#they are convinced she is on testosterone for tour

[iwatcheditbegin]

Dear lord somehow Gaylors have gotten even more unhinged. They have decided that Taylor’s lower voice means she’s is / was on testosterone. As if overuse doesn’t make your voice temporarily sound different or like her voice isn’t the same just slightly raspy

[walshnikki]

A pounding was building behind her eyes, the first sign of an impending migraine, but she set her teeth and ignored it. They had far too tight of a production schedule for anyone to be any less than 100%, even herself. God only knows what might what happen if there was no one to corral the hot-blooded wrestlers and keep them from blowing up. The segment on this show might only be 15 minutes, but that was 15 minutes on regional airwaves. It was just the exposure that they needed to kick off this press run. First regional tv, then national tv would want in.

The pressure on this segment was enough to make Nikki’s stress levels uncomfortable high, but the prospect of what was to come next was making her jittery. When she’d coordinated this nearby state media tour, she’d never imagined she’d be making the circuit with them, but Jack had wisely pointed out that this plan was her baby and as such she was the best person to keep the group on task. With her obligations as caretaker covered by the overnight nursing staff agency, Nikki had no reason to deny her boss’ request that she make the journey with the core group…

What’d he neglected to tell her, however, was that their mode of transportation was one of two vinyl-wrapped tour buses (apparently a gift from their generous financial backer.) With a group of eight on this press road-trip, they’d broken up into two groups of four, Nikki should count herself lucky that she ended up sharing with Crystal, Bobby, and Jack. It was certainly better than ending up the only woman on a bus full of testosterone!

Sharing such a tight space with any other person was hard enough, but to do so with Jack? That was a challenge of epic proportions if ever Nikki encountered one. It wasn’t that she thought cohabitating with him would be overly taxing, no more so then sharing space with Bobby and Crystal, or that she found his company unpleasant. The truth of the matter was she liked Jack; a little too much. He was handsome, charming, hard working, creative, & driven. From the moment they met on that summer day over lawnmowers, he’d occupied many an errant thought in her mind. At first she’d written it off as Her being desperate for connection in this strange new town. Only problem was it didn’t stop even when she made acquaintances and friends in Duffy. Eventually even hers self delusions gave way to reality: she was majorly crushing on her new boss.

All the men in town who could have caught her eye and she had to be into the most unavailable guy among Duffy’s residents. The man was off-limits by every definition of the term: he was older than she was, he was her boss, and, oh yeah, he was a married family man. It was hopeless crush that would have to burn out eventually. Traveling in a recreational vehicle with him for a week was an exercise in denial and unresolved personal tension, but it was her job.

She would just have to woman up and power trough. First thing was first, though, the segment was wrapping up and from her vantage point hidden off set, she could just see Ace pushing his way into Jack’s space, making the hosts wonder for a breathless moment if a brawl might break out right then.

“Clear!” shouted the director, sending everyone working on stage and off it to spring in action. There were only a few minutes of advertisements and the next segment was a cooking one. Fighting her way through the hubbub, Nikki sided up to her people as they returned backstage.

“That was great guys, very convincing!” Nikki told them brightly, “Audiences are going to be hooked on this brother-vs-brother, who will come out on top?” She shot both brothers a conspiratorial look, “That age old question will draw people in and your story for the shows will keep them there.”

@kingoftheheels

[slowly-writing]

Part of the Family: Part 6

Avengers x Kid!Reader

Part 1   Part 7

Word Count: 2274

a/n: Hey y’all! Here’s part 6! I wanted to let y’all know I have a few pretty important tests this week so I’m not sure how active I’ll be, but I’ll try to still get some stuff out for you guys. Have a great day!

After that day you started hanging out with Peter more at school, you and MJ merging in with him and Ned to form one friend group. You even stayed with Peter and his aunt when the whole team had to go to Sokovia. You had begged them to let you come but they refused. It was too high profile of a mission with too much room for injury. Your parents were still just a little too protective for your liking, so for now you had to watch the news and wait for them to come back.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts as you hear people yelling down the hall.

“Hey! It’s Penis Parker!” Flash yells as Peter walks into school.

You walk up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “hey buddy. Leave him alone, alright?”

You tower over him but Flash doesn’t know how to be intimidated apparently, and he refuses to back down, “why do you hang out with that loser anyway?”

“Because unlike you, he has a personality outside of being a dick. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to be anywhere but here,” you smirk as Flash’s friends laugh and walk back towards MJ.

“Hey, thanks y/n,” Peter says as he and Ned walk over, “I’m trying to keep the whole, uh, internship on the downlow.” You nod, acknowledging that he doesn’t want to say the truth with so many people around.

“I get it. That ship sailed for me a while ago, but you’re a part of the team now. We’ve got each other’s backs. If he keeps bugging you, let me know, yeah?”

Peter nods before walking off to class, you smile after him, he’s kind of turning into the brother you never had. He’s part of the family now, and you always take care of your family.

“You’re a good person, you know that?” MJ asks and you blush.

“It’s uh...the serum. I can’t help it,” you try to brush it off but she grabs your hand looking up at you.

“No it’s not. You and I both know that serum just brings out what’s already inside you. You’re a good person, and that’s all you.” She says and you smile down at her, “now c’mon. Let’s get to class, loser.”

You laugh, “you’re incapable of showing feelings for more than 30 seconds at a time, huh?”

“Shut up, Jr,” she teases and you roll your eyes.

xxxxx

“Thank you for dinner Miss Parker. And thank you again for letting me stay here while my parents are out of town,” you say and Peter’s aunt smiles at you.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me May? And of course, you’re welcome here anytime, y/n.”

“Thank you, May.”

“So what did you say your parents do?” She asks and you look to Peter who shrugs.

“You can tell her if you want.”

“Tell me what?” She asks and you smile.

“They’re, um…they’re Avengers. Black Widow and Captain America. I kinda am too. They had to leave on a mission. Normally I’d stay in the tower with whoever was left, but this was kind of a whole team sort of situation,” you explain and her eyes get wide.

“Wow, I knew I recognized your last name from somewhere. If it was a whole team thing why aren’t you with them?” she says and you smile.

“Yeah I get that a lot. They’re a bit protective. They don’t like to admit that I can help. I’ve been training with them since I was twelve and I think sometimes they still see me as a little kid,” you say with a laugh.

“That makes sense. I don’t know how I’d handle it if Peter was off doing what you do. That’s very admirable of you,” she says and you and Peter exchange a look.

“Um...yeah. Thank you,” you say softly.

xxxxx

“Come on Parker, one more rep!” You encourage Peter as he finishes his workout. You had come to the tower to use the training room. People looked at you funny when you bench pressed hundreds of pounds at the gym.

“Man, I may have the strength, but you definitely have the stamina y/n.” Peter says and you groan.

“Please don’t start that whole strongest Avenger fight right now. It never ends. My dad and I have been arguing about it since before he was my dad,” you say rolling your eyes. MJ laughs from her spot next to you. She’s sitting criss cross on an empty bench reading a book. You’ve long since stopped trying to get her to participate in your workouts but she always comes to keep you company.

“You were raised around way too much testosterone, y/n,” MJ stays and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t I know it. I swear heightened testosterone levels were a requirement to live here. I don’t know how mom and I survived.”

“By being the smartest people here,” your mom says from the door and you grin.

“Hell yeah we are!” You say, running over to hug her. “How was the mission?”

“The mission went fine. It was a tough one but we made it out, we always do,” she says and you smile at her. “Also, don’t let your dad hear you talk like that, he’ll yell ‘language’ at you,” she jokes and you laugh.

“I know he’s from the 40s but he really needs to get with the times.”

“Who needs to get with the times?” Steve walks through the door and you shake your head.

“Oh great, it’s a family affair. Did you guys need something?” You tease, but really you’re glad that they’re both home safe. You always get a little stressed when they’re gone. Your dad puts a hand over his heart.

“Our little girl is all grown up, she doesn’t need us anymore,” your mom says, wiping fake tears from under her eyes.

“They grow up so fast. It feels like just yesterday she was taking her first steps,” your dad joins in and you can hear Peter and MJ laughing behind you.

“You do realize you didn’t meet me until I was twelve, right? Is the old age finally getting to you dad?” You tease and he laughs.

“Very funny. Anyway, we were coming to tell you guys that we’re all home and dinner's almost ready, unless of course you don’t want food,” your dad goes to leave and both you and Peter jump to stop him.

“No!” You yell in unison cause the other three to laugh.

“We just gotta hit the showers real fast, we’ll be down in a minute!” You say and Peter looks at you.

“Race you!” He yells before taking off toward the locker room.

“You’re going down, Parker!” You yell, running after him.

“Miss Romanoff, I really think all that testosterone is getting to her,” MJ says with a laugh and your mom places a hand on her shoulder.

“You’ve got no idea, kid.”

xxxxxxx

“Hey guys!” Clint walks in to dinner a few minutes late, “I come bearing our newest recruit! She helped us out in Sokovia.” He says as a girl with brown hair and a shy smile step out from behind him.

“Hello, everyone. I didn’t really have time to introduce myself in all the chaos. I’m Wanda,” the girl says, with a thick accent.

“What is this, teenager recruitment week? Can MJ join up, too?” You tease and Clint rolls his eyes.

“We’re not making your girlfriend an Avenger because you think it’d be cute.” Tony says and you blush looking away.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” you grumble and MJ laughs.

“Only cause you won’t ask me out,” she says with a smirk and your jaw drops .

“Wait, what?” You look at her with wide eyes.

“Y/n, flirt later. Introduce yourself now,” your mom cuts in, snapping you out of your stupor.

“Huh? Oh yeah. Hey Wanda, I’m y/n. I’m the resident teenager around here. This is Peter, he’s on the team with us, and this is my friend MJ.”

“Your potential girlfriend if I heard correctly,” Wanda cuts you off and you glare.

“Yeah she’s gonna fit in fine,” you say rolling your eyes as she laughs. “Anyway! Neither of them live here, but they’re here all the time.  Everyone else stays here and they’re all members of the team. My parents Natasha and Steve, and that is Tony and Bruce. You’ve obviously met Clint.”

“That’s a lot of names,” Wanda laughs nervously and you smile.

“Don’t worry, I’ve had years to get this down. You’ll get there. Are you moving in?” You ask and she nods, “cool! Well, how about you join us for dinner and then Peter, MJ, and I can give you the tour. You three are lucky by the way! I only had all the old guys to show me around. They didn’t tell me that you could play video games on the screens in the lab or about the secret passageway to the roof.”

“Secret what now?”

“Nothing, mom!” You say, avoiding eye contact, causing everyone else to laugh.

xxxxx

“Hey, now that there’s more teenagers here can I drop out of school again?” You ask the next morning at breakfast and your dad laughs.

“Nice try, kid” Tony says and you sigh.

“Again?” Wanda asks and you nod.

“I dropped out when I first got here. I didn’t quite have control of my strength and they were trying this whole joint parenting thing. With 5 parents I could pretty much always convince one of them to give me my way. Then they adopted me and dad went on a power trip and put me back in school,” you tease and your dad rolls his eyes.

“Since when is making sure you get an education a power trip?” Steve asks.

“Since I could’ve been training and making sure I was ready for any danger that could arise.”

“Like wrenches?” Your mom teases as she walks in and you groan.

“When are you gonna let that go? I was a little kid!”

“Wrenches?” Wanda asks and you sigh.

“There was an accident in the lab when I first moved in. Long story short, I was helping Tony and he wasn’t paying enough attention leading to me getting hit in the face with a wrench and needing stitches,” you explain and she tries to hide her laugh.

“They won’t let me live it down,” you groan.

“Are you complaining about the wrench again?” Tony asks and you throw your hands in the air.

“Mom brought it up again. It wasn’t me!”

“Sure, y/n. Whatever you say,” he teases and you roll your eyes.

“You know what? I take it back. I don’t want to drop out. I’m going to school to get away from you crazy people!” You yell, grabbing your bag and heading for the door.

“Wait!” Your dad calls, “Wanda is going to start at your school today. Show her around, okay?”

“Yeah sure, welcome to the American education system kid,” you say leading her out the door.

“It surely can’t be as weird as they say it is, can it?” She asks and you laugh.

“It’s worse, there’s videos of my dad for almost every subject. You’ll hate it, let’s go.”

xxxxxx

“So how do you wanna play this?” You ask as you climb off your dirt bike, since you had turned 16 your mom finally let you drive it to school. Luckily she was a little groggy this morning and didn’t have time to put together that you don’t have a spare helmet. It’s not like you really need one anyway, you always give it to MJ when you sneak out to take her on rides.

“What do you mean?” Wanda asks as you lead her into school.

“Do you want to tell people you’re joining the Avengers? Everyone knows about me, but Peter keeps it a secret,” you explain and she nods.

“They’ll all find out eventually, right?” she says and you nod. “Then we can tell them. It’s okay.”

“It’ll hopefully help you get made fun of less,” you say and her eyes get wide, “Don’t worry. Most of them are scared of me. Stick with me and you’ll be good.”

“Hey, Captain Widow!” Somebody yells as you walk in and you nod in their general direction. That had become your sort of unofficial superhero name, but you kind of enjoyed it.

“Who’s the new kid?” Flash says stepping in front of you.

“This is Wanda, she’s joining the Avengers with me,” you say and he smirks.

“New teenager kick, I like it. Can I join?” he asks and you roll your eyes.

“You have to have some actual talent for that one, now, if you don’t mind, I’m pretty sure being in your presence is killing my brain cells,” you say stepping around him.

“Flash bugging you again?” Peter asks as you walk up and you shrug.

“He just wants to seem cool, he doesn’t do a very good job of it though.”

“You can say that again,” Ned says and you laugh.

“Oh, right! Wanda this is Ned, Ned this is Wanda, she just moved into the tower,” you introduce.

“Nice to meet you!” Ned says and Wanda smiles at him.

“Are you coming over today?” you ask MJ softly and before she can respond Peter cuts in.

“When does she not? She’s there more than I am and I’m on the team!”

“Watch it spiderboy,” you say and he raises his hands in surrender.

Tag list: @rvgrsbrns

Series Tag list: @hannahsairwave

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Ready now; Queen x reader

*Author’s note*

To the anon who requested this from way back when, I first wanna thank you for being SUPER PATIENT with me.  I was going through a lot at the time you sent the request but I am slowly but surely getting through them. Eventually once I get the chance, I may open requests back up again.

Now there’s not really any serious warnings other than swearing, fluff, and angst.  I hope you all enjoy this fic and until next time stay safe, stay healthy, stay positive.

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@platawnic

@queensdivas

@geek-and-proud

@queendeakyy

@kairosfreddie

____________________________________________________________

*Oklahoma city, Oklahoma, 1976*

It was like every other Wednesday night at COWBOY’S.  The live dancing, bull riding, and of course the famed karaoke night.  I’ve been coming to this club for as long as I can remember, in fact I think I was a kid when I first came here.  It was to see my mama sing for karaoke night and of course my dad is known around here as the world champion bull rider.

He kept that title from the time he was 16 up till just before I was born.  And because of his reputation, I (and I hate to admit it) but I get special treatment every time I go to Cowboy’s.  In fact the current owner, he was my dad’s longtime friend and fellow bull riding competitor.

As I walked inside I could already see the place was packed with people.  Line dancing and really lighting up the dancefloor making this club a real Hoedown. I first went up to the bar and there running it was the owner’s son, Jensen.  He and I go way back, even though he’s like seven years older than me, he treats me like his little sis.  Always keeping the boys away.

“Well, well, well, well, well. Look who walked in. It’s the singing sensation (Y/n) (L/n). Can I just say I am a huge fan of yours!” He teased me at the end.

“Oh Jensen stop it. You know I’m not famous yet.”

“Not yet, but you will be soon.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“Okay hang on, let me get your usual and then you spill your guts.” He walked away and got my usual beer and filled it almost up to the rim.  He slid it towards me and he said as he leaned up against the bar, “Alright now talk.” I took a sip of my beer before saying.

“What if no one likes my song?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Jens you know as well as I do that no one really sings original pieces here. It’s always covers of famous songs, and the last time someone did do an original he was booed off the stage.”

“First off, his song sucked and he kept screwing up on the guitar. So of course he was thrown off the stage. But you—you’ve got a serious talent in song writing. And your voice—baby girl the only other female singer I can compare you to here was your mom.”

“You really think so?”

“Coming from a Texas man forced to move here when we first met, you’re bout the only good thing in this one horse town. Hell you’re way better than just sticking right here. Especially since—well you know.”

“I know. It’s……it’s been rough. Ever since the car crash mama’s been—well not herself lately. Music is bout the only thing I can do to make her happy.”

“So you get up on that stage and knock these cow-folks right off their boots. Now go relax on the dance floor and I’ll let my old man know you’re here.”

“Thanks Jensen.” I pulled out my wallet to pay for the beer but he stopped me.

“No need, this one’s on my tab tonight. But expect to pay me back once you hit the big time.” I smiled at him and pocketed my wallet back into my jeans.

“Thanks Jensen, you’re like the brother I never had.”

“Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you yah silly little day dreamer.” He teased as he placed his cowboy hat on top of my head, teasingly rocking my head from side to side till I stuck my tongue at him and took another swig of my beer.

I then headed off to the dance floor to cool off (dancing always helped me calm down, especially when it’s with a group of people) and I danced with some of my old friends from high school, just letting my hair down as I danced the first hour of the night away before they would call up the performers for karaoke night.

*3rd Person POV*

Unbeknownst to (Y/n), it was also on that night that the most famous rock and roll band would also be there on that night to see her perform.  Freddie Mercury, Brian May, Roger Taylor, and John Deacon, otherwise known as the band Queen, had just arrived in Oklahoma city to do their two night concert they had scheduled for their “A day at the Races” tour.

To let down some steam and relax after a few days on the road, Freddie had heard about this club from a friend of his and convinced the other three to come along and check it out.  All four of them wearing cowboy hats, so that they wouldn’t stick out like sore thumbs, they entered inside and saw the whole place buzzing.

“Wow, this is even more filled than the Disco club Veronica and I met at.” Said John.

“Well Tony said this was the one place in America where you would get a traditional Southern treatment.” Said Freddie. “And I like it. It’s reputation proceeds itself.” He continued with a smile as he adjusted his hat.

“Remind me again why we had to wear these though?” Roger said.

“Don’t be such a party pooper blondie. Besides you see every man in here. Tony said that everyone in Oklahoma wears cowboy hats. Anyone who doesn’t is automatically labeled a stranger. And I don’t want no Wanted poster of me across the state for refusal to wear a cowboy hat.” Freddie said as he playfully shoved Roger.

“It’s not so bad.” Brian said as he fiddled with the string of his hat.

“You’re just saying that cause you can’t feel it on your head.” Quipped John.

“Alright, alright Deacy darling you’ve had your shot at Bri. Now I don’t want any more brawls tonight. I wanna enjoy this night, you three know how much I love to party. So don’t fuck this up for me.”

“If you wanted that Fred then you should’ve left Roger on the bus.” Brian said.

“You know what yah curly haired space poodle……”

“Gentlemen.” The four of them turned to see an old man around his mid-50’s walk up towards them.  He wore a traditional brown colored cowboy hat, his grey goatee reflected off the lights, and the spurs off his boots jingled with each step. “Now I get it we all need to let off some steam, but if you’re gonna cause any trouble I’m gonna ask you all to leave.”

“No worries my good sir. You must forgive my friend here, he didn’t quite have him fixed yet so his testosterone can run him ragged like one of your bulls.” Freddie sweet-talked the man.

“Watch it Fred!” Roger sneered as he took out a cigarette and lit it up.

“Alright. I’m trusting you to keep an eye on your friend there. I get enough drunks brawling every night here, I don’t need another damage fee added to my billing. Bobby Singer, owner of Cowboy’s.”

“Pleasure to meet you Bobby dear. I heard about this place from a friend of mine and this place does not disappoint.” Freddie praised as he and Bobby shook hands with each other.

“Thank you son. Built this place myself with my own two hands before moving the wife and son up here.”

“How long has this place been here?” asked Brian.

“Well came up here around 51, bought this property at around 53-54 and the doors finally opened by the start of the 60’s so…..about 16 years this club has been around. And she’s still going strong.”

“Impressive.” Freddie praised.

“What kind of drinks do you serve here?” asked Roger.

“Well if you mosey on down to the bar, my son Jensen will lay down everything we got. We mostly do beer but if you can take something stronger, we got that as well. Enjoy yourselves boys.” As Bobby walked away, the boys bid him farewell.

“He seemed nice.” John said.

“A friendly old man, kinda reminds me of Miami. Firm, strict, knows when you’re starting trouble Rog.”

“Watch it Fred.”

“Alright come on, I think we can all do with a drink right now.”

“Yes.”

“Or ten.” the band members walked over to the bar to see Jensen cleaning out a mug.

“Excuse me darling!” Freddie cried out to Jensen.

“Yes can I he—he-ha-ha……oh shit! You’re….you guys are Queen!”

“Yes. I take it you’re a fan of ours?” asked Brian.

“Y-Yeah.” Jensen squeaked.  He then cleared his throat before continuing, “I mean yes. When I first heard Bohemian Rhapsody for the first time, it changed my life on how I look at music. Not even some of my favorite bands can do what you guys do.”

“Well thank you darling. Bohemian Rhapsody was a masterpiece.” Freddie said.

“But a complete nightmare to make.” Roger added in.

“So what can I get for you guys?” asked Jensen.

“What all do you got?” asked John.

“Well you guys actually came on a good day. Wednesday nights are our special’s night. Every drink at half price. We’ve basically got every beer imaginable, but we also do vodka, gin and juice, margaritas. And of course we have the basic water and soda for those sensitive to the strong stuff.”

“Well then my darling, we’ll go ahead and take three of your finest beer and a vodka shot please.” Freddie said.

“Coming right up.” Jensen walked off to prep the drinks for the four young band members.

“He seems like a nice chap.” Brian said.

“He does indeed.” Agreed John.  Before another word could be said, Bobby soon came up on stage and said.

“And that was Carol Anne with ‘Sweet home Alabama’.” The crowd then cheered. “And now ladies and gents, it’s time to be graced by our very own special songbird. Please welcome our very own Southern Belle. (Y/n) (L/n)!” the crowd cheered and it was then the four English rockers soon saw a young woman coming up on stage.

She looked to be about John’s age, maybe a couple years younger.  In her hand was a 12 string acoustic, she got onto the stool and adjusted the mic.

