#bathroom equivalent of dancing in the kitchen i guess

[cross-eyed-boy]

need someone to do silly dances with me when we brush our teeth

[straykats]

This is an other request bc I felt in love with your writing 🥰❤ I hope I don't bother you ♡ A night with Hyunjin after arguing for days and days. They finally talked to each other, and Hyunjin tries to erase his mistake a take a new start. It can be a movie night, a night out or anything... I trust you you'll make the right choice ❤ Thank you if you accept to do this ❤

enjoy!!

———-

As part of a dance crew, Hyunjin practised a lot. five out of seven days, he came home in a new shirt, his sweat-drenched one in his bag. He also tended to fall asleep as soon as he got home, barely managing a shower. His practise paid off, of course, but it seemed like he was always at the dance studio that he was rarely home. 

You couldn’t help but feel bitter as you did the dishes. It was Thursday, the designated date night. But as of the last month or two, it had just been Thursday. It wasn’t a designated date night anymore, because Hyunjin was never home. 

A plate of food had  been left in the fridge for Hyunjin. You were still mad at him - your last words before he left were a little harsh, you admit - but the part of you that loved and cared for him (a pretty large part of you, that is) still wanted to make sure he ate. 

Looking at the clock on the wall, you saw that Hyunjin would be home about an hour for now. Not wanting to have to see him and feel the urge to snap or cry, you decided to turn in for the night. You finished the dishes and made your way to the bathroom. After washing up, you were in bed. 

You checked your phone. He’d be home in about fifteen minutes.

You quickly put your phone down and pull the blanket up to your chin. You wanted to fall asleep before he got home.

Of course, as the universe would have it, that didn’t happen. 

You’re still awake when the front door opens, and when Hyunjin calls out “I’m home.” You’re still awake when the bedroom door opens and his bag falls on the floor with a thump.

“Baby, in bed already?" 

He’s kneeling by your side of the bed, and you knew that if you opened your eyes, his face would be right in front of yours. You feel his hand touch your face, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. You squirm away.

"Go shower or whatever, Hyunjin.”

He’s silent for a few seconds, and you start to think that he had left.

“Are you still mad at me?” His voice is softer, this time, a little sad and a little betrayed.

What annoys you the most, though, is his tone of disbelief.

You open your eyes, pushing yourself up so that you’re leaning on one elbow.

“Can you just go shower, or eat, or just away?” You hated how desperate you sounded to get him away. “I don’t want to argue again, ‘Jin. I’m so tired of you not being home half the time that I don’t know if I even miss you anymore or if this is just so normal now-”

Your words catch in your throat, and you can only hope that Hyunjin can’t see the tears forming in your eyes.

You can see his shoulders rise when he inhales, and then slowly fall with a controlled exhale. “You… Want me to go?”

“Just… go eat and shower and do whatever you need,” you whisper slowly. Sinking back into the bed, you turn your back to him. “I’m not asking you to- to go forever. Just… for now, please.”

“Okay.” You hear him stand up and move to the door. You could feel his eyes on the back of your head, and you imagine him there, looking over his shoudler with one hand on the doorknob. “I love you, y/n.”

Hyunjin spends the majority of the night in the living room, sitting with the TV on mute. The last few weeks had been filled with small arguments about the same topic, and he was, in all honesty, getting tired of it too. He hated arguing with you. He hated when you were angry or sad or hurting. 

And he knew that him being absent all the time made you feel all of these things. 

He came to bed when he was sure you had fallen asleep, and that’s how things were for the next few days. He found himself avoiding you - not because he was angry at you, but because he was angry at himself. 

You noticed it, too. The way he was out of bed earlier than usual, the way he always had some excuse to be out of the apartment (“I need to go pick something up” or “Seungmin asked me to help him with something”) and the way that he couldn’t look at you directly.

This went on for almost a week, and by the time Thursday morning pulls around, you’re sitting with a cup of coffee in your hands and wondering what to order for yourself tonight.

You spend the whole day distracting yourself. There was no need to remember that today was date night, and Hyunjin wouldn’t be home. There was no need to remember that for the last week, you had barely had anything equivalent to a conversation.

It was weird and off-putting to live with someone and not talk to them.

It’s six in the evening when someone knocks at your door.

You’re surprised - you weren’t expecting anyone, unless Hyunjin had invited someone over without telling you… but that wasn’t like him, even if the two of you weren’t talking.

You open the door slowly, peering into the hall, and freeze.

Hyunjin was standing there, white dress shirt tucked into black pants. He had done his hair - it fell in soft waves around his face - and from his ears hung simple, silver earrings.

“What… Did you-” You blink at him, baffled. “Did you forget the pin-code, or…?”

He clears his throat, and for the first time in a long time, he looks you in the eye.

“Y/n, go out with me.”

“We’re- Did you think I broke up with you? I didn’t, ‘Jin-”

Your mind is a mess. To say you’re confused is an understatement.

“No, I meant…” he trails off, his eyes dropping down again. “Go on a date with me, y/n.”

Your heart clenches, and you usher him in. Wordlessly, you go to the bedroom and change. He waits at the kitchen table like a guest; he’s awkward, and you can’t hear a single sound as you get ready.

You step out, and he’s gawking at you as if this was your first date. 

“You look… I mean, you always look amazing, but you look amazing, and now I just sound like an idiot-”

You can’t help but let a small smile grace your features, and Hyunjin seems over the moon at having had a positive effect on you.

“Should- Should we get going?”

You nod, and soon find yourself walking with him down the street.

“Date night, huh? Where are we going?”

The air is cool against your cheek. You’re still a little confused about everything, but with every step, any anger and resentment you had held slowly faded. Tonight. Hyunjin was endearing.

He mumbles something about a restaurant on the next block, and the two of you fall back into an awkward silence.

“Can I… Can I hold your hand?” 

He sounded so nervous and scared that you almost stopped in your tracks. Instead, you thread your fingers through his, and you’re not sure if he let out a sigh or not. 

He takes you to a modern looking restaurant with a high ceiling and dangling lights. It almost made you feel underdressed. The menu had a diverse list of food, and after ordering, you decide to find out what was really going on.

“So, what’s up? Why the sudden… change?”

Hyunjin looks up from his hands, panic in his eyes. “I’m sorry - is this too much? Do you not like it? We can - We can go home, or to another restaurant-”

“Babe, no, it’s fine.” His ears perk at the pet name, relief washing over his features again. “I just meant… You know… After everything, I hoped we would slowly fall back into a normal routine…?”

He lets out a sigh, his bottom lip between his teeth. He places his hands on the table, as if reaching out for yours. You let him hold your hands, your thumbs rubbing along his knuckles.

“I… I know I’ve been ignoring you lately. Not- Not just in the past week.” His ears are an alarming red, and his eyes are focussed on your intertwined hands. You stay silent, urging him to go on. “I know I’ve been ignoring- no, neglecting our relationship too. I’m… really thankful that you’re still here, even after i keep doing what you ask me not to. So I want to… fix things, I guess.”

He pulls his hands away from yours and takes a deep, shuddering breath. When he looks back up at your eyes, he’s sitting straight, his hands in his lap. He looked determined, as if he was at a formal meeting, but you could see the fear and guilt in his eyes.

“I don’t blame you for being angry at me. Not at all. I know I was an idiot and I didn’t understand why you were angry at me the first few times, but I do now. So… y/n,” He closes his eyes for a brief second before continuing. “Will you let me start over and make things right?”

Your lips part. So this is what it was all about. Yes, you had been angry and sad and hurt that he was never home, and that when you asked him to leave you that one night, he really did just leave. You were sad that he had been avoiding you, too. But those feelings had subsided, and had instead been replaced with hope that things would just go back to normal.

“Y/n, angel. Please say something.”

He seemed like he was drawing away, getting smaller and caving in on himself with every second you just stared at him without a word. So you spoke, of course.

“That’s all I want right now, ‘Jinnie. To go back to before the last few weeks.”

The words seem to act like a wrecking ball, breaking whatever cautious wall Hyunjin had built up. He collapses onto the table, his hands catching his head. He pushes them through his hair before looking at you with wide eyes.

“Oh God, okay. Thank you. Thank you so much. I was so worried and scared and I’m sorry for being such a stupid idiot, y/n-” Your eyes widen in shock as he gets up abrudptly and moves around the table, kneeling down next to your chair to hug you. “I’ve missed this so much. I’ve missed you so much, I’ve missed kissing you-” He does just that, his lips pressing against yours once, twice, three times, until you’re a giggling mess. 

He’s about to go in again when someone clears their throat.

“Sir, your food…”

Hyunjin pulls back and stands up straight, arms by his side. His face is set like stone, features unreadable. “Yes. Thank you.”

You laugh as the waiter walks away, and Hyunjin slumps into his chair with a groan. “God, I’m such an idiot, doing that in public.”

“I’m not going to argue with that…” You smile softly when he pouts at you. “But you’re my idiot, Hwang Hyunjin.”

He scoffs. “I love you, y/n.”

“I love you too, baby.”

[jiminscaramel]

[1:08am]

The key rattles in the lock, the bass trembling through the walls and vibrating through the floorboards. You rush to get inside and find out what the racket is about, conscious of the time and worried about what the neighbours will have to say if the noise continues for much longer.

The door swings open with your momentum and the the music hits you full on, ten times louder without the door obstructing the sound waves. You slam it closed behind you and trawl through the apartment looking for Changkyun, ready to chew his ear off, the shredding guitars and rapid drums making the perfect soundtrack.

“Changkyun!” You shout, frantically searching for the remote to the speakers, deciding to turn it off manually when your search turns up nothing. Your ears ring in the silence, the sudden quiet seeming deafening.

In the brief silence, you hear the steady stream of water flowing from the bathroom and see steam pouring out from the ajar door before the music starts up again, startling you right out of your skin. You turn it off again and storm the bathroom, your heart still racing from the scare.

Changkyun shrieks, covering his essentials and you roll your eyes at melodramatic reaction – it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” You watch him shut off the water and reach for his phone, pressing play on the touchscreen. The music starts up a second time and he grins his signature smile of mischief.

“I know what time it is. There’s no law that says I can’t enjoy myself at–” he glances at his phone and checks the time, “–one o’clock in the morning.”

You follow him into the bedroom with a scowl painting your features and your arms crossed. You’re less than impressed. “There may not be a law but there’s this thing called common courtesy.”

“I guess common courtesy doesn’t apply to the dog that keeps us up at night with it’s yowling.” He dries himself off and throws on his loungewear, you closely following suit, desperate to get out of your work clothes.

“It’s a dog, Kyun!” You exclaim with exasperation as you tug your shirt over your head, struggling to be heard over the music. “Like it knows any better.”

“This is just my way of blocking out the noise it makes,” he shrugs. “Besides, I couldn’t sleep.”

“You mean you were waiting up for me.” You tease, grabbing the first sweater you find in your drawers.

“No. I couldn’t sleep– I’ve been looking for that.” He huffs as he notices the sweater you’ve pulled on is one of his favourites.

“It’s mine now.”

“Until I steal it back on laundry day.” He brushes past you and makes a beeline for the kitchen, shouting over his shoulder. “Did you eat?”

You follow and tell him no, you hadn’t had time to eat, your stomach protesting loudly as a not so subtle reminder.

His playlist shifts from heavy metal to hip-hop and trap, a different kind of noise. He has a point, the neighbours aren’t exactly friendly or courteous themselves and so a little rebellion won’t do you (or them) any harm. You just hope none of them are awake at this hour to suffer Changkyun’s crazy taste in music.  

You work side by side in the kitchen, not sure what you’re making but going with the flow, too hungry to care. You belt out the lyrics to almost every song, dancing around in the small space, shredding air guitars and pretending to MC at a rave. By the end, the kitchen resembles a bomb site and you both decide to leave it for the morning.

After waffling down the meal you’d prepared Changkyun disconnects his phone and starts up the machine beside the TV.

“No,” you scoff, placing your beer down on the table. “No.”

“Oh, come on,” he pleads, choosing a song on the karaoke machine.

“I’m too sober.”

“Just one song?” He pouts, eyes upturned into a sickeningly sweet plead. You’d already made enough noise, so what would one more song do?

You hold up a finger and try to emphasise in the most serious voice you can. “Just one song. Just one.” He hands you a mic with a victorious smile and you both spend the better half of ten minutes choosing a one.

Several songs and beers later, you find yourself crashed onto the sofa, Changkyun fast asleep on your chest. The sun winks through the blinds and slowly illuminates the airy apartment as it starts to rise. The start screen music on the karaoke machine repeats, over and over, the electronic melody quickly getting stuck in your head.

You groan at the sudden light, throwing an arm over your face to shield your eyes and chase the last little remnants of sleep. Your mouth feels like a whole ball of cotton has been shoved into it, dry and foul-tasting. Changkyun stirs above you, burying his face into the fabric of your sweater and curling further into the sofa.

You hear the dog yapping out in the hall and assume it’s being taken out for its morning walk. A harsh knock at the door startles you wise awake, following the sound of your letterbox fluttering open and closed as something is slipped into the apartment. The barking and accompanying footsteps eventually fade away down the stairs but not before another letter is posted through the door.

You push Changkyun off and rush to collect the mail, quickly peeping through the spy-hole to check for any unwanted visitors. A haphazardly folded piece of paper lays on the welcome mat, beside an official looking letter. Though upon opening them, they seem to hold the same message.

“Charming,” Changkyun yawns from behind you, reading the folded note over your shoulder. Changkyun’s name is spelt horribly wrong and you’re only referred to as his ‘missus’ while the rest of the note is full of expletives and a threat to report you to the landlord or ‘the higher law’. Changkyun take it out of your hands, assuming he’ll just bin it.

The second, official-looking letter is from the housing association, warning you of noise complaints received from the neighbours and reminding you of the sociable hours. It also advises you to not ‘offend’ again otherwise you’ll fear being ‘penalised’.

“What did I tell you?” You wave the paper around, only mildly frustrated st last nights antics.

“You tell me a lot of things, babe, I just have trouble remembering them.” He quips from the kitchen, digging around the drawers for god knows what.

“What are you doing?”

He pulls out a picture frame from the drawer dedicated to miscellaneous bits and pieces that have no home elsewhere. He carefully removes the backing and places the handwritten note between the glass and the backboard before shutting it closed. He holds it up proudly and grins. “Where should we hang it up?”

“Are you serious?” You ask incredulously, your jaw slack.

“Dead serious. This is equivalent to your first trophy in a video game, we can’t not display it.” He laughs and walks over to the front door peeling off the adhesive backing and sticking it by the key-hook. “Achievement unlocked: Hellraiser.”

[honeymoonjin]

enjoy your stay - chapter seven

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven

A/N - Just for now, I’m trialing not putting in chapter links on this post to see if it helps more people see it since the tumblr search function cuts out posts with links. If there’s not a big difference, I’ll put them in later, but to see the first chapter if you’re a new reader, please click on my blog and check out my masterlist.

Warnings for sexual content in this chapter: public sex, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, dirty talk, mild degradation, dom!Jimin but also slight sub!Jimin (you’ll see).

ENJOY YOUR STAY ↳Boss!Namjoon, Chef!Jin, Receptionist!Hoseok, Bellboy!Jimin, Bartender!Jungkook, Accountant!Yoongi, Photography student!Taehyung ↳Some inappropriate language and cursing. Later chapters have sexual content.

SUMMARY ↳Working the graveyard shift at a hotel isn’t the most exciting job in the world, but your coworkers are certainly happy to have you here.

CHAPTER SEVEN ↳You have a new roommate in your apartment, and you just hope he doesn’t burn the place down while you’re out on your road trip with Jimin.

It only took the energizer bunny a couple hours to move his stuff into the spare room and have some of the lunch (or what was your equivalent of a midnight snack) you made for him before he was acting like he owned the place.

You stood beside the couch, staring in complete bewilderment as he furiously smashed keys on his computer, headphones blasting echoes of gunfire around the small apartment and feet resting on the edge of the coffee table.

He had yet to take notice of you standing there, too hyper-focused on the flashing graphics on his screen. You suddenly felt the urge to call up his parents and ask them how the fuck they did it.

It was time for the two of you to leave for work, and while he was in his uniform, a slick black shirt and pants and his apron wadded up by his freshly shined shoes, but while you were ready to walk out the door, he was immersed in a shootout on your living room couch.

Was it your responsibility to get his attention? Did his parents tap him on the shoulder and send him on his way? You sighed and bent down to wave a single hand in front of his face.

He blinked wildly, and even had the gall to dry and dodge your hand and keep playing for a few seconds before he really paid any attention to what was going on.

He let out a little gasp and paused the game, tossing his laptop on the couch and bounding over to the door. “I have so much more time for activities, noona! This was the best idea ever!”

You flicked him your most convincing smile and took him outside to get in the car. You were beginning to think maybe it wasn’t the best idea ever.

After the two of you arrived back home after an exhausting night, squinting at the rising sun and trying not to scuff your shoes by dragging your feet, you sat him down at the kitchen island and told him some ground rules.

You were leaving in an hour or so to go to Jimin’s house, where he would take you to his competition and back again for the day, and you wanted to make sure Jungkook didn’t burn the apartment down in your wake.

“Okay, no oven while you’re gone, gotcha. Can I use the barbeque?”

You frowned. “I don’t have a barbeque.”

“Yeah, right there.” He gestured, and you followed his gaze.

Your mouth fell open. “You mean the stove?”

“Whatever you want to call it, yeah.”

“N-” You had to stop and take a calming breath before you could continue. “Do not use the stove, Jungkook. You have microwave rights in this house, okay? Anything more advanced than the microwave, don’t touch it.”

“Ah, this is gonna be so sick. Mom and dad never let me stay at home by myself for more than a couple days.” He rocked the stool back and forth and glanced around the apartment. It was basically just two bedrooms, a bathroom, and one big space where the lounge, kitchen and laundry all resided. That didn’t seem to faze him, and you felt like it was probably for the best that he had limited space to roam while you were gone.

“I’m not going to be gone a few days, I’ll be back early next morning.” Namjoon had allowed both you and Jimin a night off for the occasion on the condition that if Jimin won, he had to thank his amazing boss in his speech. Potentially Namjoon didn’t realize it wasn’t the Grammys or the Oscars, and the winners didn’t hold a trophy and give speeches, but what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, or so Jimin claimed.

The two of you would camp out at a hotel in the town over, one Namjoon personally recommended, and head back early the next morning so that you could sneak a nap before work on the Sunday night.

Surely if the doe-eyed kid in front of you could be trusted with an entire shelf of alcohol, he could be trusted to keep your apartment undamaged for twenty-four hours. God, you really hoped so.

