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horansqueen · 4 years

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You & Me : chapter 27

A Niall Horan fanfiction ; rated MA

Sequel to AM CONVERSATIONS

CHAPTER 1 || CHAPTER 2 || CHAPTER 3 || CHAPTER 4 || CHAPTER 5 || CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7 || CHAPTER 8 || CHAPTER 9 || CHAPTER 10 || CHAPTER 11 || CHAPTER 12 || CHAPTER 13 || CHAPTER 14 || CHAPTER 15 || CHAPTER 16 || CHAPTER 17 || CHAPTER 18 || CHAPTER 19 || CHAPTER 20 || CHAPTER 21 || CHAPTER 22 || CHAPTER 23 || CHAPTER 24 || CHAPTER 25 || CHAPTER 26

NOTES:

-one chapter is her pov, the next is his. -4.3k - 4.6k -im sorry, i never proofread, i hate it. -there WILL be smut. but not only smut. -this is a romance, comedy, smut story. -for the summary, check my MASTERLIST.

- notes: fluff and smut. best combo yea? (gifs are horancover’s and i used 2 of them sooo thought id mention that!)

if you want to be on the list of blogs i notify when this is updated, just message me :)

requests! : 2 requests! i love you for those i love them both so much!

Chapter 27 : His chapter

NIALL

She looked fantastic. The dress fell to her knees, tight around the waist but baggy as it fell down, sort of like a closed flower, and dyed of different pastel colors except for the top around her chest, pressing her boobs together in a white bustier.

"I look ridiculous." she whined, turning around in front of my mirror to see what it looked like from behind. "It looks like I have big tits when I seriously have none. It's also quite uncomfortable I mean, my boobs are practically on my neck!"

"Uhm, 'ridiculous' is not the word I would have chosen." I pointed out, staring at her reflection. "But if it reassures you I think your tits look amazing."

She groaned and hit my arm friendly, making me laugh.

"I hate my arms. I hate my belly. Fuck this body!" she let out as I moved closer.

"I gladly will." I just said, slipping my arms around her waist from behind and kissing her neck, letting my hands run on her stomach before it reached her boobs. "Should I do it right now or-"

"Niall, please, I look horrible."

I moved back up but remained behind her, looking at her in the mirror with a serious face. I thought she felt better about who she was and what she looked like but it seemed like she was having a short moment of relapse and it made me sadder than she probably thought.

"You've got the prettiest face in the world, and when you smile, I swear it makes my heart beat faster."

"I have crooked teeth, Niall."

"Hush. Let me talk." I quickly said. She rolled her eyes but I noticed a small smile playing on her lips. "I love your eyes and how they literally fucking sparkle when you laugh. I love you ears and how cute they are, and your neck, too because you always get goosebumps when I run my lips on it. I love your hair and how it falls on your back, and I love when you play with a lock at the front all the time, twisting it because you're nervous or embarrassed."

Her smile turned into a fond one and she pressed her lips together.

"Oh and your lips. They're thin, even when you pout, and I always want to kiss them, bite them or suck on them. I know you think bigger lips are sexier but your lips? They know how to suck on my tongue so well when we kiss, they're perfect. I love how fair your skin is, and how you can't tan for shit. I know those veins we can see so clearly really bother you but I love them." I smiled and she laughed. "I love your breasts and how they fit perfectly in my hands, and that tummy that you seem to hate so much?" I let my hand reach her stomach and she sucked it in again. "There's no reason for you to do that." I waited and she finally breathed out. "Thank you." I whispered, pulling her closer to me. "I fucking love your belly. And all your stretch marks. And all your moles. Anything you seem to think is an imperfection makes you perfect."

She smiled a bit but looked down and I could swear I saw her roll her eyes. I slipped my other arm around her and grabbed her dress gently, pulling it up. I knew she wanted to stop me but she was curious about what I was doing and instead, she held her breath.

"I love your thighs." I just let out as she grimaced, pulling her dress down again and sighing.

"I don't. I hate them. And my hips, too."

I ran my hands on her waist and to her hips and sent her a smile. "Do you know how much you glow, Olivia? Yea, you gained weight, and you look incredible. You looked good then, you look good now, and you're so hard on yourself sometimes. If only I could make you see yourself through my eyes."

She stared at me with a serious face through the mirror for a few seconds, her lips parted, and I stared right back, holding her against me.

"What are you gonna do in a few years, Niall, when you'll be stuck making love to this body instead of shagging a tight and skinny one?"

"Tell myself I'm the luckiest man in the world." I whispered close to her ear before she closed her eyes. "I love you."

Quickly, she turned around and wrapped her arms around my neck as I wrapped mine tighter around her. Her lips found mine quickly and the way she kissed me was deep and intense... so intense that I felt my whole body throb. I brought my hand to the back of her dress and moved the zipper down. I thought she'd push me away but she let me and quickly, I ran my lips on her neck and shoulder, making her whimper. I was almost to her left breast when her phone started ringing. I groaned a bit when I realized it was one of my songs and moved back to look in her eyes.

"Mirrors?" I asked with a frown, not really sure why she had picked this song specifically.

"Mmhm," she nodded slowly. "It's a song that really helped me through my depression."

I brought my hands to cup her face and kissed her again as we both heard my voice in the background. It felt a bit weird but when her phone stopped ringing, mine started immediately after. I groaned and pulled away, checking the caller and sighing.

"It's Louis." I just informed before picking up. "Hey mate, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong? I've called your girlfriend and she's not answering! We're waiting for both of you!" I heard him honk from outside my house and saw Liv zipping her dress back next to me.

"She's not my girlfriend, Louis, and you know it."