*My POV*

God my nerves were really starting to get the best of me.  What if no one liked the song? Oh god I wish daddy could be here, he always knew just how to calm me down.  I adjusted the mic and plugged in my guitar.

“Hello everyone. I uhh—” I cleared my throat. “Tonight I’m gonna do something a little different than my last few performances. This is an original piece I’ve been working hard on. Hope you all like it.” I turned towards the ensemble band and nodded to them.  They nodded back and as I began playing the opening on my mama’s guitar, Aaron came in with the violin and Jack soon came in with the bass.  

By the chorus, Daniel came in with a soft drum beat and as I passionately sung out the chorus, I could already hear some people cheering or whistling at me.

She was driving last Friday on

Her way to Cincinnati on a

Snow white Christmas Eve Going home to see her mama and her daddy

With the baby in the backseat Fifty miles to go, and she was running low

On faith and gasoline It'd been a long hard year She had a lot on her mind,

And she didn't pay attention She was going way too fast Before she knew it she was spinning on a

Thin black sheet of glass She saw both their lives flash before her eyes She didn't even have time to cry She was so scared She threw her hands up in the air

Jesus, take the wheel Take it from my hands 'Cause I can't do this on my own I'm letting go So give me one more chance And save me from this road I'm on Jesus, take the wheel

*3rd Person POV*

Everyone was involved in hearing (y/n) sing.  Like her mama before her, the adults all whistled and cheered for the young girl for she truly did sound like her mama whenever she sang, maybe even better than her.  But the one most intrigued by her was the leading frontman of Queen.

“Just who is that talented young lady?” Freddie spoke out as (Y/n) played a small instrumental break in the first chorus.

“That there is (Y/n) (L/n). Her parents were known in this club. Her mama for her singing and her dad, God rest his soul, he was the world champion bull rider. She’s got a gift with that voice of hers.” Jensen said as he cleaned out a mug.

“She does indeed.” Freddie muttered in awe as he continued to watch (Y/n) sing the next part of the song.

There was one point of the song where she held out a note so long, it felt like she was running on endless air.  The crowd all hooted and hollered as she held that note before finishing the song.  Everyone soon cheered as loudly as they could while (Y/n) smiled under the spotlight and stood up from the stool and took a bow.

“Wow she was amazing.” Brian praised.

“I’ll say, she held that note for like 10 beats. Not even I can do that.” Roger said.

“Excuse me, Jensen.” Freddie called out.  Jensen who had just gotten done serving another round of drinks for a bachelor party, came back over and said.

“What’s up?”

“Where can we meet that talented young lady?” he asked him.  The other three band members looked at Freddie confused.

“She’ll be out back. That’s where she usually goes when things get too hectic here.”

“Thank you so much darling.” He dowsed the last of his vodka and stood up and walked out of the club with the other three members behind him.

*My POV*

After the performance I went outside to cool off. I stared up at the starry sky and whispered.

“I wish you could’ve seen it daddy. It seems I really wowed everyone tonight.”

“You did more than just that dear.” I froze and slowly turned around and—pinch me I must be dreaming.  Cause right there in front of me stood my all time favorite rock and roll band Queen.  I closed my eyes and shook my head trying to wake myself up from this dream and found that I wasn’t dreaming.

Freddie Mercury, Brian May, John Deacon and Roger Taylor were really right in front of me.

“You—you’re……”

“Yes darling we know who we are. But what I’m more interested in is who you are. How long have you had that lovely voice for?” Freddie said as he came up to me and actually wrapped an arm around me.

“Well I uhh—for a while I guess.”

“And that was an original song you sang back there?” Brian asked.

“Yeah just…..a little something I came up with. Was it bad?”

“Au contraire darling, it was unlike anything we have ever heard. And that’s saying something.” Freddie said.

“Really?”

“Absolutely. The way you managed to have utter control of your voice as you belted out certain words of the song. Only one other person has been able to do that and that’s me.” Freddie bragged.

“Umm hello what about me?” Roger piped in.

“Oh yes you and your dog whistle range. That takes skill too.” I softly chuckled.  Man this was definitely not how I pictured this night would go (well except in my dreams). “Now then (Y/n). How would you like to be an opening number for our concert?” wait what?

“What?” I asked.

“What?” I heard the other three echo back.

“You’ve got the voice, the talent, you are too good for just singing at the clubs. What better way than to finally dive in and take this opportunity.”

“Uhh Fred can we talk to you for a second?” John soon spoke up.

“Just stay tight for a moment (Y/n) dear.” Freddie said as he bopped my nose before walking back towards his bandmates.  Okay what the hell just happened?

*3rd Person POV*

Freddie and the boys walked a few feet away from (Y/n) so that she couldn’t hear them.

“Fred are you crazy right now?” Roger hissed softly.

“What?”

“We can’t just go picking up random singers off the streets and ask them to open up for us!”

“I agree with Roger. No offense, but I don’t think Reid or even our tour manager Bill will go along with this.” Brian added.

“You don’t believe she’s worth giving a shot too?” Freddie asked.

“No, no it’s not about that. She is talented, beyond talented. We just—can’t do something like this. Picking up a random teenager and ask her to leave everything behind for the rest of our tour.”

“They do have a point Freddie. Plus how do we know she even wants this? I mean maybe she just sings for fun. To be honest I never thought we were that serious till our first album went on the shelf.” Deacy said.

“Okay first off that hurts Deacy dear. How dare you think that. And number 2, I have a feeling she does want it. She may not physically show it but there’s something in her eyes that show that she wants a chance at the real spotlight. And who am I to crush a fellow singer’s dream? Especially one as beautiful and adorable as her, just look at her!” they all turned towards her. “Who knows, maybe we’ll get an additional family member in our rag-tag band.”

“Whoa wait hold on now you’re saying we need another person involved with Queen?” Roger snapped.

“I’m thinking broadly Roger dear. Don’t be so dramatic about it darling. Now then, are you three with me?” Brian, Roger and John looked at each other and Deacy was the first to speak up.

“You’ll never let it go either way. I’ll say yes.” Fred smiled before turning to Brian.

“I mean—” he sighed heavily. “Okay fine, she can come with us. But only if her parents say it’s okay.”

“Well blondie?” Fred questioned as he turned to Roger.  Roger sighed heavily and said.

“I’m already ruled-out even if I say no.” Freddie cheered and hugged his bandmates before heading back over to (Y/n) to discuss his brilliant idea.

*My POV. 1 year later*

If you had told me that on the night I would perform my first original piece live before the people at Cowboys and then told me I would soon be standing before Queen, who not only saw me sing but also offered me the chance to perform alongside them, I would’ve called you crazy and laughed in your face.

But it happened.  With Jensen’s and uncle Bobby’s approval I was able to tour the rest of the North American tour with Queen.  I’ll admit it was frightening to perform in front of my first crowd of over 12,000 people, but once I got on that stage and just sang it felt good.

We had just gotten done doing a concert at the Hammersmith Odeon.  As par-celebration we all headed to a nearby pub the guys had rented out for the night and anyone who was involved with the concert was invited to come.

By 1am everyone was either completely drunk and were passed out on the floor, or they were having sex in the bathrooms. Wanting to perk myself up, I went to the restrooms to splash some cold water on my face but before I could walk around the corner toward the sinks I heard some girls talking.

“I mean don’t get me wrong Roger is amazing especially in the sack but why would he allow someone like her on stage?”

“Yeah all those songs she sings are soooooo boring!” I peeked around to see that the girls who were talking were some of Roger’s groupies.

“Queen is just being dragged by that little bitch who can’t sing for shit.”

“All her songs about Jesus or God or whatever. She doesn’t fit with them. I think they just pitied her so she could go on stage and sing her little country songs.” It was a stab to the heart.

I raced out of the bathroom and tried to contain my tears.  But it only got worse from there.  Walking pass the men’s bathroom were a few of the roadies who were talking about me.

“She brings to band down don’t you think? I mean her songs just aren’t up to par with where Queen is at. In fact I’ve seen sales going down at our concerts because of her.”

“Dorothy should’ve just stayed in Kansas singing for pubs. She’s nowhere near concert stadium material.” At that point a few tears ran down my face.

Was I? Was I really that bad? Did the guys really pity me? Was this all a big joke to them? I ran out the back way and just ran down through the streets of London.  

Not caring where I was going, or where I’d end up. I just figured the father I ran, the farther I would be away from those people and their cruel comments.

The next morning I was at my apartment (technically it was Freddie’s old apartment that he and his ex-girlfriend Mary had) lying on the couch holding the couch pillow close to me.  The things that the groupies and even some of the roadies said last night still rang through my head like a church bell.

Maybe I should give it up. I mean after all like they said, no one really listens to me perform.  So I decided to pack up my stuff and go back to America, back to Oklahoma, maybe try to get a job at Cowboy’s or something.  As I was packing up my last bag, the door suddenly opened and I heard Roger’s voice call out.

“Oi (n/n) you here?” shit why did Freddie have to give out spare copies of the keys?

“(Y/n) you in here?” I then heard Deacy’s voice speak up.  Oh great, not one but two of the Queens are here.

“Is everything okay poppet?” Brian’s voice echoed out. Great could this day get any worse?

“Everything’s fine.” I called out to them.  I quickly came out of my room and shut the door before walking towards the living room. “Hey guys what’s up?”

“Well you disappeared from the party last night darling so we came to see just why that was?” Freddie said.

“You didn’t sneak off with anyone last night did yah?” Roger teased.

“No! I—I felt kinda tired after last night’s concert so I just took a cab home.” I gave them a white lie.

“Why didn’t you tell one of us you were leaving? You know how dangerous the streets can be at night.” Roger said as he plopped himself on the couch.

“I’m not some fragile flower Rog. I can handle myself.”

“I know you can. I just can’t help it sometimes, you’ve become like another sister to me, plus Jensen made me promise to keep an eye on you less he shoot me in the arse.” I rolled my eyes as I chuckled.

“(Y/n) dear~” Freddie sang out as he peeked from the hallway. “If you don’t have anyone here, then why is your door shut?” oh shit.  I quickly turned towards him and he just grinned as he raced towards my room.

“Fred no! Don’t!”

“Oh so there is a handsome beast you’re trying to hide from us!” I ran behind him trying to stop him from getting in my room. “Oh-ho-ho this must be serious then, he not dressed or something?”

“No Freddie there’s no guy now please don’t go in my room!”

“Technically it was my room first so I get first—” he opened the door and that’s when he saw the suitcases.  “What’s all this?”

“I didn’t want you guys to see that.”

“So what were you planning on leaving without saying goodbye!?” By now I’ve seen Fred literally explode on some major temper tantrums but this—this wasn’t anger.  This was disappointment, and when Fred lowers his voice, looks you straight in the eye almost to the point where it’s like his eyes are piercing your soul, that really tears you up.

And you never want to make Freddie Mercury disappointed in you.  Cause let me tell you, it is the worst.

“Fred—”

“No, no, no. Please I would like to know as well.” Roger’s voice soon rung out.  I groaned internally as I turned to see the remaining three band members standing right outside my door.

Roger’s eyes glaring right at me with his arms crossed over his chest.  Brian’s eyes in shock at seeing the suitcases, and Deacy—he looked like he was about to cry.

“Well!” Roger snapped impatiently.

“Hey Rog lay off on her will yah?”

“Brian are you not as upset as we are about this?!” Fred asked.  At this point the three hotheads began screaming at each other.  God this was a nightmare!  I was hoping to just leave without any drama and now I’ve done and caused it!  I held my hands to my ears and shut my eyes trying to drown out their shouting and screaming.

Next thing I know I feel a hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes and there stands Deacy. His eyes soft, not looking at me in anger or disappointment.  He gestured with his head to follow him and the two of us snuck out of my room.

We both sat down on the couch, him sitting close to me as his arm wrapped around me.

“Do you want some tea?” he asked me.  I shook my head no.

“Umm…..I don’t know if I’ve totally ruined this but—could I get a hug?” a soft smile spread across his face and immediately his arms wrapped around me.

“You know you will always get a hug out of me sis.”

Since Deacy and I were the youngest members of the band, we kinda clicked more than the rest.  Guess our shy natures also kinda mixed in together so we kinda had our own special psychic bond with each other.  We always knew what the other was thinking or needed, we would pull the other aside when things got too chaotic (just like now cause I never liked getting or hearing fights).

His fingers stroked through my hair as I adjusted my head so that it rested over his heart.  We sat there in comfortable silence (well besides the still arguing hotheads in my bedroom).

“I’m not good enough for you guys.” I finally confessed.

“What?”

“I—I heard some of Roger’s groupies and even some of your roadies literally talk about how I don’t fit with you guys. That I’m not even that good. Or that you guys just pitied me in order to help me get on stage.”

“I knew those tramps would be trouble.” I heard him mutter.

“But they’re right.”

“No they’re not.”

“Open your eyes Deacy!” I removed myself from his embrace. “My music and Queen’s music they just—don’t mix. I don’t do hard rock songs like you guys do. No rock fans are gonna wanna hear me sing just plain country or folk songs for 20 minutes. They’ll just be going out to get beer or go shag till you guys come up. I’m boring!”

“You’re not boring. Those arseholes are boring. If they can’t withstand a 20minute first act then they shouldn’t even be at one of ours. Because we most certainly perform longer than that.”

“Well you guys give a performance, not just a show. For me; it’s just me and my guitar. I mean yeah there’s people that may like a song or two from mine. Hell you guys allowed me to have a song on A Day at the Races and News of the World. But—in person I’m plain.”

“You’re raw.” I looked up at him confused. “I don’t mean raw in the sense of bad or disgusting. I mean you’re vulnerable. You don’t do the flashy lights, the loud hard rock of drums, or extremely, overbearing, long ass guitar solos.” I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “It’s just you up on that stage. Just you and your guitar.”

“And people should see you as that.” We looked up and finally ceasing their arguments, Freddie, Roger, and Brian now stood there.  Freddie came up behind me, Brian knelt down in front of me, and Roger sat to my right.

“But they don’t.” Freddie began to massage my shoulders.

“Darling when I first heard you sing back in the states, It was like anything I’ve ever heard in a female singer. You have this rawness that can make anything a song. You could write a song about taking the piss and it’d be a hit.” I rolled my eyes.

“More like a flush down the sewers.”

“Oi you need to stop with the negative thinking!” Roger playfully growled as he took my head between his hands and playfully shook it, almost as if he were trying to shake out the negative thoughts out of my head.  I couldn’t help but laugh at his antics as I tried to free myself.

“Cut it our Rog!” I laughed.  He stopped then said as he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Forget about what those rotter’s said. Never, ever doubt your talent. Because you have got something that not even Queen could ever have.”

“And just what is that?” I asked doubtfully.

“Rawness. Like John said, it’s just you up on stage. Most of the rockstars like us come up glammed out to the max, prance about the stage and do the headbanging hits. You—you connect with the audience just as yourself. And if people can’t see that, then they’re fools.”

“So you guys didn’t pity me when you asked me to join you guys?”

“Absolutely not! Whoever says that you just tell me and they’ll be dropped like yesterday’s rotten tomatoes.”

“Thanks you guys. I—I really needed that.”

“Hey, you’re part of this family now. We look out for each other.” Brian said as he gently took my hands in his, his thumbs gently stroking the back of them.

“There’s just one last thing that needs to be taken care of to ensure you’re feeling your normal happy self again.” Freddie said.

Oh no. Please not that!  At this point all four of them had the look of evil on their faces.

“No. Guys don’t you dare!”

“Too late lovie, we gotta make sure you’re back to your full-fledged happy self again. And we’ve got Jensen to thank for sharing with us your deep, dark secret.” I tried to make a run for it but it was too late, Brian trapped me in his long arms and soon I was gang tickled by Queen.

A couple weeks after that, we had just gotten done playing an arena in Houston, Texas.  Wiping the sweat off of my forehead (after not only doing a few of my own songs, but also joining alongside Queen playing guitar or piano) I accidentally bumped into someone.

“Oh sorry I—wasn’t paying attention.”

“That’s quite alright. Say you’re the young woman who just performed alongside Queen correct?” this man had a strong Tennessee accent.  From underneath his cowboy hat I could see sandy blonde hair and he had the most striking blue eyes.  He looked to be about his mid-40’s.

“Yes.” I said wearily.

“Oh sorry I know this must seem a bit creepy, please allow me to introduce myself. Stan Singer.” Wait what? Oh my god!

“Wait, Stan Singer? The Stan Singer, manager of Glen Campbell?”

“The very same, you a fan of his?”

“Yeah. My—my daddy first introduced me to him when I was just 5 years old.”

“Man has good taste.” We both laughed. “How long have you been performing with Queen?”

“A year.”

“A year? Now that I don’t believe.”

“Well truthfully I’ve been performing on stage back home in Oklahoma for a few years at a bar a family friend of mine owns. Cowboy’s.”

“No kidding. I was just there last month.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Quite a shindig that place.”

“Oh yeah, it gets crazy some days. But it’s the best place to go to.”

“Listen (Y/n), While I have enjoyed managing Glen and don’t get me wrong he’s a great guy and a great singer. I’m also looking out to see if there’s a next big thing I could help mold. And seeing you up on stage, you’ve got that special little niche in the realm of country singers. How about joining me for lunch so we can discuss a contract.”

“Me? You—you want to sign me up for a record deal?” I asked ecstatically.

“You’ve got something I’ve never heard from any male artist. Here’s my card, just give me a call whenever you’re ready to talk.” He handed me a business card and said his goodbyes as he tipped his hat at me.

Wow I—I can’t believe it.  I’m actually gonna get a real shot with my own manager.  And Glen Campbell’s manager, nonetheless.  I can’t believe this is actually happening to me.

Wait….what about the guys? What would they say? Would they be mad if I took this deal? Left them when we’ve already grown so close with each other?

During our bus ride to the next city of New Orleans, I was looking at Stan’s card debating whether I should call him or not.

“What’s that?” Roger spoke up.  He soon plopped down beside me with his arm over me. “Ooh a name and phone number! Already got yourself a groupie huh?” he teased as he nudged my shoulder.

“No Roger it’s nothing like that.” I nudged him back.

“Hey did I just hear (Y/n) got someone’s name and phone number?” Deacy soon piped in peeking his head from the curtains of his bunkbed.

“(Y/n) you sly little minx.” Freddie teased.  Oh man was I really not gonna miss this.

“Alright you guys lay off of her will yah. Now just who was it that gave you their phone number (Y/n)? Will there need to be any—talks we need to do with this boy?” Brian said.

“I already told Roger Bri, it’s not like that.”

“Then what is it? I mean normally a guy wouldn’t give you his number unless he wants a date or something else.” Roger spoke. Deacy came up and slapped Roger over the head. “Ow! What was that for?”

“For being an idiot.”

“It’s a business card guys! For Stan Singer. Glen Campbell’s manager.”

“Wait I’ve heard of that guy. Yeah he’s like one of the best country singers out there.” Roger said.

“Yeah. Well Stan actually saw the show tonight and well he—he offered to be my manager. He wants to sign up a contract with me.”

“Oh my god darling yes!” Freddie cheered as he came up and embraced me tightly.

“Congratulations (Y/n).” praised Brian.

“But—” I started off.  Fred separated from me and he said.

“But what dear? You’re finally on your way! This should be a celebration!”

“But what about us? You guys? What if—what if this is the last time we’ll ever see each other?” at that point the guys grew quiet. They looked at each other and that’s when Deacy spoke up.

“The future is uncertain. Maybe someday we will meet again. But (Y/n), if you don’t take this shot now you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

“It’s like Deacy’s song says. Time to spread your wings and fly away.” Brian said as he placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. I looked between the four of them and they all had the same look.

Acceptance and love.

I felt my eyes watering up and I choked out.

“I’ll miss you guys.” They immediately hugged me and told me they would miss me too.  We remained in that group hug for the rest of the night till we arrived in New Orleans later the next day.

As soon as we got to the hotel, the guys sat with me as I called Stan up and told him that I would like to have lunch with him to discuss the contract.  Stan agreed to fly down to New Orleans and once that date was made, the guys brought me in one last final group hug telling me how proud they were of me, that they loved me and knew that I would become big in my own way.

On June 27th, 1977 I preformed my last concert with Queen as their opening act and the following day, I met with my new manager Stan Singer and together we went over the rules of my contract.

By the end of the 1970’s into the 1980’s my name had flown to the top of the charts in country artists.  So far in the 3 years of my growing career I had toured America twice for my 2 albums I had released under Sony records.

As I expected I was mostly popular in the southern states where country music reigned supreme on the radio.  But I did have some fans in the northern, Mid-west and western countries but I mostly toured around the South.

I was now performing back in my home state of Oklahoma to an arena of 20,000 people.  I had just gotten done preforming my biggest hit “Jesus take the wheel” and everyone went crazy for it.

“Thank you!” I turned and saw one of my roadies hand me a stool and I thanked him before setting it down right at the edge of the stage.  I adjusted the mic stand as I sat down. “This is a new song that I wanted to do especially for you my home sweet home. So you guys will be the first to hear this song coming up on my next album.” The crowd cheered. “But this song is also dedicated to four special men in my life. Without them—I wouldn’t even be up on this stage before all of you. It’s called Ready now.”

Then with just me on the guitar I began to sing my newly finished song “Ready now”.  As I sang the song, during the long instrumental breaks, I thought back to the guys.

All the fun memories I had with them while on the road with them.  Being there with them during their recordings, getting to do a song on their albums, or hanging out at the bars together after the shows.

Play video

You saw through me All this time I'd forgotten People are kind

I was hurting And you knew So you showed me What to do

You said, "I will listen Tell it all When you're finished We'll talk more"

But I didn't know how So we took it in turns And to my surprise We found my words

Feet firm on the ground We stood hand in hand The world seemed to tell me That I have a plan

Together we sang I'm ready now

Something new Something strange Ten feet taller I had changed

I believe you I'm not wrong Oh it suits me To feel strong

You said, "I will listen Tell me it all You don't like the ending Then we'll find on that's yours"

Oh, how did you know That's all we need A promise of hope Is enough to feel free

Feet firm on the ground We stood hand in hand And I told the world That I have a plan

Together we sang I'm ready now

By the end of the song, I heard the crowd cheer and as I looked up at the ceiling I did a silent thank you to the boys.  Even though we would never see each other in our career’s again, I would always keep their memories alive in my heart and mind.

Without them, I would never have been ready to even get to this point.  And I will always be grateful to Queen.