Jimin’s house was pretty close to the apartment block, and when you pulled into his driveway he was already sitting on his porch, two massive suitcases propping him up.

The shock that came with seeing him for the first time in casual clothes almost made you crash right into his house when your foot came down on the accelerator instead of the brake, but once you safely parked, and he rolled his luggage over to you, you took the time to fully appreciate it.

He was just wearing a relatively loose white tee and a pair of high waisted jeans rolled up at the ankles, but he looked so good it was almost a crime to stick him in all-black while on duty. The whole bellboy schtick was cool, but the dark colors really took out all the definition. His shirt was thin enough that you could just about see through it when the sun shone right, and you busied yourself with the aircon buttons to avoid drooling.

He seemed a million times more comfortable in regular clothes, and when he hopped into the passenger seat, he gave you a blinding grin. You did your best to return it, but you were more than a little distracted by the way he rested the ankle of one leg over the knee of his other, pulling his jeans taught across his thighs, and the way his hands, now covered with several silver rings of various sizes, squeezed at the muscle absentmindedly.

Or maybe not so absentmindedly. His smile turned mischievous and his eyes glittered.

With a start, you realized he had asked you a question. “Yes, absolutely,” you stammered.

His tongue shot out to wet his bottom lip. “I asked you how you were. But if you’re that eager to get on the road, let’s go.”

You laughed nervously and backed out of the driveway.

“So, what’s your dance like for the competition?” you asked a few minutes later. “Do you make up all the dance moves yourself?”

You had furiously kept your eyes on the road this whole time, but even now you could feel his intense gaze on you. “It’s called choreography, and yes. I’ve been practicing for a few weeks to get it perfect.”

“Do you have a costume?”

“Why, would you like to see me in a leotard?” You spluttered a little, but he chuckled heartily before continuing. “Man, you really know nothing about dance, do you?”

“I haven’t actually seen a proper dance in real life before. Just never got the chance to, I guess.”

“So, I’ll be your first, then?” His tone was deliberately provocative, and the warm palm that came down to rest on your knee certainly didn’t help you concentrate on the road either.

You coughed a little and laughed nervously. “You can turn on the radio, if you’d like.”

“No, thanks.”

“Oh- Okay.” He waited for you to continue your poor attempts at small talk, but you didn’t know what to say anymore. His hand fell away from your leg.

It took almost half an hour of strained silence before you spoke up again. “Look, I’m really sorry if I’m making things awkward. I don’t want to ruin your day.” “Don’t apologize. My day is getting better every minute I spend with you.”

“Well,” you quipped, “maybe I should start charging.”

“I’d pay.”

“I don’t think you could afford me, Jimin. I’m not as cheap as Hoseok.”

He let out a laugh, the both of you relieved that he weird tension in the vehicle had evaporated. “There must be some other way I can repay you,” Jimin simpered in a high-pitched tone.

You snorted. “You can’t offer sexual favors as payment for sexual favors, you idiot. That’s a pretty poor business model.”

“I disagree. I scratch your back, you scratch mine. It’s a very common practice.”

“It’s only worth my time if you give me something that I couldn’t give myself. You’d have to show me something new, otherwise what’s the point?” You risked a glance over to the passenger seat and caught Jimin staring right at you, with a dark look in his eyes.

“There are many things I’d love to show you, baby,” he vowed in a sultry tone.

You were hoping he didn’t see the way your hips shifted, and thighs clenched, but his quiet chuckle told you he probably had.

When you arrived, Jimin directed you straight to the venue where the competitions were being held.

The whole affair was rather dull, at least for you, as he waited in line forever to get forms to fill out, went back in line to hand in the form and get a numbered sticker to slap on his shirt, practiced for a couple hours while you scrolled aimlessly through Twitter, sat through about twenty other dancers before he even went on, and by the time he did it was the sheer power of your horniness that kept your eyes open and focused on him.

There was something magical and extra-seductive about seeing him dance in person. His videos were good, but the flat angle couldn’t really compare to the rolls and turns playing out in three glorious dimensions. It was pure luck that had you swallowing your last gulp of water before he dropped onto his back and thrusted up into the air twice in time to the music. You were certain that if there was anything in your mouth other than your own tongue, you would’ve choked on it at the sight.

Jimin placed third, which, while still an impressive achievement, your vagina found incredibly ridiculous. You drove him, gleaming with sweat and grinning his head off, to the hotel, but he insisted on going in to reception himself.

You acquiesced and waited in the parking lot until he returned.

“So crazy,” he proclaimed, “there’s only one room left, and it’s only got one bed!”

You take a couple seconds to make a show of silently looking around the deserted carpark.

He smacks his lips and laughs a little. “Anyway, let’s go on in.”

The hotel room is nice, but it’s beyond cramped, and you wince as you see the single bed pushed up against the wall. “I’m not doing this,” you say to him as he unloads his suitcases.

“Doing what?”

“I���m not going to do the whole ‘oh, what a shame, we’re stuck in the same bed, let’s have sex’ cliché. It’s unsexy and overused. Work harder, Park Jimin.”

He pauses for a moment, hovering by the foot of the bed. “The lady doesn’t like clichés.”

“No,” you reply flatly.

He sighs but continues setting up the room. Once he’s done, he wipes his palms on his jeans and turns to you with a fresh smile. “Want to go for a dip in the pool?”

You glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Almost eight in the evening. “Can we get something to eat first?”

He shrugs. “The restaurant is buffet-style.”

“Fuck, that’s hot.”

As you had insisted, the two of you didn’t do the hotel room sex cliché that night. You top-and-tailed, one pillow each, and tried to avoid kicking each other in the face.

Both of you were early risers since you hadn’t actually slept during the night in a long time. Jimin took an early morning swim; you, who hadn’t thought to bring a swimsuit, lounged on the warm concrete, swirling your toes across the surface. As much as Jimin insisted pool-sex was definitely sexy and definitely not a cliché, you didn’t fuck then, either, and while keeping your dignity was morally admirable, your metaphorical blue balls made you irritable on the drive home.

Jimin can feel the tension but does nothing to stop it. In fact, you can tell that him offering to drive is just so that you can stare at him more. He fiddles with the rings on his fingers, stretches his neck so you can see his Adam’s apple bob up and down, and clenches the steering wheel so that his biceps flex.

He knows exactly what to do to ramp up your sexual frustration, and he laughs every time you wriggle around in your seat, helpless to do anything about it. Now that you’ve left the privacy of a hotel room, you’ll just have to sit and wait.

You gaze forlornly out the window in a last-ditch attempt to not get too riled up, but a sign that flashes past causes you to gasp.

Jimin glances at you, eyebrows raised. “What is it?”

“Gas station 1km away. Can we pull over?”

“Do you need to pee?”

“Don’t start playing coy now, Park Jimin. I need to fuck you or I’m going to go insane.”

He chokes, murmuring a low ‘fuck, finally’ under his breath before pulling into the gas station as it approaches.

The station itself, much to your dismay, is packed with cars filling up before they head to work for the morning. Instead of parking up front, however, Jimin pulls around behind the building to where the crusty old bathroom is.

It’s pretty out of view, and clearly not in high demand, but you whine at the thought of sharing bodily fluids while in that scummy concrete block.

Jimin hears you and tuts. “Should’ve let me fuck you in the hotel room. Or in the pool.”

The moment the car is in park you jump out and follow him into the bathroom, too aroused to care about anyone seeing you go in together.

The door locks behind the two of you and you whine again. The floors are filthy, and the sink has a concerning green sludge running down the side. “Good luck showing me something new in this hellhole.” You grab the ends of your shirt and lift it over your head.

He grins but doesn’t hesitate before skipping straight to unbuttoning his jeans and tugging the zip down. “It leaves me room for improvement for next time,” he reasons, “now take your pants off.”

You’re too startled at his urgency to protest, and once you get the ends past your sneakers, your jeans are crumpled up on the floor beside your shirt before you know it.

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “Panties.”

You huff a little, sad that he didn’t once comment on the racy black number before telling you to take it off. A little slower, you slip off your panties and take a little extra care to make sure they don’t touch the slightly damp floor and rest on top of your other clothes instead. While you’re at it, you unclip your bra and do the same.

You stand before him in nothing but your shoes, and Jimin, still fully dressed, looks you over, running his gaze over every inch of skin.

You impatiently strut up to him and push at his chest until he allows you to walk him back against the wall.

His eyes haven’t left your body, but when his back hits the concrete he sighs out contentedly. A hand snakes around you, resting on your lower back and pulling you flush against him. The cold metal sends shivers up your spine and your fingers curl up around handfuls of his shirt.

His other hand reaches down to latch on firmly to your ass, and he cranes down to nuzzle into your neck, causing another wave of violent shudders to wrack your body.

While it’s a relatively sunny day, this bathroom block is in shadow behind the main station, and it’s too cold to be naked and not doing anything. You wriggle in his grasp, brushing your chest against the fabric between you until your nipples harden into peaks, more and more sensitive as they stiffen.

“God,” he whispers into your neck, so close that his lips brush against your skin, “I can’t fucking believe you didn’t let me do this in the hotel room.”

You laugh, but it’s more breath than sound, and the only heat that remains is the one blazing between your thighs. “Stop making excuses and just fuck me already. I’m starting to get a little concerned that the whole slutty bellboy thing is overcompensat-”

He doesn’t let you finish your thought, using the hand on your ass to lift you up onto him. You instinctively wrap your legs around his hips, but you don’t have time to process anything before he’s rolling his crotch up into yours in one smooth motion, the coarse fabric of his jeans catching on your swollen clit. “Ah!” Before you can think of muffling the sound, you’re crying out and jerking your hips inwards.

The arm behind your back is the only thing holding you up, and his other hand is clutching firmly onto your ass, so Jimin tips his head down, staring at his crotch before glancing back up with you, pupils blown with lust. “Care to do the honors, baby?”

You acquiesce, reaching down between you two to dip a hand underneath his jeans, bypassing his underwear completely and lifting his heavy cock out of his pants. It’s pretty average in terms of length, but the girth more than makes up for it. Fuck, you want it inside you.

“You know,” you state conversationally, although your voice can’t be much louder than a whisper, “the baby nickname is getting a little old.” You rub the palm of your hand roughly down the underside of his dick, batting your eyes innocently as he curses and chases your touch with his hips. “Maybe you could call me something a little hotter.”

He hums in satisfaction when you spit into your hand and begin to steadily pump him, mouth hanging slightly open in a sinful pout. His lips quirk up into a lazy smile. “Yeah? Would you like it if I called you a slut? A dirty whore that will fuck any of her coworkers if they ask nice enough? I’m sure a chef has talented hands, but you can’t beat a dancer’s hips.”

He lifts you up a little more and begins rutting the side of his cock against your slick lips, but your head tilts back and eyes fall shut at the thought of Jin using his gifted fingers to get you off. He probably had an amazing palate, too. You wonder if he’d like the taste of your-

“Fuck, you are a little slut, thinking about someone else when I’m right fucking here.”

You sigh dreamily and tip your head back down to him, trying to school your expression into something that resembled disappointment. “If I were you, I’d take that as a sign that I wasn’t doing a very good job.”

His eyes darken and the arm around your back slides down to your ass to join the other. You wobble, almost falling backwards before you link your hands around the back of his neck and stare at him in disbelief. You feel him shifting his stance a little below you before his mouth stretches wide in a devious grin. “I’m going to make you wish you never said that.”

Your eyes widen and you throw your head into his neck for more stability a second before he lifts your hips clean off of him, takes a moment to line up, and drops you down onto his cock without mercy.

It doesn’t go deep enough to hit your cervix, but the delicious stretch rips a guttural moan from the back of your throat, and you arch your back, to feel him move inside you.

“Yeah, you like that, baby?” he asks in a gravelly tone. “You like my cock buried inside your tight cunt?” The image of Jimin in his bellboy uniform, teasing you and flirting playfully feels like a world away from this Jimin, balls deep inside you, whispering the filthiest things inside your ear. “I’m feeling extra generous today, so you’re going to be a good little girl for me and take everything I have to give you, won’t you?”

You hum contentedly, enjoying the feeling of his cock pushing up against your g-spot when you tilt your hips just right. Jimin growls, and that’s your only warning before he pulls a hand around to your front and flicks your clit painfully. You cry out, foot shooting out and banging against the wall as you’re hit with the sudden burst of sensation.

“Won’t you?” he asks again in a low tone, giving the raw bud a serious of lighter flicks, enjoying watching your muscles dance at each one.

You whine desperately. “God, yes, I will! Just fuck me, please Jimin!”

He slowly pulls himself out, until only the head remains tucked inside, enjoying the feeling of you clenching desperately around him then snaps his hips, plunging into you yet again and setting a brutal pace. Your fingers curl even tighter into his shirt, knuckles going white, and the grip your legs have around his waist loosen as he drills into you.

Each thrust up into you hits a different place inside you, and you moan in rhythm with his relentless pace, breaking off into a whimper whenever he drags against your g-spot.

As he moves, you feel yourself clenching down on him every time he pulls out, and soon enough he’s panting. “Fuck, baby girl, I’m not gonna last much longer.”

“That’s, ah fuck, that’s not my problem,” you chime, feeling the momentum of pleasure building in your abdomen. Leaning so you’re fully stable against his chest, you reach down a hand and begin massaging your clit desperately, trying to propel yourself over the edge.

He replies in staccato, spitting out a word or two with every thrust. “You’re such a little brat,” he says, bending his knees a little so that he can hold you steady and just fuck up into you.

The increase in tempo, paired with an angle that rubs against your top wall deliciously, is too much for you, and your legs shake wildly as you move the fingers on your clit at a frenzied pace and fall apart in his arms, coming with a long, drawn-out cry.

He rides it out with you, but once you stop shuddering and your vision clears, he pulls out and lets you back down onto the floor gently.

Even after the satisfaction of an orgasm, you still feel a thrumming in your pussy that isn’t helped by the emptiness left behind, but Jimin’s much more desperate than you, running a shaky hand through his hair, head tipped back onto the wall, the other hand jacking off as fast as he can manage.

The sound of your slick as he moves is increased tenfold now that it’s not being muffled by your pussy, and you fix your shirt on the floor in front of him and fall to your knees.

He opens his eyes blearily when you push his hand away but breathes out a high-pitched whine when you take him in your mouth.

You often found guys to taste so much better when they were covered in your arousal, and it meant there was no risk of him cumming inside you, so you were happy to hollow out your cheeks and suck Jimin off, playing gently with his balls as you did just to hear him whine again.

Gone was the alpha male who took what he wanted. The Park Jimin gazing down at you with an open mouth was completely different; soft and needy, and letting out the most beautiful noises.

One of his hands fell to your hair, but instead of holding on so that he could control the blowjob, he brushed your hair away from your face so he could see you better and rested it on your cheek.

The intimate move triggered a warmth in you of a different kind that before, but you put all your focus into chasing his orgasm, using the flat of your tongue to provide some texture. It only took a few moments before the pace of his whimpers sped up. “Ah, ah, please, oh, I’m gonna cum, baby.”

Hot bursts flooded your mouth and ran down your throat. You swallowed around him one last time before pulling off and looking up at him.

He panted for a few seconds, thumb stroking your cheekbone, before he gave you a lazy smile. “It’s fifteen cents off a liter out there, I don’t suppose you need petrol?”

TAGLIST (message me or send an ask if you want to be included in the taglist).

@xxqueenwxtchxx

@fandomarchive00

@cvbachacbitch

@echimozart

[weloveaskamsister]

Incantava Fanfic (sometime between their first date and kiss)

Eleonora was really starting to question her actions as Edoardo Incanti’s swanky house came into view. Another wild party was planned to take place tonight, and all week she had been adamant that she would no way in hell attend – a promise she made to herself. But she seemed to be breaking such promises left, right, and centre these days. Did she want to see him? She’d be lying if she said she didn’t. She was itching to be in his presence again… but she didn’t need to admit that. Eva’s tipsy giggle pulled her out of her trance and Silvia’s hand clutched her own. THAT’S why she shouldn’t be here. Silvia – beautiful Silvia who she loved more than life itself, who just so happened to still be head over heels for the boy. The guilt started to make Ele uncomfortable. She knew if Edoardo got the chance he would be all over her like a rash. He had been every chance he got since she got back to Rome. And what if Silvia saw? No, she’d make sure nothing went down. She would dance and have fun with the girls while admiring Edoardo from a distance. Admiring? No, not admiring, just observing, she thought to herself.

The door was wide open for anyone to waltz right in, and once inside the place was packed, which was saying something considering it was the equivalent of a mansion. The girls quickly ditched their coats and headed to the kitchen for drinks. Eva, Silvia, and Fede were already pretty smashed so Ele and Sana would most likely be taking care of them soon.

At about 11 p.m. Ele lost sight of the girls. She had only had 2 drinks, so her senses were fully intact but a comfortable buzz had settled over her. Really needing to pee she made her way to the bathroom to find a huge queue and some girl ranting about how people were hooking up inside, refusing to unlock the door. Frustrated, she rolled her eyes before noticing Chicco coming downstairs. She knew there was a bathroom upstairs that was probably off limits to anyone outside the precious Villa Boy circle. But she’d be quick. Making her way towards the staircase Chicco caught her attention with a slurred “Eleonora Francesca Sava” as he attempted to give her a high five. Weird. But she returned the gesture and continued on her merry way.

The relief was sweet as she exited the bathroom. She was just about to text Sana when the sultry voice of Edoardo Incanti came from behind her: “And who said you were allowed up here?” She slowly turned around to face him, getting her first real look at him all night. He was so annoyingly gorgeous. Dressed in a casual thin shirt and jeans, with his signature curl falling across his forehead in that way… she needed to relax. “Sorry, but the facilities downstairs are kinda out of service. You might wanna do something about that actually,” she said. He replied with a muffled laugh and walked right up to her so that he was looking down his nose at her. “You know, usually I wouldn’t be cool with such behaviour, but then again it’s you.” “Meaning?” Ele questioned. Edoardo grinned, “Meaning I think I’d let you do just about anything.” She felt her breath get caught in her throat and her cheeks heat up. “Stop it.” His grin deepened. “Just telling the truth Sava. After all, honesty is the best policy.” She couldn’t help the laugh that came out. The look he gave her sent a rush of butterflies into her stomach. “Uh… I should really find the girls. Silvia’s here and if she sees–“ He backed off just a little. “Actually Silvia got sick and I think Sana brought her home. Eva and Fede are still here though” he informed her. Ele cursed to herself and dragged her phone back out of her pocket to find a text from Sana telling her exactly that. She nodded her head letting him know she believed him. “Anyway, having fun?” he asked. “It’s okay I guess” she replied after a few seconds of pretending to seriously consider the question. Edoardo clutched his chest as if in pain, “Ele you wound me. My parties are legendary.” She rolled her eyes at that. He bit his lip, “Can I show you something?” She scrunched up her nose, “Depends…” He laughed, “It’s not a trick and it’s nothing bad, you can trust me. Scout’s honour.” She squinted her eyes at him, “Were you even a scout?” He scoffed in mock audacity, “Um, of course I was.” He made his way down the hall, looking back over his shoulder when she didn’t move. “Are you coming?” She remained rooted to her spot for a few more seconds, eventually deciding she was in fact curious she followed after him.

