#a LOT more will be explained about these 4 but please send asks or theatrics or headcanons! i love reading them!!?

[cyncerity]

ok so a long time ago i posted a list of characters that would be appearing in the Flubber AU, and there are a lot of people on that list that haven’t been talked about in this au…

until now >:)

hope you enjoy the first story for this au <3

tw: none

Quackity, for the most part, liked his job as a science teacher at a University. It gave him plenty of resources to steal borrow from work to use in his own experiments, summers and holidays off, and students that were mature and who wanted to learn what he had to teach (even if they were only a few years younger than him, given that he was fairly young to be teaching at a university). One of the only downsides, in his opinion, was dealing with parents who couldn’t understand that their kids weren’t as perfect or special as they wanted them to be.

Like the father he was dealing with right now.

“I’m telling you, they’re smart. They can handle this and I want them in your class. No exceptions.” The man at the other end of Quackity’s desk said. The man was tall, far taller than Quackity and fairly threatening. He had a permanent scowl, dark brown hair and mutton chops that made him look like a modern supervillain. If Quackity were anyone else, maybe he would’ve felt like he had to give in to the man’s demands. But he wasn’t anyone else, and he’d never been one to back down from a fight.

“And I’m telling you I’m not enrolling two teenagers into a high honors college science and robotics class. It’s not gonna happen. Mr…” “Schlatt.” The man spat, scowling further. “Mr. Schlatt.” Quackity continued. “Legally, against my own judgement, I can’t refuse their enrollment until they fail the entry quiz. But i’m telling you, don’t do this to them. I don’t care how bad they want this. I don’t care how smart you think they are. All that will happen is they’ll fail and they’ll be heartbroken. I’m sure they’re smart for their age, but I’ve had people 20+ years old fail this test a dozen times before they gave up. I’m not an easy teacher.”

“They’re free this Friday. 4 o’clock. That work for you?” The man said, apparently completely ignoring what Quackity had said. He huffed and stared down the man before sighing. “Fine. But don’t come crying to me when their spirits are broken cause of you. I’ll print a couple copies and tell the main office you’re sending them in for the test, I won’t be there myself. I doubt i’ll be seeing you again after they fail.”

For the first time in the meeting, the man smiled. “I guarantee you’ll be seeing a lot more of me, Quackity. Have a good day.” And with that, he stood up and left. Good. Quackity was looking forward to never seeing him again.

***

“Alex! Wait one second, I need to talk to you!”

Quackity paused. No one he knew called him Alex, and he’d had a rough weekend after another experiment had gone wrong and he’d had to deal with the mess, so he wasn’t in the mood to meet new people. But he did have a job he didn’t want to be fired from, so he sighed and turned around. An older woman from the office was running after him, papers in her hand falling and trailing behind her as she ran. He quickly ran back to meet her and grab some of the discarded papers. He did his best to put on his friendly customer service voice that he used with people who didn’t dislike him (yet). “Hi! What’s, uh, what’s so urgent?” “Oh nothing much, just a couple new students in your class! I figured you’d be meeting them in an hour or so, so you’d want to know a bit about them first!” She smiled, handing him the papers and swiftly walking back to her office.

Quackity opened the first folder and registered the names. “oh no fucking way…” he muttered to himself. Schlatt. Both of the boys names were Schlatt. He flipped a couple more pages. Both of them were only 16. 16! They both were privately homeschooled, but were commuting to the university specifically for his class. As he continued his increasingly frantic walk to his office, he looked through more of the papers to find what he was looking for. The tests.

The first one was in messy handwriting and a goddamn glitter pen. What the fuck. The name signed at the top was “Tubbo Schlatt,” and right next to the name was a teachers handwriting with his grade: an 83.9%. Far more than the 70% needed to get him an interview with Quackity for enrollment, and barely higher than the needed 80% to get him an automatic enrollment. That wasn’t possible. Maybe the test was flubbed, maybe the questions weren’t as hard as he remembered. He skimmed through the test, and though the writing wasn’t steady, it was legible. Every question was exactly as hard as he thought it was, and the score was correct.

He went to the next student. This one apparently chose a dark red pen (why the fuck didn’t these kids have normal pens), and thank god his handwriting was better. “Tommy Schlatt,” and right next to his name, his grade: 100%. Quackity was back at his office by the time he registered the score. He sat at his desk and read it again. Then he painstakingly went through the test with far more patience than he’d taken with the previous one and read every question and every answer. And to his astonishment, not only was every answer right, every answer was written with a level of intelligence he’d never seen if anyone that age (except maybe himself; there was a reason he was teaching at a university at only 24 years old).

Looking at the records of the test, both boys were in different rooms to take them and all electronics were stripped from them, so there couldn’t have been cheating. Tubbo took 2 hours and 45 minutes to finish his, and Tommy took just under 2 hours. Who the fuck was this kid??

“You looking at my test score?” a british voice asked, scaring the shit out of Quackity. He flipped his head up and was face to face with two teenagers, one leaning confidently against his desk and one hung back by the doorway. The one leaning on his desk was tall with striking blue eyes and curly blonde hair. He wore a smug grin and stared at Quackity with a level of authority no child should think they have. The one behind him was much shorter with a very familiar shade of dark brown hair bleached blonde near the ends and a similar smug grin. Or, well, Quackity assumed it was. He had bangs that came down well past his eyes, covering them completely. Quackity was sure that under the bangs, the latter looked exactly like his father, but the former definitely didn’t. Maybe he was adopted, but it certainly wasn’t his business to ask. Both of them were wearing the formal school uniforms, suit jackets, ties, button up shirts and slacks, but neither of them were wearing them correctly.

Blondie had his formal jacket tied around his waist and was missing his tie completely, and the brunette, while he was at least wearing his jacket, had it fully unbuttoned with the under shirt buttoned poorly and both sets of sleeves pulled up to his elbows, missing the tie as well. Both of them, if they were full time students, would get in trouble, but given that Quackity was their only teacher, it was probably up to him to correct what his superiors would call “rebellious behavior.” Good thing he didn’t give a shit.

“You find any mistakes yet?” The blonde boy continued, “Or are you gonna have to admit I’m as smart as my dad told you I’d be?” Quackity stared back. No fucking way was he about to admit defeat to a 16 year old. “We’ll see. Tommy, right?” Quackity responded, doing his best to not show how shocked he’d been upon seeing the test. The blonde boy, Tommy, nodded. Quackity continued. “That was only the entrance exam. I’ll admit you’re smart, but we’ll see if you have what it takes. Now, why exactly are you here almost an hour early?” “Well…we, uh wanted to make a good first impress-“ “We were bored as fuck and had nothing better to do than scare the shit out of you.” The bleached hair one, Tubbo, interrupted. “No!” Tommy shouted swiveling to turn to his brother, “No! That’s definitely not it!” He said glaring at the shorter boy who just shrugged. Tommy huffed and turned back to Quackity, his smug look coming back as soon as he looked his teacher in the eye, trying to look as cool as possible and failing. “We’ll be going now. Have to figure out the layout of the school and whatnot. We look forward to seeing you in class.” And with that, he turned and left, the boy behind him following and showing Quackity an L with his fingers as he left.

Quackity sighed. What weird kids.

***

“Tom, my battery’s low.” “Well, that seems like a you problem, now doesn’t it. Not my fault when you forget to charge.” “It’ll be your problem when you have to drag my sorry and dead ass back to the house.” Tubbo retorted, walking a few steps ahead of Tommy while kicking a stone down the road. Tommy sighed. “Fine, we’ll take the long way so no one sees you recharge.” He said, handing Tubbo a cordless charger. Tubbo smiled and grabbed it as they walked from the public sidewalk to a secluded path through the woods that lead to their house. Tubbo pulled his hair up, exposing his eyes, cold and lifeless. Human looking, but just barely wrong enough to trigger an uncanny valley reflex in most people. He wasn’t perfect, no android was, but he was close enough. After all, he covered his eyes pretty easily whenever he had to be around humans.

Tubbo tied his bangs back and popped out his right eye, exposing the usb port beneath it. He easily plugged the portable charger in and shoved his eye in his school pants, continuing the walk like nothing was wrong. It didn’t take long to get back to the house, the sleek matte rich asshole vibe of it greatly contrasting with the forest surrounding it. Walking through the door, they noticed Schlatt on their couch, scrolling through Twitter before he heard the door click shut behind them. “Well,” he started, getting up and coming over to them, “how was your first day of school?” “Great!” Tubbo immediately chimed in. “We totally crushed Big Q’s class, and I got permission to go to the gym during a break and use their equipment!” “Yeah, and he wasted most of his battery.” Tommy interjected, gesturing to the wire coming out of his eye socket. “Yeah, I was gonna ask about that. Wanna recharge in my room? I can grab a couple extra controllers so we can all play GTA.” Schlatt asked, both boys immediately agreeing and beginning to head towards his room.

Schlatt was a newer model, which was a bit awkward since he’d been around for less time than the boys but had to play their dad in public. But since he was programmed to act older, it never proved to be much of an issue, and was more a running gag than anything else. He was much less uncanny than Tubbo, but at the cost that his face couldn’t move as naturally, making him always appear kinda angry, but that was fine. Plenty of humans have resting bitch faces. But when they weren’t pretending to be a normal human family, Schlatt was just another friend, if not older brother figure. Tommy and Tubbo both loved his company.

But God forbid there be a moment of peace in their house.

“Tommy! Here, to my office!” They heard a call from the top of their steps. All three of them froze. Schlatt and Tubbo shot Tommy a look of concern before he sighed and shooed them off, assuring them that he’d get back when he could. So, they continued moving while Tommy went where he was called. When he got there, the office was as looming and threatening as ever. It was built like a supervillains lair, but with less torture devices and more binders full of money and stolen ideas. The man at the desk was none other than Wilbur Soot. Charismatic business man, robotics specialist, and the owner of the house and everyone in it. Tommy stepped up to the desk where Wilbur sat staring at a computer screen. “You needed something, Wil?”

“Why yes, Tommy, I did,” he said in a fake sweet, syrupy tone that he used when he didn’t want to address an issue right away. Great. Tommy wasn’t sure what he could’ve done wrong, but he knew the second that fake lilt was gone, he was gonna get it. “How was your first day of school? Anything odd happen? Anyone suspect anything?” “No, of course not.” Tommy was quick to answer, because he was right. They had all perfectly played the roles Wilbur had told them to play. “Great…then tell me why Schlatt got this email from an office worker: ‘We’d like to inform you that your child, Tommy Schlatt, had a perfect score on one of the toughest entry exams our school has to offer. We wish to meet with you to talk about potential offers with our university in the future and scholarship opportunities.’” Wil finished, the fake friendliness from his voice gone. Tommy, though proud of himself, knew that Wilbur couldn’t be happy with him.

“Wil, i swear i didn’t mean to! It’s just..the questions were easy! I knew them! How was I supposed to just-“ “You were supposed to get in, not draw unnecessary attention to yourself by being the best!” “So what if I’m the best! I-“ “For the love of God, Tommy, shut up!!” Wilbur yelled, smacking his hands on his desk. “You only have one task here: find out how to get at Alex Quackity. That’s it! That man has the means to make us millions if we can steal his ideas and you’re going to blow that opportunity before we even get it! I’m not expecting you to learn, or stay there, or have fun. You and Tubbo are there on a mission. Nothing more.” He stood from his desk and leaned closer to Tommy. “You wouldn’t be here without me. I made you everything you are today and believe me, I can take it all away. Do you want that?” Tommy stood silent like he always did when Wilbur yelled, like a switch in his brain clicked off. He shook his head. Wilbur sighed and sat back in his chair, staring down at his desk. Then, when Wilbur didn’t have anything else to say, Tommy turned to leave.

“Tommy, one more thing.” Wilbur said, and Tommy, ever obedient, stopped. “That test, your 100%; you didn’t cheat, did you?” Tommy shook his head, not even nothing to turn back to Wilbur. Wil huffed and waited a few seconds. “…I certainly got lucky with you, didn’t I.” He said, and he turned away back to his work. Tommy left.

[kylesvariouslistsandstuff]

So Far...

We're at the halfway point now.

The first half of 2023, box office-wise for the all-animated pictures, has been kind of more of the same... In that, Disney's animated feature releases - or one, in this case - are still struggling to get big crowds that are needed to cover the gargantuan budgets pumped into these things... Universal - for the most part - is still bringing home bacon. THE SUPER MARIO BROS. MOVIE landed among the highest grossing animated movies, period. Massive opening here in the states, incredible legs for a frontloaded picture, and especially for one that got a more mixed critical reception.

About the MARIO reviews... This makes me chuckle a bit. Very online people like to use the not-amazing critical reception of recent Disney-released animated movies to knock them and also use them to explain their not great box office ("well, if they had a made *good* movies), buuuut they either say the critics are "wrong" and "hate fun" for giving MARIO so-so marks or they just ignore them entirely. Tribalism stinks. MARIO does its job, yes, but it's also based on probably one of the most recognizable IPs in the whole damn world. Take that away, I wonder what kind of money that movie would've made...

But it wasn't entirely great for Universal this year, for they bungled the release of RUBY GILLMAN, TEENAGE KRAKEN. I understand that a lot of the Illumination and DreamWorks movies on Uni's slate all got domino'd, pushing the individual movies back a couple of paces... But June 30th was the wrong time to release this, and waiting till 3 1/2 months before release date to officially announce the movie to the world was also a big mistake (rumor-mills were leaking stuff about "MEET THE GILLMANS" instead of DreamWorks doing any talking... And we're but a little over a year out from the original movie opening theatrically after KUNG FU PANDA 4 in 2024.) if you ask me.

RUBY GILLMAN would've been a perfectly serviceable mid-July release, but Christopher Nolan has way too much power as a director, mandating that Universal not release *any* movie near his precious OPPENHEIMER. What a diva. I would've settled for early September. A good amount of weeks away from MUTANT MAYHEM, and having all of September, October, and early November to itself... I still wonder why Universal thinks releasing TROLLS BAND TOGETHER three days before Disney Animation's WISH is a great idea. October's wide open, it's like right there! In fact, BAND TOGETHER comes out in October in various international territories. Why not the same in the Yoo, Ess of Ay?

So, yeah... Universal had a high high with MARIO, and a low low with RUBY GILLMAN. That picture might make little more than SPIRIT UNTAMED. Maybe MIGRATION will be a SING-esque leggy Christmas hit for Illumination, and I'm sure TROLLS BAND TOGETHER will do pretty good.

Only one Disney animated release came about this year so far, Pixar's ELEMENTAL, which opened terribly (worst opening for a Pixar film, an opening on par with what TOY STORY collected in 1995 dollars)... But it's legging it up something fierce, it's sure to get the coveted 4x multiplier. Combine that with the "A" CinemaScore grade, and it's pretty clear that audiences quite dig the picture, despite what some weirdos are insisting. That Pixar has "lost its touch" or whatever, even though people have been saying that since the early 2010s. Disney's not going to send it straight to Disney+ just yet, they're gonna try to keep this thing spinning in theaters from the looks of it, hoping those classic Pixar legs keep it afloat while everything else comes and goes. It weathered INDIANA JONES and RUBY GILLMAN just fine, I'm sure it'll still hang on when BARBIE lands. Traditionally, Pixar gives their summer animated movies a Labor Day weekend bump, so I expect ELEMENTAL to be around till at least the end of September.

Disney botched this one, marketing-wise. The trailers were basically "Here's the premise, here's some gags, please clap." No hint of its actually solid and nuanced immigrant story, surprisingly light on the romance, too. Apparently that's cooties for the boy audience that they "should" be marketing to. Meanwhile, they're hyping up WISH as this story that's "a century in the making" and they seem to be pushing it as this definitive origin story of all Disney animated classics... Like, is it really that hard to tell audiences "hey, look at how cool our painterly fantasy musical is"? I guess it's a step up from how they just showed us STRANGE WORLD with no enthusiasm, and called it a day.

Sony is perhaps the real star here. SPIDER-MAN: ACROSS THE SPIDER-VERSE is their first fully theatrically-released animated movie since... THE ANGRY BIRDS MOVIE 2, all the way back in fall 2019... MITCHELLS VS. THE MACHINES, VIVO, WISH DRAGON... All went straight to streaming. HOTEL TRANSYLVANIA 4 had a limited run in select theaters, but was largely a streaming-only release... So yeah, SPIDER-VERSE Deux marks their return to theaters after a four-year hiatus, and as expected, the sequel to the sleeper hit superhero movie is doing fantastically. Landed among the biggest openers for an animated movie, and legs-wise it's doing quite fine, passing $350m here. Looks to be the 2nd highest-earning animated movie of the post-outbreak era domestically, toppling MINIONS 2. Worldwide it did quite well for itself, too, as it inches towards $700m and is Sony Animation's highest-earning movie. Wowee! It's their only release this year.

The Top 10 highest-earning animated movies of the post-outbreak era, domestically, are largely Universal and Disney releases. One Sony release - again, SPIDER-VERSE Dos - and one Warner Bros. release, DC LEAGUE OF SUPER-PETS. So for all of Disney's financial woes, they're still up in the top slots with Universal. ENCANTO, LIGHTYEAR, and ELEMENTAL all landed above $90m domestically, so they're kinda doing something right, the idea of the movies being free on Disney+ be damned. They're now trying to un-train the audience of what Chapek/Kareem Daniels' Disney - and just the market in general - conditioned them into thinking, which is easier said than done.

So while box office has been back for the most part, we're in an era where the market itself and the amount of money being spent on these movies (near $300m for INDIANA JONES 5... Just... Why?) is creating a system that is just sooooo not conducive to the individual movies. The game should be rewritten, but you know how capitalism and Hollywood go... The collapse of a ton of different movies this summer just won't make the money people see sense, apparently...

Nestled in-between these biggies was Crunchyroll's release of SUZUME, which pulled in $10m, not the best for this kind of anime feature release, but still solid enough. A new DEMON SLAYER feature that was composed of a few episodes of the new season did its job, and a few other anime feature releases. Then you had THE AMAZING MAURICE and RALLY ROAD RACERS, released by Viva Kids (what is this company again?), the former only pulling in about $4m-ish here and the latter... I don't even know. At my theater, there was one seat - in the front row - purchased for every screening throughout the week. Can you say... Money laundering? One of these movies was a British picture, an adaptation of Terry Pratchett that went straight to streaming there... And the other was a Vanguard movie, who somehow keep making movies despite most of them not making back their budgets. That's SHREK producer John H. Williams' venture, they did VALIANT, HAPPILY N'EVER AFTER, SPACE CHIMPS, a pair of movies that almost went to theaters in the U.S. (GNOME ALONE and CHARMED) but ended up quietly debuting on streaming long after completion, and... I've lost track, GET SQUIRRELY I believe was another one?

What remains?

The highly-anticipated MUTANT MAYHEM, which could very well be a SPIDER-VERSE-esque box office sleeper for the ever-lasting world of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, bows next month. I'd imagine, because the picture was animated at Mikros, that it didn't cost too much to make. Paramount Animation has been in need of a real box office hit for a looooong while, something that isn't a SpongeBob movie, and this one might just be it.

I expect PAW PATROL 2 - also from Paramount - to play like the first one, something for the kiddies and the preschool crowd, and it makes enough to cover whatever it cost to make it.

TROLLS WORLD TOUR should open fine enough and leg it fine enough, despite WISH opening right next to it. Well, five days later, but still... It should move up a few weeks, I think. Above $80m domestically seems about right to me, $200m+ worldwide. It probably cost less than $100m to make.

WISH likely cost over $150m to make, typical of a Disney Animation film. If the marketing really gets audiences to want to shell out plenty of bucks to see it, then I expect it to perform similarly to other Thanksgiving-release Disney animated movies of the 2010s. TANGLED and MOANA being my references, because FROZEN was its own beast. Solid opening over the holiday frame, fantastic legs, and next to no competition for the rest of the season. No STAR WARS or Marvel movie opening at Christmastime, no AVATAR sequel, the only real competition being... I dunno, that Timothee Chalamet WONKA movie that Warner has coming out? I think it'll do fine. I can see it opening with around $40m for the three-day, Thanksgiving boosts it, then it goes past $150-180m domestically. Maybe even higher, if this musical - which seems engineered in every way to hit the beats of what audiences associate with a "Disney movie" - really resonates with audiences. Heck, Disney could put in the next trailer "In Theaters Only. On Disney+ in fall 2024!" Tell 'em, yeah, you're gonna have to wait to see it for free!

May they all do well...

[taestefully-in-luv]

The Island | KTH (Four)

Summary: You’re just two strangers waking up in a room on a lonely island where a company in the business of love has placed you. They believe that thanks to their in depth research you two are destined soulmates. What happens when your ‘soulmate’ and you want nothing to do with each other but falling in love is the only way to leave?

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, very slight enemies to lovers, soulmates au, roommate au, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, slight crack, and drama.

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: swearing, sexual tension (?) implied sex

Notes: this is not a reflection of Taehyung’s art! Just saying lol But anyway, hope you guys like this chapter. Tae and oc sure have a lot of moments huh. let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, or send an ask if just want to chat about the stories!:)

Taglist: @ggukkieland @707sblog @peacedreamer14 @dopedreamfireparty @everythingnamjoon @taebae19 @typicalgenzworld @mooniyooni @getmemyfries @helenazbmrskai @justinetingball @jpeachytaev

© taestefully-in-luv

Previous --- Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Month 4

“What the fuck is that?” You point accusingly towards the paper Taehyung is excitedly holding up.

“What do you mean,” he grins. “It’s you!”

“…throw it away.”

“What?! No! I worked hard on this!”

“I look like a god damn frog.”

“In the painting or in real life becau—"

“THE PAINTING!” You leap towards Taehyung and reach for his atrocious artwork. Can he even call this disaster art? No offense, no actually, full offense but its ugly as hell. Taehyung lifts it high above his head.

“Listen, listen…don’t you think this hurts my feelings a little y/n? I worked hard on th—”

“I swear to God Taehyung…if you don’t burn this—"

“OKAY OKAY! No need to put out threats!” he pouts almost theatrically. You eye him up and down, waiting for him to make a move towards a trashcan but he just stands here.

“Well? Go throw it away.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Yeah, no.”

You close your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose, “What do you mean no?”

Taehyung narrows his eyes at you and laughs under his breath as he steps closer to you.

“First of all, you don’t tell me what to do. I prefer if it’s the other way around.” He smirks, “And second, I am still going to keep it. For the memories.”

You chew on your lips for a few moments, letting his words sink in. But for the memories?

“For the memories? Why would you want to remember any of this?”

Taehyung frowns at your words, he looks genuinely offended.

“I might not like our situation but…”

“But what?”

“Fuck, don’t make me say it.” He says while turning red. “You know, I still want to make good memories with like, you.” He admits softly.

You finally give in, gently reaching for the awful artwork. Don’t get it wrong, Taehyung’s art is usually so beautiful. He does landscapes and abstract pieces and they absolutely blow you away. But his portraits of people? Disgusting.

“Fine…” You smile down at the painting in your hands then look back at him, “But if I see this hung up anywhere I am burning it myself.” You smirk. “And I will take great pleasure in that.”

“Oooooh please tell me more about your pleasures.” Taehyung wiggles his brows at you.

“You’re the worst.” you smile, “Anyway, do we have a deal?” you stick out your hand for him to shake.

“Deal!” Taehyung cheeses, slapping your hand down and going in for a quick hug instead. You’re surprised to say the least, you kind of guessed Taehyung was the affectionate type but you didn’t expect to be on the receiving end of it. “I’ll be in my art room most the day. Movie night though?”

“Yes, movie night.” you oblige.

“Yay.” He chirps happily, skipping off to his art room down the hall. You can’t help but smile as he disappears from your sight.

But then your heart pinches in your chest. You want to feel happy. Are you just ungrateful? You should be happy. Taehyung is finally being himself around you and you finally feel like you aren’t as alone. But it’s all a façade technically…he’s got no one else, just like you have no one else. In the real world…if you two met would you become friends like this? Or is this all forced? Is your entire friendship fake? You feel your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach, you hate these thoughts.

