#'starts off smelling like the laidback boy next door but turns to smelling like a fuckboi full of red flags over time' on ch*ldes 💀💀💀

[alsoyooraiyah]

fanmerch is nuts, just found a perfumer on shopee that has genshin-inspired scents and so many reviews say they make sense for the characters?? is this it is the the beginning of my perfume era

#the reviews are so fucking funny with how specific they get #'smells like hugging your boyfriend after a day out' on alhaith*ms #'first spray punches you HARD but then it mellows down to something sweet that makes ur heart flutter' on wrios #'smells like a rich father' on d*lucshasjkdhsjfkhdsf HELP #'BRO SMELLS SO HANDSOME AND FRUITY 🍇🍇🍊🍒🍓🍓' on k*vehs ohhh my god #'starts off smelling like the laidback boy next door but turns to smelling like a fuckboi full of red flags over time' on ch*ldes 💀💀💀 #i cant with these but my god im SOOO SO so curious... am i really going to buy a few samples... #each and every one has so many people saying they can see the character smelling like it... #to this day i still wish i managed to get the satan one when om cam out with perfumes >.> i actually liked how his was described...

[fire-or-clear]

"Rings on or off, baby?"

───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※─── ───※ ·❆· ※───

summary ~ riding with the winchesters isn't exactly a walk in the park, but you wouldn't give it up for anything, especially now that you've got john wrapped around your finger.

pairing ~ John Winchester x reader

warnings ~ significant age gap, very slight daddy kink, a bit suggestive, talk of weaponry and hunting

rating ~ T

this isn't much, just me trying to get back into writing using a prompt i saw a long time ago. it's been an age, and even when i wrote a whole lot more, i've only ever posted like two things on tumblr, so i really have no idea what i'm doing lol. please let me know what you think, and if the rating or warnings need to be changed(:

You take John’s hand as he helps you climb down from his truck, and you absently note the feeling of cold metal against your fingers. You hide a small smile at the reminder of this morning.

You and John wake up like you usually do, wrapped around each other. The sheets are bunched up at the foot of the bed, like normal. He always gets hot in the middle of the night, whereas you’re always cold, but having John’s overly warm body pressed against yours, head to toe, usually does the trick to keep you warm.

John presses a sleepy kiss to your lips, and the two of you get distracted for a few minutes, before John forces himself to climb out of bed with a groan. You chuckle and watch as he ambles into the bathroom to shower, and then you roll over and get comfortable in the warm spot he left behind. Perks of taking night showers, you get to sleep in while John wakes himself up with his morning showers.

You doze off, and you don’t know how long it’s been before you feel fingertips drag lightly down your spine. You hum sleepily and turn your head to face John. He’s crouched down beside the bed in just jeans, with a small smile on his face.

“Time to get up, baby.” He informs you. You pout and bury your face in the pillow. john chuckles and you hear him moving around, and you look up in time to see him tug a t shirt over his head. You watch as he pulls his usual jacket on, and you finally climb out of bed as he sits down on the edge to put on his boots. You walk over to your bag and pull on a pair of panties, and then you hunt around the room for your bra, which always disappears when John is the one to take it off of you. You find it draped over a chair, and you pull it on as well, and then you return to your bag and grab a pair of jeans. You tug them on, and then you grab the shirt John was wearing yesterday and tug that on as well. John smirks and pulls you down into his lap as you pass by. You wrap an arm around his neck and press a kiss to his jaw. He tangles his fingers in the shirt.

“You don’t have a clean one to wear?” He asks, and you roll your eyes.

“Of course I do. But why would I do that when I could wear your shirt and smell like you all day?” You drawl. John presses a kiss to your throat, and you shiver as his stubble scrapes your skin.

“Now why would you want that?” He wonders.

“Cause I love the way you smell. Your cologne, your favorite whiskey, wood smoke, and something that’s just.. You. Makes me feel safe. It also makes me want the real thing.” You murmur, before tugging him into a kiss. He wraps his arms around your waist, and you slide a hand up to tangle your fingers in his hair as he nips at your lower lip. You two get distracted, again, but this time you’re the one to pull away.

“Hmm, we got work to do. You gonna let me up?” You ask, looking down into his eyes. He smirks at you.

“You gonna ask nicely?” He retorts. You give him a shy little smile and lean in so your lips are brushing the edge of his ear.

“Please, Daddy.” You murmur sweetly. John groans and loosens his grip on your waist, and you climb off his lap. He smacks your ass when you turn to walk away, and you give a surprised yelp.

“You’re gonna pay for that, you just wait, sweetheart.” He drawls. You give him a wink as you sit down on the coffee table to tug on socks and your boots.

“Whaddaya think, rings or no rings today?” He asks, and you look up and see him turning one of them between his fingers. You finish lacing up you boots, and then walk over to where he’s standing. You grab your three favorite rings and slide them onto the correct fingers, pressing a kiss to each one.

“Rings. They look good on you, and I like the way they sound against your gun.” You answer. John chuckles and cups your cheek, tracing your lower lip with his thumb.

“Is that right? What makes you think I’ll be using a gun today?” He asks. You give him a little smirk.

“We’re in Texas, darlin’. You’re in my world now, and I’m telling you, you’ll find a use for that gun today, one way or another.” You answer, pressing a kiss to his thumb. He smiles and shakes his head.

“I’ll take your word for it. You wanna load the truck, or wake the boys?” He asks.

“I’ll take the boys, far be it from me to stop you from lifting heavy things where I can see.” You answer with a grin. John rolls his eyes.

“I’ll take you to the gym next time I go, then you can look all you want.” He retorts. You scoff.

“I like the gym, darlin, you’re the one who can’t be assed to set foot in one.” You remind him as you pull away and tug your jacket on.

“Why would I, I get enough of a workout while I hunt.” John grumbles. You laugh and shake your head.

“Whatever you say. I’ll see you in a minute.” You tell him. He gives you a quick kiss, and then you head next door. You have a key, so you give the door a warning knock, and then you unlock it and step into the room Sam and Dean are sharing. You hear the shower running, and note that Sam must be awake. Dean, however, is still in bed, buried beneath a mountain of blankets. You head over and sit on the edge, pulling the blankets back a little and then pressing your ice cold fingertips to Dean’s bare back. He flinches and groans into his pillow.

“‘Go ‘way.” He mumbles. You laugh.

“Not gonna happen. Cmon, John is loading the truck and Sam is in the shower. We’re waiting on you, pretty boy.” You hum. Dean turns his head towards you with a sleepy glare.

“Not a pretty boy. Sam’s the pretty one.” He huffs. You press your lips together to keep from laughing.

“Sure darlin. Now get up, or I’m telling Sam that you said he can drive the impala today.” You reply. Dean’s glare intensifies, and then he sits up with a groan. The blankets pool at his waist, and he quickly grabs them and yanks them up to his neck.

“Why is it so cold in here?” He asks. You shrug.

“No idea. Did you mess with the thermostat last night?” You ask. Dean shakes his head.

“Sammy, did you turn down the temperature last night?” Dean says, and you turn and see Sam exit the bathroom. Thankfully he’s already dressed, otherwise he’d be blushing right now. You, Dean and John don’t give a shit how dressed or undressed you are around each other, Dean cause he’s just laidback that way, John because these are his sons and you're his lover, and yourself because you were in the army and it’s just skin. That’s not to say you'd like to be completely naked in front of your lovers sons, but if you're just wearing a towel, or if they catch you in a sports bra and spandex, you don’t really give a shit.

“No, I think it’s broken. I tried to adjust it before I showered, but it didn’t work.” Sam answers, rubbing through his hair with a towel. Dean starts cursing, and continues to curse as he jumps out of bed and stumbles over to his bag, yanking on clothes as quick as he can. You chuckle and turn to Sam.

“The impala already packed?” You ask. Sam nods.

“Yeah, I threw our bags in there before my shower. You and dad all set?” He asks, and you're silently thankful that it’s not weird for him to say that anymore. You get it though, you knew Sam and Dean before you knew John, and then there’s the fact that you and Sam are the same age and Dean is only 4 years older than you, and here you are, sleeping with their dad. So you get how it’s a little weird.

“Should be, he’s packing the truck now.” You answer. Sam nods and sits down to put on his shoes, and Dean does as well.

“Let us know when you’re ready to hit the road.” You tell them before you step outside the motel room. You pull your pack of cigarettes from your jacket pocket and slide one out, along with the lighter in your jeans pocket. You light up and take a long drag, and lean against the wall. You turn and watch as John checks his weapons cache in the truck. Then you walk over and open the passenger door, and climb up and reach behind the bench seat. You grab your holsters and start strapping them on. You shrug off your jacket so you can pull on your shoulder holster that holds four daggers, and then pull your jacket on over it. Next, you tug your pant leg up and tuck two knives each into the compartments on the insides of your boots. You strap a hunting knife to your hip, and then climb down and walk around the truck to stand beside John. You flick the ash off the end of your cigarette, and watch as John straps on his preferred assortment of weapons, including, you note with a grin, his gun, hidden beneath his shirt and jacket at the small of his back. He catches you grinning, and he scoffs. He reaches out and pulls you close.

“It’s just in case.” He says. You nod.

“I know. You’ll need it.” You tell him matter of factly. He rolls his eyes and plucks the cigarette from your lips. And proceeds to take a puff and then drops the cigarette and stubs it out with his boot. You pout up at him.

“That wasn’t very nice.” You complain. He chuckles.

“Those aren’t very good for you.” He retorts, exhaling the smoke. You scoff.

“Well I know they aren’t very good for me, but darlin’, I’m not very good for me.” You reply. He chuckles and leans in close.

“No, but you leave that to me. I ever been bad to you?” He drawls. You bite your lip and tilt your head.

“Only when I ask for it.” You murmur. He chuckles lowly.

“What can I say. Sometimes you deserve it.” He tells you, lips brushing against your temple. You flush and bury your face in his chest, and he wraps his arms tight around you.

“Look at you, going all shy on me. Gonna have to get a room away from the boys tonight. I’m gonna make you scream.” He informs you. You glance up at him and see how dark his eyes are, and lick your lips.

“You promise?” You ask innocently.

“Yeah baby. I promise.” He rumbles, sliding a hand beneath your shirt and running it up and down your spine. You shiver as the cold metal of his rings grazes your skin.

“You alright?” You hear, and you look up and see that Sam and Dean are standing with you and John next to the truck. John and Sam are looking over something on the hood of the truck, and Dean is right beside you. You smile and nod at him.

“I’m fine. Just a little scatterbrained is all.” You tell him. He nods.

"You ready to show us how to hunt, the Texas way?" He asks. You chuckle.

"Sure, D. But are you ready, is the real question." You retort. He scoffs.

"How hard could it be." He grumbles, and you laugh and get ready for another day with your boys.

#john winchester x reader #john winchester fanfiction #john winchester oneshot #john winchester headcanon #john winchester fic #john winchester imagine #supernatural fic

[saladejin]

Call An Uber? | 06

BTS x Reader | idolverse au, uber driver!Reader, translator!Reader | Fluff, flirting, super slow burn, angst and hurt/comfort, mature themes and eventual smut

Summary: Your normal life with a normal, yet inconsistent job gets drastically changed when your dreams come true. Sounds boring right? What happens when all of this occurs, but you’re still doing something you love AND getting a large sum for it? Now there’s something to think about, and it’s definitely not what you’re thinking.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.8k 

< masterpost >

A/N: This is a short chapter entirely focused on BTS’ point of view, and it basically addresses their thoughts and opinions that have developed since Chapter 1. (I’ve been re-editing some things from the original version)

Enjoy :)

»»————- <<prev | next >> ————-««

      BTS POV

  “Hyung, I’m not burning this am I?”

Seokjin clicked his tongue and wandered over to where Taehyung was hovering over a sizzling pan. The contents within steamed thickly, and the hissing sounds were noisy enough to drown out a horde of hungry trainees.

“No, it’s meant to be like that. Let me know when the onions turn golden.”

“Okay.”

Taehyung exhaled sharply and stirred whatever was in the pan once more, trying his best to avoid splatters of searing oil. The younger vocalist was known for his smooth and seemingly perfect tanned skin, so having little burn marks littering its surface would be super annoying.

Suddenly, the front door jolted open, and both men working in the busied kitchen whipped their heads upwards at the sound of loud voices filtering through. 

“Confidence is seriously so important,” Jimin’s voice was raised, as if he was agitated. Hoseok responded with his own murmur of agreement, but both dancers drew to a halt when they finally inhaled the scents emitting from the kitchen.