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 80

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​

Her body is comforting; the warmth and the familiar weight of it laying atop his own.  The feel of her skin pressed against his and the light, yet always alluring scent that lingers in her hair. His fingers more through it now. Slowly and gently combing through the silky, dark tresses; still damp with sweat following an intense and attentive session of love making. It had been so easy to lose himself in the moment. The escape. The sensation of hands and mouths moving over each other’s bodies as they took turns both worshipping and devouring one another. The way her touch alternated between gentle and greedy as her fingers and palms explored every inch of his shoulders, chest, and arms; legs securely wrapped around his waist and her heels pressing into the small of his back. It had been slow and tender at moments; long, soft kisses that saw closed mouth moving upon closed mouth,  accompanied by whispers of love and praise. Other times it had been more frantic; a desperation behind aggressive, grabbing hands and tongues battling for dominance and much rougher, dirtier talk. Each minute...each SECOND...had been nothing short of perfection. The taste of her kiss and the digging and scraping of her nails against his skin. The noises that escaped from her mouth; the sound of his name,  both soft sighs and whimpers,  much louder begging and pleading and then her eventual release. His own had been powerful.  His entire body locking up and then shuddering; eyes closed and his forehead pressed against hers as her heels dug into his ass as he emptied himself inside of her. She’d clung to him afterwards; arms tightly wound around his neck while he buried his face in the side of hers.  And when he’d pulled back to look at her, there’d been tears in her eyes. There was no way to dismiss what he saw there; the fear and the worry and the anxiety. The realization that -whether it be through his demise or her own- it may very well be the last time they experience that kind of moment together.  He’d done what he could to squash those thoughts; softly kissing her and quietly professing his love and adoration; fingertips moving over every inch of her face as if committing it to memory.  

Now he lays on his back with her tightly pressed against him. That warm, supple body spread along his; breasts flattened against his chest, her eyes closed and her lips and the tip of her nose against one side of his jaw as her knuckles repeatedly grazed along the other.  The pain hasn’t subsided, but for the time being it isn’t as intense; the three glasses of whisky he’d ended up consuming, the intense orgasm,  and the heat radiating from her body  all working together to successfully take the edge off his suffering.  And he knows he should move; climb out of bed and get dressed and back to business. Despite Rata and Koen being there and heavily armed guards on high alert, she’s still his responsibility; promising nearly seven years ago to always protect her no matter how high the stakes or how extreme the costs. She and the baby growing inside of her are his sole priorities, and he has to keep them safe and get them through the next few days and then back home safe and sound. Even if it means sacrificing himself. Whether physically OR mentally.

“Boy or girl?”

Tyler’s eyes flicker open at the sound of her voice, finding her gazing up at him with her chin resting on his chest. “What?”

Her knuckles continue to  brush against his jaw. “Boy or girl? What do you want?”

“I want a healthy baby. And a healthy momma.”

“You say that every time.”

“It’s all that matters to me; that you and the baby are okay.”

“Humour me,” she says, and drags the nail of her index finger down his chin. “Boy or girl?”

“Boy.”

“You would do that to me. Stack the house with testosterone. Isn’t it sufficient that  you have enough testosterone for the entire male population of New South Wales? Do you really have to add more?”

“You’re going to say a  girl, aren’t you. So what? Stack the house with estrogen? Thanks.”

“Better than testosterone.”

“I don’t think so. And why would you do that to ME? Another girl?”

“Look buddy, it’s your sperm that decides this. So you really only have yourself to blame. Besides, would another little girl really be that painful? You’re an amazing girl dad; a total study in contradiction.   You’re big and strong and you have all those scars and tattoos and you’re so bad ass. Yet there you are, braiding hair and playing Barbies and attending tea parties and glitter stuck in your beard. And you never complain about any of it.”

“Why would I complain? She’s my little girl. Nothing I won’t do for her. Except wear the tiara.”

“She’ll break you yet. Or Addie will, when she’s old enough. Something tells me your little peanut will be able to convince you to do ANYTHING.”

“Well she is just like her mother and you’ve had me wrapped around your baby fingers since day one, so…”

“Do you remember when we found out that Millie was in fact going to be a girl? I thought you were going to have a coronary. You looked so scared.”

“I was scared. Me? Having a girl?”

“What? Did the sins of past transgressions with women come back to haunt you? Make you realize that there’d be guys like you  after your daughter when she’s older?”

“That was part of it. It just scared me. The thought of having a girl. I didn’t know anything about raising a girl.”

“You have asked the ultrasound tech three times if she was sure. You were so spooked. But  you got over it quick. The second she made her entrance into the world. The way you held her and she looked at you with those big blue eyes. You were a goner. You had your miracle baby.”

“Yeah,” he smiles, and pushes his hands through her hair, moving it off her shoulders. “She IS  a miracle. In a lot of ways. I never thought I’d get that chance again; didn’t think I was worthy of being a dad again. And when you think about how she was made and where? During all that fucking craziness? The fact that something could have happened to you and we never would have known we were having her? She’s definitely a miracle.”

“I remember how cute you were while I was pregnant,” Esme muses. “I mean, you’ve been cute and gentle and so sweet with all of them. But with Millie, you were extra...well, you were EXTRA.”

“I was a total newbie. I didn’t get to experience all of that with Austin. I was pretty much gone the entire time she was pregnant with him. And I was in Kuwait when he was born, so I didn’t even get to see that.”

“You were just so adorable. You were always touching my tummy and you’d always talk to her or read to her. And she’d always kick or squirm when she heard your voice. Not that I blame her; it’s a very nice voice.”

Grinning, he tucks her hair behind her ears and then cradles her face in his hands, kissing her softly.

“And you always had the goofiest grin on your face when people would ask about her.  That ‘hey, look what I did’ grin. You were so pleased with yourself. Like it was some great achievement; putting a baby in me.”

“At that time it was. Now all five of them are. Well, six. If we count little bean.”

“And you always made sure they gave us pictures at the ultrasound; you’d put every one of them on the fridge. I don’t think I’ve seen a prouder daddy-to-be. And you’ve been like that with every single one.”

“I am proud. I finally did something worthwhile with my life.  I finally have things I can brag about. Didn’t have anything to be proud of until Millie came along.”

“I don’t know about THAT. Surviving half a dozen tours in the Middle East is pretty impressive.”

“It was my job. I did what I was told to do. Or what I had to do to survive. Let’s not romanticize it.”

“You’re too hard on yourself,” she complains.  “You know how you always wish I could look at myself the way you do? Well I wish that you could see yourself the way I see you.  The way your kids see you. Because we think you’re pretty amazing and we love you. More than you could possibly know. Life would be miserable without you.”

“Well hopefully you guys won’t have to find out just HOW miserable.”

She frowns. “You said we wouldn’t talk about that. That we wouldn’t talk fatalistically. You promised me that. For one night.”

“You’re right. I did promise that. I’m sorry.”

She presses a kiss to his lips. “You’re forgiven. This is some serious deja vu, huh?”

“What is?”

“This. Us in bed like this. When you’re supposed to be working.”

“Well if it wasn’t for you and your uncanny ability at distracting me while I’m working…”

“I will not be blamed for your hormones. It’s not my fault you’re incessantly horny and insatiable.”

“It’s your fault for lying in bed with your pants half down,” he argues.

“You’re so unprofessional, Tyler,” she teases. “You should really be written up. You should not be getting your rocks off on company time.”

“Technically, it’s our company so we can do whatever the fuck we want.”

“That is a very good point. I think I’m going to love being in charge. Does that I mean I get to boss you around sometimes?”

“Like you don’t already?”

“I do not boss you around!” Esme objects. “You wouldn’t let me do that. Boss you around.”

“I think you’re underestimating the power you have. You’ve been bossing me around for about seven years now.”

“Well you must enjoy it. I notice you stick around.”

“It’s not that I enjoy it, it’s that I really enjoy other things so I tolerate the bossiness.”

“When have I bossed you around? Name a time.”

“Four months ago when you made me paint our bathroom purple.”

“I couldn’t do it myself! I was pregnant. And for the record, it’s not purple. It’s mauve.”

“Mauve is a shade of purple.”

“It’s not purple like Barney the Dinosaur or like an eggplant. It’s a very subdued shade.”

“Yeah, a shade of purple.”

“Okay, so that’s ONE time! One time I’ve bossed you around.”

“Are you kidding me?” Tyler chuckles. “It’s been more than one time. Way more than I like to admit, actually.”

“So the big, bad mercenary is whipped. Your secret is safe with me. You can’t be a hard ass all the time, right? You might as well come home and be my bitch.”

“Excuse you? Your bitch?”

“Listen, if I have to be a snack and meal bitch for five kids, you can suck it up and be my bitch once in a while. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“The things I won’t do for you.”

“You do a lot for me,” she smiles, and pecks his lips. “You always have. You always step up and take care of me; no matter how bad you’re feeling or how much pain you’re in or shitty circumstances are. You ALWAYS step up. For me, for the kids. You’re just always there when you need you, without even having to be asked. I appreciate it. And you.”

Laying a hand on the back of her head, he pulls her into him and presses his lips to her brow. “Thank you.”

“You’re a good man,” she says, as she once more places her head upon his chest. “And I’m very lucky. That  I even found you.”

“I don’t know; I think I’m the lucky one. If you hadn’t have taken the job with Nik, if you hadn’t been on the bridge that day…”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“I wouldn’t have what I have now. I’d be dead. I wouldn’t have gotten a second chance or the opportunity to fix my shit. And I wouldn’t have this life; you, my kids. And when I think about them or you not existing…”

“But we do. Exist.”

“Yeah, because you took the job. You could have taken one look at me and saw what a mess I was and said ‘fuck it’ and turned it down. But you didn’t. And now look. Look where we are.”

She scowls. “Yeah, back in Dhaka.”

“That’s NOT what I meant.  I meant look where we are as in us. As a couple. We’ve come a hell of a long way since the first time we were here.”

“And since that little apartment in Sydney,” she muses.

“Seems like so long ago. Longer than seven years, that’s for sure.”

“We’ve been through a lot since then,” she reasons. “But I like where we’ve ended up.”

“Yeah,” he runs a hand over her hair and down her back, settling it at her tailbone. “So do I.”

Tyler  relaxes once more as she settles against him; his knuckles repeatedly skimming up and down her spine, the fingers of his hand softly tracing random patterns on her shoulder and down her arm. It feels so good; being with her, The way her hair tickles his face and chest and how her warm, soft breath wafts against his skin. It’s the quiet, unassuming moments of intimacy that he sometimes enjoys the most. When they connect through something other than sex. There’s a bond between him that he can’t even begin  to explain. Something so powerful and seemingly unbreakable that began on that bridge seven years ago.

“What do you think you would have been?” Esme asks, once more breaking the silence.  “If you had never one into the military?”

“I don’t know,” he admits.

“What did you want to be when you were  a kid?”

“Away from my father.”

“You must have had a dream. Something you wanted to do.”

“Well the unrealistic side of me wanted to be a professional surfer or football player. The realistic side of me always went back and forth between  a cop and a firefighter.”

“I could see you being either of those.  I mean, you’re big and strong. Athletic. And you have no damn fear.”

“Believe me, I have a lot of those. I just don’t tell you about them.”

“You would have made a really good policeman. In that uniform? All intimidating with your eyes and your take no shit attitude. You could have told me to assume the position and I would have obliged right away.”

He chuckles at that.

“A cop or fireman are both very fitting for you,” Esme concludes. “They’ve both got  that edge; high intensity at times. That danger. Definitely good jobs for you. Or a construction worker. I could see you in construction. In a pair of well worn jeans and no shirt and all sweaty and tanned.”  She sighs dreamily.

“Is that your fantasy?”

“Baby, you ARE my fantasy. I don’t need to imagine anything other than what I already have.”

“You’re really good for my self esteem, you know that?”

“How a man that looks like you has self esteem issues, I will never know. But you’re perfect the way you are. At least to me.”

“Even with all the scars?”

“They’re part of who you are. Where you’ve been, what you’ve gone through, what you’ve survived. I don’t like the stories behind most of them, but I love YOU. And they’re part of you, so…”

Smiling, he drops a kiss on the top of her head. “What about you? What would you have done? If you’d stayed in college?”

“I would have probably changed my major. Maybe went into English Lit or something like that.”

“I was NOT expecting that.”

“You thought for sure I was going to say teacher or nurse, didn’t you.”

“Well you did mention teacher once. And you did a damn good job of nursing me back to health seven years ago. And your sponge baths are second to none.”

She giggles.  “You only think that because you got special treatment during your sponge baths.”

“You were very good to me. And so were your hands. Sometimes even your mouth.”

“You’re such a pig,” she laughs. “I hope you know that if I had been a nurse, I would NOT have given that kind of treatment to all my patients.”

“Just tall Australian guys with muscles and blue eyes?”

“They would have to have an amazing ass and the stamina of a God, too.”

“And you say I put YOU on a pedestal.”

“You’re worthy of your pedestal. But yeah; I would have gone into English Lit. Or maybe psychology. But I did have one long standing dream when I was young. Sometimes I even still think about it.”

“Yeah? What’s the dream?”

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

“Why would I laugh?”

“You might think it’s funny.”

“Try me.”

“I’ve always wanted to own a bookstore.”

Tyler glances down at her.

“Weird, right?”

“No, it’s not weird. I’m just surprised. It’s the first I’ve heard about it in seven years.”

“I’ve never had a reason to talk about it. It was just a silly dream. Or at least it was until we got back to Australia and I got a look at all the little shops in town. They’re quaint and they’re cute and it’s such a nice, picturesque area.  It makes me think of my little bookstore whenever we’re there.”

“Really?”

“Really. I know; it’s silly. Tell me it’s silly.”

“I don’t think it’s silly at all. I think it’s a nice idea.”

“And not just any bookstore, either. Not one of those stuffy, uptight kinds. But where people can come in and relax; cozy chairs and tables to sit at and a place where they can buy baked goods and other treats and get something to drink. With a fireplace and an awesome kids section; bean bag chairs and aquariums with fish and turtles. And a sensory area for kids with special needs. It would be bright and cheerful; lots of windows and natural light. And a little garden out back where people sit and get fresh air if they want.”

“Wow…” he grins. “...you’ve really thought about it.”

“Just a dream. I had it all figured out when I was ten. I mean, I’ve added ideas through the years. I even made a floor plan when I was fourteen.”

“What did you call it?”

“It’s never had a name.  I could never come up with one.”

“How come you never did it?”

“A lot of things went to shit after my dad died and my mom got even MORE toxic. Life went in a different direction. And then I met Mark and…” she shrugs. “...well we know how THAT turned out. I brought it up once to him; he thought it was stupid.”

“HE was stupid.”

“Among other things. You don’t think it’s stupid?”

“No. I think it’s pretty cool, actually. And if you wanted to do it, we could make it happen.”

“It was just a dream.”

“Doesn’t HAVE to be just a dream. If it’s something you want to do…”

“Don’t enable me, Tyler. You’re supposed to be the one talking me out of these things.”

“No, I’m supposed to be the one encouraging you to do things.”

“Have you been listening to Barack Obama’s podcast again? Was he giving one of his talks about treating Michelle like the queen she is?”

“I don’t need him to encourage me to treat my wife like a queen. And if something you want to do...the bookstore…”

“I’m too busy raising five little kids right now;  in five or six months, there’s going to be a new baby in the house. And we already have a business, remember?”

“You could still have one of your own and help with the other one.”

“Baby, I love you so much for wanting this for me, but we both know now is not a good time. We’re having another baby; that’ll be six kids under seven. I won’t have time to do anything extra. And I’m happy the way things are right now. Maybe when they’re all in school and you’re gone a lot. It would give me something to do and I won’t be so lonely.”

“So ask you again in another few years,” he concludes.

“You’ll forget in a few years.”

“Esme,  I don’t forget anything when it comes to you. I still remember what you were wearing when you showed up at the shack, and that was almost seven years ago. I remember it like it was yesterday. And I remember every bit of every conversation we had during those five days.”

Her lower lip and chin begin to wobble. “Don’t make me cry, Tyler James. I’ve cried enough today.”

“I remember how I promised I’d never make you cry. I fucked that up pretty good, didn’t I.”

“For what it’s worth, you’ve made me smile and laugh more than you’ve made me cry.”

Smiling, he tangles his fingers in her hair and pulls her into a kiss; long and deep, her body sliding along his she reaches up to curl her arms around his neck. “I should get dressed,” he says, and rubs the tip of his nose against hers.

“No. You shouldn’t. In fact, it should be illegal for you to ever wear clothes.”

“Man, your hormones ARE going crazy.”

“I can’t help it. I can’t help that I find my husband amazingly sexy. That I can’t get enough of him. Maybe you should have been uglier if you didn’t want me objectifying you so much.”

“You wouldn’t have bothered with me if I was uglier.”

“That’s a fair point.”

“I really should get dressed.”

She pouts dramatically.

“I’m sorry. But I am working.”

“We’re in the same room. What is going to happen to me when you’re THIS close by?”

“I should at least have pants on if the shit hits the fan.”

“If you leave them off,  you’d defeat them with sheer humiliation. Or maybe seeing you naked would turn them on and they’d be so uncomfortable with it, they’d just leave.”

Smoothing her hair away from her face, he keeps it clasped in his hands and presses a kiss to her lips. “You’re weird.”

“Maybe. But you secretly enjoy my weirdness. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have hung in for seven years. You either like it, or you’re a glutton for punishment.”

“Maybe it’s a bit of both,” he teases.

“You definitely enjoy it. That’s why we have five ids. And one on the way. You enjoy it a little too much.”

“There’s no such thing as too much. And as much as I want to stay here like this all night…” he pecks her lips and runs his palms along her arms. “...you need to get off me.”

“Fine.”  She gives another pout and then rolls off him and onto her side; elbow on the mattress and the side of her head in her palm. Watching him with a mix of admiration, appreciation, and lust as he slides out of bed and begins gathering up long discarded clothing.  “Baby, you are so sexy.”

Tyler grins. “And you call me biased?”

“It’s the truth,” she declares, then laughs when the shirt he tosses her way lands on top of her head. “Walking sex. That’s what you are. Which is another reason we have so many kids. That and you have very determined swimmers. Not even  birth control or a vasectomy could stop those suckers! And don’t you dare say it…” she slips the tee over her head. “...or I WILL throat punch you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“I could take you. And you know it.”

“Mmm…hmmm…”  He clips the holster and gun to his hip, then stands at the side of the bed, hands gentle as they rest on the side of her face; tilting it up towards him. “I love you.”

“I know.” She presses her lips to his heavily calloused palm. “I’ve never once doubted it. And I love you, too. So much.”

He kisses her. So soft and so tender it brings tears to her eyes.

****

The text comes at ten in the morning as they lounge on the couch in the living room; half eaten plates of breakfast resting in their laps. It’s nothing more than numbers on the screen,  a simple yet effective message that opens the gateway to the path that leads home. And she hurriedly sets her plate on the coffee table and scrambles to gather a notebook and pen; uncapping the latter with her teeth as she clicks dials the number provided and then places the phone on her thigh and the call on speaker.

“You don’t know how to mind your own business,” a male voice scolds in way of greeting.

“And you don’t know how to play fair,” Esme retorts. “Taking the wife and kid of a man who died seven years ago? Threatening another woman and her children? That’s pretty low; even for bottom dwellers like you.”

“Mouthy. Typical western woman. Nothing that a good backhand wouldn’t fix. Perhaps we should teach your husband a thing or two; about how to control his woman and teach her how to respect men.”

“You can kick a dog to make it stay, but it stays out of fear, not respect. And I’m not speaking to a man right now; I’m speaking to a boy. A cowardly little boy. Because no man would  sink to what you have. A man...a  REAL man...wouldn’t idolize trash like Amir Asif.”

“You keep that name out of your mouth,” he growls. “You keep it out of your whore mouth.”

“You know what, fuck you buddy,” Tyler snaps. “Don’t fucking talk to her like that. You may talk to your girl like that, but don’t EVER talk to mine like that.”

The man on the other end of the line chuckles. “I should have known you’d be listening. Always the protector. How have you been enjoying the games? We made them up. Just for you.”

“How about you meet me in person and I show you a whole new game,” Tyler suggests. “That kind that ends with me putting you in the fucking ground.”

Esme reaches out and lays a comforting hand on the back of his neck, repeatedly squeezing.

“You object? To our games? You object to her being called a whore? Isn’t that what she was? When  you first met? Your whore?”

“I will fucking kill you. I will find you and rip you apart with my bare fucking hands. You hear me? I’ll…”

“Enough with the games,” Esme orders into the phone. “They’re not clever, they’re not cute.  They’re ridiculous and they’re boring and they scream of desperation. We don’t intimidate easily. If at all. So how about you knock this shit off and we get down to business. The people we’re working for are willing to meet your demands; twenty five million dollars for the woman and the boy. You can keep the mercenary; we don’t want him. He’s damaged goods now. And you can tell him I said that.”

“You don’t want your own man? Your own employee? That’s cold.”

“We know he’s in on it. We know he’s working for Mahajan. That you’re using him as bait. You really don’t think we’re stupid, do you? You’re not dealing with street thugs; we’ve been in this business for a long time. We’ve seen and heard it all. From bigger and better. We were able to get Ovi Mahajan out. And we killed Amir Asif in the end. So your threats and your games mean nothing. They’re not scary. They’re laughable.”

“You won’t be finding it very funny if we get to your children, will you. That won’t be so laughable, will it.”

“I will fucking kill you  and everyone you love,” Tyler fumes. “I will hunt every last one of your relatives down and make you watch while I put a bullet in each of their brains. And then I’ll fucking drown you in their blood. And that’s a promise.”

Another chuckle. “You act and talk so tough. But it only took one of us to bring you down last time. And you should have done everyone a favour and died on that bridge. In the end, you needed a woman to come to your rescue. To fight your battles. Now THAT’S pathetic.”

“Do you want the money or not?” Esme inquires. “Twenty five million. For the woman and the kid.”

“You know what we really want. WHO we want.”

“And I made it very clear that that is non negotiable. You won’t get that. You won’t get HIM.  That offer got left on the table and died there. Twenty five million dollars. Take it or leave it.”

“And if we agree to take it?”

“I want proof of life, and I want it today. Within the next few hours. And it has to be current; today’s date and time stamp.  You try and fuck me on this, and I will send a whole army to take you and your friends down. Because I have that power. I have the power and the money and the resources to do it. Do you really want to test me?”

“You’re not able to do that,” the man scoffs. “Bring us down.”