He’s so different than you thought he would be…he’s lighthearted, he’s funny, he’s silly, he’s talented, he’s human. And don’t even get started on flirty Taehyung…You really thought he was some closed off asshole but as time goes on and he becomes more and more comfortable you see the real him, and you really enjoy it. And you hate that you enjoy it. What are you like? Are you still a brat? Does he still think that? You chuckle to yourself, he probably does. Has he grown so comfortable with you that he’s not as angry about being stuck here with you? No, you imagine he’s still really upset about this whole thing. He just doesn’t voice it to you as much anymore. Maybe he’s avoiding the subject. You can understand why. It’s awkward. This place wants to get you two together but neither of you are interested in the other romantically. You just don’t see it happening.

~~~~~

Taehyung is just relaxing in his room on the verge of a glorious nap, he is finally dozing off, eyes slowly closing when his head snaps up in reaction to a loud crash coming from downstairs. Now what the hell could that be? Panicked, he rushes to his feet. He flies down the stairs in record time trying to find the source of the loud bang. He stands in the living room, glancing around the area for any sign of you. Are you okay? Where are you? Shit. Frustrated, he runs his fingers through his hair and as calmly as possible calls out for you. But nothing. Fuck. Your name slips past his lips in growing panic.

He decides he is going to charge each room in search for you, when he reaches the door to his art studio. He can hear muffled words on the other side of the door.

“Shit. Damn. Fuck.”

He instantly roll his eyes to the back of his head, literally so far back all that’s seen is the white of his eyes.

“Such foul language for such a pretty mouth.” He whispers to himself, slowly creeping the door open, exposing a distracted and distraught you.

“Motherfucker!” you huff, your hands on your hips, eyeing the mess you made. God damn did you make a fucking mess. On the floor is a canvas, brushes scattered and a rainbow of colors splattered all around.

“What. Are. You. Doing.”

Your head whips in his direction, your face turning many shades of reds. He stands at the doorway making his presence known, looking at you expectantly, judgement in his eyes. At least he hopes you can see the judgement in his eyes. Because he is definitely judging like hella hard.

You continue to stand here, your blush deepening. He is too frustrated to find it anything but annoying. You begin to stutter out words he can’t make out. You are trying your best, that much is obvious. You’re trying to explain yourself but he can tell you’re only becoming more and more flustered at the situation. He is sure his annoyed expression doesn’t help your ability to speak. Whoops.

“I-I was…well, you said, well remember you said…” You try. You really try. He almost wants to laugh, but not quite.

“I-I said? I said what?” He keeps his stoic demeanor intact, just stressing you further. He’s almost having fun with this. Almost.

“Well, Taehyung…listen,” you try again. “You said,”

“I said?”

Your eyes scan the room as if there’s something here that will help you.

“Words y/n. I need you to use your words.” He demands, maybe having a little fun stressing you out. He sees your blush become such a deep shade of red that even he feels embarrassed.

Finally, you releases a long breath and words begin spilling out of your mouth.

“You said you wanted to keep that frog picture—“

“Your portrait, you mean.”

“Yes, yes whatever. Anyway, you wanted to keep it for the memories, right? You…you…you’re sentimental like that or whatever.” You pause to take a breath. “And and…”

He raises a brow at you, taking a few steps forward, mindful of the mess you made.

“And?”

You raise your head to look into his eyes. You’re staring so intensely that he wonders where you got this wave of confidence from. He stares back just as seriously. Your eyes are the same as usual, dark, plain, boring. For the most part.

“And…I decided that maybe, that maybe I want to…paint you…too?” you step forward. “You know, for the memories.” You tear your eyes away from him. But he sort of wishes you didn’t.

His brows pinch together at your little idea. You want to paint him ? He studies your face seeing if maybe there’s anything else. You look tense under his gaze, he admits that makes him feel kind of good. Is that mean? You look so incredibly shy, and it is so fucking...something, he doesn’t know what but it’s something. He continues to observe you and your shy expressions.

He looks down at you and breaks into his best shit eating grin, his hand reaches down to ruffle your hair.

“Yes!” he lightly chuckles, “Let’s make lots of memories!”

It looks like you’re in a daze, his reaction catching you off guard, he guesses. Taking a moment to collect yourself, you look up into his eyes again.

“Yeah, lots of ‘em.” your smile slowly begins to fade, “We won’t be here forever, so we have to leave with lots of memories.” you mutter.

Taehyung feels himself go soft at your words.

“y/n…” he slides his fingers down to cup the back of your head, fingers gently massaging your scalp. “When this is all over…we can still be in contact, you know?” Your eyes travel to the floor, eyeing the mess you made. He’s still getting over that.

“I know…but Taehyung, I still feel like I don’t even know basic things about you! Like what even is your favorite, uh, I don’t know, animal? I can’t tell you how long I have been wondering that and—”

“Then let’s have a whole night dedicated to that. Let’s drink some wine, paint some pictures and learn everything there is to know!” he moves his hand forward, his fingers playing at the ends of your hair, “Like, what shampoo did they give you because your hair is soft as fuck.”

You give him an unimpressed look,

“I know you steal my shampoo sometimes, I’m not dumb.”

“Don’t know what you are talking about.” He cheeses.

“But okay,” you grin at him, “Let’s do that.”

“I love Koalas and sloths!” You’re laid out on your stomach, swinging your legs above you while sipping on your red wine.

“You can’t choose two!”

“I just did.”

“Fine. Mine is…drum roll…its…” he pats the floor repeatedly.

“Oh come on! Tell me! I’ve been dying to know!”

“Its…lion!” he lays next to you, resting on his side. He eyes the painting you are working on. It’s supposed to be him…supposed to be.

“I like lions too.” You add more color to the background of the canvas. He can hear the smile in your voice.

“Sheesh…and you think I am bad at drawing people…”

“Stop being a hater!”

“ME?” he stares at you incredulously.

You and Taehyung are a few glasses of wine in already. He can tell its hitting you harder than its hitting him, you’re extra talkative and all giggly. He’s painted a picture of the beach while you’ve worked on a portrait of him, it’s amusing to say the least—the portrait. Pretty quickly glasses turned into bottles. Bottle number 3 has been opened and now he is also talkative and all giggly. He’s a giggly lil thang when he’s drunk, and he is drunk.

“Okay,” he sits up, sitting on his legs. “First impression of me, go!” he laughs, for literally no reason.

“I thought you kidnapped me.” You state plainly, “So like, a creepy person.”

His jaw drops.

“I’m offended!” He lays his hand over his heart. “You thought I was creepy?! And there I was thinking you were just some hot chick I hooked up!” Yes, he called you hot to your face. He is drunk, he is allowed to do that. Yeehaw.

“Okay to be fair, that thought crossed my mind too.”

“That I was some hot chick you hooked up with?”

“I never said hot.”

“But you were thinking it, right right?” he wiggles his eyebrows in the most exaggerated way.

You smirk before chugging back the rest of your wine, reaching for a new bottle.

“Okay, maybe I thought it.” You admit, your sly smile growing.

“Want me to open it?” he gestures towards the wine bottle.

“Please.”

He reaches for the bottle of wine, his hands brushing against yours. He hates that he feels a quiet fire in his insides when he touches you. He hates how when his skin makes contact with your skin there is an automatic heat that lights up and warms him, burns him almost.

“Do you have someone? That you like?” You slur out, curious about Taehyung’s love life.

“…Yes.” Taehyung admits softly.

“I am what they call a ‘Dilf’” Jin states confidently. The rest of the boys share a look of confusion.

“You literally aren’t a dad?” Jimin looks at Jin with a puzzled smile.

“But you can’t tell me I am not a ‘dilf’ though.”

“Okay Jin, you’re a dilf.” Namjoon rolls his eyes, going back to his book.

“I wanna be a dilf too.” Jungkook whines and Taehyung nods his head in agreement. Jin shakes his fingers at the boys and speaks up.

“You have to earn the title.”

“Yeah, by being a dad.” Jimin deadpans.

“Let the man have his dreams.” Yoongi says before putting his ear bud back in his ear and nodding along to whatever song is playing.

“My dream is to finish this assignment.” Hobi groans into his pile of papers on the table.

“This is your fault for going back to school for your masters!” Taehyung teases. He has just recently dropped out of school and he is loving it. He watches as his friend works night after night on paper after paper and Taehyung no longer has to worry about things like that. He can just focus on the music.

“Are you guys using this chair?” Taehyung hears a sweet voice cut off all their chatter. He looks up to see this gorgeous girl with light brown hair that reaches her waist and eyes as bright as the sun.

“Uh, no.” Taehyung clears his throat, “You can take it.”

“Thanks.” She smiles at Taehyung and then at the rest of the boys before she’s dragging the chair to the table next to them.

“Holy shit.” Taehyung whispers to Jungkook, “She’s so pretty.”

“That’s Hana.” Jungkook looks over his shoulder at Hana and her friends. “I have a class with her.”

“Bro, introduce me!” Taehyung begs. “You literally owe me.”

“From what?!”

“I let you fuck that one chick like 2 years ago even though I saw her first.”

“Oh? You let me? Really?” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “But anyway, sure. I’ll introduce you.” He says nonchalantly, picking up his drinking and taking a sip.

“Taehyung?” you wave your hand in front of his blank face. “Taehyung?” “Huh? Yeah?” he starts snapping out of his memories, “what’s up? What did you say?”

“I asked her name.” you smile awkwardly, “The girl you like.”

“Hana.” He quietly clears his throat, “What about you? Do you have someone?”

“After my ex? I am staying away from men for a while.” You laugh, “Like, can you blame me?”

Taehyung can’t help by frown at your words.

“Don’t close yourself off…” Taehyung whispers to you. “You’re too pretty for that.” He slurs out and you blink at him repeatedly.

“I’m pretty?”

Taehyung scoffs and rolls his eyes playfully.

“Like you didn’t know.”

Hours pass you two by, more wine has been drank and you two are giggling like school children. Taehyung is folded over, laughing a storm as you do your best impression of a dolphin. You can’t help but fall over and laugh your head off as well, the alcohol obviously has made you two crazy.

Taehyung finally calms down and looks at you with soft eyes, “So, what’s your biggest fear?” he asks, leaning forward.

“No!” you laugh. Fucking laugh. “Listen, we can go back to our serious convos another day…right now I wanna…” you slur your last words, “wanna talk about fun stuff.” you give him the most sleazy wink he’s ever seen. It kind of works for him though.

“Okay.” He agrees easily, “Tell me the story about how you lost your virginity? Don’t leave anything out”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “Wanna know the dirty details huh?” you part your lips and smile.

“Dirty? I bet it was as vanilla as vanilla gets.”

You frown at his words, “I’m not vanilla. I’m fun, I swear.” you pout.

“I didn’t mean it as boring babe. I just mean you probably lost it to like your high school sweetheart, your first love, blah blah blah. The romantic shit.” You exhale a short breath…babe? You like the new friendly nickname, you admit.

“Actually it’s the opposite.”

“The opposite?”

“First year of college. Random guy from a bar. Total one night stand type of situation. I didn’t even tell him it was my first time. I think he probably just thought I was really inexperienced. “ You laugh to yourself. Sounds like a situation you might regret but there is no bitterness in your tone.

“Oh wow. y/n the cry baby can do one night stands?” he teases.

“I’m full of surprises you know.” The glint in your eye tells him he’s going to find out eventually.

“Well then what are the dirty details?” he pries further, leaning into your space again.

“Hmm, don’t think I am drunk enough for that.”

“Oh, I can grab another bottle of wine.” He teases, “But fine.”

“About your comment about me being vanilla…” you begin but Taehyung is cutting you off with the shake of his head.

“I didn’t mean it bad—”

“Are you into vanilla sex?”

Taehyung’s eyebrows crawl to the top of his forehead and his mouth falls open.

“Why are you asking that?” he breathes out, his eyes darkening.

“They paired us together, you know? We probably have more in common than you think…my guess that means sex too.”

“I know we have that in common.” He smirks, “I’m guessing you never looked in the other room?” he quirks a brow at you. “You might find it interesting.”

“The other room?” you tilt your head to the side, “Oh? The one upstairs next to your bathroom? Yeah, I stuck my head in there once…I saw it’s just another bedroom.”

“Is it really just another bedroom though? You didn’t have a look around?” his sly smile grows on his stupidly handsome face. “Like I said…you might find it interesting.”

“What are you talking about?” you slur, “Why would I…?”

Taehyung rises to his feet, walks towards you and leans down until he’s softly gripping your arm and pulling you up.

“Let’s go explore.” He chuckles, “I want you to see the room.” He’s guiding you out the art room, you two stumbling through the door.

You both begin to make your way upstairs, his hand never leaving your arm as you two walk. You keep bumping into him and he only laughs, squeezing your arm every few moments. You guys walk through the hall until you’re standing outside the bedrooms door.

“Go on.” He looks at you with a smirk, “I want you to explore this bedroom.”

“You’re being weird.” You giggle, opening the door.

And just like you thought, it’s just a bedroom. There’s a large bed in the middle of the room against the wall, and a couple of dressers, a closet, a huge ass mirror and other normal bedroom things.

“And?” You glance at Taehyung.

He looks at you with an amused smile. “Explore.” He commands.

You give him a weird look before walking through the room, your hand slides against the dresser that holds the extra large mirror. You catch your reflection and smile at how drunk you look. Taehyung walks behind you and eyes both of your reflections, he steps close to you and chuckles.

“I like this mirror.” He whispers. “Great view of the bed.”

“Uh yeah?” you look at him through the mirror, “I guess so.”

“Explore the drawers.” His evil grin makes you nervous…you look down at the drawers and open the first one on the left, there’s multiple things inside but you can’t tell what they are. You stick your hand inside and grab the first thing it can find. You pull this object out and bring it closer to your face, your drunken vision making it hard to identify what it is. Then your eyes are expanding and you drop the object in the drawer, the loud thud making you jump.

“What was that?” Taehyung whispers, “Something you know right?”

A dildo. Your eyes scan the rest of the drawer only to see more, along with other toys. You quickly slam the drawer shut and turn around to face Taehyung, who is standing so close behind you.

“What the hell?” you stutter out, turning red.

“That’s not all. Check the closet.” He says quietly, pointing towards the closet. And you listen, you walk forward until you’re standing beside the sliding door. You open it and see various articles of clothing.

Lingerie and outfits. Maid, nurse, etc. You stare at the clothes in disbelief.

“What is all this?” you turn to face Taehyung.

“You tell me.” He says chuckling, “Seems like we like the same stuff.” He shrugs. “Maybe you can,” he walks closer and is touching the maid lingerie, “wear this next you’re cleaning the house.”

He’s teasing you. Your stomach twists and turns, your heart is jumping out of your chest and you feel so fucking warm.

“S-Shut up.” You lean back on the door.

“Oh baby, I think you and I both know who tells who what to do here.” He breathes out, not looking at you as he still plays with the material of more lingerie.

“Taehyung,” you sigh, “The cameras can’t hear you in here.”

“Ah,” he turns to face you, “Right. Should we head back downstairs?”

“Yes.” You slur out, feeling quite dizzy.

Month 5

It’s the bright white screen you know all too well…it has you releasing a shaky breath as you wait for the black letters to eventually appear.

“Hey Taehyung…” you call out for you roommate who is making something to eat in the kitchen. “I think we have an incoming message from our,” You pause, huffing out. “Our little friends.”

“Oh. Oh shit.” You hear Taehyung whine from behind you. “I thought they were finally starting to back off…” he sighs out. “Let’s see what these fuckers want.”

Request:

Skinny dip for 1 hour. Must be within a foot of one another.

Ex-excuse you? Ex-fucking-cuse you? Skinny who what for when what? Your eyes bulge out of your head. This has got to be some sort of joke.

“Hell no!” you yell out, not even sparing Taehyung a glance.

Voice full of panic, Taehyung is quick to bring up the alternative.

“The penalty!” he rushes. “What’s the penalty? We will just do the penalty!”

Penalty:

No power or running water for 3 days.

“No pow—what the fuck?” Taehyung shakes his head, disbelief written all over his face.

“Wait! And no running water? Like, we can’t flush the toilet for 3 days? That’s bullshit!” you drag your hands down your face, “And wont the stuff in our fridge go bad?”

Several long moments pass between you two and not in a cool way. There’s nothing cool about this shit. There’s tension filling the air around you both. Awkward tension.

“Isn’t this too much?” Taehyung finally says, obviously not able to tolerate the silence any longer.

You both exchange worried glances with one another before Taehyung says some shit you don’t like.

“Let’s just do the request.”

Your eyes basically pop out of your head.

“Are you out of your mind—do the requests? How could you say that so easily!” you mumble, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“I feel like it’s the best choice.” He gives his honest answer. “Plus, you’ve never seen a naked man before? We will get over it y/n. Knowing me and you, we will be laughing about it in a couple days.” He finally turns to face you, throwing a wink your way, “You know it’s true.”

You mull over your options and hate that he’s right. You very timidly respond with a quiet ‘okay’ and avoid his eyes. His dark, intimidating eyes.

Your heart is racing, No, that is an understatement; your heart is on the verge of explosion. Your nerves are scattered and pounding from the inside out. You are freaking out. Naked with Taehyung? And he seems cool as a fucking cucumber.

“Let’s meet outside once it’s completely dark out.” You suggest.

“Read my mind.”

“…Of course I did, we’re” you roll your eyes. “Soulmates.” you laugh bitterly to yourself, “anyway, I’ll just see you tonight.”

“So you’re just going to avoid me until tonight?” Taehyung asks, “It’s not like they’re asking us to fuck.” He sways on his feet, “Just keep your eyes on my eyes and we will be fine.”

“Right.” You choke out, “Because it’s that easy.”

“Are you saying it’s impossible not to check me out?” he teases and you feel your cheeks heat up.

“Shut up.”

“Brat.”

Night fall approaches sooner rather than later. You wish it would have taken a million years to appear but nope, here you are. You stand outside with Taehyung in front of you. You’re in an oversized t shirt and loose shorts, keeping it simple since they’re coming off anyway. Taehyung wears his usual sweats and a white tee. You two are standing next to the pool, knowing the time has finally come. After leaving Taehyung earlier this afternoon, you took a much needed nap to clear your head.

“Don’t let your eyes linger.” You mumble, nodding your head in his direction.

“Ha, I was going to say the same thing to you.” He pokes his tongue out. Taehyung looks fucking comfortable as fucking always. Like, this doesn’t bother him in the least.

Luckily, the tension is tolerable. So you decide to make the first move. You begin unbuttoning your shorts—

“Woah! Woah! Woah! Wait!” he yells. His arms flailing, trying to stop you.

You scrunch your nose in annoyance, “What?” you ask, not too pleased since you are just trying to get this over with. If you got told 5 months ago that you would be in a hurry to get naked in front of this guy you would ugly laugh. Yet here you are.

“It’s just-it’s just…we should go at the same time.” Taehyung rushes to say.

“Oh, okay. Pants first, let’s go—”

“No! that’s awkward.” He shakes his head, “shirt first.”

“Okay, okay.” You oblige, “weirdo” You whisper loud enough that he can hear you.

The two of you begin with your tops, you try to focus your eyes elsewhere but they naturally skim the skin of his chest and abdomen as his shirt comes off quickly. Taehyung doesn’t even try to look away as you undress, his dark, intimidating stare causing you to feel chills. You slip off your pink t shirt, exposing your bare torso that is laced with a pretty black bralette. His gaze doesn’t waver.

“Okay, next is our bottoms right?” You gulp. He only nods.

You continue the job on unbuttoning your shorts, letting them fall to your feet exposing your matching black panties. Yes, you wore a sexy matching set on purpose. If he’s going to see you like this why wouldn’t you want to look good? You would do that for anybody. You can feel him eyeing you as he slips off his sweats, leaving him in nothing but a pair of blue briefs.

Finally, you are left in nothing but your underwear. You eye him over, his body is so fucking nice it makes you feel bad for even standing next to him. His briefs are a light blue, leaving little to the imagination. You can literally see the outline of his—you know what. Is he sporting a semi, right now? You do an up and down of your own body when you realize you have more clothes than him!

“Hey this is unfair!” You whisper, covering your chest with your arm. “I have to strip my bra off and you what, just get to watch?”

“Oh? So I am allowed to watch?” he responds playfully. It’s that same teasing tone you’re still trying to get used to.

“Well, you’re obviously going to see…” You grumble, lowering your arm. “Welp, here goes.”

Taehyung swallows rather hard, his eyes trailing your body pretty shamelessly. You reach in front of you, unhooking the bralette and letting the straps fall off your shoulders before letting the whole thing fall to the ground.

“Uh, okay.” Taehyung clears his throat. “Now our underwear.”

“Right.” You say while reaching for the band of your panties, pulling it back a bit and letting it go, the material slapping against your hips. You swear you see his dick move at that.

“Okay.” Taehyung’s breathing is heavier than before, “On 3? 1…2..”

“3!” you shout in unison.

You both begin stripping away your last piece of clothing. You’re the first to be fully undressed. You let your panties drag down leg by leg until they join the pile of clothes at your feet. It’s not that you’re trying to do this in a sexy manner, but if it comes across sexy—then so be it. Taehyung pauses mid action, his eyes scanning your body again. God, you are starting to get really nervous again. His gaze absolutely thrills you, you can admit that. You’d live a life of torture to have him stare at you like this all the time. You see him lick his lips then shake his head. You didn’t just imagine that right?

“Hurry up.” You plead.

Taehyung finally drags off his briefs. By the looks of it he looks mostly hard, as his cock springs free. Holy Fuck. Your last ex—Ben—was not this…blessed. Taehyung has every right to be as cocky as he wants, he’s earned it. His dick is long in length but he also seems to have girth. How is one man blessed this much? You would have to have your hand wrapped around it—or your lips—to really know how thick he is. Jesus fucking Christ, what are you saying? You think your best excuse is that you are dick deprived. Also…how long have you been staring? You will say long enough by the look Taehyung is giving you. It’s that shit eating grin that just screams he is one cocky bastard.

“Okay,” you clear your throat, forcing yourself to look into Taehyung’s eyes. “Let’s get in the pool.”

“You got the timer?” Taehyung chuckles.

“It’s laying on the ledge.” you point at it, walking closer to the pool. “Ready?” you look up at him, waiting for his response.

“You look beautiful by the way.” He says out of nowhere. “I mean, as always.” He winks.

You blush pretty fucking hard at that, you can feel all the heat rush to your cheeks, lighting you on fire.

“Are you-are you ready or what?” you grumble.

“Always.” He grins, reaching for you hand. “Let’s go.”

You two tip toe into the water, pausing every few seconds to get use to the temperature of the water. You stop once the water reaches your collarbones, you walk towards the wall, lean against it and face forward. You turn the timer on and you both exchange a few words but you remain mostly quiet, You don’t think either of you know what to say. Every minute that passes (about 15 to be exact) has your nerves spiking.

You hear Taehyung sigh deeply as he inches closer towards you. Now why would he do that? He inches so close that your shoulders are touching, he sinks a little further into the water and then surprising you, he rests his head on your shoulder. What the fuck is he doing?

“We can have a foot of space between us.” You remind him awkwardly.

Taehyung remains quiet, you only hear his soft breaths.

“Taehyung?”

“You know how hard it is going to be to get the image of you naked out of my head?” He whispers with a chuckle.

“Don’t start using me as masturbation material.” You joke, your eyes looking out at the water. It’s calm and bright from the lights inside the pool.

“Start? You think you haven’t entered my mind before?” he jokes back. At least you think he’s joking.

“Stop playing.” You laugh awkwardly.

Taehyung is quiet again and you can feel the tension that always visits you two starting to build.

“Do you…have you…have you thought about me before?” you manage to slip out, surprising yourself.

“You’re asking if I’ve—”

“If you’ve thought about me when you have ‘alone’ time’ ya know?”

“Do you think I haven’t?” he lifts his head and stares at you. “y/n…I’m a guy. And you���re kind of the only person I see.”

Oh. It’s not like I see anyone else. His last words repeat in your mind. Of course, that makes sense. He’s stuck with you, of course you’ve entered his mind, probably against his will or whatever.

“I see.” You say softly. You step to the side, getting further from him and he frowns.

You two stand here, barely speaking. Maybe another 20-30 minutes pass when Taehyung dramatically huffs out.

“Listen y/n…about earlier.” Right earlier. When you made a fucking fool of yourself. Asking your friend is he has ever jacked off to you before! Before he can continue you slap a finger over his pouting lips, shushing him.

“Do you really think now is the time?”

“We have time to kill—”

“—okay! So let’s talk about something else!” you happily offer.

But you guess Taehyung isn’t having it, he steps closer and rests his head on your shoulder again, his breathing picking up. Why is he breathing so hard?

“Just hear me out, okay?”

You only stare ahead, exhaling deeply. What to do…maybe there’s no harm in hearing him out, right? Oh wait there is harm! The feeling of fucking rejection. Why does it feel like rejection? You don’t know. Why the fuck you care? You don’t know that either. But he’s fucking sulking, like a baby. You thought you were the baby here? You guess he needs to have a turn every now and then…

“fine.”

“You probably,” he sinks in the water just a little deeper, “hate me, right?” you don’t hate him…”Me, your friend, has had dirty thoughts about you, yada yada,” he closes his eyes.

“ wait what—” This is because he has had dirty thoughts about you?

“So about what I said…I’m sorry…”

“Taehyung it’s fine,” you rush to say in embarrassment, “I don’t know why I asked! Seriously, it was stupid. I crossed a li—”

“Wait why did you ask?” That’s when you freeze. Yeah why did you ask?

“Uh…”

“Why?” he stands up straighter, his head tilted towards you.

“I was just curious Taehyung.” you defend. “It’s not that deep.”

“Curious? About me?” he raises he brow, he pauses while thinking over his words. “Like, sexually?” he finishes, caution in his voice.

Fuck. What did you get yourself into?

“Taehyung…I already said it was stupid. Plus,” you decide to be bold again, “Hearing it was only because I’m the only one here or whatever didn’t do great things for my ego.”

“Wait—” you hear him stifle a chuckle. “That’s what you’re mad about?”

“Well…” you drag out the word with a pout. You don’t mean to be such a baby yet here you are.

“Wow! I thought you were mad because I’ve thought about you impurely, not because it wasn’t a good enough reason why…wow.” He laughs! He’s basically laughing at you!

“Well?”

“Oh my God, y/n. You’re joking right? I can’t just say I have the hots for my friend now can I? That’ll just—”

“Do you?” your voice is much smaller and quieter than you anticipated, like it barely escaped. Taehyung stays quiet for a second too long that it makes you ten times as nervous.

“Are you…” Taehyung looks at you with a look on his face you can’t quite place, “I’m naked in a pool with you right now and I am going crazy. Absolutely crazy.” Taehyung sighs out heavily, a frown taking over his face. “You’re ability to be so naïve just…baffles me.” He admits, defeated.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a beautiful girl y/n. Of course my mind has wandered. It doesn’t mean I—fuck. It doesn’t mean anything deep or anything like that. But yes, being with you and your fanfuckingtastic tits is giving me some trouble.” He says darkly. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed you checking me out either.” He smirks. “We are human.” He finishes.

A long, deafening silence accompanies you both. Its sitting in the water between your bodies. Just lingering, waiting for one of you to break it in half and drown it in this very pool. But no, it remains. And that person won’t be you. But several minutes have passed by and he is still fucking quiet. Maybe you should be the one to say something? You’re about to you swear , but you hear Taehyung grumble something under his breath.

“What’s that?” you say.

“I said, it’s only fair if I ask too.” Ask what? Oh. Wait. That?

“Ask what?” you ask, pretending you don’t know.

“You know what.”

“Nope.” you say, popping the ‘p’.

“y/n.” “I’m not answering that.”

“Come on.” He leans his face towards your neck, his breaths hitting your wet skin. “It’s only fair.”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” he pushes on. “Come on y/n, have you thought about me when you get yourself off or not?” he asks, his voice really low. How does he get his voice so deep? Fuck, it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Maybe once or twice I have thought about you too.” You admit, feeling a rush of adrenaline as the words leave your mouth.

“Once or twice?” he repeats lowly, “What did you think about?” his words crawl on the side of your neck as they leave his mouth.

“I’m not answering that.”

“I want you to tell me.” He sounds so breathless while being so demanding.

“Nope.”

“You’re no fun.” He chuckles. “Aren’t you curious about what I think about?”

“Not really.” You lie. “Don’t worry about my imagination. It’s the only action I’m getting anyway.” You laugh.

“When’s the last time you had sex y/n? Please tell me it wasn’t with your ex…”

“Yeah it was.” You admit and Taehyung pushes his head back, not liking you admission.

“Why haven’t you?” he asks.

“I felt so betrayed Taehyung…it’s sort of hard to trust anyone after that.” You sigh, “He hurt me bad. I’m…”

“You’re what?”

“I just don’t feel comfortable.” You say softly, “I don’t think I will for a while.”

“I see…I’m so sorry. I wish that didn’t happen to you.”

“It’s in the past now.”

Ben holds you close as he comes, his hands leaving behind their marks on your body from how tightly he holds you.

“Fuck yes.” He groans, “Did you come?” he asks quickly, breathing hard into your neck.

“It’s okay.” You sigh out, “As long as you feel good.”

“I felt amazing honey.” He kisses the side of your neck over and over. “Shit, we gotta get going. We’ll be late for work.”

“Do we really have to take separate cars?” you whine.

“Just for now babe.” He promises, lifting himself off your body, leaving your pussy aching for more.

“Okay…”

~

“He look so handsome today as usual…” you hear Layla talking to some of the other girls. “I’m telling you…he’s going to ask me out. He’s been eyeing me lately and complimenting me.” She gushes, catching your interest.

“Who?” you ask, setting your belongings down on your desk.

Layla turns to face you, waves her hand and smiles.

“Ben.”

Ben? Like your Ben? Her boss Ben?

“Ben who?” you blink at her and the other girls laugh.

“Obviously the only Ben we know!” Layla giggles and you feel your chest tighten.

“You think he’s going to ask you out?”

“Yes girl! He comes to my desk a few times day, calls me gorgeous, so on and so forth.” Layla says quietly so only you girls can hear. You feel your heart drop.

“I don’t think so.” You speak up. “Ben wouldn’t. He’s already seeing someone.”

“Oh really? Who?” Layla scrunches her brows together, “Because—”

“Me.” You blurt. “He and I are…”

The other girls stop their giggling and look at you with shocked eyes.

“There’s no way.” One of them says.

“y/n, are you serious?” Layla blushes, feeling a little embarrassed now.

“Yes, for months now.” you admit. “But we weren’t telling anyone…yet.”

“Wow! I can’t believe this!” another girl says, her hand coming to her mouth.

You then in a hush hush voice tell the group of girls yours and Bens story. You tell them how he pursued you, you finally agreed and how you two have been dating for over 6 months. They gush and gasp and giggle. It feels good to finally tell people, you think.

But unfortunately for you, it wasn’t good at all.

“y/n?” Taehyung knocks you out of your daze. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Fine.” You sigh, feeling weak. “I’m okay.”

Taehyung looks at you with pity, his eyes full of it. He stands tall and floats until he’s standing in front of you.

“I’m going to hug you.” He states calmly, “I really need to hug you.”

“Taehyung…” you step back until your back hits the ledge. “Now isn’t really appropriate.”

“I don’t care. I’ve already seen you naked.” He says nonchalantly. “C’mere.” He opens his arms wide for you and you shake your head.

“I said, c’mere.” He inches closer and closer. “Or I’m coming to you.”

“Taehyung.” You whine, but you let him get closer to you.

His wet arms reach out for you, he’s gripping your shoulders first before his hands easily slide down your arms until they’re under water holding on to your waist.

“C’mere.” He repeats. And you slowly inch closer towards him, your arms hesitantly circling around his middle. And then he’s pulling you in to his chest…he sighs when he feels your budding nipples graze his skin, he sighs when he feels the fullness of your breasts being pushed into him, he sighs when he feels you.

You release a long breath as you hug him, maybe you needed this. This type of human contact. You pull back and look up into Taehyung’s dark eyes, he’s already gazing at you.

“Thanks.” You mumble.

“I think of you because you’re cool. And really pretty.”

“Huh?” Why is Taehyung suddenly complimenting you?

“When I’m—you know. I think of you because you’re cool and really pretty. I could think of anyone ya know? That’s how an imagination works. But I still think about you.”

You’re sure your face is a dark crimson, with how hard you are blushing. How are you supposed to take this new information?

“W-Well,” You find it hard to look into his eyes. “I guess, same.”

“Because I’m pretty?” his tone is lighter all the sudden, you roll your eyes.

“What do you think? Timer should be going on any minute now.” Taehyung throws a glance over his shoulder towards the timer.

“Hmm…” You turn, reaching for the timer, your wet hands getting ahold of it. “Less than 5 minutes.” You read it.

“Oh.” He sings, “If you have a secret, share it now!” Taehyung chuckles into the water, his lips creating bubbles on the surface.

“You want to know even more about me?” You stand a little taller, the water reaching the tops of your breasts. You see Taehyung’s eyes linger for a second before meeting your eyes again. “If you wanna know anything, just ask.” You reach your arms over your head, releasing a yawn.

“Okay…” He places his fingers on his chin, “It’s about me though.” He stops, his fingers dragging down his neck. “Ah, never mind.”

“What?”

“No, it’s weird.”

“Aren’t we passed weird?” you giggle.

“No, it’s really weird.” He sighs out, sinking down into the water until his head is fully under.

You watch as he rises back up, the water cascading down his golden skin, the water from his hair dripping onto his shoulders.

A few moments pass, Taehyung stands here thinking to himself while you just shamelessly watch. You watch as he chews on the inside of his cheek, his eyes upward, scanning the stars. He hums some tune to himself, deep in thought. Honestly, you love when he does this. He looks so…good. Not in a sexual way, you swear. He just looks so him. So Taehyung. He goes from chewing on his cheek to his bottom lip, his teeth digging into the plump flesh. You gulp, God he has no idea how good he looks like this.

“Well?” You ask impatiently. Trying to wave away any more of those thoughts you were just having.

Taehyung releases his bottom lip from his teeth as his lips form into a pout, his eyes closing.

“I’m thinking…”

“Less thinking, more asking.” You feel way too curious about whatever it is he wants to say. And the minutes are passing you by.

Taehyung opens one eye to look at you, he exhales, and faces you.

“Does it sound like I’m in love with Hana?” he says quietly.

“W-What? You’ve only really brought her up once…”

“But when I talked about her did it seem like I have deep feelings for her?”

“She thinks I only like the idea of her” Taehyung mumbles to Jimin and Namjoon. “She doesn’t think I like her as much as I say? Which is so stupid!”

“Isn’t she right though?” Jimin asks with a frown, “You only ever talk about how pretty she is…”

“Jimin means you don’t really have that much in common with her, do you?” Namjoon questions softly. “You don’t…you don’t seem as into as you have been in the past. Are you sure you actually like her?”

Taehyung stares at his friends in disbelief, not believing his ears for one second.

“What are you guys talking about? I fucking like her.” He grits out.

“Are you sure you aren’t just lonely—”

“I don’t want to hear this.” Taehyung stands up from the couch, “I’m going to go see her.”

~

Taehyung makes it to Hana’s apartment but her roommate answers the door and frowns when she sees Taehyung,

“Yes?”

“Uh, I’m here to see Hana.” He gestures inside the apartment.

“Right…” the roommate stands off to the side and lets Taehyung in. “She’s in her room.”

Taehyung walks through the apartment and down the hall until he’s knocking on Hana’s door. She opens it quickly, hugging him and pulling him inside.

“Hey you.” She smiles at Taehyung and he smiles back with his teeth.

“Hi.”

“What brings you here?”

“Just came to hang out, maybe watch a movie?” Taehyung sways from side to side, trying to not make this awkward.

“Sure, you can choose the movie.” She goes to her desk, grabs her lap top and gestures towards her bed. “We can watch in my bed.” She says shyly.

“G-Good idea.”

~

“So how did you like it?” Taehyung asks excitedly. ‘Castaway on the Moon’ just finished and he is so happy he got to show her his favorite movie.

“Honestly?” she chuckles awkwardly, “I didn’t really like it.” She admits. “it was weird.”

“It’s not weird! It’s amazing,” he pouts and she giggles.

He does feel really disappointed that she doesn’t like his favorite movie…is that a red flag? No, he’s just being dramatic, he thinks.

“Next time I’ll choose the movie.” Hana cuddles closer to Taehyung. “Okay?”

“Sure.”

“Taehyung…” you begin, “Where is this coming from?”

“She doesn’t think—my friends too—don’t think we have a lot of chemistry. That I’m forcing myself to like her, but that’s not true! But sometimes I feel confused. And I thought I could get an outside opinion.” He admits, “But this was stupid you don’t have to answer.”

You can tell him you believe in his feelings or you can tell him you don’t think he’s even talked about her enough that you take his feelings seriously. But will that hurt him?

“I—”

Beep beep beep beep beep beep.

The fire place is turned on, creating a safe and cozy atmosphere. The gas lit flames burn a hole in the tension that fills the room. What sort of tension? Not sure.

Taehyung and you are sat comfortably on the sofa, sitting with crossed legs facing one another, your knees just barely touching. A bowl of popcorn rests between you and blankets wrapped around your bodies. Separate blankets, of course.

Taehyung and you have decided to move the party inside (with clothes: on) and continue talking.

The ringing of the timer didn’t completely ruin your conversation only delaying it.

“And I don’t know,” he takes a handful of popcorn and stuffs it in his mouth. “I think we would make a cute couple.”

“Yeah but like I asked, what sorts of things do you two talk about? Not if you guys are a cute couple.”

“We talk.” He states.

“Okay…about?”

“Stuff.”

“You aren’t helping your case.” You sigh out, biting your lip. “I want to believe in your feelings Taehyung but…”

“I know.” He cuts you off, “I know.”

“So why are you forcing it?” you reach for some popcorn yourself, “Why do you want to like her so bad?”

“I don’t know….” He admits softly, “I really don’t know.”

“You’re unsure of your feelings.” You say bluntly. “That’s what it seems like.”

“Maybe I am.” He wraps the blanket around his shoulders tighter. “I’m like you…I don’t know what love is.”

“And just like me, you’ll find it someday.” You promise him with a sweet smile. “Right?”

“You will for sure.” He breathes out, “I think I’m a ….”

“A?”

“God, I don’t even want to say it.” He throws his head in his hands. “But I think I am a hopeless romantic.”

“I just want some cute love story with a cute girl. And Hana is perfect.”

“But does she thrill you? Challenge you? Make you laugh?”

“She’s…” fuck, he doesn’t even know. Does he even know Hana that well?

“Hey y/n…” Taehyung looks up at you, his eyes finding yours and you shrink in your spot.

“Yes?”

“Can we watch my favorite movie? I’m curious what you might think about it.” He gazes at you and you nod your head slowly.

“Sure Taehyung.”

“Also, you can call me Tae.”

~

“Holy fuck.” You sob into your hands. “The fucking noodles.”

Taehyung looks over at you with a soft smile as he has his own tears falling down his face.

“I know right?”

“He finally felt like he had purpose Tae,” you look at him with a pathetic scrunched up face, tears still leaving your eyes.

“EXACTLY!” Taehyung wails, “EXACTLY!”

“This movie was amazing, and how everything turned out...wow…and how she…and he…my goodness. I’m still crying.”

“I told you!! I am so glad you enjoyed it.” He moves closer to you on the sofa without thinking.

“Only lame people wouldn’t like this movie!” you basically yell out and Taehyung scoots even closer, his shoulder bumping yours. But you barely notice, still too invested in the movie.

“Yeah.” He agrees with a smile. “You really must be my soulmate.” He jokes with an awkward smile. “No one else really likes this movie.”

“Ha-Ha.” You roll your eyes, “But anyway, that’s crazy since it was so good.”

“Stop praising it or I’ll have to marry you.” He jokes again and you start turning a rosy pink.

“Stop.” You whine, swatting his shoulder.

“Let’s call it a night, yeah?”

You and Taehyung clean up the kitchen and living room and head upstairs for the night, he walks you to your bedroom door and lingers.

“Tonight was crazy. I saw you naked.” He brings up the request and you go redder than red.

“We can literally never talk about it again…”

“Am I allowed to think about it at least?” he winks, his voice low and making you feel tense.

“Goodnight Taehyung.”