“Wow! Hyung that smells amazing,” Jimin praised. The young dancer took a seat at the countertop while making sure to rest his sports bag underneath the chair.

Taehyung pouted and stirred again, playfully whining to gather everyone’s attention. “Hey, I helped!”

Seokjin chuckled and reached over to turn the heat of the stove to a lower temperature, finally allowing Tae to stand upright with no danger of getting burned.

More compliments towards the delicious smells emerged when a couple of the remaining members, Namjoon and Yoongi, trudged into the living area. The two rappers soon returned to their conversation regarding their recent tracks, barely seeming to take in the world around them as they lost themselves in musical discussion once more.

“Can someone get Jungkookie? It’s almost ready,” Jin then spoke, and shifted to taste the food with a small spoon, smacking his lips and groaning at the heavenly mix of flavours.

Hoseok snorted at the sight. “I thought you always said to never taste the cooking,” he quipped, then shrugged at Taehyung’s blankly confused expression. Nobody had gotten up to rouse their napping maknae, but they all knew he’d be drawn to the smell of food sooner rather than later.

“Were you guys just out for practice?” Namjoon questioned in a slightly louder voice once he spotted the dancer’s sports bags under the bar stools. He, Yoongi and Hoseok had plopped onto the plush couch in front of the TV to relax, waiting for dinner to be dished up.

Jimin swirled around in his stool, almost toppling over a glass of water in the process. He ignored Seokjin’s warning mumble and focused intently on their leader. “Oh, best practice ever!”

“True, wait what happened after I left?” Taehyung gasped and rested his wooden spoon inside the steaming bowl of vegetables, much to Seokjin’s disappointment.

“Well, we didn’t get to stay for too much longer, but we taught her the chorus part.”

Hoseok broke off into loud sniggers as he recalled the memories, while Jimin slid off the stool to contribute better to the conversation.

“Wait, you were teaching a girl how to dance?” Namjoon lifted an eyebrow while Seokjin reluctantly turned the stove off to let the food simmer gently. He was too curious to miss out on this news.

“Yeah, it was just (Y/n),” Jimin provided, and Namjoon eventually nodded slowly, still seeming utterly confused. Taehyung, after receiving the eldest member’s permission, bounded over to where everyone was gathered either on top of or in front of the couch.

“She dances really well but doesn’t give herself enough credit for it.” Hoseok’s eyes were blown wide, and his voice had an almost offended tinge to it. Jimin nodded, smiling and shaking his head at the thought.

“It was so funny, I never expected her to just start dancing like that.”

“Neither did I!” Taehyung exclaimed with a voice full of shock, “I was laughing way too hard, I feel kind of bad now.”

“Nah she was fine, she’s actually super laidback. It’s really strange to see, but it just makes her fun to be around.” Hoseok grinned when Jimin and Taehyung nodded eagerly in agreement. Before anyone else could input, the sound of shuffling footsteps brought everyone’s attention to the hallway.

“Why are we talking about (Y/n)-noona?” Jungkook rubbed his eyes, which were bleary with sleep, and hastily joined Taehyung on the floor in front of everyone else. Most of the boys chuckled at their youngest member and how it looked like he’d abruptly roused himself from his comfy bedsheets just for this conversation.

“Wait, if we’re talking about her, why hasn’t Yoongi-hyung told us off?” The dark-haired maknae’s question triggered various sounds of realisation, and everyone’s eyes swivelled to the mostly silent member in question.

“Well, I’ve met her now, so I can’t get that angry over it anymore,” he revealed, and Hoseok blinked rapidly.

“What? You didn’t tell us?”

“When?” Jungkook and Jimin chorused, the latter giggling quietly afterwards.

“It was only last week sometime, so I would’ve brought it up eventually.” Yoongi furrowed his eyebrows suddenly. “And I told Namjoon, so it wasn’t as if it was a secret.”

Namjoon nodded, his smile stretching wider and his dimples making an appearance.

“Yeah I knew, I just didn’t think it was a huge deal…obviously I was wrong.”

“You’re all missing something really important!” Seokjin suddenly cried out, his voice rose as he playfully slapped the armrest of the couch next to him.

“Why am I the only one who hasn’t met her?”

Everyone laughed loudly at their eldest member and his angry outburst. Hoseok grasped both of Seokjin’s shoulders and coddled him, fussing in a high-pitched voice.

“It’s okay hyung, your time will come.”

“Why are we overreacting about this? It’s just like meeting anyone else, for crying out loud,” Yoongi’s insulted tone battled his small smile as he protested loudly.

“Well, s-she’s different than the average person!” Jungkook stammered, and Jimin made a loud noise of agreement, pointing to Jungkook and nodding. “She’s a foreigner, and I’ve never seen her be shy about anything, it’s actually really interesting.”

“Well, she’s been embarrassed, that’s for sure.” Hoseok covered his mouth to stifle his laughing, and Jimin turned his pointed finger to the rapper, sharply exhaling in amusement.

“Damn right. Jungkookie even promised he would make her blush one day, but Hoseokie-hyung and I bet him to it,” the blonde gloated.

“Hey, not even fair,” Jungkook clicked his tongue. He was suddenly reminded that he had, in fact, told her he would accept the challenge of bringing colour to her cheeks again.

Seokjin shook his head, still bewildered over the conversation that had transpired. This girl had suddenly appeared in their lives and now she had somehow left her mark. He could only grow annoyed because he would never admit it, but he was fairly jealous. Why did he have to miss out on every single time she was there? He shook it off, trying to regain somewhat reasonable thoughts, and got to his feet to dish up dinner for the night.

“No more talk about (Y/n), we have delicious food to eat.”

“I don’t care what anyone says, I think she’s really pretty. Jiminie, please tell me you felt how soft her skin was.” Hoseok held out his open palms towards Jimin, and the younger widened his eyes.

“I thought I was the only one who noticed that!”

“Hey, that’s weird, I hope you guys didn’t do anything creepy,” Namjoon huffed in disbelief and a look of concern crossed his features. He was completely stunned, but he was still smiling.

“No hyung! It was just her arms!” Jimin buried his head into his hands, face erupting just like it had back in the dance practice room. Hoseok only laughed and slapped Namjoon’s back in retaliation.

“Yeah Joon-ah, not everything has to be perverted.”

Jimin didn’t hesitate to jump to his own defence along with Hoseok, but his head just wouldn’t rid itself of memories of the woman in question. The way she’d felt underneath his careful touch. How she’d seemed so small standing beside him, attentive and eagerly watching to obey his every instruction.

In the car during their first meeting, she’d had such an outgoing and charismatic presence that made Jimin want nothing more to befriend her and gain a sense of mutual respect, but in the studio, her sudden shyness and undertones of vulnerability made him want to hold her closer instead. He wanted her in ways he never thought he’d want someone he realistically should’ve still known as ‘stranger’.

On the other couch, Yoongi eyed Jungkook who was just sitting there looking dazed and confused about the entire situation. The elder of the two couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter before diverting his attention to the darkened window, the mere view of their struggling maknae too comical to stand. Taehyung was giggling, and he reached forward to slap Jimin’s knee.

“So that’s what happened after I left! You guys are terrible.”

Jimin groaned and batted away anyone who tried to tease him further. He wondered why nobody was beating up Hoseok, seeing as though he was the one to bring up the topic of touching girls in the first place.

“Yah! I’m serious, if you all want dinner, no more talk about (Y/n), if I hear (Y/n) one more time…” Seokjin shook his head, also concerned about the shift the conversation had taken.

When not one of them responded, the black-haired man craned his neck around to see what had caused the silence to befall them.

Jungkook was observing the floor with a tiny shy smile plastered on his face, his eyes darting side to side and his lips pressed together apprehensively.

Jimin’s smile was wider as he brought his hands up to his face, the blush still dancing across his cheeks as he tried to gently massage it away. He ruffled his blonde hair, as he usually did when he was feeling bashful, and for some reason swallowed nervously.

Taehyung had regained a fairly blank expression, but Seokjin knew he was thinking hard because the boy’s teeth gnawed occasionally on his bottom lip before running his tongue over the pressured skin.

Yoongi was still gazing out of the window absent-mindedly, his brows knitting together from time to time, and that was the only indication that he was thinking about anything at all. The rapper bounced his left leg whenever he lost focus like this, so it wasn’t hard to see that he was currently lost in another world.

Hoseok was busying himself by organising the contents of his bag, but his lips would suspiciously quirk every two seconds, and he even chuckled randomly once before getting up to make his way over to the dining table.

Namjoon had gotten to his feet as soon as Seokjin had warned him, but his gaze was glazed over with deep and conflicted thoughts. His fingers fiddled with the bottom of his long, black shirt in heavy distraction, and Seokjin observed with astonishment how his leader’s full lips eventually tugged up into a meaningful smirk.

“What, are you all fucking whipped!?”

          Copyright © 2020 by salade. All rights reserved.  

tagged:@l4life​, @joyful-jimin​

#bts fanfiction #bts x reader #bts #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #bts scenarios #ot7 #idol au #bts crack #bts imagine #reader insert #kim namjoon #bts rm #park jimin #bts jimin #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #min yoongi #bts suga #jung hoseok #bts j-hope #kim seokjin #bts jin #kim taehyung #bts v #fluff and angst #salade-tb #call an uber?

[lennydaisy]

EPIPHANY SERIES // OUTER BANKS // CHAPTER FOUR.

(n.) a moment when you suddenly feel that you understand. or suddenly become conscious of something that is very important to you.

                  “Care to seize the day, my friend?”

Outer Banks                                                                                                                 Season 1-                                                                                                                      FEM OC! and ?

Warnings! This chapter does have mentions of violence and panic attacks.

Here’s the link to Chapter 3 in case you haven’t read it already <3 Check it out!!

The Outer Banks isn't exactly a big island. With a population of 50,000, what do you expect? Everybody knows everybody. Kooks know Kooks. Pogues know Pogues. And unfortunately, Kooks and Pogues know each other too.

They might have tried to divide the island, but they can't divide the people.

There are no secrets in the OBX and if there is, they get found out eventually. That's what tends to happen when you're at each other's throats constantly. Anything can happen, especially when someone's reputation is on the line. Also, when you live in a community where the only thing to do this work, fish, and then work some more, even the most unsuspecting people will begin to buzz with excitement at the chance of an interesting day. Even if what they're talking about isn't true at all.

I learned this first hand when my dad went missing. Anyone and everyone will jump at the chance to start rumours, wanting to be the first one to claim they know for a fact what happened. Shocker, but these people don't know shit.

"I heard he was abducted by aliens."

"No way. Did you not see his beard? He was obviously an addict."

"Maybe he followed the mom. With children like that, I'd jump at the chance to leave too."

"Maybe they did it."

It feels like history is repeating itself.

Irritation rips through my body as I tug off my shoes, hopping in an attempt to see the damage done to my heels. Grimacing at the blister that has found its home on the back of my ankle, blood spotting around the brim of my now white, stained socks.

Pushing forward through the streets of the cut, just wanting to get home, I keep my head ducked down, walking on the balls of my feet in hopes of dodging the small stones that litter the path. The summer sun now at its highest point in the sky, beating down on me overhead as it burns my scalp, leaving a painful tingle at the crown of my head.

It's the start of the sunny season. The best time of the year. Endless nights filled with drunken rushes and hearty emotions. You lose yourself in the blaze and are completely content with never finding your way out. Shopping cart races down the uneven streets. Dancing freely on the dim-lit porch. Getting attacked by an army of mosquitos. And watching the stars twinkle from the comfort of a scratchy hammock. That's summer.

Some residents of The Cut spend their summers fishing and having disorganised garden parties. Others still have the misfortune of having to work through this obnoxious heat and have to deal with even more obnoxious Kooks.

Believe it or not, it's not the teenagers that are the biggest hassle on the island. It the elderly. And we have plenty of them. During the winter they're like hermits, never leaving the comfort of their homes. Delivery services and the postman become their best friend for four months of the year.

When summer arrives it's game over, especially for those Touron families who just wanted to get away from the bustle of the in-country. Only to be welcomed by off-the-rails pensioners.

The cliché for Fireman is to save cats from trees, right? Not at the cut. A few summers ago I had to call the fire services to collect the 83-year-old lady who managed to get herself stuck in the tree just outside the Château.