“Oh, I DO have that power. I can get it all done with one phone call. You really didn’t think we’d be in this alone, did you? That it would just be the two of us?  You have no idea the amount of people I have at my disposal. Or the weapons or the tech. I’m in charge here, not you. How do you know I haven’t traced this call and already have snipers with you  in their crosshairs? You have no idea what I can do. So fuck you and your games. You want the money or not?”

A heavy sigh. “Thirty.”

“No,” she refuses. “Twenty five. That was your original demand and that’s all you’re getting. Not a single goddamn cent more. I don’t take orders from you. I don’t take orders from ANYONE. And I especially don't take them from gutter rats. Twenty five. Take it or fuck off.”

“You want proof of life?”

“The deal won’t happen if I don’t get it. You’ll get nothing but a death sentence. I want a video. A live one.”

“You want to see them with your own two eyes?”

“That’s EXACTLY what I want.”

“You can have that. Under one condition..”

She snorts. “You don’t give me conditions, kiddo. That’s not how this works.”

“Do you want your friends alive or dead? It’s up to you. Do you want their blood on your hands?”

Tyler leans into her, lips pressed to her ear. “Ask what they want.”

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll play. Just this once. What’s your condition? Humour me.”

“You can have proof of life, but only in person.”

“Fuck no,” Tyler whispers harshly. “Tell him to go fuck himself. You’re not doing that.”

“Fine,” she ignores him, and her husband  glares at her and sighs in exasperation, then  springs up from the couch and rakes both hands through his hair before pacing the floor. “Tell me where to go. Give me the address.”

“Do you think WE’RE stupid? That we’d just give you the address and then you’d send your people there? You come here, to where we are, and we take you there. Blindfolded. So you can’t see where we are talking.”

“Tell them no,” Tyler orders. “Tell them no and to shove it up their ass.”

“You know I can’t do that,” she addresses the man on the phone. “That’s a setup. You want me there so you can grab me and hold me hostage because that will bait my husband. You really do underestimate me, don’t you.  I don’t go anywhere alone. If I agree, someone goes with me.”

“You bring him. Your husband.”

“Nope. It won’t be him. So you can grab BOTH of us? Or kill him on sight? I won’t play these games. I’ll come, but I’m not bringing him. Someone else, but NOT him.”

“Then he keeps his distance. If any of my people see him even remotely close by, we kill you. No hesitation. Understand?”

“Where do you want me to meet you?”

“Amir Asif’s house. You come here, we take you to see your friends.  Simple as that. I give you my word that no harm will come to you.”

“Your word means shit,” Tyler speaks up. “Tell us where they are. Or I will grab all of you one by one and find ways to make you talk. I’ve got all the time and the rage in the world, believe me.”

“We haven’t hurt her or your children yet, have we? But we COULD. I think we’ve shown that; no? With the baby? She really is the cutest little thing. Such an adorable smile. And your other daughter? So pretty. Blond hair and blue eyes. We could keep her for a few years; she’d make a good child bride.”

“You fucking asshole!” Tyler storms across the room and snatches the phone from Esme’s thigh; hands trembling as he takes the cell off speaker and presses it to his ear. “ I will fucking hunt you down...every last one of you...I will fucking torture you in ways you can’t even begin to imagine. Then I’ll beat you within an inch of your life, stop, and then torture you all over again.  And maybe I’ll put a bullet between your eyes. If you’re lucky.”

“She has six hours; to make up her mind.   She hasn’t decided by then, we will kill all three of them. And then we’ll kill your children. One by one.”

“You fucking prick. How about you man up and you meet ME face to face. Or are you that much of a coward?”

“Six hours,” the other man insists, then disconnects the call.

“Motherfucker!” Tyler roars, and tosses the phone onto the couch; slamming into the cushions with enough force that the cell bounces violently and hits the floor.  The rage is intense; his entire body drawn tight and trembling, fists tightly clenched and jaw painfully set. And he can hear the rush of blood in his head; feels the throbbing of the surgically repaired vein in his neck.

“Okay...Tyler…” Esme’s on her feet, rushing to him and laying her hands on his chest; palms moving slowly and soothingly over the expanse of hard muscle and the fabric of his shirt. “...you need to calm down...you need to breathe...just breathe…”

“You heard what he said?”

“I heard. I heard every word.”

“That’s my daughter.”

“She’s my daughter too. I heard what he said. And it’s vile and it’s evil and it’s disturbing.  But he said it to get to you; to fuck with you. Break your brain, then break your body, right? Don’t let them do it. Don’t let them win.”

“That’s my little girl…” he speaks through ragged gulps of air, tears of both rage and fear streaming down his face. “..if they get to her….”

“It’s just words. That’s all it is. They won’t touch her. In the same way they didn’t touch Addie. They’re doing this to break you. And you can’t let them, okay? You can’t. I need you to calm down. Just to try to breathe, okay?”

“I can’t...I can’t breathe...I can’t…”

“You’re really close to having a panic attack and I won’t be able to get you out of it. Can you at least sit down, please?”

He nods, and she grabs a hold of the front of his shirt and yanks him towards the couch. Waiting until he drops down onto it to lay a hand on the back of his head; encouraging him to place it between his knees. “You need to breathe, Tyler. Just breathe.”

She leaves him momentarily, rushing for the box of meds in the kitchen; hastily dumping them onto the counter before selecting the bottle she wants. Then returns to the living room with several small, white pills cradled in her palm.

“Take them,” she gently orders, then places her hand over his lips. Forcing the pills into his mouth and then grabbing a now lukewarm mug of coffee from the table and using it as a chaser. “It’ll pass,” she confidently assures him. “Just try and relax.”

His eyes are closed  as he rests his forehead against her, and she drops a kiss on the top of his head; gently stroking his hair and his ears and the back of his neck. Feeling the way his body slowly begins to relax as the meds act quickly; a strong force combined with the comfort -and security- she effectively provides him with. And when the tension and the rage finally release, he begins to sob.  His entire body shaking, arms wrapped tightly around her slender waist.

“It will be over soon,” Esme promises, her voice quivering with emotion. “It’ll all be over soon.”

[donteattheappleshook]

Of Cars and Bars Chapter 10/14

As always, thank you Krystal @kmomof4​ for all of your amazing beta work and for just being a lovely person. Twice now you’ve talked me out of giving up on this one! This story exists because of and is dedicated to you!

Please enjoy and extra long, extra smutty chapter during your quarantine.

Summary:

Rated E

When Emma Swan is offered the chance to go on tour as an opener for one of the most popular up and coming bands of the decade, the last thing she expects is to find that the lead guitarist is the stranger she had a one night stand with five years ago.

This started out as a smutty two shot about Emma Ruby and Mary Margaret going on a road trip and has evolved into a slow-burn mutual pining angst-fest.

Read it from the beginning on Ao3 and Ffn because tumblr eats all my italics.

Chapter 10 - Circles

It's been years / Since we whispered soft / With the torch light on / And the big light off / We were tired boys / With the soap on our skin / And we'd fall asleep to the wind

     "It's so nice to have girls around," Belle sighed as she picked at the last piece of French toast on her plate. Emma, Ruby, and Mary Margaret laughed and she turned bright red. “I mean -”

“We get it,” Ruby assured her. “The guys are great but sometimes you just need to get away from the testosterone and enjoy being around other women.” 

“Exactly,” Belle agreed. Emma smiled. Belle had grown up surrounded by boys and continued to spend most of her time with them. She could only imagine how nice it must be to finally have some long-term female company. 

“Should we get another round of mimosa’s,” Mary Margaret suggested. 

“You shouldn’t,” Emma laughed. “It’s eleven in the morning. You’ll be out cold by noon if you have another.” 

They were enjoying another one of those lovely, rare days off - their first since Austin nearly two weeks ago. They’d had a show last night and Emma had come so close to playing her new songs - yes, it was songs now. After that day with Killian, after the silly game that had reminded her of how fun and easy and cathartic it was to write music, she hadn’t been able to stop. It was like the floodgates had been opened and she had finally, finally found her way back to music. 

She could do it on her own now. She’d written one or two songs sitting quietly in the back of the bus while the others slept or played cards or browsed the internet on their phones. But she still wrote with Killian when she could - not because she needed his help or support, but because she enjoyed it. Writing with him was fun, it was easy, and it was quickly becoming one of her favorite things to do. 

Who was she kidding? Spending time doing anything with Killian was becoming one of her favorite things to do. She tried to convince herself that it was just the fact that they were so productive - she’d have a whole album soon at this rate - and the fact that the celebratory sex afterwards was just mindblowing. But honestly… she didn’t know. She just liked spending time with him. She liked listening to his stories and discovering new little quirks about him, things that were the inevitable result of being around each other so much. 

She just… she liked him. Fuck. She liked him. She tried to calm her breathing whenever that little thought made itself known. It’s okay to like your friends, she would remind herself. You like Ruby and Mary Margaret and Belle. You can like your friends. It was just a lot more complicated when that friend set her skin on fire and made her also want to jump his bones whenever he smiled at her. That was where it got blurry. 

“Excuse me,” a small, nervous voice said and Emma looked up to see three young, teenage girls standing next to their table. They were clutching their phones to their chests and practically bouncing on their toes. “Are you Emma Swan?” 

She looked at them a little skeptically. “Yes?” 

Smiles lit up their whole faces. “We’re huge fans! We were at the show last night and oh my god, you were just so amazing! We love your songs! Can we take a picture with you?” 

Their words came out in a frenzied jumble and it took Emma a moment to catch up to what exactly was going on. Then it hit her. Holy shit. These were fans. She had fans. She’d been recognized, in a public place, by people who liked her music. She felt starstruck. She realized the irony of that. 

“Of course you can,” Ruby answered for her when Emma sat there dumbly with her mouth hanging open. The girls squealed and rushed up beside her and she did her best to smile and not look like a terrified idiot as they continued to tell her how much they loved her and took dozens of pictures. 

“Can we take one with all of you?” one of them asked. “You’re her band right?” Mary Margaret and Ruby stood with much more tact than she had and let Belle take a photo of the six of them, smiling and making faces. 

“Thank you so much!” the second said as she looked through the pictures on her phone. 

The third one piped up then. “Can I ask you, what’s it like playing with Abandon Ship!? I mean, how do you even function? They’re all so hot and so talented, you must just love it.” Emma fumbled for something to say, trying not to laugh as her friends did as well. 

“Liam is just so hot,” the first one spoke again. “Is he single?” she whispered, hoping Emma would let her in on some secret. Emma bit her lip to hide her smile, she didn’t want to smile while she crushed this poor girl. 

“Actually,” she said, nodding to Belle. “This is his wife.” 

The girl looked like she’d been completely deflated. “Oh.” 

“What about Killian?” the third girl asked. She was about fourteen. 

Emma hesitated. She hated that she hesitated. She didn’t have any claim on him. They had an understanding. And this was a teenage girl, not someone Killian would even be interested in. But still, the words got stuck in her throat before she let them out. They felt wrong coming out of her mouth. She didn’t like that either.

“As far as I know, Killian’s single.” 

The girls squealed and thanked them and headed off. Ruby was looking at her. Emma tried to avoid her gaze but then finally met her eyes and glared a little bit. “What?” she demanded. Ruby just gave her a pointed look and a shrug that said ‘you know what’. 

Shit. Shit. When had she started caring whether or not Killian was single? When had she started thinking that he wasn’t? When had Ruby noticed? Emma didn’t do jealousy. They weren’t together, they were friends and they were sleeping together. She had no right to get possessive of her fuck buddy. He could do what he wanted. With whoever he wanted. It was none of her business. She didn’t care. 

“How can she be his wife if she’s not even with him on his birthday,” they heard one of the girls mutter under their breath when they thought they were out of earshot. It took Emma longer to put it together than it took Ruby. 

“What? It’s Liam’s birthday today,” she nearly screeched. Belle shut her eyes for a second, then gave a little sigh. 

“Yes. But you can’t tell him you know.”

“Why not?” Mary Margaret asked. 

“He hates his birthday,” Belle told them. “He has some weird complex about getting older. He’s refused to celebrate any birthday since his twenty-ninth. It’s stupid but he won’t let me even mention it. He’s having some kind of crisis.”

“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Emma said. It was.

Belle shrugged. “I know but… well, he never really had birthday parties when he was younger either, we didn’t have the money or parents to throw them for us. By the time he was able to, he felt too old for them. Now he just feels too old in general.”

“How old is he?” Ruby asked. 

“Thirty-two.” 

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Oh my god, he’s practically a child.” A sly grin came over her face then. “We should throw him a party.”

“He’ll never go for it,” Belle said, but she didn’t sound against the idea. 

“A surprise party then,” Mary Margaret suggested, getting excited. 

“I’ve wanted to throw him a party for years but he’s really got some hangup about his age. I don’t know if it’s because he was always a few years older than us or what but he really doesn’t want to acknowledge that he’s not in his twenties anymore.” She rolled her eyes in that way only someone in love could, like their partner was the biggest idiot they’d ever met and they absolutely adored that about them. 

“Okay then, let’s not throw him a thirty-second birthday party. Let’s throw him a sweet sixteen!” Ruby exclaimed. 

“Did he get a sweet sixteen?” Mary Margaret asked. Belle shook her head. “Then he’s overdue!” 

“Yeah, and come on, everyone knows a party is more for the people throwing it than the birthday boy. It’s our last night before three straight weeks of shows. We could use some fun, unwind," Ruby pushed.

"I’d love to be sixteen again without all the hormones and homework,” Mary Margaret sighed.

Belle smiled, clearly getting on board with the idea. “Okay, I’m in. But it’s going to have to be a surprise - a real one - or he’ll never let us get away with it.” 

“Awesome!” Ruby was in full combat mode now. “Belle, do you think you can keep Liam occupied all day?”

Belle hung her head. “Yeah. He’s been trying to convince me to go to this tall-ship exhibit in town. I swear he set up the tour dates just so he’d be here for it,” she groaned, clearly hating the idea of spending her day below deck on a bunch of old boats. Emma was starting to understand where all the nautical puns might have come from. Liam was a secret, giant nerd - just like his brother. “I’ll go with him,” she continued, and Emma could tell that this was really her taking one for the team. “If I let him give me a tour and teach me what he already knows about the ships, we should be there for a few hours at least.” 

“Your sacrifice is noted,” Emma said with a teasing smile. Belle laughed. 

“Okay, you go ahead and get him out and we’ll round up the others.” 

Emma knew there was no sense fighting it. She knew her friends well enough to understand that at this point her best option was to just do as she was told and join in. Besides, a party would be fun. Ruby’s parties were always fun. Mary Margaret’s themed parties were always even more fun. And who knows, maybe she’d get to play a little seven minutes in heaven with Killian. She smirked.

Once Belle and Liam had left, they rounded up the boys and filled them in on their plans. They were met with excitement and a little bit of mischief on the part of all three. 

“About time someone makes him get his head out of his own arse,” Killian said. “If he’s going to continue to insist on calling me little brother he’s going to have to eventually admit that he’s older than me.” He smiled. “What do we have to do?”

“We only have a few hours,” Ruby informed them. “Graham and Killian, you guys are on the room and the booze.” Emma wanted to protest, realising her friend didn’t know about Killian’s history but Killian gave her a small smile and shook his head, stopping her. 

“What about the room?” he asked. “Are we not just going to have it in Belle and Liam’s?” 

“No. This is a party. Their room is a little bigger than ours but barely -” she held up a finger when he tried to speak. “Shut up about your weird brother, size issue. That room is barely big enough for two people let alone eight.” Killian looked a little disgruntled but kept his mouth shut. “When you get the booze, make sure it’s only the kind of stuff you would have drank at sixteen. Shitty beer, wine coolers, vodka, whatever.”

“How are we supposed to get a new room?” Graham asked. Ruby looked at him with amusement.

“Honey, you’re famous now. Go let the staff know that they have rock stars staying with them and I’m sure they’ll gift you the penthouse.” She gave him and Killian a smirk. “And if that doesn’t work go bat your pretty little eyes at them and see what happens.” 

Killian looked way too excited about that option. Of course he would be. Emma wanted to roll her eyes. Ruby continued to assign their tasks.

“Mary Margaret, you and David are on food since you’re the two biggest foodies I know.”

“Really?” Emma said, surprised. “David?” She didn’t mean to be rude but she’d watched that man wolf down copious amounts of the nastiest, greasiest diner food she’d ever seen - without complaint. 

“Oh yeah,” Killian said. “Don’t get him started on his pancakes.”

David smiled. “It’s all in the cinnamon.” 

“Go figure out what the hell sixteen year old English boys eat and do your best to recreate it. Emma, you and I are on decorations.”

Emma sighed, resigned. She really really would have prefered to go help out with the booze or the food but she knew there was no point in arguing. She just didn’t relish the idea of tackling the dollar store with Ruby. She’d made that mistake once before.

The group was splitting up and Emma made a point to check in with Killian. “You sure you’re okay with this? I don’t mind switching jobs.” He was her friend. She was allowed to care if her friend was being put in a position that threatened his sobriety. She hadn’t realised she’d taken his hand until she felt him squeeze hers. 

“I’m fine, Swan, Really. We play in bars and I’m used to people drinking around me.” He gave her a soft smile then. “Thank you for checking.”

She cleared her throat, uncomfortable. “Whatever, I’m just trying to get out of shopping with Ruby.” 

He smirked, she knew he didn’t buy it. She didn’t blame him. She didn’t buy it either. “Of course, Love.” 

“Emma! Let’s go!” Ruby demanded and she sighed. 

Killian squeezed her hand again, laughing. “See you soon,” he said before heading off after Graham to try and seduce the poor girl at the front desk. She rolled her eyes again. He was such an idiot. It was one of her favorite things about him. 

The dollar store had been gruelling. Ruby had taken a serious ‘divide and conquer’ approach that was followed by her going over Emma’s portion all over again when she inevitably did it wrong. They were making their way back to the hotel now with every single sweet sixteen party decoration they had found in the four closest dollar stores as well as a few other decorations that Ruby had insisted she could make work. 

They’d stayed in touch throughout, Killian keeping her informed that they had, in fact, successfully used their ‘dashing good looks’ - his words, not hers - to convince the girl at the desk, and her manager to let them have the penthouse suite for the night. She rolled her eyes at him again. She didn’t know if he was more proud of this rock star status or his seduction skills. 

They reached the lobby and met the others there. Graham and Killian gave them their elevator keys and they all packed into the elevator with their bags. Emma tried very hard to ignore the memories that being in an elevator with Killian always brought on. It didn’t help that he was looking at her like he knew exactly what she was thinking and was intending to make good on the promises in his eyes. She wondered if everyone else found it hot in here. 

They got to work quickly. Ruby ordered them about like a drill sergeant as soon as they got into the room. Emma barely had time to take in the massive suite. There were three bedrooms and a pullout couch in the living room. Each room had its own bathroom and there was even a kitchen. This room was nicer than any apartment Emma had ever been in, let alone rented. Killian walked up to her as she stared in awe, threw a friendly arm around her shoulder.

“It’s nice to be famous, isn’t it?” he joked. Emma shoved him and he laughed. 

“Hey! You!” Ruby called, indicating at Killian. “Get over here and help Graham move the furniture.” They were trying to get stuff out of the way to have as much floor space as possible in the large living area. Ruby insisted it was necessary for the games they would be playing. However, the luxury of this place meant that all of the furniture was equally as luxurious and therefore apparently made out of the heaviest damn material in the world.

“Why doesn’t David have to help?” Killian protested.

“Because David is trying to figure out how and why the hell you would put macaroni into a pie,” David called back from the kitchen where he and Mary Margaret were scratching their heads while putting french fries into sandwiches and figuring out how to deep fry things that should never be deep fried, without a deep fryer. 

“Exactly. You’re just standing there flirting,” Ruby added. 

Killian sighed but walked over and took his end of the large sofa. Emma couldn’t help herself as she watched them - watched Killian - move the heavy furniture about the room. Her head tilted a bit, her tongue coming out to wet her bottom lip as she watched the muscles flex under his long sleeve shirt. She could see sweat starting to pool on his neck, his face straining a bit with the effort but still, of course, teasing Graham competitively about who was stronger. 

Ruby’s arms came around her from behind then, resting her chin on Emma’s shoulder. “They’re not so hard on the eyes are they?” she said with a grin. Emma wanted to scoff but she only laughed. “Come on, you can admit it. You’d have to be blind not to notice.” Emma only smiled. She knew what Ruby was doing. She wasn’t going to give it to her. “Let’s go. You can stare later,” her friend said, poking her in the ribs. “We have decorations to hang.” 

By the time they were done, the room looked like a John Hughes movie had thrown up on it. It was pretty perfect. Ruby had done an excellent job making the decorations just cheesy enough to be fun and quirky. The food smelled amazing and the booze was just the right reminder of her sixteen year old self to turn her stomach a little. That would be interesting. Ruby had spent the better part of the last hour getting everything ready for games - apparently there would be a lot of them. 

Mary Margaret and Killian had just finished pouring over the playlist of songs that were popular when Liam was sixteen. Was he more of a Geenday fan or Usher? She heard her friend ask. Killian smiled. Britney.

The clerks at the front desk had been instructed to give Belle an elevator key and she’d texted that they would be getting to the hotel in five minutes. They went about frantically, shoving the bags out of the way, tidying up the kitchen and shutting all the lights before finding a place to hide. 

Emma tried not to read into the fact that she and Killian had both found themselves behind the same couch. She tried even harder to ignore the way her pulse jumped when he pulled her against him, insisting she wasn’t hidden well enough. She didn’t know what his thumb gliding back and forth against her stomach had to do with hiding. She didn’t stop him though. 

The lights came on and they all jumped up, shouting surprise to a very flustered and then slightly annoyed Liam. He looked to Belle who shrugged at him and said something they couldn’t hear. He gave her a little smile.

“Happy Birthday, Liam!” Mary Margaret came up and kissed him on the cheek. “You only turn sixteen twice!” He laughed and let her and Belle drag him into the room. He thanked David as he was handed a packet of onion flavored chips and a Guinness.

“You’re nearly forgiven,” he said to his friend. He looked up as Killian put ‘Toxic’ on full blast. He glared at his brother’s shit eating grin. “You, I’ll never forgive.” 

They spent some time eating the surprisingly good, although strange, food. Why is everything in a pie? Emma wondered aloud to the laughter and defensive cries of all the Brits in the room. They even had a little bit of a karaoke party, singing along to all their old favorites. Emma was surprised at how many lyrics she still knew by heart. She was even more surprised at how many Kiley Minogue songs Killian and Graham knew off by heart. 