~~~~~~~~

Month 6

Today is one of those days…Taehyung is in a bad mood and you’re being a brat. He hates how much you’ve been teasing him today…he is sorting through his feelings for Hana but you insist on walking around with small shorts and low cut tank tops, claiming it’s ‘hot’. He finally has you cornered though, he’s finally had enough. He’s got you pushed up against a wall, his face so close that your breaths mingle with one another.

“You’re really pushing me today…” Taehyung leans closer, his warm breath fanning over your face. “Today’s not the day y/n.” he warns.

“How am I pushing you? I’m literally not doing anything.” You jut your bottom lip out and look to the side.

“You’re being…such a fucking tease.” He decides to say, “Which is giving me a real headache.” He leans down, his arms on either side of your body.

“So I give you a headache?” Your eyes look up into his and you smirk. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“You are real annoying, you know that?” he can’t help but chuckle, but then he’s exhaling a deep breath and rolling his eyes. “Ask for forgiveness.”

“Ask for forgiveness?” you scoff. “Seriously? And what am I asking forgiveness for?”

“You’re lucky I’m not telling you to beg.”

“Beg?” you scoff again. “Who do you think you—”

“y/n.” his dark eyes gaze into yours. His hand slides down the wall and then it’s at your waist. He pulls you in and leans his head down closer to your face, you feel the lump in your throat grow as you ty to swallow it down.

“Y-Yes?”

“Ask for forgiveness.” He tells you again, this time much more softly.

“And if I don’t?” You stare up at him and he chuckles.

“Do you really want to find out?” his gaze doesn’t waver as he looks at you…the way he stares at you makes you feel bare in front of him, like he’s stripping you of your clothes, of your skin, everything.

“And if I do?” you whisper. “What happens if I do?”

Taehyung narrows his eyes at you as he licks his lips repeatedly…you’re really testing him aren’t you? He can’t tell if you’re toying with him because of the cameras or if it’s because you’re a brat.

“y/n.” he says your name like the sound of a slow breath. It feels intimate, the way he calls out for you. You can’t help but gulp as you blink up at him.

“Y-Yes?”

“You want to beg, don’t you?” he smirks, he pokes his tongue out as he eyes you. You can see the amusement in his eyes. “You want to…” the words are dying on his tongue because what can he say? Everything he wants to say would probably be deemed as inappropriate.

“I want to what?” you tilt your head up, your eyes scanning the entirety of his face and he leans further into your space.

“Just do as I say, tell me you’re sorry and we can move on.”

“Do as you say?” you lean back until your head is lightly hitting the wall, “You think I would really listen to you?”

“Such a brat.” His hand doesn’t let go of your waist as he leans back as well. “Why do I deal with this? And yes,” he rolls his head back. “I think you would very much enjoy listening to me.” He pauses and bites his lip. “If this company really thinks we’re a match made in heaven then I am sure you can assume what I mean.”

You silently gasp, a blush painting itself brightly on your cheeks.

“Ah,” he leans in again, “So you do know what I mean.”

“Taehyung,” you mumble, “Sometimes your flirting for the camera is too much.” You whisper quiet enough the cameras can’t hear.

Taehyung leans down until his mouth is at the shell of your ear and you can hear the smirk.

“Who says it’s for the cameras?” he leans away from you again, he finally drops his hand from your waist and is about to turn to leave when your hand flies to his shirt.

“Wait.” You blurt out, “I’ll…” you look off to the side. “I’ll say sorry”

“Oh?” Taehyung looks amused to say the least, “Go ahead, then.”

“Only if you tell me what’s wrong today.”

“It’s nothing.”

Your hand goes from the middle of his shirt to his shoulder and you look up at him with big, doe eyes as he blinks down at you over and over.

“What?” he whispers.

“Please.” You whisper back, “I’ll be good,” you promise in a low voice.

Taehyung feels his chest get warm, the heat traveling from there to his toes. He looks at you with his serious expression and softens.

“You are good.” He breathes out. His gaze intense as he stares into your eyes.

“Then…” you pause. Taehyung keeps his eyes on your eyes until he’s not. His eyes slowly travel down your face until he’s staring at your lips. He notices how plump they look, how your tongue darts out to wet them. He feels himself being drawn closer to you, leaning in further and further.

“…Taehyung.” You say breathlessly and Taehyung blinks repeatedly, clearing his throat as he leans back again.

“Fine, don’t apologize. Brat.” And he’s stepping away from you and you watch his back as he walks away.

Taehyung. Is. Such. A. tease. And it drives you absolutely insane. You’re sure the company that watches you is having the times of their lives as you suffer. Why does he have to go this far? It only makes you want to challenge him and go even further yourself. There was a moment, right? Where he acted like he was going to kiss you? Of course he wouldn’t actually do that. This is just for show but god, it still drives you nuts.

Taehyung rushes to his bedroom, slamming the door shut as he rests against it. What the hell is wrong with him? He’s just frustrated. He misses Hana. But why do you have to be so infuriating and you know, hot. And it makes him angry. He wasn’t actually going to kiss you, of course. But there was a moment of strange tension that he…he can’t describe. Taehyung slides down the door, falling to the ground. He remembers his first kiss with Hana, it was sweet and nice but like, he doesn’t remember it being intense not like how it feels when he gets close to you.

“Taehyung!” Hana giggles as she pats his back as she’s thrown over his shoulder. “Put me down!”

“Never!” Taehyung laughs just as much as he runs around in circles. “Ugh, so heavy though.” He jokes.

“Hey!” Hana hits his back, “Come on, put me down.” Her giggles softly relax and he’s setting her down back on the ground, her feet finally planted on the ground as she keeps her arms loosely thrown around his neck.

“You really love carrying me.”

“Holding you is fun.” He smiles, “And you’re not actually heavy. Actually you weigh nothing.”

“Yeah, right.” She playfully rolls her eyes.

“So.” Taehyung chuckles awkwardly, looking into Hana’s eyes.

“So…” she steps closer to him, tightening her hold around her neck. “We’ve been hanging out a lot …” she flutters her lashes, “And..”

“And?”

“I kind of want you to kiss me.”

“Oh.” Taehyung’s eyes widen. He was not expecting that. He smiles at her and nods his head. “Yeah, I can do that.” He teases, leaning in until his lips are against hers. He pulls back but she pushes herself forward to kiss him more and he sighs in her mouth, loving the feel of her lips.

“We should do that more often.” Taehyung breathes out and Hana giggles.

Taehyung groans into his hands, recalling his memories. He does miss Hana but he feels like every time he thinks of her…he somehow is also thinking about you too. But it’s not like he’s thinking of you like that but yeah, you’re on his mind. And he’s got to chill out. He stands up from the floor and walks to his bed, throwing himself on it with a bounce. He’s still so frustrated. He recalls dinner yesterday, how he…

“I’m staring at you because you have sauce on your lips.” Taehyung says from across the dining room table.

“Should I get it for you?” he teases, standing up from his chair, the sound of it screeching against the floor makes you flinch.

“No, no.” you shake your head, “I can do it myself.”

“What if I want to help you though?” Taehyung tilts his head with innocent eyes. “I’ll clean you up.”

“Tae—”

Taehyung walks to your side of the table and bends down until his face is level with your face, he smiles at you and raises his thumb up to your lips. His thumb brushes across your bottom lip slowly, the heat of his finger making you sigh out. He leans in closer as he finishes wiping the sauce off your mouth. When he finishes he takes a moment to look into your eyes like he’s searching them for something. He’s not sure what though. You feel yourself being hypnotized by his gaze, you, yourself stare back at him just as deeply…you think he’s going to lean away any second but instead he brings his hand between your faces and brings his thumb to his mouth. His thumb pushes past his lips and he’s licking it clean, the action purposely agonizingly slow.

“There. Got it.” He breathes out, “All clean.”

Your eyes widen just the slightest…he’s a tease. A fucking tease.

Taehyung’s eyes light up in amusement when he watches how you flush under his hard stare and he starts laughing.

“W-What?” you spit out, your embarrassment has you stabbing your food with your fork. “What’s funny?”

“You.” He says with a grin, the air is starting to thin out as he laughs. “You make me laugh.”

“Glad I can entertain.” You roll your eyes.

You’re so…fuck, you’re so sexy. Taehyung has been wanting to admit that for a while, but god, he has to really fucking control himself. But he’s trying to keep these thoughts at bay because he needs to figure out what he’s doing about Hana.

He lays here thinking of all the moments he has flirted with you for the camera, he groans into his pillow when he has the hardest realization. Is it really for the camera? The tension between you two is so fucking thick, the air is suffocating, making it hard to breathe. The intensity…the thrill. You are the only one who makes him feel like his world is burning with a passionate fire. Hana is nice but you? You’re you and he’s realizing how much he likes that.

He’s realizing a lot. It’s been 6 months and he thinks he is ready to admit that this is beyond what he signed up for. He signed on to get along, but this? This is a whole other journey he’s going on.

Taehyung sits up in bed, his face gone pale as he makes his realizations. His mouth hangs open as his mind races. Does Taehyung just want to fuck you? Or….does Taehyung like you?

Suddenly, there’s soft knocking on his bedroom door, his head snaps in that direction and he knows it’s you—well duh, who else would it be? He scrambles off the bed and he’s opening the door. You’re wearing yoga pants and a long sleeve shirt now with an innocent smile on your face.

“I turned the AC down.” You say. “Now I won’t make your life hard by wearing hardly any clothes.” You’re teasing him and he’s going wild for it.

“Oh really?” he breathes out, “Are you going to say sorry?” he teases back, his breathing picking up.

“Should I ask for forgiveness?” you mock him and he raises a brow at you.

“I’m going to make you beg y/n.” he says lowly, “Keep this up and I’ll be carrying you to the other bedroom.”

Your smile drops at his words. What does he mean by that? He’s taking the acting too far…

“You ever begged before baby?” He walks closer to you, making you uneasy. You step backward further into the hall and sigh out.

“Maybe.”

“From now on, you’ll only ever do it for me.” He says so low, that you barely hear him. But you do hear him and you shudder.

“Taehyung.” You warn softly, you push him by the shoulders, backing him into his bedroom. Once inside you close the door and look at him expectantly.

“What?” he rolls his eyes at you.

“You’re being too much…” you whisper. “But fuck, I gotta admit you’re good.” You breathe out roughly, “It almost feels real.”

“I wasn’t kidding earlier.” Taehyung walks towards you, his hand reaching out to touch the ends of you hair, “Who says this is for the cameras?”

You glance up at him, clearly confused.

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh y/n.” Taehyung feels his heart start to race. “This just got a lot more interesting.”

[salamanderskin]

4, 14 and 25 for Ed and Frank please please please

Thanks so much for asking lovely <3 These are my OCs from the 1940s Cabaret series. More on them can be found in my fic archive and here.

"It's getting late early," Frank Westmore declares, squinting up at the darkening sky. He leans on the wall outside the backstage door and rolls a cigarette. He's actually steaming, his breath coming in clouds with beads of perspiration on his brow from the energetic cabaret number he's just run through three times from the top. 

"What does that even mean?" His boyfriend Edward laughs, rolls his eyes, leans in for the warmth of him. 

"What it says. Nights are drawing in. Be Christmas before you know it."

"Don't." Edward groans. "But yes, it is chilly."

Edward draws his coat around him with a shiver. There's a bitter edge to the little wind that whistles through the alleyway. It makes his nose drip and forces him to swallow against a hot, tender-feeling throat. He's about to say something more, but the subtle -snf-SNF- he hopes might clear his nose crests into a stuffy, ticklish feeling that just won't back down. He quickly has to sneeze, which he deals with in the usual fashion, with an almost-silent dip of his head towards his wrist. 

Frank doesn't even notice but finishes his fag and arches his back until his shoulders crack. He sweeps his hair back into submission and tilts his head at Edward. 

"Rehearsal's over. Pub?" 

"Sure." Edward agrees. 

So they gather their things, Frank changes his shirt and shoes and bids goodbye to the half of the cast who have the good sense to go home. Edward falls in with the gaggle making their way down the street to the pub. 

He has to keep pausing to blow his nose, or cough into his fist to try and scratch the itch developing at the top of his lungs. He's probably getting ill; everyone else in the theatre is at this time of year. A cold pint might not be the wisest thing in the world if he's getting sick but it would do wonders for his throat. The walk passes in a blur, his mind wandering far from the leaf-strewn pavement.

The next moment he has to sneeze. Pinching his nose shut and bobbing his head forward results in a repressed, "nxxxkt " that hurts his throat, while the force makes him stumble over an uneven paving slab. Frank's perennially quick reflexes mean an elbow is there to catch him without the dancer breaking his stride. It jars them both but Frank sets them back in step in no time, a motion as smooth as any choreographer could hope for.

"Tired?" He says, and offers a kiss to Eddie's cheek to show he doesn't mean anything by it. "Bless you!" He adds, when Eddie pinches his nose shut and bobs his head forward again.

…..

Inside the pub it isn't much warmer. Edward is happy to take the corner seat in a booth and have Frank lounge against him, providing both warmth and unspoken comfort even as he talks and flirts with the rest of the group. Edward is content to sit quietly and nurse his pint, taking sips to cool his throat. 

His nose is running steadily now, sending a ticklish sensation down the back of his sinuses every time he sniffles. Edward turns away to the walls of the booth and folds his handkerchief in one hand. With it cupped neatly over his nose he shudders a pair of sneezes that make his whole body knot.

"Bless you," Frank says beside him, stroking his thigh idly as he continues the conversation.

The touch is nice but Edward still has to "--Hupt-nntx! ---ntx!"

"Bless you." 

He tries to take a breath, tries desperately to stop, goddamnit, but only manages another run of "hh- hgxxt! --gxxt!", a pause and a shallow sigh where he hopes he might be done, then another pair so harsh that the glasses on the table shudder and clink. 

"Sweetheart, bless you!" Frank's voice has that soft edge to it which makes Edward want to lay his head on Frank's lap, regardless of company. The thought makes him blush and stutter as he explains, "Sorry. I think I'm coming down with something," to the group at large. 

"You don't say." 

Frank gives him a gentle shove which turns into an arm around his waist.

"That's nice and warm." 

"You’re cold?" Frank gives Edward his big serious eyes, all chocolate brown in the low light. "You should have said something. Here-" He fishes out his scarf and passes it around his boyfriend's neck. "Better now?"

"Yeah. Thanks." The scarf helps a lot, though the attention maybe helps more. Frank returns to the group conversation but sits closer and twines their fingers together under the table. Edward thinks he can feel the heat seeping up his arm and into his bones. It doesn't do much for the sniffles, however. His nose is starting to get properly stuffed-up in a way that sets him sneezing every ten minutes or so. It's more difficult to hold them back, too. With each pair of sneezes he ducks a little lower and Frank's eyebrows raise a little more.

"What are you st-aa-ring at-" he manages, then immediately loses his breath for a chaotic "hupt-gxxxt!-gxxt!" 

That last set takes a lot out of him; raising his head afterwards is like surfacing from underwater. He blinks groggily, aware he must look a state. 

"Frankie, take your man home before he infects the lot of us." Someone says, teasing, but not unkind. 

When he hears it spoken, Edward realises he does really, really want to go home. He's bone tired, his head hurts and his throat is sore in a way that makes him desperate for something to drink, but the rest of his bitter doesn't appeal at all. 

"Can we?" He asks Frank in an undertone.

"It's time we were heading out anyway." Frank declares at full volume. He sets his empty glass theatrically down on the table, shrugs at Eddie and downs the rest of his pint too before adding, "not because anyone's making us, mind," 

It takes a few moments to gather their coats and for the group to inform Edward that no one wants to see him at work tomorrow if he looks as rough as he does now. It's nice, feeling part of the group.