He opened a patio door that led out to a balcony. The view was breath-taking, but what really caught her attention was the presence of numerous plants decorating the exterior. “Now, this is not me coming out as a fellow gardening fanatic or anything, but I know it’s something you really enjoy and I just- I don’t know, I just thought you might like it.” He seemed almost nervous as he scratched the back of his neck.  She smiled, “I do really like it.” She moved closer to appreciate the various flowers scattered around the balcony. “We have a gardener” he answered her unspoken question of how they were still alive under his care. “I do water them from time to time though.” He added. She laughed hard, “I figured as much.” Not that she would admit it right now, but it kind of melted her heart that he knew she would be into this.

They had spent a while talking and had moved to sit on the comfy swing chair in the corner, forgetting all about the party still happening below them. The comfortable conversation faded and Eleonora must have dozed off to the gentle swaying rhythm of the swing, because a sudden burst of hollering woke her up to find her head on Edoardo’s shoulder who had also fallen asleep. The noise also jolted him awake. They both just stared at each other. Elenora mortified, Edoardo much too pleased with himself. The balcony door swung open and a stressed Federico appeared, stopping in his tracks at the scene before him. “Edo, the police crashed the party and I took the rap saying it was my place. I kicked everyone out cause you were M.I.A.” A smirk graced his lips, “Of course, now I know why.” Eleonora jumped up, “Shit, Eva and Fede must have left without me.” She was about to run to find them but Federico stopped her. “No, Eva’s passed out downstairs.” “Federica?”Ele asked. “I’ve been with Eva all night. She must have left”, he shrugged.

The three of them went downstairs where Eleonora tried to rouse Eva from her comatose state. The only response she received was a series of whining and Eva pushing her away. Edoardo tapped her on the shoulder, “Look Ele, there’s no way you’re gonna get her in a taxi. I’d drive you both home but I’ve been drinking. Why don’t you both stay in the guest room?” he reasoned. Ele was unsure of what to do, but he was right. The easiest and safest option was to just spend the night here. Eva agreed with a nod and a grunt. “Okay… uh thanks”, she smiled.

Fede helped carry Eva to the guest room and Ele got her settled. Edoardo brought up two glasses of water and a basin just in case. Once the girls were both in bed Ele noticed the two boys still standing there. She just stared, “Goodnight…” she said. They both repeated it back to her simultaneously. “Sorry”, Edoardo quipped realising how awkward the situation was getting. “I think Fede thought he might be in your place tonight”, he smiled at her. “Shut up man”, replied Federico. Edo pulled Fede out of the room and softly closed the door. But Ele could just make out Edoardo’s reply to whatever Fede had said: “And of all the people in this house you think I wanna sleep with YOU. We both get to suffer.” Ele couldn’t help but smile as she threw her head onto the pillow and closed her eyes.

[omgjasminesimone]

Tequila Sunrise Part II

Previous Part: Part I

Next Part: Part III

Logan x MC

Author’s Note: Part II! Thanks for the warm reception to this story. Hope you guys like this part too, and let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for future parts!

Summary: 10 years have passed since Logan and Ellie last saw each other. But fate has brought them back together in Mexico.

Word Count: 1710

Ellie wakes up with a pounding headache, and the need to empty her bladder after all the alcohol she had consumed earlier in the evening. She throws off the thin cover, which was unnecessary in the Mexican heat, and stumbles to where she assumes the bathroom is. She’s so focused on finding a bathroom that she doesn’t immediately worry about where she is or why she just woke up in an unfamiliar bed.

After using the restroom and washing her hands, she sleepily shuffles back into the bed. Ellie is just starting to doze off when the events of the night flood back to her. Dinner with Riya and her good friends from Langston, them desperately trying to cheer her up. Arriving at the bar, dancing with a handsome Matt Rodriguez look-a-like, drinking so many Tequila Sunsets that she lost track of exactly how many she consumed, Logan…. Her eyes shoot open and she sits up in the bed. Logan.

She’s in Logan’s house. In Logan’s bed. She looks around the small room, Logan is nowhere in sight. She does spot a glass of water and what looks like the Mexican equivalent of Advil on the nightstand. She smiles, isn’t he thoughtful.

She swallows the pills and drinks the water, immediately feeling better. She’s relieved she still has her wristlet, with her phone and all her money. She checks the time on her phone, 2:30 AM. There are several worried texts from her friends, and she quickly responds to let them know she’s fine, and she’ll see them at brunch in the morning. She tosses her things onto the nightstand, standing from the bed and stretching.

She’s still in her tight sequined gold clubbing dress. Logan obviously didn’t feel comfortable changing her into something more sleep appropriate, although he had removed her heels and left them near the nightstand. She manages to get the zipper after some difficulty, allowing the dress to fall to the floor. She rifles through his dresser, throwing on one of his plain white t shirts. She goes back into his bathroom to scrub her now smudged makeup from her face. She scrutinizes her bare faced look in the mirror. Being cheated on has really messed with her confidence. She decides she looks fine. Besides, she remembers waking up in Logan’s arms for the first time after leaving her Dad’s and him telling her that she looked beautiful with no make-up, that she didn’t need it.  

She leaves the bedroom and finds herself in an under-furnished living room, a small kitchen past a half wall to her right. She checks the couch, but Logan isn’t there either. She frowns, giving the room another once over to make sure she hasn’t overlooked him.

She walks outside to the porch, surprised to see it’s literally right on the beach. She wonders if this hut was expensive as she leans on the wood railing and watches the waves crash for a moment. She finally finds Logan when he lets out a soft snore behind her. He’s asleep in a hammock, swaying softly in the night breeze.

He looks so relaxed when he sleeps. Normally, there’s a hard edge to him beneath his charm. An edge that probably comes from the time spent bouncing between foster homes, looking out for himself from a young age, being dealt a shitty hand in life and always expecting something bad to be right around the corner during any moment of fleeting happiness. But right now, he just looks so peaceful. She gently combs her fingers through his hair, pushing stray stands out of his face. Ellie is surprised by the tears welling up in her eyes. But God, she’s missed him.

The first few months after he left were the hardest. It took her awhile to realize that he really wasn’t going to come looking for her, even though he told her he wouldn’t, that he couldn’t. Eventually she started dating, but she compared everyone to him and they never lived up. Eventually, she had realized she was just going to have to settle, that she’d never have who she really wanted. But fate had brought them back together. What were the chances that they would end up in the same shitty bar in Mexico at the same time? That had to mean something. Even he couldn’t think they really were supposed to stay apart after this.

She carefully climbs into the hammock with him, trying not to roll them both onto the floor. Logan stirs as she jostles him. She curls into his side, resting her head on his chest. He stiffens for a moment, seeming like he’s at war with himself. Eventually, he gives in and curls one arm around her. “How do you feel?” He asks.

“Hungover. My alcohol tolerance is clearly way down from my college days.”

He laughs. “Those girly drinks are dangerous. You should stick to the hard stuff.”

“Why are you out here? We could have shared the bed.” She suggests.

“I don’t think that would have been a very good idea. You were really handsy. And really drunk. But despite all your very explicit talk about what we’d be doing when we got here on the way home, you passed out almost immediately once your head hit the pillow.” He teases.

Ellie can’t help but blush as she vaguely remembers some of the things she had said. “Well, the night is still young.” She responds, running her hand up his thigh sensually.  

She feels him gulp and he stops her hand before she can reach her destination. “Ellie, we shouldn’t.” He chokes out.

Ellie sits up in the hammock, irritated with him now. “Why Logan? Why are you fighting this? What were the chances we were ever going to see each other again after everything that happened in LA? Don’t you think that means something?”

“Ellie-“ He tries to interject, but she interrupts.

“I mean, I was just really starting to come to terms with never seeing you again. After ten years, I guess I realized you really weren’t coming back for me. Maybe it didn’t mean as much to you as it did to me. Because I would have found you, if the circumstances were reversed. I mean, I don’t even know your last name. But you could have easily looked me up at any time, whenever you wanted to. But you just didn’t. You didn’t care. You must not have hurt like I did.” She furiously wipes her eyes, making to stand from the hammock.

Logan grips her wrist, keeping her in place. “That’s really what you think? That I stayed away because I don’t care about you?”

She refuses to answer, tugging on her wrist to free herself but he doesn’t release her. “Let go Logan.” She says.

He doesn’t. “I stayed away as long as I did because I love you.”

He said love, not loved, she notes, raising her watery eyes to look at him. He releases her wrist, using his now free hand to wipe the tears that have started to fall from her eyes.

“And I did come back for you. Once.” He admits.

Her eyes widen in shock as he continues. “When you graduated from Langston, I was there. After LA, I went to Miami, then Ohio, then Arizona, and then Dallas, but the FBI wasn’t giving up. They kept getting closer, asking my neighbors questions. I realized I had to leave the country. I knew you were about to graduate. I…I wanted to see if you would come with me. I knew it was selfish, and stupid, but I guess I jut figured that since you got to go to Langston like you always wanted….” He gently pulls her to his chest, running a hand through her hair. “maybe it was my turn to finally have what I wanted.”

“You were at my graduation? Why didn’t you come talk to me?” Ellie questions, hugging him back, trying to comfort him.

“I was going to. I brought flowers, I had two tickets to Australia, I’d already started looking up jobs in your field in Sydney. But then I saw you, with your Dad, and your friends, celebrating. You looked so happy Ellie.” He pauses, absentmindedly tracing spirals on her bare thigh with the hand that’s not in her hair. “And there was a guy with you. Your boyfriend, I concluded when you kissed him.” Ellie thinks back to her college boyfriend, Grant. She had thought they were serious, but he ended up breaking up with her a week after graduation.

Logan continues. “I used to check your social media pages periodically, before you deleted them all basically right after that actually. I hadn’t seen anything about a boyfriend. I wasn’t expecting it. And I know I told you that you would, and should, love someone else, but it still hurt. And I realized that I was right back then. That I had to never see you again because you deserve so much better than me and this life.”

Ellie shakes her head. “You don’t get to decide what I deserve Logan.” She gently pushes him back into a reclined position in the hammock, maneuvering so she’s lying on top of him. The hammock sways slightly as their lips connect.

The kiss is hungry, ten years of longing poured into it. He cups her cheek, angling his head to deepen the kiss. He pulls away, but barely. Her eyes have closed, hands fisting in his shirt, and she feels him smile against her lips. “You taste like Tequila Sunrise.” He mumbles, before kissing her again.

As their kisses become more heated and hands start to wander under clothing, they lean too far to the left and almost topple the hammock. Logan manages to correct them by rolling her off of him and onto her right side. The hammock swings precariously, but they stay upright.

Ellie hops off of the hammock, offering Logan a hand to help him up. “Let’s take this inside.” She suggests.

Logan smirks. “Am I getting all those explicit things you promised me?”

She tugs him toward his bedroom. “Only if you’re good.”

...

..

.

Taglist: @choicesarehard @ifyouseekheart@brightpinkpeppercorn @powdesiree0816 @regina-and-happiness @choicelogansbitch @flyawayboo @fairydustandsarcasm @alesana45 @umiumichan @maxwellsquidsuit @professorortegasstudent @god-save-the-keen @mrsmckenziesworld @paisleylovergirl 

[smolbeandrabbles]

I'm A Girl - Martin x Reader Drabble (Untogether)

Gif credit: @benmendo as eveerr...! Author’s Note: As requested by @shantellorraine I hope you enjoy!! 😘😘😘💕💕💕 And THANK YOU for requesting! This thing has been in my drafts since the end of April---! UGH! And I knew the whole thing and then subsequently wrote it in two days. Why I don’t write things the second I have the idea I will never know... ANYWAYS! @stcphstrange @beany-ben @mfolcore @alotofrandomfangirling HEY! #MartinSquad! Surprise! 😘😊💙💜 If you guys thought I couldn’t find a song for everything... You’d be WRONG!  

Disclaimer: As usual, I don’t own any of the characters ‘cept Ms.Reader character. I have never had a Tim Tam in my life but I am assured they are great.  We have an English equivalent that I like so...? I assume they’re good. ...You just gotta trust me on Ribena, okay?!

Premise (As Requested): I was wondering if you could write a one shot of Martin taking care of the reader when she is on her period? That part in the movie was so sweet and the reader deserves it more than Tara does lol.

Words: 2568

Warnings: A teeny-tiny bit of swearing / General PMS nonsense 

I can rock a Target tank top, Gucci sunglasses, Cheap flip flops And still look like a million bucks to you You know it’s true... I'm the queen of my own planet And you wouldn't understand it... ...I’m an expert at chocolate and Chinese food And that time of the month, I feel sorry for you I’m a pain, it's a shame Ain’t a thing that you can do Cause I'm moody, attitudey And you can't say nothin' to me

Cause I’m a girl, Oh yeah I can get a free drink for flippin' my hair Or stay home, with a bottle of wine and you I’m a girl, I got skills I can dance all night in five inch heels And make you feel like the luckiest boy in the world Cause I’m a girl

---

This was probably the 15th time in five minutes you had let out a groan like that. To Martin all it said was pay ATTENTION to me!! He knew why, but he also knew that if he paid too much attention to you, you wouldn’t like that either and you’d probably end up kicking him. Not hard. Just with a sulky pout, arms folded across your lower abdomen. Because that was the real problem, let’s be honest. Still, you’d probably yell at him if he didn’t show you come kind of affection…. He swung around the bedroom door; “You okay?” “NO.” Here we go…! “Well, you didn’t sound it. But I had to ask didn’t I?!” You turned your head to glare at him. He was going to be in trouble no matter what he said, so he thought he might as well go for it. “…Are you being… Serious?!” “No…” Martin gave you a grin that again made you glare. He noticed you were wearing a pair of his track pants and a workout shirt. Yeah, today was a bad day.  “Buuuut… I figured maybe there was something I could help with.” “I dunno…” you stretched tenderly, but then hissed gently placing your hands just below your stomach. “…I mean I took an ibuprofen but… it’s not really DONE a whole lot.” “Aw… Sweetheart…” He tentatively stepped over to you, watching your reactions. But now you just looked pouty again.  Martin sat himself on the edge of the bed “You sure? I’m sure there’s gotta be something I can do.” “…No.” “No?” “Nope.” He took your hands in his, kissing your knuckles gently. There was probably something he could do. Later you’d also probably get annoyed he hadn’t done it. But he was a simple guy and not a mind reader.  He’d think on it, hopefully figure it out before you did. “You can stay here all day, if you wanna…?” Notice that he had voiced it as that kinda question and not the ‘are you GOING to stay here all day’ he meant. You removed one of your hands from his and touched his face delicately; about as delicate as you felt, before pulling him towards you and laying his head on your chest, he wound his arms gently around you as you stroked your fingers through his hair. “Why is this always the worst!?” He laughed “Because you’re a woman? I guess…” You tugged his hair as a warning, but couldn’t help but smile; “Uh. Oh God. Yippee…” He couldn’t help but laugh harder as he gently rubbed your stomach “Something… there’s gotta be something…” “…No… I’m sure there’s… Not.” You sighed, sounded restless. It was weird, you wanted to do so much. But all at once you also didn’t feel like it. Yesterday had been okay, you’d gone into town with him, cuddled his arm; whined a little but after an hour you wanted to come home. Martin has obliged. Of course, he had. He always did. That man had the patience of a Saint… But maybe he was asking you if there was anything he could do, so that he could do something? But then you didn’t understand why Martin always felt the need to sacrifice his happiness to make sure you were okay? Or did he? Maybe making sure you were okay was his happiness. Maybe he was trying to make sure you weren’t about to do something really dumb; like leave him. Oh, you’d heard all about her. But you weren’t her. And you wanted to prove that. He propped himself up on his elbows, to study your face. Those blue eyes of his mischievous; “What?” the tone you took was amused so he opted to continue, pushing himself onto his hands he kissed you. This time when you groaned it was with significant improvement, as you wound you arms around him, wiggling your body up into his. Biting his lip caused him to growl and the kiss continued to deepen. “Martin…” You groaned his name, your voice just edging sinful.  This was a bad idea he knew, and you knew. But here you were anyway… “F**k! Oh god! Sh*t!!” You pushed him off you and sprinted to the bathroom suddenly, as you felt another series of cramps set it. Leaving him a little bewildered he glanced to the mirror quickly, shirt crumpled, hair a mess. He took a deep breath and slid off the bed onto his feet, smoothing his hair back he pulled his white shirt into place and walked into the corridor. To hear another frustrated yell and a box thrown out of the bathroom and against the wall. Possibly a little too hard. Right now you didn’t care. You sat on the side of the bath, head in your hands and groaned again. Martin rolled his eyes; okay now what? NOW what. He was very slow and cautious as he moved down the corridor again. He picked up the empty box. Oh. He turned to you, now sliding down the side of the bath and curling into a ball on the floor. Raising an eyebrow, he tapped on the door. “Y/N…” “Yeah-” Well it was barely a yeah, and it was muffled under your hands. “Baby, do you want me to go back into town…?” He shook the empty box at you “This seems… Important…” You looked up at him, weakly, as if you were about to burst into tears; “Would you!?” “Umm hmm…!” He looked at the box carefully, trying to commit it to memory “…Are these the ones?” “Right now I’d take ANYTHING!” Martin didn’t like that you also sounded on the edge of tears. He nodded, “Okay. I won’t be long I promise.” His walk to you was quick and he kissed your forehead. “Stay here. I know this is a dumb thing to say. But try to get comfortable. Ok? I promise I’ll be right back gorgeous.” He added a wink, and ran from the room. He took the stairs nearly three at a time, grabbing his wallet and keys, already typing in the nearest drug store into the app on his phone. He knew it wasn’t far, hell he knew the way but right now there couldn’t have been a bigger emergency! And he couldn’t have been too sure! **

He arrived back promptly. You were now downstairs curled up on the couch and still looking sorry for yourself. He set about 5 boxes down in front of you; “I wasn’t about to get the wrong type.” “... oh my god...” you murmured it “...you are a Godsend Martin. You really are!” He almost giggled and you saw red cross his cheeks, “No, it’s... Anything for you... right...?” You reached out for a box but winced, clutching your lower abdomen with your other hand “oh...!!! I feel like I’m dying..!!” You lamented, clearly having a bout of melodrama. He stifled his laugh well as you pretended to cry “This is hell.” “I’m sure.” Martin sat on the arm of the couch and his eyes flicked to the wine glasses and bottle; “Are you sure that’s gonna help?” He asked, eyebrow raised “Oh god. I don’t know. I’m at the point where I’ll try anything... besides one glass is for you...?” He sighed gently and stroked a hand through your hair, indicating to the box you were now holding “You go... do whatcha gotta do and come back here. I got a few ideas...” “Better than mine?” “Better than alcohol, yeah...!” He picked up the rest of the bottle as you rolled yourself off the couch and trudged to the bathroom again. You were slow, your body bent like you really were dying.