She had way too much fun singing Franz Ferdinand with Killian. She tried really, really hard to not connect the way he was singing the lyrics to her now to the way he’d sung to her five years ago. But there was something about being sung to by this man… no wonder half the world was in love with him. Her heart caught in her throat at the thought. Shit. She needed to stop drinking wine coolers. They were going right to her head, making her think about things she shouldn’t be thinking about. Like how much she wanted to drag him into a closet right now, but also how much she really wanted to be able to reach out and just hold his hand without caring about everyone seeing. 

The games were a relief as they were all forced to sit in a circle and Emma chose a spot far enough away from Killian that she wouldn’t be tempted to reach out and touch him in a way that was not at all friendly or sexual. At least until she could get her brain and her errant thoughts back under control, stop thinking about that middle ground between friends and sex that had been drawing her to him more and more. 

The first game they played was Truth or Dare. Graham went first and set the tone for the rest of the game - and the night really. He looked Ruby dead in the eye and asked her, truth or dare. She chose dare without hesitating. Maybe it was the couple of tequila shots Emma had forced him to do with her or maybe he was just tired of hiding it but he dared Ruby to kiss him. The hoots and the catcalls that filled the room were deafening and Emma could feel her face splitting with her grin. It was nice to see Ruby so happy. It was nice to see her with someone who wanted everyone to know they were together too. She looked over at Killian, who was beaming. He winked at her. 

Ruby went next, asking Killian who also chose dare. Ruby smirked before daring him to kiss the best looking person in the room. Emma saw his eyes flicker to hers and her heart skipped a little, wondering what he would do, if he would kiss her in front of everyone, what that would mean. He must have seen the panic on her face because he gave her a little smile before turning to David. 

“C'mere you handsome son of a bitch,” he said before placing a loud, smacking kiss on his friend’s mouth. David made a show of swooning and fanning himself. She wanted to thank him, thank him for understanding that she wasn’t ready for everyone to know, for not pushing her. But she didn’t have to. He knew. He always did. 

The next game they played was Spin the Bottle. That one got a bit weird, especially when Killian was forced to kiss his sister-in-law to their mutual disgust, and when Emma had to kiss Graham. She was pretty sure that David had some kind of special bottle spinning technique because he seemed to continuously land on Mary Margaret whenever it was his turn. 

Emma tried not to get annoyed at the fact that she’d now kissed nearly everyone in the room but the bottle had never landed on Killian. She’d wanted to kiss him since this morning when he’d waggled his eyebrows at her while he ran off to seduce his way into a nicer room. Who was she kidding, she always wanted to kiss him. She wanted to do other stuff too… but those were less appropriate to a sweet sixteen party with all of their friends around. 

They actually did play seven minutes in heaven. Emma hadn't thought Ruby would make them play this one but here they were, waiting for Belle and Liam to come back out of the closet as they all congregated around the snacks. Both emerged a little less than put together and the group applauded them loudly, throwing in a few crude remarks. Mary Margaret reached over to grab the next name out of the hat. 

“Emma!” she shouted and Emma hung her head at the cheers. “And…” Mary Margaret's hand went back into the hat and she opened the little piece of paper she withdrew. She crumpled up in her hand, keeping it down at her side. “Killian,” she said with a challenge in her grin. Emma glared at her. She didn’t believe for a second that Killian’s name was on that piece of paper. Mary Margaret held her gaze for a moment, matching it, and then she winked.

“Lemme see it,” she said, holding her hand out. 

“No.”

“Let me see it,” she repeated, reaching for Ruby. 

Mary Margaret practically jumped across the room. “No! That’s cheating! Cheater!” she cried as Emma tried to get the paper from her. “She’s cheating! Ref! Cheat!” She turned to Liam who looked confused and surprised. 

“Who me?”

“It’s your birthday.”

He made a show of considering it for a long time. “The judge rules in Mary Margaret's favor. Seeing the paper is cheating. And,” he added, pausing for dramatic effect. “As a penalty, your time has been upped to ten minutes in heaven.”  

Emma sighed. Shit. First Ruby knew, now Mary Margaret apparently did too. Of course they knew. They always knew. Liam probably did too by the sounds of it. They hadn’t been careful enough. She wanted to care more… but the fear and the anxiety she’d come to associate with anyone knowing about her private life didn’t come. Maybe that was just because she was going to be locked in a small room with Killian, alone finally. Maybe it was just because it was Killian, period. 

“Please, Swan,” Killian said, as he opened the closet door for her. “Do try your best to resist me.” She rolled her eyes at him. 

The door shut. It was quiet, the music and voices outside muffled. It was dark too, the light having been left off ‘as per the rules’. She could feel him standing in front of her, there was barely enough room for the two of them to fit inside, let alone without touching. His breath was on her face and she could feel the warmth of him. Her heart started to race. She didn’t know at what. He seemed to sense something because he spoke then.

“Really Emma, we don’t have to do anything. We can stand here for ten and then come out looking completely put together and Ruby and Mary Margaret will be none the wiser.” He reached out and found her hand in the dark, did that thing where he ran his thumb over her palm and then her wrist. It slowed her heart a little.

How did he always know exactly what to say, exactly what she needed when she herself wasn’t even sure? He was so kind, so considerate of her feelings and her fears and it made her heart warm to him again in that way that scared her a little. But not as much as it used to. She smiled though he couldn’t see it. Her friends knew. No matter how they came out of here they knew, and Emma suspected they weren’t the only ones. The cat was out of the bag, so why couldn’t she have a little fun?

Emma wrapped her fingers around the hand that was still toying with hers, brought it to rest on her stomach just above the waist of her jeans. She smirked when she felt his breath hitch, his whole demeanor changing at once, his muscles tensed as he leaned in closer. 

“And here I thought you’d be all bravado and false promises about how you could get me off in ten minutes.” It was her breath that hitched this time as his hand flattened against her stomach, reached down to the button of her jeans and flicked it open. 

He breathed into her ear. “I never make false promises.” 

His lips were at her neck then, trailing fire from her ear to the hollow of her throat as he pressed her back against the shelves, sealing their bodies together from chest to hips. She wanted to cry out but she made herself stay silent, not wanting to give the others outside any more fuel. His hips ground against hers, his hand still trapped between them and Emma fisted her hand in the back of his shirt as his fingers curled against her through the denim. 

He pulled back, pushing her shirt up out of the way so he could take her breast in his mouth, working her nipple first through the cotton of her bra and then grunting as he shoved it out of the way. The feel of his tongue on her skin made her whine and he shushed her all while pressing harder and more intently against her core with his fingers in a move that was not helping at all. 

Everything about his movements was quick and hard and dirty and Emma was already on edge, desperate for him to get rid of the damn barrier between her and his fingers so that he could touch her properly. She hitched a leg up over his hip, tried to pull him in closer, urge him to get on with it. They didn’t have time for teasing. He bit down on her nipple and she had to bite her tongue to stop the moan that tried to come out. 

They were running out of time. He needed to be reminded, needed a challenge. She reached for his hair and dragged him away from her breasts, forcing him to pay attention to her voice. “The game is called Seven Minutes in Heaven, Killian,” she said harshly, her breath coming out in pants. He growled, almost sounding disappointed but she also knew that he couldn’t resist a challenge. 

He pulled down the zipper of her fly and finally slid his hand inside. A choked moan escaped her as she felt his fingers against her heated flesh and he brought his mouth down over hers, keeping her quiet. He played her skillfully, like she was one of his goddamn instruments, knowing exactly where to tease and where to push to make her cry out. He didn’t waste any more time, sliding two fingers into her and finding her clit with his thumb.

“Gods, Love, how are you so wet?” he groaned against her neck, “I’ve barely touched you.” His voice was low and desperate and it shot heat down through her to where his hand was, causing her to roll her hips against his fingers. “That’s it,” he said into her ear, biting at the lobe as his fingers increased their speed, matching the desperate rocking of her hips. His thumb circled around the sensitive nub, faster and harder with each stroke as her hand buried itself in his hair, pulling it as she tried to ground herself to something. She was probably pulling too hard, it was probably painful, but he didn’t protest. 

“Fuck, Emma,” he breathed and she could tell he was watching her ride his fingers, whatever he could make out in the dark. “Fuck, I need you to come.” He increased the speed of his thumb on her clit, pressed down in a way that made her breath stop, made her cling to him like he was the only thing keeping her on this earth right now. “Come on,” he whispered, his tongue and teeth playing at the spot beneath her ear, his other hand finding her nipple through her shirt and working it with the same roughness he was showing the rest of her body, flicking and pinching. 

“Yes, yes,” Emma begged in his ear, her voice so low she didn’t even know if he could hear it. She could barely hear it. All she could do was feel as the coil in her stomach tightened more and more in time with the circling of his thumb and the thrust of his fingers and the bite of his teeth on her neck. 

He curled his fingers inside of her and she shattered, grabbing on to whatever she could find and all she could find was him. Her hand clutched desperately at the skin of his back under his shirt, at the hair at the nape of his neck as she continued to rock her hips, riding her way through it. She was trying to muffle her cry against his neck, her mouth open and desperate against his heated skin. 

She kept waiting for him to pull back, to slide his fingers out of her, to slow his onslaught on her breast and on her clit, but he didn’t. She could feel herself already climbing towards another peak, this one not even finished. 

She tried to question him but the words couldn’t come out, her breath ragged and choked as he pressed deeper into her, dragging his fingers against her walls. She threw her head back, she couldn’t handle the intensity of the feelings he was pulling from her, but she needed him to keep going, she was so close to coming again. 

“We have ten minutes,” he told her, the words pressed against the hollow of her throat, his tongue dragging hot and wet against the skin there before moving to nip at her jaw, at her chin. His fingers kept pushing and pulling and curling, adding a third and flicking at her clit in a way that made her cry out so loud that his other hand flew from her breast and covered her mouth. 

She didn’t care though, couldn’t bring herself to care or be quiet as he brought her higher and higher with teeth and tongue and fingers, her hips rocking against him, teeth biting down on the fingers pressed to her mouth until she came again, this one stronger and more earth shattering than the last. She felt tears stinging at the corner of her eyes as her body shook, convulsing as he brought her back down slowly, his lips soft now, gentle against her temple and her cheek and her lips. 

“Gods you’re beautiful,” he whispered, his hand coming to trace the line of her cheek. She didn’t think he’d meant for her to hear it, didn’t think he’d meant for the kiss he placed to her lips to be quite so soft and sweet and longing as it was but she didn’t care. She let him kiss her, kissed him back just as gently and carefully, savoring the feel and the taste of him. Maybe it was just the aftershock of her orgasms that was making her feel this soft and open. Maybe it wasn’t. 

They only just managed to right themselves, closing the fly and button of her jeans, Killian pulling his fingers into his mouth in a way that made her desire stir all over again, and then helping her smooth her hair and straighten her shirt before the door opened. Emma did her best to keep her breathing normal as they walked out with as much composure and dignity as they could muster. 

She really thought they had their friends fooled for a minute there as they were greeted with a somewhat disappointed silence. Then, Graham saw Killian and erupted in a cheer, David and then the others following soon after. Emma looked at him, trying to figure out what had set off the uproar when she saw it. Killian had a hickey on his neck. She didn’t even remember giving it to him. She saw Killian shoot her a panicked look as his hand snapped up to cover the spot. 

She let her face fall into her hand as their friends teased and ribbed them. But it wasn’t as bad as she expected. It was actually the exact kind of teasing she’d have expected if they’d really been sixteen and come out of the closet with a guy sporting a hickey. It was friendly and silly and over with quickly. She gave Killian a small, hopeless smile and a shrug. Maybe it wasn’t such a big deal if they knew, she thought. Maybe she had been blowing it all up in her head, letting her own fears and insecurities convince her that she had to keep it hidden. A hesitant smile pulled at the corner of his lips before his cheeks reddened as his friends bugged him. He looked a little bit smug and it made her feel smug too. 

The night continued on, there was more karaoke and some silly trivia games about Liam’s past, hosted by a smirking Belle. Emma didn’t get a single question right but laughed the whole way through. They gave him gifts, random, fun things they’d managed to find on their one day out. Emma had found a set of t-shirts at one of the dollar stores that read ‘captain’ and ‘first mate’. The excitement on Liam’s face and the dread on Belle’s was priceless. 

Killian played him a song. It was a little cheesy as a gesture but Liam seemed to appreciate it. The song was about growing up together, about brothers. It was sweet and nostalgic and it brought a tear to Liam’s eye as he hugged his brother. Killian came up to her later while people were distracted playing flip cup. She’d stopped drinking a little while ago, one more wine cooler and she was gonna be sick from the memories alone. She also realised she didn’t mind being sober, especially when Killian was too. It let her feel like she could be a little more open, like the others wouldn’t notice or would forget in the morning. 

“That was a great song,” she told him. He smiled. “You guys should add it to your set list.”

“Thank you,” he said. “That means a lot coming from you.” She rolled her eyes at him and he mimicked her, exaggerating the gesture and making her laugh. “You inspired it, you know.” She looked at him in surprise. “Really. Your song a few weeks ago, when we were playing the game, it was brave of you to be able to look back on a hard time and be open about it.” He shrugged a little. “It made me want to be brave too.” 

She was reminded again by that little passing comment of how similar their lives had been, how much it had shaped them as people - how differently it had shaped them. Her life had led her to be scared, closed off and untrusting of anyone and everyone who tried to get past her walls. But for Killian it had had the opposite effect. He was so open and considerate and welcoming of everyone, so open to love and happiness and friendship that she envied him. She liked that he told her that she'd inspired him, that she’d made him brave. It was nice to know that it wasn’t just her who often found herself challenged because of him. 

The party died down around midnight, all of them finding their way into different rooms and comfy spots and drifting off or passing out. Emma woke up suddenly in one of these spots, burning hot. She was damp with sweat and her skin felt like it was on fire. She realised she’d fallen asleep sandwiched between Ruby and Mary Margaret on the pullout couch under an extravagantly fuzzy blanket. 

She peeled herself off the mattress, nearly stepping on David who was curled up on a pile of pillows on the ground beside them. She needed to get some fresh air, cool down before finding somewhere less crowded to sleep. She remembered that there was a balcony off of the kitchen and headed towards it. She was surprised to find Liam there when she opened the large french doors. He whirled around, looking like he’d been caught, hiding something behind his back. 

“Oh,” he said, relaxing. “I thought you were Belle for a moment.” He pulled his hand back out and Emma saw a cigarette held between his fingers. He turned back to face the skyline, leaning on the railing and took a drag. Emma joined him. “Don’t tell my wife, would you? It’s my birthday and only an occasional indulgence.” 

“Tell her what?” Emma said, giving him a knowing smile. He returned it, nodding. 

They stood in silence for a while, watching the city below them, still alive in the middle of the night. Emma hadn’t spent much time alone with Liam, still didn’t know if he even liked her very much, but she noticed that he was similar to his brother in some way… he had that same kind of calm aura about him. It was harder, more serious and pensive where Killian was relaxed and carefree, but she found herself unwinding, enjoying the calm and the cool air.  

“Has Killian told you much about me?” Liam asked, his voice quiet in the still night. She looked up at him a bit confused by the question. He was still looking out ahead, drawing the cigarette to his lips again. 

“Not really. I know you were both in the navy together and that you taught him to play guitar. That’s about it.” Liam nodded, a strange, contemplative look crossing his face that Emma couldn’t read.

“Aye,” he said, still not looking at her. “We were. We both left after… after something very bad happened.” Emma wondered if he was going to continue. His brow pulled down and he flicked some of the ash into the darkness below them. “The official term is ‘friendly fire’. Neither of us were alright after that. Killian nearly lost his hand. It was years of physiotherapy before he could play like he used to again. And me… well, I almost didn't… I almost…" he paused and Emma put the pieces together. "Killian found me, saved me.” 

He took another drag and his hand was shaking this time. Emma’s heart was racing, with sympathy for Liam, for Killian. She didn’t understand why he was telling her this. “That’s the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life, almost leaving him alone. Killian doesn’t do well alone. That was around when he found Milah.” The catch in her breath must have given her away. “Ah, so you’ve heard about her. Milah helped him. Helped him heal and helped him deal with all the shit I put him through. He loved her more completely than I've ever seen anyone love before.” 

Emma felt tears wetting her eyes because she knew. She knew what had happened to Milah. “When she died… Killian, he…” Liam shook his head and Emma tried to put together the timeline in her head, wondering if that was when he’d started drinking. “Well, let’s just say that dashing good looks and musical talent aren’t the only thing the Jones brothers have in common.” 

Emma’s tears were slowly making their way down her cheek now as Liam turned to look at her. She knew what it was like to lose someone you loved, someone you loved so intensely that it consumed your every waking moment. Neal hadn’t died but she’d never really recovered from losing him, from what happened. It was another reminder of how closely entwined her and Killian’s lives had been. How maybe that was why she felt so drawn to him, felt he understood her like no one really had before. 

“I’m not telling you this to worry you or to make you upset, Emma,” Liam said, finally done with his cigarette and putting it out against the railing. “I just want you to understand that Killian loves with his entire being. It’s all consuming and unselfish. And when he loses that love… it breaks him.” She knew his next words before he said them. Knew this was a warning, a supplication. “So… be careful with him. Don’t let him continue to care for you if you can’t return it, if you plan on leaving.” 

Emma wanted to deny that anything was going on, but she couldn’t. Not to him, and not to herself anymore either. She’d tried. She’d really tried to keep things simple, to keep him at arm's length. She thought that she could handle it, that it could just be friendship and sex and nothing more. But she should have known that wasn’t possible - not with Killian. He was too kind and too caring and he knew her in a way that excited her and scared her too. He challenged her and she him. He’d wormed his way into her heart somehow, had found a crack in her walls or had scaled the mile high barbed wire she kept around her heart. He’d brought fun and light to her life and shown her how to be vulnerable again without being hurt. She cared about him. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t anymore. It wasn’t fair to him and it wasn’t fair to her. 

She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling small and frightened by the revelation and the things Liam had told her. But she also felt hopeful. She nodded at him and he gave her a small, understanding smile. He moved to head back into the room.

“Wait,” Emma said, reaching into her pocket where she knew she still had a pack of gum. She held it out to him. “So Belle doesn’t know.” She raised one shoulder in a shrug and he gave her a small smile, accepting the packet. He took a piece and handed it back to her. He was almost back inside before he paused again, he didn’t turn around as he spoke. 

“He’s in the second bedroom. The one on the left.” He walked away, leaving her alone on the balcony. Emma wasn’t positive, but she was pretty sure Liam had just given her his blessing. 

She didn’t think about it as she headed back into the suite, made her way over to the room where she knew Killian was likely sleeping. She opened the door quietly and paused for a moment. He was asleep, spread out over the covers on his stomach, his face smushed against the pillow and his hair a mess. She smiled a little at the sight of him, for the first time not trying to ignore the little butterflies in her stomach that seeing him always brought. He’d left the blinds open so there was just enough moonlight and light from the skyscrapers for her to make out the shape of his arms and torso, bare and uncovered by the blanket. 

She shut the door quietly behind her, kicked off her jeans and socks and left them on the floor. She found a little space on the bed next to him, laughing a little at the fact that he’d splayed himself diagonally across it. She curled up next to him, took a moment to just look at him, appreciate the way the lines of his face were softened in sleep, the way his hair fell over his eyes. She reached out to brush it out of the way, traced his cheek and his jaw with the tips of her fingers. 

She couldn’t help herself. She leaned in, pressed her lips to his. He stirred after a moment, seeming to wake slowly and notice her there. At first he was surprised, a small shocked sound leaving him as his hands came up and froze, hovering. But then she felt him relax and he returned her kiss, his arms reaching out to wrap around her, pull her to him. 

She hoped, really hoped, that he could understand everything she was feeling, that the way she kissed him, slow and exploratory, and longing, the way he’d kissed her in the closet, was enough to convey the things she couldn’t say, what she couldn't put into words. Because she still didn’t know what they were - still didn’t know exactly what it was that she was feeling. All she knew was that she wanted more and she wanted it with him. She wanted to try. 

Killian kissed her carefully, like it was the first time they’d done this, and maybe it was on some level. His lips were slow but purposeful as he pressed them against her own, puling away before dipping back in to kiss her again, his breath hot and heavy and mixing with hers. His hands were still, holding her to him with one on her back and on cupping her face as they lay on their sides, pressed to one another, their legs tangling under the sheet. It was sweet and restrained and meaningful in ways she couldn’t even understand. She'd never been kissed like this before.

She was the one who broke first, overwhelmed by the forgotten emotions that were slowly overcoming her, wanting to explore them, wanting to feel more of them but absolutely terrified of what that would feel like. She rose slowly and pressed him onto his back, moving with him. He didn’t break their kiss, didn’t let it change to the hot, desperate, needy kind she was accustomed to, but she heard the small hitch in his breath as she lay astride him. 

They stayed like that for a while, Emma enjoying the feel of him pressed against every inch of her, enjoying the way his hands kept sliding slowly up her back and into her hair. It was almost soothing. She felt safe and comfortable with him here in the dark, surrounded by moonlight and silence apart from the sounds of their breaths. 

She rose slowly and pulled her shirt up over her head, Killian’s hands found their way to her hips as she reached behind herself to remove her bra. When she looked back at him, he was staring at her like he’d never seen her before. They’d been naked together before, his hands and lips and tongue had touched nearly every part of her. But they were always rushed, always scrambling to reach their high, never taking the time to look. But he was taking his time now. 

His eyes raked over her slowly, his lips slightly parted, an expression she couldn’t read on his face, long enough that she felt her cheeks start to flush. He sat up then, pulled her against him and covered her mouth with his again. She was grateful for the distraction. She kept her lips on his, mouths and hands not wandering the way they usually did. There was just the slow stroking of his fingers over her back, tangling in her hair whenever he wanted to tilt her head so that he could kiss her deeper, explore her mouth with his tongue. 

She felt the desire building slowly inside of her, felt it simmering, growing and spreading through her rather than raging like it usually did, like it had earlier. She could feel his own desire pressed against her stomach, felt the way his hand tightened in her hair when she rolled her hips against it. 

They moved carefully to shed the rest of their clothes and Emma felt Killian’s lips pressing to her shoulder, to the line of her collarbone, and her throat as she settled back into his lap, each one sending warm shivers down her spine. He held her face in his hand, pressed his forehead to hers as she lowered herself down onto him, letting him slide into her, gasping at the stretch and the fullness. 

