediately, he straightened up. Leaving you to rush forward to end any and all pity. “Not all of them. There were some great ones that I desperately wanted to adopt me.” It didn't relax his stature. Yet, you didn't stop. “But, where there's good... there's bad to equal it out.” You cleared your throat to move past the lump that was forming. Ignoring the way he looked down at your lowered head. “Sometimes, I have rough nights. Remember things from my past... Things that...that happened in some of the homes.” You rubbed the back of your neck. Trying to push away the pressure that crept up it. “Long story short, Dean caught on. Told me if I needed to, to wake him up.” Dean Winchester had been a knight in shining armor more times than you cared to count. “We sit and talk until we crash. Sometimes about the dream...sometimes about nothing at all. Just rambles.” You shrugged, still refusing to make eye contact. “Knew it didn't look good... didn't really want you to know one of my 'dirty' secrets. But, I want to get laid, and you're determined to make it difficult.”

Dread pooled into your stomach. Waiting for his tone to completely shift. For the inevitable sympathy to roll in. Instead, Sam focused on one part out of everything. “You're telling me that Dean, my brother, is capable of sharing his feelings-”

“I didn't say that.” You shook your head, losing some of the stiffness in your body. “No, your brother is one of the most closed off people I've ever met. He won't talk to me unless he thinks he doesn't have a choice.” A deep frown settled on your lips at that. “Drives me crazy, sometimes. I worry about him.” The tight pull of your mouth grew more pronounced, “No, he lets me talk. He just...listens, and offers his take...Occasionally, I can convince him to open up a little about how he's doing. But, not enough. Not unless it's really weighing on him.” Another soul deep sigh left you as you turned away from Sam. Your stomach churned as you realized just how much you'd given up so easily. Imagining what he could do with that kind of ammo wouldn't settle. “So, that's that. Now, you can go.”

You waved him away, Instead, choosing to scope out the bar. Bodies of all shapes and sizes packed the room. It would only take settling on one.

“No way.” Sam breathed out as if you were insane. Making your head yank back his way in disbelief.

“I gave you your answer-”

“I don't believe you.” He shrugged easily. “Well, about the relationship.” Because that clarification somehow made it all better.

“You have got to be kidding me.” You felt your pulse jump in response. If there was ever a moment you thought about tackling the lug, that was definitely it.

It didn't take a genius to figure out that you weren't pleased about his hovering, but that didn't matter to Sam. Neither did the fact that he truly believed you. He didn't like you by any means, but his curiosity was piqued. And he'd be damned if he pulled away from that kind of intrigue.

Dean didn't just end up as friends with women. Not often enough for Sam to fully believe that you didn't mean more to the oldest Winchester. The confession could have been lingering on his brother's lips for all he knew. If Sam left you to run off with some stranger? He could end up with another black eye. He'd be damned if he was chancing that one. Or, so he told himself.

“Nope.” He waved down the bartender once he had made eye contact. Settling in for a night out with his roomy.

“Look-”

“Two beers-”

“One beer, and the heaviest thing you've got.” You corrected without blinking twice. The tattooed man nodded and got to work. Seething didn't begin to describe you.

Beer was your second biggest nemesis. The times you could tolerate it were few and far in between. But, no. The lug hadn't realized that you avoided the brew like that plague despite the fact that the Winchesters seemed to live off of it.

But, that wasn't the largest problem. Not by far. It was the gorgeous dick who was entirely convinced that you were sleeping with his big brother.

You respected his decision to protect Dean's heart. Even felt you'd do the same if you felt someone was trying to take advantage of the man whore. However, it was the furthest thing from what was happening between you and Dean.

The urge to let loose was increasing by the second. And yet, you knew that Sam wouldn't allow it. One look at the stubborn set of his jaw confirmed it.

“Thanks.” Sam took the drink from the bartender, and pushed over some bills.

You nodded stiffly as you accepted the beverage that was pushed your way. Internally screaming, you lifted the glass. Tipping it to your mouth as if you still did it on a regular basis.

You welcomed the burn down your throat. Warmth spread through your veins in seconds. Your eyes watered from the sting.

When it was gone, you set the empty container sharply down at the table. Your cheeks were flushed lightly when you looked back at Sam. He had taken a hefty drink from his beer as he watched you chug, but hadn't attempted to compete.

“That was a mistake.” You muttered, clenching your stomach. “Excuse me.” You bolted for the bathroom full speed.

Sam chuckled lightly, watching you disappear into the woman's room. That's what she gets for that stunt. He didn't have an ounce of sympathy as he turned towards the TV above the bar.

After five minutes, he felt a bit of concern. After ten, it magnified into full out worry. Sam got to his feet to make sure you hadn't died.

A few women were leaving as he walked up. With the most friendly smile he could muster, he asked if they'd seen a girl that matched your description. Only to get socked in the gut metaphorically. No one else was in there.

His jaw clenched tightly as he walked out of the crowded bar. Sure enough, your car was gone from the parking spot. Damn it.

He grabbed his phone and the message on his screen made him grind his teeth tightly. 'Get a ride, Winchester. You're on your own. See you in the morning.'

“I'm going to throttle her.”

–

“Fuck,” You huffed, grumbling as you limped into the bunker. You'd taken off your shoes in a poor attempt to stay quiet. Trying to extend your death until morning. Sadly, it resulted in a stubbed toe. You'd contained the profanities you'd wanted to yell until the pain had left enough for you to speak without it exploding out.

“About time.” Sam's sudden voice made you fly into the air. Heart pounding, you gripped your hand over the offending organ while searching for the source. Sure enough, he sat waiting at the mapped table. “I was starting to think you were dead.”

“Hoping, more like.” You shot back, straightening your spine in a poor attempt at looking more intimidating.

“Now, why would I want you to die? Especially before I had the chance to wrap my hands around that pretty little throat of yours?” Yeah, he's mad...

“The deal was you were getting your own ride back, anyway.” You felt obliged to point out. Standing firm in your decision. “I just ensured it happened.”

He didn't look amused. In fact, if the bitch face was any indication, he was trying very hard to keep himself from truly strangling you. It only made your pulse kick up that much higher.

“Hope he was worth it.” He said it as if it was an offhand comment, but you knew better. It was a jab. A threat, even. Reminding you of Dean. And what Sam had locked onto.

“He wasn't.” You sighed dramatically, tossing the jacket that had been in your hands onto the table. Your shoes landed on top of it as you plopped into the chair. Openly goading the stormy man across from you. “You men and not wanting to wrap it up.” His lip curled in disgust. For once, you seemed to be on the same page. “He tried to sweet talk me. Not even slightly worth the risk. So, after all that effort, I didn't even get laid.” Another deep sigh of regret sounded as your chin fell into your hands. “Depressing, really.”

“Serves you right.” Sam snorted, leaning back in his chair. More than enjoying the fact that you'd run away for nothing.

“Oh, come on. I've heard stories about you. You're not mister innocent, either.” You returned, leaning back to begin playing with your chain. Sizing him up as his eyes turned distrustful. “I mean, Alice found those books rather enlightening...”

“She found the books?” Is that fear I detect in his voice, or dismay? Both? You'd never read them, but you'd heard enough. Without missing a beat, you played your card.

“Definitely, Mr. Rough Love.” The gaze from under your lashes was anything but pure. Your teeth tugged over your bottom lip. “Too bad I'm not willing to risk certain death getting within strangling range, or I could be in for a treat. Heard good things, Sammy.” A teasing wink deepened the glower across from you.

“Hilarious.” He drawled out. So dryly that you had to resist another snicker. “Even if you weren't sleeping with my brother-”

“I'm not-”

“I don't think you could handle it.” His eyes scanned over your form in a way that was supposed to say he wasn't interested. However, it fell short. Lingering too long on where the necklace disappeared into your bust.

“If you weren't such a colossal dick, I probably would've...” A slow, sad sigh left you. “Nah. Not even then. You're getting kind of up there in age... I'd rather stick with someone who can... last a little longer.” The blatant taunt hit the mark with deadly accuracy.

“You think I can't last?” It took every ounce of self control you had in you to keep your face from giving away your mirth at his wounded masculine pride.

“Well...” You trailed off with a small shrug, leaving it in the air.

“If you were any other woman...” The hiss of disappointment left him as his nose scrunched up.

“What?” Your skin prickled lightly, reacting to the dangerous tilt in his voice. “You'd prove me wrong?” You leaned forward, giving him a better look down your shirt. His glance was short, but it was too late. You'd seen everything you needed to. “Doubtful.” A lot of things had crackled between you two over the years, but never the sharp jab of sexual tension. When he twitched, as if preparing to lunge at you, the spell broke. With a sharp jerk, you rushed to your feet. “Goodnight, Sam.”

Ignoring the heat in his eyes, you forced the cool edge back into every movement. Carefully, you pulled your jacket back to your arms. Walking away as if you weren't shaking at the knees.

What the hell was that? Sam leaned back into his chair after you'd left, running his hand through his hair. He'd been so close to yanking you across the table to show you just how wrong you'd been. If you would have stayed just a second longer...