Martin shook his head after you, grinning and poured himself a glass, as you’d been sweet enough to get him one despite your ‘condition’. Periods were the worst. He knew that. But he also knew how to work around your mood swings and when you were coming up to one. He didn’t need that tiny star you marked out every month to tell him anything. Just the way you’d suddenly get overly affectionate. How for about a week you’d insist you had to get on the dance floor with him just to grind up against him and show him off. So you could look pretty and wait for men to offer you drinks. That was so Martin didn’t pay anything; “What?! No, you spent enough getting us IN here.” LA was ridiculous. “... All I have to do is sit up at that bar for five minutes. Free drinks!” You would always turn to him with a wink “Do you want anything?” But then it would set in like this. And that wasn’t a problem either, because then Martin would get to look after you. And he sure loved doing that. 

He stood taking the bottle and glasses back to the kitchen. He took a sip. Not the best. But not bad... passable. By the time he was back in the living room you were back on the sofa, legs dangling over the edge of the couch as you lay lengthways. The TV was now on.  “C’mere...” He was trailing a blanket with him that he threw over you, tucking you in. “I hate seeing you like this! You make me feel like I can be doing almost ANYTHING else.” You mumbled a gentle thank you as he kissed your forehead. Then you heard the microwave ping; “Popcorn?” “… Really?!” Martin shook his head, sounding a little bit exasperated. “Yeah that’s the first thing I thought of wasn’t it...” He placed a bar of your favourite chocolate on the coffee table. “That aughta cheer you up!” “OH! Chocolate AND Mike Wolfe?! How could I refuse?!” He called back “Who?!” Making you chuckled as you broke off a piece of the bar; “You’ll see...!!!”

 When he came back to you again you realised why the microwave had pinged. And you covered your face for a minute, he was just... so cute. Sooo cute. “You... I don’t think anyone has made me a hot water bottle since I was ten!!” “Well. I’m not anyone and I gotta take care of you.” “Oh... Martin... thank you...” He wasn’t sure if you were welling up because you were overcome with emotion, or you were overcome with emotion because of your current state. He’d take either. “Oh sweetheart...” his voice was so soft too... “Don’t cry...” he brushed his lips gently against yours and he could taste the sugar already, making him laugh; “You wasted no time on that then!” “Look. If you leave it anywhere near me you know it’s gonna be gone when you turn around, right?” He shook his head at you, making sure you were nice and warm before he got up AGAIN. This time you whined and reached back for him “Don’t leave meeee...!!” “Final time, baby, I promise...”

This time he did actually mean it and he settled into the couch himself, before pulling your blanket cocoon until your head was nestled in his lap. When that was done, he carefully set down the glass of steaming purple liquid. You were curious right away “What is that?!” “Ribena.” “... sorry...!? What?!” “Is that not a thing Stateside?! Geez. You need to get better taste in drinks.” “Is that for me?!” “Yeah. Hot Ribena. It helps. I’ve picked up a thing or two. And that...” He pointed at it “Swear by it. I would swear by it from what I’ve witnessed. But I’m not female, so I don’t want to tell you I know first-hand!” “... but what is it!” “It tastes like blackcurrent. You’ll like it honest!” “Direct from Australia?!” He nodded, looking proud of himself “It’s British but... yeaaaah. This particular bottle is from Australia.” You sat up just enough to take the glass. Your first sip was delicious. Even though it was hot. The warm liquid seemed to do the trick. “Oh! Okay. God bless your heritage!” That made him laugh “See! And you always laugh at me for going into the foreign aisle in the supermarket!” “Cuz it’s so freakin’ expensive!” “True. But there’s a lot of good there.” He gave a shrug, watching you sip the glass, thoughtfully, but with a smile on your face.  “Like I say though. That’s from home.” “I thought you only ever brought back confectionary.” “Yeah. Well, they all go before I even get much of a chance to eat one.” You grinned, hardly regretting it “Tim Tam's are the best.” He nodded his agreement “Tim Tam's ARE the best.” Then he realised why you had previously mentioned Mike Wolfe. He knew somewhere in the back of his head that name rang bells. On the tv was yet another episode of American Pickers. “THIS show again?!” “Hey! I don’t judge you for the Dog Whisperer do I?! Besides I think you’ll find this show is very interesting!” “Oh yeah. Cuz you’re watching for the show.” “Well...” You managed through another mouthful of chocolate, noticing a substantial shift in pain, it was dulling (you weren’t sure if that Ribena stuff was magic or not), now you were sat here like this and Martin has done all the hard work, “Mike Wolfe is pretty freakin’ hot.” “Oh. You think.” Martin crossed his arms with a slight jealous pout. You swallowed your mouthful with a smirk and took another sip “... Yeah. I do like a hot older man. That’s for sure. Very appreciative of that! I have to say.” “Uh huh.” You stretched, still smiling “I mean look how excited he gets at a good pick. And those snap glasses are just... oh.. baby...” There was a slight growl from your boyfriend but he said nothing more. Which made you giggle. “Of course, he has absolutely NOTHING on you. I mean Geez. No one does. Take about lucky.” Martin couldn’t help but laugh “Yeah, yeah, okay! You’re not so bad yourself!” He gave a cheeky wink which made you smack his arm. “Feel better?!” “Much! Thank you! Now hush! Mike is talking!”

  Though he had to admit it was a very immersive programme. And he secretly loved the way your eyes would light up at something you found interesting. Or when you would giggle at Mike being “cute”. He heard another snap from the chocolate bar and your sudden quiet “oh...” before you nudged him. ”Huh? What is it sweetheart..?” He looked down, and you were handing out a piece to him; “It’s the last piece.” “Oh-!” There was significance in that “oh no-! I-!l” but your hand was insistent, so he took it delicately from you; “Thank you...” He hesitated, “Are you sure you want to give me your last piece of chocolate?” You nodded “You’re worth it. I’d give you my last piece.” You laugh “You put up with this! You can have my last anything!” Martin smiled gratefully as he bit into it. Savouring the taste. It was good chocolate; you did sure know how to pick your favourites! He hummed, satisfied, as you took his hand and kissed the back of it;  “You sure know how to pick ‘em…” You smiled against his skin and he couldn’t help but smile too. You couldn’t help but think how right he really was, talking about himself or not. “I know…”

--- At least ONE person laughed at the Mike Wolfe thing... right?! 😏😉

Go ahead and look him up... You probably won’t be disappointed! 

[rannadylin]

So here they are! I made a Lenneth for the Sims 4 tutorial and she is as adorable as a Lenneth can be so I kept on playing her and made an Aloth to go with her after the tutorial was done. And they do go together splendidly!

How splendidly? Wellllll...continue after the cut if you dare, there are a lot of pictures to share!

Like her PoE counterpart, Sim Lenni dabbles in many skills. She’s learning to be a violinist like her dad...and it occurs to me I’ve never had PoE Lenneth show musical skill beyond dancing when someone else plays, and I may have to rectify that.

After I finished the tutorial and Lenneth’s tutorial-housemate moved out, I (after some struggling to find out HOW you add new Sims) brought in Aloth to live in the spare room. It did not take long for Lenneth - bubbly, cheerful, endlessly curious fashion journalist (how did she end up with that career? I’m not really sure) to chat this nerd (gloomy, neat freak, logical, and unemployed at first because wizard isn’t an actual Sims career) into utter adoration for her. Seriously, he was following her around the house most of the time. He also played a lot of chess to up his logic skills for one of those nerd aspirations. Something about the game seems to have shocked Lenni here.

They went on some dates, their first one being to the museum. Mostly it was Lenni asking him out, which seems very like her. There was tickling:

There was something more in the direction of flirtation:

There was a date at the park where they started out both too close to exhaustion and halfway through the date it ended up being a nap.

But once rested, there were heart eyes.

Eventually there was a proposal!

And then, because I am new to the game’s mechanics, there was some confusion about planning a wedding. Apparently “plan” means “go do the event right this very minute!” so I didn’t actually have time to arrange the catering/music/drinks that were apparently supposed to happen when I picked the park for the venue...Also they were, once again, too near exhausted at the start of the event to see it through. So the night ended up back home without saying the vows just yet...But with hot dogs.

But not to worry; we got it figured out and had a decent wedding (at home, in the garden rather in need of watering, and for some reason she changed to a red dress this time...).

She even got to use those well-practiced violin skills to entertain her own wedding guests!

Soon after that...Aloth, having leveled up his nerd stuff, somehow ended up with a goal of building and launching a rocket. Like, not a toy rocket. A proper GO TO SPACE rocket.

Well...why not, huh? I guess it’s the Sims equivalent of a wizard. Aloth, Rocket Scientist!

Lenni was proud of his accomplishment.

All this while he was technically unemployed and Lenni keeps getting promoted in her fashion journalist job...

Lenni has also been dabbling in art, since her job calls for her to illustrate fashion sometimes...

And then after they’d been married a little while, Lenni had her birthday and aged up from young adult to adult. And then Aloth’s birthday came a little later (in the PoE version I think she’s younger than him? But she’s cagey about her actual age so no one really knows) and she made him a cake (which is what actually ages you up in this game, as I found out when I tried to make a cake for someone but Lenni was the first to eat it and it catapulted her into senility all of a sudden!) and then they went out for a birthday date. 

Kind of an awkward date, since strangers and casual acquaintances kept trying to come up and start conversations with them. Lenneth stepped out to use the bathroom at one point and the fangirls swarmed Aloth...

I mean, sometimes this game is very true to life. XD

But then Lenni came back to stake her claim on her husband and then they went home and there was kitchen kissing...

And the next day Aloth finally finished building his rocket and then...well. Did you know Sims can, ahem, get pregnant in a rocket ship? He took Lenni on a space date and she came back to earth quite pregnant.

Which seems like a good point to end this post, as long as it’s getting...more to come as their family increases!

[theclaravoyant]

I may be late to the party but "You forgot to pay the electricity bill and now our lights just went off. What now?" for fitzskimmons if you've still got left over free time to fill lol

AN ~ anything for you! :D this one goes out to anyone doing finals r/n i know that feel. shoutout to that time I had a breakdown bc there was no meat in my sandwich whoot. I hope everything goes well and I wish you all the mental equivalent of a soothing bath when you need it most.

in the meantime, there’s fitzskimmons (with extra skimmons)! this is a little hurt/comfort, arguably mild angst w/ happy ending, rated G/T, I hope you like it!

Read on AO3 (~1300wd)

-

“OHHHH! HEY!”

“NO, YOU CAN’T-“  

“SSHH! Shh, shh-“  

“You’re right, shh,”

Jemma rolled her eyes at Fitz and Daisy’s shushing from the other room. They’d recently acquired a new videogame and had agreed to play it quietly, since Jemma was still studying, but it wasn’t really working out. Jemma could hardly blame them, she supposed, even as she bit her lip and turned her music up a little to drown them out. Even she was getting to that point in semester where she’d rather hang upside down off the back of the couch and join in with their shoot-em-up antics. And she loved homework – so they said – “more than life itself.”

All of a sudden though, the universe had apparently decided this was one too many slips in their promise. The lights went out and the music went silent, and suddenly Jemma’s highlighter was the brightest thing in the room. Even the clock was out. The only other light came from her phone – alerting her that it had been taken off charge – and the little corner of glow-in-the-dark space stickers above their bed that Daisy had put there once, for fun. They spoke to a whimsy and self-assurance that Jemma usually loved about her…

Just not when it came with this level of forgetfulness.

Jemma ground her teeth together, and tried not to throw open the bedroom door too hard as she stalked back into the lounge.

“What was that?” she demanded icily, glad the others could not see her expression properly. She was way too stressed out and exhausted to think about this rationally.

“Power’s down,” Fitz said. “Did you have the kettle and the microwave on at the same time again?”

“In the bedroom?” Jemma challenged, raising an eyebrow.

Then Daisy raised a hand.

“Uh, guys, I think this is my bad,” she confessed. “I may have forgotten to pay the electricity bill. Well, I mean, I didn’t forget. I was sort of in a standoff with the building manager about the laundry situation and I said I wouldn’t pay our electricity or our water til it was fixed because it’s in our tenancy rights but –“

“Is it?!” Jemma challenged. “Is it in our tenancy rights? Well that’s fantastic. Is there a bloody great candle in there too? Hmm? Perhaps some glow sticks?”

“Jem, come on.” Daisy held up her hands in surrender, trying to step lightly. “You were mad about it too.”

“I still am!” Jemma jabbed a finger back at where her study notes were waiting – “but I have exams to do. Did you have to take this stand now of all times? It’s finals, Daisy! I need power! I need my computer! I need light! How could you be so inconsiderate? Or were you just so thick-headed that you didn’t see this coming?!”

“HEY!” Fitz stepped forward, putting himself between them. “That’s uncalled for, Jemma. Come on.”

“You’re taking her side?” Jemma glared, tears in her eyes. “You know how important this is to me!”

“I just think you need to calm down, that’s all. Daisy made a mistake, but –“

“But I’m being ridiculous. Okay. It’s only my whole future resting on these results. But okay. I’m going downstairs.”

Wiping her eyes, Jemma stormed back into her room, swept her belongings into a bag, and stormed back out again, right past Fitz and Daisy and out the door.

-

Once Jemma was gone, Daisy sunk back onto the couch and checked her own eyes for tears.

“She’s right, I’m being stupid,” she sniffled, digging for her phone in the pile of clothes and food packets that had built up around them. “I’ll call the landlord and sort this out right now. Just pay the damn thing.”

“I don’t think you should do that,” Fitz advised, taking her hands gently in his to stop her fretting. “Otherwise when are we going to fight this? Christmas? New Year? Then we’ll all be back to school and it’ll start again. Stick to your guns, Daisy! Or are you going to give up your principles for a girl, hm?”

He nudged her playfully, and the tiniest of smiles cracked through the fear and onto her face.

“There she is,” Fitz encouraged. “Come on, you know Jemma would be right alongside you on this crusade any other day. She’s just stressed out of her brain right now. And you know she has these exams in the bag. She’ll be fine. And a new washing machine won’t shrink her sweaters, so she’ll thank you in the end, right?”

Daisy sighed.

“I guess you’re right,” she agreed, and with renewed vigour, tossed the phone back onto the pile of mess on the couch. “Screw that guy, it’s Jemma we’ve got to worry about. And I’ve got an idea.”

-

“Jemma. Jemma.”

“Mm?”

Jemma jolted awake to the feeling of someone tapping her elbow. She dragged her face up off the table and blinked, bleary-eyed, surprised to find herself in the internet café around the corner, with Daisy in her face and Fitz standing at the end of the table, looking on with concern. She was not sure how much time had passed since she’d left. Was it morning already? Or was her tea still warm?

“What ‘re you doing here?” she mumbled.

“We’re here to bring you home,” Daisy promised. “I’m sorry about the blackout, but I think we’ve reached a compromise you’ll appreciate.”

Jemma nodded, feeling too tired for words like compromise and appreciate, and preferring to all but flop into Fitz’s arms where he waited, as Daisy wilfully entangled herself in all of Jemma’s belongings (“how did you get all this down here?!”). Her brain was full of white noise as they made their way back to the apartment, but by the time they stepped over the threshold, Jemma was starting to remember why she was mad. It didn’t feel as visceral anymore – she felt burnt out, and she was still drop-dead tired – but she clenched her teeth together. Whatever Daisy had, she thought warningly, had better be good.

Fortunately, it was.

“Now, admittedly, I didn’t do this all myself,” Daisy confessed. “But Fitz has rigged up this place with a generator, so the fridge, kettle, and the odd charger should be working. Your laptop battery is supercharged, and… I found a couple candles.”

Daisy led the way and Fitz walked Jemma into the kitchen, where candles were clustered near the chargers and keys; the sink; the kettle; the fridge. The lounge and coffee table had been cleared of clothes, and rubbish, and other junk, and dotted here and there with candles too. As Daisy led her and Fitz down the hall, Jemma even spotted candles in their bedroom, but Daisy kept going all the way to the bathroom, where a warm and rosy scent floated out to meet her. Daisy smiled apologetically, and pushed the door open, gesturing for Jemma to continue inside.

“Daisy,” Jemma whispered, her eyes trailing the display of candles that danced around the room. There were a couple of new glow-in-the-dark stars in the corner of the mirror. She smiled. “What is this?”

“I’m sorry I was inconsiderate with my timing, and that our landlord’s a dick. And I’m sorry that you’re so stressed out. Fitz and I will shut our faces - for real this time – so you can take the night off, okay? We love you. I love you.”

Jemma nodded, tearing up. “Love you too, Daisy. Sorry I called you thick-headed. You should know, your stubbornness is one of your best qualities.”

“Yeah, well,” Daisy scoffed. “Enjoy that warm bath while it lasts, ‘cause our water bill’s on final notice too. Loveyoubye.”

Blowing her a kiss, Daisy ducked out the door and shut it behind her. Jemma opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came to mind. At this point, she was not even sure she followed what was going on. What she did know was that her body seemed to be climbing into a warm, lovingly prepared bath of its own accord, and she was hardly one to argue with that.

[thetravellingvagrant]

Day 12: Timisoara – Wazzte of time

I awoke today to the rather pleasant surprise of all five of my room-mates from the previous evening having checked out and fucked off, meaning that I now, for the morning at least, had a full eight person dorm room, all to myself.

Allowing myself a few moments to enjoy this rare pleasure, I jotted down a quick list of all the things I wished to see and do in Timisoara (which, for the most part was just a list of parks that looked quite pleasant to walk around) and ate some of my remaining pastries for breakfast, being in possession of little else that could provide sustenance. Anyway, list completed, I was nearly ready to go. After my morning tinkle, of course.