His hand found its way to her hip, guiding her as she rocked slowly against him. Emma had never done this slowly before, had never experienced the way that the heat and the pressure could build gradually and steadily, pleasure increasing and coursing through her constantly rather than just being an end result. 

Small, breathy sounds left her whenever he shifted, adjusting the angle or tugging their hips closer together with an arm across her lower back so that he could grind against her most sensitive spot with every drag of him inside her. Her hands found their way to his hair, his face pressed into her neck as he breathed heavily and more and more desperately against her skin. She could feel it, she was nearly there. 

She almost didn’t want it to end, wanted to keep feeling this constant, overwhelming burning inside of her as long as she could. She could feel him starting to shake a little beneath her, could feel the tensing in his muscles and she knew he was close too, knew he was holding himself back. 

“It’s okay,” she told him. She didn’t want him to hold back. She wanted to know that this was as intense for him as it was for her - wanted to know that this wasn’t normal, that this was different. He pulled his face from her neck, watching her as she rode him. She rolled her hips against him twice more before his nails dug into her skin and his face twisted in bliss and agony and relief. It didn’t take long for her after that, the sight of him sending heat shooting into every inch of her. One more grind, one more pull and push of him inside her and she was falling, calling out and shuddering in his arms as her back bowed. He held her tightly, both of them allowing each other time to come back down to earth. 

His hand found her hair again and he pulled her mouth back to his, this kiss a little more desperate, a little hungrier than the ones before, both of them panting against each other and still shaking from the aftershocks.

When their skin had cooled and their breath had returned to normal, Killian loosened his hold enough for her to be able to climb off of him. She settled on the mattress beside him. He didn’t ask and neither did she. Instead, he just lifted the blanket a little, an invitation, and she slid in against him, curling herself around him and letting herself just be held. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been held afterwards. Normally she ran before there was even time to consider it. She didn’t realise until now, until she found herself laying against his chest with his fingers tracing the length of her spine, how much she’d missed it. 

Something had changed - with them, yes, but also with her. She didn’t know when or why exactly it had happened, but she didn’t feel scared anymore. It was like with her music. Once she had let herself feel one thing, let herself be okay with being vulnerable, the rest had just fallen into place. She knew it was because of him, knew she’d been ignoring that for far too long now. She didn’t want to fight it anymore. 

Killian wasn’t like Neal. She’d never met someone more different from him. It was time she let herself feel something again. Trusted someone, trusted herself to feel something again. He’d proven to her already over and over that he understood her and respected her and cared about her. She was done with doubting him. She curled herself tighter around him, felt him press his smile to her forehead. She closed her eyes and let herself drift off to sleep. 

[spookyjiimfanfiction]

Chapter Five

Tear In My Heart | Series Masterlist

Warnings: Angst, as per usual.

Word Count: 2449

Authors’ Note: We hope you enjoy this chapter! :) (picture credit)

September 2014 - Beginning of the Quiet is Violent Tour

"This is so sick!" a loud voice erupted that was soon discovered to be Tyler, from the back of the new bus that they had recently acquired for touring. Everyone was still in awe of all that was happening for Twenty One Pilots after signing with Fueled by Ramen and knew that it was about to blow up. This tour would be the deciding factor. Laughing a bit at the happy boy in front of you, you looked over and saw Josh who was being uncharacteristically quiet as he looked around the main area of the bus. The look on his face was unreadable and so you decided to ask about it.

Just as you turned to speak, Tyler came jumping in and wrapped his arm around Josh while bouncing up and down excitedly, which made a small smirk appear on his lips to appease his friend.

"I need to go and get some Taco Bell to celebrate! Anyone want me to bring back anything?" Tyler exclaimed and looked between the both of you with a wide smile.

"I'm okay, Ty. You go get enough tacos to make your heart happy." You shook your head playfully and then Tyler's attention turned back to Josh.

"You know what I like," Josh replied.

"Obviously," Tyler nodded and darted out of the bus.

Now... it was just you and Josh alone. Sighing deeply, you watched as he collapsed onto the couch and looked anywhere but at you. Was he avoiding you? Brows furrowing, you walked over and then sat beside him on the couch, leaving a little space between your bodies.

"Hey. Are you ok? You don't seem like you're quite yourself. I was expecting you to be just as excited as Tyler was." You looked over his face as you spoke, noticing that he was taking in what you were saying.

"I'm... nervous. With all of this. Since we've signed, we've had more publicity than we've ever had. I don't know how I'm going to be able to handle this, Y/N," he spilled out his true feelings about the situation to you and you had to admit that you weren't really expecting him to be this open. But, it had always seemed so natural with the both of you.

"Josh, this all is a good thing for your band. I know that you've had some problems dealing with anxiety in the past, but people love you guys. You and your music means something to them or else they wouldn't be supporting you. They wouldn't be coming to see you play on that stage for your tour." You tried your hardest to make him feel better, but knew that it was hard to convince someone who was so terrified of being the center of attention that playing in front of quite a bit more fans would be ok. What did you know? You were just a manager.

He didn't speak for a bit of time and then finally let out a shaky breath after what had seemed like forever. You frowned a bit and then wrapped your arms around him tightly, bringing him into your side and resting your head on his shoulder.

"You'll be ok, Josh. I promise," you whispered. His body seemed a bit tense at first, like he wasn't sure what to do with what you were doing, but he slowly relaxed and wrapped his arms back around you. His head laid on top of yours and you could've sworn that he had just smelled your hair, but you brushed it off. Closing your eyes, you relaxed against him for a bit and just held him, enjoying how wonderfully your bodies fit together. But then, at the worst possible moment, Beau re-entered your mind, instantly making you feel terrible about what you were doing and now you were painfully aware of how close you were to Josh.

Quickly sitting up and moving away on the couch, he looked at you with a confused and almost... hurt expression.

"Y/N... did I do something wrong?"

"N-No! I just remembered that I-I have work to do! So, I'll see you later!" you exclaimed and hurried off of the bus. Once you made it outside, you leaned against the side of the bus and groaned a bit, covering your face with your hands.

Were you mad that you had done what you did or mad that you had to end it?

You lost track of how much time you spent leaned against the cool exterior of the bus, counting your breaths and trying to ignore how Josh’s arms felt around you. His touch was gentle, so unlike the way that Beau’s fingers usually dug into you. The way Josh had been holding you was for comfort, not control. 

Your heart started to race just thinking about it. Exasperated, you turned and pressed your forehead into the bus, squinting your eyes shut as you did so. Hadn’t these thoughts been part of the reason you had to take a break from tour in the first place?

Well, no. Beau was the main reason you had to leave. The boys had decided to take a break from normal touring after the release of their latest album - Vessel - to do a run of festival shows instead. Beau had insisted that you take a break from managing and have the boys hire someone who was trained for festival shows. After a bit of convincing, you gave in and followed Beau’s advice.

You had been bored out of your mind without the boys’ antics to keep you busy, so when they announced that they would be doing another tour of the United States, you were ecstatic. They had picked you up a few days ago and you and the rest of the crew had left Ohio - and Beau - behind for the next few months. You were sure that it was going to be the best few months of your life.

But now this was happening.

“What are you doing?” came a garbled voice next to your ear.

The sudden noise in such a close proximity made you jump back a bit. Tyler was standing a few feet away, clutching what remained of his soft taco in his hand. The other one held a paper bag that was already spotted with grease at the bottom, no doubt full of at least twenty more tacos for anyone who wanted them.

“Thinking,” you muttered, turning to lean against the bus. Your arms were crossed tight against your torso.

“About?” he asked before taking another large bite of taco.

“Nothing you would want to hear about.”

“You underestimate my interest in other people’s personal matters.”

“Where’d you learn all the big words, Ty?” you laughed, reaching out to give him a playful shove.

“We learned a lot when you were away,” he grinned. A bit of beans dribbled out the corner of his mouth. “Lots of self-discovery.”

You rolled your eyes at his sarcastic remark.

“Want a taco?”

Tyler held the paper bag out towards you. As expected, a whole myriad of soft tacos were piled into the bottom, covered by a small pile of napkins. You reached in and grabbed one of the tacos, deciding that a pre-show snack was never a bad idea.

“I’m surprised you’re not inside with Josh. You two rarely stand more than five feet apart.”

Your jaw clenched. Maybe a little distance from Josh wouldn’t be such a bad thing, after all. At least until you figured out exactly where you stood with him.

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “I just needed some air.”

“Some air, huh?”

“Don’t push your luck, Joseph.”

Tyler threw his hands up in defeat, “Not trying to.”

“Is Jenna going to be stopping by for part of the tour? It’s only been a few days and I’m already getting tired of all the testosterone on the bus.”

“She’s going to come by for a few weeks next month, I think,” Tyler said. The mention of Jenna was enough to get him smiling. “She’ll be happy to meet you, I bet. She’s always asking about you and wondering how you’re doing.”

“Yeah, I think it will be nice to have her around.”

After a bit of light conversation, Tyler's body shuddered as the wind started to pick up outside. He finished his taco completely and threw the wrapper back in the bag before motioning his head toward the door of the bus. 

"Let's go back inside. It's freezing out here!" He reached for the door and opened it up, making you freeze in your spot. Josh was still in there and you had just left him in the worst way possible without a real reason. It was in this moment that you wanted to just run away, but you had to suck it up, especially if you were going to be doing this tour with them for the next couple of months. You watched him hurry inside and you followed suit, but in a much slower fashion. You closed the door behind you and locked it up, indicating that everyone was ready to go and start your road trip to the venue.

Josh looked up and stared at you and Tyler for a moment before looking back down to his lap in complete silence. Tyler instantly noticed, but didn't say a word. He had gotten a vibe from you earlier, so he decided to just see how it played out itself. He sat down at the table and placed the bag down to start on another taco, before you heard your cellphone ring. Raising an eyebrow, you took it out of your pocket and saw Beau's name on the screen. You smiled and then leaned against the kitchen counter, legs crossed at the ankles as you answered the call.

"Lovey! Hi, I miss you!" you exclaimed as your boyfriend spoke on the other end to you in a returned greeting. You needed this interaction with him after what had happened earlier.

As soon as Josh heard those words, he gave a big eye roll and got up from his spot, making his way into the back while glowering. Tyler just smirked and shook his head, staring down at his food so that you couldn't see.

Watching as Josh left, you were a bit confused as to why he had done so, but you didn't say another word about it since Beau was still talking to you and you almost missed it. It almost came as a shock that his next question had actually been about Josh, but you knew that it was a question meant to make him feel better and that was all. But, it made you nervous regardless after the incident happened.

"So, how is Josh?"

"Oh, he's fine."

"Still just a professional relationship?"

"Of course, lovey." Nervous laughter ensued, but you managed to make it sound more believable.

Time had passed and you were now in your bunk wrapping up your conversation with Beau while Josh had moved into the main living room space with Tyler, sitting across from him at the table while eating tacos. Unknowingly, the both of them had discussed what happened between you and him and why the air was so thick with tension that you could cut it with a knife. It almost made it hard for Josh to breathe. As they were whispering about you and trying to figure out what to do, they hadn't noticed that you hung up the phone call and were now staring at them and trying to hear what they were saying.

"Keeping secrets from each other now, huh?" you said with crossed arms, tapping your foot a bit. The both of them whipped their heads over toward you with tortilla and taco remnants hanging from the corners of their lips. If you weren't trying to look so tough, you would've cracked up at the priceless looks they both had. They both fell silent after that and went on eating what they had left.

The next few hours flew by as you were going along the checklist as you did before every single show. It was weird to not have to play nurse with Tyler because of him hurting his toes from moving his piano. He didn't have to do it anymore, because he had people for it. You knew that their band was getting bigger just because of that happening. Sighing deeply, you made your way to the boys' dressing rooms with a bag full of goodies for them. You had done Tyler's room earlier, since it was extremely simple and to the point: Red Bull. That was the gist. You didn't know why, but you felt like you wanted to be a little more thoughtful with Josh's things.

Would this send mixed signals to him regarding your friendship? Most likely. Did you care? Not really.

Knocking on the door to make sure that no one was inside, it happened to be empty and you suddenly wondered where Josh had gone. Then it dawned on you. Josh and Tyler had separate dressing rooms, so Josh probably got lonely and went to go visit his best friend. Shaking your head at the thought, you slowly walked inside and then started setting up all of his snacks on the designated table. You made sure that it looked pretty and presentable for him, even though you know that it would all be destroyed and devoured later. To add the finishing touch, you pulled out a small note that you had written for him earlier in the day that you figured would help with how nervous he had been lately.

All it read was: 'Good luck tonight, Josh. You're going to do amazing! Y/N/N' and was signed with a small heart.

You set it down in front of the snacks and then turned to head back out, when the door opened up and in came Josh. He stopped dead in his tracks as you both stared at one another with wide eyes for a few moments. But, Josh was the one who decided to break the silence.

"Y/N, I -" he started before you cut him off.

"I just left you some snacks for before and after the show. I have to finish up some stuff, so enjoy!" you hurriedly spoke and then made your way out in a timely manner. Again, he was left confused.

He made his way over to the table and looked over his snacks hungrily, before spotting the note in front. He lifted it up to his eyes slightly and then smiled a little as he read it.

Maybe you really did like him.

*     *     *     *     *

Taglist

@topownsmyheart​ @faceofcontvsions​ @ohprettyweeper​ @tylersheavydirtysoul​ @svintsandghosts @wearebxnditos​ @breadbinishigh​ @patdsinner33​ @leam-2001

[lovelylunarwriting]

Yuta Soulmate!AU

Each soulmate has a timer on their wrist that counts down the amount of time until they meet each other for the first time

In college, the last thing you expected to be doing was going on a field trip.

You assumed that trips were just a thing teachers do to entertain bored elementary students, so when your professor announced the date for a day trip into the city to see some historical sights, you and best friend were pleasantly surprised.

“The trip will be three days from now!”, your professor announces and dismisses the class.

As you’re packing up your things into your bag, you notice the amount of time on your wrist timer has changed.

From three years to three days.

You shout and drop your things, accidentally scaring the hell out of your friend.

“Y/N?! What’s wrong?”, your best friend asks and you silently show her your wrist.

“No freaking way”, she says, grabbing your arm to inspect the timer closer. “Well you’re definitely not skipping class on that day”

Skipping was out of the question. Panicking for three days straight seemed perfectly acceptable. No one had said anything against freaking out.

Timers don’t usually change,,,, they’re predetermined by fate.

So why the hell did yours change and only give you Three. Days. Notice???

Everyone you asked had no plausible explanation, so by the day of the trip you’d accepted your newly altered fate.

And dress like a slammin’ hottie, of course.

Which is hilarious to your best friend who rolls into the train station wearing sweatpants and a hoodie.

“You’re looking especially cute for no reason”, she comments.

“No reason? Is meeting my soulmate not a valid reason?”

“I mean it’s not like they’re gonna hate you if you wear a t-shirt”

“That’s fair, I’d just rather be overdressed than under dressed . Helps me with nerves”, you admit.

Your professor shows up and gathers the group together, reviewing how the day is going to go.

“Remember to stay with the group at all times!”, he chimes and everyone follows him onto the train.

And yes, you do the whole “looking out the window and contemplating my future like I’m in a music video” thing, but if you don’t do it now, you’ll never get a better opportunity to.

You end up falling asleep against the glass in a matter of minutes though, and are only woken up when your best friend elbows you.

The two of you spend the day at the back of the pack, making sarcastic comments about the various tour guides and sights you encounter.

And of course you’re checking your wrist every minute out of sheer anxiety.

But something causes you to stop dead in your tracks.

After turning a corner to go to some museum, your counter jumps from fifteen minutes to six hours.

“What the actual fuck”, you say and your best friend finally notices your absence.

“What’s wrong?”, she asks, so you explain.

“What if it just keeps changing and I never meet them??”

“That won’t happen! We’ll figure it out, don’t worry. Think back- what exactly were you doing when it changed this time?”

“Well…. I starting following the group this way”, you say pointing towards your peers, who are staring at a statue with disinterest while your professor blabs on and on.

“Okay- then what if it changes if you go the wrong way? Try turning around”

“That’s stupid- why would it-”

“Just. Do. It”, she says with an amount of motherly scorn that has you automatically complying.

“It- it says seven minutes and forty nine seconds! Now forty eight! Oh my goodness this is actually happening, I think I’m gonna throw up-”

“It’s okay!! This is a good thing and they’re going to love you! It’s ensured by the universe sweetie”, she says.

By now the group has moved on, not realizing the two of you aren’t trailing behind them.

Finding your soulmate is more important that one assignment, so the two of you decide to skip.

You try to convince your friend to go back to the group but her exact words are “like hell I’m gonna miss this, now start walking”

And so you do. Street after street, the two of you scurry forwards, constantly checking your wrist.

You go North, the timer flips from seven minutes to seventeen minutes.

You turn around, and it goes down to five minutes.

This frustrating cycle last for like half an hour before you spot a guy across the street glaring at his wrist while the other boys around him laugh.

Which is essentially a mirror of your current situation- your best friend finds this all too amusing.

Slamming the crosswalk button, you shout across the traffic stricken road.

“HEY I THINK I’M YOUR SOULMATE!”, you yell and he somehow manages to hear you, but can’t find you in the crowd.

After what seems like y e a r s, traffic patterns change and you sprint across the street, grabbing the guy’s wrist.

3…

2…

1…

And zero, when you look up and lock eyes with this unfairly handsome man.

But hey- he’s yours, so thanks universe!

“His name is Yuta, by the way”, one of his presumed friends interjects after the silence and staring has gone on for too long.

“Yeah, and their name is Y/N”, your best friend chimes in and you just give her a look of “calm your titties plz and thx”

“Let’s get away from these losers”, Yuta says, sticking his tongue out at one of his friends Doyoung and leading you by the hand into a little coffee shop.

The two of you order your drinks, sit down in a little booth by the window, and then Yuta spills everything about how he’s been running around the city all. damn. day.

To which you’re like “bitch same but I’m taking the L in one of my classes for you”

And of course he immediately feels guilty, and even offers to come to your next class to explain to the professor about the whole situation.

You manage to get him to settle on paying for your coffee/tea/whatever.

“I’ll pay for this one, but you’re paying for our next date”, he teases, and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Date? Does this really count?”

“Why wouldn’t it?”

“Your friends are pressing their faces up against the glass behind you, for starters”, you say and gesture to the pile of boys making faces against the window.

He turns to the scene and dramatically sighs.

“You get used to it after a while, honestly. Except for Lucas, he’s always a surprise”

You wave for the boys to come in and are shocked to find your best friend in the middle of the testosterone pack.

By some freaking miracle and a lot of scooching over, all of you manage to squish into the booth and spend what seems like hours sharing stories and learning about one another.

And honestly,,, everything you hear about Yuta is all you’ve ever wanted in a partner.

Well- everything that’s true. Johnny tried to convince you that Yuta’s actually a lizard person, but that was fairly easy to refute.

Overall, the boys have nice things to say (it’s just also such a once in a lifetime opportunity to mess with a friend)

You went into the day expecting to find your soulmate, and ended up finding not only the love of your life, but a whole herd of friends as well.

Which is a hell of a lot better than any field trip, if you ask me.

[texastheband]

Sharleen blows her cool

By Nick Duerden Taken from Heat Magazine - 11-17 November 1999 

She's our most succesfull pop star and she gets to cavort on beds with male models. So why is Sharleen Spiteri in a bad mood? "Fucking flu" she tells Nick Duerden.

It is a cold, crisp day in the north, and Sharleen Spiteri is suffering from a lack of sufficient sleep. Last night's hotel had an air conditioning system that didn't know its hot from its cold. So the Texas singer tossed and turned throughout the night, one moment sweating, the next freezing. "I thought I had the fucking flu or something," she says.

Nevertheless, she looks delightfully rumpled today in the kind of manner only ever truly achieved by the rich and famous. She strides into a Manchester eatery under an artfully created birds' nest of black hair, and is wearing worn Jeans that are decadently fashionable and, doubtless, very expensive. She is the liveliest of company, picking delicately at a plate of hummus, but insisting on a plate of sausage and mash for heat as a hangover cure. Mash, it seems, is good for soaking up alcohol in the stomach. "You're bringing out my maternal side," she says. Later, she will reveal a fondness for Robbie, and refer to his one time bandmate Gary Barlow as "fuckface". Apparently, on an Italian pop show recently, he accidentally cracked her head open with his guitar, then blamed his attendant security. "If it wasn't for them," says the woman who stands at 5ft 5", "1 would have had him." Texas are here in Manchester halfway through a sold-out UK tour to further promote a very succesfull album. Following the four-million-selling, career-saving White On Blonde, The Hush has already shifted over three million copies in just six months. They are one of Britain's biggest bands, about to set their sights on America which they confidently believe they will crack. This is all a very different story from just three years ago. Back then, Texas were on the brink of ruin. Their record company were threatening to drop them, and they themselves were considering splitting. Since the top ten success of their 1989 debut single, I Don't Want A Lover, and the album Southside, Texas had been on a gradual downward slide. Their second album, Mothers Heaven, performed disappointingly, and very few people even noticed when they released a third, Ricks Road. With the exception of France, who still considered them splendid, Texas were uniformly regarded as a band dull enough to render even Del Amitri as rock gods. But then a very peculiar thing happened. Texas became hip, seemingly overnight. Purportedly steered by her journalist boyfriend, Ashley Heath (then editor of fashion magazine Arena Homme Plus), Sharleen became a sex siren, the band's sole focal point, and someone most adept at pouting provocatively before the camera lens. While the often exotic photo shoots looked like she was selling perfume, she was in fact selling the band. It worked wonders, too: suddenly, Texas were everywhere. And now look at them. Huge. Sharleen Spiteri, svengali boyfriend loitering somewhere in the shadows, has mounted the most successful make over in recent pop history.