It's because I can't kill her, he finally decided. His long fingers tapped over the smooth surface in agitation. The idea was somewhat soothing. Sex was passion. Just like hate. Nothing more.

Slowly, he started piecing together all the little things. Going over everything you'd said. If Dean hadn’t brought you home because he wanted in your pants, it was because he felt some kind of sympathy. And that wasn’t much better for Sam in the end...

Part Four

Tag: @burningmusicmachine @missmarrinette @sherlockedtash88 @rathersuspiciousbumblebee

[olicity-fanwork-exchange]

Broken Bones And Porcelain Dolls

This one is for Jesse, @spaztronautwriter. I have always loved your stories and I am so grateful that you share them with us. This is no way as good as your original fic Broken Bones Lead Me to You but I hope you’ll have fun reading it all the same.

From: @tangled23works

Rating : Teen

Archive Warnings : No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationship : Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, Mia Smoak/Connor Hawke

Characters : Oliver Queen, Felicity Smoak, Mia Smoak, Connor Hawke,                                  William Clayton

Additional Tags : Future Fic

Words : 3896

Sick people made a lot of noise.

As someone who had been blessed with excellent health, Mia had never noticed it before. The last time she had visited Starling Memorial she had been too young to pay attention to the smell of disinfectant and constant groaning around her.

A man in a red hoodie that reminded her of an old photo of her Uncle Roy was brooding in the corner while a young girl with spiky black hair wearing a leather jacket was threatening the nurse with bodily harm if they didn’t treat his injuries soon. Mia couldn’t actually see an injury but she supposed that people got hurt in amentionable locations all the time. An older guy - she had made sure to stay far away from that one because she could feel his creepy eyes following her - was complaining constantly about inefficient nurses and female doctors. If Mia’s Mom was there she would have donated this slimy dude’s money to Greenpeace in a heartbeat.

“Mia?”

She looked up to find her older brother with a sad look on his face that could only be described as contrition.

“I’m sorry but the nurse said this is gonna take a while.”

“It’s fine, Will.”

Her brother sighed as if he knew she was lying and sat next to her. The plastic chairs weren’t exactly comfortable but the place had been so crowded that Will had been forced to stand at least for an hour while they were waiting.

Mia turned towards him. In all the years she had known Will, she had never seen him look like that. She had been about five years old when a trip to Central City had revealed that her father had another kid. Things had never been the same after that. But despite all the sibling rivalry, Mia wouldn’t trade her older brother for the world.

She leaned on him. “Remember the last time we were here?”

Will closed his eyes. “Yes.”

She could hear the smile in his voice. “Lucas was screaming the place down. Our parents were afraid that the nurses would kick us out.”

Will chuckled. “Felicity always said that you were so quiet. It was so easy to keep you happy. You were fine as long as your belly was full. I think Lucas surprised them. They hadn’t expected a baby to be so loud and demanding.”

“And now, he’s the best of us. Always zen and shit.”

The old lady in the next seat shoot her a reproving glance.

“Mia Smoak Queen. Don’t make me call your mom.”

Mia stuck her tongue out. “You wouldn’t dare. Because then I would have to tell her we’re in the emergency room. And she would want to know why,” she threatened in a singsong voice.

Will blanched at the reminder. “Shit, Mia. I’m so sorry.”

“Really, young man!” the old lady chided.

“Sorry, Ma’am. I’m so worried for my sister. She’s in excruciating pain.”

He grabbed Mia’s hand and pointed to her dislocated thumb. The sight made the old lady shudder. She nodded accepting Will’s apology and promptly turned the other way.

Mia tried to suppress a laugh and failed. “Aren’t you laying it on a bit thick? I have dislocated my thumb plenty of times before.”

“First of all, shush. And second, we all know you’re a badass,” he whispered the word, afraid that the lady was still listening to their conversation, “but you can’t know for sure it’s dislocated. It looks broken to me.”

Mia rolled her eyes. “So dramatic.”

“Shut up. It’s all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, Will. And it’s not Addie’s fault either.”

Will rubbed his thumb and forefinger in a nervous gesture that reminded Mia of their father. She had told him plenty of times that the whole thing was a stupid accident but her stubborn brother refused to believe her.

It had all started with a text message. Mia had been hanging with Will at Queen Inc. when her brother’s husband had to leave for Central City in a hurry. Josh was a reporter and he had been following a story about some guy who kept running around dressed in a red suit pretending to be a superhero. What the police hadn’t anticipated was that the guy had unknowingly stumbled onto a human trafficking cartel and had even managed to get photos of their operation. Josh had sources all over the country so when one of them called and said that the CCPD was about to make an arrest, he had been forced to leave Addie in a hurry and catch the first train to Central City.

“Wanna hang out with me and Addie tonight?” Will had asked her. “I’ll even let you guys play that ancient video game that Felicity loves so much.”

They had left QI and after picking up four different kinds of ice-cream (in order to appease Addie), they rushed to Will and Josh’s home to spend a quiet night in with her niece. Josh warned them that Addie was in a bad mood because her Daddy was leaving but they didn’t listen. After all, they were both grown ups, perfectly capable of taking care of a grumpy four-year-old, right?

Little did they know how wrong they were…

At first Addie had been pleased to see them but that had quickly changed when she realized that she still had to say goodbye to one of her parents. She had stomped her foot and refused to eat her dinner. Will had to ply her with ice-cream even though Josh had told Mia repeatedly that giving sugar to Addie when she was having a temper tantrum was a recipe for disaster.

Addie on a sugar high was not a pretty sight. She had climbed every possible surface, she had stormed the bedroom and pretended to be a pirate called Slade Wilson, she had opened every single cupboard and thrown pots, pans and other kitchen utensils on the floor. Then she had decided to jump down from the oak China cabinet yelling “You have failed this city!” at the top of her lungs; which of course was the moment when Mia decided it was time to intervene. She tried to catch her niece mid-air but instead Addie’s little foot managed to kick her right hand at a weird angle dislocating her thumb. It hurt like a bitch despite what she had told Will but she had reigned it in so as not to scare the baby.

“How’s the munchkin?” she asked as she remembered Addie’s inconsolable cries when she had noticed her favorite aunt’s injury.

“She’s fine. You know she loves spending time with Josh’s parents.” Will’s leg jumped restlessly. “I really hate it that you got hurt, Mimi.”

Mia scoffed. She had never liked that nickname but the more she protested against it, the more Will used it. Plus, she couldn’t stand her brother’s guilt-ridden face any longer. “You know what I would like to have?”

“What?” Will asked, willing to help in any way he could.

“Can you get me some ice? It’ll help with the swelling.”

Will jumped up from his seat before she could finish her sentence. Mia leaned back and closed her eyes trying to relax. It had been a really long day and she couldn’t wait to go home. She didn’t open them again until she felt someone take the seat beside her. A glance to her right told her that it was not her brother.

A guy was now sitting next to her. She supposed he was what her grandma Donna would call “Hot with a capital H” if not for the fact that his nose was broken. Chocolate skin, tall, athletic wearing a pair of jeans and a dark green t-shirt. He was trying to fill in a hospital form but it was obvious from the way he was squinting that he couldn’t see very well.

“Excuse me,” she said after a minute of watching him struggle, “do you need some help?”

The hot guy dismissed her offer without even looking up. “It’s fine. Thank you, though.”

Mia shrugged and was about to turn away when he raised his head and noticed her. He scrutinized her from the top of her blonde hair to the bottom of her shoes. Mia decided it would be a good idea to try again. “Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

He went on the defensive. “And how would you help? Your thumb’s broken.”

“For your information, it’s not broken. Just dislocated. And I could read the questions for you so that you don’t have to squint like a knitting grandma but whatever.”

Hot guy sighed in defeat. “If you’re sure you don’t mind?”

“I don’t,” she said and looked at the form. He had filled in his name and phone number in neat handwriting. “Okay, so next question is the reason why you’re here.”

“Apart from the broken nose? My pride has taken a hit but this is not something the doctors can fix.” He wrote down the medically relevant answer.

Mia examined him closely. She didn’t understand what he meant with that comment about his pride. Unless he had gotten into a brawl and lost. “What happened? Did you get into a fistfight?”

“I wish.”

“You wish you were in a fistfight?”

“Being injured in a fight would be more manly,” he grumbled.

Mia couldn’t help but smile at the admission.

After much internal debate, he said quietly, “Actually, something fell on my face.”

She moved closer. “What was it?”

“I’d prefer not to say.”

“You have to! I have to know. Mysteries bug me, hot guy.”

He quirked an eyebrow.

“Well, I don’t know your name so I call you ‘hot guy’ in my head. At least, I’m guessing you’re hot beneath all the bruising and swelling.”

He almost laughed before he winced and took a deep breath through the mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Mia said. “It’s probably not a good idea to laugh with a broken nose.”

“I’m Connor, by the way. I would shake your hand but your thumb’s-”

“Dislocated,” Mia supplied before he could say that her thumb was broken. “So Connor, what was it that fell on your head and broke your nose?”

He mumbled something she couldn’t hear. “A what?”