It was a weird experience. All most cult-like. The old lady laughing her head off as a group of elders cheered her on. I did try to get her to come down, but I got told to 'live a little,' and got a shoe to the face courtesy of the lady in the tree.

Point proved. They're batshit. The tiniest bit of sun drives them insane after being hauled up inside for no one else's fault but their own. Someone should tell the poor dearies that winter in the Outer Banks isn't like the ice age.

That's why what I'm currently looking at is terrifying.

In a freshly mowed lawn, all seated in orderly rows beholds what appears to be the street's resident elderly. Perfectly placed garden tables covered with toppers, bottles of wine fully on display, even though they appear to be drinking out of teacups, and the mouth-watering smell of BBQ meat. It seems like the perfect way to spend the summer afternoon.

Diverting my confused gaze from surprisingly stable elderly, I pick up the pace, limping my way past the garden. Hoping that my grumbling belly doesn't sound as loud as I believe it too.

"Did you hear about Scooter Grubbs?"

"Oh yes. Poor soul. He didn't deserve to die, he was a good man."

"Good man!? If he's a good man then Peter here's a Godsend."

"Hey!"

"I caught him in a Grady White the other day, probably stole it."

Grady White?

"It's just a coincidence. It's just a coincidence. It's just a coincidence." I thought out loud, now practically run back to the Château. My brain working a mile a minute, the conversation that I heard playing on repeat.

'Scotter Grubbs.'

'Die.'

'Grady White.'

'It's just a coincidence!'

Slowing to a walk when I spot my house, lightly as possible I tiptoe down the dirt path, my feet hating me for every stone and stick that I seem to stand on. My hands swinging back and forward, the laces of my shoes slapping against my thighs as I voice my thoughts, "It just some freaky coincidence. Maybe I've been voodooed? Maybe I just heard wrong? Yeah! That's it, I should clean my ears, I'm hearing things wrong-"

My tangent of self-explanations ease to whispers as I catch sight of Pope, alone, at our small dock, appearing to be securing the 'HMS Pogue' from becoming adrift. About to call out to my friend, wanting to tell him about the crazy gossip that I heard on my walk home, but Pope sees me nearing the Château and makes a mad dash back into my house.

'It's just a coincidence?'

Brushing off the boy's odd action, I continue my walk to the front door, wanting nothing more than to just kick my aching feet up and chill.

"Deny, deny, deny."

Pushing open the sheer porch door, the room falls into an abrupt silence. Pope finding interest in his hands. JJ flicking his lighter. John B throwing an empty beer bottle from hand to hand. And Kiara finding interest in her shoes.

Not even standing in the house yet, the door still being held in my hand, I just gaze at my friends in amusement. Licking my dry lips, I toss my trashed shoe's beside the coach that is being occupied by Kie and Pope. Not even blinking an eye, I make my way over to the straw chair, next to the recliner that holds JJ.

The usually satisfying noise of the distressed straw under my weight echos around the room with an unsettling crunch. I wait. Picking my chipped nail posh off my nails, wincing as I place my feet on the small table in front of me.

I finally close my eyes, embracing the silence of the Château. The sound of distant crickets and the odd screaming of the gulls that roam the skies bring me to an oddly calm state. My body seems to sink into the surprisingly comfortable seat despite the uncomfortable looks that I can feel being sent my way.

"JJ stole a gun and money from Scotter Grubbs' motel room!"

There it is.

Pope finally cracking under the pressure of my laidbackness. Slowly opening my eye, I catch the glares been shot in Pope's direction. The boy has never been very good at keeping secrets, I don't know what they expected.

Turning to the blonde beside me, "You have a gun?" I ask warily. Not that I don't trust JJ, I just don't know how to feel about a firearm being in my house.

He doesn't answer me. No one did.

Placing my feet back on the ground with a painful wince, I look bored at my friends, "Is no one going to talk to me? You're going to keep me in the dark?"

I still get no answer, not even a look in my direction. The air suddenly becoming too heavy for my liking, I push myself up from my chair and make my way through the house. I can read the room and clearly whatever happened they don't want me to know so, that's that.

My room hasn't changed since I was four years old. My once pink curtains now faded with the constant sun shining against them. My lopsided wardrobe that is hanging onto its hinges for dear life, overflowing with the unnecessary amount of clothes I have. My oak bedside table stained with coffee cup rings and the head of my bed that is taken over by the herd of stuffed animals that I have accumulated over the years.

Everything in this room has a memory.

Like the glow in the dark stars that I stuck to the ceiling above my bed. JJ and I had a fun time that day. Bouncing on the bed in hopes of getting at least one to stick. From time to time the odd one will fall off and slap me in the face during my slumber, but that's expected when you're roof has been leaking since you were born.

Or the name that is carved onto the windowsill. That was a long time ago. It was a different time back then. I was a different Mason back then. Over the years I've tried to convince myself to cover it up, but I can never follow through. Despite how much I hate the way it stares at me in the dead of the night, they once used to be the reason the sun would always rise the next day.

The stuffy air seeming to follow me into my haven, I push open the window inviting the sound of the rustling trees and subtle waves in my room. Taped to the window is the many memories that I have captured in time.

There's me and John B on our third birthday, with obnoxious party hats with even more obnoxious tassels. Birthday badges that are bigger than our heads, and party horns in our mouths. Our eye sparkled with nothing but innocence back then. Those two had no idea what they'd grow to be. I hope they'd be proud if they saw.

There's one from the day I met Kie. My dad took it without us knowing, both of us to busy squealing and flailing away from the lobster we had just caught. It's not my best picture, my hair blowing in every direction as I wore wellingtons that were two sizes too big. I made a life long friend that day.

My favourite photo, against my better judgment, is one taken from the day of the boat race. My friend and I holding onto each like our lives depended on it. The sides of our faces smushed together with a laughable look of discomfort in our eyes at the idea of being forced to take a picture in front of the honourable boatmen.

I've never moved house. I was born in the Château and I'll probably die in the Château. My point is, I know this house inside out. Like, to get the hot water in the shower to have to tap the back of the showerhead three times. Or how if you want to sneak out and not get caught, there a loud floorboard right in front of the door. I never snuck out though so, I wouldn't know, I've just heard about it.

I know this place like the back of my hand, from every corner to every inch. And also every sound. When the all too familiar scream of the door breaks the beckon of silence I wished upon myself, I make my way to my bed. Getting comfy, my legs in a basket, my back pressed against the headboard as I stare out the window with my floppy elephant teddy placed in between my hands.

The patter of feet entre my room. My bed dipping with the newly added weight. The windowsill humming as it's used as a seat. The subtle strumming of my guitar. And the turning of my rusty, swirly, desk chair. They're all here.

I just frown my eyebrows at each of them, refusing to be the first one to talk. I don't know what happened, that's up to them to explain it to me.

"What do you know about Scooter Grubbs?" John B, being the first to speak up, asks.

"His uh- married to Mrs Grubbs?" I guess, but it has proven that I don't know how to read a room either, my joke falling short, "I've had to kick him out of Save-A-Lot a couple of times. He was creeping out Mrs Adams after she caught him shaking the charity boxes."

Letting my serious reply linger in the air, I ask the question that I need to know the answer to, "What happened to Scooter Grubbs?" What I heard couldn't be true, I had just seen him last week, perfectly healthy.

"His body was found in the marsh this morning," Kie whispers, her fingers still gently plucking the strings of my guitar as she refused to look anywhere else.

Shit.

"It was his boat we found this morning, wasn't it?" My words echoing through the silent room. Everyone minds seeming to be running with the news. What do we do?

"It just doesn't make sense. How does a marine rat get a Grady White?" John B throws the question that everyone is thinking out. It's true, Scooter Grubbs was never seen with more than $40 in his pocket and now he's cruising around with a boat cut out for a Kook. It's odd.

"Prostitution," Pope inhales sharply, not missing a beat to voice his opinion. I click my fingers nodding at the boy who is sitting comfortably beside me on the bed, "Or a sugar daddy?" I reason but then grimace at the thought of Grubbs being a sugar baby.

"Square groupers," John B states like its obvious. Turning to Pope who pretends to understand what John B is talking about, I nudge his shoulder, "I liked ours better."

"What does that mean? JJ?" My brother points at the blonde boy who has occupied himself with my jar of shells, inspecting them closely, "Straight smugglin'," he says, placing the jar back in its place, his attention now on the conversation.

"And I guarantee there's a serious amount of contraband in that wreck," John B promises. It makes sense. Who goes out for a boat ride during a hurricane? Someone who knows that there is no aerial surveillance and they could just fly right under the radar. It's a smart plan, but too smart for someone whose smugglin'.

"For the record," Pope starts, pulling out a wad of 100 bills that I can't help but gape at with large eyes. Scooter Grubbs had that kind of money but acted like he was homeless? Each to their own, I guess?

"If that is a smuggling ship, with illegal contraband on the inside of it... It probably belongs to someone else," Pope speaks the truth, waving the money around like its nothing to have this much cash in your hand.

'How much is there?' I thought. Deciding to find out, I snatch the wad from Pope's hand and begin to count it, "I'm glad you're here Pope," I muse, now at $2,000, "You guys have clearly never dealt with smugglers before. They're dirty pigs. Once they find out that..." finishing my counting, I place the notes on my bed, "$10,000 is missing there stash... Sorry to break it to you, but we'll be the prostitutes after that."

The four pairs of eyes on me causes me to shrink back slightly, "What?" I blink, "Did you guys forget about the Komodo Dragons? I can't get caught by smugglers, I'm probably already on a hit list."

"Minor details," Kie chips in, brushing off the hit list comment. "Taking it would be catastrophically stupid," Pope argues, siding with me, not being fond of the idea of being on a smuggler's radar with the way his body shakes at the thought.

"Right. Well, stupid things have good outcomes all the time," speaking of catastrophically stupid, JJ throws his pennies worth on the table, reaching forward for the cash, "All we need to do is figure out a way to get into the cargo hold of that wreck."

I can't believe we're even considering this. Stealing from a man who was just found dead not even a few hours ago. When did we stoop that low?

"Until then, we just lay low," JJ suggests, sitting comfortably against the windowpane with this dirty boats resting on the foot of my bed,  "Just act normal."

Having enough of the discomfort, I shove his feet off my bed and look him straight in the eye, "As normal as we can with a gun, right?" I ask, referring to the firearm that is just casually hanging out his back pocket.

Nodding my head at the boy, "Promise me you'll use it responsibly?" Smiling tightly at JJ as I hold out my pinky. He just laughs out a breath, looking around for any help from the other three in the room. Each just giving him the eye, all agreeing with what I had asked.

I don't think he understands. He has a gun. A firearm. They're dangerous and it's not that I don't trust JJ, it just makes me uncomfortable and scared that one slip up with that thing and JJ's future could be uncertain. All our futures could be on the line if he doesn't handle it like an adult.

Locking his pinky with mine gently, he looks me dead in the eye, straight-faced, "I promise."

Satisfied with this, I nod my head, getting comfortable on my bed again, "Oh, and before I forget," I start, making sure every one of them is paying close attention to what I have to say, "Don't leave me in the dark again. Do not trust me?"

Jumping up at my question, "No. No, it's not that," John B, now sitting in front of me, quickly shooting down my assumptions, "It's just... we know you'd want us to do the right thing," he spills gently as the other three just nod at what the boy said, heads down in thought.

"At least we acknowledge that we're doing the wrong thing," I laugh lightly at the irony of the situation. It's true, I want us to do the right thing. I was hoping that they would report the wreck to the coast guard and we'd get a finder fee. Fair, it wouldn't have been as much as they found in that motel room, but it would have still been more than we had before.

At the word 'we' their eyes snap in my direction and I can't help the small smile that is creeping its way across my face, "Yes, I said we," I confirm, "I'm not letting you guys take all the glory for our downfall.

Little laughs being shared, seeming content with our resolve. Pope is the first to speak up, "So, what do we do?"

Exchanging glances with Kie, both having the same thought in mind, "Kegger!" we cheer with happiness. Sensing no objection against the idea, especially after the conversation we just had.

Besides, what's the worst that could happen?

The Boneyard. Misleading name because as far as I know there are no bones in the Boneyard. I think everyone on the island has heard about the boy who broke his jaw because he fell after attempting to climb the dead trees that litter the beach. It's similar to that story your teacher tells you about the boy who swung on his chair and split his head open.

Keggers at the Boneyard are a summer must. Something about an aluminium keg filled with cheap beer is very appealing when you're under the blazing sun and being swept away with the winds of the waves. Chugging away your worries as you dance with someone who you'll most likely never see again.  