The toilets are by far and away the worst thing in this otherwise quite pleasant hostel. There is no lock on the outside door, so people can and do barge in at any given moment. The cubicles, as I mentioned previously are fairly flimsy and their curiously double doors are held shut, only by a small latch, which leaves a very noticeable crack in the door, through which, anyone with the inclination could look to see, quite clearly, another human defecating. In addition to this, the hostel operates a strict “no shoes” policy. While I'm quite sure that it's a very lovely idea not to have guests draping their dog-shit encrusted shoes all over the linen, in the bedroom, extending this rule to the bathroom seems...ill advised. They are essentially a public toilet, and I was being asked to walk into them, only be-socked. Though they were cleaned frequently, I have found frequently that wet patches can and do appear and whether they are innocent puddles of water, or more insidious little piss-lakes, they obviously soak through socks, all the same. Not a great state of affairs, particularly for a pooper a shy as I. Regardless, I powered through, dancing effortlessly around the wazz lakes and soon found myself relieved and ready to leave.

Almost as soon as leaving the hostel, I stumbled, rather fortuitously, directly into the city's Christmas market. In stark contrast to Cluj's market, Timisoara's offerings had a bit more character and interest. I very quickly spotted some absolutely ridiculous looking trinkets which would make wonderfully terrible souvenirs. They were pricey though, and my Lei supplies were nearly at the point I would describe as running low. Maybe. I really wasn't sure.

My initial plan, given that literally all the train lines from Timisoara to Belgrade (my next destination) had stopped running in recent years was to catch a ride on a passenger transportation service shuttle car...thing with a company called “GeaTours”. That plan abruptly changed earlier this morning, when I looked up their google reviews and found that they were...to put it kindly, not well thought of. Passengers complained of supposedly four hour trips taking upwards of twelve, multiple denials of entry to the intended country, due to the driver's lack of proper documentation, sometimes not showing up at all...horror story after horror story filled these pages and I was, understandably, no longer keen on utilising their services. My new plan then, was to catch a train from Timisoara, across the border to the Serbian town of Vrsac and then hop on board a bus to Belgrade, from there. This, however, would have to be paid for in Lei, rather than the Euros, which GeaTours were asking for. I needed to know how much it would cost, before I could gleefully throw my remaining money away on absolute, terrible garbage.

As it turns out, the station I would need to catch my train from was Timisoara Nord. The one, fifty minutes away, that I had walked from the previous day. Excellent. I trudged through the now-snowwy city streets (again though, more horrible slush than pristine white blankets of crispness) back to the station and wearily took my place in the queue.

Not knowing how to pronounce Vrsac, I decided to just play the daft laddy and ask for a ticket to Belgrade, allowing the cashier to correct me. I did and she did. She pointed at a sign sellotaped to her little window. I cast my gaze over it, briefly and saw the word “Vrsac” on it. Good enough for me. I asked for one ticket there and was given it. Great. All I had to do now was figure out what the fuck to do once I got there.

“Wait a second...” I muttered to myself as I surveyed my new ticket. “...Why does this say 'to Moravita' on it. Where the fuck is Moravita?”

I googled. Just on the Romanian side of the border. That is not what I asked for. Sighing, I retook my place in the queue to complain. As I approached the front again, though, I re-read the sign she had pointed to. It said, rather than “you need to go to Vrsac instead of Belgrade” as I had assumed, “all trains to Vrsac cancelled. Soz!”.

Double fuck and twenty rotten arseholes. Now I double had no idea what I was doing. Confused, I left, vowing to just ask someone who worked at the hostel what on earth I should do, instead of spend the entire day slamming my head against a wall, alone. Still, the ticket had only cost me 7.2 Leu; the equivalent to £1.30 (though, initially, I did think she had meant that it cost 72 Leu, which is obviously the equivalent of £13, which had me choking back fury and bile as I forked it over. No wonder she looked at me like I was stupid.). At the very least, I definitely had enough to buy all the stupid shit I wanted at the market.

After I did exactly that, I found myself a little stumped. It was cold. Like, super cold. Like, so cold, if you take your hands, gloved or not, out of your pockets for even a second, the nipping, awful pail was nigh on unbearable. I didn't really fancy being outside, but, given how worried I was about getting to my next destination, didn't really fancy attempting to navigate my way into any of the city's museums or eateries. I steeled myself and walked to and then around the botanic park, having missed the opportunity to do so in literally every city I have visited thus far before it struck me that I was uncomfortably cold; my legs ached from exertion and my face ached from the whipping, icy wind. I was definitely just staying outside out of a misplaced sense of duty rather than any genuine desire to do so, and so I decided to go home. After a quick stop in a small grocery store to pick up some ingredients for a dinner, during which a beggar tried to convince me that the bag of flour, swaddled in blankets she was carrying was an actual baby and not just very obviously a bag of flour, and a grindingly unpleasant walk, I was home. I promptly bundled myself under my blanket, like I was a bag of flour and began the witheringly slow process of heating myself up.

Soon, I was hot enough for hunger, rather than cold to be the overriding discomfort in my life and so I made my dinner. The manufacture of this dinner was fairly non-descript, though was soured slightly when another guessed strolled into the kitchen and used every drop of water from the kettle I had just boiled for a cup of tea, just as I was reaching for it in order to boil my gnocchi. Prick.

I was interrupted, however, during the imbibing of the dinner, by the hulking German receptionist of the hostel. I had told him earlier that I was trying to go to Belgrade and he told me, in a rather helpfully that he would look into it. And look into it he had. Apparently, in the intermittent time, he had sent two emails to two different passenger transport companies that frequently ran that route. All I had to do now was wait for one of them to accept me and I could throw away my laughably cheap, laughably shit train ticket. Hurrah! I was saved. Most likely, anyway. And I didn't even have to get robbed or dropped off in the wrong country by GeaTours to do it!

I returned to my room, fairly exhausted, despite accomplishing very little, during the day. I was still the only guest in my particular dorm, and so could happily spend the rest of the evening making as much noise, while being sprawled out in as ungainly a pose as I liked, which was obviously delightful. I fell asleep, content to be the king of my own tiny, rubbish, little country.

[theres-a-fine-line-fic]

Chapter Forty- I Wanna Be Strong

Hi guys, so I believe we only have about fifteen (ish?) chapters left before we reach the end of the story! There will be another tiny twist before the end, though. There's a another note at the bottom of this chapter, but it doesn't have anything with this story, it's about the next one! So, as always, let me know what you think! ________________________________________________________________________________________ Once again, my days were spent in the studio, trying to keep my mind off of how lonely I felt. I knew Josh was the same, and I made sure that I took a break about an hour before the show every night to call Josh when I knew he would be free. The night of the first show when I video called Josh, the dial tone barely even rang once before I heard my favourite voice, while the screen stayed black. "Hi baby, what took you so long to answer, I called about 5 times earlier and you never picked up. Is everything okay, do I need to come home?" I could by the shakiness in his voice, just how nervous Josh felt. It was the first night that he had played a show without me being present since the day we had met. He moved the phone around so that I could see his face, concern etched all over it. His hair was wet, as if he'd just showered, water droplets clinging to his neck and bare shoulders too. "No, no you don't need to come home, love. I was cooking, then doing the dishes and my phone was still on silent from work earlier so I didn't hear your call, I'm so sorry! Is everything okay?" I could hear a sigh of relief and the look on his face visibly ease up a little. "I was worried, Ava. Ashley will actually be round soon because I called her when you didn't answer for the fourth time." Josh looked a little sheepish when he admitted this. I couldn't blame him for worrying about me after everything we had been through. I knew he cared deeply for me, it was obvious in his actions. "Anyway, what did you make for dinner?" I moved round, letting the camera follow, showing Josh the mountain of dishes in the drying rack that I had just finished washing and rinsing. "Well, I kind of felt sorry for myself seeing as you wouldn't be coming home tonight and I started making one of your favourite meals, y'know,  the fake chicken/ Quorn parmesan with a shit ton of pasta and Caesar salad. Oh and brownies too, with lots of frosting. I'm pretty sure I used every dish in the cupboards to make it all." I directed my camera towards the oven so Josh could see the food, before propping my phone up against the vase sitting on the dining room table. "I'm really happy that you've got your appetite back again baby. You do realise that was the first meal you ever cooked for me in the house. Did you put the crushed walnuts in the brownies again too?" I nodded as Josh put his phone down, angling it so he could still see me as he dried his hair with a towel. He wasn't wearing anything other than a pair of tight jeans. "Baby, turn around a second, is there something on the wall behind you?" Josh turned around to look and I got perfect view of his derriere. By the time Josh had realised there was nothing on the wall and had turned back around to face me, I was leaning over the table with my chin resting against my hand, just watching him. "There's nothing there- You know something? You honestly look like the human equivalent of the 'heart eyes emoji' when you do that, it's adorable. Wait... did you do that just so you could look at my ass?" I could feel my face heating up as Josh read me like a book. I tried to shake my head, but in return, Josh simply began to smirk at me, before turning so his back was to me again. "What are you doing?" I laughed. Josh began shaking his ass in return, before quickly disappearing from the screen. I could hear what sounded like a door locking shut off screen, before Josh appeared on the screen in front of me again. He smirked again, before leaning in towards the camera, his red cap on backwards, covering his now drier hair. "Seeing as how you got to see my ass, it's only fair that I get to see yours now." I complied with Josh's request, turning around and bending over slightly before dancing for him. I looked over my shoulder to see Josh watching intently, one hand disappearing from the table that they were both previously placed on. "You've been practicing that ass shaking, baby! Also, you should wear my shirts more often. You have some serious side boob going on and I'm enjoying it." I was wearing one of Josh's sleeveless muscle shirts. As soon as I got home from work, I decided that I wasn't going out anywhere, so I changed into the muscle shirt and a pair of his baggy shorts. It wasn't until I turned to the side and looked at myself in the top corner of the screen that I notice it myself. There was a good bit of the side of my breasts on show. "You're right, maybe I should go and get changed?" Josh shook his head quickly in protest. I started to lift the hem of the shirt just a little. "Y'know, take off this shirt and go find another one to put on?" I lifted the hem slowly until a small hint of underboob was on show. I smiled as I noticed Josh had sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth, biting down a little, still watching me intensely. We were soon interrupted by a loud knock on my front door reverberated around the house. I moved my shirt back down, rolling my eyes, and moving away from my phone to answer the door. I'm pretty sure I heard Josh mutter "Damnit Ashley!" True enough, Ashley was stood at the front door as soon as I opened it. "Hey Ava, Josh hadn't heard from you so he wanted me to check everything was okay. Well, that and I missed you too, so I thought I'd come round for a catch up?" I let Ashley in to the house, gesturing for her to go into the kitchen area. Thankfully, Josh had put a shirt on while I greeted his sister. "Oh hey Joshua! I didn't know you'd managed to call Ava back! How are you feeling about tonight?" I pulled on Josh's jumper that was sat in the living room before coming back out into the kitchen, taking the seat next to where Ashley sat so we could both see the screen. "I'm okay, I was really nervous, but speaking to Ava really helped. If I get to see that beautiful face before I perform, then surely I'll be okay and the show will go well! Did I tell you what Tyler did for me?" I recalled Tyler saying he had a surprise for Josh, but I couldn't remember if he had told me what it was. "He's had a photo of you made into a big poster to be wrapped onto my drums so that I can still see your face every night until you're back on tour!" It was so soppy, just like the huge smile plastered on Josh's face. Tyler could be cheesy when it came to showing his love for Jenna, but when it came to showing his love and support for his best friend, the cheesiness hit a whole new level! It was cute though. "Tyler's a great guy baby, that was sweet of him to do that for you! Although you'll get to see me soon, I promise it won't be long!" Josh's smile faded a little as I said this. I didn't mean to upset him, I was honestly just trying to reassure him. "It's great that you have the poster for now, and it'll be time for Ava to fly out and join you in no time buddy!" Ashley tried to reassure Josh too, but we were interrupted by someone yelling from the other side of the bathroom that Josh was still currently occupying. "Guys, that's Brad calling me for the meet and greet before the show. I gotta go but I'll call you both tonight after the show?" Ashley and I said our goodbyes to Josh, watching him wave before he hung up the video call. "How are you doing then? I know it's only been two days since Josh left the house, but you look sad already." I shrugged at Ashley, moving off of my seat to take the dinner out of the oven. "I miss him, I won't lie and say that I don't, but I need to get this album finished so that I can go on tour again. Dave Rose thinks it'll only take about another week and a half or so? I just need to grin and bare it, y'know? I'm assuming you're staying for dinner by the way?" I replied placing a massive plate of food in front of Ashley, bringing the freshly tossed Caesar salad in a bowl and setting it in front of her on the table too. "Well if it smells this good, I guess I'll just have to stay and eat!" Ashley joked a little, digging into the pasta first, before the tone turned a little more serious again. "Will you be okay here on your own? I don't want you getting spooked or being lonely?" "It shouldn't be too bad, I mean it's short term right? Plus I won't really be in the house much, I've got work and I'm going to meet the therapist that you recommended on Thursday too, so that will keep me busy." That's right, I was going to speak to the therapist to see if I was able to forgive myself for what had happened. I didn't hold any grudges against anyone else for losing my child, not even Evan. Just me. I knew it wasn't healthy and if Josh and I were trying again with a clean slate, I didn't want to keep harbouring any old negative feelings. "I'm so glad to hear that you're willing to try! Dr Loggins is great, maybe you'll only need a couple of sessions, but at least you can see if it'll help you. Maddie wants all us band sisters to go for coffee on Friday or Saturday if you're up for it? We're gonna FaceTime Jenna too so it doesn't feel like she's missing out!" ******************************************************************************************** Ashley and I spoke long into the night, about anything and everything. I was so happy that Ashley had forgiven me for how I had treated Josh during the aftermath. The love I had continued to feel from the entire Dun family was overwhelming. Ashley stayed over that night, sleeping in the spare room which used to be Josh's. He kept it mostly just as a closet or storage space.  Ashley couldn't stop laughing when she noticed three identical "I Want To Believe" shirts hang up, as I showed her to her room. It was nice to hang out with another female. Don't get me wrong, I love Jenna, but being able to better understand Ashley was fun. It was important to me to make the effort to get to know her and Abbie. We talked about poetry and living with anxiety. Ashley actually told me about a couple of coping techniques that I wasn't familiar with before. About half an hour after we both went to bed, Josh called my phone. The FaceTime notification appearing on my screen, resting against my pillow, lighting up the dark room.  I picked up, answering the call and holding my phone so Josh could see me. "Hey, how did the first concert go?" "Yeah it was good! It went a lot better than I was expecting it to go to be honest. I missed you so much though. The sooner you're back out here, the better. Even Shap and John were complaining about you not being here. Are you absolutely sure that the album needs to be recorded right now? I could call or text Dave Rose and ask to get you out the studio?" Josh sighed, causing me to laugh. He knew the timescales that I had to work to, and the reasons as to why it needed to be completed by the end of the first week of November. That was what the label had agreed, and I was contracted to work it. I didn't, however, doubt for a second that there was a possibility Josh would text Dave Rose to ask if I could finish early. "Baby, I know you would text him, but please don't! I like this job and I want to keep it!" Josh started laughing when he saw the look of horror on my face. He held his hands up to the camera, placing the phone in his lap, looking down at the screen. "I promise I won't get you fired! Though I am counting down the hours until you're back with us all again." We spoke for well over an hour until Josh began to yawn. "Go to bed! I'm not telling you again, Joshua William Dun! Seriously, I will wake Ashley up just so she can tell you to go to bed, then you'll be grumpy tomorrow because you'll be tired and you'll have to deal with two grumpy girls because we'll be tired too!" Reluctantly, Josh said goodbye to me for the second time that night. I spent hours tossing and turning, staring up at the ceiling or over at the alarm clock on Josh's bedside table, just watching time trickle by like raindrops down a window pane. ================================================================================== Okay guys, so I'm currently working on a Tyler based story, it's very different to what I've done before and might be a little controversial with the storyline!

[primadonnatartuffe]

-- impenetrableVitality [IV] began pestering primadonnaTartuffe [PT] at 17:32 -- 

IV: ryan 

IV: actually nevermind 

-- impenetrableVitality [IV] gave up pestering primadonnaTartuffe [PT] at 17:34 -- 

-- primadonnaTartuffe [PT] began pestering impenetrableVitality [IV] at 17:34 --  

PT: um NO you cant just pull that shit. 

PT: once you got me youre stuck with me. 

PT: whats up finnberly???

IV: oh uh 

IV: i don't know

PT: k... 

PT: well i wanna chat anyway. 

PT: im having a pretty choice day today. :100: :ok_hand:

PT: sipping this drank of the cafe variety. :coffee:

IV: that's good 

IV: do you mean coffee

PT: yessiree. courtesy of the coffee can. i fuckin love this place.

IV: where is it though

PT: downtown on skaia. around where my usual haunts are.

IV: is that place 

IV: like 

IV: okay

PT: liiiike? safe?? is that what youre asking?

IV: yeah i guess

PT: its all good in this hood. :heart:

IV: are you by yourself

PT: yeeees. currently.

IV: are you eating anything 

IV: are you by yourself by yourself or by yourself with people around

PT: there are people around yeah. in the restaurant. 

PT: otherwise its just me and mr coffee.

IV: maybe ask a few people if they know cpr

PT: finn... baby... 

PT: im not gonna choke on my coffee.

IV: no i mean just in case

IV: it might be good

PT: in case of what?

IV: in case there's 

IV: i don't know 

IV: a cardiac emergency 

IV: do they have an aed there 

IV: maybe you should make sure they do

PT: finn... 

PT: are you alright sweetie? you seem like youre freaking out a little.

IV: i'm fine 

IV: i just think it's important that people are educated

PT: it sure is!!! but i think its fine.

IV: well it's easy to think that

IV: i just want to make sure

PT: of course. no problemo. 

PT: but hey lets talk about something else!!! 

PT: guess what happened to me last night.

IV: are you okay

PT: yes FINN. im great in fact. :blush:

IV: oh

IV: are you sure

PT: YES FINN!!!!!!!

PT: this is me trying to share GOOD news.

IV: okay tell me

PT: well. 

PT: well well WELL well WELL.

PT: me and jack are kiiiinda back together.

IV: oh

IV: wow

IV: that's great

PT: I KNOW RIGHT.

IV: is he okay

PT: shit he better be amazing cuz hes got me.

IV: you have a point

PT: I KNOW RIGHT.