“One of my Grandma’s vintage porcelain dolls.” He spoke so fast that the whole sentence sounded like one long mumbled word.

Mia blinked for a second before she started laughing so hard she nearly fell off her chair. She couldn’t help it. He was such a macho guy that the image of him being defeated by a doll was ridiculous.

“Was the doll dressed as a sheep herder?”

Connor didn’t appreciate her teasing. “I’m sorry,” she said even though it was obvious her apology was not sincere, “but it sounds like you were in an MMA fight with the doll and lost.”

He seemed exasperated for a second before a self-deprecating smile appeared on his face. Ugh, the smile made her pay attention to his lips. Biteable, pretty lips, like fluffy pillows… Mia was struck again by his hotness. She had forgotten about it in the midst of the doll fiasco.

“How did you break your thumb?” he asked.

She was about to explain for the umpteenth time that her thumb was dislocated not broken when she saw Will return holding out an ice pack.

“Thanks, Will.”

“Sorry I’m late. I had to check on Addie.”

Connor’s eyes darted to her brother, then fixed on Mia again. It was obvious that he was wondering if he was about to meet Mia’s significant other.

“Will, this is Connor. He has a broken nose. Connor this is Will, my older brother.”

Her brother threw her a questioning glance. “Nice to meet you.”

Will’s reserved greeting wasn’t lost on her new friend. Mia narrowed her eyes at her brother’s overprotectiveness. Sure, she had been approached by creeps all of her life just because her last name was Queen but she didn’t get that vibe from Connor. In fact she was pretty sure that he had no idea who she was.

“Miss Queen?”

“Dammit,” Mia growled.

“I’m so sorry for the delay, Miss Queen,” the nurse said. “If we knew you were here-”

“You would have done the exact same thing, I hope,” an authoritative voice said.

Mia shook her head in denial. She knew that voice. But it couldn’t be. Her father could not be here in the hospital when she had just met Connor, the hot guy who up until a moment ago was blissfully unaware of her last name.

“Of course, Mr. Mayor,” the nurse lied.

Mia could feel her father’s stare boring into her back. Before she could face him, another voice rose above the hospital noise.

“Mia Smoak Queen who did you punch and why?”

Mia turned towards her mother. She felt like a ten-year-old kid again insisting that she didn’t eat the last piece of her father’s birthday cake.

“I didn’t punch anyone.”

Felicity Smoak-Queen did not look convinced. “Really?”

Her father looked amused. “She’s telling the truth, honey. Her thumb’s broken. Mia knows better than to punch people with her thumb inside her closed fist.”

Felicity frowned, considering this information.

“It was my fault, Dad,” Will admitted.

“Don’t be absurd,” her mother said, dismissing Will’s confession. After all these years, Mia couldn’t help but feel a little jealous. Her mother had loved Will from the moment they had found out about him. It didn’t matter to her that he was not her biological child. It also helped that her brother was a certified genius and computer geek so alike Felicity it was scary. Even Samantha, Will’s actual Mom, said that Will was like a mini-Felicity. Mia didn’t begrudge her brother his relationship with her Mom. She only wished it were that easy for her.

“Actually, it was both our faults. We gave Addie ice-cream after Josh left for CC.”

Her father chuckled. “Hurricane Addie strikes again.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the nurse said reluctantly, “but we need to examine Miss Queen’s hand.”

“Right,” Mia said.

She looked at Connor who had been quiet through the whole Queen family drama.

“I’m Mia.”

“I know.”

“Anyway,” she offered him the ice pack, “this might help.”

“Thanks.” He took it but averted his gaze.

She hated asking but she had to. If he said no, then he said no. Her pride would take a hit - worse than any porcelain doll accident - but it was important that she try.

“See you later?”

“Bye, Mia.”

That went well, Mia thought and followed the nurse, feeling like she was shot through the heart with an arrow.

Connor Hawke was not having a good day. Sure the porcelain doll incident was somewhat responsible for that but mainly it was because of a beautiful, sassy, intelligent woman and her ridiculously wealthy, overwhelmingly famous family. No one went to the hospital expecting to meet the Mayor’s fascinating daughter. No one. These things didn’t happen. Specifically, these things didn’t happen to poor kids, born in the Glades.

Will Queen sat down next to him. The family bodyguards stood close by, not intervening but noticing everything and everyone. The old lady next to him got called by the nurse and the Mayor showed his wife to the seat. She smiled at him and he softened. Mayor Queen was notoriously in love with his wife. And incredibly overprotective of his only daughter.

“So, how is it you know my daughter?”

Connor looked at the Mayor’s wife. She was a really beautiful woman. Age had honed her features and if rumours were to be believed, her professional skills as well. But her beauty was not skin deep. He had seen her in numerous press conferences and heard so many stories about her from his mentor that he knew not to underestimate her. Felicity Queen was special.

“Hello,” she said when he didn’t respond. “I’m Felicity and I will be your interrogator for the night.”

Connor snorted and immediately regretted it. “Pleased to meet you, Ma’am. I’m Connor Hawke.”

She took her husband’s hand in hers, pulling him close and smiled at Connor. “Did you know that I met my husband in this very room Mr. Hawke? It was two days before Christmas and…”

“Umm, Felicity,” Mia’s brother interrupted, “I’m sure this guy doesn’t care where you met Dad.”

“Will,” his father chastised. Oliver Queen had a way with words. He didn’t speak a lot, not like his loquacious wife but when he did you couldn’t help but listen.

“As I was saying,” she went on as if the young man hadn’t even spoken, “we met in this room. Believe it or not, I had a broken thumb much like my stubborn daughter and he had a broken nose. Despite our broken bones, he didn’t hesitate to ask me out on a date-”

“Which you declined at first because you said that people would think you punched me.”

Felicity Queen’s eyes crinkled and a smile played at the corners of her mouth. “I was right, wasn’t I? The paparazzi got a photo of our dinner at Big Belly and had a field day thanks to our injuries.”

Oliver Queen smirked. “I always wanted to be an MMA fighter.”

“Dreamed of dating another fighter?”

“Nope. Dreamed of dating a cute IT girl.”

She blushed at his retort and he smiled cheekily. The older couple shared such an intimate look that Connor felt really uncomfortable.

“They’re always like that. After the first twenty-five years, you get used to it,” Mia’s brother murmured.

The Mayor winked at his wife. Connor had to give it to the Mayor. He was really good at flirting with his own wife. It kind of reminded him of John and Lyla.

“So, Connor Hawke are you planning to ask my daughter out on a date?”

“What?” he asked, startled. “Mrs Queen, I-”

“It’s Smoak-Queen.”

“Mrs Smoak-Queen, I just met Mia and I don’t think that-”

“Listen, Connor. You seem like a nice boy. I hope you’re smart as well.”

Connor couldn’t help but think of his upbringing. He supposed he was smart. Once he had applied himself to his studies, he had managed to make something of himself. He definitely wasn’t nice, though.

He was the son of an ex-convict and a kindergarten teacher, not the son of the Mayor and a CEO. He had grown up dirt poor in the worst part of the Glades, bullying smaller kids for their money, candy and books. The only reason why he wasn’t a gangbanger now was because of a man called John Diggle who was like a second father to him. When Dig had opened a youth center in their neighborhood people had laughed and scoffed at the soldier’s naivete. He had agreed with those people at first. The irony was staggering because Dig’s decision had saved Connor’s life. And the fact that Dig had used Oliver Queen’s money to make it happen was part of the reason why Connor could not ask the Mayor’s daughter on a date.

“Mia is out of my league.”

The Mayor scoffed. “Of course, she is. Like my wife is way out of my league.”

“You don’t understand. You were a Queen. I’m a nobody.”

Connor looked down. This was so awkward for him.

Felicity Smoak-Queen grabbed his hand. “Never say that about yourself. Never.”

She sounded fierce, like a small, protective Valkyrie. Sweet and sunny on the outside, badass on the inside. He nodded and she got up, satisfied with his acquiescence.

“Come on, Will. Let’s call your inlaws. I wanna make sure Addie’s fine.”

“I just called ten minutes ago.”

Felicity gave him a little push. “Let’s go, Will. I wanna talk to my favorite granddaughter.”

The two of them moved away, bickering. “She’s your only granddaughter, Felicity.”

One of the bodyguards followed them quietly, shaking his head.

Oliver Queen approached Connor taking the empty seat. He sat down gingerly.

“The chairs haven’t improved over the years.”

Connor tried to think of something clever to say. What did one say to the man who had changed the fate of an entire city? His mind drew a blank.

“You’re one of Dig’s kids,” Oliver Queen announced suddenly.

“What? How…?”

The Mayor leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. “There’s no point in denying it. I know all of John’s kids. He is so damn proud of each and every one of you. He sends me cards at Christmas updating me on your lives.” There was a wistful tone in his voice.

“So you know who I am.”

Oliver Queen didn’t even open his eyes. “Yes.”

“You know where I come from.”

“Yes.”

“You know who my father is,” he pressed.

“Yes. Ben Turner, mercenary, assassin and former member of the Triad.”