You can't fully understand the Outer Banks without understanding the Boneyard, its like a right of passage. If you're in, you're in, and if you're not, well, see you later.

It's like a three-layered burrito. There are me and my friends, the working class who put their blood, sweat, and tears into this island. There's the trust fund babies, the Kooks, who have never seen a hard days work in their life. Mostly likely just been dropped off in their stepdads range after a tough day at a 5-star boarding school.

Lastly, there are the Tourons. Or airheads, if we're being realistic. They come here for a week's vacation with their families and all of a sudden they claim that they want to spend the rest of their lives in the OBX. They're the chum for the sharks, fresh meat that everyone seems to throw themselves at.

"It's kinda weird when on T.V, we see people die, and they just sitting there," I overhear Pope attempting to flirt with a cute, blonde Touron, "but in actuality, they would be shitting and farting up a storm."

My nose begins to burn with the beer that just shot up it, as I hunch over myself coughing up a lung. The Touron boy who I was just casually talking too before, is now patting me on the back, asking if I'm okay, "I'm fine," I croak, my throat stinging as I swallow the rest of my beer.

"If you'll excuse me," I apologise to the boy, still cough as I speed walk over to my friend who fails to see the look of discomfort that is smeared across the girl's face.

Tapping Pope in the shoulder, interrupt his tangent about unrealistic standards of dying in movies, "Can I steal him for a minute, I'm so sorry," I excuse, as the girl nods her head rapidly, running at the chance to getting out of the conversation with Pope.

"What are you doing?" Pope whines, tugging free his arm from my grip that pulled him away from the blonde girl.

"No offence Pope, but we have to teach you how to flirt," I sympathise at the boy's failed attempt to impress the girl. "What's wrong with my flirting?"

Does he really want me to tell him why talking about people shitting after they die is not the best conversation starter? The boy looked genuinely looked confused, his doe eyes not seeing the picture. It's kinda cute.

"Absolutely nothing Pope," I pat him on the shoulder, not having the heart to tell him, so I won't, but I know someone who must definitely will, "Why don't you go talk to Kie about how great of an Aquarius she is?" I suggest, not giving him time to reply, pushing him in the direction of our friend, who too, just scared of a Touron. Fitting.

Empty cup in hand, I make my way over to the keg. Stepping over those lounging on the cold sand and bumping into those who drunkenly dance with their spirits high. Saying the odd 'Hey' and 'How's it going' here and there to the wasted teens that crowd the beach.

Standing patiently behind the person who is filling up their cup, I look around the beach spotting John B and JJ chugging their beers with a small circle cheering them on. I grin at the sight of JJ smashing his cup on the sand in victory, whilst Kie slaps him on the arm, probably ordering him to pick it up.

Turn back to the keg, I see the person just standing there, raising their cup to their mouth as they gaze out at the ocean. Clearing my throat, hoping they would move out the way, but they didn't. So, I try again. Nothing.  

"Excuse me," I say, now standing beside the figure as I grab the streamer that they refuse to move from blocking. Looking up expectingly at the person, it doesn't surprise me in the slightest who it is. Shaking my head, I keep my attention on my cup.

"Good turn out," Topper comments, still not even glancing in my direction as he observes the beach. 

Frowning, not understand why he is trying to even make conversation with me. I just shake my head, "Yeah," my voice laced with uncertainty, spinning around wanting to get away from the boy.

"Hey Mason," he calls out before I could leave, he attention now on me, "I want you to stay away from Sarah, alright?"

Tilting my head, not understanding why he's asking me this, "What?", but then it hit me, "Oh," I can't help but laugh. Toppers face twisting with irritation, jaw locked, as I try to compose myself after my drink spills on my hand.

"You don't have to worry Topper. I don't swing that way," still giggling as I reassure the boy that I don't want in on his 'territory', "Not fully anyway," I shrug, gulping my drink with raised eyebrows.

"I'm serious, Macy," he huffs, moving closer to me as I take a little step back halting his actions. About to question the boy's intentions, I spot the islands princess clad in a flowy summer dress, climbing onto the washed-up buoy.

"And I'm serious when I say you should probably get your girlfriend before she hurts herself," pointing him in the direction of the girl before waltzing past him, not wanting to be in his presence any longer than I need too.

"What did he want?" JJ asks, not even giving me the chance to sit down first, ahead of him spitting his distaste towards the Kook. "Nothing," I say, sliding in next to him on the dead tree, "Just Topper being Topper," my response being enough to ease his mind as he goes back to his beer.

The first Kegger of the summer was going smoothly. Everybody was having a good time, just drinking and getting to know each other. We had many beer chugging competitions, all of which triggered my acid reflux. We played limbo, which Pope surprisingly was an expert at. We even had a bootleg karaoke machine, where everyone had the pleasure of listening to me sing Céline Dion's 'My Heart Will Go On'.

The warm, long, summer day just as quickly turned to night. The shining sun saying 'Goodbye' as the full moon said 'Hello', illuminating us with its white light. People were calling it a night, exhausted after a day worth of drinking. The others, however, just seemed to come more alive. The magic of the moonlight fuelling their desires to dance all night long.

"Your hair," I giggle as JJ fills up three cups, his hair sticking out in every direction as the cold breeze blows his mane over his forehead, "What's wrong with my hair?"

The alcohol now running wildly through our bloodstream. JJ has had to practically hold me up after nearly falling at least five times in the last two minutes. I don't care. I was having fun with my friends. I'm letting loose. I deserve it. Not sure my dad would be too happy with the underage drinking, but I know he's glad that I'm having fun.

"Can you at least fix it for me?" JJ asks with the gleam of the moon reflecting in his dilated eyes. Nodding, I reach my free hand up, hesitantly, but gently, beginning to brush my fingers through his knotted hair. The blonde seeming to be closer than before, causing my hand to slow to a stop. I can't help but just take a moment to wonder, 'when did his eyes get so blue?'

My cheeks tinting pink at my thoughts. I blink away from his steady eyes that seemed to call for mine like a two magnets call for each other. Hoping he didn't feel the sudden change that I notice lingering in the cool air, I attempt to act normal as I erratically rub my fingers through his locks, making them messy again, before darting off laughing as I hear him call for me, "Get back here, May!"

Swaying, just like the liquids in my cup, I, not so steadily, making my way over to John B, who had found fascination in staring out at the tides. "Johnny B," I squeal, using his body as a shield from JJ.

The blonde had easily caught up to me, pulling me away from behind my brother, he tucks his arms under mine, spinning us around quickly. My legs flying around wildly as my beer splashes onto the sand, "JJ!" I beg, but can't help the rumble of giggles that pass my lips.

Stumbling as my feet are placed gently back on the sand, I watch as JJ snatches the half-empty cup from my hand, "What is in this?" he grins, pulling an unsure face as he takes a whiff of my drink, going to pass it to John B, "Hey bro, your sisters drinking this shit."

Missing my buzz, I try to grab the cup out of his hand. JJ just moves out of my staggering reach, his eyes seeming to be elsewhere, "Oh, wait. Hey, hey. Hey, Sarah!"

What is he doing?

I watch as JJ calls out to the Kook girl who was trying to walk past us, hand-in-hand with her boyfriend. The girl smiles slightly at the obviously drunk boy, "Hi," she greets and continues to walk away.

JJ is very persistent. It's one of his many traits. Now, when you mix his persistence with a bit of alcohol,  you either end up agreeing to things you usually never would, courtesy of his constant need for adventure and thrill. Or he'll push too far, not knowing to stop when it comes to certain people.

"Sarah, can I interest you in a tasty Milwaukee beverage?" he pitches like a salesman, holding the cup like it's a rare and expensive delicacy. When in reality, it’s just a mix of vodka and sprite that some Touron mixed for me.

"No, thanks," she declines politely, not really for a conversation, noticing herself that the boy was drunk. 'That's probably why he was talking to her,' I reason.

Drunk JJ is unpredictable. It can go one of two ways; He's either extremely attached or extremely disattached. He'll either want to hold you or you have to hold him. It's either you crying or him. There is no in-between when it comes to JJ. He's either on one side of the scale or the other. Even when sober, his emotions still run high, but give him a little bit of happy juice and you've just signed up for a foggy night.

"Is it not fancy enough for you?" he asks, now slightly pushing it as John B subconsciously eggs him on with drunken chuckles. I can't help, but just watch, as Sarah reaches back her hand for Topper to take. The boy has just been standing with his chest puffed up at the fellow blonde who is addressing his girlfriend.

"Hey, you know what? I'll take it," Topper suggests, his voice sounding deeper as the stumbles slightly, placing a friendly hand on JJ's shoulder, "Thank you, man. I appreciate it," he slurs, trying to grab the cup from JJ's hand.

"That's nice of you, Topper, but I didn't ask you," he points out laughing, moving the drink from Toppers reach as he points at him accusingly, "If you said pretty please, maybe?" he pretends like such simple words would change his mind.

"Oh, pretty please?" Topper laughs along, his jaw clenching at the joke.

I can tell Topper is drunk. Topper's a weird drunk. Kinda like JJ, but also completely the opposite. When Topper drinks he gets angry at everything, thinking that everyone wants to pick a fight with him. I don't know if its a guy thing? but it's definitely a Topper thing. He can't handle alcohol, I've told him this before. His emotions won't allow him to just drink and that's it. He always has something to prove when he's drunk, and it frankly ticks me off.

"Sarah," JJ tries again, holding the drink out for the girl to take, "You can have it," completely ignoring her red-faced boyfriend. It’s no surprise that JJ is proud of himself, he struck a nerve in Topper. Pissing off Kooks is what he was born to do and frankly, he does it well.

I've never told JJ this, but Kooks are scared of him. It easy to see. Every fight JJ has had, I've always had to clean up the mess. He always jokes that 'you should see the other guy', but I don't have to. JJ can hold his own and is willing to throw it down anywhere if anyone disrespects him or the people he cares about. They're always unfair though, 4 on 1, 6 on 1, it doesn't matter, because JJ always wins in the end, despite coming out looking the worst sometimes.

Right now Topper is the perfect example of that. Having enough of JJ's persistence, he shoves the cup back making me gasp was the cold liquids splash over my shirt and sticks to my hair. That was enough for JJ. Clenching his fist tightly on the front of Topper shirt, lifting him off the ground slightly with clouded eyes and a set jaw.

John B, Sarah, and I were all watching the scene unfold between the two blondes, being quick to jump in when it gets physical. Placing a firm hand on JJ's shoulder I push him back with John B, who blocks his vision from Topper, who too, is being dragged away by Sarah.

"You're so funny, man" JJ shouts over to Topper. John B trying to calm him down, snapping him out of it.

The tide had made its way closer to land, meaning we're all in close quarters with each other, all seated at the same part of the beach. It was no surprise when the small inconvenience caught the eyes of the party-goers. Pope is one of them, as he quickly rushes over to his friends.

"Diry Pogues!" Topper insults, breaking free from Sarah's grip, just to spit in our faces. John B wastes no time, shoving him harshly away from us, earning more attention.

I didn't see it coming, and I assume neither did John B. Topper marches his way over to my brother, swinging his fist at his face. 

Choking on the cold breeze, I go running for my brother who fell into the waves at the force. Pope being busy holding back the thrashing JJ, Kie quickly jumps in, wrapping her arms around me tightly from behind, stopping me from moving closer.

"We're supposed to be incognito, remember?" I think that plan went straight out the window when we decided to have a kegger and openly allowed our sworn enemies to join. There is nothing incognito about anything that is happening right now.

'Fight!'

I wriggle in Kie's arms as I helplessly watch Topper kick John B in the gut, pushing him into the ice-cold water again.

'Fight!'

The crowd around us seems to be getting bigger and bigger. My ears ringing at the excessive chanting.

'Fight!'

John B tumbles around the waves, trying to get up to his feet again, but Topper won't let him. Kicking him again whilst he's still down.

"Hey, John B, don't make me drown you like your old man, alright?"

'Fight!'

Call it blind rage or whatever the hell you want, but I cannot describe to you the way that Topper's words stopped my heart. It felt like I was stabbed. My constant thrashing caused Kie's arms to give in with tiredness.

Maniacally, my wild eyes search the mob as a preditor would their prey. I spot it, grasped between the fingers of a stranger. Pulling the bottle harshly from their hands, my breathing becoming erratic as I stumble my way down to the oceanfront. My sight set on my target.