Out on the street, the lamps are lit and a little drizzle is beginning to fall. The two men pull their hats down low against the damp and begin the short walk back to Frank's flat. Edward coughs and sees his breath billow towards the orange light. It catches in his throat and once he starts coughing it's hard to stop. 

"I'd murder someone for a cup of tea." He says, when he has his breath back.

"I always knew that was a risk." Frankie nods. "Cut down in my prime for standing in the way of the kettle." He squeezes Edwards hand and quickens their step. "Come on. Tea in bed for you, I think. Sound good?" 

"That sounds wonderful."

[writingithink]

Tangled Timelines Chapter 3 Rated: T Chapter Word Count: 5,010 Chapter Summary: The Doctor and Rose try to track down some ghosts. Notes: Hey look! It's an update!! Hopefully they'll be happening more regularly now. I'm semi doing NaNoWriMo, and by that I mean that I'm attempting to write 50,000 words this month spread across any project (including this one). I'm starting to find my groove with this fic, so *fingers crossed*

As always, many hugs and thanks for @hey-there-juliet , my lovely beta. && all mistakes are mine.

READ IT ON AO3 [copy/paste link]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26686090/chapters/67268401

<-- Ch2

Ch 4 -->

As soon as he entered his ship, the Doctor collapsed onto the jumpseat and stared blankly at the time rotor for a few moments. And then he glared at it.

“I somehow manage to happen upon the exact coordinates for the beginning of an invasion, and for some reason you’ve put me smack dab in the middle of it?!”

The answering hum was … frustrated.

He furrowed his brows, frowning. It would be exceedingly bad, incredibly bad, astonishingly bad bad bad if something else was influencing the TARDIS. The Doctor sprang to his feet and immediately sonicked open the grating, taking a moment to place a temporary barrier around his panic before he could worry Rose.

Back at the flat, she was having tea with her mother. She’d only just managed to get Jackie to stop complaining about his apparent need to ‘make everything about aliens’, and they were now talking about the wedding. Apparently she’d found a baker who said they’d make up cake samples that all somehow incorporated bananas. Best news he’d heard (well, technically) all day, and he couldn’t properly appreciate the sentiment when he desperately needed to check his ship and parse out exactly what he was going to do about these ‘ghosts’.

First things first, he needed to make sure that the TARDIS was physically fine. That she was healthy. And actually, it wasn’t so bad. There were some minor repairs he should take care of before they next left Earth, but nothing he couldn’t leave until after they’d saved the planet. The Doctor pulled himself out from under the console and bounced over to the navigational matrix, pulling a screen with him as he went.

His mouth dropped as he looked at the recording of their last flight path. A time track seemed to just- just pop into existence, pushing them months away. His ship had immediately landed due to the unexpected error. It literally looked like a glitch in the Vortex - but there were no such thing as glitches in the Time Vortex. A whole dimension doesn’t glitch - not without some outside force acting on it.

And any outside force meddling with time was even more dangerous than whatever these ‘ghosts’ were.

One bloody thing at a time, though.

The Doctor pushed himself away from the console and began pacing.

Ghosts ghosts ghosts ghosts ghosts.

Not really ghosts. Getting stronger from the psychic energy of the entire human race. Incredibly unpleasant when one walks through you - really do feel dead. Worse than dead. Likely nothing good, and all over the world.

But they appear in shifts. There’s shifts.

So someone had to be in charge of that. Probably multiple someones. But still, there would be a central location connected to them, giving them whatever help they need to press themselves onto the Earth from wherever they really are. To do that, all around the world, they would have to have an incredibly strong signal.

An incredibly strong, traceable signal.

“Alright then!”

Headfirst into danger was just what it was going to have to be.

The Doctor sonicked open a different panel and began rummaging around for the equipment he’d need. It wasn’t long before he heard the TARDIS' door open.

“According to the paper,” his wife announced, “they’ve elected a ghost as MP for Leeds. Now tell me about this plan you’re tryin’ so hard to keep secret.”

He popped out of the grating with a backpack full of equipment.

“Who you gonna call?” he joked.

“Ghostbusters!” Rose laughed, more amused by the voice he was using than his shockingly similar looking technology.

“I ain’t afraid of no ghosts,” the Doctor finished with a little jig before dashing out of the TARDIS.

“My mum’s on her way down,” she informed him as he looked around the playground for the best area to set up the cones. Actually, should do nicely right where they were.

“Oh?” He turned on his heel and went back into their ship, pleased that she’d seen fit to set out the rest of the equipment they would need. “Let’s get these outside.”

“Doctor,” his bondmate huffed, even as she took a cone. I don’t think we should tell her yet. About the lifespan thing. Not until after we’ve gotten rid of the ghosts. Like, way after. Next trip back.

That’s fine, he agreed as he sat down his roll of wire and cone and began plugging everything in.

“We’ll still have to stay for awhile, though. Because we said we would.”

The Doctor paused what he was doing, dramatically raising his eyes skyward. It was quite a nice day, really. You’d think, with London having nice weather for once, that he’d be able to enjoy it. He opened his mouth, planning to vocalize his many complaints, but as soon as he turned back towards Rose, he saw Jackie walking up.

After the ghosts, yes. Sometime during this trip, though, please . 

He wasn’t ashamed to beg. Well … a little ashamed.

“Why’d you park all the way over here?” Jackie asked as he began plugging the wires into the cone Rose had placed.

“Got tired of the alley. Bit dingy,” he quipped. It was a lie, but better than telling his mother-in-law that not only had the flight gone wrong time-wise, but also slightly by location.

His wife shot him a worried look as she caught the thought.

Later, he promised, rushing back into the TARDIS for the final cone. He would worry about all of that later - they had important things to do.

“When’s the next shift?” he asked as he sat the cone down.

“Quarter to,” Jackie answered, “but don’t go causing trouble. What’s that lot do?”

“Triangulates their point of origin.”

“I don’t suppose it’s the Gelth?” Rose asked, visions of their spectral forms playing across their bond for a moment.

“Nah,” the Doctor responded, and she quickly shrugged off the idea. “They were just coming through one little rift. This lot are transposing themselves over the whole planet. Like tracing paper.”

With the final cone plugged in, he ran over to make sure they were all in the proper position.

“You’re always doing this,” Jackie complained. “Reducing it to science. Why can’t it be real? Just think of it, though. All the people we’ve lost. Our families coming back home. Don’t you think it’s beautiful?”

He paused to give his mother-in-law an honest answer. 

“I think it’s horrific.” 

And then the Doctor bounced back into motion, unrolling the cable that would connect the triangulation devices to the TARDIS console. They were on a time crunch, after all. “Rose, give us a hand, love.”

His bondmate sighed before following him into the ship.

She’s so upset.

The Doctor remained silent, aware that the thought wasn’t really meant for him and even more aware that there wasn’t anything he could say that would help. He plugged in the cable and turned to Rose, aware that her mother had followed them inside. This is how they could help.

“As soon as the cones activate,” he explained quickly, pointing to the monitor, “if that line goes red, press that button there. If it doesn’t stop,” he continued, reaching into his jacket to pull out the sonic screwdriver, “setting 15-B. Hold it against the port, eight seconds and stop.”

“15-B, eight seconds,” she confirmed.

“If it goes into the blue, activate the deep scan on the left.”

“Uhm … oh!” His wife leaned over the console, which he found much more provocative than the situation really called for. “This button there?”

“Hmm close.”

And he’d really, sincerely intended to send her a mental image of the correct button, but some wires must have gotten crossed there. Instead what he sent was a memory of their return to the TARDIS right after the Rhibelini festival. Eh. Oops?

“That one?” Rose smirked, pointing to another button that was definitely not close, while sending some very, uhm, creative suggestions that, unfortunately, weren’t actually feasible.

“Eehh, now you’ve just killed us,” the Doctor told her with a theatrical grimace.

With the button, or- ?

They both laughed, but only for a moment.

“Er, that one.” She confidently pointed to the correct button, telepathically informing him that she knew the whole time.

“Yeah!” he smiled before turning to Jackie. “Now, what’ve we got? Two minutes to go?”

Jackie looked down at her watch, and the Doctor was glad that she didn’t realize that he was just trying to make her feel needed. That he was a Time Lord and didn’t need her help to check the time. Because his wife had to be right - there’s no way her mum actually enjoys the act of doing laundry. She enjoys being a mum.

You like her, Rose teased over the bond.

Shush.

He gave her a peck on the cheek before exiting the ship to do the final prep work on the triangulation cones. It was go time. The Doctor raced around, calibrating each one.

“What’s the line doing?” he shouted through the door.

“It’s alright,” came his wife’s answering shout, though she really didn’t need to with his superior hearing. She could whisper and he’d be able to hear her from this short of a distance. “It’s holding!”

“You even look like him,” Jackie said to Rose, and he could hear her just fine. Not that he understood what that was supposed to mean.

“How do you mean? I suppose I do, yeah,” his wife responded, sounding pleased, though he still didn’t know what it meant. Rose didn’t look at all like him. What a strange thing to say. He tried to refocus on the triangulation equipment.

“You’ve changed so much,” Jackie sighed. “All grown up and married to an alien, living in a spaceship.”

The Doctor almost said something to Rose about her mother acknowledging that they were, in fact, already married, but then caught himself. If she didn’t already know that he was eavesdropping, no need to make it obvious. Not that it would matter either way. He wasn’t going to stuff cotton in his ears just because the humans in his life couldn’t be bothered to remember all of his biological differences.

“For the better,” his wife replied with confidence. “We have an amazing life, and we’re in love.”

“I suppose. It’s just barmy. Seeing you two like this in this box of his. Makes it hard to pretend everything’s even a little normal.”

He wondered what exactly Jackie imagined their life was like when they weren’t around. Things had actually gotten shockingly domestic lately, though it would still probably be too alien for his mother-in-law.

“Mum, I used to work in a shop.”

“I’ve worked in shops. What’s wrong with that?”

“No, I didn’t mean that,” Rose sighed.

Once again the Doctor made himself refocus on the task at hand, all the while hoping that they weren’t about to have a row.

“I know what you meant. What happens when I’m gone?”

“Don’t talk like that,” Rose ordered, distress flooding their connection, making it nearly impossible for him to pay attention to the cones.

How exactly was he supposed to save the Earth with these working conditions?

There was a smug voice in his head, with a distinct Northern accent, very pleased to point out how they were right about avoiding domestics.

“No, but really. When I’m dead and buried, you won’t have any reason to come back home. What happens then?” Jackie asked her.

“I don’t know,” Rose mumbled, as she tried and failed to imagine their future life without her mother in it.

The Doctor frowned, realizing that he couldn’t quite picture it either.

“Do you think you’ll ever settle down?” her mother continued.

Their connection was now awash with all sorts of negative emotions, and he could tell that his bondmate was near tears, which was completely unacceptable. He turned away from the cones, ready to march back on board before stopping himself.

“The Doctor never will, so I can’t,” Rose told her. “Wouldn’t want to. We’ll just keep traveling.”

“And you’ll keep on changing. And in forty years time, fifty, there’ll be this woman, this strange woman, walking through the marketplace on some planet a billion miles from Earth. But she’s not Rose Tyler. Not anymore. She’s not even human.”

Their bond somehow managed to pulse mauve.

It’s going to be okay, love, he tried to comfort her, fighting to send soothing, positive thoughts over their connection just as he finished up the calibrations. A distraction, that’s what she needed! It was certainly what he needed.

“Here we go!” he shouted.

“The scanner’s working!” Rose called out. “It says Delta-One-Six!”

“Come on then, you beauty!” the Doctor laughed, firmly resolved on drowning out all of the pain present in their shared mental space with adrenaline fueled glee. After all, he had always wanted to use these cones - they were state of the art!

He watched with wide eyes as the cones connected, immediately trapping one of the so-called ‘ghosts’ within their quasi-electric field. And then he reached into his pocket, carefully blocking their bond as he pulled out and put on a pair of 3D glasses - this was the part of his speculations that he really would rather not worry his bondmate with. At least, not yet. Not until he absolutely had to.

The ghost … thing he’d just trapped was absolutely riddled with Void particles. Completely covered, blurry head to blurry toe. Blimey.

The Doctor knelt down, adjusting the controls in order to get a more accurate read. If he was lucky, he would be able to figure out which parallel world these creatures were trying to come from. Likely a parallel Earth, but which one?

It began writhing, though nothing about the triangulation device should cause a living thing pain.

“Don’t like that much, do you?” he couldn’t help commenting. “Who are you? Where are you coming from? Woah!” He jumped back as the ‘ghost’ attempted to break out of the containment field. “That’s more like it! Not so friendly now, are you?”

He looked on as the creature faded away and the cones deactivated. While some more time would have been helpful, the Doctor had enough information to get started. After quickly picking up all of the cones, he ran back inside. Once he’d dumped them all out of the way, he raced up to the console, shrugging out of his coat and tossing it onto the railing.

“I said so!” he exclaimed. “Those ghosts have been forced into existence from one specific point, and I can track down the source. Allons-y!”

With that, he slammed the dematerialization lever, the coordinates having been inputted by the triangulation device. So handy! Finally got to use it.

The TARDIS shook violently.

Well, maybe he could make some improvements ... if he ever got the chance to use it again. The Doctor sprung to his feet and stabilized the flight.

Things seemed abnormally silent in the console room and over their bond. He was uncertain as to why, but still gave over to his natural inclination to fill the silence.

“I like that,” he told his wife as he moved around the console. “Allons-y. I should say allons-y more often. Allons-y. Watch out, Rose Tyler. Allons-y. And then, it would be really brilliant if I met someone called Alonso, because then I could say, ‘Allons-y Alonso’ every time.” He finally reached Rose and wrapped his arms around her before pausing. “You’re staring at me.”

“My mum’s still on board,” she whispered, squeezing his arms.

The Doctor looked up to see Jackie Tyler sitting on one of the platforms.

It was terrifying.

“If we end up on Mars, I’m going to kill you.”

Absolutely, bone-chillingly terrifying.

Stop being a drama queen, his bondmate chastised.

Oh, the domestics of it all! Worse than living in a house! Traveling with his mother-in-law?!

You’ll be fine, it’s hardly traveling . We’re in the same city, in the same time, Rose reassured him, rolling her eyes before giving him a proper hug.

What was he supposed to do now, though?! Bring Jackie with them? Leave her in the TARDIS? It would likely be dangerous wherever they ended up, invasion and all. The alternative was having her stay in their home to snoop around and get up to who knows what. There was no winning!

“Welcome aboard, Jackie!” he said with a wave, his smile showing a bit too much teeth.

“Where exactly are we going, anyway?” her mother asked.

“Come down, mum. You can watch the landing on the view screen with us,” Rose encouraged, releasing him so that she could meet her halfway. “We’re gonna land at wherever they’re controlling the ghosts. Are you fine to stay on board? There’s a pool, you could have a nice swim. Or watch telly in the media room. We’ll be back before you know it.”

“I’m just supposed to hang out in this weird ship of his while you’re off trying to get yourselves killed?”

“We do stuff like this all the time,” the Doctor piped in, trying to reassure her. “Only this time you’re on the TARDIS instead of at home in your flat. Which, really, is much better, when you think about it. Best ship in the Universe.”

Jackie still didn’t look thrilled as they all gathered around the view screen. She looked even less thrilled as they watched the TARDIS land in a hanger before immediately being surrounded by armed gunmen.

“Oh, well, there goes the advantage of surprise,” he sighed. “Still, cuts to the chase.”

Now he was going to have to deal with soldiers. Really, every time he thought that the day couldn’t possibly get worse. The Doctor turned to his mother-in-law as he made his way around the console.

“Jackie, stay inside. Doors shut. They can’t get in.”

“I’m not staying here! Take me home!”

“It’s too late for that,” he told her. “Shouldn’t have come aboard if you didn’t fancy a trip.”

“I was kidnapped!”

He rolled his eyes, deciding not to dignify that with a response as he took Rose’s hand. She pulled him to a stop before they reached the door.

“Doctor, they’ve got guns.”

The Doctor mentally reminded his wife that they’d been surrounded by much, much worse. Daleks couldn’t help but come to mind. 21 st century Earth guns were really the least of his concerns at the moment. Jackie Tyler accidentally breaking his precious timeship was more of a worry than guns. Whatever these creatures had planned, definitely more of a worry than guns.

“And we haven’t,” he delightfully informed her. “Which makes us the better people, don’t you think? They can shoot us dead, but the moral high ground is ours.”

With that, he tugged her out of the TARDIS behind him and closed the door as casually as he could manage.

Honestly, with all of the emergency programs he had installed, why couldn’t he have made one to deal with this scenario? A program that would immediately take Jackie home and then bring the TARDIS right back - now that would be nifty.

 They barely had a chance to look around before the soldiers surrounding them cocked their guns. He and Rose quickly raised their hands to prove they were unarmed.

Y’know what this reminds me of?, his wife casually asked across their connection.

What?

Utah, 2012.

The Doctor’s eyes swept the area as much as he could without moving his head. He could see her point.

Do you think they’d fire if I knocked on wood right now?, he asked her, just as a blonde woman in a suit rushed into the hanger.

“Oh! Oh, how marvelous!” she exclaimed, clapping.

I think she may’ve gone ‘round the bend, Rose laughed in his head as she fought back a confused smile.

The soldiers slowly began to lower their weapons as they joined in on the … clapping? Really, why were they clapping?

“Oh, very good. Superb. Happy day!”

Really, the Doctor felt inclined to agree with his bondmate on this one. Still, now that guns weren’t being pointed at them he was inclined to just go with it.

“Uhm, thanks. Nice to meet you,” he greeted. “I’m the Doctor, and this is my-”

Probably not the time to introduce me as your wife.

“- this is Rose.”

“Hello,” his wife waved with a wide grin that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Oh, I should say! Hurray!”

And there they went again with the clapping. Honestly, what the bloody hell was going on?

Think you’ve got more fans, Rose teased.

“You- you’ve heard of me, then?”

Really, where had his ship landed them?

“Well of course we have,” the overly enthusiastic woman replied. “And I have to say, if it wasn’t for you, none of us would be here! The Doctor and the TARDIS.” 

Everyone started clapping yet again. He was starting to get used to it, actually. It was kind of nice.

“And his companion, of course,” the woman continued.

Okay, not as nice. Then again, Rose was the one who didn’t want him to say she was his wife. Which was probably the smart thing to do, mid-invasion, but still. Just … didn’t feel right. As it was, she had had to cover her mouth with her hands in order to keep herself from laughing - out loud. Their bond was awash with her amusement. The Doctor found himself fighting the urge himself as he tried to politely make them stop.

“And- and- and you are?” he asked as the noise died down.

“Oh, plenty of time for that,” she evaded. Huh.

I think she thinks she’s the boss of you, his bondmate informed him.

She also thinks that I’m the boss ofyou, the Doctor couldn’t help but point out.

Bless.

“Aaaaaaanyway lead on, allons-y. Will there be nibbles?”

He fought the urge to take Rose’s hand as they followed the woman away from the TARDIS, surrounded by armed guards, stuffing his fists into his pockets. A moment later she tugged on his sleeve. The Doctor glanced over, taking out his hand when she rolled her eyes. Their fingers slotted together, perfect fit, as always.

We’ve been holding hands since the moment we met, she mentally chastised. Memories played across their bond.

She certainly wasn’t wrong.

Sorry, he told her, squeezing her hand. Not sure how to pretend to not be married, I guess.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Rose smirk.

Well, I took off my ring. Think all we’ve got to do now is not say it outright.

Before he could properly respond, something on the tip of his tongue (or whatever the telepathic equivalent of that idiom might be) about how he could do a much better job than that, the mystery woman started talking.

“It was only a matter of time until you found us, and at last you’ve made it,” she said. “I’d like to welcome you, Doctor. Welcome to Torchwood.”

With that, she flung open the doors and they entered a massive warehouse. A massive warehouse that was full of alien technology. And since this definitely wasn’t UNIT, this was very, very not good.

Blimey , he told his wife, you’re right. This really is frighteningly similar to that bunker in Utah.

Gonna nip over to that crate and knock on wood?, Rose asked, only partially teasing.

He really was considering it, actually, but … (he peeked behind him at the armed soldiers following uncomfortably close) better not. Instead he focused on the spacecraft in front of them.

“That’s a Jathar Sunglider,” he realized.

“Came down to Earth off the Shetland Islands ten years ago,” the woman explained.

“What, did it crash?”

“No, we shot it down,” she stated. “It violated our airspace. Then we stripped it bare.” 

Oh, this was really not good. The Doctor tried to sense the timelines, but they were all still so jumbled and wrong that he couldn’t make out the consequences of it, this technology that Earth really shouldn’t have right now. Not yet.

“The weapon that destroyed the Sycorax on Christmas day?” the woman continued with pride, “That was us. Now, if you’d like to come with me.”

That’s what Harriet said, Rose realized, replaying the memory over the bond, Torchwood. I didn’t even think about it, though.

No, me either, he agreed as they were led further into the warehouse. Why hadn’t he noticed anything off before? He should have felt it. On Christmas, maybe not - he’d just regenerated. But apparently this organization has been active for at least a decade, if not longer.

“The Torchwood Institute has a motto - ‘If it’s alien, it’s ours’,” their ‘captor’ slash ‘tour guide’ explained. “Anything that comes from the sky, we strip it down and we use it for the good of the British Empire.”

“Excuse me, the what?” Rose interrupted.

“The British Empire,” the woman repeated, turning around and looking his bondmate up and down, sizing her up.

“There hasn’t been a British Empire in ages,” Rose informed her, and she wasn’t wrong.

“We’ll see,” their hostess replied, a little too condescending for his liking. “Ah, excuse me,” she continued as a soldier handed her a particle gun?! “Now if you wouldn’t mind. Do you recognize this, Doctor?”

“That’s a particle gun.”

Now that he was here, now that this had his full attention, the Doctor could feel the strain on the timelines. This whole building was a threat to the entire causal nexus. His wife held his hand tighter when he showed her just a smidge of it over their connection.

“Good, isn’t it?” the woman smiled, unaware of the impending disaster that he wasn’t yet sure how to fix. “Took us eight years to get it to work.”

“It’s the 21st century,” he calmly tried to explain. “You can’t have particle guns.”

“We must defend our border against the alien,” she replied, as if that somehow gave them a free pass.

The Doctor didn’t know what to say to that, which apparently was fine, as their guide wasn’t really paying attention anyway as she handed back the gun.

“Thank you, Sebastian, isn’t it?”

I think it’s best if we just, you know, let her talk, he told Rose, studiously not looking directly at her - and really, there was a lot to take in, the warehouse was packed with advanced tech. Much too advanced.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Think she’ll give us an evil monologue?

Well, I don’t think she’s evil, he admitted. I think she’s … some sort of, I don’t know, business woman? I think she truly believes that what they’re doing here is good . Which makes them even more dangerous.

It would also make stopping them even more difficult.

“Thank you, Sebastian.”

He refocused as she turned back to them.

“I think it’s very important to know everyone by name,” she said. “Torchwood is a very modern organization. People skills. That’s what it’s all about these days. I’m a people person.”

Well that’s … nice?, Rose commented across the bond as she gave the woman a very forced grin.

“Have you got anyone called Alonso?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“No, I don’t think so. Is that important?”

Eh, oh well. It was kind of nice, though, having her asking a question for once.

“No, I suppose not,” the Doctor replied, just as he noticed a crate of Magnaclamps. He’d always wanted some, hadn’t gotten around to it, though. “What was your name?”

“Yvonne,” she told them (finally). “Yvonne Hartman.”

He let go of his wife’s hand, giving into the urge to inspect a clamp.

“Ah, yes,” Yvonne said with a smile. “Now, we’re very fond of these. The Magnaclamp. Found in a spaceship buried at the base of Mount Snowdon. Attach this to an object and it cancels the mass,” she explained, as if he didn’t already know. “I could use it to lift two tonnes of weight with a single hand. That’s an imperial ton, by the way. Torchwood refuses to go metric.”

Of course they do, Rose scoffed over the bond. British Empire, I mean really.

“Well, that’s handy,” is what she said aloud as he tossed the clamp back into the crate, wandering away to try to get a better idea of all of the other alien technology they’d managed to scavenge, commandeer or steal. His wife wandered in the opposite direction, giving him a second set of eyes even if she didn’t know what everything was. It really was a devastating amount, and the Doctor had to assume that this wasn’t all of it.

Really, it was about time they got back on track.

“So, what about the ghosts?” he asked.

“Ah, yes, the ghosts. They’re, er, what you might call a side effect,” Yvonne admitted.

“Of what?”

“All in good time, Doctor. There is an itinerary, trust me.”

Ugh, of all the things to add to this no-good-very-bad-day, he was stuck on a tour. With an itinerary.

It was his personal hell, really.

And to make it even worse, there went the TARDIS on the back of a lorry.

“An itinerary?” Rose scoffed. “And what are you lot doing with the TARDIS?!” My mum’s in there!

Oh, seriously?! He’d just managed to forget that they’d left Jackie Tyler unsupervised on the ship. Really, truly, worst day ever.

Seriously? Could you just grow up and get some perspective?, his wife snarled over their connection.

“If it’s alien, it’s ours,” Yvonne replied confidently.

“You’ll never get inside it,” he told her with just as much confidence, if not more.

“Hmm, et cetera.”

Once she turned away, they both glanced back at their ship to see Rose’s mum peek out through the doors - which he distinctly remembered telling her to keep shut.

Really, why did no one ever listen? He didn’t understand it.

With a sigh, and all of his unflattering thoughts about his mother-in-law safely behind a barrier, the Doctor turned away to continue their ‘tour’. At least the ghosts were on the itinerary. So this day had to turn ‘round at some point … right?

[valkirsif]

Ipswich

I have see The Covenant a couple of day ago and inspired me :)

Chase Collins x Reader

Warning: Smut, Dom/Sub

Word: sorry windows10 wordpad dont count idk what is long :(

I hope enoj!