Connor threw his hands in the air. “And you still don’t mind if I ask your daughter out on a date?”

That seemed to wake the Mayor up. He stared intently at Connor, taking his measure.

“You hurt my daughter’s pride today. What makes you think she’ll agree to go out with you even if you do ask?”

Mia was beyond ready to leave this hellish place. Her parents had asked her repeatedly if she needed help and she had repeatedly declined. Will had left a while back when his mother-in-law had called to say Addie was getting restless again and that Josh was on his way back from Central City. The little munchkin needed to sleep in her own bed where she could have her parents close and forget about her aunt’s accident.

The vultures had been alerted about the Mayor’s presence in Starling Memorial and a flock of paparazzi was waiting for her outside the front entrance. Mia of course was about to exit through the back when she noticed him standing alone in the corner. Her blue-green eyes widened in surprise.

“Your face isn’t messed up anymore. Not that it was messed up before. Your face is fine. Very attractive,” she paused and cursed her Smoak genes for a moment, “what I meant was, before my brain and mouth disconnected, they fixed your nose.”

“They did,” he said, amused. His voice sounded like one of those old Smurf cartoons that Lucas liked to watch when he was little.

They stood, facing each other quietly. Connor was looking a bit uncomfortable but not distant like before.

“Mia would you like to grab a burger with me? Like a date?”

“I bet you ask all the girls you end up in the ER with.”

“Please, don’t make me laugh. It’s still painful.”

She shot him an amused grin. “But…” She took stock of the situation. “It might be better if we wait until your nose is healed a little.”

“What?” he asked alarmed. “Why?”

“Because with my busted hand and your busted nose, the reporters will think I punched you.”

He beamed at her as if she had said something funny. Suddenly, she realized they were standing so close that she had to lean her head back to be able to look him in the eye.

“Let them think what they want. Getting beat up by the Mayor’s daughter is still a better story than getting knocked down by a vintage sheep herder porcelain doll.”

“I knew it!”

[sunnybugz]

only fools

chapter: ii

word count: 2310

authors note: hi kids here’s chapter two!!! idk if it’s that good, but please leave constructive criticism as always! love y’all xo

7:00 AM, Rosa Diaz’s bedroom

Rosa awoke with a start when her phone alarm started going off. She was always grumbly and tired, but especially in the mornings.

Until she remembers.

Brooklyn Academy High runs on a day one, day two system, instead of a semester system. On day one, they have four classes, and on day two, they have their other four classes. And today is day one, which means she has dance first period. With Gina as her partner. If seeing Gina is dancewear wasn’t enough to make Rosa want to get out of bed, the fact that they’re currently working on ballroom dancing, and Gina is Rosa’s partner, makes her ready to run all the way to school. Rosa stands up, stretches, and goes to pick out her clothes.

Once she’s fully dressed for the day, in a red t-shirt, black jeans, and a leather jacket, along with her basic makeup and hair (nude eyeshadow, black eyeliner, a nude lipstick, and leaving her naturally curly hair as it is), she’s ready to go. She packs her dance clothes, which is a pair of black capri leggings and a black tank top, and heads out the door.

She lives in a second floor apartment on Sixth street, across the street from Comet Mini Mart, which is owned by the family of her older sister, Lillian’s, boyfriend, Lucas. They were super nice and always gave discounts to the Diaz family. Rosa decided to pop in before school.

“Oh look, it’s Rosa! Why are you in so early?”, says Amira, Lucas’s mother.

“No reason, just wanted to stop by before school,” Rosa responded. She wasn’t a fan of small talk, so she tried to make it as quick as possible. She wasn’t sure what drew her in to going to the store before school, but she realized she couldn’t leave without buying anything. That’s when she saw a box of Zebra Cakes, which she knew were Gina’s favourite. Rosa smiled a little at the thought of Gina, and at the memory that she had attached to this little fact. The two of them had been shopping for a cast party that they were throwing after their grade 10 play, and Gina had somehow convinced Rosa to drive her around in the cart - ‘I’m just so tired, Rosa. Be a good friend and push me around!’ is what she had said. Rosa didn’t even try to fight back. While they were shopping for snacks, Gina’s face had lit up when she saw the last box of Zebra Cakes. ‘Rosie, we just have to buy them! They’re the best snack in the history of like, ever!’. They ended up eating half of the box together on the drive back to Gina’s place, but that was okay. Rosa picked up the box and placed it on the counter.

“How much for these?”, she asked Amira.

“$3.00, but for you, $1.50. You are family,” Amira says to Rosa. Rosa smiles and hands her the money. Amira was genuinely so kind, but Rosa was too antisocial at these hours to talk to her.

When she reached the school, she headed straight to the auditorium change room. A couple of girls were in there, none of whom Rosa had bothered to learn the names of, but no Gina. Not a big deal though, Gina was almost always late. Rosa just grabbed her dance clothes and tried to change as quickly as possible. She just stood in her corner, minding her own business, until she heard the whispers.

Rosa had learned to deal with these since coming out as bisexual in the eleventh grade. She knew they would always be there, but they did catch her off guard this time since it had been about a month since she had heard anything.

“God, I can’t believe we have to change in here with her”, a tall, brunette girl who Rosa quickly identified as Jenny Gildenhorn whispered.

“I know, it’s like the teachers are trying to creep us out”, the skinny blonde beside her said. Rosa just bit her lip and got changed quicker. Luckily, the girls stopped when someone walked in to the change room. It was Gina, thank God. Gina walked over to Rosa and smiled at her.

“Hey loser, what’s up?” Gina asked. Rosa said nothing, just shook her head. It wasn’t like her to get so upset over little things like what those girls said, but she was. She was upset and angry and just wanted to punch something.

But she didn’t. Rosa's been suspended enough times to know that it’s so much better to get revenge where nobody knows it was you. “Nothing,” she responded to Gina, but gave her that look that meant it was definitely something. Gina cocked her head at Rosa, her perfect eyebrows downturned in confusion, but Rosa just shook her head. Gina still looked worried, but didn’t want to pressure Rosa into talking, as she knew she was a very private person. Rosa waited for Gina to finish changing, and then the two of them headed into the auditorium, where there dance class took place, and sat on the stage, where half their class already sat. Their teacher, Ms Richardson, was sitting in one of the auditorium chairs, waiting for the rest of the class to show up. When the bell rang at 8:20, the entire class had trickled into the auditorium and were sitting on the stage. Ms Richardson walked up the stage steps and began to talk.

“As you all know, we have been working on our ballroom dance routines for the past three weeks. Finally, everybody is in class, so we can begin to present today. I will be pulling groups from a bowl to see which order we’re gonna go in, but do we have any volunteers to go first?”. Nobody raised their hand. “Alright, exactly what I expected, so I guess we’ll draw our first group!” Ms Richardson reached her long, slender hand into the purple mixing bowl. The room was silent as nobody wanted to go first.

“And the first group is… Jenny and Eddie! Everyone clear the stage, and find a chair as close to the front of the auditorium as possible,” Ms Richardson said. When everyone was sat down, Jenny smiled at Rosa in such a mean girl, ‘I’m better than you’, way. Rosa clenched her fists and breathed heavily through her nose.

“Alright Rosa, what did that bitch do to you?”, Gina whispered. Rosa looked over at her.

“I’ll tell you later,” she whispered back. She didn’t want to think about that now. She had Gina with her, and she was safe.

Jenny and Eddie performed a graceful waltz. They were doing wonderfully, and it made Rosa so mad. She desperately wanted Jenny to trip, or mess up a move, or have Eddie step on her toes. But of course, Jenny Gildenhorn was being the perfect, graceful girl she always was.

When the two of them finished their dance, they got a round of applause. Rosa rolled her eyes, and Gina sat there, splayed out in her seat, not giving Jenny or Eddie anything.

Ms Richardson finishes writing something in her notes and then speaks up. “Okay, it’s time for our next group. The second pair to go will be Gina and Rosa!”. Gina immediately stands up, confident as always, but Rosa is frozen for a second. She takes a deep breath before standing up and walking to the stage.

Her and Gina had practiced for weeks. They were going to be doing a fun tango, Gina playing the traditionally masculine role, and Rosa playing the feminine. They were basically guaranteed some of the highest marks in the class, since Rosa did ballet from the ages of four to sixteen, and Gina was an amazing dancer, even without any training. The two of them took their positions across from each other, and waited for the nod from Ms Richardson saying they could go.

When the music started, something washed over Rosa and it was like she was back in Gina’s basement, practicing these moves over and over again until late at night. She had melted into the auburn haired girls gaze night after night, trying to focus on staying on her feet, even if all she wanted to think about was the fact that Gina was touching her waist, and the fact that Gina was looking at Rosa with that damn smile that Rosa fell in love with the first day she saw it.

She performed the moves perfectly, Gina’s touch hypnotizing her nerves away. When Gina twirled her, her heart fluttered and Rosa smiled. When Gina dipped her, their gazes met, and Rosa never wanted this to end. The music finally faded away, and Gina gave Rosa that damn smile again. Rosa couldn’t help but smile back. Gina was the one person who could consistently break Rosa’s badass exterior and cause a smile to crack open her stone cold face. Everyone else thought Rosa’s etched in scowl was unbeatable, but in Gina’s case, it just took a few words or a smile to break through to her.