"Mason!"

"No! Macy stop,"

"May!"

The calling of my name went in one ear and out the other. The only sound I could hear was the smashing of the bottle as it collided with Topper's head. The beach seemed to fall into silence. For a moment all I could hear was my blooding pumping through my veins. I can feel my heart in my throat.

I feel frozen in time. Unable to move as I watch the shards of glass dance under the yellow moonlight. The water rushing past my ankles. My feet sinking into the wet sand. My breath is uneven. The sharp bottle top that I was clutching tightly, slips through my fingers, getting washed away by the tide.

Topper, after a few seconds of blank staring, feels the crown of his head. Turning around, fingers stained red. His dead, black eyes piercing into mine, filled with unwavering bewilderment.

I want to blame the alcohol, or the cold, for the way my knees are chittering, but after seeing my brother get punched, I became stone-cold sober. I refuse to blink, not wanting to look away from the boy that is making his way slowly over to me.

My voice seems to be gone, holding my hands out pathetically, not wanting him to come any closer. My cheeks flushed red at the cold whipping winds. My eyes stinging with moisture as I wait for him to react.

The crashing of the waves and the chanting of the crowd become audible to my ears again. My face being pushed into someone's chest, pulling me away before John B could tackle a distracted Topper to the ground.

Fists smashing with flesh. Grunts, groans, and drunken cheers polluting the air. It was too much.

My lungs struggling to grasp a sliver of air, all in a state of panic. My ear pressed firmly against the person's chest, listening to the drumming of their heartbeat. My hands tucked tightly around the fabric of their shirt, just wanting to feel something.

My vision blurred as I watch Topper push my brothers face into the water, "He's drowning him," I swallow the lump in my throat, whispering in horror, watching my twin thrash around helplessly. It doesn't feel real.

A shiver dances it way up my spine, barely registering that it was JJ that was holding me before he passes my quivering figure over to an accepting Kie.

"Yeah, you know what that is," I hear JJ say, but I had enough for the night. Hiding my face in the crook of Kie's neck, forcing my eyes shut, not wanting to see anymore. But I didn't have to see it. I heard it. The gentle click of the safety seemed to echo across the silent beach, "Your move, broski."

'He's got a gun.'

The sound of pounding footsteps falls into rhythm with my erratic heartbeat. I could hear the blood rushing to my ears. My whole body feels like its on fire. My chest feels like it's going to explode. I can't breathe.

'Don't make me drown you like your old man.'

Something's wrong with me.

I can feel it welling up inside me.

It won't go away.

I didn't realise I was standing on my own again until my knees gave in. My head pounding on beat with the gunshots.

"John B!"

"May!"

Chapter Four: FIN!

A bit of a long chapeter, but I didn’t want to split it.

This was fun to write. Clearly Mason has some insecurities when it comes to being left out, or thinking that people don’t trust her. And this with be explored the further we go. There is a reason behind this fear.

I really struggled to write the fight scene, but I hope I got the general point across.

What did you think?

The next chapter will be the end of episode one. I feel like I’ve been writing for ages, but we still have another 9 episodes to go...

I hope you enjoyed that chapter <3

Also. if anyone would like to be tagged in future chapters just let me know and I will for sure do that!

*TAGLIST*

@xshinytrashcanx​ @prejudic3​ @annoylinglyaries​ @obxlife​ @bananasfromtarget​

#outer banks #outer banks imagines #outer banks au #outer banks series #obx #john b routledge #John B imagines #jj maybank #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader #Kiara Carrera #Kiara Carrera imagines #Kiara Carrera x reader #pope heyward #pope heyward imagines #pope heyward x reader #Sarah cameron #Sarah Cameron imagines #Sarah Cameron x reader #rafe cameron #Rafe Cameron imagines #Rafe Cameron x reader #topper #topper imagnies #topper x reader #outer banks fanfiction #writeblr #epiphany series #fanfiction

[radiosteve]

Need Your Loving Tonight Ch. 16

Summary: With the band going away on tour, a rush of feelings floods you. Will they change when the band returns?

Note: Not sure how I feel about this chapter but enjoy! As always, the italicized part is the reader’s thoughts. The photo is one that I found on google. I do not own any rights to it. If you want to be added to the taglist send me a message or an ask and I’ll add you!  

Warnings: Anxiety

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader, John Deacon x Reader

Words: 3.6k+

 March 1, 1974

The months weaved on, swirling through continuous patterns and daily routines as the days grew longer. The fabric of your sweater clung to your skin as you walked down the street, heading towards the bank that you were employed at. A cool breeze rushed through the air, dragging your hair away from your neck, leaving it chilled and exposed. You quickly tugged your hair back down, covering the deep purple spots the lined the side of your skin. John called them a ‘going away present’ the night before, leaving you in a moaning mess as he softly sucked against your skin. When you woke up this morning he was gone and on his way to Blackpool. 

 The start of the Queen II tour made a part of you feel empty while the other only felt pure joy. You were so happy to see them going off around Europe, finally picking up some traction and loyal fans. But on the other hand, you missed the old days when you stood backstage for every show and kept the boys in check. Everything seemed so different and for some reason you began to hate the concept of change. 

 You burst through the bank doors, still a little peeved from your thoughts on your walk to work, feeling the eyes of your coworkers and customers staring down upon you. With a polite smile, you rushed back behind the counter into the breakroom, throwing down your bag and fixing your hair once more.

 “Rough night?” you heard a voice over your shoulder, turning to look at the person standing in the doorway.

“Not completely,” you pushed the hair back from your neck, revealing the hickies that bruised across your skin.

 “Really? You get shagged and still come in here all angry and what not?” she held back a giggle as she sat down on the lunch table in front of you.

 “Sorry Carol, I don’t make the rules,” you smirked at her as she playfully shook her head. Carol had been your best work friend since you started at the bank after graduation. She had been the one to train you, to show you how to cut corners when needed, and what to do on a slow day. Besides Sally and the boys, Carol was one of your closest friends. 

 “How is John? Are the boys nervous about the tour and album release?” she asked while playing with a loose button on her sweater. 

 “I can’t tell. I mean, I’m sure that he is, but he won’t talk to me about it. It’s like he’s trying to spare me from his feelings,” you responded, fishing through your bag for lip balm, feeling the surface of your lips grow more chapped by the second.

 “Maybe he’s embarrassed about being nervous and that’s why he won’t say anything,” Carol said, pulling her attention away from the button. Her gaze focused on you, eyes staring deep into yours, making goosebumps rise all over your skin. “But everything else is good, right? I don’t want to hear that my favorite couple is breaking up,” Carol’s words sounded genuine, as if she was actually worried about some issue in your relationship with John. You nodded, finally grabbing hold of the lip balm in your purse, before applying it and pinning your nametag to the front of your sweater. 

 “Everything is fine between us. He’s just going on tour. But we’ll be ok. I’m sure of it,” you shoved everything back into your purse, fixed your hair and went to the doorway. You turned back looking at Carol one more time. “Why do you ask?”

 “I don’t know. I had this dream last night that something happened between you two and when I woke up, I just couldn’t shake it,” she shuddered lightly, getting up from the table, but still standing across the room from you.

 “Everything is fine, I promise,” you flashed Carol a bright smile before walking out behind the front desk to greet the customers. Everything is fine.

 May 16, 1974

 You’d just gotten back from a long day at work, waiting for the weekend to finally bring itself around. You had plans to meet up with the boys tomorrow after work and watch them perform. Just the idea of spending time with all of them again made you feel fluttery inside. Not that you didn’t still see them, but everything was different when they were away on tour. You felt lonelier, relying heavily on Sally and Carol to drag you out of your flat on the weekends. Ever since Queen went on tour, you’d grown used to the feeling of emptiness that filled your seemingly hollow heart. Your trek upstairs in your building droned on, feeling the weight of the week dragging you down. By the time you reached your floor, you simply wanted to collapse into a heap on the ground. 

 You tried to unlock the door to your apartment, only to find that it was already open. With a heavy sigh, you threw the door open, fumbling around for the light switch on the wall. Filled with annoyance and a little rage, you tossed your bags to the ground after finally flicking on the light. Sally’s bedroom door opened, and she stumbled out into the living room. A look of worry masked her face causing you to fret. One thing that you never understood about Sally is how she is so ridiculously laidback. She’s so calm and collected all the time. Never stressing about anything. Even when she was a student, Sally never once panicked before a presentation or exam. So, when Sally walked out, expression dripping with concern, your heart began to pound deeply in your chest.

 “What? What is it, Sal?” the words fell from your lips but the panic that was arising within you made them sound far off and distant. Sally sat down on the sofa slowly, as if trying to find the words to say.

 “John called. Something happened with Brian. He’s ill. Really ill. So ill that they’re canceling the rest of the tour,” Sally huffed out, her face scrunched up like she was in pain.

 “Oh no. That’s awful,” your body slumped down next to hers on the couch. “Will he recover? Do they know what it is?” as the questions poured from your lips you could feel your body begin to shake. One of your best friends was sick and you felt like there was nothing that you could do to help. 

 “He should recover, they don’t know how long it will take though. He’s contracted Hepatitis,” Sally’s face looked a little less grave, as if telling you about Brian made her feel a bit better.

 “That’s terrible,” you mumbled, lost in thought as you mulled over Sally’s words in combination with yours.

 “On the positive side of things, the boys will be back by tomorrow and you can stop moping around like a lost puppy,” Sally laughed lightly, looking over at you as your shoulders loosened. 

 “I do not mope,” you hunched forward, crossing your arms across your chest as your expression turned sour.

 “Oh, you definitely do. Next time they go on tour I’ll make sure to get someone to follow you around with a video camera to capture all of your sulking,” you flashed Sally a silly face before standing up to grab your bags from the ground near the door. You went into your room, dead set on changing your clothes before starting to make dinner. I get to see the boys tomorrow. And John can stay the night like always. And Freddie can tell me all of his crazy concert stories. And Brian can explain how he was so reckless that he contracted and STD. And Roger can… who knows what Roger can do.

 May 17, 1974

 Rounding the corner to the hospital, you spotted the cute little flower shop you loved that always smelled like lavender. It was filled to the brim with gardening supplies, plant seeds, flowerpots, and of course, flowers. You entered, stopping by the stand that held a row of beautifully arranged bouquets. After a minute or two of examination, you finally plucked two large arrangements of daisies, roses, baby’s breath and carnations and headed towards the counter. The old woman standing next to the cash register looked ever so pleased to see you.

 “It’s been a bit since I’ve seen you last,” she spoke smoothly, in a gentle way that made you feel warm inside. 

 “Yeah, it has been a while. My boyfriend has been out of town, so I haven’t had much of a reason to come buy flowers,” the old woman nodded as you spoke, her lips tight in a smile.

 “Who’s the second one for? If you don’t mind me asking,” her soft tone made you feel like you could tell this woman all of your secrets. 

 “The other bouquet is for my friend. He’s in the hospital,” you gave her a soft smile before handing her the money for the flowers.

 “Oh, I see. You had me worried that some other man had grabbed your attention,” she flashed you a polite smile before handing you the bouquets and your receipt. You felt taken aback by the woman’s assumption, feeling dread fill your bones. Do I seem like someone that would cheat on their boyfriend? Has someone else captured my attention? You said a quick goodbye to the woman and rushed towards the front door, desperately gaping for fresh air to rid your head of such ugly thoughts.    

 Throughout the rest of your walk to the hospital, you took every action possible to calm yourself down. The old woman’s sentiments had really shaken you up and your worry was growing worse with each step. In a gasp of air, you turned to sit on a small wooden bench. Its legs were surrounded by green, leafy weeds and bright dandelions. Trying to get back to reality, you took it upon yourself to survey your surroundings, taking deep breaths as you did so. 

 The sun was a bright yellow ball in the sky, shining strongly on your bare arms. You absorbed its warmth with every inhale, letting its rays heat your delicate skin. The street in front of you was covered in streaks from hasty breaking and faulty tires. The incessant honking from the road just around the corner you helped keep you grounded. The grass touched your shoes, tickling the sides as they brushed past each blade. Your leg bounced slightly, shaking the wood underneath you as it did. The smell of concrete and grass filled your nostrils, somehow calming you by the second. You’d never been so filled with anxiety before, but as of late it seems to be the only emotion that ruled your head. 