The room was in dim light,  Y/N lay on the bed 4-legged, hands tied to the ankles, mouth gagged, behind someone approached and began to caress her back "You're so beautiful and perfect in this moment princess," he said as dropped hands on her ass, the soft voice made her aroused and a groan came out of mouth with a trickle of saliva, his voice laughed biting her neck, a shock went down her back, his hands worked agile between her legs, two fingers entered in her pussy without resistance, she was definitely excited, "Mmm so wet for me princess? I'm honored," he said as thrust his fingers into her, arching her back, a hand scratching the skin of thighs as climbed toward her clit, Y/N felt the "He" cock between her thighs, moved on wet pussy and with a single blow entered in her ass making scream with pleasure, the girl began to gasp, sounds of lust came out of her mouth at each thrust, felt "He" moaning behind her while his hands were moving inside her and around theclit, his cock was pushing faster and faster in her ass ... "Ipswich! Next station Ipswich!" the voice of the controller woke her up on the most beautiful, Y/N was excited and sweaty, had still made that dream, the same wet dream that for months left her excited and dissatisfied on waking, the same dream that had convinced her to leave for the city of his childhood, Ipswich, I shake head to wake up, took her luggage, an old rucksack and a bag with the necessary for a few days, and headed for the door. As soon as the door opened, the familiar smell of the lilacs made her smile, she was back home, she did not have time to get off that a girl jumped at her throat, "Y/N you finally arrived !! I'm so happyyyyyyy" the girl chirping still hanging on her neck, "That's all your baggage? You do not want to start immediately right?" she said, taking the bag from her, "Britta !!" Y/N shouted back, "No, no, I mean to stay, my stuff will arrive in a quiet couple of days." The girls stared at each other for a second, they had not seen each other since the previous summer, they burst out laughing and hugged again, they heard laughing behind them and turned around, a group of boys was looking at them, Britta made a tongue out of them and took Y/N hand, "Do not pay attention to them, they're stupid by nature," Britta said, kissing the taller one of them. "This is Tyler my boyfriend," she said, making presentations, "They're Caleb, Pogue and Reid." "Welcome home," Caleb said approaching, "Finally you're back" said the others approaching in turn, Y/N gave a big smile to the boys and hugged them "It's been years, do you still remember me?" she said, "It's so good to be here again, at home!" Britta looked at the group exchanging kisses and hugs, "Hey hey hey what's this, do you already know each other?" she said curiously, Y/N turned to her friend, "Of course we know each other, I would have recognized them everywhere, I told you not ?!" she replied, "I was born here and stayed there until I was 8 old, I did not imagine they would recognize me." "Yes, you told me when you were little, you left out the detail of being one of the Sons of Ipswich," said Britta, annoyed. "Come on Bri do not do that" Y/N hug her, "You're like a sister to me but I do not like to brag about certain things, I do not think Tyler has presented himself as the Son of Ipswich, future Lord of the House Simms!" she theatrically said, staring at his friend, everyone laughed and headed for the parking lot. Y/N went up with Tyler and Britta, they were on their way to his house, before leaving Caleb screamed at her, "Hey at 9pm at the usual place, we have a lot of things to recover, do not miss it ok?", Y/N nodded to him and they started, Britta told Tyler to take them to the dorm, he and Y/N they looked for a second, "Um Britta I will not stay in the dorm", "And where do you think you're staying as long as you stay here?" asked her friend, "I really will not stop alone for the semester, I intend to stay" Y/N was embarrassed, "The house of my family is close to that of Tyler, I will settle there and I would be happy if you come to live with me." Britta was stunned "Like how??? Do you have a house here?? It will not be the huge red brick house it??" she bombarded her with questions, questions that Y/N was not ready to answer, she just nodded. The car curved and took a long tree-lined avenue to a red brick colonial house, the garden was manicured, the flower beds pruned and in flower despite the property had been empty for a decade, Y/N did not expect it and admired everything with amazement, Tyler smiled and admitted that all the Families had committed themselves to keep home and garden in perfect condition, they knew that sooner or later she would return, Y/N was moved and hug the boy with affection, parked and ran up the stairs to open the door followed by Britta, Tyler downloaded the few things that the girl had with him and followed them. The house had been whitewashed and clean and smelled of spring, the smell of lilac permeated everything, it was the first memory of Y/N, the lilacs and her grandmother who was preparing the biscuits, she carried the luggage in the big room in the attic, her favorite always, and opened all the windows helped by Britta, "Girls I have to go, my mother will be happy to know you're back, see you tonight Y/N ", Tyler kissed Britta and went out, " Finally alone" Britta said "Now I want to know EVERYTHING !!!", the girls got comfortable in the library and Britta bombarded her with questions, Y/N tried to answer as much as possible to her friend, but some things she wanted, she had to keep them for herself, not so much for the judgment of Britta but for the "pact of Families", the pact was sacred .. the pact was everything, could not talk about it with anyone, still managed to wriggle the thorniest questions, the friend was as curious as ever, had known for years and had always said everything .. "So your family was one of those who built Ipswich and the college? Envy, they all know you in the city then, and I had prepared a wonderful tour to show you! When you feel ready I want to know everything about the Sons of Ipswich though, I know that you hide something from me, as others do, do not bother me" Britta told her, Y/N did not know what to say but the bell saved her, opened the door and found herself in front of a man who had everything the appearance of a butler with a vas soy in hand, "Miss Y/N i assume," the man said, she nodded, "Madame Simms sends her greetings and dinner and invites to visit her as soon as she is settled" the man went into the house and supported the tray in the dining room before greeting and going out, the girls discovered the dinner and binge, on the plate of biscuits there was a ticket "This is your grandma's recipe I hope they make you feel at home ES " Y/N was about to cry, those biscuits knew of home like nothing else, they ended up having dinner, washed the dishes and headed for the room, Y/N pulled a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a little sweater and got ready to go out, it was almost 9pm, Britta started to follow her, "Sorry Bri but you can not come with me, not tonight" she whispered to her friend "How can I not come? my friends?" she replied piqued "Bri tries to understand, it's true they are your friends but in a certain sense they are my family, the only family that has remained and you can not follow me in "our place", I can not tell you anything else, I would like to do it but I can not, not now "Y/N tried to explain better than he could, "Will you still be here when I come back? I do not want to be alone in this house, please " she asked, "I do not know what happens but I will stay here expect, but I want answers on your return ok?" the girls hugged and Y/N came out in the moonlight, did not need the flashlight, knew the area as her pockets even if it had been away for 10 years. Y/N turned a couple of times to be sure that the 'friend was not following her and 15 minutes had arrived at the Pope old barn, as for her house the other Families were concerned to keep the property of the Pope in perfect condition, entered without knocking and sat in her place with others, torches and candles lit the inside but from outside the barn seemed dark, the group stood in a circle holding hands, reaffirming the path made by the Families when they built the city centuries ago, it was as if they had never gone, spoke to along the decade they had passed apart, Y/N learned that the grandparents of Pogue and Caleb had passed over the year before and were saddened, still remembered the afternoons spent together and the grandparents who watched over them while they were playing down ardino, the "lessons" that they gave them in that same barn on moonlit nights, in turn gave them the news of his grandmother's death a couple of years before, a sense of joy surrounded them for a moment and everyone smiled feeling 'love of their ancestors to remind them that going beyond was just the beginning not the end, the group sat down and updated the Book of Families marking her return, there was still a name to that book and everyone turned to look the empty seat wondering when a Pope would come back, reestablished the line of power and Y/N also told of the dreams that tormented her without any shame and asked them what she could say to Britta on her return, everyone knew the girl's curiosity and now could be a problem, they agreed on a version of the story that everyone would have told if she asked questions and they said goodbye. It was almost dawn when a exhausted Y/N dragged herself to the bed, she just wanted to sleep it had been a long day but unfortunately Britta had other plans, she had made coffee and was waiting for her more of questions, the girl told her a part of the story, the most known and fictional that was in almost all the history books of the city and her friend subsided, "Wow my girlfriend is nothing less than the heir of a witch ... what a story! " Britta was excited by the news, "So for halloween, jump from the roof with striped socks on a broomstick?" she mocked her, "Of course I shot laser from my eyes with the full moon !!" the threat Y/N, the two burst out laughing and went to bed, luckily Britta was convinced that everything was fine, she thought before closing her eyes. Again she was in the dim light, this time she was sitting on a armchair, wrists tied to the armrests, the hair tied in a high ponytail wore only a pair of stockings and red heels, "He" was there next to her, turned around, "Eyes on me princess and open your mouth "he told, Y/N obeyed and for the first time she saw him, tall, the sculpted naked body, completely black eyes and short hair, was as young as she, is beautiful, the boy smiled caressing her face and put his fingers in mouth, the girl started to suck, "Good girl," he said holding her nipple, Y/N groaned and he kissed her with fervor, the girl wanted to cling to him, nailed his nails in the back and get fucked but was blocked from the laces, he took her face in his hands and put the dick in the mouth, "I often dreamed of your mouth around my cock" he moaned "It's exactly as I imagined it, warm and soft." he pushed cock into her throat until he was suffocating for a few seconds, then took it off, moved the girl's head to keep the rhythm and power on her, streams of saliva came out of her mouth with moans of pleasure, she closed eyes for a second and when she opened them was in her bed, it was morning, "He" had disappeared .. again. Y/N went down to the kitchen attracted by the smell of coffee, Britta was preparing breakfast, "Hey good morning, it's almost 3pm luckily the lessons start next week," she told her, putting eggs and muffins in front of them, "Reid and Caleb have passed while you sleep await you at Tyler when you are presentable" sat down and ate in silence, Y/N was still excited for the dream but the friend did not notice, they dressed and went out together to reach the boys at the Simms house, they arrived in a couple of minutes through the shortcut that united the properties of the Families, knocked and the butler of the day before accompanied them in on the veranda, Elizabeth Simms hugged Y/N like a daughter took her face in the hands to look better "You're the copy of your mother, those eyes would recognize them in a thousand," she said fondly, "Thanks aunt Elly I'm happy to be returned home, others where they hid?" she asked looking around, "They wait for you at the hut, I had a snack," the woman replied, Y/N took Britta and dragged her into the garden, "To the hut? What hut?" asked her friend as they walked behind the hedge and found themselves in front of a thousand-year-old oak, "This hut" Y/N replied, laughing at her expression, "Hey throw the ladder we're here!!" she shouted, the boys let down a rope ladder and the girls climbed in a moment, "Here is this hut, we've been together for 4 years and I've never seen it, why?" Britta asked Tyler, the boy kissed her with passion to end the questions, the group was comfortable missing a few days at the beginning of the lessons and Y/N had an endless list of things to do, sign up for courses, register, all boring bureaucracy, helping the friend to move and make food supplies, maybe get a means of transport, all problems related to any move resolved in less than two minutes by the boys, "You are a Daughter of Ipswich the only thing that owes you worry is choosing a car, you've been a Spenser since you were born like all of us and like your kids tomorrow," Reid told her, "You have an assigned parking space, canteen and lessons ", Y/N not if he was waiting for him, she was too young to know the fame of her family and the privileges that ensued but now she was ready to take her place and do her part, "Take my weight off Reid, I can relax and wait for the movers then," she smiled. The week she found out quickly, the movers arrived with all her belongings, she and Britta settled the house and made provisions, bought a car and studied the campus map, did not want to get lost even though she had all the lessons with the others, finally the first day of lessons had arrived, she put on her stretched outfit, prepared the books and waited for Britta who was late as always and rushed to the Spenser, as Reid had a reserved parking lot, the others were waiting to get in together, greeted Britta who had different lessons, compared to they entered the classroom every 2 hours and was presented to the class by the professor on duty and within half a day everyone knew that she had returned, the friend joined them for lunch and sat down at their table, it was strange to be part of the elite to hear everyone's eyes on she put it vaguely uncomfortable but she could count on her family and on Britta not to think about it too, they had lunch in joy and they went back to classes, in the afternoon Y/N and the others were called in the office of the rector, it was the first day of lessons not they had done nothing, the group looked at each other and went to the office. The rector welcomed them smiling "Sorry if I interrupted your lesson but I wanted to introduce Mr. Chase Collins to you, he just arrived and I hope you welcome him as is expected of you" the group looked at the stranger not understanding what the rector meant, the heart of Y/N had a jolt was "him", his dream was there in front of her, only the eyes were different, a deep blue , no one had time to ask questions, the rector resumed talking "Mr. Collins is Pope's great-great-grandson, in effect one of the Sons of Ipswich, I thought you might like to know him out of school, for today you are all justified, exits and get acquainted." so saying he dismissed the group that left the office and walked in silence to the library tower, no one knew what to say, Chase looked cheerful and tried to attack speech but the others were still strangled by the news, entered the tower and sat down, "So you would be Pope's nephew, the same Pope who broke the pact and disappeared, the same Pope who almost destroyed all the Families.." Caleb broke the silence, "So they told me," Chase replied quietly, "I do not know anything about my ancestors, my parents died when I was 6 months old and I was adopted by Collins, I just discovered my roots .." "So you thought to come here and see how things go? " asked Pogue staring at him "I'm here to know who I am, to take my place among the Families and to strengthen the pact that my great-great-grandfather broke, that's why I'm here, I do not pretend to like you, I do not know you and you do not know me, but I will not leave, I will take Pope home today," said the altered boy, Y/N did not know what to say, had seen Chase for months in her dreams and was attracted to him, but he was right they knew nothing about him and not knew whether to trust or not, "Very well," said Reid, "Let's meet tonight at the barn at 9 and you can ask what you want", the others glared at him, "Hey do not look at me, the barn is his and has the right to know the story of his family, however ugly, the Pope have done horrendous things but he is still a Son of Ipswich", so saying he stepped forward and shook hands with Chase, the others did the same when Y/N shook his hand a jolt ran through her back, Chase stared at her and smiled, the girl was sure that he had recognized and that dreams were something more. Britta was waiting for her at the car, hours had passed since the end of classes, "But where were you? " she asked anxiously, "There are a lot of rumors about how all of you were called by the rector and a new guy" took Y/N by the arm, "Explain to me why I start not to understand anything and it does not like, " she said seriously, Y/N got into the car and took the phone, "Caleb I have to say .. I know it's a risk but it's like a sister for me I do not mean to lose it for this .." the conversation lasted a few minutes Britta did not understand and became more and more irritated and suspicious, the girls spent the rest of the journey home in silence lost in their thoughts. At home Y/N led her friend in the second room of the attic, opened the windows and made it sitting on the old couch as she took a book from the table, she took a deep breath and handed it to her, the red leather binding and the cover seemed alive, "Everything you want to know is written there," Y/N whispered, "You have to promise me that nothing of what you read will come out of this room, it's worth my life, the life of all the Sons of Ipswich." Britta looked at her and swore earnestly that she would not reveal anything and opened the book, several hours later she closed the book and fixed her friend as if seeing for the first time, "Have you kept everything inside forever, all of you? " she asked, "I just read it but I still do not believe it, all I thought I knew about you, about you and your families were lies, have you kept this secret for centuries? " "I apologize for keeping it hidden but now that you have read understand that the pact must remain secret, our families and our lives are closely linked to the city and the pact, and now you are part of it if you continue with Tyler you will need to know and understand many things" she said seriously, Britta was silent for a few minutes thoughtful, "Thank you for letting me understand, I confess that your return was not as good as I hoped, in short, you arrived and you took my friends as if nothing had happened, you have a house, a library that bears your name and a lot of secrets, but now I understand everything and I swear I will not speak, and right for your information I have every intention of becoming the next Mrs. Simms "she concluded laughing, the girls hugged and laughed back to the kitchen to dine. Everyone arrived at the barn at 9pm, Chase was at the door waiting for them, "Britta is fine?" Tyler asked "Quiet now knows everything and is well waiting for us as soon as we would have finished here ... and expects a ring sooner or later" Y/N replied nudging him, the group laughed to ease the anxiety, Chase smiled and did street, everyone took a seat and Caleb motioned to the boy to sit in the Pope's seat, the Book of Families flew on the round table in the center of the circle and opened, Chase began to read as the progressed he air became more and more electric , none of them was used to all that energy, it was the first time that all the Sons were reunited, after centuries the power could flow again between them, Y/N looked at Chase, the eyes completely black, a smile of victory on the face , the two then stared at the dark. Y/N opened her eyes and looked around, hair still electric, she recognized the room, it was one of her dreams, her heart began to beat quickly "What's up? Where have you all finished??" she asked, almost shouting, a familiar voice answered, "We are alone princess, welcome at home Pope" Chase bowed as approached, "I wanted to stay a little alone with you, the barn was too crowded for my taste," he smiled and stroking her face, the feeling was familiar and the girl's body reacted to that touch making it wet, a sigh came out of her mouth, this time she was free, free to look at those eyes that had haunted her for months, free to touch that face, she stretched out a hand and moved a strand of hair from his face before sinking hands in hair and kissing him, he reacted by kissing her in turn, nothing delicate or romantic, only tongue and lips, moans and lust, Chase's hands went down on the girl's t-shirt and gently gripped the soft breasts through the thin fabric, the nipples became hard and Y/N detached from him gasping for breath "You undress princess want or see your soft body," he ordered as took off the shirt, Y/N obeyed remaining in bra and panties in the light of candles, "You're like in my dreams, soft and perfect," he said,"Take it all off, you will not do the shy now? " ordered, the smile of the victorious hunter on his face, Y/N began to feel like a hare in a trap but obeyed and remained naked, the electricity caressed her, Chase approached, a blue halo of energy moved with him , touched her face with lips moving towards the neck, the girl closed eyes savoring that light touch, his hands touched her hips almost without touching, Y/N moved to touch it but something prevented it, the energy that flowed from Chase brought her hands behind her back and the block, "Hahaha princess no one gave you permission to move .. or to touch me" he snapped his fingers, Y/N found himself sitting on the chair, unable to move or talk, "I want to tell you a story, the story of a child who at age 10 discovered that he could use energy, the same child who once grew up realized was special and did research discovering that he was different from others, finding the stories about his ancestors in an old book in the library, who decided to return to take what is his, unfortunately my dear adoptive parents did not agree and I had to "convince them" making them get out of the way .. incidents that happen" Chase told the story to a more and more frightened Y/N who listened with tears in her eyes, "The drama of the poor forgetful orphan also worked well with you" he said laughing, "I was 7 years to know my power, certainly I did not have the your "education" but I manage it well enough" and as a demonstration he freed it with a movement of the hand, Y/N did not move, " How could you kill your parents?" she asked, "You could come back without hurting them, you could take away the memories of you it was not necessary .." the words went out in her throat, "What do you want from us?" concluded staring at him "What I want? good question" he said turning around the armchair, "I do not want anything from you, I do not want anything, I'm here just for you princess" he stopped in front of her, put a finger on her lips stroking, the girl flicked her tongue and started to suck, she was scared but after months of dreams her body reacted alone to the minimum stimulus of Chase. The boy untied his jeans, the shape of his cock was hard you could see through the fabric of the boxer, Y/N lick her lips waiting, "Is this what you want princess?" he said taking cock in his hand, "You do not need to pretend anything, make the princess scared, I know you, I know your every secret" he pulled her head back to look better while talking to her, "Speak now before it stops you from talk while I'm aiming this beautiful mouth " "You're a monster" she whispered,"But .. but .. hate to admit .. but it's true I want you .. in all these months I've always wanted you inside me .." lowering her eyes, Chase lifted her face, "Very good princess I'm here to fulfill all your most gory desires" finished the sentence and put the cock in her mouth, the body of Y/N was waiting for nothing else, began to lick and suck while the boy held her head, they moved together, she supported every movement of him, as in her dreams his cock choked at every blow taking her breath away, making her moan and drool, the energy began to flow between them always stronger and "solid", she felt Chase moan, "It's better than in m I dream princess," he said grumbling and slowing the pace, "It's never enough for you? " with hand held her nipple, the girl stopped and moaned his name, Chase took the cock out of her mouth and kissed, instinctively Y/N opened her legs, the boy slipped his free hand to her stomach, going down slowly, torturing her one inc at a time as continued to squeeze and pinch her breasts, two fingers clenched her clit and the girl screamed with pleasure, Chase stared at her, laughing at every convulsive movement of her at his touch, "Um, you wet the armchair," he whispered as slipped two fingers into her cunt and began to move in her, fingers came in and out rhythmically, rubbing her G-spot, the palm pressed on the clit, the other hand continued to torture her nipples, "My perverted princess, do you like it?" he told, black eyes had imprisoned her, Y/N could not help but stare at him and get lost in those eyes, "Please .. Chase please .. i need more .. please harder" the girl panted, "Ohhh lo I know what you would like now, would you like to enjoy, would you let my hands make you enjoy," he said biting her neck, felt her cunt tight around his fingers,"Not so fast princess" and took his hands away from her, a moan of disappointment came out of the girl's mouth, once again was dissatisfied. He had her get up and escorted to the next room, a large four-poster bed was in the middle of the room, the boy took the belt, tied her hands behind her back and pushed the bed, the face on the mattress, took the straps and tied the ankles to the base of the bed, calmly tied the hair in a high ponytail and stopped a second to admire it, "Very similar to the vision of the train , something is missing ... "he said and put a gagbal in her mouth , "Now it is perfect" he smiled, stepping back, finished undressing and moved behind her, took by the hips and forcibly moved to the edge of the bed, Y/N  face rubbed against the sheets, the energy increased her excitement and a trickle of saliva came out of her mouth, "You have the skin so pale, it lacks a little color" so saying the spank, the girl screamed in surprise, hit her again and again, 3, 4 times, the delicate skin the ass was on fire and she felt the pleasure climb, Chase laughed behind her while stroking ass and moved his hands on her back, he felt his nails scratch her hips and could not help but bow more, the body slave of lust, she wanted to cry out but a long groan came from her mouth, the gagball prevented any sound, she felt his cock between the legs while rubbing on her wet pussy, took her tail and pulled head back while with a single slow stroke made his way in her ass, moaned with pleasure in echoing his groans, his nails planted in her hips to keep control, Chase began to fuck her without kindness as if it were a toy, "his" toy, felt his cock sink in her, the boy let the grip on the hair and put his hand on her breasts, scratching and pinching the delicate skin of her who was complaining now out of control, she lacked the air, the pleasure was all .. it was everywhere, "I knew you'd like to be fucked like the bitch you're" grunted him slowing down to talk to her, "My perverted princess has nothing to say?" he snarled in her ear, "Would you like me to take the gagball out of you? Would you scream how much do you like being taken like that?" he sank into her every word, took her by the shoulders and lifted to the knees, "Look at me princess" he growled, turning her head, "I do not want to miss anything of your expression, of your pleasure, I want to watch you while you enjoy this cock and these hands", he said, biting her hard, Y/N felt his teeth tear the skin of her neck and tried to rebel. Chase grabbed her neck with one hand,"It makes no sense to react like that. , you are mine and I want everyone to see clearly tomorrow "loosened his grip, "I want everyone to know who you belong to" he stared and licked her wound, he let the grip on her neck and put hand on breasts down her legs, he clenched clit making her moan, slipped two fingers in her pussy slipping up to her soft core and began to fuck, his fingers and his cock moved in her rhythmically, her mind was fogging, felt Chase grunting and growling as he moved faster and faster, her ass was tight around his cock, he felt the orgasm mount in her, the two looked at the peak of pleasure and with a long stroke came, orgasm exploded in her like never before that moment and they lost themselves in the energy that was unleashed in and around them, the bodies prey to the spasms, closed their eyes and lost their senses. She awoke with a start at her house, in her bed with favorite pajamas, put us a moment to understand that she was safe, she heard voices coming from the room, "... are you sure she's okay?" someone said, "She's very comfortable" Aunt Elly's voice was unmistakable, "We want to come up to her ..", the rumors were confused, she did not know how much had slept or dreamed or not, she decided to get up, got out of bed and looked in the mirror of the toilet, "Oh shit was not a dream this time" she said to herself while looking at the sign of Chase's teeth on the neck, "Now as I explain it to others ..." she wondered went downstairs and entered the room, they were all there waiting, worried faces, "Are you okay?" Caleb asked, hugging her, the others followed him and found herself surrounded by others, the energy flowed making them feel better and protected, "Yes, yes, I'm fine, how long have I slept?" she asked, dissolving embrace, "2 days," Reid replied, "Can you tell us what happened? It was unleashed in the tower you and Chase disappeared, nobody could find you .. " "Britta was going crazy, she called us when Chase brought you home" Pogue interjected, "Damn Britta, where is she now?" Y/N worried about her friend, "Quiet it is with Tyler, we thought it was better if you were not here when you woke up, aunt Elly watched over you while you were sleeping" Caleb still held her in his arms, protective as always, as when they were small, the girl leaned on him and the group moved into the kitchen, aunt Elly had prepared breakfast and was about to go, "I'm going to warn Tyler that you're awake and you're fine, for now rests and eat see you later " she kissed her in the forehead and left. Y/N told what had happened, she was tempted ion of lying about the fact that she liked it but the others would have noticed, after reading the book all together the bond has been sealed even more it was impossible to hide something at that point, the others remained silent looking at each other for an infinite time, as always Reid was to break the silence, "So now you and Chase are a couple?" he ventured "He came back just for this?" he asked, "I think so," admitted Y /N "E 'here for me and to reclaim his place among the Sons of Ipswich, " " I do not like this story, I do not like it at all, "said Pogue "There's no way to keep it away from you? ", embarrassed Y/N admitted that did not want to stay away from him, she belonged to him as he belonged to her, "The Book says nothing about it" a voice broke in, the group stood in front of Y/N to protect it, Chase was on the door , hands up and smiles as always, eyes again of a deep blue, Y/N made way and came up, holding him by the hand, he took her face in hands and kissed, the energy electrified everything again, "Stay away from her" Caleb put in the middle, with a hand gesture Chase stopped him in place, "I do not want do not hurt anyone, we are a "family" no ?!" he said bending his head and staring at the rest of the group on the defensive, Y/N took his hands and Caleb was free, "Chase please " she said "Look at me, it's all right nobody will hurt you and you .. you do not have to hurt them, as you said we are a family and we have to stay together" the two looked at each other and Chase calmed down, "You are good for not having a "education" like ours" Caleb told him, extending his hand to make peace, the two shook hands, "I know your thoughts, I know you do not trust me as I do not trust you, but for my sake I'll try to please your ugly faces" Chase said laughing before turning and kissing Y/N blatantly, at that moment Tyler and Britta arrived, "You are wake up finally " the girl said " Thanks to Chase for bringing her home safe and sound" and hugged them both, the group exchanged looks but no one spoke. The boys gathered in the barn together with their parents, they wanted to understand what was happening, aunt Elly came forward supported by the other adults , "It's true the Book does not contain anything about what happened but ..." she pulled out a book, looked very old and delicate, "This is Hanna Garwin's diary," she said, the boys looked at Reid who looked surprised, was the first time he saw it, "Here Hanna wrote what happened to her and Kenneth Parry" eyes moved to Pogue, he was surprised too, "They were traveling to find a place to found the Ipswich colony, Hanna was promise to a man in the area but the Power chose differently, she and Kenneth were simply born to be united and nothing and nobody managed to separate them, the promised spouse of Hanna tried and he did not stay anything, I found traces of other couples eculed from Power in each of the Families over the centuries, the only thing we can do, what you can do, is accept what's going on." " So we can only welcome this stranger among us as a matter of fact?" Caleb was irritated, "Did you know that he killed his adoptive parents on a whim?" "Well" the stranger "has no intention of leaving and I did what I thought was right for my life, do you want to see what it's like to disappear?" caused Chase, the parents got in the way like a barrier, "You two must stop IMMEDIATELY" said Caleb's mother, "Chase made mistakes, SERIOUS mistakes, but he has every right to take his place and stay with Y/N if she wants it too, and you ... YOU Caleb you have to accept the thing" put her hand on the child's chest, "I know how you feel for her but you can not decide who she has to stay with," she whispered, Caleb looked deeply struck, "Energy flows between all the Families, you're my son, not you have secrets for me" she looked at him with love and the boy surrendered in spite of himself, his mother was right as always, he was in love with Y/N but could not have it and it seemed terribly unjust that a stranger and a murderer had conquered it. The family returned home, Britta ran to Tyler, did not want to make the third inconvenient between Chase and Y/N who cooed in the library, would have postponed the third degree to the next day, the couple had locked up in a bubble of energy, there were only at that moment the mark on the neck of Y/N had disappeared replaced by a ring, everything would have gone well, Chase would have settled and softened, the story of the forgiven and forgotten murder, the jealousy of Caleb would have disappeared and the Sons Ipswich would have lived and hoped to keep the Covenant.