As the two of them bowed, the class applauded. They walked off the stage back into the seats. They sat beside each other, and just as Rosa put her hand on the armrest, Gina also went to do the same. Gina’s warm hand landed on top of Rosa’s, but instead of pulling it away in shock or disgust, Gina kept her hand there. The Latina felt her cheeks burn a deep red, but thankfully the auditorium lights were dimmed. Gina looked over at Rosa, but Rosa quickly averted her gaze to whatever pair was dancing now. She couldn’t let Gina know how she felt.

By the end of class, almost every pair had performed, but Rosa couldn’t tell you a thing about any of their dances. The only thing she could think of was the warm hand that was sitting on top of hers, and the fact that Gina Linetti kept looking at Rosa throughout the class.

5:02 PM, leaving play read through

Rosa spent basically the entire day with Gina, as usual. On day one, they had dance with Ms Richardson together first period, calculus with Mrs Melton second period, then lunch, and then a shared spare after lunch. The only part of the day they had apart was last period, when Rosa had chemistry with Ms Weber, and Gina had biology with Mrs House. And then after school, they had a play read through. Of course, Rosa wasn’t complaining.

“Hey Rosie, whaddaya think about that kissing scene?” Gina asked her as she half-jogged up to her.

Rosa smiled and looked at the ground. “I mean, it’s no big deal. We’re actors, right?” she says. If only Gina knew how big of a deal this was to her.

“Yeah, I mean, totally. I’m excited to practice it.” Gina said. Rosa whipped her head around.

“What?” Rosa asked, but Gina had already started turning around.

“Gotta go, live the other way, bye!!!” Gina shouted while running away. Had she really said she was excited to kiss Rosa? There was no way in hell Gina was into her. Rosa wasn’t the kind of girl Gina was into. She was pretty sure Gina had never even dated a girl. Sure, she’d made out with girls at parties and such, (not for show, just because she liked it) but she had never been in a fully committed relationship with a girl. Hell, Gina hadn’t been in a real relationship since tenth grade, and she dumped the boy because she found out he was a Gemini (Pisces and Gemini aren’t compatible, we have to listen to the universe). Not to say Rosa was any better at relationships, she dumped her ex girlfriend Becky because she ate too much soup.

The entire way home, Rosa thought about Gina’s comment. What did she mean by that? It made Rosa both insanely happy and totally confused. Why would Gina want to kiss her? Sure, Rosa could admit she was attractive, but she never thought of herself as Gina level pretty. Could Gina really be into her?

Like the disaster bisexual she was, Rosa thought about this for hours. Finally, after dinner, she decided to confront Gina about what she said, because she wasn’t going to get anything done otherwise.

Rosa: what did u mean earlier???

Gina: ??? bitch u gotta be more specific, we spent 80% of the school day together

Rosa: on the way home from read through

Rosa: when u said u were ‘excited to practice’ when we talked about kissing

It was the longest minute and a half of Rosa’s life when she was waiting for Gina to respond. Gina was never away from her phone for more than thirty-five seconds max. What if she hated Rosa now? Had she said something wrong? Was she being weird?

Gina: idk, ur hella hot, and u look like u would be a good kisser. honestly, we’d be a hot ass couple, we’re both stunners.

Rosa screamed inside her head at this. She would have screamed for real, but her mom would kill her if she interrupted her little sister, Juliet, from doing her homework again.

Rosa: we so would haha

Gina: i gtg, see u tmw ! 💕❤️💗

Rosa set down her phone and sighed. Had that conversation actually just happened? This had to be a dream. There was no way Gina could actually think that. She was probably just being friendly anyways.

Rosa smiled until she fell asleep. She didn’t even know that people could hold a smile for that long. How did people do this with their face all the time?

Rosa knew, deep down, how people did this. Love.

[enthusiasticharry]

the one where you and harry go on your first date.

masterlist

asks

For the next couple of weeks, whenever he had the chance, Harry would try to go to the Café as much a possible, each time he would be met with the sight of your smiling face in his vision, and almost automatically you started apologising for what happened the first time they met, and now it just made Harry chuckle. He thought you were adorable.

He would walk in, take his seat next to the window and you would start making his Coffee, serving it black, and plating him up a blueberry muffin. He normally came after the rush hour in the morning, or the rush hour in the afternoon so you, most of the time, ended up hopping on the counter and demolishing a granola bar whilst talking to him.

The two of you would class yourselves as friends now, but Harry wanted it to become more, and there was something deep in you that said the same. You felt yourself waiting in the day for the curly-haired boy to show up, since he just made you feel happy, and you felt like you could be your goofy self around him, no matter how popular he was outside these four walls, he was just Harry to you.

He had been coming in and out for about a week and a half when he finally managed to ask you on a date, and you immediately said yes, but were quite confused about why he was interested in an odd-bod like you, but, all in all, Harry found you beautiful and your personality was so happy and inviting that he just couldn't get away.

You watched as his figured left the door, his head turning to decide which way he wanted to go before he stuffed his hands in his pockets, threw you one last smile before walking away, and you felt your heart swoon in a mixture of happiness and anxiousness.

You immediately shouted Violet to come to the front and she complied, a gruff leaving her mouth since she was eating her pasta salad in the back, "What'd want bitch?"

"I have a date,” You spok, a goofy smile toying on your lips as you watched her mouth drop open in shock before a squeal left her red-painted lips.

"What! With who?" She asked, doing a little excited jig for you, since she knew how long it had been since the male-species had even spoken to you in a remotely romantic way. Your ex-boyfriend had been a controlling dick, and you just felt happy when you left him, and you thought you deserved a break to just be single, but that was years ago, and you thought that you should probably start finding somebody again, since your parents, specifically your Mum, was getting ansty.

"The guy that I've been talking to in the Café for the past week and a bit," She said, and Violet bit her lip, feeling like there was something more to it.

"What's his name?" She spoke, a smirk on her lips as she watched you falter.

"Harry."

"Harry what?" She spoke, Violet knowing exactly who she had been talking to, and just wanted to play with you, to watch you struggle to get your words out. She knew it was bad to tease you, but she got a real rush from it. You were like her little sister.

"Harry Styles."

"I know, I saw the two of you the other day, you're not the best at hiding your feelings anyway, so when he started showing up everyday you would be pouty in the morning but happy after he came,” Violet explained with a laugh and you hit her shoulder, playfully.

"I really think I like him, Vi,” You spoke, a blush on your cheeks and a small smile on your lips.

"Ah! My best friend is falling in love, it’s about time," She spoke and you chuckled, "Just be careful, Y/N, I can't see you get hurt again. Not after Rick."

"I know. I will be, from the interactions we've had so far, he doesn't seem anything like Rick,” She still didn't seem convinced, but you didn't dwell on the fact.

You spent the rest of the day smiling, in fact, up until Saturday, you spent the whole week excited for the date, and it was only on Saturday Morning when you started to get nervous. You were happy that your warm water was back, and you got dressed quite casual, since Harry had never specified to you what to wear, but since it was a daytime date, you assumed. This meant that you decided to wear some distressed blue jeans, with a few holes in, with a random t-shirt that you found in your wardrobe tucked in. You honestly thought you looked cute, and that was what you were going for.

You had laced up your trainers, wrapped your leather jacket around your shoulders and left your apartment. Only to have to go back when you realise what a nice day it was outside and you knew that you would need your sunglasses, so you had to go back to grab them.

You had negotiated with Harry over the course of the week that you were going to meet at the Café at eleven am to try and miss the rush hour, which you did. You smiled when you walked up to the Café and saw him sat in his corner. You and Violet now called it Harry's Corner whenever you were mentioning that table, and you knew he was going to be sat there if he was already here, which he was.

He smiled when he saw you, and you did too, "Ready to go?"

You both left the Café quickly after you arrived, turning down the backstreets of London to the direction, you hoped, of where you were going.

"So, the plan of action for today, is to go to where I 'av planned now, and then go for somethin' to eat after. Does that sound OK?" He asks, and you bite your lip, suppressing a smile.

"That sounds great,” You say, smiling up at him, since he was quite a few inches taller than you.

You walked the back-streets the whole way there, obviously trying to prevent getting stopped by fans since this was supposed to be about you and Harry, and it was. You both started to talk, and laugh and it was just nice to get to know each other. Stories were shared, you both talked about what you loved doing and this happened all the way up until you arrived where you were going - an art gallery.

You smiled at Harry, surprised that he even remembered the conversation you had a week ago about art, and how you loved to go to galleries and just fall into the world of art. You weren't an artist by any means, but you loved it and you just thought that every single artist in society today are amazing and talented in their own way.

The two of you walked around, talking about any of the art that you found interesting, there were a few pieces that found you both in giggles from the completely oddness of them. You were full of smiles and literal happiness as you walked around, you often felt Harry take a step closer and you actually found it quite nice, and comforting.