How does it feel to have sold upwards of seven million albums in less than three years? How does it feel? It feels very secure. [Laughs] But I also feel incredibly grateful for it, because we were lucky enough to get a second chance. That doesn't happen much these days. I still find it hard to believe that we broke big on our fourth album. Nobody from the record company will admit to it now, but even when we delivered Say What You Want (White On Blonde's first single), no one was particularly impressed. We loved it, but I think they were simply no longer interested in us. It was like they were waiting for the record to fail so they could get rid of us. Instead, however, we sold an obscene amount of albums and suddenly they love us. I tell you, becoming very successful gives you an awful lot of power. Why was the album such a success, given Texas' then somewhat dull image? Simple: because it was a great record. We'd made the best music of our lives, and people were responding to it. The image reinvention certainly helped though, didn't it? I find it funny the way people are so obsessed about my supposed "reinvention". We've been around for ten years, so of course we're going to reinvent ourselves. It's called progression. True, but the suddenly glamorous image seemed very calculated towards making you quickly famous. Everyone is convinced that the record sold because I draped myself all over the press to plug it. In actual fact, I didn't start appearing on magazine covers until the second single, Halo, was already in the charts. We were becoming successful, so there was a demand for interviews, and I gave them. Were the rest of the band happy to take a step back? Absolutely. It took all the pressure off them. Let's face it, an attractive woman in a band is a pretty effective focal point. We were convinced we'd made a great record - the best of our career - and we wanted people to hear it. And the way to do that is to promote it. So I did. Is it true that your boyfriend had a guiding hand in the makeover? Not really. Obviously, having a boyfriend that works in journalism helps to give you an insight into how the whole business works, but I used to be a hairdresser, so I know a fair bit about image myself. We did talk about how to present ourselves because we knew that initially people wouldn't be interested in Texas and we wanted to change their minds. The whole music business Is a game in that respect, and we played it. Wouldn't you have done the same? Wouldn't anyone? Had you always wanted to be famous? No, never had. Still don't, in fact. I've never been bothered with it, to be honest. It doesn't interest me at all. Anyone can be famous. You can be famous for wearing high-heeled shoes, or blowing off presidents. I want people to say I'm a great singer, a great songwriter, that's all. If I simply wanted to become famous, then I would have got my tits out long ago. And I never have. Never will, either. Did it ever feel slightly foolish to be rolling around on exotic beaches like a supermodel merely to sell a band that used to wear woolly jerseys and hobnail boots? No, I had a great time, and they're great photographs. I'll keep them forever and show them to my children so that they can be proud of their mother. Everyone likes to look good in pictures, and those pictures make me look fantastic. Ten years ago I was very selfconscious about the way I looked, but I'm almost 32 now, and I've accepted that I've got a giant nose and other blemishes. But am I going to get major surgery? Nah, fuck it. I'll just ask photographers not to accentuate it and to light me in a flattering manner, that's all. Subsequent collaborations with Rae & Christian and Wu-Tang Clan also seemed like a very determined effort to suddenly become chic. Were they? I met Rae & Christian ages ago through my boyfriend, and I spent years namechecking the Wu-Tang Clan because I was a fan. Both came to work with us because they knew we were good at what we did musically. I've never been interested in being chic or trendy or cool. I just want two things: to make good music and work with people I admire. Did any members of the WuTang Clan come on to you? [Aghast] Absolutely not! But I know what you mean. If you put any man or woman in a room together there's bound to be something, some kind of spark. When they were first told that we'd love to work with them, they were like [adopts cheeky American drawl], "Hey, is that the chick with the funky red dress from that video [BlackEyed Boy]? I like her! ", but they were very respectful towards me. I was in awe of them. They're all huge guys, and they kept calling me "girlie". But then they heard me sing, and they were convinced I was black! [Fondly] Method Man is a lovely guy, you know. Do you feel sexy? Not first thing in the morning, I don't. I can look very rough indeed. But I don't want to be obviously sexy. I try to think what I find sexy in women - and it's not Pamela Anderson - and then work on that. I think the sexiest word in the English language is "no". It makes perfect sense, because everyone wants what they can't have. If you actually look at all the supposedly steamy photographs I've done, I'm actually revealing very little flesh indeed. In the video for Summer Son, you effectively dry-hump a handsome man in bed. Did he leave you, um, tongue-tied? Very funny. I'll tell you why I did that video. It was to suggest that it is possible to be unbelievably sexy and keep all your clothes on. That video was all about the power of suggestion, but ironically it wasn't allowed to be shown on television before seven o'clock because it was too raunchy. What hypocritical bullshit. All I ever see on MTV are women in ridiculous push-up bras, cleavage everywhere, and touching themselves. I wanted to make an alternative, but keep it just as sexy. It is also, presumably, fairly good fun cavorting with a male model of your choice? Well, I have to admit, it's a pretty good way to spend a day. [Abruptly changing subject] Incidentally, did you know that Summer Son has just broken us in Germany? Which is good news because Germany is the third biggest market in the world. We're massive there now. Not bigger than David Hasselhoff, surely? Germany, after all, is his stronghold. Do you know what? I think we're even bigger than him. How about that? Congratulations. Thank you, very kind. You exude confidence the way a teenager does testosterone. Does it ever spill over into arrogance? When I was a hairdresser, people thought I was really arrogant. Now, because of the band, I'm almost allowed to have an ego, but most people tend to think of me as level headed. Well, that's what they tell me to my face, anyway. Put it this way, I've not changed at all. I'm very ambitious, always have been. There are still a lot of people out there who don't like us and probably hate me, but I don't care about them. We're a band who sell a lot of records. That brings peace of mind and, yes, a certain arrogance. But, y'know, we've worked hard to get into this position. I'm not about to apologise for it. One more thing. What, if anything, turns you off in a man? Beards. When they get as big as that bloke's in The Royle Family, bits of food get stuck in thein. Disgusting! My father [a seaman] used to go off to sea for months at a time and come back home with a bloody great bush of a beard. Me and my sister would go after him with the scissors, screaming like banshees.

[thelastspeecher]

okay FIST OF ALL HOW DARE YOU CALL ME OUT LIKE THAT, also: consider, younger McGucket trio starting up a country band and doing tours. and like you said, Stan being a fan while Ford took up the banjo becuase he defs like how it sounds and not because of Fidds. No Sir!

Okay imagine: Harper’s provides special effects for some of Lute’s shows. The Stans ends up working part time has a roadie/helper for Harper. Ford helping with making the special effects while Stan does more heavy lifting. And like, while helping carry some of the band equipment catches the fancy of Lute who is practising on stage one day. Meanwhile Fidds is not-subtly hanging out with Ford ‘to go over the stage plan’. Meanwhile Angie is reading letters from a really well spoken fan named Sherm

Alternatively, if you want to go the Stangie route, imagine Stan showing off to Angie while lifting some heavy equipment. And Harper tells Stan off for slacking off. Meanwhile Lute gets letters from all over America telling him that they love his music. One letter even comes from a Valentino fellow, and another comes from Oregon and smells strongly of testosterone and lumber.

I combined all three asks, hope you don’t mind.

But no, no, this would be more of a Stute AU than a Stangie AU.  And…maybe Angie and Fidds would be guest stars every now and then at Lute’s shows or at his album.  Just bc I feel like, while Lute would feasibly want to be a music star, Angie and Fidds have their own passions they’ll want to pursue.  The idea of Ford learning banjo bc of Fidds is cute af and I love it.

Yes, yes, yes, Harper is the head of the tech stuff (head roadie?) for Lute’s shows.  Stan ends up getting roped into being one of Lute’s roadies, bc Harper catches him trying to steal a speaker or something, and tells him he won’t call the cops if he helps set up the stage.  And yes, yes, Stan manages to catch Lute’s eye while Lute is running through some songs.

There could be an explosive reunion b/w Ford and Stan, when Fidds drags Ford to Lute’s show.  Ford and Fidds get really close and have some romantic tension building up b/w them during one of Lute’s slow romantic songs, and they almost kiss.  But then Ford sees Stan, who is watching the show from the audience, so that he can properly admire Lute’s pretty face.  And then the Drama between Ford and Stan happens.  Idk what drama exactly.  But something happens.  And it disrupts Lute’s show.  Both Stan and Ford get removed from the event.

Stan shows off lifting heavy equipment to Lute, not Angie, bc that’s cute and I love it.  Harper doesn’t tell off Stan, since Lute doesn’t seem to mind Stan slacking off.

I like the idea of Angie getting a letter from someone, maybe it could be someone who particularly enjoyed one of the songs she does a solo on.  Ooh, or maybe Lute somehow manages to convince her to sing for one of his songs, as a duet, and her admirer particularly enjoys that song.  In addition to the fiddle solos she does on some of Lute’s other songs.  It could be Shermie that writes her.  Or Manly Dan.  Or maybe even someone else.  

[ra3lynn3]

Stay With Me Always

Chapter 1

I shift uncomfortably in the stiff plastic chair as I tug at the hem of my skirt, willing it to be just a few inches longer. I wonder then why I let my sister dress me for this interview. She promised I looked professional and smart; just the right winning combination. As there's no one else around in the small reception area, it's hard to judge the truth. Not to mention, my idea of fashion is jeans and a t-shirt with my hair pulled back in a braid. But Prim insisted I let my hair down. She even convinced me I should let her put a few curls in it. I'm certain I recall seeing my mother dressed something like this back when I was ten, which sets my insecurities on high alert. I stare at my hands on my lap and begin to pick nervously at my nails.

I, like the rest of Panem, have been looking for a steady job since the fall and subsequent rebuild of the government several years ago. Odd jobs here and there have kept me from being homeless. Barely.

I work most days (and nights) at a little diner affectionately called, Greasy Sae's, while the well-intended original name has long since been forgotten by its mostly inebriated, stoned, or just-don't-care clientele. Besides a basic need to stay alive, I am determined to provide a better life for my sister, Prim, and our mother.

Which is what brings me to this mostly humiliating moment in time. My friend, Gale, tipped me off about an opening here at Mellark's. Gale's girlfriend, Madge, works in the mail room and mentioned one of the head honchos was looking for a personal assistant. Unfortunately, Gale is often a man of few words, so I had little information to go off of to get me here. I spruced up my resume to include my vast knowledge of customer service (even if the customers are easy to please when they're hungover), and my uncanny ability to multitask (being the sole waitress in a small diner can be tricky), along with my stellar organizational skills (no one else was going to alphabetize the cans and boxes in the pantry, thank you very much). Whatever the case may be, someone liked what they saw and called me for an interview. Although, according to Madge, several dozen able-bodied people have been in and out of the towering office building, not to mention herself, in search of the coveted position. She swears the Devil himself would be easier to impress.

"Katniss Everdeen?"

A shrill female voice interrupts my thoughts. I look up to see an impeccably dressed woman with her hair piled high atop her head, adorned with several small butterfly clips. She has a number of subtle streaks of hot pink in her blond hair, and lipstick to match. Her lashes are heavy with mascara, and underneath, her eyes land on me and her lips purse. I feel her eyes raking in my appearance. I'm suddenly aware of my too-tight, too-short, too-old outfit that was pieced together from my mom's wardrobe since my argument for pants and a plain top were not compelling enough. According to Prim, it didn't help me "stand out" (her words, not mine). My stomach clenches. I dig my nails into the palms of my hands.

Right now, I would give anything to disappear. Butterfly blond turns abruptly and motions for me over her shoulder with a sharply pointed, well-manicured nail. With no further instruction, my response time is slow, but I jump to my feet before the door she came through has a chance to close. I take the opportunity to give my skirt a quick tug. It's then that I hear a sickening rip and feel the cool air hit the side of my thigh. I feel a rush of heat rise to my cheeks, and quickly glance down to assess the damage. The hem that barely reached the end of my fingertips has now slipped several inches up my right thigh. It's a miracle my under garments aren't showing. I barely register that the blond is talking to me.

"I'm Effie. I'll be showing you around today. Hurry, we have lots to do before we meet with Mr. Mellark. He insists on timeliness!"

If it's possible, her already fast pace quickens and I try to reason how I'm going to fix my skirt quickly in order to downplay my new street walker appearance.

Effie stops abruptly and I nearly slam into her. She frowns slightly as she sees me try to subtly fidget with my clothing. She unceremoniously hands me a hair net and cloth shoe covers. She quickly dons her items and straightens to face the doors in front of her. She smooths her perfectly pressed dress suit and takes a deep breath.

"This is where the fun begins!" She exclaims reverently as she pushes open a set of large double doors.

My senses are assailed with sights and sounds and sweet smells. Beyond that, I'm immediately overwhelmed by the sound of the loud machinery and the whirring of objects being seemingly flung from place to place by a dizzying amount of conveyor belts. I can barely hear Effie as she speaks above the roar.

"Mellark's has been a household name for decades, but of course you know that." She chuckles under her breath.

I did know that actually. We've bought their bread, when we could afford it, since I was a little girl. We even had a special white box on the counter to store it so it didn't spoil as quickly. When my father was alive, he liked to surprise us on holidays with a bag of their cheese buns. Christmas Day meant a loaf of their fruit and nut bread. I was always intrigued by its knotted appearance. Mellark's became synonymous with home. It reminds me of sweeter days when I felt whole.

"Each of the family's beloved recipes is made in-house and distributed throughout Panem." She drones on above the roar as we make our way to the opposite end of the factory. She points and gestures in several other directions as she guides our tour.

I nod dumbly as I follow close behind. I'm admittedly lost in my thoughts of the past when I realize a second too late that Effie has stopped abruptly once again. We bump into one another, and if looks could kill, I'd have been dead ten times over. I mumble an apology under my breath. Effie quickly composes herself after a small shake of her head, fluffs the base of her updo, and wipes the corners of her mouth. Effie begins to remove her hair net and booties. I follow suit and follow her through the steel double doors into a noticeably quieter area of the building. My heeled feet sink into the plush carpet and I try hard not to look too wobbly.

"This is the administrative area of the building." Effie gestures widely with her arms.

As I look around the sizable hallway, I notice dozens of framed photographs, newspaper articles laden with flattering headlines about the company, plaques, magazine covers and awards neatly hung in a pleasing array. No time to stop and look with Effie's breakneck speeds. When I tune in, she's explaining several of the duties I would be responsible for, should Mr. Mellark agree to hire me. Admittedly, I am largely unfamiliar with clerical work, but I know myself to be a quick study. As we round the corner, Effie slows her speed. This time I'm aware of the shift. Her reason for pause gets my attention and I follow her gaze to see two men standing several yards away engaged in a very tense-looking conversation.

Both stand uncomfortably close to one another. The older man plants his pointer finger in the younger man's chest, whispering something along the lines of 'get it together' through gritted teeth. Effie clears her throat to signal our presence in the hopes of breaking up this testosterone-driven moment. Both men turn to see us standing in the hall. The older man plasters a smile on his face and turns toward Effie.

"Effie!" He exclaims, taking several large steps toward us to quickly close the distance. "Who do we have here?" He asks, turning to face me with his still-fake smile.

I steal a glance over his shoulder to take in the defeated looking younger man. I quickly pull my eyes to the man in front of me as Effie introduces us. I abandon my death grip on the side of my skirt as Ryan, or 'Rye-to-his-friends', reaches to shake my hand.

"This is my baby brother, Peeta" Rye tips his head back toward the younger man standing behind him. Peeta does his best to keep his look of annoyance to a minimum as he comes forward to shake my hand as well. I'm struck by his warm, firm grip. He does little to show any enthusiasm toward our meeting and quickly releases my hand. He makes short work of unbuttoning and rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt.

Sensing his younger brother's foul mood, Rye commandeers the conversation with a, "Glad to meet you Katniss. I hope you can finally be the one to meet Peeta's ridiculous demands for an assistant."

He looks sideways at Peeta then leans in and whispers conspiratorially, "He's hard to please".

With a wink, Rye stands upright and gestures toward a door that I'm assuming he'd like us to enter through. Before I can make a move, Effie takes that as her cue to get to work. It seems that she simultaneously holds the door for the three of us, while ensuring enough water-filled glasses are provided and paperwork is evenly distributed to the men sitting across from me at a table that would fill the entirety of my kitchen at home. I feel the seam of my skirt stress and tear even more as I go to sit at the edge of a very plush, black leather swivel chair. My bottom nearly slips off the edge of the slick material. I quickly catch myself and look to see that Peeta has witnessed my clumsiness. I swear I see him stifle a smile and try to compose himself with a sip of water. I feel heat rise to my cheeks once again as I work to bite my tongue, holding in a passive aggressive comment that has no place in a much-needed job interview.

"So, Katniss, tell us a little about yourself" Rye begins as he skims over my meager resume.

I'm really feeling unsettled by how this entire event has gone from beginning until now, but I think briefly of Prim. Imagining her disappointment at the recap of this nightmare, I muster up my confidence and begin, "I'm a very hard worker. Have been my whole life. I'm not afraid to learn new things either."

"That's very original" Peeta chimes in. I detect movement under the table. It would seem Rye planted a swift kick to Peeta's shin judging by the grunt elicited from his clenched mouth.

There's something in his tone that sets my teeth on edge. I look between the two of them, debating if I even want to bother going on. I take a deep breath and resolve to say, "Listen, I know you've seen your fair share of people in and out of here for this job, but I really need this job."

Throwing all caution to the wind, I continue, "You see, I can't afford to put my little sister through school on a waitress's salary, and she deserves all the good things this world has to offer. While my resume may not be the most impressive one you've seen, I won't let you down."

The men look dumbfounded at my revelation. We sit in silence for a moment. I look down to my hands in my lap as Rye hesitantly says, "Thank you for your honesty. We'll be in touch."

I take that as my signal to leave. Standing to wobbly heels, I compose myself quickly and look to both men as I thank them for their time. Peeta's eyes hold mine a second longer than I expect. I stare back with an intensity that I hope conveys my determination. With a nod of my head, I turn to leave. Effie stands beside the door to the conference room.

"This way, Miss Everdeen" she says as she guides me back to the hallway and onto an elevator. "Thank you for your time", she says as she pushes the button to return me to the lobby and steps out from the elevator before the doors have a chance to close. She gives me one last look up and down, before I begin my descent.

As the doors close, I grab a fistful of my hair and let out a growl, cursing the powers-that-be for that unfortunate excuse for an interview.

I've completely blown it. Time to start practicing my speech for Prim.

I make my way out to the street, and as if on auto pilot, I pull my hair back in a braid. Giving one last look to the towering skyscraper beside me, I shake my head and begin my trek to the other side of town, The Seam, as it's affectionately called. Much of The Seam's people are blue-collar. A small group makes the daily commute into the larger part of the city to work in its offices, shops and justice building, but for the most part, families make a living by working in the coal mines.

My family is no exception. My mother worked in the city for a time, while my father kept long hours in the mines. When I came along, my mother resolved to staying home to care for me. I sometimes wonder if she regrets her decision when she looks back on her life. Although, like me, she was willing to make sacrifices for her family. In fact, if I were to claim any one thing I have in common with my mother, it would be her sacrificial spirit. Even though my father's death nearly broke her spirit entirely. His endless hours subjected to inhaling coal dust wreaked havoc on his lungs. He was dead three months to the day after his diagnosis. Lung cancer. I was 16.

I'm met with a soft tinkle of a bell as I pull open the door to Sae's.

"You're late, girl!" I hear Sae call from the kitchen.

"Hey, glad you could join us, Sweetheart!" I hear a familiar voice chide from the far booth to my left. Haymitch. One of the regulars and perpetually drunk.

"Save it, Haymitch." I reply as I dip behind the counter to grab a change of clothes. I hear him chuckle as I hurry to the back room and swiftly remove the source of much of my disdain. Without thinking twice, I pitch the clothes in the nearby trash can and make my way back to the front.

"How'd it go, Katniss?" Hazelle asks as she wipes a spot clean on the counter.

I give her a look that encompasses enough emotion that she knows not to pursue the topic further.

"It couldn't have been that bad" Darius, another regular, remarks.

"No, it was worse" I reply. I proceed to fill in my small audience on the play-by-play of the day. They respond appropriately with sympathetic silence and shakes of their heads.

"You could always help me with my geese!" Haymitch suggests from his seat at the booth.

I roll my eyes and hear Sae from the kitchen say something about me having enough work to do here and that the tables and floors aren't going to clean themselves. I take the hint and get to work, putting the day and its disappointments behind me.

It's a quarter past four when I hear the tinkle of the doorbell and a ray of sunshine enters the diner. Primrose. She smiles happily as our eyes meet and she takes a seat in front of me at the counter. I see the expectation in her gentle blue eyes and solemnly shake my head. She responds quietly with, "That's ok, Katniss. It's their loss."

I smile half-heartedly and fill a cup of water for her as she pulls a number of text books and paper from her accompanying bag.

"This isn't a library, Prim" Sae remarks as she pokes her head around the corner from the kitchen; her permanent residence.

Prim pulls a pleading look and Sae retreats behind the wall without another word. Curious, I pull one of the textbooks toward me and read the title out loud "Introduction to Human Anatomy." I try hard not to sound appalled at the title, which sounds far too intimate and challenging for me to comprehend. I was always an average student in school. I never excelled at anything in particular, but got by unnoticed for the most part.

Prim, on the other hand, really took to school and will often admit that she loves it. It's a good thing too, since becoming a doctor requires many years of her dedication. Our mother had a knack for healing when we were younger. When she worked in the city, it was for a small druggist, preparing medicines and doing minor first aid when necessary. People from our neighborhood would occasionally stop by for help if they couldn't afford the hospital.

"Classes started today, and I want to make sure I'm ready for lecture tomorrow." Prim says matter-of-factly.

I nod knowingly and leave her to it. I keep her cup full of water and force her to take a break at dinner time. By 9:30 I've completed my closing duties and break her from her concentration to pack up and head home. We walk in silence. I don't have the heart to pull Prim from her thoughts. Her head is always in her books, even if she's not reading. I've just pulled my keys from my jacket when I feel an insistent buzzing from my bag. I scramble to find my phone. The number isn't one I know, and given the late hour, I send it to voicemail. As we enter the house, Prim and I greet our mother as she sits nearly catatonic in front of the glowing TV. She utters a hello, but makes no move to get up. I throw my bag and jacket over the chair and begin cleaning up the mess my mother left the kitchen.

For the last ten years since my father's death, she makes it her mission to do the least amount of everything possible to get by. If she takes her pills regularly we can usually get a good streak of motivation out of her, but often these moments are followed by 'the fall out' as I've come to call it. Times where, like now, she abandons whatever work she has started and retreats to a quiet world in front of the television where everything is simple. Judging by the piles of old photographs and photo albums, she was making it her mission to organize the chaos.

I make quick work of piling the photos and putting them back in their respective boxes or books. Several catch my eye as I go about my task. Happier times. Prim and I as children dressed in make believe costumes. Holidays. First days of school. My parents wedding photo. Their love for each other never ceased to amaze me. I always admired them for it, even before I could grasp its depths. Now as an adult I can't even imagine what it must be like to love someone that much, so I don't even try. Love and romance never interested me much. I've had my share of boyfriends, but never once did I feel that 'thing' I'm convinced I will feel if the right person should come along. But who am I kidding? I have no time in my life for going out on dates. I have my family to think of and that's enough.