IV: right

PT: in general tho he seems fine.

IV: they have an aed

PT: what??

IV: i called the place

IV: they have one

IV: in case you were wondering

PT: ... 

PT: umm okay i wasnt but... 

PT: are you sure youre alright??

IV: do you know how to use one IV: that's okay it tells you how to use one anyway

IV: it literally talks to you

PT: :confused:

PT: okay i definitely know youre not alright cuz youre ignoring me!!!!

IV: no i just need to tell you that

IV: it's by the bathroom

PT: duly noted. 

PT: finnnnn.

IV: yeah

PT: talk to me. youre acting weird.

IV: 30 chest compressions 2 rescue breaths 

IV: you can use it for a lot of things  

IV: maybe the people around you should know too

PT: I DIDNT MEAN TALK TO ME ABOUT THAT.

IV: sorry

IV: oh you have to open the airway too don't forget that

PT: mmmmmmmoh my god.

IV: does jack know

IV: i should tell him

PT: youre starting to worry me... 

PT: dont make me call colt.

IV: you don't need to call him he's fine 

IV: i'm fine 

IV: it's fine

PT: are you sure something isnt going on??

IV: i don't know

PT: tell me whats going on in your head right now.

IV: i don't know 

IV: i'm

IV: this was a mistake

IV: another one on top of another one that everybody saw coming

PT: nooo baby its fine.

PT: you fuss at me just lemme fuss at you. 

PT: its the law of equivalent friend exchange.

IV: he was right the whole time

IV: what am i doing

PT: who?? ill fight him.

IV: i'm not really different am all am i 

IV: i'm just 

IV: doing the same things

PT: :frowning2:

IV: i'll probably ruin her life and think i'm helping her but i'm not

IV: i have to go

-- impenetrableVitality [IV] gave up pestering primadonnaTartuffe [PT] at 20:36 --

-- primadonnaTartuffe [PT] began pestering impenetrableVitality [IV] at 20:38 --  

PT: no you dont!! hey! 

PT: finn listen. 

PT: you can talk to me alright? 

PT: if you feel like a fuck up just know youre talking to the Ultimate fuck up so im the last person who would ever judge you for whatever is going on in your head. 

PT: i wanna listen... i wanna be more helpful... 

PT: come on. please?

IV: i need to go i have to

IV: i have to stop doing this

IV: i have to stop

PT: hey hey. 

PT: it doesnt work that way alright?? 

PT: shit happens sometimes. 

PT: but it passes too... yeah? 

PT: i fucked up last night too finn. 

PT: i started drinking again... but i know for a fact it couldve wound up way worse. 

PT: and im okay! im gonna be okay even if i slipped up. you know what i mean? its the same with you.

IV: i brought an innocent life into all of my shit 

IV: i have to make sure she's safe 

IV: she's not safe with me

PT: baby youre doing a great job with her!! anybody can see that. 

PT: just because youre sick doesnt mean you gotta stop living your life. 

PT: youve got friends whove got your back... and theres nothing wrong with that. 

PT: shit i mean we were all basically raised by our parents friends along with our parents too right??? shes got the same kind of environment. i cant think of any place safer than where she is right now.

IV: i don't know 

IV: i don't want to keep hurting people

PT: i know... it sucks. 

PT: but its gonna be okay. i promise.

IV: fuck

PT: yeah let all your fucks out.

IV: i think i need help 

IV: i'm by myself right now 

IV: well me and sofia 

IV: i think i

IV: need to

IV: something i don't know

PT: well hey i can come over if you want.

IV: please

PT: okay gimme like... 45 mins or so since colts gotta live in the middle of bfe. 

PT: ill be RIGHT over. hang in there.

IV: okay the door is IV: is it locked or unlocked 

IV: i should know this 

IV: oh no

PT: i figure colt locks the door when he leaves. so just lemme in when i get there! 

PT: okay message me if you need to but im omw. 

RYAN: -pockets her device, fleeing the coffee shop and making her way to the transportalizer hub. with a quick zap she's on odimist, but the longer neck of her journey is getting a cab out to colt's place. she arrives at her estimated time... give or take a few minutes, but probably give, but of course no one can ever arrive early during emergencies. still, she's here, and she's knocking on the door while also texting finn that she's here.-

FINN: -his fingers feel numb and so do his his toes and so does his mouth in a weird way, but that's probably due to how messed up his breathing is. he's terrified he's going to drop sofia, that his arms will just give out from underneath her, so it's taking him a long time to get to the door-

RYAN: -that's fine... she can be patient... but not really. she peeps through the front window to see if she can spot him anywhere inside.-

FINN: -she can. He's mostly still other than the tiny steps he's taking and the steps he's taking backwards before he goes forward again. it makes sense in his head,  somehow-

RYAN: -frowns through the window at him. does she wait? does she try something else? she's REALLY not good at this, but dammit she's trying. she taps on the window now?? maybe that'll snap him out of it long enough to get her in there.-

FINN: -he looks up suddenly at the window tapping and has an expression of embarrassment on his face before he looks around frantically and just holds sofia closer as he goes to open the door. Finally, the door opens-

RYAN: -SUCCESS. she scurries over, looking up at him with big concerned eyes.- heeey buddy. 

RYAN: im here now.

FINN: hi 

FINN: sorry

RYAN: -flaps a hand- its all good. 

RYAN: hey sofia. -smiles a little at her and then kinda dances around finn to get inside.-

SOFIA: -stares at Ryan- 

FINN: -just looks really frazzled- i uh 

FINN: um

RYAN: -puts a hand on his back and starts rubbing in small circles.- shhh its cool. 

RYAN: maybe we should sit down??

FINN: -he takes a moment and nods before looking down at the baby again- yeah probably

RYAN: -starts guiding him to the couch.- alright alright alriiiight. 

RYAN: -plops down and plops her hand on the cushion next to her.-

FINN: -sits carefully- 

FINN: i need to wash my hands 

FINN: you need to wash your hands

RYAN: huh?? oh... because of the baby? 

RYAN: i can do that now... then we can trade off and you can go wash your hands?

FINN: do you remember how to hold her RYAN: yeah yeah of course. -gets up and scurries over to the kitchen to wash her hands in the sink, quickly returning to them.-

RYAN: okay i got this.

FINN: -he looks so worried but he carefully hands her over to ryan- you got her RYAN: i got her finn. i promise. -coos at the baby as she takes her.-

RYAN: hi again sofia. did you miss me? FINN: -watches the two of them as he leaves the room and bumps into the wall before disappearing into the kitchen to wash his hands. he returns after a few minutes.- maybe we should change 

SOFIA: -subtly wiggles- RYAN: nah... besides were all cozy here right? -snuggles sofia- we can relax. FINN: maybe we should though 

FINN: just in case 

FINN: the fabric is laced with deadly germs RYAN: -gazes at him a little bit- yeah... nah... that doesnt just happen. i think its cool. FINN: remember smallpox blankets RYAN: ... noooo?? FINN: it was a thing

RYAN: well thats cool but! pretty sure were good.

RYAN: lets talk about something else okay?

FINN: -sits back down and his fingers are digging into the couch cushion- RYAN: ...

RYAN: actually i think im gonna sing something.

RYAN: what do you wanna hear baby?

FINN: who RYAN: you. the bigger baby. FINN: oh

FINN: i don't think i have a great taste in music RYAN: okay i know youre tone deaf but you can still like music. everybody does.

RYAN: but alright leave it to me.

RYAN: just focus on listening alright? FINN: okay RYAN: -takes a breath- i know i havent been perfect but give it some time.

RYAN: cuz not a single day goes by where you dont cross my mind.

RYAN: and we spend our lives looking for things we cant find.

RYAN: oh but not a single day goes by where you dont cross my mind.

RYAN: all the days you spend on my mind.

RYAN: all the times that id say that well be together. well be together oh.

RYAN: all the ways you see through my heart.

RYAN: i know the good intentions they won't last forever wont last forever.

FINN: -listens to her sing and watches her, trying to focus on her voice and not anything else. it's beautiful- 

SOFIA: -YAAAAAS this is great. she gurgles-

RYAN: -smiles down at sofia.- all the hours weve spent on the line.

RYAN: all the times that youd say that i never listen i never listen

RYAN: through the conversations weve had til 4 am.

RYAN: you say you want something different want something different.

RYAN: and i know i havent been perfect but give it some time.

RYAN: cuz not a single day goes by where you dont cross my mind.

RYAN: and we spend our lives looking for things we cant find.

RYAN: oh but not a single day goes by where you dont cross my mind. -looks over at finn when she's done.-

FINN: -he looks calmer now. If not just a little- that was 

FINN: really nice

RYAN: -smiles softly.- yeah i know haha. 

RYAN: thanks man.

SOFIA: aaaaa 

FINN: did you just inherit a good singing voice

RYAN: haha i mean kinda? but it takes a lot of training too.

FINN: i think i'm untrainable

RYAN: i mean... we cant ALL be fabulous singers.

FINN: that would probably get a little annoying

RYAN: yeah man. i wouldnt feel very special haha... singing is basically all im good at.

FINN: that's not true 

SOFIA: nnnnn

RYAN: -bounces sofia a little in her arms, cooing at her.- 

RYAN: well i never pass up the opportunity to hear about myself sooo tell me what else im good at. :wink:

SOFIA: -wow this is the best time of her life- 

FINN: it's a long list but okay 

FINN: good at livening up a party good at being a good friend good at doing hair and makeup good at acting good with sofia good at not giving up

RYAN: -oh... dammit. why does she ask this stuff if she doesn't want sappy sentimental answers? she laughs a little and sighs.- ... thanks finn.

FINN: you're welcome 

 FINN: it's true

RYAN: -sniff... ugh. she's been feeling an awful lot of emotions these past couple days. she didn't ASK for this. accepting genuine, heartfelt compliments is hard so she tries to just focus on one. one thing she's curious about.- 

RYAN: you think im good with sofia?

FINN: well yeah FINN: -his expression softens- you're kind of a natural FINN: she loves you

RYAN: well the feeling is mutual sofia. -grins lopsided at her.- 

RYAN: i do kinda... like kids more than i would expect if someone like me. i dunno...

SOFIA: -good bitch you better love me- 

FINN: that's why assumptions are stupid

RYAN: troo. 

RYAN: ... maybe id have fun being a mom.

FINN: you can babysit her sometime if you want

RYAN: yeah? alright. 

RYAN: just call me whenever. not like im ever busy.

FINN: come on you have to be busy sometimes

RYAN: busy being SEXY sure.

FINN: -smiles a little- entertaining jack is that time consuming huh

RYAN: PFF no way i make him entertain me. 

RYAN: i only have to rely on my sexy personality around him since he cant see shit.

FINN: oh yes makes perfect sense

RYAN: -snickers- ... you know its kind of surreal. 

RYAN: like how naturally we kinda fell into it but... 

RYAN: -sighs- were both scared too?? and thats like... a reality of the situation we arent sure how to deal with. does that make sense??

FINN: -looks off for a moment- i know exactly what you mean

RYAN: yeah... 

RYAN: i just want it to work.

RYAN: i really feel like it could if i just... knew what to do.

FINN: -he looks off- yeah 

FINN: i uh 

FINN: i get it 

FINN: i might be going through the same thing

RYAN: -glances at him- yeah?

FINN: -his cheeks redden a little bit- yeah

RYAN: :eyes:

FINN: -scratches his head nervously- yeah i 

 FINN: saw emilet again

RYAN: oh reeeeally?

FINN: -HE'S SO RED- yeah 

FINN: i did -he saw a LOT of emilet-

RYAN: heheh aww finn. always getting up to something. 

RYAN: guess this means we can flail at each other while we flounder through familiar but tumultuous waters. 

 RYAN: be my lifeboat hombre.

FINN: okay

FINN: if you'll be mine

RYAN: -smiles, soft and sincere.- of course.

FINN: -smiles a little, taking a breath- colt's not 

FINN: too happy about it 

FINN: but things are different this time

RYAN: hes a grumpy gus anyway. 

RYAN: ... a neigh sayer if you will. 

RYAN: but man whatever floobs your boobs. even if it isnt different its your decision to make you know?

FINN: -he nods- you know the person that just 

FINN: you're with them and you know they're important to you 

FINN: then you're away from them 

FINN: and then when you're back in the same room you realize they were always the most important person to you a ll along

RYAN: -she laughs a little.- shit i mean yeah. 

RYAN: except for me its more like i definitely repressed all those feelings like every day until we were in the same room together. 

RYAN: and hes looking so different but so good and its like. 

RYAN: well fuck me i guess. 

RYAN: in every sense.

FINN: -laughs a little too- been there done that

RYAN: come on finn that goes without saying. 

RYAN: youre like the sluttiest person i know. and thats coming from ME.

FINN: -just slowly shrugs and smiles-

RYAN: -SNRRRKKK- goddammit finn!! -elbows him as best she can with a baby in her arms.-

FINN: ow hey 

FINN: you're the most violent person i know

RYAN: thats right bitch. ill fuck you up.

FINN: not with her you won't

RYAN: damn... true.

SOFIA: -whines a little and scrunches up her face-

RYAN: aw sofia im not really gonna fuck him up. 

RYAN: (im just telling her that to relax her.) -snickers and bounces her a little though.- 

RYAN: you think shes tired?

SOFIA: -starts to cry. life is hard- 

FINN: that or hungry or she needs to be changed 

 FINN: that girl can eat 

FINN: que paso sofia

RYAN: oh shit. good. 

RYAN: youre a growin girl. -smiles at finn, glad he's really calmed down now.- 

RYAN: want her back?

FINN: -puts his arms out- yeah sure 

FINN: she's probably tired 

SOFIA: -she's tired and upset about it-

RYAN: bet youre tired too. -hands sofia off to him carefully.-

FINN: -takes this cute little sad baby into his arms and he feels so much better about it than he did before- yeah 

FINN: but she has to sleep first

RYAN: naturally. 

RYAN: ... can i come with you when you put her to bed? -strangely curious about this routine.-

FINN: -looks over at ryan for a moment and then smiles- sure

RYAN: cool. cool cool cool. -smiles a little back-

FINN: -stands up and shooshes sofia- follow me

RYAN: -rises to her feet, hovering closely- :eyes:

FINN: -walks into sofia's room where he flips on the light. this is such a baby room, with a lot of pastel colors and a very secure crib. there are a lot of stuffed animals in the crib, but not so much that it affects her sleeping. his first stop is the changing table, where he takes the crying baby and sets her down- don't feel obligated to watch this part

[ashswritingplace]

Perfect Harmony

This is another updated short story, this one about a man who explores his relationship with his siblings.

“Perfect Harmony”

Sunlight reaches across my face and scratches at my eyes, forcing them open. As I sit up to welcome a new day, silence whispers sweetly into my ears, my most intimate lover. It has always been a comfort to me, my closest friend, and I cannot imagine a day that does not start with it.

I was not born deaf. Childhood cancer stripped me of my hearing when I was young, and it forced my fight for many long years. I have been cancer-free for only two years, and all remnants of its grasp on my life are gone, save for my hearing.

I retained twenty percent of my hearing in my left ear and none of it in my right. That is what appears on my medical records, but in reality, my hearing is as temperamental as English weather. Sometimes, I seem to hear perfectly, while other days, I hear nothing at all. With the help of lipreading, sign language, and the hearing aids I rarely use, I easily pass as a hearing person.

The digital clock on my nightstand harshly illuminates the numbers 7:04. I pull the blankets from my body and groggily get up. I make my way to the bathroom down the hall.

My eyes give away how tired I am. For a moment, I debate going back to bed, but I doubt the sunlight would allow me to sleep easily now. I cast a hand across my jaw, wondering if I can get away with not shaving for another day. My hair reaches past my collar now; as a teenager, I preferred the lengthy curls to hide my hearing aids, and now, as an adult, I neglect my haircuts more out of habit than embarrassment.

When I finish in the bathroom, I return to my bedroom and pull on my clothes for the day. My hearing aids rest in the drawer of my nightstand, unnecessary until tonight. I comb my hair and apply my deodorant, all the while humming to myself. I cannot hear my song, but practicing my pitch is important for my work.

I have a concert tonight. It’s one I’ve been preparing for and looking forward to for a long time now. The sheet music dances in my head as I step in tune to a song no one can hear.

Growing up, I struggled to be taken seriously. A musician cannot improve if he cannot hear, I was told, time and time again. Adults laughed me out of piano recitals and music teachers made bad examples of me in class. It took years of trying for a teacher to believe in me. Mr. Tucker, a veteran and retired math teacher, was the only one to tell me I was a virtuoso, a prodigy, that I would make it far if I kept going. You have an advantage over the rest of us, Hunter, he would tell me. We learn to listen for what sounds right. You have to feel it. I don’t know that I ever believed him, but I do know, at twenty-two, I am the youngest bassist to ever play in the Giles Christian Orchestra. My bass, affectionately named Tucker, watches me from my room, waiting for another opportunity to prove to our audience that its namesake was right.

Ready to start my day, I make my bed and start to the kitchen for breakfast.

My sister’s bedroom is closest to mine, and as I walk past it, I notice her door is open. The night owl she is would never willingly be awake this early on a Saturday morning. I peer into her room to check that everything is okay.

Her fuchsia walls are made louder by the colorful posters that decorate them. Bethany is spelt out in glittering purple letters, an art project from middle school. Her clothes are thrown on every surface in her room, and I wonder how she manages to coordinate her outfits so well each day, how she can find anything to match. On her unmade bed is her rose gold laptop and a stuffed animal she has always denied sleeping with. My sister, however, is nowhere to be seen.

The bathroom door is open, ruling out that possibility. I continue down the hall, calling her name.

No sooner do I turn into the family room am I smacked by a blur of blonde. She seizes fistfuls of my shirt. Her small body is trembling, and she is trying to say something, but I can hear none of what she mutters into my chest. After a moment, she seems to realize this, and her pale eyes meet my gaze. Swollen tears trail down her cheeks, and there is a terror on her face like I have never seen before. She speaks too quickly for me to follow, then grabs for my hands. Hers, much smaller, are shaking. She searches my face, waiting for me to respond to whatever she is trying to tell me.

When I look up, I see my twin brother glaring at her. He is breathing heavily, and just as I am about to ask him what’s going on, my eye catches on his hand. He firmly grips his hunting knife, and only then do I see the hateful look in his eye.

Instinctively, I move between my siblings. “Harrison.” My voice, though silent to me, makes him look at me. I try to search his expression, find out what has happened. “What the hell is the matter with you?”