You were all smiles when you finished the gallery, and the sun was going starting to set so Harry, with your permission, grabbed you hand and you started walking in the direction of the place you were going to eat.

You ended up at a restaurant, but it wasn't a busy restaurant and they obviously knew who Harry was, and that he had obviously made a reservation and, possibly, eaten here before.

Like earlier, you found yourselves in mindless chit-chat, talking about anything that popped into your minds as you ate the nice food that you had ordered. You were happy, and you swear you hadn't laughed this much in a long time, so you thanked Harry for this.

As the night came to a close, you made sure to pay for your food, since you didn't feel comfortable letting Harry pay, and you obviously still felt bad about the whole t-shirt incident.

You walked back to your apartment quite a bit apart from each other, trying not to make it suspicious to the wandering eye about what was happening.

"I really had a nice time tonight, Y/N," You heard Harry say as you walked up to your apartment, a smile present on you face as you turned to look at him.

"I did too," You say and he smiles, threading his fingers through yours before he gave them a quick squeeze, "It was lovely."

"I'll see you at the Café?" He asked and you nodded before he placed a kiss to your cheek and turned away to walk away.

You felt your cheeks heat up as you walked into your apartment, a giddiness in the pitof your stomach that you knew you would have a hard time getting rid off.

You did see Harry after that night, quite a lot actually and you were actually really happy when he asked you to be his girlfriend. It wasn't in a really out there and extravagant way, you were just laid on your couch, his arm around your shoulder whilst you shared a take-away pizza whilst watching The Notebook - Harry's choice of course.

It was just very out of the blue but you could help the large smile that was on your lips for the rest of the night, even when he leant down to place a kiss to your lips. It was your first kiss and you were very happy. His lips were soft against yours and, honestly, it was the happiest you'd been in a long time, and everyone could tell. Even Mrs. Samuelson, who didn't care really about anyone but herself and her Café.

There were a few days when the two of you couldn't see each other, since you both had jobs and Harry had started to have more meetings with Jeff his manager, and get ready for his Another Man Photoshoot that he explained he was going to be taking part in, but it didn't really bother you. You both would try to text and phone each other as frequently as you could, and it was all you needed.

You just felt happy.

[bintrbl-blog]

INTRO: YNWA

Genre :: Angst  Pairing :: Taehyung x Reader Warning(s) :: Strong Language, Violence, Drugs reference, Some Sexual Content (mostly later in the story) Author here~~ I hope you enjoy this series TuT im working hard on it i swear, PT 1 is a little bit of a mess just bare with me <333 Ok ily all

12 years ago Loud crashes and bangs rumbled in the lower area of a some what drab house. The creaking of floor boards was loud against the crash of plates and chairs being thrown about. This was your lullaby, your drunken mother throwing fits, combating your older sister as she struggled to get her to take her medicine and sleep.. Usually these fights lasted no more than an hour, but tonight it felt like an eternity. You, 8 years old at the time, pulled your gray covers up to your nose, tear soaked cheeks burning with anger and sadness. The frantic sound of your creaking stair caught you by surprise. The door to your bedroom flung open before quickly slamming shut, the lock clicking. You pulled your covers over your eyes, closing them tightly as you heard your drunk mother screaming from the base of the stairs. Your sister stumbled towards your bed, taking you in her arms to embrace you, "Y/N, look at me" She pushed your hair from your face, looking at your doll like features, such a young child... "Just go to sleep ok, no matter what you hear just sleep" She kissed your forehead softly, tucking you in... She stood, despite your begs for her to stay she opened the door, clicking the lock and shutting it once more...

"You bitch what did you tell her!"

"Nothing, go drink yourself to sleep!"

"Im not a drunk!"

You had enough, you pushed yourself from your bed grasping your school bag, slinging it over your shoulder, you took a blanket in arms... You quietly tiptoed to your window, opening it causing it to creak softly.. Lucky for you, your living room/kitchen area was more like a luxury basement (meaning it was underground) so you could carefully step out of the window.. Once you did you took off down the road, you didnt look back, not even for a moment. You ran all night, sleeping on a bench near your school, the only place you knew in town besides the slums you lived in.. "Y/N-ah~ Wake up you cant nap outside silly!" a little boy's voice echoed in your brain, prying you from your sobbing slumber. You linked your eyes open, wincing at the light in your eyes.. "Taehyungie?" you grumbled pushing yourself up, wiping the crust from your eyes.. "Come on Y/N-ah its time for school" He said gripping your wrist, pulling you towards the building.. Taehyung was too a boy of a not so good past, only having his sister and her shit bag of a boyfriend. Always pushing him around, hitting him, yelling at him... You two lived in the same ratty neighborhood and had been friends since you could remember... You yanked your hand from his grasp "No Tae... I-I cant go to school.." You turned away heading towards town when you heard his bag jingling behind you-

"Well i guess ill just have to come with you- where are we going?"

"i dont know.."

Present Day-

"Y/N BRING ME SOME TOILET PAPER" The yell echoed from the bathroom of your apartment, you rolled your eyes at the call. You and Taehyung, ever since that day, had been together, when your sisters found you, when  you graduated, when you got jobs, met your bestfriends, entered college, and now in this apartment.. You werent dating, but you were very close, if that wasnt obvious enough-

"UNDER THE SINK TAEHYUNG I TELL YOU THIS EVERY TIME, I swear you shirt wayyyy to much" You heard the cabinet door slam then the flush of the pipes, the door to the restroom creaking open. "I heard that you know" Taehyung huffed adjusting his belt. He wore a blue leather jacket, black jeans, and a white crew neck t-shirt. You only chuckled at him, the boy smirking at you as you walked closer to him. You gripped his jacket at the collar, adjusting it so it folded evenly, moving your hands to smooth out the leather on his shoulders. "I know, you were meant too" you smirked up at him, he only offered a roll of his deep brown eyes as he playfully nudged you. You chuckled turning on your heels heading for the kitchen. "Y/N-ah you should get dressed, we are meeting the boys for dinner rememberrrr?" he cooed to you from the doorway of the long horizontal hallway which had your bedrooms, bath, and a small closet. You turned towards where is voice was, the small open area of your apartment was quite simple. A couch, small coffee table, a lamp, tv, and a large bean bag chair was all that took up the living area. As for the kitchen it was simple, the counter covering the small wall near the entrance of your apartment, an L shaped bar area branching off along the wall the hallway entrance was located on. Of course you had your fridge, oven, sink, but other than that was a small fold-able table with 2 plastic chairs. You looked to where your balcony was located, a wall of windows with a rickety old sliding glass door. Out side the vertical shades was another small table and two chairs, just for when you too wanted to laze about. The walls were a meek off white, faded in age, the floor scratched but still a deep brown...

"Hello? Y/N?"

"Oh yeah, i should change"

A few hours had pasted, you all had finished your dinners and you were now sitting at a long table just hanging around, 6 boys, not including Taehyung, were seated around you. Along with 2 girls, clung to the arms of Jungkook and Jimin. It hurt a little to see them laughing a kissing, that emptiness in the pit of your heart ached everytime. However, Taehyung was there to remind you he had your back... You were seated close the wall, a close friend Yoongi sat on your right, Taehyung to your left, and in the three seats in front of you were Jin, Namjoon, and Hoseok.. Leaving the love birds at the far left side. The boys were all talking and having fun, reminiscing about the old neighborhood you all lived in, the school you went to which was now shut down, even the old park you all played in... You were all so grown up now, but they all agreed the one that neer changed was you..

"Y/N is still as quiet as she was in school"

"Yah! She really still is"

You just smiled, resting a hand on Taehyung's knee, he offered you a smile as you rested you head on his shoulder. The whole night you had been pretty quiet, the only thing crossing your brain was how many times you beat Tae in games of rock paper scissors you held under the table.

"so are you two a thing?" The girl linked to Jungkook asked, gesturing to you and Taehyung.. You just looked at each-other for a moment, smiles creeping onto your faces as you both busted into laughter. Your loud chuckles echoed in the drab and rather empty restaurant, the girl, Jennie, was rather new to the group, so this sparked a confused look on her features. Through loud chuckles you spoke "Oh nooo, Taehyungie is my bestfriend" You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly "Yeah Y/N-ah and I are just friends"

"Shes too cute for Taehyung anyways" Yoongi said slyly, craning his head to smirk at Taehyung, they always teased eachother. Even when you all were younger, Yoongi was 2 grades ahead of you and some of the others. But him and Tae always playfully butt heads, especially over you.. You found it cute, even now, knowing they couldnt possibly be serious... right?

"Hey now" You said gently shouldering Yoongi as you settled back against Tae, you played with his long fingers, gently tugging them and moving them, in your own little world.