[stillthewordgirl]

LOT/CC fic: Secret Santa, Ch. 1 of 4

Len really isn't the "Secret Santa" type. Hell, he's not really the Christmas type. But when Sara challenges him...well. Maybe this could be fun, after all...

I know I have other things to write, but I couldn't resist this. Original Team Legends (set in an extended season 1) and slow-burn CaptainCanary. Should be four chapters, done before Christmas! 

Many thanks to @larielromeniel for the beta! Can also be read here at AO3 or here at FF.net.

It's Raymond who starts it, predictably.

And Leonard who, just as predictably, turns him down flat. He doesn't laugh in the inventor's face, not quite, but his distaste is clear, as is Ray's disappointment.

Leonard semi-expects Kendra or Jax to try and change his mind, or even Stein, in the name of team unity. He doesn't expect the person who finally does broach the subject.

"Playing Scrooge, huh?"

He lifts his eyes from the book in his hands—"A Tale of Two Cities," an old favorite found in the Waverider's library—and snorts. "Wrong Dickens," he tells Sara drily, turning a page. "But, no, I'm not really one for the whole 'Christmas cheer' sort of thing. Bad memories."

It's only a sign of the friendship that's grown up between the crook and the assassin that he even alludes to his background; god knows he wouldn't have mentioned it with any other member of the crew. (Even Mick, who knows anyway.) That friendship has only grown since the team dragged him out of the time stream following the Oculus explosion, since the defeat of Vandal Savage and the team-wide decision to stay with the Waverider, to protect history and try to save Rip's family.

And if they both still feel the possibility of "me and you" hanging over them, well, Len's not going to be the one to bring it up.

He's not quite sure how he'd had the nerve to do it in the first place.

Sara raises an eyebrow at him as she perches on the corner of his bed, completely at ease. They've been in and out of each other's quarters frequently over the past six months, and it's not like she hasn't been there before, after all, even if not quite in the way he'd like.

"A Waverider 'Secret Santa' is pretty harmless, I think," she tells him.

He blinks at her, then sits the book down, leans back against the wall and shakes his head. "Really? I didn't think he'd send you."

"No one sent me." Sara rolls her eyes and leans back next to him, her nearness raising the hairs on his arms, though not in an unpleasant way. "I just thought it might be fun."

"Fun?" Sara laughs at the distaste in his voice. "Trying to find little…tchotchkes…geared to someone like Raymond or the professor, to celebrate a holiday on a ship that's traveling through time and isn't even on the same timeline as…"

"Ray figured out how many days we've lived since Rip picked us up and that it'd be Christmas for us…"

"I know. He explained. At length." He snorts again at the memory of the other man's earnestness, almost smiling at Sara's chuckle at his words, turning his head to do one of his favorite things and watch her.

But Sara's looking at him through her lashes again, smiling a little, and it's the expression that very nearly stops his…OK, yeah, he does have a heart…in his chest. He loves that expression. He's loved it for a long time.

"If you don't do it, we don't have an even number," she says in a coaxing tone. "It won't work."

Leonard eyes her, wondering what she's thinking. "Mick won't do it anyway."

"But he is." She smiles at his expression. "Ray pointed out that booze is a common Secret Santa gift."

Yeah, that would do it. "Stein doesn't even celebrate Christmas."

"He says a gift exchange is a 'charming secular notion.' He's in."

"Rip…"

"Decided it was easier to play along than deal with Ray's puppy eyes and moping." Sara casually reaches out and threads her fingers through his, and the easy gesture makes him freeze, then draw a deep breath that he hopes Sara doesn't hear. (Even as he knows she does.) "Please?"

Please.

His head says no. His heart…

"OK."

Raymond is altogether too happy with that change of heart. Mick barks out a laugh, smirks at him, and then pointedly looks at Sara. Len ignores him, strolling over to lean against the counter in the galley, where they've agreed to meet. Sara walks over to lean next to him, shoulder brushing his again. Well, there's that.

"OK. I'm really glad you all uh, decided to take part!" Raymond claps his hands together and grins at them. Len meets Rip's eyes across the room—the captain is standing by the door—and the two men share a rare look of weary agreement. He feels Sara's shoulders shake in silent laughter next to him.

"I have all the names right here," Raymond continues, brandishing a bowl full of folded strips of paper. "So I guess we all just pick one. We have an even number after all…" He beams at Leonard, who rolls his eyes. "…so it works. If you pick your own name, put it back. Honor system!"

Sara elbows Leonard, who elbows her back. Kendra, standing by Mick, covers her mouth with a hand, stifling a laugh, but Len ignores her too, focusing on the bowl as Raymond hands it to Jax.

The kid shakes his head, but accepts it, taking a piece of paper and sitting the bowl down before unfolding it. He grins, but carefully doesn't look at any of them, nodding and passing the bowl to Stein, who takes a paper and checks it—his face briefly going blank—before passing the bowl on to Leonard.

The crook eyes the papers as if they're snakes, but finally takes one, hoping that he's drawn his own name. No honor among thieves, after all.

But no such luck. "Rip Hunter" is written neatly on the slip in Raymond's precise handwriting.

Peachy.

Still, he'd promised. Stifling a sigh, Len pockets the paper and passes the bowl to Sara, who stares at it intensely, hand hovering over it a moment before decisively selecting a paper.

There's a flash of a smile on her face before she carefully conceals it, the paper disappearing up a sleeve or to wherever assassins hide such things before she nods and hands the bowl to Kendra with a flourish.

He misses the next few selections, watching Sara, whose gaze has now turned inward. That means she's not watching him in return, and he can study her features to his heart's content, wondering whose name had caused that flash of happiness, what she's thinking about, what plans she has. He's only jarred out of those musings by Raymond, who takes the last paper, makes a pleased noise (his eyes flicking quickly to Stein and away, Len notices), and sets the bowl down.

"So, we have two weeks to Christmas," he starts to say.

"Dr. Palmer," Rip butts in, looking long-suffering as only the captain can, "I've told you, that's not really how it…"

Raymond ignores him. Well, Leonard can agree with that. "…you should give your Secret Santa two small gifts at some point leading up to Christmas Day," he continues. "And then a bigger one on the day itself. Well, that's how we did it at Palmer Industries, back in the day."

"Haircut," Mick rumbles, turning his paper around in his big hands and looking bemused, "how're we supposed to get gifts, in the time stream? Without just gettin' Gideon to make 'em, which seems to defeat the purpose."

Raymond blinks at him. Stein, of all people, nods. "I was wondering the same, Mr. Rory," the professor says, eyeing Raymond. "Are we supposed to barter? Steal?"

"I can do that," Mick offers, looking up. Sara elbows Len again. He elbows her back. Ignoring Kendra.

"No!" Raymond looks aghast. "Um. Well, we're bound to be out of the time stream soon, right? Fixing something?" He turns to give Rip a beseeching look, an expression the captain meets with resignation.

"I'm sure we will be, Dr. Palmer," he says drily. "But trust me when I tell you that people managed to find small gifts for their loved ones for years before the advent of the enormous online retailers so beloved of your native time. Or even of the so-calling 'shopping malls.'" His eyes grow distant a moment. "Yes, even in the poorest of times."

Hmm. Len files that away in what he's gleaned of the Time Master's background, but allows not a flicker of reaction to show on his own face. Instead he straightens out of his slouch with a theatrical roll of his eyes (he has an image to maintain, after all) and shakes his head.

"Well, this is fun and all," he drawls, taking a step toward the door (aware that he's ruining the effect somewhat by stopping to see if Sara is going to follow), "but I've done as much for…" A wave of his hand. "…team unity as I plan to do for the moment."

"But you have to…"

"I know, Raymond." OK, now Sara's moved away from the counter too. He continues for the door, ignoring the faint huff of laughter that tells him Mick's noticed that, too. (When did Mick start noticing these things? He's going to blame the other man's friendship with Kendra.)

Len's sauntering down the hallway (not too fast, mind you) when Sara catches up to him. They fall into step with each other with an ease born partly of fighting at each other's backs for nearly a year now, partly born of…of…

"Going to tell me who you picked?" she asks him teasingly while he's still trying to figure out where his thoughts were going.

"Thought they called this secret for a reason." He turns his head a little to smirk at her, pleased with the way her eyes are glinting at him. "I'm not just going to sing to the first pretty face that asks."

Sara chuckles, a low, amused sound. "Even if I ask…nicely?"

"Nice has nothing to do with it, Birdie," he retorts, making the…oh, call it what it is…pet name a purr and stopping to put his back against the wall of the hallway, folding his arms and facing her. "Why so curious?"

Sara looks innocent. Or tries. Badly. "Wondered what you thought of a wager."

Len narrows his eyes at her. He's really quite sure his poker face is better than anyone else's on the team—with the possible exception of Sara herself—but he also knows that he tends to give away more that he plans on around her. "What sort?"

She studies him a moment, face growing a little more serious, until he's shifting a little under her intent gaze, then smiles again. "Guess who picked who. Including your own Secret Santa."

The name makes him snort. "I already know a few." He eyes her. "And so do you."

Sara doesn't deny it. "But not all."

"But not all."

She tilts her head at him, nodding. "Well, whichever one of us guesses them all—correctly—first wins. It'll make things a little more…interesting." A grin. "Since otherwise both of us might just have enough with the whole thing and spoil all that 'holiday' spirit."

"That's a risk," he acknowledges, watching her closely. "But…if I win, what do I get?"

He's been trying to be good…in a manner of speaking…lately, trying to curtail the flirtation it seems neither of them can help. Still, the innuendo sneaks into the tone, into the words, and Sara certainly doesn't seem to mind. Instead, her smile grows a little and she takes a step toward him, then another, putting herself truly into his personal space again and even then leaning forward a little.

"I haven't decided yet," she tells him in that low, husky tone again. "Any ideas?"

Oh…

Len shifts a bit and thinks determinedly of ice.

… a few.

"Loser has to share all their gifts?" he comes up with after a moment. "Now, I don't know how good a prize that will be, given this lot, but…"

"That works." In a blink, Sara's stepped back, leaving him missing her warmth. "It's a deal, Crook. How will we know?"

"Hmm. Before the actual 'Christmas' shindig Raymond's planning, we both write the answers down and exchange them?" It definitely feels like she's got more up her sleeve than her knives, but what?

"Perfect." Sara nods decisively, turning down the hallway toward her room. "And may the best Legend win." With a wink, she disappears around the corner…

Leaving Leonard wondering what the hell he's just missed.

And just how much he's going to regret this.

[hollywoodx4]

Sticking With the Schuylers (47)

I’m alive! I worked one million hours and got through Open House and met my new teacher’s assistant and it’s all good. 

So now, children, buckle up for more storytime.

1  2  3  4   5   6   7   8   9   10   1112   I  13  14   15   16   17   18A  18B   18C  I  19   20   21   22   23   24   25  26   27  28   29   I  30  31  32 33 34  35  36  37  38  39 40  41  42 I 43  44  B  45  46

Tagging: @linsnavi  @workworkbae​ @adothoe @oosnavi​

Warnings: This story is pretty heavy on mentions of both physical and emotional abuse.

Pudgy hands smooth themselves over a fresh expanse of white-the only piece of the surrounding area that has gone unscathed. They spread out layers of fresh paint from a large plastic pallet, where a copious amount of each color had been deposited and messed into spots of brown from mixing colors. A tongue pokes out from the corner of a little toddler mouth, pouty lips drawn into a fantastically concentrated smile. The toddler bops along to the upbeat music his mother sings as she moves about the kitchen. He works quietly on his art. There is a deep, caffeinated scent of chocolate that floats through the air as the mother opens the oven, and in a way that all baked goods do it snaps the toddler’s head up, drawing him away from his work with a mischievous smile.   He raises his hands, both smeared with a rainbow of color, and wiggles his fingers at his mother with wide and pleading eyes.

               “No, no, James. Not yet. We have to wait for daddy to get home.” This makes the toddler, who had turned in his chair completely, jut out his lower lip in a theatrical sense of sadness. His mother merely laughs.

               “Please, mommy?”

               “No, sweetheart. Wouldn’t daddy be sad if he came home and there wasn’t any cake for him? And besides, what is this cake missing?” She brings the confection closer to her son, fingers tracing the outline of bare brown. Although it is magnificently spongey, and the smell tempts the toddler to draw his face to the cake right then and there, he knows immediately what is missing.

               “Frosting! We need frosting!”

               “That’s right, we do. Would you like to help me make some?”

               The little boy is so excited that he nearly tips over in his chair, paint-stained hands leaving their mark as he catches himself on its back. He covers his mouth with his hands in shock, leaving a beard of primary colors over his face. Feeling the difference in textures-the rapidly drying paint that has stained the chair and his face-James glances upon the mess he has made in the kitchen with his pouty lips turned into an ‘o.’

               “Sorry, mama.” Julie shakes her head and her eyes, a grassy sort of brown, warm at her son’s messy complexion and apologetic stance. The kitchen is a mess, paint splattered seemingly everywhere but the canvas she had given him. Flour and sugar and cake crumbs dust the counter and the floor, and she feels immediately blessed that the ingredients are dry and will not stain the dark hardwood they had just installed.

               On the wall by the refrigerator, Julie Reynolds keeps a row of cleaning supplies at proper level for her son to reach. She’d purchased the miniature broom, dustpan, and cleaner on a late-night catalog skim, and had implemented it into a chore chart and reward system. Her husband hadn’t been too thrilled; the responsibility factor had been something he’d shrugged at, seemingly an unimportant way to teach such a high value. ‘He’ll learn to be responsible by watching,’ Scott had said. But his wife had been upset, and James so busied by the chores, that he chose to let the beautiful hanging display stay.  This is a savior to Julie, who has begun doing the pile of dishes that have accumulated in the kitchen. James knows exactly what to do; the almost three year-old scurries to his little blue broom and haphazardly brushes his mess away. It isn’t perfect by any means-the debris is difficult for tiny hands and a broom made more for imaginary play than actual cleaning. He’s proud, though; his glassy, green-blue eyes are wide and shining as he looks down at his handiwork, which includes multiple minuscule piles of flour and dirt.

Right as he is about to show his mother the slightly cleaned floor, the sound of heavy footsteps makes its way into the kitchen. James turns around immediately, bouncing up and down on his toes before jumping up into his father’s arms. His toddler chatter is incessant and loud, focusing on not one thing but all of them as he points frantically to various points of the kitchen.  His father’s face brightens, if only just by a small candles worth of light. But at his young age James is unable to recognize the lack of sincerity in his father’s voice as he praises him for his hard work. His father is home from a long day at the ‘big building,’ and James is ecstatic.

There is a period of silence as Scott Reynolds holds his son, looking upon the kitchen with the forced smile painted upon his face. Then, he puts his son on the floor.

“Go play, buddy,” he prods. “I’ll come and play with you in a minute.”

James runs off happily, glowing in his father’s well placed praise as he runs off to the playroom. He doesn’t make it far-just around the corner, in fact-before the cacophony of voices hits his ears. The shouting is sharp, unfamiliar and frightening, and his mess-caked hands fly over his ears.  He is struck with a sense of curiosity, heart beating rapidly in his chest as he attempts to discern what might be going on. His father’s voice mixes with his mother’s, loud and booming over her gentle tones.

There are key words he understands; stop and no and Scott, but there’s a wider range to his father’s vocabulary that he has never heard before. Worthless, stupid, bitch…they hit young ears with the sharpness of a knife, meaning translating only through his father’s harsh tone.

James watches from the hallway as his father walks by him, sparing not even a glance before going into his office and slamming the door. The three year old stands still in shock for a moment, confused and slightly frightened by all of the noise. Then, he makes his way back into the kitchen.

Julie Reynolds has the pristine cake in her hands, looking down upon the intricate frosting letters with dismay. Her eyes are red and glassy, and she draws in half of a shaking breath in rapid pace, as if somebody is going to steal away the oxygen from the room. She tosses the cake in the trash-hours of work depleted and degraded in only three minutes time. She doesn’t notice her son’s presence until she puts the trash away, in the pantry by the doorway where he’s standing with his hands folded neatly in front of him.

“Mama,” James picks his broom off of the floor and begins to brush. The uneven sound of thick bristles against hardwood, the innocence of toddler humming, slightly out of tune…they fill the empty spaces in the atmosphere. Where there had once been dissonance and fear there is now a swell of love, one which sweeps Julie across the kitchen to wrap James in a warm, engulfing hug.

“Love you, mama.” Her son buries his head in the crook of her neck, and she cries.

…

His mother cries a lot. She looks at him with wet eyes. She tells him she loves him a lot. He stays at daycare a little bit longer.

…

His mother is quiet. She doesn’t let him help in the kitchen much anymore. She likes to tuck him in by herself. Daddy comes home late.

…

His footsteps are loud and foreboding. At six years old, James knows that his mother is bound to quiet her singing once she takes notice of them. She has dinner on the table when he comes sauntering in to the kitchen, kissing his head and his mother’s cheek before digging into his plate. James fills the room with chatter; he had just started private school at this point, in his khakis and button up shirt, and he wears them with immense pride. His head of thick black curls had been buzzed to peach fuzz for the occasion, a cut that makes him look significantly older than his Power Rangers lunchbox would suggest. He recounts the walk to school with his mother, meeting his teacher, and getting to play kickball with a group of boys from his class. He’d enjoyed the day so much that he begs to go back the next day-back to the place where his name is on a desk and he has to wear fancy clothes like his father. Scott sends a smile across the table that makes James’s heart swell with love. He straightens the buttons on his tiny blue shirt, puffing his chest out with pride. Even his mother, who had been so quiet when his father had come home, laughs and jokes with them. James can barely stop from bouncing in his seat. He is happy.

…

He’s seven year old the day that it happens-the shift. Life had been filled with excitement and love at this point, with his parents taking him to soccer games across the city since the first leaf had turned yellow-since his mother began to drink coffee that smelt like pie. They trekked all over, following teams dressed in blue and red and yellow, cheering on whoever seemed to be winning at the time. James didn’t care. His father would lean over and point out the rules, explaining things with careful patience and answering all of his questions. They’d get giant pretzels and dip them in dripping cheese that he’d lick from his fingers.  And at the end of the day, his mother would carry him the whole way home while his father spoke in soft tones to her. This fall is the best piece of his life, his seven year-old mind decides half asleep in his mother’s arms after their team wins. The air is growing colder, but he is bundled in their arms. He loves going places with his family.

Julie Reynolds decides to spend this particular brisk Sunday morning taking James museum hopping, amplifying his interest in dinosaurs and ancient Egypt. She’s a fan of keeping his intellect sharp and his education extended, creating activities throughout the city to keep him occupied. It’s been working; his teachers compliment her on his curiosity and drive, and he hasn’t had a problem since the hitting incident last year. She’s thankful. He asks her one million questions with his hand tugging her along, poking at the glass and hanging with bits of his weight from the velvet dividing rope. They stop to stare at the colossal t-rex skeleton, where he makes her read each bit of information she can find. He listens with intense concentration. She has to break him away so they have time to see the rest of the museum.

They return from their excursion with handfuls of souvenirs; t-shirts and toy dinosaurs and astronaut food he pretends to enjoy through pursed lips. James hoists his treasures in the air, explaining in minute and well-remembered detail what each of the dinosaurs used to be like. This time, his father doesn’t seem to be listening. He picks up on Scott’s crossed arms; his nods and short answers. After dinner, he’s sent straight to his room to play.

The shouting starts again, just as he’s half way up the stairs. James stops with a shock, his feet planted on the stairs in fright. He’s not sure what is happening, but with age comes a better understanding of the words his father throws at his mother. He knows that they aren’t good; his teacher had once sent one of his friends to the headmaster for saying bitch. But he’s not sure what it all means, this sudden explosion of sound. His father’s volume is unfamiliar, his tone a foreign language to James’s ears.  He sits on the stairs, on the step just above the space where the banister meets the wall, and watches. Their shadows dance across the wall at the landing, a show his eyes never leave with a racing heart. There is a noise that sends James flying from his seat, an echoing bang as one of the shadows drops out of view. Then, there are murmured apologies, his father’s loud footsteps moving about again. His mother’s voice is too quiet to make out.

They have steak for dinner that night. James asks his mother to cut it for him. Her rich, deep-toned skin, from elbow to hand, is covered in an elongated shadow of water-colored black and blue. He runs his little fingers along the marking, looking up at her with concern.

“What happened, mama?”

“It’s nothing, sweetheart.” Her voice cracks slightly. She doesn’t look at him when she speaks. “Mama just tripped in the living room. I’m alright.”

She pushes his plate back toward him, and he doesn’t ask any more questions.

…

               He isn’t sure why he hit his friend at school. His mother’s eyes are red and glassy when she picks him up from the headmaster’s office.

…

               There is one day, when he is ten years old, that he later forces his mind to erase from all forms of recollection.

               His father shows brute strength and bared teeth; hisses through them the harshest words James has ever heard. He knows that the lacy underwear his mother had been holding up are not hers. His thoughts cross paths with the words that come from his mother’s mouth, bold as a mouse picking a fight with a lion. This isn’t the first time this has happened, that much is clear by the tears from one side and the tensed muscles from the other. It isn’t the first time, and it won’t be the last. But something is different about this night, with his mother standing in front of his father, saying the words she never wanted to admit to herself.

               It’s those words that ignite the flame.

               There’s a ringing in James’ ear, rapid and intense, that sets a temporary block to the rest of his senses. His feet are magnetized to the ground, heavy and hard as he watches his mother’s body hit the side of the kitchen counter. The terrible ringing covers his ability to hear, but he is grateful for that as his mother’s lips spread and contort in a twisting sort of agony. She stumbles away, pushes herself off of the cabinet before she’s slammed right back into it. It’s a temporary break in the sensory barrier when he hears the sound of cracking bones, but it’s enough to propel his body forward. He screams-he’s not sure what words are coming out of his mouth or what effect they’ll have, but he stands between his father and his mother with his pouty lips quivering, eyes hard and intimidating although they still bare the glassy tears of a child whose innocence was not meant for moments like this. His father scoffs and asks him to step away. The memory breaks. The last piece of the night he can see is the way his mother cried in his arms, the press of her lips against the thick curls he’d just begun to grow out again.

…

               They don’t talk about that night. His mother folds into herself. His father acts as if nothing happened. In time, he begins to believe it.

…

His father works long hours. Sometimes, James is even allowed to spend some time with him at the office. He explains the basics of what he does, in terms an eleven year old child would understand. He loves going to the office; there is a large row of windows that overlook the city, and from high up in the skyscraper he can see each little yellow taxi as an ant in a colony, shifting and moving and doing their busywork as he stretches out on the floor above them. He feels like a king in his father’s big office, with all of the people that come in and out during the day. They get lunch delivered to them by a nice girl who smiles kindly at him and makes sure he has extra pickles on his hamburger. His father takes breaks to play soccer with him on the small stretch of floor in front of his desk.

He is still full of questions; at eleven years old, curiosity spins itself into well-calculated questions, ones that open conversation because he is afraid he might run out of time.

“I take all the stupid people,” he says as James spins in his big black office chair. ”and I prove them wrong. You can do anything you want if you have a brain in your head and an argument to give.”

…

Things are different on his first day of middle school. He doesn’t want his mother to walk with him anymore. He tags along with the same four faces he’s been friends with since that first day in uniform. He’s kept his hair buzzed-it keeps the sweat from his neck and his sea glass eyes bright against tawny, lightly freckled skin. He carries cleats and Gatorade everywhere he goes. Despite being a sixth grader, James is no benchwarmer. He’s already been assigned starting position for the first soccer game of the season. Middle school is amazing.

He likes to keep one button on his uniform undone; it makes him feel cooler. He makes new friends. Around him, there is a gradual change in the air. He keeps his head up even higher than before. His tongue grows sharp as he begins fighting back; for bad grades, or heinous calls by the ref in his soccer games. It seems to work. The world begins to clear its path for James Reynolds-for the son of a high-profile lawyer. He’s proud of where he’s come from. He carries an argument in his pocket wherever he goes.

…

               “Hey dad,” James stands in the doorway of his father’s office, shuffling from one foot to the other as his eyes scan the room. It’s quiet, the time of evening where each member of the house usually retires to their own activities. His mother is in the living room with a gigantic jigsaw puzzle and a glass of wine, his father in the sprawling, modernly decorated and slightly cluttered office space. James would typically be in his room, watching tv or on the phone with his friends. Tonight, he can’t seem to wind down.

               The air in the room is glazed with a layer of sharp, woodsy cologne and an undertone of the amber-colored whiskey that touches Scott’s lips as he looks up from his work. He nods, an unspoken invitation to enter the room, but James hesitates. He folds his hands in front of him, laces his fingers together. One thumb pushes on the other, curls the skin at his knuckle. When the lack of speech becomes palpable, awkward and thinning the oxygen from the room, Scott looks up at his son. He raises his eyebrow and leans back in his chair, resting his arms behind his neck.

               “What is it, James?”

               “Well…” His voice comes out small at first, muted and gentle and rehearsed. He’d been waiting for the right moment to have this conversation, and now the preteen feels as if his tongue had swelled in size, or the oxygen has stopped flowing to his brain. His body continues its slow rocking, back and forth.