Harrison scoffs. “Don’t you play dumb with me,” he says. I watch his lips, snarling. He is yelling; I can hear the rage in his voice, though I can make out none of his syllables.

Bethany grabs me from behind, hugging my waist. She presses her head against my back, still quaking. She is all of seventeen, but at that moment, she seems no older than a child. My sister, always confident, now cowers behind me, terrified.

Harrison rolls his eyes at us. “You’re a disgrace, you know that?” he says. “Both of you.” He spits at Bethany. “Mum would be so ashamed.”

He is speaking too quickly; I struggle to keep up with his words. I do not know what he is accusing us of. “Harry, calm down,” I murmur. It is seven in the morning, but I dare to ask: “Have you been drinking?”

My question only angers him more. He slashes at me, an intentional miss that leaves my heart pounding. “I’m the only one thinking straight in this whole damn family!” He motions to Bethany with the tip of his knife. “What have you done? How far from God’s graces have you fallen?”

I realize then that talking with Harrison will get me nowhere. I half-turn towards Bethany and press gently against her shoulders until she is looking at me. “What is he talking about?” I demand, though I fear I already have an idea.

Bethany glances towards our brother briefly before dropping her gaze to the floor. She mumbles something and, irritated, I raise her chin and force her to speak to me. Her cheeks turn red and she smiles awkwardly, as if she had somehow forgotten about my disability. Then, she says, “He read my journal.”

I watch her for several moments, waiting for her to elaborate. She doesn’t, so I prompt, “And?”

“And he read it,” she continues, regaining her confidence. “That’s like the number one rule of having a sister. You don’t read her private writings. I don’t know why he would betray me like that.” Tears well at her eyes again, and as a sob shakes her body, I pull her close to me to comfort her. I cast a glance towards Harrison, as if begging him to give us a moment.

When Bethany can speak again, she continues with shaky breaths. “No one is supposed to read the things I put in there. It was private. I never thought anyone would get to it, I don’t even know how he found it, but… I wrote about us, Hunter. And now he thinks—”

She stops talking suddenly, and it takes me a moment to realize Harrison has interrupted her. I follow his words, guessing at what he’d said before I looked up. “...horrid and disgusting. He is your brother.” I watch the way his mouth holds his last word. He accompanies it with the sign language equivalent, ensuring I am reminded of this status. Harrison shakes his head, hard. “I’m not letting this continue,” he says, voice growing louder as if he wants me to hear it. I can only image how ear-splitting it is for Bethany, what the neighbors must be thinking.

I try to ignore the tone of my brother’s voice, the cold look in his eyes. “Beth?” I gently urge. “What did you write?”

“Read it for yourself!” Harrison’s voice is taunting. He hurls a book at me, and I fumble to catch it against my chest. I recognize the sparkly purple cover; Mum had asked my opinion of that birthday present ages ago. I had no idea she still wrote in it.

I look to Bethany, but she will not meet my eye. Uncharacteristically, she does not move to snatch the book out of my hands. I glance at her as I open it, leaf through the pages, and take her silent acceptance as permission.

The first page has big, swooping letters, Bethany’s handwriting from when she was younger. The date atop the page is from several years ago. I skim the book, her endless ramblings and elaborate doodles, until I reach the most recent entries. My eyes soar over the pages, taking in charged words, no offenses. She writes about her teachers, her friends, whatever has her bothered enough to bring her thoughts to pen. I see nothing damning until I turn the page and glance over an entry dated a couple weeks ago.

My attention is caught on my name, the whirlwind of words that follow it. I open my mouth to protest, but I do not know how. What I once skimmed I read now word for word, struggling to understand. I want to stop, to close this book and give it back to my sister, to never know that she’d write such things about me, but the sentences linger in my thoughts, taunting. After a long while I look to my sister. Her gaze is still on the floor, and she shifts awkwardly. Her face is red, and there are tears threatening to fall over her cheeks. I look up at my brother. He clenches his knife, waiting for me to explain myself. I almost understand his anger. Then, I look back to the book, and I wonder how on earth this could have ever happened.

~~~

On the day of Bethany’s seventeenth birthday, Harrison, Mum, and I baked her a cake. It wasn’t common for our family to throw big parties, so Bethany had made plans that night to celebrate with her friends after supper. Once our plates were cleaned, Mum cleared them away, and Harrison and I brought the cake to the dining room table.

The three of us had worked together on it. None of us were bakers, but we wanted Bethany’s birthday to be special. Mum had looked up how to make a tiered cake, and Harrison and I had decorated it in strips of strawberry icing and purple fondant. As we brought it to her, Bethany gasped.

“Did you make that?” she asked, looking at me.

“We all did,” I responded.

We set it in front of her, and Mum dug seventeen tiny candles into the top tier. Bethany glanced between us, joy painted on her face. “You really didn’t have to do this,” she said. “It’s so pretty.”

Mum lit the candles, and the three of us sang to her. She blew out her candles, and absently I wondered what my sister would wish for. Bethany cut through the dessert, and her eyes shone. “It’s marble too? You outdid yourselves.”

As we ate, Harrison got to talking. He was muttering something about his job at the pub, but his mouth was too full for me to make much sense of his exact words. I didn’t much mind, and from the looks of things, Mum and Bethany weren’t paying him much attention either. Growing up, I was always convinced my brother loved to hear himself talk, as if to make up for the fact that I couldn’t.

On the rare occasions the family ate together, I was often lost in my own world. However, I still noticed Bethany stealing glances at me. She would look away when I tried to meet her, and I noticed, unlike usual, she wasn’t chiming in to tell Harrison to shut up. She stabbed absently at her cake when I watched her. I noticed Mum looking at her too, and Bethany seemed to shrink under the attention. It felt as if a silent conversation were occurring between the women in my family, and I did not know what to make of it. Harrison did not even seem to notice.

When everyone had finished, Bethany went to her room to get ready for her outing. Harrison started back to his, likely to prepare for his shift that night. I helped Mum clear away the dishes, but afterwards I would need to get dressed and drive out to meet the orchestra.

In the kitchen, as I set the dishes by the sink, Mum suddenly spoke. She had the kind of voice I could somehow always hear, but she still signed with her words, ensuring I understood. She said my name, sternly, and at twenty-two I still cowered at the sound.

I hesitated. “Yes, Mum?”

She watched me for a moment. Her dark eyes pierced my soul, just as they always had when she was scolding me. She looked away, then asked her question: “What is going on between you and your sister?”

Something about her voice, quiet to my ears, steady, expectant, something about the way her hands punctuated her words, forcefully, clearly; her question unnerved me. I loved my mum, and I had no shortage of respect for her, but she always knew how to make me tremble.

I arched a brow. “I beg your pardon?”

Her words grew quicker, signs sloppier. “You think I’m so naive, don’t you? I’m not blind, Hunter.” She takes a moment to calm herself, begins scooping uneaten cake into a container. “Do you love Bethany?” she asks.

“What?” I turned my full attention to her, searched her face. Her lips were trembling, and though she was trying to hide it, her brows were furrowed. She looked as if she might hit me at any moment. I cleared my throat. “Of course I love her. She’s my sister. We’ve been close her whole life, you know that.”

My answer irritated her. She paused, and a piece of cake fell into the container, crumbling. “That’s not what I meant and you know it,” she bit. She turned to me, eyes a shrouded brown. “Don’t you think you’re too close?”

But I didn’t understand. “Why?” I asked. I took a subconscious step away from her. “What’s wrong with my relationship with my sister?”

“She fancies you, Hunter.” She is blunt, serious. A fear came over her eyes, one I had never seen before. “Don’t you see that?” She looked away. Her free hand shakily signed her silent words: “Do you feel that way about her too?”

I couldn’t believe what she was saying. I knew my mother had always been paranoid, but this was such a stretch, even for her. She was still, contemplating. What answer would she form in my silence? I had to say something, but how could I respond to that?

“No,” I say, the answer she needed to hear. I watched the sigh leave her body. “She’s my sister, Mum. We’re siblings. Beth and I are close, sure, but we’re not… No, that’s…” I couldn’t form the words to explain how I felt about it. I wasn’t sure I knew how to feel about it. I tried to speak more, but my mumbles turned nonsensical.

Mum signed, “Stop.” She glanced behind me, to where Bethany was standing in the doorway of the kitchen. I couldn’t tell if she’d caught any of our conversation. Mum returned to her task, a silent acceptance of the end of that conversation.

Bethany approached me with a cheery grin. She was wearing more makeup than usual, and the paint around her eyes brought out their crystalline blue. Her miniskirt was high on her thighs, and I sent a cautious glance to Mum, wondering if she would comment. Bethany twirled for me, then asked, “What do you think, Hunter?” She said something else, but her unsigned words were lost to me.

I smiled awkwardly, hoping whatever else she’d said wasn’t important. “You look cute,” I replied, but the words felt different now. Again I glanced at Mum, wondering whether my response was brotherly enough.

Bethany’s cheeks colored at my compliment. She curtsied daintily and smiled at me, eyes shining with satisfaction. “Thank you, sweet brother,” she sang. “Good luck at your concert! Sorry I can’t come today. Won’t you give me a private show later?”

I flinched at the unintentional innuendo. Mum was glaring holes into my back. I shifted awkwardly. Was Bethany acting differently from normal? Was she just being her sweet self, or did she really like me? Had I never noticed before? The suggestion terrified me.

She was waiting for an answer. “Oh, um,” I stammered, “Yeah. Have fun with your friends, Beth. Happy birthday, again.”

Her smile grew wider. She signed, “Thank you,” then stepped on the tips of her toes to hug me. She hesitated before doing the same to Mum, then grabbed her keys and headed out the door.

With Bethany gone, I cautiously turned towards Mum. She had moved to washing the dishes and said nothing. I stood before her awkwardly, then retreated to my room, praying Mum and my newfound doubts were wrong about this all.

I wear my hearing aids to all my concerts. With the whole orchestra and the audience relying on me to play properly, I cannot afford to not hear. That night, I did not need my aids to know I played poorly.

My focus was shattered. I had trouble following the music when my head was elsewhere. How many other signs had I missed? Did Bethany treat Harrison differently because she disliked him or because she liked me? How could my sister like me?

After the concert, one of our cellists approached me to ask if I was okay. I didn’t know how to answer her. How could I explain my situation? I just smiled at her, insisted I had to be home before long. She would never understand. I couldn’t even understand.

When I got home that night, I ripped off my hearing aids and threw them in my nightstand, drowning out the world.

Not even the familiar silence could comfort me then. A brother and a sister… Such a thing was unnatural, was wrong—wasn’t it? I didn’t feel that way about her, I was sure of that. And I couldn’t deny that, if these accusations were true, her feelings were valid, and she had every right to feel them, as disgusting and wrong as they were. ...Were they wrong? What made them wrong?

My internal war kept me awake far past when Harrison got home. I saw the light spill under my door, watched the shadows of his footsteps slink to his room. I then realized there was no use in trying to sleep anymore.

I sat up and turned on a lamp. Hoping reading would put me to sleep, I pulled my Kindle from the nightstand and opened my current book. I read slowly, painfully, and I was growing frustrated with how I had to reread each page to make sense of it. Somehow I made it through several chapters when, finally, thankfully, I could feel myself dozing off. I shut off my Kindle and moved to turn off the light, but I caught a glimpse of a shadow under my door.

The doorknob turned, and a blonde head peered into my room. It was far past her curfew. I noticed dark smudges tainting her skirt, and her makeup had run freely down her face. She had been crying.

“Beth?” Immediately I walked to her and wrapped her in a hug. “What happened?”

I led her to the bed, where she collapsed, shaking. I held her for several minutes, a million explanations running through my head. My eyes located my phone, and I mentally rehearsed the emergency call I might have had to make.

Bethany took a deep breath and met my eyes. “I’m sorry,” she signed. She continued her conversation verbally, her sign language not trained enough to keep up with her thoughts. “I didn’t mean to wake you, I just wanted…”

Her lips stopped. I shook my head. “You didn’t wake me,” I assured. I kept my voice at a whisper. Were Mum and Harrison awake? Should I have woken them?

Bethany whispered too, responding to what I had said. The small shapes her lips made were unreadable. She knew I couldn’t understand when people whispered.

Sighing, I pulled open my nightstand and put in my hearing aids. I waited a few moments, taking in the quiet hum of a cricket, the distant call of an owl. I then looked back at Bethany, urging her to continue.

She just stared at me. The shock was clear on her face. She looked at my ears. A question caught somewhere in her throat. “You don’t wear those for anyone,” she mumbled.

“This seems important.”

She turned away, a smile gracing her tear-stained face. “Thank you,” she said. Her voice was very small; even with the hearing aids, I struggled to hear her.

I ran my hands through her hair, trying to soothe her. “Now what’s happened?”

She turned back to me. There was an anger in her eyes. “My friends hate me,” she snarled. “I thought I could trust them, and now they hate me.”

“Why do you think your friends hate you?”

“Because they said so!” She realized she was raising her voice, and she looked to my bedroom door, waiting to hear someone stirring. She then looked back to me. “They’re jealous, I think.”

“What are they jealous of?”

Bethany remained silent. I could see she was debating telling me.

“You can trust me, Beth.” Even in the dark, I could make out the cuts on her exposed legs. Blood had dried on her knees, stained her skirt. Whatever fight my sister had had with her friends, I couldn’t forgive them for hurting her.

She pulled away from me then, and my hand fell to the bed. I watched her, her scared eyes, her shaking hands. “Us,” she answered.

My brows arched. As I was about to ask her what she meant, she slipped two fingers under my chin, and she pulled me closer to her. Her lips came over mine, nervous, lingering. When she moved away, a deep red splashed onto her cheeks. She was smiling.

I didn’t know how to react. Had that just happened? I inched away from her. Mum had been right. But Bethany was just my sister. My mouth hung agape, until I had enough sense to speak. I stammered for a few moments, looking for the right words to describe how I was feeling. How was I feeling? This was wrong, didn’t Bethany realize that? I had to say something, do something, I needed to be the big brother, the responsible adult in this situation, but what could I do…?

“Beth,” I started, but she put a soft finger to my lips to quiet me.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Her gaze fell to the floor, and her smile faded. “You don’t want me like that. I get it. It’s wrong, I know.” New tears bubbled at the corners of her eyes. “I tried so hard to deny this, Hunter. It’s so gross, and I feel gross, but I couldn’t. I can’t deny my feelings. But a brother and a sister, that’s disgusting, and I needed help. I went to my friends, I hoped they could give me some advice, but they didn’t, they hate me, they called me a sick freak, and they’re right. I’m sorry. I can’t help it. Hunter, I love you.”

The pain in her voice chilled me. I wanted to stop her, to beg her to stop speaking, to rip out my hearing aids and silence this nightmare. But her words were said. No one could take them back now.

I struggled to say something to help her. “It’s not that.”

She looked up suddenly, hope flashing in her eyes. “You love me too?”

I silently swore. “Of course, Beth, but as a sister. We’re not supposed to be more than that. It’s wrong.”

“No it isn’t.” She was using my hesitance to her advantage,and in the moment, I hated her for it. She reached for my chin again, and I did not stop her. Her lips lingered longer this time, and her tongue threatened forbidden territory.

Finally, I pulled away, firmly shaking my head. “Bethany, stop this.”

But her hand was already trailing down my side, dancing under my shirt.

I grabbed it and pinned it to the bed instead. “No, Beth, this isn’t right. We shouldn’t do this. You need to stop.”

But she was determined to not listen. She pushed me down and climbed on top of me, straddling me. Panicked, I wondered how this would look to Mum or Harrison, should they for whatever reason open my door. Bethany smiled, and her misplaced confidence scared me. “But I can,” she teased. “Come on, Hunter, don’t you want this too?”

Every part of me was saying no. This was inexcusable. Bethany was my sister, was only seventeen, still a child. With horror, I wondered if I had just been her first kiss. Yet some part of me, deep down, had to admit that I didn’t dislike the kiss. What was so wrong about this, anyway?

Bethany understood my silence as affirmation. She linked her fingers with mine and brought my hand to her mouth, kissed it. Her other hand wandered to my hip, inching downwards. Her touch was light, tantalizing. Was I liking this? I couldn’t have been liking this. I stifled my reactions, could not encourage her. I felt her fingers slip under the waistline of my shorts, and I sat up quickly, batting her hand away.

“I can’t,” I said, “I’m sorry.” There were too many thoughts fighting for my attention, and I knew this maelstrom could not be silenced. How long had all this been on her mind? How long had she suffered through these feelings?

“Hunter,” she sang, “don’t keep teasing your sissy like this.”

“No.” I pulled away from her, and my back hit my bed frame. “Don’t talk to me like that. Actually, I think you should go to bed.”

“But Hunter,” she whined. She was growing impatient. “Don’t you realize? I waited so fucking long for this. Finally this is within my grasp, and I can see you want it too. Stop denying yourself, Hunter. Stop denying me. Let us have this.” She crawled towards me. “We can keep it a secret. No one will ever have to know.”

“Bethany.” The sternness in my tone startled me. “Get out of my room.”

Her eyes widened, stung. She began to protest, but she stopped herself. Defeated, she picked herself off my bed and made her way back to her room, alone.

~~~

We never spoke about what happened. It took months, but I finally managed to force it from my mind, and I prayed Bethany did too.

Our mother died that year. She had been in a car accident that was no one’s fault. The three of us were orphans then, and though we were capable of taking care of ourselves, we deeply mourned the loss of our mother.

Well, Harrison and I did. Bethany’s coping mechanisms were more silent. She seemed unbothered by her death, and I did not know how to understand her grief. If anything, she seemed cheerier with Mum gone. I couldn’t imagine the pain she must have been bottling inside.

A couple months after Mum died, Bethany wandered into my room late at night. She sat on my bed and brushed the curls from my face. I awoke startled, and nearly threw her off the bed. She called to me, but her voice did not meet my ears.

“Beth?” I said, wiping the sleep from my eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Beth smiled. “I’ve been thinking,” she said. I could not hear her at all. “Now that Mum’s gone, we could… you know.”

I rubbed at my eyes again, hoping I was reading wrong. I glanced at my phone. 4:39 a.m. “What?” I sat up straighter, tried to gather my bearings. “What do you mean, now Mum’s gone? Mum’s dead, Bethany. She’s never coming back.”

“I know!” I heard the animation in her voice then. Her smile left me shivering. “So now there are no obstacles, right? We can be together.”

My voice hitched in my throat. Before I could reply, she kissed me, a long and passionate gesture that I did not stop. I had forgotten what her lips tasted like, and suddenly I was overwhelmed by them. I forced myself away from her, far later than I should have.