The buzzing from my bag pulls me from my thoughts. As I reach for my phone I notice I have a voicemail from that same number I didn't recognize earlier. As I push the playback button, I pull the phone from my ear as Effie's shrill voice fills the room.

"Hello Katniss. Effie Trinket calling from Mellark's. Please call me back at this number at your earliest convenience. Any time. I'd like to speak with you about the terms of your employment. Thank you."

I stand transfixed. Did I hear her right? I replay the message. Yes, I definitely heard her correctly. I feel strangely lightheaded. Maybe giddy is the word? I would never use that word to describe myself, but it's the best I can do. How that conversation must've gone after I left intrigues me. Oh, to be a fly on the wall! Without thinking I press the button to dial the number Effie called from. After two rings, I suddenly realize the time and go to hang up.

"Effie Trinket speaking!" Comes her cheerful trill.

"Hi, Effie. It's Katniss. I apologize for the late call..." I begin lamely.

"Don't be silly, Katniss. I'm always so busy I rarely get a chance to sleep." She chortles back. "I'm delighted to hear from you. Both Ryan and Peeta would like you to start as soon as possible. Does tomorrow morning at eight work?"

She rattles off these words and my mind swirls to put it all together.

"Uh, sure" I stutter dumbly. "I'll be there tomorrow."

"8 AM sharp." She confirms. I'm about to say goodbye when she interjects, "And Katniss... attire with a bit more fabric if you will, please?"

With that the phone switches off. I feel heat rising to my cheeks again. I sit down quietly in a kitchen chair, staring at the lines in the floor.

"Everything ok, Katniss?" Prim's voice shakes me from my thoughts.

"I got the job" I manage to push out just above a whisper.

"What?" She asks, coming closer. I look her in the eye and repeat my unexpected and joyful news. She shrieks and bends down to hug me. With a quick clap of her hands she stands and looks preoccupied with her thoughts. She starts muttering under her breath about picking out an outfit for me as she turns and heads toward our bedroom. Realization dawns on me about what happened last time she was left alone to dress me, so I quickly give chase.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12666126/1/Stay-With-Me-Always 

[monsterousmasterpiece666]

He saved me, now I save him pt. 2

Word Count: 3,563

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader, Natasha and Wanda mentioned more often compared to the rest of the team

Story includes: More fluff with Tony, and an introduction to the rest of the team. A bit of angst helping him through a nightmare, and falling in love. A crazy night out with the girls as he spoils you!

It had been about a week since your attack and the best day of your life. You met the Iron Man, and still had to remind yourself this wasn’t all a dream. You found a new job, thanks to Natasha, that kept you safe at home. You never minded staying inside and preferred it, especially in New York where the world always was close to crumbling. Every single day you were in the infirmary for a cheek up by the one and only Bruce Banner. His thing wasn’t really people but Tony insisted and when Tony wants something, he gets it. Your bruises were finally a greenish yellow color against your skin, and your eye had returned to normal. Tony kept his promise and was at your door bright and early every day, you were always so excited to wake up in the morning to let your hero in and watched as he interacted with Noir with so much love. He stared at you intently whenever you did something, almost as if you were fragile and you finally worked up the courage to ask why,

“Tony why do you always look at me like I’m some breakable china set?” He raised his eyebrows and continued petting the purring feline in his arms,

“Because you are as valuable to me as said china set.” Shrugging slightly after he replied and you couldn’t fight the butterflies in your stomach and heat rising in your cheeks.

It was the second week in and you finally got to meet the rest of the team, per your request to wait until you looked more like a normal being. Of course you met Natasha and quickly became friends, she always stopped by your place after a mission just trying to wind down and you bonded over your late movie nights and sleepovers. She gave you all in inside scoop on the squad so you knew exactly what to expect, and she didn’t disappoint. Steve was as charming as he was handsome, a man from another era trapped in the modern age. He shook your hand firmly, but made sure to keep his strength in check as he smiled. Instantly Tony felt a pang of annoyance by how long Steve held your hand and laid his arm over your shoulder causing you to blush,

“Alright Capsicle that’s enough touchy feely,” a grimace spread across Steve’s face as he pulled his hand away slowly.

“You know I hate when you call me that Stark. I know you’re trying to impress Y/N but there’s no need. We know not to mess with your things.” Blushing even brighter as you looked down at your feet and Steve started to walk away towards the gym you managed to squeak,

“It was really nice to meet you Captain America!” His face half turned as he smiled and nodded walking through the large double doors, Nat gently pushed you down the line to Bucky Barnes. He smiled the best you thought he could manage, feeling his genuine warmth you shook his normal hand as you felt Tony’s hand tighten on your shoulder slightly. Nat told you about their trouble and you decided to brush it off because everyone deserves chances.

“It’s really nice to meet you Bucky.” He shuffled slightly pulling his hand away as he nodded, his long dark locks falling over his face.

“It’s very nice to meet you ma’am, I think I’m going to join Steve in the gym.” He awkwardly walked away and you smiled up at Tony who seemed more serious than you’ve seen him since you met him. Finally you met Clint, Sam, Vision, Wanda, and Bruce again. They all seemed to be happy to have another person in Tony’s life. Apparently he’s been on the rocks, but since he had met you turned into a completely different person. Bruce told you that he had a serious drinking problem since Pepper left, and you made him happier and even on a more regular sleep schedule.

“Alright I think Y/N has met enough strangers for the day. I think I should take this beautiful lady on a tour of the building,” Tony muttered as you stood beside him. The others got the hint, Sam and Clint went off to some place to do something, while Bruce went back down to the lab. Vision vanished through the floor so you had no idea where he had gone too, and finally Natasha and Wanda started walking off before the red head turned and looked at you,

“Hey Y/N. Girls night between the three of us should happen soon. Too much testosterone around here for us gorgeous ladies! Maybe out to a club?” Wanda happily agreed as they wandered off to the living room area of the tower. Tony pulled you into the elevator as he grinned whispering in your ear,

“As long as I get to pick out what you wear,” the heat in your body rising as you smiled.

“I’m sure it’d be over the top and too expensive for my budget T. We both know I’m not some billionaire. Plus who would take care of my little boy back at home?” The elevator dinged as you reached the top level and raised an eyebrow before you felt hands around your waist as he walked you through the open doors. You couldn’t stifle the gasp that came from your lips as you saw the city skyline, the sun slowly setting over the buildings, causing the windows to glitter slightly.

“Tony it’s so beautiful up here. I’ve never seen the city from this angle. It’s always seemed…so dingy and danger prone.” He chuckled behind you as he rested his chin on the top of your head,

“Only danger prone to you my dear. That’s why you should count yourself lucky to have Iron Man by your side.” Those words filled your heart with such joy, and looked up at him, your long locks blowing in the wind to cover his shoulders slightly.

“Promise me? Iron Man will be there for me? Always?” Your voice was almost breathless at this point, as you realized what you had said.

“Always Y/N. You are very important to me. Like fancy china.” He laughed to himself as his soft lips met your forehead, his facial hair tickling your skin as you smiled. Of course your stomach decided to ruin the perfect moment between the both of you, as you laughed and turned around wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Maybe some dinner would be a good idea. I think the group is cooking downstairs tonight, join us please? It’d make me happy knowing you could stand the life we have with me. I know it’s utter chaos and most of us are in and out, but tonight I asked Fury to keep the missions to himself so we could all enjoy a night together.” You almost felt tears spill down your cheeks, never had any man done such things for you. Your ex had always gone out with his friends, you never met his family. Being with Tony was so different, and even though Nat warned you about it you couldn’t help but fall even deeper in love. Being in love with an Avenger is a dangerous thing, you could be kidnapped and used as leverage, or harmed and cause the team a rift. You couldn’t care less, Tony was all you wanted and you hoped he felt the same way about you. Pulling you out of your thought cloud you were slung over his shoulder and gasped protesting loudly,

“Tony! Put me down! I can walk on my own if you’ve forgotten!”

“I know you can Y/N. But why make such a beautiful lady walk when you can carry her?” He squeezed your thigh slightly causing you to gasp and burst out laughing as the elevator doors opened. You loved his playboy side, it always made you smile the most.

“Besides I’ve got to embarrass you any chance I get!” He laughed to himself while pressing the button. You tried endlessly to convince him to set you down before the doors open but he wasn’t having it. Finally you heard the ding and hid your face in his back, shaking your head.

“Um. Tony, are you kidnapping Y/N? In front of her best friend who happens to be an assassin?” Nat was the first to see you but quickly Wanda was by her side and snickered quietly before walking away.

“Yes! I’m going to take her to my room and have my way with her. Of course you already knew that.”

“Tony! Don’t say things that aren’t true! You promised me food and I’m starving! My stomach has growled against your shoulder a few times while on the way down here.” Hitting his back slightly as he finally set you down and shrugged and whispered in your ear,

“Maybe one day that story will be believable.” You turned quickly biting your lip as you looped an arm around Nat and walked back to the large room, the table full of food. Italian was your favorite and you felt like Tony made sure everyone else knew. Large bowls with pasta and different sauces covered the table, along with the matching plate sets and smiled to yourself remembering Tony refer to you as his china. Of course you knew the large amount of food was due to the many Avenging men surrounding the table. You sat sandwiched between Nat and Bucky, as the Tony took his spot at the head of the table looking at you.

“Alright team! Let’s dig in, we all deserve it since you were on your best behavior for Y/N.” Tony flashed his million dollar smile at you, which made your knees weak.

“Apparently you weren’t on your best behavior Stark. According to Wanda at least,” Steve mumbled as the table erupted in laughter when your face turned red. After stuffing yourself with your second plate of pasta, you noticed most of the others were on their fourth or fifth. It wasn’t such a big deal to them since they worked all of it off of course, but you couldn’t help but stare slightly. Bucky tried his best to keep conversation with you, and you happily accepted it. Tony on the other hand was not so cheerful, the rift between the two was still there and you knew, but you hoped that you could maybe get them to accept each other somehow. Finally everyone was done eating and you helped clean off the table with the girls, talking about your upcoming girls night. You really couldn’t wait, that’s never happened before you, having girl friends and all the other things. Finally settling on a club they both hugged you and retired for the night. You wandered around slightly knowing Tony was down in the lab you finally went out onto the balcony and stared up at the stars. A robotic voice scaring you,

“Ready to go home Y/N? I know it’s late and Noir is probably missing you like crazy.” You simply nod as your hero scooped you into his arms and flew you back home, and unlocking the door the both of you walked into the warm apartment and Tony got out of his suit. Like the other half of a magnet Noir was rubbing against his legs as you smiled, and walked off to your room and changed into your comfortable sleep clothes. A whistle escaped Tony as he admired your ensemble, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. It was just a pair of shorts and t-shirt your usual, as Tony sat in his sweats and grey tight shirt. Shaking your head as you smiled and grabbed his hand pulling him to your bed,

“Oh is this the part where I finally get to score?” He smirked as you hit his arm and pushed him onto his back. This was your favorite part about knowing Iron Man. The countless hours talking and learning more about him through the night until you both got tired. He usually left but tonight you really wanted him to stay with you again like he did the first night, but you actually don’t look like a beaten mess. He enjoyed getting to know you as much as you enjoyed knowing more about him. You would lay on your side, wrapping one soft leg around one of his, head on his chest, and arm draped over his waist. He would play with your long locks and rub your shoulder. It was perfection, and just so easy for the both of you. Your eyes had started to close the sound of Tony’s soft snore lulling you to sleep when you felt his breathing become ragged underneath you, quickly sitting up you look at him. The sweat across his face as he struggled slightly, mumbling under his breath you felt yourself panic slightly.

“Y/N…Anyone but her! Please don’t hurt her…She has nothing to do with Hydra!” He screamed and shot straight up looking around the dark surroundings, you flicked the lamp light on and looked at him grabbing his face with your hands.

“Tony, it was just a bad dream I’m here I promise. F.R.I.D.A.Y. could you bring us a big glass of what please?” You raised your voice only to ask this of her, and quickly the water was presented as you rubbed Tony’s back.

“Please drink Tony, it’ll help.” His face was pale and drenched in sweat as he took the glass and downed the glass of water, and you nodded at the suit which quickly left the room. Panic was still spread across his face as you helped him calm down by breathing, and talking softly to him.

“Y/N…I’m sorry. I’ve never wanted you to see me like that. It’s been happening ever since the war with Loki and the army of aliens, it’s just been so much.” You nodded and went to the bathroom quickly wiping his face with a cool damp cloth and smiled at him, kissing his forehead.

“Tony, we aren’t supposed to be perfect. It’s difficult to not worry about things, especially when you’re Iron Man everything seems to be more drastic.” He looked up at you and you sat beside him, pulling his face to your chest as you smoothed his dark hair, fingers gently touching his cheek. Moving around you laid him between your legs as he smiled slightly and placed both of his hands on your knees, you massaged his shoulders and rested your chin to the top of his head.

“Y/N, I know it must be weird. I just, haven’t been doing well since all that happened and sometimes the nightmares are too real. Did I say anything during this episode?” He looked up at you as you felt your heart race and nodded. Your eyes started getting heavy as he whispered softly,

“Y/N? You still awake by any chance?” You mumbled and nodded between his shoulder blades as you could imagine the smirk that spread across his face.

“Can I pick your outfit for tonight? I promise I won’t make it too expensive or go all out. We do have a mission tomorrow, Bucky, Capsicle, and I, in some foreign land. I want to go away knowing you’ll be so insanely beautiful and having the time of your life.” Simply nodding as you smiled and kissed his shoulder as you mumbled,

“Alright fine just hush and get some sleep Iron Man.”  He laughed quietly as you passed out instantly, snoring softly between his shoulders as he happily relaxed against you and drifted off as well.

That morning, when you finally both woke due to Noir screaming at you both for breakfast, you happily watched him stumble around and feed your child. He kissed the top of your head and smiled as you leaned up and kissed his nose,

“Alright Y/N. I’ve got to go to briefing all day, but expect your dress to arrive soon. Get a bit more sleep before the girls are here and you’re all getting ready. I’ll even let Nat use one of the good cars, don’t need to show up in a military vehicle.” He laughed, which made your heart thud louder as you nodded and gently tugged on his shirt forcing him to look at you before he got into his suit,

“You be brave my Iron Man. I can’t wait to see you again.” He nodded and hugged you tightly, and you truly didn’t want it to end but you knew what you were signing yourself up for. He got in and walked out the door and was off. You felt your heart leave your chest as you grabbed your now happily fed cat and wandered back into your room and collapsed back onto the bed catching a few more hours of sleep before your phone started buzzing off the hook a million questions asked by Nat. The girls finally agreed to come get ready at your place and heard a knocking on your door, peering through the peep hole you saw a delivery man you opened the door and signed for the rather large box. Closing the door you looked at the note and smiled as it read,

“Maybe you can model this for Natasha and she can take some photos. Would really love to see you, even if I can’t be there with the most beautiful girl on my arm. –T” You pulled the box close and smiled, as you finally walked to your room opening it, you noticed that there was a series of boxes, one long large one, topped by two smaller ones. Opening the smaller boxes you gasp loudly, a string of diamonds with a small red ruby encased in gold hanging off the middle. The second box held matching earrings and bracelet, you knew you were going to kick Tony’s ass when he got back. He did the exact thing you told him not too, but you couldn’t be too upset they looked so gorgeous and off set your skin, making you glow. Finally you uncovered the largest of the boxes and squealed with delight, pulling up the white and red dress. It was cut off mid-thigh as the white glittering fabric was accented by red piping along the sides, accenting your slightly round figure and you noticed the matching red heels. Tony certainly had taste and you were excited to slip it on. Finally after a few hours the girls showed up and Nat was happy to report she drove one of the fancier cars, you had no clue of the brand, and didn’t even have to argue with Tony over it. Natasha was in a black mini dress, with sequins adoring the top, her fire red hair curled in ringlets, and pulled back slightly. Wanda had on a deep red, almost mauve colored dress, with strappy high heels and her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. You eagerly slipped into the bathroom and straightened your hair, and slipped the dress and jewelry on, walking out as you slid your left heel on the girls screamed. You finally all grabbed each other and screamed happily, grabbing your phone you took selfies, making sure you’d set one or a few of those as your background on your laptop later.

“Um, Nat? Tony had a request…he wanted pictures of me dressed up…modeling it?” She rolled her eyes and smiled.

“Well at least he didn’t ask you to just take pictures in the jewels. Pose against the curtain over there Y/N.” Wanda was thrilled to find out you had a cat and was holding him close while you smiled at Nat and did some playful poses.

“Perfect! These will drive Tony mad!” You laughed as the girls nodded and you sent a few cute group pictures, before the slightly sultry ones in your outfit. Honestly you haven’t been this happy in a while, then you heard a knock on the door as Nat quickly made sure it was alright and opened the door. Where she hid that gun was a true mystery as she rolled her eyes and walked over to you holding deep red roses.

“To the most beautiful girl there at the party tonight, I can’t wait to see what you look like dressed in the outfit I chose for you. –T” blushing bright red as your phone pinged and you looked down and saw the message across your phone,

“Beautiful as ever, you will make this mission a bit more difficult to focus on. You lovely ladies have fun tonight, ask Nat not to wreck my car completely.” You held the roses against your chest and giggled as the girls set them in vase and pulled you out the door for the one of the craziest nights of your life…

 I really hope you guys like part two to this story! I’m really enjoying writing this! Tony Stark is simply adorable!

[greggsdiabetes-blog]

The Best, Most Dubious Excuses of the World's All-Time Dopers

New Post has been published on http://www.greggsdiabetes.com/the-best-most-dubious-excuses-of-the-worlds-all-time-dopers/

The Best, Most Dubious Excuses of the World's All-Time Dopers

A story published Saturday in the UK’s Sunday Timesaccuses Nike Oregon Project coach Alberto Salazar of testing performance-enhancing drugs on his athletes. The piece comes nearly two years after a bombshell report by journalist David Epstein into the gray-zone practices of the Salazar running group. Following Epstein’s report, the U.S. Anti-Doping Agency (USADA) initiated an investigation into Salazar, documents relating to which were leaked by the Russian-affiliate hacking group Fancy Bear and made available to the Times.

Salazar and Mo Farah, one of the athletes named in the report, both issued statements on Sunday refuting any wrongdoing, with Salazar calling the story “a denial of due process.”

While we await the outcome of the USADA case, we decided to compile the best, most dubious doping-related excuses in sports history.

The “Tainted Meat” Excuse

Former three-time Tour de France winner Alberto Contador lost his 2010 title after clenbuterol was discovered in a sample he submitted following that year’s 16th stage. Two days after his notification, Contador asserted that “the origin of the Prohibited Substance must have been contaminated meat,” according to the World Anti-Doping Agency (WADA) report. The agency promptly debunked the defense, saying that among a “high percentage of probabilities,” that scenario was “unlikely.” Contador is not the only athlete to blame faulty meat for concerning samples. In January 2017, CrossFit Games competitor Charis Chan testified that the ground beef she purchased from Target was responsible for a metabolite of an anabolic steroid ending up in her sample.

The “Secondhand Weed” Excuse

Canadian snowboarder Ross Rebagliati briefly relinquished his country’s—and the Olympic Games’—first-ever giant slalom gold medal in 1998 after popping on a urine test for marijuana. He famously contested the findings by suggesting he’d been around people smoking weed but hadn’t smoked it himself since the year before the Olympics (part of his strict prep regimen). Rebagliati would later reclaim his gold after a unanimous ruling by the Court of Arbitration for Sport, but he has never fully distanced himself from the green. In fact, Rebagliati even parlayed his infamy into a signature cannabis brand: Ross’ Gold.

The “Penis Pills” Excuse

ED seems to be a common plight among elite athletes. Or that’s at least what mixed martial arts and Ultimate Fighting Championship star Jon “Bones” Jones, U.S. sprinter LaShawn Merritt, and Italian cyclist Mauro Santambrogio would tell you. All three blamed male-enhancement products for their abnormal samples that led to doping accusations.

The “Turtle Blood and Caterpillar Fungus” Excuse

In the 1990s, Chinese women dominated distance running the way East African women do today. Nicknamed “Ma’s Army” after their coach, Ma Junren, the women set records at many distances, from 1,500 meters to 10,000 meters, some of which still stand. Junren attributed their success to high mileage and a diet of turtle blood and caterpillar fungus. But, as of last year, the athletes told a different story. According to a signed statement hidden from the media for 19 years, a powerful combo of forced illegal drug injections and fear of shaming their country led to their wins.

The “Evil Twin” Excuse

U.S. cyclist Tyler Hamilton took fourth place in the 2003 Tour de France, despite suffering a broken collarbone halfway through the race. Later, that feat would be questioned when a blood test showed stem cells other than his own. Rather than admit to doping—where a person intravenously adds red blood cells to boost oxygen-carrying capacity—Hamilton’s team argued that his results were actually caused by an absorbed unborn twin in utero, which would explain the two different types of blood.

Yes, there is some science to back that up: “That’s certainly a way in which a result like Hamilton’s could happen,” says David Housman, a cancer researcher at MIT, who testified on Hamilton’s behalf in 2005. After Hamilton’s later admission that he had in fact doped and did not have an unborn twin to blame for his blood test results, Housman’s frustration didn’t displace the medical possibility of this phenomenon: “I’m not too pleased with the case,” Housman told Outside, “but that’s the way it goes. The science remains the same.”

The “Sex Four Times, Plus Five Beers” Excuse

American sprinter Dennis Mitchell blamed having sex with his wife four separate times and consuming five beers the night before a drug test for the high testosterone levels found in his samples. “It was her birthday,” he said. “The lady deserved a treat.” While U.S.A. Track and Field bought it and cleared him of charges, the International Association of Athletics Federations (IAAF) wasn’t convinced and smacked Mitchell with a two-year ban in 1999. He is currently in a long-term coaching relationship with accused two-time doper Justin Gatlin.

The “Deflection” Excuse

Just two weeks out from Sebastian Coe’s 2015 election as IAAF president, German and UK media outlets joined forces to question the organization. The joint statement published in the Sunday Times declared that the group had not followed up on hundreds of suspicious doping tests. Rather than taking this evidence seriously, Coe called the reports “a declaration of war on my sport.” Coe could have addressed the slow but steady conflation of “his sport” with doping by coming out hard against PED use. Instead, he took a hard-line defensive stance that would prove to be misguided in the years to come.

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