               “Why is mom so different lately?” It isn’t the most tactful way to bring the subject up, nor is it the way he wants to address the situation. But his father’s interest is piqued; he takes another sip of the whiskey in his ornate little glass, the ice cube clinking against its sides. The sound ricochets off of the walls, the mahogany built-ins holding stacks of books about law and argument and ways to fight back.  

               “Your mother is just miserable.” There’s a moment-a twitch at the corner of Scott’s mouth. It snaps back into a frown almost as instantly as his awkward facial change had happened. His swiveling chair squeaks as he stands. James draws in a subconscious breath of air. He watches as his father ambles about the room, running his hand along stacks of paperwork as he cradles his whiskey in the other. In one sip, Scott drains the glass of the rest of its contents and sets it down on a coaster. He crosses the room after some contemplation, leaning back against his desk. His palms are spread over the ledge, one leg crossed over the other.

               “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with all of this, James.” James frowns, eyes narrowed slightly in question. “Your mother hasn’t really been here for you lately. She hasn’t been doing her job. You shouldn’t have to put up with that.”

               He’s not sure what to say; the love he has for his mother has always swelled in his heart, encompassed him in warmth and security. These new words, these opinions…he doesn’t want to feel the agreement that settles into his mind. His mother has been distant. It isn’t fair.

…

               He spends more time out of the house than in it. When he is there-for bed and on nights he’s not occupied by sports or friends-the air feels thick and hard to take in. His father smiles and chats and keeps things going by himself. His mother is quiet, but she keeps up.

               James does not recognize the chemical change in his brain as it is happening; it isn’t for some time until he realizes that the opinions he had held through childhood-all of the truths he’d have defended to the ends of the earth-feel wrong and even embarrassing to think of. His mother becomes a distant figure with drooping posture and solemn, silent voice, unwilling to find compromise. His father eclipses the bright light she’d once held in his mind. Now he is even more of a brilliant man, proud and strong, taking charge of his own life. Any cloud that may have been over him from the past has been blown away, cleared by autumn after autumn of floor seating at soccer games or private parties for him and his friends. He spends more time with his father than with his mother. They just don’t have anything in common anymore. Besides, she’s sad all the time now. Her skin, once ebony smooth, grows thin little crop lines when she frowns. She’s always frowning.

               “Your connections are more important than anything else in this world,” It’s a bit he gets from his father as they stand side-by-side in his office. He’s just closed an important case, one that had him as the victim rather than the worker trying to save them. James hadn’t expected his nanny, his dear and wonderful Lani, to go after their money. But his father had won, and now they were celebrating.

…

               “She’s a whore.”

               It’s a sound between a chuckle and a scoff that comes out of Scott Reynolds at the country club’s Christmas party. He’s pointing to his wife. The group of men they’re standing with-executives and CEOs-laugh too.

               James feels the bounce of his stomach-the snicker-as he fits himself into their circle.

…

               “She’s kind of delusional…you’d have to see it to believe it.”

James rolls his eyes. In one hand he nurses a glass of whiskey. The other is in his pocket, with his thumb on the outside. The men in his circle throw their gazes toward the girl in question, who’s entertaining an enraptured crowd with animated features. Her face is the shape of the moon, rounded and illuminating as such. When she smiles, and the peal of harmonious bell-laughter escapes her, her cheer fills the room with a shower of optimism. Her hair falls in smooth, loose curls down her shoulders, covers the opened back of her dress. She turns after some time of their eyes on her; flashes James a smile with just the turn of her lips. A redness creeps across her lifted cheeks, and she turns before they can see it expand.

“Eliza Schuyler? Delusional?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I love her. I’m telling you though, there are days…she gets stuck on the littlest arguments. It’s like, jesus, find me some relief, you know?”

“At least she’s hot.” The other men laugh and James turns his body to directly face the one who’s made this comment. He’s a bit smaller than James in height, his stouter body fit in a badly tailored suit. He looks the man up and down-he’s a financial advisor for some tech company. He’s ridiculous. He’s not worth anything. While his smile brings about a sense of comradery and agreement, the storm of James’s dazzling eyes, with which he’s sure to  make contact with the man’s, read as a threat.

“Don’t get too excited about it, man. She’s mine.”

His voice is smooth as glass, carrying his lifted posture and warning glances as charming, jesting. The stout man lets out a half-hearted, nervous sort of chuckle, and when Eliza makes her way over to them he won’t even spare a glance her way.

“And here she is now, my beautiful girl.” James has a way of making Eliza blush. He wraps his arm around her waist and pulls her into his side. The other men look on in envy. He flashes his immaculately white teeth in a Cheshire cat smile. “I was just telling the guys how wonderful you are.”

…

               “Elizabeth, you’re being crazy again.” She draws herself back at these words, aimed at her with a shaded sort of venom he doesn’t try to hide. His arm is still around her shoulder. She shrinks.

               “I just asked you a question, James.”

               “And I gave you an answer!”

               They’re sitting on the bed, Eliza with a book in her lap and James scrolling through his phone. It had been a normal night-he’d stopped over after work. She cooked, they ate, and then they’d had sex.  And now, sitting up side by side in her queen sized bed, things had grown awkward.

               He hadn’t been doing anything out of the ordinary-nothing to make Eliza speak to him the way that she had. She’d been furious, in his mind. She’d been out of hand; making assumptions out of thin air and creating a problem where there isn’t one. That’s been her deal lately, her hobby. Eliza would find a moment and turn it into a battle of wits. She’d set him up, find the cracks in his foundation, and then leave him looking like a bad person when she cried. He’d only yell because she set him off. He’d only yell when she wouldn’t listen to him. But there was always another fight to be picked.

               He refuses to put his phone down. Eliza sits further up in bed; props her body on the headboard and presses her fingers to her closed eyelids. She lets out a sigh, just audible enough for James to hear. His gut stirs with boiling, irritated heat.

               “What now?”

               “Nothing.”

               “No, now you’ve opened the door so I’ll let you say what’s on your mind. Go ahead, tell me.”

               “I don’t think you’re being one-hundred percent truthful about this.”

               “Why, because you read one thing? One little thing you took out of context, from a conversation you read over my shoulder?”

               “James,”

               “-You’re looking for problems now! You’re looking for problems, and you can’t deal with the fact that this new job has me working more hours than you’d like.

“-That’s not”

“Well, it’s happening. If I could switch my hours I would but this job is so important to me. You wouldn’t make me choose, would you?” She shakes her head, the beginnings of tears pricking the corners of her eyes. She blinks them away, only lets her eye contact linger for a few seconds at a time. His features soften into a well-calculated turn of lips that makes her mirror him.

“It’s nothing, babe. She’s a girl I work with, it’s an inside joke. I don’t know why you’re always making me out to be the bad guy. I’m not a bad guy.”

“I know.” She closes her book then, rests it on the bedside table before curling into his side. He brushes her hair away from her face-it’s always there, wild and unarranged, and brushing against his bare skin. It makes his nose wrinkle, but she doesn’t notice. Her eyes are closed. She is smiling. “I’m sorry.”

…

               Her name is Hannah, and it’s only casual. There is nothing to tell Eliza. He’s not obligated to tell her anything.

…

               He thinks it’s a good idea, moving in together. It’s the next step, the only way to solidify their relationship the way it is. And she has been so testy lately, so willing to argue every little thing, that it’s necessary. She doesn’t seem to be too thrilled-of course. She’s young, she doesn’t know what she needs or even what she wants. James is here to guide her. She needs to be steered in the right direction.

               Angelica slams boxes onto their floor. She scoffs at him and hugs Eliza with tight arms and a prolonged hold. She’s never respected their relationship, not in the months that it has been going on. Elizabeth has been ricocheting between sides, unable to decipher her own opinions while they’re being debated back and forth so vehemently. They don’t argue in front of her, even though Angelica needs to take a lesson from Peggy; shut her mouth and just unpack boxes.

               She keeps getting in the way of their relationship. She’s brainwashing Eliza. Maybe that’s why she’s been so distant lately. Maybe she needs to spend more time with him instead.

…

               She’s his girlfriend. And as his girlfriend, she should want to have sex with him. There isn’t anything wrong with a little instigation. She always likes it, in the end.

…

               Eliza has no right to leave. She’s being delusional again. He hasn’t done anything to her. She’s blowing things out of proportion. And of course, she’s going to call her fucking sister again. Angelica is always getting in the middle of their business. Both of her sisters are. It’s not fair, not right that she loves them more than she loves him. They have an apartment. They have history. She has no right to leave.

               Someone he doesn’t know comes to collect her things, someone she’s hired. They won’t say a word about where she is, or who she’s with. He watches them come and go with his arms crossed over his chest. His shoulders lock in place, fingers curling and uncurling with tension. She has no right to leave him.

…

               She’s using this guy, the one with the ponytail and the bad taste in clothing. He looks like he’s fourty and four simultaneously. And she’s in all of his pictures, with long-winded captions this guy has written. Alex has thousands of comments on every single one of them. Alex doesn’t know her the way James does. He hasn’t seen her at her worst.  And when he does, she’ll come back to James. He’s sure of it.

               But the pictures keep coming; one after the other, in tabloids and on social media. Everywhere he turns, he’s subjected to their pressed-together faces in a selfie, or a candid of them walking arm-in-arm. Alex is walking with his Elizabeth. She’s taking him to brunch, she took him to the Christmas party. At each turn, with each photograph or article passed his way, James feels the slingshot coil inside of his stomach pull back another inch. It’s igniting a small grouping of embers. There’s gasoline waiting.

               She’s throwing him in James’s face. She’s using Alex to get him back. This unkempt, slightly crazed, wannabe poet of a man isn’t the kind of guy Elizabeth needs. He’s no man. There isn’t an inheritance, or a place in society…there isn’t a redeeming quality within the guy, and yet it’s been months of pictures and feigned happiness. He wonders when she’ll pick up on his cues. It shouldn’t take long. She should be back soon.

…

               He’s in the car on his way from the office when he first sees the picture. The slingshot is pulled a little tighter. She uses little hearts in her caption, words it with such delicacy that he nearly believes that she actually loves the man in each little piece of her collage. He restrains the flame-ridden noise that rises in his chest. He reads the comments when he gets home, flips through them before taking off his jacket. There are already over two thousand of them. There are more little hearts. There is hardly any disappointment. She doesn’t belong with this man. Why can’t anybody see that?

               This is just another projectile, another match thrown into his flame. She’s trying to win him back, that much is clear. She hasn’t posted much about Alex until this point, her social media filled with photos of falling snow and cups at cafes and pairs of boots against white powdered sidewalks. Since he had anonymously mentioned getting back together-he knows she’s read the article, of course she has-she’s posted more and more about this man. More than she had before.

               She’s always been a tease. Refusing him has been her game, this picture her next move. Eliza isn’t really happy, she hadn’t been happy without James and she won’t be happy until she has him again. A smile plays at the corner of his mouth. The slingshot pulls itself tighter; she’s just spilled gasoline on his fire. He’s ready to accept her cries for help. He’s ready to win her back.

“Happy birthday to my man

Thank you for being my rock, my best friend, my favorite. Thank you for the late night Snapchats, putting on suits for me, and making me laugh.

I love you more  than an Instagram post could convey, and 23 has never looked so good.”

[astrologiaxo]

No please...not another Moon Sign post.

I know that moon signs are easily accessible these days, but I made this post solely for refreshing my memory on the moon signs, and to try and get a better understanding of them. 

If you’d like, i’d be very interested in getting to personally know how the moon signs work. If you could answer any of these questions of your choosing, or all, I’d really enjoy reading them. Just make sure to let me know what your rising, moon, and sun sign are. Please send them in an ask :)

Questions:

1. When conflicted with trying to express yourself to someone, how do you approach the issue? For example, if you have feelings for someone, how would you tell them?

2. When you are feeling sad but are bombarded with reality such as being at work, going to school, or being around family, how do you deal with your emotions? Do you let everyone know that you feel a certain way or do you put it in the back burner and deal with it later?

3. Do you tend to manipulate people? If so, how and why?

4. When are you most happy? When are you most sad?

5. Do you deal with negative energy or do you cut the bullshit right away?

6. Are you possessive of your loved ones?

7. Would you say you are social and friendly, or shy and quiet? Or a mix of both?

8. Do you prefer the comfort of your home or out being productive?

MOON SIGNS

How can we even begin to explain the beauty that is the moon sign? It’s who we are at a personal level, when we feel vulnerable, and how we deal with our emotions. It’s a tricky sign because having the same moon sign as someone can suggest you are similar to that person, but the combination of your sun sign with your moon signs says SO much about you. It already sets you apart from the rest of the people with the same sun sign as you. Your moon sign gives you individuality and shows who you are...at heart. 

Moon in Aries: You are so full with emotion whether it be happiness, rage, sadness, that when it comes to this placement, the Arian qualities are even stronger. You are very impulsive and can act on whatever you’re feeling right then and there, without question. If you find yourself letting your heart rule your head this placement would be why. The fact that you can be impatient and get bored easily is actually beneficial for you because it makes you achieve things that most people would be afraid to do. 

Moon in Taurus: You are what home feels like. You want security, comfort, and financial stability and are willing to give this to the people you care most about. You are loyal and it shows. Although you can be the most stubborn one of the group, there’s a reason why you like things a certain way, you just know what works for you. You can be materialistic, often times taking great pride in your luxurious possessions which can put pressure on your friends to live the same way as you. Not everyone has to or wants to live as lavishly as you so try not to compare others to you. 

Moon in Gemini: You are witty, clever, funny, and always want to be mentally stimulated. Since the moon sign is about emotions, with this placement you may find yourself over analyzing your thoughts to the point that you try to rationalize your emotions in a logical manner instead of just feeling. There’s a lot going on in your mind, as most air signs, but since you carry the twin personality, it can be more intense for you. Take a breather and remember that everything will be okay. There’s nothing a good conversation can’t fix.

Moon in Cancer: Very in tune with your emotions, you can soak up any feeling, whether good or bad, like a sponge. Because of this you can become irritable to those who do not understand your emotions because you wish people would be just as understanding as you. However, manipulating people to get what you want out of them is not the greatest idea. Try to be more vocal about your feelings instead of just soaking it all in. You are a very caring person, who is loyal to the end, and because of this people feel very safe and loved around you. 

Moon in Leo: Yes, you thrive off attention, what Leo doesn’t? However, because this is the moon sign, you prefer attention in mainly comfortable situations. At home you are the entertainer and very theatrical in your ways. Very domineering and bossy, you are good at leading others while knowing the importance of being fair. Your appearance is very important to you so you’d rather fake it until you make it instead of showing people how you really feel. A stubborn lion, you do not like to take advice from people but can give it very well so try not to let your ego get the best of you.

Moon in Virgo: You can be your own worst enemy since you criticize yourself the most. Having a low self esteem can bring you down, but don’t be so hard on yourself you are doing the best you can. Living a life of routine makes you happy and feel secure and there is nothing wrong with that. You show your love through action and have an undying love for those you care about. So much so that you voluntarily go the extra mile for them. People admire this about you, but don’t let them take advantage of you either. Learn to take care of yourself the same way you do for others. 

Moon in Libra: Dependency on another person is what you crave. This is not a bad thing, but it leaves you feeling very lonely when you’re not around someone you care about. Very indecisive, you never know what you want often looking for answers in other people, but remember that you know what is best for yourself. You are social, charismatic, and bring peace to those around you. People feel comfortable around you because you have the skill of changing yourself for the benefit of the other person. You can be flirty with just about anyone but at the end of the day intellectual conversations stimulate you best. 

Moon in Scorpio: Emotions are felt very intensely with this placement.You either love something or hate it. Like Aquarius you find interest in the odd and eccentric. Your intuition can be very strong and you show this by picking up the emotions of others. Your life can be all over the place because you aren’t happy living a normal life so you thrive in drama and chaos. You can be intimidating because what Scorpio isn’t? Stubborn but loyal and passionate, when you want something, once you get it, you will never let it go.

Moon In Sagittarius: Upbeat, happy, and optimistic, you believe there is a bright side to everything. You have the power of chilling everyone out so people enjoy your company because it’s full of good energy. An adventurer, you love exploring and getting to know the great outdoors. You can be quite athletic since you are for the most time on your feet doing something active. You are not afraid of commitment but refuse to settle down because you know life has so much to offer and you don’t want anyone or anything holding you back. Freedom is your happiness.

Moon in Capricorn: Handling emotions is not your greatest forte. In fact you specialize in hiding your emotions which can be unhealthy and put you in more stress. Try to talk things out with a loved one and you will see how much it can benefit you. Cold and reserved, you are not an affectionate person but show your love by being useful to those you care about. You seek validation through your hard work, possibly becoming a workaholic. Productivity is important to you so you don’t let emotions stop you from achieving success.

Moon in Aquarius: Emotions? Come again? It’s not that you don’t have emotions it’s just that you have mastered the act of not letting them affect you. If something needs to get done it is going to get done regardless of how you feel. However, you must come back in tune with your emotions every once in a while. At your best, you are observant, curious about human nature, and want to learn all their quirks. Because of this, you might give off a superiority complex since you think you know more than others. Being different and going against the norm, in the end, is all you could care about. Optimistic, friendly, and revolutionary, you attract a lot of friends this way.

Moon in Pisces: You are pretty intuitive with not only your emotions, but of those around you as well. You might feel like you can sympathize and literally understand every emotion a person has ever felt. This can cause some sort of psychic ability. As compassionate as you are, people might walk all over you so be cautious of who you open up to. You may find yourself drifting away or day dreaming because you are in awe of all the things the universe has to offer. Lastly, you are a great friend because you can understand everyone’s side and you always try to put yourself in other people’s shoes. 

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine Valentines Challenge - “Tell Me Your Secrets, And Ask Me Your Questions” (Rated NC17)

It's Monday morning, and Kurt is still reeling from his phenomenal weekend with Blaine. But it's time to get back to life as normal. Except, after today, life will be anything but normal ... (3149 words)

Warning - this chapter is where it gets angsty. Please don't hate me. I promise, everything turns out okay in the end :) I don't want to give anything away, but there is a mention of violence and blood, so if you guys are squeamish, just stop reading when Kurt touches his shoulder.

Written for the Klaine Valentines Challenge Prompt Day Thirteen "Yellow" by Coldplay.

Chapter 4 of the story “Come up to Meet You”

Chapter 1 - Come up to Meet You

Chapter 2 - Nobody Said It Was Easy

Chapter 3 - You Don’t Know How Lovely You Are

Read on AO3.

Kurt tugs on his windbreaker, sluggishly marching down the stairs from his cozy, comfortable loft to the harsh, grey outdoors. He grumbles and moans theatrically along the way, which makes his downstairs neighbor, returning from her own morning jog, chuckle.

“Getting started a little late this morning, aren’t we, Mr. Hummel?” she teases.

“Don’t start with me, Mrs. Hildabreg. We can’t all be sprightly, energetic 63-year-olds, you know.”

“83 last May, dear.”

“So you keep telling me, but I don’t believe it. You still training for the Ironman Triathlon?”

“You know it.”

Kurt reluctantly leaves Mrs. Hildabreg behind, even though the scent of fresh baked cinnamon buns floods the hall the moment she opens her door, their sinful aroma luring him back. Kurt knows that if he’s willing to spill a little tea about the goings on at Vogue, she’d be more than happy to offer him one. He’s dodged many a morning jog that way before. If it wasn’t for his afternoon Spin class and his evening yoga, he’d be done for. But besides her genius baking skills, he enjoys their talks. Mrs. Hildabreg adopted him as her bestie after his left for L.A.. Lonely people can sense loneliness in others, it seems, so they tend to cling together like the last few Cheerios in the bowl.

But Kurt has to be strong this once. He doesn’t want to go on a morning jog, but he needs to get back in the swing. He indulged too much this weekend. Not on sweets. On Blaine. Kurt spent too much time in bed with Blaine sleeping late and too little time on his calisthenics.

That’s okay. He figures the amount of cardio he got having sex makes up for it.

Kurt sticks his earbuds in his ears and fiddles with his iPod to keep his mind off the impending cold. He feels it creeping into the hallway underneath the front door the closer he gets. It’s almost foreboding the way it sneaks up on him. He skips through the menu to his “Diva Playlist”, needing his carefully constructed mixture of Beyoncé, Aretha, and Whitney to get his heart pumping. Icy air hits him like a wall the second he steps out the door of his building and onto the sidewalk, but at the same time, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulls it out, already knowing who it’s going to be.

And that makes his chest feel instantly warm.

From: Blaine

So, when do I get to see you again?

Kurt reads this ridiculous message, sent by his adorably ridiculous boyfriend, and smiles.

From: Kurt

You just saw me this weekend. A lot of me, I might add. Aren’t you tired of me yet?

Kurt steps out of the doorway as he waits for a reply. He could swear someone had wanted to get by. He feels eyes on him, but no one walks past.

From: Blaine

Not at all. Need to see you. All the time. I miss you when you’re not around.

Kurt giggles. He’s about to send back a message about this obsession of Blaine’s being unhealthy, but he changes gears. He doesn’t want Blaine to think for one second that he equates Blaine’s cute comments with the aggravating messages Blaine still gets from his catfisher.

From: Kurt

Well, that makes two of us, which is why I’m having dinner with you tonight.

Kurt doesn’t think Blaine waits half a minute between getting his message, reading it, and sending a reply.

From: Blaine

Not soon enough.

Kurt can’t judge Blaine on the speed in which he replies since Kurt is already typing a response, having anticipated Blaine’s answer.

From: Kurt

What if I tell you that you get to have me for dessert?

There’s an actual pause between messages. Kurt can imagine the look on Blaine’s face when that message comes through.

From: Blaine

I can wait.

Kurt laughs out loud, that warmth in his chest spreading out to his limbs. If he had to sum up how he feels in one word, it would be yellow. Yes, with all of the romantic, evocative words in the English language, he picks one as juvenile yellow. Other words might fight to take its place and come close, but yellow fits so perfectly. Yellow makes Kurt think of spring and the sun, and he feels like the sun is shining just for him. The stars, too. And even though he’s exhausted right now, he feels beautiful, happy and energetic, like he can run and jump and swim for miles. He feels desired and safe and loved. Blaine brought that into his life.

Blaine makes him feel this way.

“Kurt? Kurt Hummel?”

Kurt pulls an earbud from his ear when he hears his name, a bizarre sense of déjà vu looming over him. He looks up, searching for a face to match the voice. There’s quite a few people out and about at this hour of the morning. It’s Monday, and most everyone in New York is on their way to work. But Kurt’s eyes are immediately drawn to the only other person standing around. He’s propped against a lamp post, smoking a cigarette, flicking the end with his thumb like a nervous tick though he seems far from nervous. He’s about Blaine’s height, with wavy brown hair, and deep set cognac eyes.

They would be beautiful eyes, Kurt thinks, if they weren’t glaring at him like this man wants to take Kurt’s head off.

“Kurt Hummel?” the man repeats again, tossing the cigarette butt to the floor, not bothering to crush it.

Kurt looks him over from head to toe. He doesn’t know how long the man has been standing there, but Kurt gets the impression from the mess of discarded butts littering the ground at his feet that he’s been there a while 

Kurt hopes he’s not another victim of the catfisher. Kurt only has one heart, and he’s already given it away.

But Kurt thinks not. The way the man stares, Kurt doesn’t want to give him an answer.

“That’s me,” Kurt says anyway since it’s obvious this man already knows. Why would he wait out here in the cold otherwise? “And you are …?

“Eli.” He leaves it at that. No last name. No other identifying information. Just Eli.

Kurt doesn’t remember ever meeting an Eli.

“Do I know you?” Kurt asks.

“No,” Eli says. Annoyed, he pushes off the lamp post. “But you know my boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend?” Kurt scrunches his nose, confused, but realization dawns fast. “You’re … you’re him, aren’t you? The person who’s been catfishing Blaine.”

“I haven’t been catfishing him,” Eli sneers. “I’ve been trying to contact him, but he won’t talk to me anymore. He won’t talk to me because of you. You took him away from me.”

“I didn’t take him away from you. He was never yours to begin with.”

It hits Kurt after snapping that he should watch his tone. He doesn’t want to provoke this man. Kurt doesn’t know whether or not he’s dangerous. Everything about Eli unnerves Kurt - his constant running a hand through his hair, his eyes darting left and right as people walk by, shifting on his feet as if he’s preparing to barrel forward but only barely stopping himself.

But it’s the way he slides his hand to the back of his waist band - like he’s reaching for something beneath his jacket - that has the hairs at the nape of Kurt’s neck bristling.

Kurt wants to look this man in the eyes, wants to show Eli that he won’t be bullied, but his eyes drift to that hand every time it moves.

“That’s not true,” Eli argues. “We’ve been together … in real life. We’ve met. We’ve even been intimate.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” Kurt says with a scornful laugh, but the minute the words leave his mouth, he knows they’re true. That’s how the catfisher got Blaine’s number. It wasn’t some random person lifting it off of his notice on the bulletin boards.

Blaine actually knows him.

“We were both lonely,” Eli explains, “both in pain. We understand each other. I need him and he needs me, so you need to back off.”

“Excuse me? I need to what now?” Kurt blurts out, anger continuing on where common sense might have stepped down. He can’t help himself. On the one hand, Kurt knows he’s putting himself in harm’s way if this man intends on attacking him. On the other hand, how dare Eli? How dare he show up at Kurt’s home, of all places, and try to drive a wedge in his new, wonderful relationship? “If the two of you need each other so badly, understand each other, then why have you been lying to him? And using my face to do it? Which, by the way, makes you one of my least favorite people in the world.”

“That’s just a … it’s a big misunderstanding. A joke that went too far,” Eli demands, taking that step forward that Kurt has been dreading. Kurt’s outside his building with his back against the wall. The two of them might be physically matched, but this definitely puts Kurt at a disadvantage. One too many run-ins with high school bullies taught him to never let anyone back him up against a wall. “I had him first!”

“Are you calling dibs? What are you? Twelve?” Kurt feels this argument escalating but he can’t stop it. He doesn’t want to. He wants this man to make a move so that he and Blaine will have something to show the police. Maybe a black eye and a broken nose along with a handful of witnesses will finally get them off their asses to do something about Eli.

Eli takes another step forward, hands balled into fists, and Kurt braces himself. This is it. Eli’s going to punch him. Kurt sees a few people cross the street in his direction, eyes popping open as they take notice. Excellent. Kurt just has to make sure that his head doesn’t hit the wall behind him and knock him out. But mid-lunge, Eli stops. His hands relax. He stands upright, takes a casual step back, and crosses his arms over his chest. Kurt sees the man’s train of thought switch tracks, his expression go from livid to haughty in a blink. The transformation is expert … and terrifying. “Come on, Kurt,” he says, and even his voice sounds changed. “You work at Vogue, surrounded by handsome models. You can probably have a different guy every night if you wanted. You don’t really want my sloppy seconds, do you?”