“What is the matter with you?” I wiped at my mouth, trying to remove the lingering lust there. “No, Beth, we can’t be together. Why can’t you understand that? It’s wrong.”

“Don’t say that.” She reached her fingers through my hair and massaged my scalp. Her nails scratched lightly against my skin. She was teasing me, and I had to stop it.

I grabbed her wrist. “Beth, come on. You should be going out with other people, finding a boyfriend like every other teenage girl.”

“You could be my boyfriend.” She looked at me sweetly. For the first time, I noticed how low her shirt was cut. She had planned this, all of this.

“No,” I stuttered. “No, Beth, you’re… We can’t, I can’t, stop.” I hated how weak I felt, how unsure my voice was. Why couldn’t I put my foot down?

“Why not?” She cocked her head to the side, and her blonde waves fell over her bare shoulder. “You don’t have a girlfriend, and you’re not gay, right?”

“Bethany, listen to me.” I drew in a long breath. “I’m your brother. I’m five years older than you. We shouldn’t be together. What would people think of me, screwing around with my baby sister?”

“No one will find out.” She pressed down on my chest, pushing me down to my bed. In the next moment, she was smacking her lips to mine again. I wriggled from under her.

“I think it’s time to go to bed.”

She opened her eyes and studied me. “Hunter?” Her features softened. The syllables were a whisper. I liked the way she smiled into my name. “You’re not convinced you don’t want this.”

I didn’t know how to admit to myself that she was right. I didn’t know if my reluctance stemmed from not wanting to hurt her or from wanting her. I couldn’t have wanted her—right? I shook my head. “Sometimes, our hearts chase those who can’t love us back,” I said. “All we can do is learn how to move on. It’s time for you to move on, Beth. I’m sorry. I can’t love you like that. I don’t want to. ...I’m sorry.”

~~~ 

I told myself I wouldn’t write anymore entries about this, but I can’t keep this inside. I didn’t know what to do. I had to tell someone, and I thought that they could help me. I tried to tell my friends about my feelings for Hunter. They didn’t take it well at all. Some were sure I was joking, but I told them I wasn’t, and then they got mad. They called me disgusting, and a freak, and then they started attacking me. I never thought my friends would turn on me like that. They pushed me to the ground and threw their drinks at me. I don’t know what I did to deserve that.

When I got home, I didn’t know what to do. I felt so humiliated and betrayed. I went to Hunter’s room, I guess I hoped that he would make it better, and he comforted me. He’s so kind to me. It’s got to be his fault that I’ve fallen in love with him. What girl wouldn’t? He’s really the perfect man, and we have a head start! He already loves me!

When we were in his room, I finally told him how I felt. He was just so kind and caring that I knew nothing would go wrong. He was shocked, and he wanted to deny his feelings, but there was something there. The way he looked at me. The way his fingers lingered on mine, even when he was trying to push me away… Maybe he feels the same way? He must feel the same way!

Since, I can’t stop thinking about us together. We could cuddle under some fluffy blankets as some film plays on TV, and I would whisper in his ear and I just know he’d hear it, and he would whisper back, and all night we would stay up trading sweet nothings, until he pulls me down and kisses me lovingly and passionately, and he would never pull away.

I know this can become reality. I just need Hunter to give us a chance.

~~~

The journal grows heavy in my hands. It contains the words of any teenage crush, of the fantasies and dreams of an adolescent in love. But it’s not just any teenage crush. This book contains the writings of my sister’s crush on me.

Bethany betrays her written word; she continues to write about it. The following entries detail her dirtiest dreams, and I flinch reading them. Finally, I can take no more. A nausea bubbles in the pit of my stomach, threatening release. I am horrified at her attention to detail, her ability to describe everything that has not happened. If anyone else were to read these entries, it would appear as if we have done all she has described.

The journal falls from my hands and lands on the floor. I turn sharply to my brother. “I never—” I begin, but I do not know where to start in defending myself.

“But Hunter!” Bethany yells. I turn to follow her lips. “Haven’t you dreamt of those things, too?”

“Shut up.” Harrison’s voice is loud, ringed with acid. He moves towards us, pointing his knife at Bethany still.

She cowers behind me, petrified.

“You,” Harrison snarls, turning his blade to me. “How dare you. You disgraceful whore. You sick bastard. She’s seventeen. And she’s your…” He looks to her again. “How dare you make a mockery of my mother’s death. You bitch. You fuck around like she isn’t vomiting in her grave. You deserve to die in her place.”

Harrison is growing angrier. I try to soothe him, keep my voice level, my expression neutral. “We didn’t do what she wrote,” I say. I watch the vein snake through my brother’s temple, dark and protruding. His fingers clutch the hilt of his knife firmly, though his hands are shaking. “Harrison, you have to listen to me. We haven’t done anything.”

“We kissed.” Bethany’s voice is a plea.

I turn sharply to her, willing her to not escalate this further. She does not meet my eye. I see determination on her face, a need to convince herself of her reality.

“There’s nothing wrong with a kiss, Harrison,” she continues. “Can’t two siblings share a kiss? Aren’t you just jealous? Jealous that I show your twin affection and not you.” Her voice gains confidence as she continues, while my legs begin to quake. “Hunter and I love each other very much, and you’re just lonely old Harrison. Now that Mum’s gone, you haven’t got anyone else.”

Something in Harrison snaps. Perhaps it’s the tension of this entire ordeal finally catching up to him. Perhaps it’s the thought of his sister daring to defend this incest. Perhaps it’s the silence of his own twin. Or, perhaps it is the mention of our mother, no longer the voice of authority.

I hear him scream, and that inhuman sound seems to clear my ears, for I hear the events that unfold next perfectly.

My brother lunges for me, pushing me against the wall and shoving me out of the way. His blade slices at my arm, leaving a trail of red beneath my sleeve. He goes for Bethany, who shrieks and tries to run, but Harrison is faster, and in the next second, he is plunging the knife into her chest. I hear the way her flesh gives way to metal, and it is a sound I will never forget.

There is no time to gather my bearings. I force myself up, biting through the pain in my back, and try to pry the knife from my deranged brother. Never in our lives have I seen him like this, so monster-like. My fear for my safety gives way to the need to defend my sister. Her screaming is all I can hear, the volume and clarity all I can focus on.

Somehow, I manage to grab the knife, and I wince as its blade cuts my fingers. Harrison, the bigger and stronger twin, wrestles it away from me. Helpless, I try to defend myself as he slashes as me. Blood flies between us, blurring my vision. I need to get away, but if he is focused on me, maybe Bethany can escape.

Soon, Harrison loses interest in me. He turns back to Bethany, small and terrified, huddled in a corner. He begins kicking at her, screaming insult after insult. I throw myself at him, trying to pull him away. He punches me square in the jaw, then again in the head, dazing me. I struggle to catch his blows, all the while trying to see Bethany.

She is still, and blood begins to pool around her. The sight of her fills me with a new willpower. As Harrison tries to punch me again, I summon all my strength, and I punch him across the face.

He is startled, but an eerie smile soon spills onto his lips. He wipes the blood now dripping from his nose. “In all our years, Hunter,” he says, “I’ve never once seen you fight back.” He gets ready to continue this fight.

Somehow, I find it in me to keep hitting him. I aim for his face, his throat, anywhere he leaves exposed. Each of my punches grows stronger. I don’t know if I’m trying to protect my sister anymore, or if I am trying to vent my feelings about this all.

~~~

I don’t know when the ambulance arrives, or who calls for it. I remember passing out shortly after Harrison did, and when I wake again, I am not in my mother’s house. My sunlight and silence do not greet this day. The harsh lamps blind me, and I can just make out the steady, muffled cry of an EKG.

I’m at the hospital. IVs trail up my arms and under my gown. Red-tinted bandages cover my hands and arms. The itchy fabric of the pale gown irritates the stitches on my abdomen.

A nurse walks in then, and when she sees that I am awake she smiles warmly. I ask her about my sister, but she swears she cannot disclose anything about her yet. I demand someone else; someone has to tell me how Bethany is.

It is only hours later that I learn about my siblings’ conditions from a different nurse. Harrison is suffering from a broken hand and wrist, a broken jaw and nose. Once he awakens, he will need to face the consequences of his actions. I am told I will have to do the same.

Bethany has been unconscious for hours. The wound in her chest was dangerously close to her heart, and she is suffering from a concussion. The doctors do not know when she will wake, whether she will wake. She will likely sustain brain damage, I am told, though no one can guess at the severity.

When the nurses let me, I visit Bethany. The EKG’s call is the only sign she is alive. I sit on her bed and run my hands through her hair, now tangled and unkempt. I brush my hands against her cheek, wince at its cold. I then hold her hand and sigh.

I feel her grasp weakly tighten. Her eyes flutter open, and recognition crosses her face. “Hunter,” she whispers. Her eyes droop, and I resent this dull image of this beautiful, vibrant girl.

“How are you feeling?”

She doesn’t seem well enough to answer me yet, so she responds with a shrug. She turns away, taking in her new surroundings.

We sit in silence for several minutes. She struggles to breathe, and when she tries to move, the pain washes over her body. Finally, she looks to me. “Thank you,” she says. “For saving me.”

I shake my head. “Don’t speak,” I say. “Save your energy.”

She grabs my hand. Her mouth forms the shapes I’ve seen many times. Perhaps I had always interpreted them wrong before now. “I love you.”

Cautiously, my eyes sweep the room. I peer behind the divider, look to the empty bed beside us, the hallway. Nurses scurry back and forth, too busy to care about us.

I move over Bethany and, delicately, I place a kiss on her lips.

Her eyes widen in surprise. She uses what little energy she has to kiss me back.

When we pull away, I see that smile I have come to love so much.

“I love you too,” I tell her.

She sighs, and with that, she closes her eyes and falls asleep.

[mulliganisms]

I saw 3 sips then I had a bells

Nothing beats the old fashioned pub  especially an Irish one but they are now virtually extinct. We should share pictures of property developers jangling their keys outside of closed boozers on Facebook to shame them.  Liverpool Rd N1 mid 70s, one such pub open on a Christmas night -the key to a great holiday for Himself. Himself has to get out Christmas night- his sire, Aulfella was always rearing up, undoing the hard work of Mam. Aulfella was capable of loving or hating anything at any given, depending on his temper. He hid his good moods in the same place as his money - under the carpet in the front room, reaching for them both when he was on his way to Da pub or da club.

Your best guess as to the name of a pub where the Provisional IRA paper An Phoblacht was sold openly, tricolours decorated the wall and the jukebox featured anti -internment hit The Men Behind The Wire? The Crown of course ( I always add upside down as a nod to the Celtic FC halftime favourite Irish Soldier Laddie) For Himself the test of a decent Irish bar is the Guinness - you can tell a decent pint when you can see mark of each sip on the side of the glass. I offer three swallows for you this season - let’s start with a huge, thirsty gulp.

Liverpool Rd N1 mid 70s, a proper Irish pub The Crown. Himself is there with his first proper girlfriend - Dixie. They are deep into their relationship having met across a crowded home and wear department in Tesco Chapel Market. I’m Not In Love played, his hands on her waist and...breathe (exhale loudly. A glance down at the gap left between the skin  of her back and the waistband of the Wranglers reveals a possible future of bliss - the white bra strap shining in the UV light. ..a reverie...were these the hips that turned a thousand faces and burnt red these cheeks of Islington? A small cry escapes her lips - Sorry love - those plastic sandals are harder to manoeuvre than the Green Flash I normally wear for dancing.

Mam was of a somewhat sunnier frame of mind - where she hid when depression struck we never did find out though Himself and  Dabrudders found most of her hiding places. In earlier years, Accomodation was an old store of some kind affectionately known as the shop. Upstairs one bedroom,with two bunk beds and a cot a sitting room with a pull down bed and a stereogram. Downstairs a shop floor with building gear covered in dust sheets, a kitchen with coal fired stove leading out to a yard. The toilet was reached by a run through a coal cellar sometimes fast, sometimes slow ,,, record time on return from a camping trip in Youghal which included The Return of Dracula one night (rather lax enforcement of X certificate in Ireland) and waking next morning to discover the tent had been pitched beside a slaughterhouse - sheep skulls stretched out in greater numbers as the tide retreated from the stony atlantic shore.

In the cupboard in this  dungeon was where the Christmas presents were hid - and played with/ sometimes ruined long before the day. Mam commented on the odd angle of the crossbar on the subbuteo goals - a few years later we could’ve blamed the Tartan army saying it was a souvenir set of Wembley 77. Himself just used a Swan vesta and Mam’s hairnet to repair it (the onion bag not being to scale).

The shop went as part of slum clearance, as did most of the other condemned buildings. Himself and his moved into the renovated Victorian terrace - into the nineteen seventies - bathrooms and central heating , into the peak of Equality in the UK. The new neighbours’ eldest worked part time at Tesco Chapel Market and through this network Himself impressed enough at interview to collar a role packing cheese and butter then progressing to staffing the Deli counter in a double act with younger brother Seamus. Union membership guaranteed good wages which rose in line with inflation of which there was plenty .

Time honoured courting process was in place from the first time he saw the poppers on the nylon housecoat struggling to contain the developing curves. His cotton overall hid his embarrassment but not his intention - all boys schools did not prepare you well for this. Even the Drama teacher the fifth form swooned over paled in comparison. And then their story started - a word in his shell like -not a letter in the Hardy/ Shakespeare/ Tolstoy mould but a hand gesture to approach a friend - not like today. Sexting was Chelsea’s cup winning manager, Mobiles were Airfix planes on string and pawn featured in a passage from Christy Brown’s  Down All My Days which Aulfella could recite by heart - the good suit went in Monday and was redeemed for Sunday mass. Himself was onto a sure thing - if he asked her to dance at the Xmas social she’d say yes.

Consider the obstacles there: asking - the potential for rejection greater than the selection of the Park football sides where every choice was carefully considered to produce a finely calibrated balance. Fourth best defender gone would you select the second best header without the guarantee you’d land a crosser from the top five?  Dancing here did not mean a hustle a bump or even the ska shuffle all of which he could handle. No The Smiley’s People double agent meant a slow dance. So he watched the couples, the elder siblings the pairings of someone’s mate and someone’s sister. Some still together celebrating their second grandchild…

It worked, Nature  took over they “got off”, “pulled” and then they were “going out”. This did not mean going out that much as funds were somewhat limited, opportunities even moreso. There was a date culminating in a faint prompted by a Sissy Spacek  bloodbath scene. The Odeon Holloway Rd witnessed many a coitus interruptus in its years and this apology laden nursing scene in the foyer echoed many of the experiences Himself and Herself played out. Himself caught the climax of the film   a few years later at college ; ditto the coitus although that was more to do with a Malt Liquor (Breaker, Colt 45 ) for 10p promotion - and  Carrie herself could not have levitated his head  off the pillow the next morning.

No, going out meant staying in with the occasional foray for a coke float at Wimpy with unattached girlfriends (never my mates) including Margaret.  Sitting indoors then in a council maisonette. The sitting room was long with the auditorium seats pointed at the shrine - the rented colour set delivering nightly delights. On the sofas, the Elder sister and Geezer fiancee (saving for wedding so not going out) on the armchairs Graham and Ivy the parents, Between them our would be lovers. Telly and smoking that was the evening - Whan the Bert Comes In, Carry On something and Rich Man Poor Man. .When the folks went dahn ve Legion the vinyl came out - Atlantic Crossing with its slow side and fast side and David Essex’s concept album All the Fun of the Fair. Himself had just begun to achieve some minor plateaued competence on the Hofner Guitar Aulfella had bought from a Showband mate (typically flamboyant gesture and much loved) so this obviously was the equivalent of a masters in Musicology allowing him to pontificate and evaluate all music ever created or about to be - for Heads like him and his best mate Pat most music was judged and unless suitably complex, the black cap came out. Himself kept these opinions to hisself or there would be no goodbye fumble in the porch, no warm lips, no ambition destroyed by parental knock, no warmth enough to see him the ten minute walk home.

But in the Crown buoyed by a half pint the opinions flowed as freely as the song. Xmas evening found them with unattached friend Margaret and her extended family of Lydons as in John. The patrons rotated the singing some better than others but all applauded/ gently ribbed then it came to John himself. He starts doing white Christmas, HImself  joins in forcing JL to go faster,make more of a mess of the melody, savour the lyric, thrash it - invent punk This bit might be somewhat exaggerated in memory, especially as JL was not even there.

That’s the first sip now the second and the third, happy ending.

That Pub, When the comedian Himself returned to The Crown years later it had become Waxys Dargle - a theme Irish bar, Shane Mcgowan’s local, etc. Singing would get you barred. There were no old men in suits and ties. Now it is a block of flats. Himself remembered the Goldsmiths Tavern in New Cross - put up a sign no  hats / no guinness - code for  No Blacks no Dogs no Irish I guess. That sign always conjured up an image of Phil Lynott  trudging from door to door whispering to the Jack Russell nestling beneath his Afghan coat - dont worry me darling their women go mad for me. One year, Himself and da family minus one acted in chorus and decamped to The George in Essex Rd where with the families of Dabrudder’s Sunday football side they created a kind of mad  talent show where audience and performers became one - a communion as Boal would call it. Twas grand - it’s now a gastropub where three organic cherries on the slot machine means a village in Cambodia gets a new goat. the pub quiz includes questions based on the budapest metro map of 1959 and it offers 65 different ales in flavours like panetonne and panfried liver but only one mode of atmosphere - tedious. Gentrification as effective a migration prompt as Potato blight.

Gentrifiers

Chorus - Making your town cool - house price house price house price school - repeat ad nauseam

We think buy to let’s an absolute disgrace/ glad we bought 5 at the old stamp duty rate

Here’s to our genius - or was it / our parents stumping up the dough for the deposit

Agents call this place Shoreditich Lite/  I call it prosecco - bubbly bland and white

So pass the craft ale pass the tapenade / if someone mentions brexit pass the hand grenade

Otag kebab’s been skewered by souvlaki food carts/ I loathe graffiti but our kids study street art

Pie and mash, licquor, winkles and wallies are all rebooted as cuisine a la cockney

Fiver for a loaf of bread a petition vs. greggs / Costa flipping coffee costa flipping arm and leg

Can’t buy malt vinegar to put upon your plate just condiment fundamentalists of balsamic state

Riding Monday then flute, Latin Greek / by Tuesday we’re into the rhythm of the week

Lance flunked the grammar despite all the tutors So Granny pays the fees at st mediocres

Everywhere the skips and signs shout out: we’re cooling up your town - time to get out

Repeat chorus and fade