'Tae youre drooling over there' 'am not' 'are too'

'stop fighting like children' 'youre not my mom Jin' 'might as well be'

You looked up at them all, heart strings being yanked in all directions as they all talked, "Joonie" you said softly, reaching your hand out to touch his. He looked at you a bit puzzled, smiling, cocking a brow. His dimpled tan cheeks a little red from your sudden touch, "Ah, Y/N what is it?" He asked leaning back in his seat, his gaze was always so seductive, even when just casually speaking, it was a quality about him no one could take away really-

"Why dont we go explore the old school or something, we havent really gone on an adventure and Jin's truck has enough room"

"Ah that sounds fun!" the boys all rejoiced in agreement, however Jennie shifted a bit looking at Jungkook, then to Jimin and JiSoo, she seemed to whisper something to them before standing, "I-I think i might just go home" You almost forgot, Jennie wasnt from around here, so she didnt go to school with all of you... You felt embarrassed, reaching across the table to grasp her wrist, "Hey, Im sorry, itll be fun we can show you around" You said smiling softly... It took a bit of convincing but before you knew it you all piled into the truck, You, Taehyung, and Hoseok sitting in the Bed of it while the others crammed into the cab.

As the car pulled into the abandoned parking lot and everyone made their way out of the truck, you yourself jumped out of the back, only to be confronted by a horrid scene. You felt your heart stop as a few figures came towards your group. The man in the middle of them stood with immense swagger, wearing a black crew neck, navy blue ripped jeans, and some sneakers... You knew exactly who he was by his slicked back blond hair which was under a backwards cap..

"Y/N, Hooligans, Fancy meeting you here~"

to be continued

[zane-balsis-blog]