“So, you’re slut shaming Blaine now? Is that it? That’s how much you need him? He’s a grown man! What he did before he met me doesn’t concern me … except maybe making sure he doesn’t have anything contagious.” Kurt tosses that remark in to re-stoke Eli’s ire. If he can only get Eli to take a swing at him … “Besides, I have him now.” Kurt doesn’t know what gets into him. This plan is crazy! He should stop now and call the police. But he’s so wrapped up in his venom for this man that he just wants to bury his needles into him. “I’ve been having him all weekend long.”

Kurt licks his lips and gives Eli a wink.

Eli’s eyes go from calculating slits to furious saucers. “You’re lying!”

“You saw the picture. You tell me.”

“Blaine wouldn’t go for someone as trashy and vulgar as you!”

“Is that why you picked my picture? Huh? From the millions of people in New York that you could pretend to be, you picked me because I’m trashy and vulgar? You don’t get to have it both ways, Eli. You don’t get to use my face and then insult me. And guess what? If I am trashy and vulgar, then Blaine likes trashy and vulgar because he’s going out with me. Me! Not you. Me.” Eli opens his mouth to interject. Kurt doesn’t give him the chance. “Blaine Anderson is an amazing, incredible man. I don’t know why the two of you aren’t together, and I don’t care, but you might know that for yourself if you were honest with him. But you can’t even be honest with yourself. Lesson learned. You’ll know for next time, but not with Blaine. Because I’m not giving him up for anything in the world.”

“Fine.” Eli’s face becomes hard, his mouth a grim line. “You want him so badly, you can have him.”

“Like I need your permission. I’m out of here. And like I said before, kindly fuck off.” Kurt rolls his eyes and storms off. He knows he shouldn’t. A voice in his head is screaming at him - Don’t turn your back on him! Don’t leave without calling the police! He knows where you live! He’ll be back! He'll break in! But his plan isn’t working. There’s too much adrenaline pumping through Kurt’s body right now, and he needs to get away.

He needs to put some distance between them before he does something rash.

He has a life to live, and he can’t derail it for this one disturbed man.

“Great. Fine. You guys win. Are you happy now?” Kurt hears the words closing in behind him, a persistent mumble in Eli’s grating voice. “You got an amazing, incredible man, and Blaine got the man of his dreams ... that doesn’t mean he gets to keep you.”

Kurt, phone still in hand, finally starts calling the police. That’s what he should have done from the beginning. He knows he’ll hear about that later – from the cops, from his dad, from Blaine. He’ll hear about it when this is all a distant memory. He’ll recount the story of coming out of his building to see Eli standing there, eyes set to kill, and he and Blaine will have a laugh about crazy exes. Blaine will tell him everything, tell him how he had to leave Eli because Eli is sick, he’s toxic. And if Blaine hadn’t been 100% certain of his decision to leave the man before, the catfishing and the stalking proved it. And thank God he got out of there before anything serious happened.

“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”

“Yeah, hi, my name is Kurt Hummel. I live in Bushwick, and I’m being chased down the street by my boyfriend’s ex …”

Kurt listens for the operator, but something drowns her out - a loud noise, like a jogger running into a metal trash can, then a scream. Probably the person who hit the trash can, Kurt thinks. Something hits his right shoulder, hard enough to knock him forward a step. Rocks. The asshole’s throwing rocks. What does he think that’s going to accomplish? It's definitely getting people’s attention because Kurt hears random yells of, “What the …?”, “Look out!”, “Oh my God! Stop him!” and “He’s bleeding!”

He’s bleeding? Kurt stutters another step. He feels warm and wet run down his arm, an ache in his shoulder he was about to write off to the cold morning and his stiff, sex-strained joints. He puts his left hand up to his right shoulder to investigate. His shoulder screams the second he touches it. Kurt drops his phone. He’d tried to wrap his fingers around it, but they wouldn’t work, and he just can’t seem to hold it anymore.

He pulls his left hand away and sees it. He knew it was there – his mind did, but his eyes hadn’t seen it yet. Blood. And the second his eyes see it, his brain confirms it, and a crippling pain spirals down his arm and through his chest. He tries to take another step, but he can’t, not even stuttered ones. Instead, his knees give out and he falls, the world spinning by on only half speed as he plummets to the ground. He hears more screams. One of them may be his own. He’s not sure. But there are plenty of them to go around so one of them must be. He hears running footsteps, and something that might be another trash can knock over, only it’s not a trash can. Kurt knows it’s not. He knows it never was.

“Out of the way! Out of the way! I’m a doctor,” he hears, or does he hear it? Is it his mind replaying the last movie he saw where someone got hurt and a doctor ran out of the crowd to help? Do doctors do that in real life, or is that just a Hollywood thing?

“Did anyone see what happened?”

A coat is draped over his legs, but he only feels the pressure. Not the warmth. His legs have gone numb. His mind is going numb. His shoulder burns like someone has stuck a poker inside it and is tearing it apart. The rest of him feels nauseous, more and more dizzy and sick with every heartbeat pushing a new river of blood down his arm.

Will his heart push it all out? How much does he have left?

“Some guy just walked up behind him and shot him!”

“No, no, they were fighting, and then he shot him!”

“You! In the blue hat! Call 9-1-1!”

“I already called them!”

“Good. That’s good. Sir? Sir, can you hear me? What’s your name? Do you know who shot you? No, no, no, keep your eyes open. Look at me. Blink if you can hear me. Sir? Sir? Does anyone know who this man is?”

“I do!” an older woman’s voice cuts in, the scent of cinnamon buns and memories of long conversations following behind her. “Kurt! Kurt, what happened!? Kurt, talk to me, honey! Kurt! Kur …”

Kurt wants to say something, but the numbness in his head has traveled to his tongue, leaving his mouth dry and his lips heavy. If he could say something, he’d just scream. The intense pain in his shoulder seems to insist on it. But he can’t scream, because he can’t breathe. And if he could breathe, he’d just throw up, bile working its way up from his stomach as air fights to weave a pathway into his lungs. Shock sets in, and whatever his body’s doing, his mind doesn’t know. That connection has been severed, removing it too far from his conscious to concern him.

Kurt thinks that the world should go black, but it doesn’t. Instead, everything becomes too bright. Loud and bright. The sun, the sidewalk, the people, the sky. He blinks to bring the world back into focus, but it refuses. It wants to remain fuzzy, and Kurt can’t seem to convince it otherwise.

He closes his eyes to shut out the bright, expecting nice, soothing dark, but all he sees is yellow.

[rolandfontana]

Eight+ Things to Read About China and Other Things, Part 4

This is part 4 of our series listing out eight+ things to read about China and a lot more. We constantly get emails from readers asking what to read on China and all sorts of things related and even barely related to China and the plan of this series would be to constantly and consistently answer this very question. We also have a few very loyal readers who often send us truly great articles on China (and other things). We owe these unpaid and truly superb researchers a big debt and this week’s post is dedicated to them!

As I said in our initial post on this, our plan is to list out eight (or so) articles we benefitted from reading and think you our readers would also benefit from reading, along with a very brief explanation why the particular article was included. More specifically:

The articles will likely include many on China and on Asia and a few on international trade, international politics, Spain and Latin America, economics and really just anything else we believe might benefit our readers or even that we just want people to read. We do not plan to choose articles that push our or any other political agenda or any other agenda for that matter, but having said that, we are not objective and our views may creep through. Our goal though is to focus on articles that are important or helpful or — most importantly — that make you think. Our posting of an article will NOT mean we agree with all of it or even any of it. Most of the articles will be from the week preceding the post but we will also sometimes throw in older articles (classics if you will) as well.

Please do not hesitate to comment at the end of this or any other post. We cannot tell you how much we appreciate your comments, good, bad and indifferent.

Here we go, in absolutely no particular order.

1. Trump Trade War Starts to Threaten Hollywood’s Business in China. Variety Magazine. Because this article highlights China doing what China always does, which is to block foreign companies from doing certain things but do it in a surreptitious way so it can claim it isn’t really doing anything at all. As per our lead China movie and entertainment lawyer, Mathew Alderson, China has instituted “a de facto ban on U.S. content in the theatrical and streaming sectors . . .  . without writing anything down.” China has down the same thing with canola oil from Canada. See PM worries China could target more Canadian goods as fears about soybeans rise. 

2. Sudan crisis: Military arrests opposition figures after mediation bid. BBC. Because the world needs to know what is happening in the Sudan and the U.S. media has utterly failed to cover this story. Because China and Russia are helping to prop up the dictatorial regime there.

3. 1 in 5 corporations say China has stolen their IP within the last year: CNBC. Because anyone who says China IP theft isn’t rampant either does not know or is not telling the truth. Because if the question were attempted IP theft the number would likely be four or even five out of five.

4. I Can No Longer Continue to Live Here. Politico. Because no matter your position on immigration, it is important that you not forget that we are dealing with real life human beings.

5. Decades of Being Wrong About China Should Teach Us Something. Atlantic Magazine. Because, at minimum, reading this article should teach us all at least a bit of humility. Because it reminds me of a great phrase Madeline Albright used at her speech I saw earlier this week to describe what so many are suffering from China these days: “Promise Fatigue.” 

6. Ethiopia and Kenya are struggling to manage debt for their Chinese-built railways. Quartz. Because some countries have benefitted from China’s Belt and Initiative has its plusses and minuses for participating countries.

7. “Flight shame” a threat to airlines as flyers worry about their carbon emissions. Stuff. Because I love trying to be in the forefront of everything and because something like this might have real legs.

8. Online store Gilt is being slammed for listing some clothes for higher prices than their retail value. Business Insider. Because reputation is everything for most businesses. Because this highlights the importance of critical thinking and doing your own research and fact-checking.

9. Why Elizabeth Warren Matters. The Bulwark. Because like her or not, Elizabeth Warren is smarter than hell and does not mess around.

10. A world divided by 5G: Russia’s Huawei deal is the latest sign of an emerging internet iron curtain. CNN. Because this is the new normal. Because this is where the US-China Cold War is inexorably heading.Because the world is going to be divided between mostly authoritarian countries on one side and the West and countries like Japan and Australia on the other side. Because boning up on the US-Russia Cold War will give you a better read of the world we will be facing over the next 10-50 years. Because in my undergraduate class on the US-Russia Cold War I read (and loved) Graham Allison’s Essence of Decision: Explaining the Cuban Missile Crisis and now many are referencing Allison’s latest book, Destined for War: Can America and China Escape Thucydides’s Trap? to explain the US-China Cold War.

Your thoughts?

Eight+ Things to Read About China and Other Things, Part 4 syndicated from https://immigrationattorneyto.wordpress.com/

[thatwritingcorneroftheinter-blog]

A Study in Crossover

This story was originated from the following prompt:

Take your favorite TV show character of all time and put him or her into a different show that you enjoy. The character should be surprised to be in unfamiliar territory, but should interact with the other characters and, if possible, help them solve a problem. You can make up a scene or insert the character into an already existing scene from that show. It’s all up to you.

It was another foggy day in London and there was rain. Quite a lot of it.  

Sherlock was prostrated on the couch, staring at the multiple minimal cracks on the ceiling, wondering when he would have to alert Mrs. Hudson about its imminent crashing down. He came to the conclusion that he had at least 4 weeks, 3 and a half in the worst case scenario. If the upstairs neighbor didn’t decide to throw another one of those wine-tasting parties, maybe even 4 weeks and a half. Sherlock zoned out, considering what his life had become in the past days: staring out the window obsessively, scanning the street for possible clients and failing miserably at it.  

Outside his mind, the room was a mess. Through the entire morning, Sherlock searched his emergency cocaine stashes, revolving the fireplace, under the armchairs’ cushions, inside the old slippers by the window frame, underneath the fridge and even under the loose floorboard where he used to put the violin case.  

“John did find them, after all”, he thought. Rising up from the couch, Sherlock paced around the room, joining hands behind his back, his mind floating anywhere but his small flat in Baker Street. With the robe fluttering around his ankles, he considered a new search, this time for the handgun stuck inside the bed frame, by the bedroom. Surely, John would have taken away that boredom relief mechanism too, but one last small pursue wouldn’t hurt anyone but his own sense of self-government. To think that John and Mrs. Hudson have been conspiring against him on his back, planning malignantly to strip him away from his recreational activities – which John referred to as “snorting and shooting” – was outrageous. No clients, no opportunities to exercise his mental prowess, no cocaine and no blowing holes in the walls. Nonsense.  

John allowed him his nicotine patches, supported by Mrs. Hudson, who was never a fan of the pipe. However, the patches were long gone and leaving the flat to do anything that wasn’t nearly as exciting as a case was not on Sherlock’s plans. He walked around as much as he could, but the cold weather outside prevented him of sweating and feeling some of the physical exercise. Being as aggravated as he was, meditation wasn’t an option either.

Walking over the armchair close to the main window and jumping its backrest, Sherlock positioned himself once again against the window sill, arms crossed, as if defying the World to bring him something, anything. The game was not afoot, at least for now.

As if deciding to play his game, the World made noises downstairs. 

Walking across the living room and leaning against the door, Sherlock heard voices, one of them clearly Mrs. Hudson’s voice. The other one belonged to a man, probably young and absolutely American. Although his voice was clear, he couldn’t make out what the stranger was looking for. Mrs. Hudson didn’t welcome many guests through the years Sherlock has been her tenant, so this American man wasn’t her concern; he was obviously a client. “Just send him up already”, Sherlock muttered, hands around his ear on the door.

The man kept talking and Mrs. Hudson laughed. Sherlock sighed. Judging by the stranger’s steps climbing up the stairs, he was a lean man using heavy clothes, probably a rain jacket, considering the weather. Sherlock was confused by the lack of damp sounds, as if his overcoat wasn’t wet, which could be easily explained by a cab ride.  Nevermind a cab, he never saw one. Actually, he saw no one at all roaming the street, which was odd, given the fact that there was a man on his doormat right now.

There was a knock.

Sherlock straightened himself, much like a meerkat. Softly walking to the armchair, he rapidly sat down and lifted his legs over the padded footrest.  “Come in.”

The man that walked in was impossible.

“Hello, William Sherlock Scott Holmes.”

Never forgetting to pose, Sherlock placed his hands under his chin, fingers intertwined. “If you intend to surprise me calling me by my full name, you’ve failed. Please, have a seat”, Sherlock said, nodding towards the chair, in the middle of the room.

“I don’t have obscure intentions, William Sherlock Scott Holmes. I need your help”, the man walked the room, his eyes floating around the place, never focusing on anything particularly, until he sat down. “I am Castiel and I’m an angel of the Lord.”

The silence became very palpable.

“I see.”, Sherlock finally broke the silent spell.

“You do?”

“Yes. And I am the Queen of England.”

“No, you are not, William Sherlock Scott Holmes.” His face was as blank as the wall behind him. As a matter of fact, the wall had more personality than him, riddled with bullets as it was. The sprayed smiley face was a nice touch of modern décor.

“How did you get here?” Sherlock put his feet down, placing his elbows on both knees and scrutinizing the stranger. “You didn’t walk. You didn’t take a cab. You clearly don’t own a car. You keep calling by my full name even though you’ve never said yours.”

“I am Castiel. I’m an angel of the Lord. And I flew, or as humans tend to classify, I teleported.”

“Oh yes, surely. Now, if you excuse me, I rather die of boredom than engage in this little theatrical you’re trying to lure me into. Farewell.” Standing up, Sherlock walked to the kitchen, leaving the stranger frowning his strange forehead at his back.

“I don’t understand. The Winchesters told me you could help. Why should I leave?”

In the kitchen, the clinking of teacups started and Sherlock had already erased the stranger of his mind as a potential client. The boredom was returning, that hateful immortal enemy.

"Well, first, my time is much more precious than anything else you might want to offer me for it, and second", he said, stirring the tea and watching the vapor rise, "the tea will get cold. Have a nice day, Mr. Castiel, an Angel of the Lord."

Sherlock motioned his head towards the door, as to pointing the stranger his cue to leave.

"No? Fine then, stay. But let us skip this nonsense concerning angels and Lords and whatnots. Please, do get to the matters at hand."

"There are no matters in my hands." Castiel stared at his own hands, mesmerized and confused.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and cleared out his throat.

"What I cleary meant to say was for you to continue, sparing me of your nonsense."

Castiel blinked as if he was thinking deeply about it and spoke.

"God is missing. No one knows where He is and the Winchesters told me of a man that could find anything. Perhaps even God."

Sherlock was unmoved.

"I do understand this is merely a story in a book, but perhaps you could hear the clues and give me the answer as to where God is."  

"A story in a book?"

"Yes."

"… What is?"

"You are."

Sherlock sighed.

"Are you in use of any type of hallucinogenic, Mr. Castiel?"

"I don’t understand."

"Because you do sound quite mentally unstable to me."

"You, Sherlock Holmes, are a story inside a book. I came here to ask for your help to find God. That is all. And I am also not using drugs. Will you help me?"

"Surely."

Sherlock placed the teacup at the table in front of him, walking towards the fireplace and taking a fire stoker. 

Turning around and approaching Castiel, he knocked him in the head. The stranger passed out and fell face first on the floor.

Putting aside de fire stoker, Sherlock took his phone from his robe's pocket and started texting.

"There is a man in the flat who might know more about that book you've found.

Come at once if convenient. If inconvenient, come all the same.

- S "

[sagastar-blog]

MemoToTheMeaVeTarusssss uuuuss sssss hissSSS[ 3.1, “The Tape Unwinds for a Moment”

This announcement just made for those aboard SpaceShip Earth, at 6:13 CNJ Standard Time on Sunday December 3, 2017: DINNER WILL BE SERVED PROMPTLY BEFORE THE START OF THE SHOW, LIKE, EVERYNIGHT WE PROMISE, ammMMMaterATsu WHISPERED GENTLY TO GAIA. YOU are aboard Amida Airlines Flight 3858 with service to Chicago direct from Newark International Airport. The year is 2009 and we are heading home to the windy city on tonight’s episode of Epic “Jeff Nostalgia!” Hooooray! Gaia has puppet she calls Daddy, but it’s best not to describe what kind of puppet this is. Let’s just say it runs on batteries and is made with sleek lines. 

This is how we sleep. In a crumpled up little pile! Jeff curled up Lucius in a ball and wrestled him to the cushion of the BKCS car’s bland, yet sceptic interior. Lloyd seems to have stolen an honor that was supposed to go to a guy like Liam from Oasis, but in a much more abstract way than in the Lloyd/Dude from the Shins/Black Keys, do you know what I mean? Like, sometimes they send me people based on race, language, ethnicity, or some other politically correct reason, or they’re making some political statement or following some incredibly insulting principle. But sometimes they send people who are actual people...I can’t make distinctions between all of you at every level. Not quite yet. However, I think it would be a lot easier if you’d just admit that we all sleep in a pile and you should get comfortable with me by, you know, treating me like someone who matters in....I dunno...the context of world history? 

Jeff makes an aside: (Seriously, guys cut that shit out. Your ‘social conduct” algorhythms are all off and your pedagogy is beyond hubris, AND they have been since Day 1. You treat me like I’m supposed to learn something from you? My interactions with people will not continue to be reduced to awkward exchanges in which I feel terrible for accidentally insulting someone on a profound level. You cannot deprive me of genuine interactions with people. You need to put me in an environment in which people know who and what I am and recognize me as who and what I am.)

Gaia: And without further ado, here is the playlist for our world tour, which should have been Phase 1 of The Denebolization of Planet Earth...in other words, yeah, something that should have been done years ago, not several years after my ilLumination. We’re extremely bitter about this.

Jeff:  But happy to have the following tour all mapped out! So glad you can be on board AmidaAirlines Flight 389r57 here, Lucius the Pilot at the helm, as always; Jeff and Gaia in the copilot’s chair, let’s just say they’re tired and underworked. Now! We begin with Neil Young with, Everybody Knows This is Nowhere.”

In Copernamici, you see, music is very important. You have to worship the cosmos in pure form, and although sight is primary, it’s really music, not math, that is the true language of the universe.

We’re on our way to Chicago, and sing “Too Far Apart” on board the plane, which flies directly from Newark International to Midway. We’re there to go back and visit all the places that are important in your life, in daddy’s life, and even in daddy and ader’s life together back when we lived together. 

While in Chicago we do so many awesome and fun things, like visit The Point where I used to go swimming and running; the lakepath and the museum campus are nice and there’s the beluga whales and even the observatory o’erlooking Navy Pier! Let’s listen to some more music. 

Gaia: Don’t you just love it when he tells you a bedtime story, Lucius?

Jeff: i love having happy thoughts: I have so many wonderful plans for the future for everyone. But, I also have ways of escaping from the torture I’ve had to endure for the past 4 years. Since awakening, I’ve been kept away from my son despite having done nothing to deserve this. I have protested as loudly as possible to anyone who will listen for four years. There is no reason for me to be TOO FAR APART from my own kid. No matter what anyone thinks of me or my writing, I have rights. I can’t help but feel like you think that I have something to learn from you. 

Gaia, Amat, and the all the infinite number of stars in this particular universe speak: He does not. 

Jeff: (now speaking directly into the microphone connected to SpaceShipEarth’s PA System) Do you guys know what a gamma ray is? I dream about how beautiful this kind of thing is on a nightly basis. Some nights, it’s absolutely terrifying. Most nights it’s awesome. I suggest to you that you mistake me for something I’m not.

Gaia: Logic8l,

Jeff: Don’t forget, you guys have highjacked my ship. But it’s only going to last another few years--either I will die unrecognized or your civilization is going to make life extremely unpleasant and eventually impossible for a large number of you, probably more than half of you. This will happen if you do not begin to recognize your only error. You have never made an error as a civilization, and therefore you are still her. This will not be true for much longer. I am here as a part of the Earth’s self-preservation instinct and as a force of my own personal will. I do not have to stay here. And at this rate, I will not stay any longer than I have to in order to complete my work. Right now, I have no work. That’s a problem for you. It shouldn’t be difficult to solve. Offer me a job as the pilot of your pilot and the leader of this world. I am not running for office or applying for a position. I am telling you what to do. Now do it.

Gaia: He sounds serious!

Jeff: Well, you’ve highjacked my ship. I should be doing things that are important. There is no virtue in you continuing to pretend that I have something to learn from you. There is a way you should behaving around me, and you’re not doing it. I cannot know why. But I reached a threshold recently and this morning in John Foxe mode I behaved badly. I do not want to have to live in fear of myself and so I ask that you kindly...TAKE ALL THE FOOD YOU WANT AT THE VEGETARIAN BUFFET AND HAVE AS MANY DRINKS AS YOU WANT aboard Flight 3209 aboard AmidaAirlines with continuing service to 

warm nostalgic San Antonio, TX, home of happy memories of Jeff and Lucius together doing pre-En*G*Lightenment things (they listen to Girls, Tame Impala, and the 13th Floor Elevators)

Guys, don’t forget...I’m a human being, too. Just because I stumbled upon illumination doesn’t mean I don’t get to do perfectly normal things like the rest of you. I haven’t had a real vacation in I literally can’t remember my last vacation...and no, Miami, FL, a cesspool of ungodly proportions, does not count. Don’t get me started on the state of Key West as a natural place. You humans are so disappointing to us.

...followed by Rhode Island and Southeastern Mass., and Boston! (Jonathan Richman and the Modern Lovers)

Gaia: And that’s just leg 1. Sometimes you people mistake time as something that doesn’t exist because of what you call “mindfulness” as an approach to living. While it’s true that time does not exist, this only makes it all the more problematic that you’re guilty of wasting it. 

Jeff: You have run out of time. Just because I will not be doing John Foxe in public anymore does not mean that I will allow you to commandeer my ship without me explaining to you that you’re endangering my plan to save you. 

My work is to save you. Please understand that in order to save you, I must protect myself. I am trying to protect myself from you at all times for legitimate reasons. You don’t understand how the human brain (or maybe it’s just mine) works. Please allow me to take more pleasure out of life. The only way you can do this is by helping me engage my intellect. This is not possible with people in the way you have me do things, whether it’s at Fairleigh Dickinson or C2 (same thing, the former is slightly more torturous than the latter), or in public as in on trains, etc. There is simply too much illness and ugliness (I know this must sound offensive, but please try to understand that for 4 years, as a disciple of oh say Lucretius, I’m highly attuned to traits and qualities in ANYTHING I find “attractive”--see the ScuttleButt and please footnote MetricAss Theory of Gravitation, btw, okaythanksbye) in my world in proportion to anything soul-nourishing. You must understand that I’m extremely sensitive, and I HAVE THE RIGHT TO BE this way. If you’re trying to teach me some lesson in TOLERANCE, please stop! I am virtue incarnate and am trying to preserve parts of me that need protection. This is my right as a human, and you cannot violate it by exposing me to theatrical scenarios all the time! I need reassurance that you’re being real with me because the world does not make sense when I’m not the explicit and recognized center of attention in a room. It cannot be otherwise. Think now of Copernicus. Jeff hates being the center of attention...that’s why I’m Just Jeff.

Guys, I’m modesty incarnate and I’m ruthlessly mocked for it for 39 years.

I have learned to stick up for myself and to be proud of what and who I am.

It is a fact that I am not allowed to see my son. It’s a fact that I lived in a homeless shelter this past summer, not as a performance stunt or as a way of learning and then teaching something. You wouldn’t dare suggest that, would you? No. That happened. I insist always on reason, logic, reality: staying grounded.

If you find it amusing that I enjoy and benefit from smoking marijuana, get over it and used to it. The amount I smoke is unbelievably little. 

Gaia: Like, literally, you wouldn’t believe how little he smokes at a time! 

Jeff: You’re so much more of a pothead than I am, it’s insane, but anyway...listen. I have never done anything wrong. Not only this, but i am the world’s best and nicest person. You wouldn’t know this how I’ve been acting for the past four years because I’ve achieved something very rare and precious. It would be incredibly wrong and selfish of me to at any point allow you to take this from me. Because in doing so, you take it from yourselves in the form of human history. I will not allow you to continue bringing shame upon yourselves by treating the Earth the way you do and, more urgently, the way you treat me and the values, ideals, people, deeds, and places for which I speak.

Again, I haven’t seen my son in 4 years. This alone is enough to convince me that you don’t know or don’t like what I am. Which it is is irrelevant. I deal with reality. I will continue to defend what I know is just and right. 

I never needed a lesson on the value of freedom because I’ve always known that I am JustJeff, and what is freedom without justice except a mockery of nature? See my article on The Tempest, another unappreciated work of En*G*Lightenment that you people refuse to acknowledge as historically important! 

Gaia: They’ll never learn.