 Finally calmed down to the point where you felt like you could keep going, you stood up and brushed off the back of your pants. The wood splinters flew from the material, as you clutched to two bouquets in your other hand. The hospital was in sight and a sense of relief overtook you as you approached. The idea of seeing Brian, no matter what condition he was in, made your worrisome thoughts clear. And the knowledge that John was close by made your heart pound and your palms grow sweaty. The hospital door slid open and the scent of latex and soap filled your nose with each sniff. You gripped the flowers in your hand even tighter before walking up to the front desk. 

 “Hello, I’m here to visit Brian May,” your voice was timid as the middle-aged woman at the desk stared back at you. Her hair was just starting to gray at the roots, and her eyes had small wrinkles beside them. She was nursing a cup of coffee when you approached but had since set it down next to a cup of pens and pencils that sat upon her desk. 

 “And what is your relation to Mr. May?” she asked, picking up a clipboard from a small basket in front of her. She began scribbling on the sheet as you told her all of your information. After she finally completed your forms, stuck a nametag across your chest and told you where to go, you headed off. The intensely lit hallway tickled your irises as you walked along towards Brian’s room. You could hear the faint sound of a television floating throughout the corridor as you stood before Brian’ door. Other than the echo of tv, you couldn’t hear anything from inside Brian’s room, making you second guess the woman’s directions. With a light tap on the door, you heard a strangled welcome and opened the door. Inside sat Brian, propped up against three pillows with a small smile growing over his face. 

 “Y/n,” he called out weakly, his expression pained but still radiating excitement. He tried to sit up but winced before he could move fully. You rushed to his side, moving the pillows behind him to support his back as he looked at you. “Finally returning the favor for all those times I had to take care of you after a night out in uni,” Brian chuckled, grabbing your free hand.

 “I was never bad enough to go to the hospital. You beat me to that one,” you muttered as a smile graced itself upon your face. You both sat still for a little, just being comforted by each other’s presence. “Oh, I almost forgot,” you let go of Brian’s hand, replacing your soft fingers in his grasp with one of the bouquets. “I know you think it’s a little cheesy, but I brought you some flowers,” Brian smiled at you once more, bringing the bouquet to his nose and inhaling deeply.

 “They’re wonderful, Y/n. Thank you,” he slowly moved up, pulling you into a loose hug before leaning back and pressing a button on his bed to hail the nurse. She came in a minute later, looking down to Brian. He asked her for a vase for the flowers and a cool glass of water. “I really appreciate you coming to visit me,” Brian’s words were soft as he looked towards you once again. “But I know that I’m not the only one you intended to run into today,” he nodded down at the other bouquet resting on your lap. 

 “That’s ridiculous. You are my first and only priority until you fully recover,” your eyebrows knitted together as you spoke. 

 “Yeah, yeah,” Brian waved his hand sarcastically. “John is downstairs in the cafe with Freddie and Rog,” he nodded towards the door, signaling for you to go. You hugged him once more before standing up and pacing over to the door. With a quick glance back, you pulled on the handle and walked back into the gleaming hallway, blinded by the overhead lights. Your trek down to the cafe was short. The excitement of seeing John, Roger, and Freddie dragging your feet faster than normal down the stairs.

 Your feet stopped just outside the large glass window that separated the cafe from the rest of the hospital. Your eyes trailed over the mostly empty room, landing on the three boys crowded around a small, white circular table. They hadn’t seen you yet, even as you walked over to the large door and swung it open. 

 “John,” you called, and although your voice was quiet, you still saw John’s head perk up from behind Freddie. He glanced around the room, trying to gauge where the call of his name came from. John looked straight at you as you rushed towards him with a giant smile spanning from ear to ear. He stood up, throwing his chair back and startling his bandmates in the process, and ran the rest of the way towards you. His arms embraced you so tightly that you felt all the air leave your lungs. He picked your feet slightly off the ground, before placing you back down. And despite the screeching from your body as it begged for air, you couldn’t let go. The tour hadn’t been that long, and you’d managed to see John every few weeks, but being here with him now felt so real. Much more so than anytime that you met him backstage or in his hotel room. 

 “I missed you so much,” John pulled you even closer, surely making a scene in the middle of the cafe. You could even hear Freddie snickering about the two of you from his seat a few feet away. But you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered right now was the way John held you tightly in his arms.

 “I missed you too,” you squeaked, rubbing your free hand up and down John’s back. “And I love you so much,” you added as John pulled away to look at your face. His hands cupped your cheeks before he placed a gentle kiss upon your lips. His lips turned from pursed to a smile, seemingly mesmerized by you with every passing second. 

 “Gross,” you heard a voice from behind you. Turning around, you came face to face with Roger, his lips crinkled into a small smirk. “We go on tour for a month and a half and she ignores us for her boyfriend,” Roger jokingly taunted, elbowing Freddie who had come to stand next to him.

 “You know I missed you guys too,” you pulled Freddie in for a hug and he planted a large kiss on your forehead. After letting go, Roger wrapped his arms around you tightly, squeezing you playfully before he let you go.

 “What? Johnny boy gets a kiss, but we don’t?” Roger joked, earning a chuckle from his bandmates as you pushed him lightly.

 “Shit,” you quickly pulled up the now mostly crushed bouquet of flowers for John to see. “These were for you,” you handed it to him, and he chuckled lightly.

 “They’re still beautiful. Thank you, Y/n,” he kissed the top of your head before grabbing your hand down by your side. The four of you agreed to go back upstairs and check on Brian. The boys flooded you with crazy tour stories, describing every detail of the shows that you missed. The four of you rounded the corner to Brian’s room only to be stopped by his nurse.

 “Only three visitors at a time please,” she said, scanning the four faces in front of her before walking off down the hallway.

 “That’s a stupid rule,” Roger mumbled under his breath as he watched her disappear around the corner. 

 “That’s alright. I have to go to the bathroom anyway. You guys just head in there and we can switch out or something when we get back,” you reassured them, and they all nodded. “Just one thing,” you added before they all stepped in through the door. “Just one more thing. Where is the bathroom?” 

 “I found it earlier. I’ll take you,” Roger said, moving back from the door and more so towards you. He placed his hand on your back to guide you down the long corridor as his boots squeaked against the tile with every step. 

 “The tour sounded really fun,” you looked up towards Roger as he continued to lead you down the hallway. 

 “Yeah, it was. Would have been more fun with you there though,” he had a shy smile on his face as he spoke. His cheeks flushed slightly despite his efforts to prevent it and you noticed. 

 “Aw, Roger Taylor missed me,” you teased, reaching up to pinch his cheeks as you now walked up a flight of stairs leading to the third floor. 

 “Yeah, yeah. I always miss you when you’re not around,” he muttered, feeling a little less confident than normal. 

 “That’s very sweet, Roger,” you smiled at him as you finally approached the bathroom. The two of you stopped in front of the door and you turned to face him. “I hope you know that I missed you too,” you spoke quietly, avoiding his gaze.

 “I wouldn’t expect anything less, love,” he said bashfully, tearing his gaze from the floor as he nodded. You walked into the bathroom with a wide smile on your face. It wasn’t until you caught sight of said smile in the mirror that the familiar hollow pit of guilt opened up in your stomach once more. It was a feeling that you’d been trying to push away, but also one that slowly kept creeping back in. 

 You loved John; you knew that for sure. Whether it was the way he made everything feel right with just a giggle or a closed-lipped smile. Or how his hands fit always perfectly with yours as you interlocked them, feeling his fingers brushed against the back of your hand as you both held them close. Everything about John made sense. You loved him. You were in love with him. You were positive of that.

 But then there was Roger. He made you blush and feel shy like a little kid. He teased and taunted you, and some part of you always craved it. It was so different from anything you’d ever known before. Something about him drew you in. Whether it was lingering feelings or just a dumb crush, you couldn’t shake the feeling that burned quietly in your heart when you were near him. You were troubled and confused, staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror with your palms pressed against the counter. 

 You were in love with John, but maybe you were in love with Roger too. 

 Taglist: @retromusicsalad @bohemiansweede @deaconsroger @queen-crue @ohtheseboysilove @queeniesteiins @kemeryyyy @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ixchel-9275 @rogmeddows @ziggymay @deakysmisfire @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives @briarrose26 @greatdinosaursalad @queendeakyy @killer-qu33n-of-disaster

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[teannamon]

The Black Cat and the Princess (ML Fic) 2

[ Family Switch AU ]  Marinette’s the only child of fashion icon Gabriel Agreste, and Adrien is the adopted child of Sabine and Tom Dupain-Cheng, two of the best bakers in Paris. What happens when their paths meet? 

  ↫ Chapter 1

Marinette trips. Chloe shows off her very talented and famous friend. Misunderstandings ensue. Adrien gets an unexpected gift after class.

Marinette nervously fidgeted with her skirt as her father took a look at her outfit. He asked her to see him before leaving to make sure that she’s dressed appropriately, aka make sure she’s representing his brand properly.

“I believe you’re well-dressed enough to leave. Is that skirt another one of your creations?” he asked while gesturing to the skirt patterned with butterflies made from lace at its hem. She nodded in response.

“Good work, is that for personal or do you plan on adding it to another collection?”

She shook her head, “I don’t plan on making any collections anytime soon since I want to focus on school first, Father”.

Gabriel sighed and muttered “What a shame, at least when you were homeschooled you had a laidback schedule”.

As soon as she heard it, she huffed in annoyance, ‘I can’t believe he’s still at it, it’s already a week since I enrolled’.

Her father stood up, “I’ll see you out”.

With that she followed suit while putting her bag back on. He only saw her out til the front door and quickly said their goodbyes. Her driver/bodyguard is already waiting inside the car and Nathalie opened the car door for her.

She thanked the woman as both of them entered the car. Marinette is nervous to say the least, sure she’s always wanted to attend a public school but she has no idea what studying with other people would be or how she should act, and adding the fact that she’s actually a ditzy klutz in her everyday life only adds more to her anxiety.

“Marinette,” Nathalie started which shook Marinette from her thoughts and looked at the woman beside her.

“Y-yes?”

“For your lunch breaks, please inform me where you’ll be and who your companions are. It’s for precaution your father insisted”

Once again, she huffed in annoyance before muttering a ‘fine’ as a more than sufficient reply. The rest of the drive to the school is eerily quiet.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

“Well you’re up very early, Adrien” Sabine noted with a chuckle as she got up to their kitchen to see her son, already stuffing his face with croissants looking ready to go. He swallows the last one and gets up from the counter.

“Morning mom,” he kissed her cheek “I’ll be walking with Alya and Nino so I needed to be early”

Sabine smiled at his enthusiasm as he left for downstairs, “Don’t forget the box on your way down”

“I won’t, thanks!”

Adrien skipped down the stairs as he opened the door into the bakery to see Tom already fixing the pastries on display. “Morning dad,” he greeted

“Oh, good morning, son. I have two boxes prepared for you just in case” he placed an arm around his son and handed him a paper bag with, indeed two boxes of their special macaroons. Adrien smiled and hugged the huge man, “Thanks dad, you’re the best”

He turned to leave with a goodbye and headed for the park a few blocks away.

Nino was already waiting with his phone out, ‘Probably playing Super Penguino again’ Adrien thought as he crossed the road.

His DJ friend didn’t seem to notice him so he tapped furiously on his phone and Nino looked up, “Hey! I was about to beat my hi-score!” he yelled at the blonde culprit who just laughed.

“If anything, I actually helped” he teased. Nino was about to retort back but was quickly trapped in a tight hug by his girlfriend who came sprinting around the corner.

“Ready to go, boys?” Alya asked as Nino pried himself off her breathtaking (literally) hug. He wheezed and gave a thumbs up.

The trio walked towards their school while chatting when suddenly Alya shrieked. The two guys looked at her in confusion and surprise when Alya practically shoved her phone in their faces.

“Care to explain what we should be looking at?” Adrien questioned while straining his eyes to look at Alya’s screen just a few inches off his face.

She pulled back her phone and composed her initial freak-out mode that happens when something amazing or major comes up. Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Ok,” she started “remember the mysteriously mysterious super famous new person attending Lycée with us that Chloe tweeted like last week?”

The boys nodded.

“And?”

“Well, it turns out that this the mysteriously mysterious super famous new person attending Lycée with us is Marinette! Aaaahh!” Alya shrieked again.

“Woah! Seriously!” Nino looked at the tweet Chloe just posted. A selfie of Chloe with her arms around a nervously smiling blunette near the entrance of their school.

“Who?” their blonde companion looked at the picture and the couple audibly gasped at him in disbelief like he just popped a second head.