Transgender FtM BINDING Now, I know some people are on a pretty strict budget.  Because of this, finding ways to bind breasts can be extremely difficult and pricey for some.  If you’re small chested, you definitely have an advantage.  I don’t know about the rest of you possibly reading this, but I for one am a C-cup, bordering on a D.  So I’ve had my fair share of difficulties.  I imagine my tips will work for people with smaller chests, but it will definitely work for people with larger. As many sites will tell you, DO NOT USE ACE BANDAGES IF YOU CAN HELP IT.  Ace bandages are meant to tighten with movement and so it will almost act like a snake on its prey; when you breath, it can get tighter.  When you bend over, it can get tighter.  I have used them in order to bind my chest before, back when I didn’t have much money and didn’t have any resources to tell me otherwise, and on top of being painful, it simply didn’t work very well.  The bandage would often slip and I had to make it extremely tight in order for it to look like I was flat chested.  If you must use one, I suggest placing a tight fitting sports bra underneath in order to pre-flatter and keep your breasts in place.  This will also give material for the ace bandage to stick to so it won’t slide quite as much and reduces the amount of sweat build up.  Be careful and do not bind too tightly.  Only do as tight as you need.  If you’re bigger, remember that it’s okay if you’re not 100% flat – most bigger men won’t be either.  DO NOT USE TAPE.  Especially duct tape.  This has a risk of tearing off the skin and also a higher chance of allergic reactions. If you have some money to spend on binders, though, I highly suggest you do, even if it means saving up for it.  A cheaper place to buy binders that work effectively is Underworks.  They are an FTM friendly site that will actually help those who are buying binders for the first time if you’re okay calling them.  They were very kind to me and helped me to pick out the best style for me given my measurements.  I was able to order three binders from here for a pretty reasonable price and they have so far lasted me for about four years and still bind effectively.  I believe I ordered the Double Front Compression Shirt because it was recommended for people with larger breasts.  If you can get away with it, get something a little less heavy duty, as since these covered my rib cage, it was very painful when I was getting used to it.  Only wear them for a couple hours at a time until your body becomes a little more adjusted to it.  You will be more short of breath and there will be some rib aching.  If it really hurts, take it off immediately and think of returning it for a larger size.  You want to be flat, but you don’t want to torture yourself to do it. Recently, I decided to try a new binder that has worked wonders for me.  I went to T-Kingdom, a company based in what I think is Thailand, one of the best places to be if you’re transgendered.  They are far more expensive (I was only able to get one binder for the price of what I got three for at Underworks), but they are definitely higher quality, in my opinion.  They shipped pretty quickly for an overseas package and I was very pleased with the results. I did order one of the more expensive ones; Model 801 Short “Sports-Bra.”  I chose it because it zippers rather than being a pull over and didn’t go down over my ribs, which is something I got extremely tired of with the Underworks models.  I still wear them, but I go for this one first.  The material is lighter while still compressing well, it doesn’t restrict my breathing or my movements, and it feels like I’m almost wearing nothing at all.  It does the job well and it breathes easy in the summer, so I didn’t sweat as much – an added bonus since, and this may be TMI but, I sweat like a god damn horse.  It’s ridiculous and annoying when you’re trying to bind.  If you can afford them, I suggest them more than Underworks, but the latter will be sufficient if you’re on a budget.  Full-length binders also have the added bonus of flattening out some of the curve in the waist and hips if it’s long enough. If neither of these are too your liking, simply Googling “Chest Binders” will come up with enough hits that lead to either actual sites or FTM dedicated sites that have more resources than I apparently do.  They also might have more at-home suggestions.  I never tried many.  I decided the binders were worth saving for. Moving on! CLOTHING Alright, there are a lot of videos on YouTube about this, but I’ll be damned if they ever really helped me.  I have a very picky style and the suggestions just made me look fat, not masculine.  You may find that these suggestions for clothing don’t work for you and will have to experiment to find your own style, or alter things to adopt it into what you wear daily.  But here’s what I know works. Don’t go too baggy.  Yeah, that’s right – don’t.  A size up may be a good idea if you’re more curvy, but I find that so long as I’m not wearing something skin tight, I don’t need to.  Nine times out of ten, bigger clothing will just make you look bigger, not more masculine.  Does this mean you can get away with skinny jeans?  Probably not.  If you have an ass or hips, you’re going to just show them off with tight pants.  But it means you don’t want to get pants that are hanging down around your ass and avoiding touching your thighs altogether – unless that you’re style choice, of course, in which case have at it.  What I find, though, is that baggier clothing just makes it look like you’re trying to hide something.  When I was wearing baggier shirts and pants because an FTM site recommended it, I only passed about 40% of the time, as opposed to how often I do now.  Baggier clothing made someone think I was pregnant, not male.  Not the outcome I was looking for.  Wear clothing that is in your size, no matter what that may be.  Avoid tight jeans, as I said, and shirts with ultra-thin material.  Avoid shirts with patterns that attract to the chest area unless you’re already extremely flat chested and can get away with it; I find that when I wear graphic t-shirts, I don’t pass as often, unless the print covers the entire shirt.  This is likely due to the fact that even the best binder can sometimes leave a little breast apparent, but only if you’re drawing attention to it. LAYER.  I can not emphasize this enough.  Layer, layer, layer any chance you get.  It’s a bitch in the summer, yes, but easy to do in the winter.  On a daily basis, I like to look professional.  I wear my binder, an undershirt (sleeveless, usually), a button-up shirt and a vest regularly.  The vest can sometimes add to the compression of the binder so I can get away with wearing one that was a little loose on me.  I wear these with nice pants or jeans, it doesn’t matter which, it just depends on if I want to look more casual or more relaxed.  Vertical stripes help, though I can’t exactly say why.  I just know they do.  Horizontal do not and can again make the chest look a little bustier.  Again, I’m not sure why, I’m not exactly a fashion expert here, but I imagine it’s along the same principle of vertical stripes making you look skinny and tall, while horizontal make you look short and wide. Shoes.  I highly suggest boots, especially one with thick soles that can add height.  It is always a good thing to add height wherever you can, however you can.  The taller you are, the more manly you will look.  Thankfully it’s not the be all and end all of passing requirements since guys can be midgets (sorry – vertically challenged?) too.  I suggest leather boots, though suede would work too – dark colors such as black or a deep brown are best.  I find that a pair of black boots from Hot Topic give me three inches while still looking very masculine.  If you live in a place where it rains or snows a lot, get waterproofing spray or they will fall apart quickly.  Cheap material is cheap. Colors for clothing are just as important as the clothing you wear.  Stick to darker or more muted colors such as browns, grays, black, deep blues and greens, etc.  I’m not trying to stereotype, but darker colors hide bulges and curves better than pastels.  Besides, take a look at the guys around you sometime – do you often see them in bright colors?  Maybe it’s a Maine thing, but you don’t see many dudes wearing pinks and purples and other bright and vibrant colors around here.  Once in a while, I’ll dawn a nice light blue or a mauve tone, but usually for special occasions and always with black pants and a black vest over it.  Again, it just helps to hide curves, I find.  Feel absolutely free to ignore this advice. Hoodies/sweaters of any kind in the winter are always a plus (or, if you’re crazy like me, wear them all year round).  If you like the pull over kind, that’s fine, as no matter what, it just adds to the layers I was mentioning earlier, but I usually wear zipper ones.  Why?  Well, not only do I like it better, but I also find that it once again hides any curves that my binders don’t, especially when I leave them unzipped.  They also go amazingly under my jean jacket and since I’ve worn them in combination, I have gotten called sir by almost every stranger I run into.  When I voted, they called me sir, and I wasn’t even binding that day.  The combination of my jacket and my thick hoodie was apparently enough to hide everything else.  This is why I tell you to layer. It really does work.  I’m not just bullshitting you. I think that’s about all I have to offer on clothes.  So moving on… HAIR As obvious as it may seem, don’t go for long hair unless you’re positive you can pull it off.  Even some of my guy friends who have long hair get called ma’am because of it until someone sees they have a goatee and then they just feel like a jackass.  All the same, to avoid this awkward situation, stick short.  I’ve tried a variety of hair cuts, but I find that a typical men’s cute looks the best for my facial shape.  If you like longer hair, going in and getting what I think my stylist called the “Skater Boy” cut works very well.  It’s lengthy with choppy layers, but still short enough to look masculine.  That typical hair cut you see on every teenage boy within a 4 mile radius these days?  Yeah – that’s the hair cut I’m talking about.  It’s great if you like hair in your eyes. A lot of FTMs I know recommend going to a barber.  They have more experience cutting hair for men so I can see how this would make sense.  Me?  I’m picky and probably spend more on my hair than I should.  I like my hair a certain way.  So I go to a salon with a picture of how I want my hair and tell them to do that.  They always do.  You want to make sure it’s a salon that’s GLBT friendly, of course, so scope around the best you can.  I have yet to find one that isn’t, or if they are, they’re really good at hiding it because you give them money whether they hate you or not.  Find a stylist you can trust.  If the current one you have is one you feel you can ask to start making you look more masculine?  Do it. I’ve found it’s a pretty large agreement amongst people to just get a new one, however, as your old one might always look to you as the female you were, unless they are knowledgeable on gender expression. If you have sideburns, make sure that they’re cut in a straight line.  Do not let them grow pointy.  Given that men shave, they’re sideburns are rarely if ever pointy because of the way you slide the razor.  It will do wonders in helping your jaw line to look more masculine. Body hair wise – leg hair is obvious.  Grow it out.  I wear long pants because I don’t grow leg hair very well.  It’s not very thick and my legs suck anyway.  But it’s good to have there.  Underarm hair is also a good idea, but I imagine you know that already.  Facial hair?  Now – that’s a tricky thing.  Your face is covered in peach fuzz that is only found on prepubescent boys and women.  Unless you’re Native American (some tribes, if not all, can not grow facial hair, so that makes you safe), then you’re going to want to shave.  Yes – that’s right.  Shave your face.  It will again bring a more masculine look to your jawline, get rid of your little boy peach fuzz, and help you to keep those sideburns cut off just right.  I read this somewhere on a site once and I thought it was bull, but it’s not.  It helps.  And it’s fun to do anyway. PACKING Uh. Okay.  This is probably more awkward for me to write than it is for you to read.  I know packing can sometimes be a very important piece to a lot of people.  I am the kind of person who is under the assumption that packing isn’t always necessary because believe it or not, most people don’t go around and stare at your crotch wondering if there’s a penis in there.  So if you don’t want to do it, it won’t kill you.  It won’t make people suddenly go, “Oh!  There’s no bulge!  They clearly have a vagina.”  I promise. If you want to pack, however, these are my suggestions: Wear briefs or boxer briefs. While boxers are great and I wear them most of the time, they suck for packing.  Why?  Because if you don’t have a harness, there’s nothing to hold it in place.  And even if you do?  It’s easy for your thighs to push the packer forward and then you just look like you have a raging hard-on while you’re walking through the mall.  No one wants to look like that guy.  Trust me.  It’s hella-awkward.  When I wear boxers, I find I’m spending 99% of my time trying to keep the packer in the right place and it just looks like I’m too busy adjusting and/or scratching my balls than to pay attention to wear I’m going.  It is not fun.  Not fun at all.  So yes – tighter undergarments are a must. Now, what kind of packer do you want to use?  Do you want to make one at home?  Do you want to purchase one online?  Do you want one you can use to go to the bathroom?  All of these are options.  Me?  I bought one online and do not use it for bathroom purposes.  Figuring out how to use peeing tubes seemed way too complicated and it would be a little strange if I didn’t line it up correctly and there was suddenly piss going down my leg in the bathroom, even though I had whipped it out and gone to pee in a urinal.  It wasn’t worth the trouble.  Using stalls is okay.  Sitting down is okay.  Or be like me and just never, ever use a public bathroom because they’re kind of disgusting anyway.  Here is a list of all sorts of packers, including instructions on how to make one at home.  This is the site I used to find the right one for me. I purchased the Mr. Right packer with a harness, though I can’t remember which site I got it from.  It’s about 4 inches, soft, and easy to use when I do decide to pack.  I’ve been pretty happy with it and thought it worth the money. NOTE: If you are going to get a stand and pee packer, be sure to check out the laws in your state.  When I lived with my parents, I found out the state I live in (and I’m pretty sure it’s the same in Maine) has a law stating that biological females can not use male restrooms.  Many people have had to get special accommodations in their universities for similar reasons if they are transgendered.  It’s a pain in the ass, but you don’t want to get found out and slapped with a fine if you don’t have to.  Be careful, guys.  Sometimes it’s just not worth the risk. People have also asked me sometimes whether or not it’s dangerous because other men might found out.  To be honest?  It’s unlikely they would.  Most guys don’t make eye contact let alone check to see whether or not you’re really a man when you come into the bathroom.  Not to say it doesn’t happen, thus the danger of being caught and getting fined for using the bathroom in the first place, but it’s rare from what I’ve seen. BODY CARE & POSTURE Keep your nails short.  It should be obvious that long nails will be seen as feminine, but you’d be surprised how many FTMs I’ve met who still have their long-ass nails and wonder why no one buys that they’re guys.  It’s up to you, clearly, but I highly suggest keeping them trimmed short.  It’s less of a pain in the ass anyway, if you ask me.  Long nails always break anyway. Posture is always hard to give instructions on.  I don’t want to come across as stereotyping male behavior because sometimes it can just make it seem like your compensating.  I do know that if you cross your legs, keep your ankle on your knee – don’t rest legs against legs.  Guys are more likely to slouch and keep their legs slightly apart then women are and they usually take up quite a bit of space because of it.  Don’t overdue it – you don’t have to look like a slob in order to look male.  I usually keep my arms crossed over my torso and I do my best to not.  Touch.  Anyone.  I hate touching people to begin with, but females are often more comfortable with bodily contact than men are with strangers.  So yeah.  Just… don’t cuddle up with random people and you should be good.  Seems easy, right? My best advice for body posture is to just people watch.  Subtly study males around you.  How do they sit?  How do they walk?  How do they carry themselves?  Make sure that you don’t walk with your hips, but instead with your shoulders.  Swing your arms a little if you can do so without looking like a goof.  When you’re home, try and mimic the men you see until you get it down so it looks natural.  Don’t force anything that is uncomfortable and do what makes you feel best.  I’m lucky and had three brothers to study off of, so I’ve just always held myself with masculine posture – but it leaves me with confidence in saying observing is the best way to learn. Most guys suck at hygiene.  Do with that information what you will.  Just don’t stop showering.  You don’t want to be the smelly guy. I suggest wearing Old Spice.  Why? Because anything is possible when you smell like a man and not a lady. That and it’s one of the top selling (I swear I didn’t write “smelling” first) body washes, deodorant, and cologne among men so most guys smell like it.  Really I’m just promoting it because I know my wife loves it.  Use whatever you think smells good. Ax is another good one I’ve found, but most girls I know hate the smells, so I don’t wear it quite as often – and when I do, I use Phoenix.  These are personal preferences.  Seriously, just go smell around.  In stores, preferably.  Not peoples armpits. VOICE This is difficult.  I suggest not trying to lower your voice in face-to-face conversations.  People can see the strain on your face.  Feel free to do so over the phone or Skype or whatever, but really?  People will buy you’re a guy with a high pitched voice most of the time.  Drinking milk apparently helps to lower tone by coating the vocal chords.  If you can use a convincing accent that makes your voice lower, do it.  Just make sure the strain isn’t obvious on your face when you do.  Otherwise you just look silly. One last thing that will make or break your passing.  This is the most essential part and you can not pass without it.  I know it sounds life or death here, but I’m very serious about this.  Even if you dress the part and smell the part and try to act the part, this is your deal breaker. Confidence. If you believe you are a wolf in sheep’s clothing, you will be seen as a wolf in sheep’s clothing.  Carry yourself with the assurance that you are male and no one will question you.  Don’t retreat into yourself, don’t constantly judge your every movement, just believe you are a dude and you’ll be fine.  People can tell when you’re sure of yourself and that can sell anything.  You could convince someone the sky was purple if you were confident enough while doing it.  Just repeat to yourself you’re male and soon others will see it as well. So yeah.  Those are my passing tips for FTMs.  They aren’t the best, but they work for me and many people I know.  Hopefully I’ve helped in some way to those who were lost before.  Otherwise, it was really fun to get down on paper, at the very least.  Don’t get pissed at people if they don’t work.  Ma’am and other such feminine pronouns are just meant to be polite.  People don’t know any better.  They’re trying to be friendly and getting mad at someone for being friendly never does anyone any good.  If you must, quietly correct them.  Just remind yourself it’s not their fault.  It will make life so much easier