“I can’t believe you don’t know her, she’s like the cutest fashion idol. Made her own collection at the age of 12, not to mention she’s the only daughter of Gabriel Agreste and- Oh my God! I should have worn her Ladybug Collection blouse for today if I had known, Ughhh!”

“Alya chiiill~” her boyfriend assured, “you look good already if I must say so myself”

Alya laughed and composed herself one more time, “You’re just biased cause I’m your girlfriend” and Nino shrugged.

‘She seems like an interesting person; I hope we have some classes together’ Adrien happily thought as the trio continued their walk with Alya practicing how to say hi to the blunette should she see her at school.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

Before Marinette could even reach the entrance, she heard the familiar voice of her only friend outside of the industry. Although, they did meet because of connections she didn’t see their relationship as something due to connections and obligations she has to fulfil.

“Mariiiiii~” Chloe approached her with Jean behind her, umbrella in hand. Marinette returned her affections by kissing her on both cheeks.

“Hi Chloe, thanks again for the scholarship idea I probably wouldn’t have been able to convince my dad otherwise”

“Oh puh-lease, it was nothing if it meant getting out of that jail you call mansion. No offense” she remarked to which Marinette laughed, “None taken”

Chloe fished out her phone from her purse and excitedly draped an arm around the blunette. Marinette nervously smiled at the camera, knowing all too well what Chloe is doing.

Click!

“We look so cute together” Chloe gushed at the picture and her eyes trailed down to her skirt, “that skirt is fabulous, do I smell an upcoming collection?” she asked as she took a full body picture of Marinette in all her fashion glory.

“Oh this? It’s nothing I don’t plan on starting a new project soon”

Chloe pouted, still occupied with posting the photos on all her socials “What a shame, we could’ve been wearing matching designs for the whole school year to show off”

“Go on, Marinette, your first class starts at 8. You don’t want to be late” Nathalie informed her as she placed a shoulder on the girl and handed out her bag. Marinette reached for her bag and thanked Nathalie as Chloe practically dragged her towards the school.

“So, Mari, let me see your sched” Chloe asked as they walked in the middle of the courtyard and Mari stood there for a minute before realizing what she meant.

“O-oh yeah, sched, the schedule. Hold on, I think Nathalie added it to my tablet” she opened her bag to pull out said device and opened up her schedule for her friend to look at. Chloe scrunched her nose up obviously displeased at her schedule.

“How is it that we don’t have any classes together but PE? It’s like the universe is asking me to stay away from you. Ugh, this is utterly ridiculous,” she grumbled before turning back to Marinette “but no worries, your BFF, Chloe Bourgeois is here to make sure you don’t fail at anything”

“Uh, thanks, I guess?”

Just then, they heard shrieking from behind them. Both girls turned around to see a brunette girl looking their way being shushed by two guys.

“Alya! Shush, everyone’s looking at us now” the dark-haired one said in a harsh whisper.

“I can’t believe it; it really is her. Nino, please tell me I’m not dreaming” the girl grabbed the boy by the collar and shook him while still keeping their eyes on Marinette’s direction. The boy can’t formulate proper sentences as he’s shaken back and forth mercilessly.

“Time to go Mari,” Chloe grabbed her wrist as they walked up the stairs towards the classrooms. Chloe stops by the door next to the stairs.

“My class is here; your room is 3 doors over. See you later for lunch Mari” the blonde girl waved as she entered the door.

The young fashion designer finally reached her room and was about to open the door when someone opened to which she instinctively stepped back.

To her misfortune she tripped on someone’s foot behind her and stumbled down with them bags and some miscellaneous items sent toppled over her. Her butt expected to land on the cold hard floor but instead found herself on top of someone’s lap.

“A-are you ok, miss?” the person she’s currently on top of asked. Marinette turned her head towards the person to see one of the guys from earlier.

“Y-yeah, I guess…” she managed to say as she got off his lap momentarily and reached for her fallen bag.

“Oh no! The macaroons!” the blonde panicked as he started picking up the pastries around them and placing them in the open box now on the floor. In a blind panic he’s not aware of where he’s picking them off from.

Between her skirt and her legs is where most of them landed and she can feel the guy’s touch in the most inappropriate of places. He’s about to reach for one that somehow landed on top of the opening of her blouse when she swatted his hand, stood up and let the macaroon fall.

Marinette was reduced to a blushing mess while covering her chest with her hand and the other one holding her bag in front of her legs as she looked down the guy with anger. She couldn’t find the words to say at the moment, so she just huffed and entered the room in a dash.

Adrien was left there dumbfounded wondering what just happened when suddenly something in his brain clicked. He was mortified by his actions and he feels so ashamed.

‘Oh no, she’s a famous person right. Holy shit, she’s going to report me for sexual harassment’ he screamed internally pulling at his hairs.

“Yo Adrien, what happened?” Nino ran towards his friend and helped him get up with his things too. The DJ took this opportunity to pop some macaroons into his mouth while picking them up from the floor, its not like people would like from-the-floor macaroons he thought to himself.

The blonde stayed quiet, still internally screaming and having an existential crisis with himself. ‘Ok, as long as I don’t see her for the rest of the day. She won’t remember my face or what happened right?’

He let that thought calm him down, but it did not last long when he met eyes with her once again inside the classroom. ‘I spoke too soon, dammit’

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU!”

“Alya, keep it down. Please” Adrien pleaded at his journalist friend who just stood up and pointed an accusatory finger at him. People at the café were throwing confused and annoyed glances at their table.

Nino arrived with their drinks a moment later before sitting back down. “Hey, if you don’t keep it down we’ll be kicked out before you know it”

Adrien sighed, “That’s what I’ve been telling her y’know”

“I don’t want to be associated with someone named Adrien Dupain-Cheng anymore” Alya huffed as she avoided looking at her blonde friend while reaching for her drink.

The guy in question pinched the bridge of his nose with an exasperated sigh, “It was an accident and I panicked ok. It’s not like I wanted to ghost my hand over her body” he tiredly explained.

“Also, is it good or bad luck that she’s your classmate in every one of your subjects?” Nino pointed out.

“Ugh don’t remind me. I think I would’ve died if looks could kill” Adrien shuddered at how she always sat at the back and he can feel her eyes stabbing him from behind. Physics was even harder because he was forced to look back at her when passing the worksheet and it felt like her eyes bore through his soul.

Alya stayed quiet. Adrien knows that she really wanted to talk to the fashion designer but if she’s see with him she might not be able to- quote unquote -for the rest of her life.

“Look, I’ll apologize and give in a good word to her for you will that be ok?” he looked at the brunette expectantly.

“That goes without saying pretty boy, you should apologize with or without me pouting here” she said as a matter-of-factly and Nino nodded while sipping his drink.

Meanwhile, in another table.

“So, there was this this blue-haired girl in my Physics class named Kagami and she’s like so pompous and shit. I mean she is smart, but you don’t need to rub it in EVERY SINGLE TIME” Chloe vented to the blunette on the other side of the table with exaggerated hand gestures.

Marinette listened to Chloe’s ‘first day vents’ as the blonde called it, she never knew that listening to someone vent was fun and like a breath of fresh air. She never was someone who openly let out all her rage through words and always kept it in because it’s what she’s taught; that whenever in a corporate situation where something infuriates you, you breathe in and don’t lose your composure or else everyone will.

“-nette? Marinette?”

“Huh? Did you say something, Chloe?” she snapped back to their conversation.

“I was asking how your classes was so far” her companion repeated.

“Well…” her mind went back to the tripping incident this morning and how she basically glared at the guy whenever she had the chance waiting for an apology. How lucky is it though that he was in every one of her classes so far?

“…it was a somewhat exciting, it was mostly getting to know and a lot of people were surprised to see I was there to say the least” she answered, leaving out the embarrassing highlight of her day so far.

“That’s to be expected, you are a famous designer among teenagers and we’re, well, surrounded by teenagers at school” Chloe chuckled as she gestured around her, then her phone chimed right after.

“Should we go?” she asked as she slung her bag on her shoulder. Marinette looked at the time, “Isn’t it a bit early?”

“Yeah, but I have an early elective subject and it looks like its gonna rain later. I’d much prefer if the ground wasn’t wet when I’m out and about”

She looked up and the sky does look like its about to rain.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

“It was a bit exhausting but it’s nothing I could handle” Marinette told her father through the phone. As soon as her last class ended, he called like he knew precisely what time she’s free.

“The Gorilla is on his way, there was a slight traffic cause of the sudden rain so just wait for a couple of minutes”

“Alright, alright. Bye”

She decided to wait by the door when she was approached by a familiar face. From the class introductions she learned his name was Adrien Dupain-Cheng. As usual she glared at him, waiting for an apology.

“I’m really sorry for what happened,” he started to say as he looked down “Those pastries were prepared by my parents to share to my classmates, so I panicked and acted without thinking. They took some time of their busy day to cater my request so I just prioritized salvaging what I can of their hard work”

Now Marinette felt guilty for glaring at him throughout the day. She was about to say something when he presented a box in front of her, “I know its not much but please accept it as an added apology for making you uncomfortable on your first day”

She eyed the box curiously, ‘Tom and Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie’ the box label read.

“No need to worry, these were the ones left that never left the box. My friends and I already ate the ones I dropped” he nervously chuckled trying to lighten the mood.

The young designer was awestruck, never has she seen such genuine kindness emanating from someone before. She nervously reached for the box and his hands lingered next to hers before letting go of the box, making sure that she had a tight grip on it.

Adrien smiled at her and she gave out a shy smile in return.

A car honk startled them both. Her ride just arrived so she turned to say goodbye to Adrien, “That would be my ride… Goodbye, t-thanks for the uh-this” she gestured to the box she’s holding between her hip as she opened her umbrella.

She got in the car placing the box in the seat next to her, when she saw him still standing where he was when she saw why she got out again. “I forgot something, be right back”

Adrien was about to wait the rain out before sprinting back to the patisserie when a blushing Marinette Agreste faced him again.

She held out her umbrella not looking at him directly, “Please use this, the rain will take a few more hours before it completely stops. I also want to apologize for glaring at you for basically the whole day”

He hesitated before eventually receiving the umbrella, his fingers touching hers for a split second. “Thanks Marinette, I hope we can still be friends”

She smiled.

“Yeah, I’d like that”

Next Chapter: Marinette gets picked on. Alya finally talks to her fashion icon. New friendships. New relationships.

�� Chapter 3

↬ AO3

#teanammonfics #blackcatandprincess #miraculous ladybug #miraculous au #mlb #ml #mlb fanfic #miraculous fanfic #fanfic #ao3 #marichat #adrienette #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #chloe bourgeois #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #teannamonfics

[dietarysalad]

Street War – Chapter 14

Sougo stood in the middle of Hongou’s hospital room, eyes wide and head racing. He doesn’t like China?

“You… Huh? What?” the older boy stuttered, not quite sure of what he had just heard. “I really respect her,” Hongou stated, smiling gently as he turned to look out his window. “She’s so much stronger than I could ever be and I really wish that I could quickly become strong, just like she is. Even though she’s a year younger than me, she manages to hold her own against bullies and she can even fight against you in those street wars between the Yorozuya and the Shinsengumi.”

Before Hongou could continue any further, Sougo decided to interject. “But… the hoodie string?” he questioned, his voice getting louder and more and more high-pitched as he spoke. “And the paper cranes? And the blushing?” Hongoue chuckled. “Ah, well, I can’t forget the sight I saw when Kagura-chan first helped me out with those bullies. I hold onto this as a memento of that, though,” Hongou looked down at the fabric, a little upset. “It is starting to get super frayed, though.” Sougo looked at the string, and he could only agree. It had reduced to mostly a ball of tangled thread and fluff, with only a small portion of the string still intact.

“And the wish with the paper cranes… I was going to wish-“ “For China girl to like you?” Sougo guessed. However, his words prompted Hongou to almost double over with laughter. “No!” he exclaimed through his chuckles. “I wanted to lose this weak personality of mine. I wanted to become a little more like Kagura-chan.” “Please don’t become like that China gorilla,” Sougo immediately stated.

“As for the blushing… Well,” Hongou pouted. “Wouldn’t you at least blush a little, too? She’s pretty cute, y’know.” Sougo momentarily thought back to Kagura’s sleeping face as she laid in his bed, he hair haloed around her. He shook away the image, a little flustered. I am most certainly not into little piggies who are two years younger than me. Hongou watched as Sougo battled with his inner turmoil. “Gee, Okita-san,” he teased. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re jealous.” “J-jealous?!” Sougo stuttered. “Hah, that’s a laugh.”

Sougo made for the door, ruffling the hair at the nape of his neck in nervousness. “If you hurry, I reckon you’d be able to catch up to her!” Hongou called out, his voice purposefully contained a little sing-song tone. Sougo twitched. “I don’t need to catch up to nobody!” With that, he left Hongou’s room as the younger boy watched in amusement.

When Sougo had escaped the hospital, he breathed in a breath of fresh air and sighed. He was fond of Hongou, he really was, but he did not like the feeling of being played by the boy. Though, I’m surprised that he isn’t into China. Guess I’m not too good at reading these things. Sougo sighed and started to walk in the direction of his apartment when he saw a blob of red-orange hair in the distance.

Hongou’s words made their way back into his head. “If you hurry, I reckon you’d be able to catch up to her!” But Sougo hesitated. He should not be going through with Hongou’s suggestion, and he knew that. If a Shinsengumi or Yorozuya member caught them, there would be way too much confusion to deal with. Plus, there was no reason for him to do it. Kagura was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. As Sougo spent more time deliberating, Kagura continued to walk further from the hospital. In the end, he convinced himself not to go. Instead, he went home to sleep off the weird sick feeling in his stomach that only seemed to arise whenever Kagura was around.

Meanwhile, Kagura had arrived home to find Gintoki cooking dinner. “I see my little girl has come back.” He left dinner for a moment to ruffle Kagura’s hair as she took her shoes off in the foyer. “Kamui’s crashing at Takasugi’s place tonight. There was some heavy-lifting work that needed finishing and the two of them are handling it.” Walking back into the kitchen to fix dinner, Gintoki shooed Kagura off to get changed. I guess he’ll tell me whatever it is he needs to tell me over dinner.

Sure enough, after Kagura had slipped into some more comfortable clothes, Gintoki gestured for his daughter to be seated at the table. He had made curry tonight, and the smell of the curry had definitely stirred Kagura’s appetite. “Thanks for the food-!” “Wait a second, young lady,” Gintoki commanded, halting Kagura’s attack on her dinner plate. “Hm?” Kagura asked, a little unnerved by Gintoki’s serious gaze. “Um, is there something wrong?”

“Well, I’m sure you’re old enough to know about the sorts of things I’m about to ask you about,” Gintoki began. “But it’s still a little awkward. This really isn’t a father’s place to lecture his daughter…” “Then marry Tsukky and get her to do it,” Kagura stated, giving her surrogate father a serious look. Gintoki’s face coloured slightly. “Don’t get funny with me,” he grumbled. “Listen, last night when you were at the Shinsengumi’s place, he didn’t do anything… strange to you, did he?” “Strange?” “Like, indecent strange.” “Indecent strange?” Kagura repeated again.

Gintoki stared holes into his daughter’s forehead, desperately wishing for her brain to understand what he was talking about. Kagura furrowed her brow in concentration. Then, a lightbulb went off in her head. “Ah! Indecent as in, like, those video tapes that you hide under your bed and watch late at night?” she announced, triumphantly pointing her index finger in the air. “Yes, exactly like- wait, what?!” “Don’t worry, Gin-chan,” Kagura waved her father off, grabbing her chopsticks. “Nothing like that happened.” “Huh?” Gintoki asked, his brow beginning to sweat profusely. “Wait, Kagura-chan, how do you know about-?” “Thanks for the food!”

And without any further discussion, Kagura began attacking her curry like a voracious beast. Sighing, Gintoki picked up his chopsticks and also began to eat his portion of curry, albeit at a slower pace. I really need to find a better hiding place for those things. I’m almost sure that Kamui’s stolen a couple of them, too! Ah, that boy.

When dinner finished, Kagura moved into the kitchen to do the dishes while Gintoki turned on the television, aimlessly flicking through channels. “Ketsuno Ana isn’t doing the weather today,” he announced, lying like a potato on their couch. “What a shame.” Kagura hummed. “You know that Tsukky will get mad if she heard you say that,” Kagura stated bluntly. “Ah, unless that’s what you’re hoping for?” “Oi, kid. I did not give birth to you for you to become my love counsellor. Since when did you get so privy into my love life, ah?” “You mean your imaginary one?” “Funny. Listen, Tsukuyo and I don’t have a thing going. And what about you – what’s going on with that Shinsengumi brat?”

Kagura almost dropped a plate. “Nothing is! Besides him being annoying, that is.” It was Gintoki’s turn to hum and he drawled it out for as long as possible. “It’s true!” she yelled. “And I can’t have something going between me and my rival. We’re meant to fight each other, and not anything else!” As she spoke, Kagura could feel her heart race with a strange feeling. Ever since Soyo had brought up that whole thing concerning ‘crushes’, Kagura had been unable to get Sougo’s face off her mind. Gintoki smirked at his daughter. He could practically hear the cogs in her mind turning despite being in a different room. “The lady doth protest too much, methinks.” “Shut up, you don’t even read Shakespeare!”

After a moment of respite, Gintoki spoke to his daughter again. This time, though, his tone was a bit more serious. “Live your life the way you want, Kagura,” he said, turning off the television and walking down the hall to pop his head into the kitchen. “But do be careful of those Shinsengumi. The Yorozuya are as laidback as they come, so no-one will blame you for feeling the way you do. The Shinsengumi, on the other hand… Well, that mayo-freak has been as stubborn as a mule since I first met him. The Shinsengumi are really set on upholding their gang rules – to hate us. I don’t really mind the whole rivalry thing, so I play along. Their gang, though – I don’t know how seriously they take it, but I suggest you watch yourself. Don’t get too involved with that brat unless you can handle the backlash.” Kagura paused, a spoon in hand. “Who said that I’m involved with anyone…?” she mumbled, vigorously rinsing and drying the spoon so as to take her mind off her father’s words. Gintoki smiled. No-one said that you’re involved. But things happen, my idiot daughter.

Author’s Note

Whoopie, yeah! Another chapter is done! I believe we’re just about two-thirds through the story, now! I also really like Dadtoki – seeing father-daughter Gintoki and Kagura makes me so happy. Bonus if Dadtoki is a clumsy idiot who doesn’t actually know how to be a dad and just makes it up as he goes. You feel?

Hmm, but… Next chapter… Well, I usually have a plan for how my chapters are gonna go, but the next chapter kind of has no real plan. I just kind of have it set out. Well, let’s see how it goes! xD Apologies in advance if next chapter has super bad flow.

Also, dear guest Loginder who left me a review in my last chapter – I’m so sorry, but my chapters have already been written! That’s why I can’t do much about Tsukky’s role in this story. (´•ω•̥`) Well, she has a pretty small role so hopefully it won’t bother you too much.

#fanfic #gintama #okikagu #okita sougo #kagura #just wait a second there's another chapter coming #like 2 minutes give me 2 minutes

[theseventhhex]

Mac DeMarco Live Review

Mac DeMarco

Photo by Coley Brown

Performer: Mac DeMarco

Date: 5th August 2017

Venue: Lollapalooza, Grant Park, Chicago

Review by: Vidal N. Granados

With one of the world's biggest music festivals just taken place, Lollapalooza, music could be found everywhere in Chicago. Plenty of aftershows, whether charging or free admission, makes sure the party doesn’t end. Better be prepared to wait in line though...

Being the miser that I am, I opted out to attend a free show. However, with so many artists to choose from it was hard to pick which event to attend. The aftershow that piqued my interested was headlined by Mac Demarco at the Ace Hotel. While I’ve only been listening to Mac Demarco for about the last 2 years, his laidback tunes put you into a trance making him an instant favorite. I had to check it out. And for free? How could I go wrong! Only wish I had brought a raincoat.

That night the rain was persistent - pouring on again off again every 20 minutes. The downpour soaked everyone outside hoping they could get inside the show. When the rain would stop and you began to rinse off, the storm would return with a fury crushing any hopes of staying dry. With puddles in our shoes and clothes completely drenched, my friend Savanna and I stayed in line. Believing once we turn the corner we would gain access inside the show. However, turning the corner revealed we had a whole other block to wait through. Everyone around us tried his or her best to find humour in the fact that we were wet and freezing. Despite their best efforts, many people couldn’t handle waiting or being wet any longer and would leave the line heads down in defeat. Savanna didn’t want our night’s story to end like those people.

During the two hours of standing, I would get out of line and walk towards the front to see if there was any progress being made about getting in. Each time I’d return to my part of the group with bleaker news. Though we were getting closer to the door thanks to people giving up, entering would still be a long time away. By my fourth escape to the front I knew what spectacle to expect to see: an angry young woman complaining to the bouncers about the limited access and the semi-apologetic bouncers explaining their doing all they can but that the venue was at its capacity.

Off to the side away from the confrontation was Mac DeMarco. The star was quietly smoking his cigarette while taking photos with several fans that recognised him. Not wanting to miss the opportunity, I casually walked up to him and offered a handshake. “Hey man, no photos or autographs. Just want to say I’m a fan of your music. Really enjoy your sound. If I don’t get a chance to see you, I would’ve loved to hear you play “My Kind of Woman.” DeMarco smiled and said, “Don’t worry man there’s a pretty good chance you’ll get in. We’re trying to make sure everyone is able to get in.” Not understanding the situation of how long we had been waiting in the rain I replied, “No, we’re all the way in the back. There’s no chance we’re getting in but it was nice meeting you. Hope I can see you play.” With deep sincerity, DeMarco softly spoke, “It was nice meeting you too, man. I hope you have a good night. God bless.” The gap between his two front teeth was bigger in person.

Heading back into the line, I had a newfound determination to find a way into the show. Savanna’s positive attitude had begun to wane and it was up to me to inspire her. We both walked out and I asked the bouncers in the front if we could go into the downstairs bar area to grab a drink. I stated, “Hey, is it okay if we go into the bar? We’re tired of being wet and cold outside. We give up on the show. We just want to go get a drink and warm up inside before we head home.” The bouncer replied, “Absolutely, you can have a drink. I understand.” He opened the door to let us in.

Once we were inside we glanced over to the new companions we made while waiting. With jaws dropped to the ground they gave us a thumbs up. In order to get upstairs to the concert, you had to get into the elevator. You only got into the elevator if you had a wristband. After we finished our double shots of Jameson, I again took the lead. Walking up to the booth I told the women behind the desk that the bouncers outside let us in to attend the show. They questioned why we didn’t have the wristbands like everyone else. I played confused and stated the staff didn’t give us any because they were out, they said they were going to talk to the staff. I stood confidently not breaking a sweat. When they returned they said, “Here’s your wristbands I guess. Enjoy the show.”

We had made it. We made it into the free, exclusive show. The upstairs offered us shelter as well as an outside area. The exposed rooftop showed a beautiful view of the Chicago skyline. The Sears/Wilson Tower looked close enough to touch. The rain clouds had disappeared letting the moon shine bright. Two open bars serving free drinks all night. Mac DeMarco had already begun to play. Savanna and I grabbed our drinks and walked into the small room where he was playing. The tight space made for a more intimate event. The room was packed to the ceiling with young adults screaming DeMarco’s lyrics. We slowly made our way through the crowd until we eventually made it to the front.

While his music is mostly controlled, Mac DeMarco knows how to rile up a crowd. During his performance of “Undone (Sweater Song)”, fans started a mosh pit. Even during a more mellow song like “Viceroy,” in which DeMarco professes his love for that particular brand of cigarettes, a fan crowd surfed and punched a hole in the ceiling. DeMarco egged on the rowdiness by standing on an amplifier yelling his catchphrase “It smells like throw-up in here!” Fans were incredibly close to the performer, shoving and knocking each other over but never falling onto the stage. No one dare interrupt the performance. Things never got completely out of hand and DeMarco would slightly lower the chaos by playing slower songs like “On the Level” and “Blue Boy.” Though he didn’t play the song I had hoped for, it was a still a fantastic performance.

It was a successful night all things considered. Just like in life there were no guarantees. There were low points where I was ready to quit, but if you stay persistent good things will eventually happen. Once I was lucky enough to talk to Mac DeMacro, I wasn’t going to take no for an answer. I needed to see the show! We had a great time. Everyone was friendly from the vendors, to staff, and the wild fans. We weathered the storm together. Next time I try to attend a free event, I’ll make sure to check the forecast.

Mac DeMarco - “One Another”

This Old Dog

#Live Review #mac demarco