"Who cares? It's just a matter of time, but anyway, that's not the problem. The problem is we'll be late so you both dress back quickly and hurry the fuck up!"

Without giving me time to answer, he hung up and I chuckled, rolling my eyes. I turned to Olivia and she tilted her head, her eyes running on me and making me frown, a smile still on my lips.

"What?"

"I was so focused on how bad I looked to notice how fucking good you look." she pointed out. "It's a shame. You make me want to masturbate."

I let out a laugh, shutting my eyes tight and bringing my hand over them. I was going to answer something when Louis honked again and we both jumped slightly.

"Come on, let's go."

Without thinking, I stretched my arm and she looked at my hand that was clearly waiting for her. She bit her bottom lip but I still saw a small smile on her lips. Quickly, I brought my hand back and shook my head, closing my eyes for a second.

"I'm sorry."

I felt her fingers grab mine and she got on her tiptoe to kiss me and squeezed my hand. I smiled against her lips and she took a few steps back, sending me a big smile and walking backwards until her fingers slipped out of mine.

"He's gonna be pissed." she explained with a chuckle as I followed her outside.

"Fuck you two are looking good!" Louis exclaimed making her laugh as we sat in the back seat. "Who picked that dress for you, Liv? You look stunning!"

Olivia rolled her eyes with a smile. "Your girlfriend, Louis."

"Damn right she did, you look like a queen." he replied, turning to Eleanor and sending her a large smile. "You're the most amazing woman in the world." he added in a lower tone, making El laugh as she kissed him. "And the most beautiful, too."

"Gee thanks, Louis." Liv joked with a laugh. "At least you didn't say 'in this car'!"

"I could have as well! Because technically-"

"Shut up!" she laughed again.

"Hey, you've got your own prince charming today, you don't need me!"

My lips curled slightly and I turned again to look at her, noticing she was doing the same. Her gaze was soft and fond and it made me smile even more.

"Oh god, they're literally eye fucking on the backseat." I heard Louis whine, making Eleanor laugh.

"Why don't you drive and leave us alone, Louis?" I proposed, my eyes glued to Liv.

"Yea alright I'll leave you both at a bus stop, that's what I'll do!"

I felt Liv's fingers reach mind on the bench and smiled more as I gripped two of them, intertwining them with mine. It would be tough to stay away from her and it got even worse when we got there. I watched the whole ceremony while glancing at Olivia, wondering how she felt and if she was thinking about Dylan. I knew it was still tough for her and it would be for a while, but the way she seemed happier and less nervous now that they were not together anymore made me feel good in a way it shouldn't. I was not happy that she had to go through a break-up, but I was happy that it didn't affect her the way it could have, and I knew her well enough to be sure of what I saw. She was glowing, and it was even more obvious now that she was single.

The party was in a hotel and everyone was dancing. As the night went by, I couldn't help but notice that she was getting tipsy and when a slow song came on, I grabbed her hand and pulled her closer and away from Louis. I was still a bit jealous of what they had and although I tried not to compare my relationship with her to the relation she had with him, it was not easy.

Her eyes softened as soon as they met mine and something twisted in my stomach. It was tough to keep that jealous alive when she looked at me like that and I pulled her a bit closer, looking down at her.

"Can I have this dance?"

She chuckled low but tilted her head before sighing low.

"You can have all the dances, Niall, you know that right?"

I didn't. I was not sure where we stood, and I was not sure if she knew either. We were both just going with the flow, one day at a time, and although it was normally something I liked, I couldn't hide that this time, it made me a bit anxious. I didn't know if we would ever get back together, and I didn't know what I'd do if we didn't. Of course, I know pain ends up being less intense with time, but I really felt like we were meant to be and if after so long without her, I never really stopped thinking about her, I feel like I never would.

I didn't want to pressure her, though, and there was no way I would mention it or push her to decide. If she needed time, I'd give her time, but there was still this constant fear inside me that I had fucked this up so bad over a year ago and that it would never come back.

I kept my mouth shut and pulled her closer as she brought her arms around my neck and I recognized the song that was playing. It was one of the few english songs I remember hearing in her house when we were kids. Most of the time, her mother listened to french singers but Bon Jovi had been a big part of her childhood and I heard her chuckle low in my hear.

"I love this song." she whispered, making me smile.

From hearing it so often at her place, I knew it almost by heart, and it was honestly a miracle I still remembered the lyrics after all these years. I moved the side of my head against her and heard her let out a short whimper and I couldn't help but whisper all the words I could remember to her.

"This Romeo is bleeding But you can't see his blood It's nothing but some feelings That this old dog kicked up

It's been raining since you left me Now I'm drowning in the flood You see I've always been a fighter But without you I give up

Now I can't sing a love song Like the way it's meant to be Well, I guess I'm not that good anymore But, baby, that's just me"

Her grip tighten slightly around my neck and I moved closer, brushing my lips against her ear to make sure she heard the chorus as I sang it in a murmur.

"And I will love you, baby, always And I'll be there forever and a day, always I'll be there 'til the stars don't shine 'Til the heavens burst and the words don't rhyme And I know when I die, You'll be on my mind And I'll love you always."

I held her closer and shut my eyes tight just to feel her body against mine. I knew we were surrounded by people but it felt like I was alone with her, and I never felt like that with anyone else.

"Now your pictures that you left behind Are just memories of a different life Some that made us laugh, some that made us cry One that made you have to say goodbye What I'd give to run my fingers through your hair To touch your lips, to hold you near When you say your prayers, try to understand I've made mistakes, I'm just a man

When he holds you close, when he pulls you near When he says the words you've been needing to hear I'll wish I was him 'cause those words are mine To say to you 'til the end of time"

Her fingers played with my hair and I closed my eyes, swallowing hard before the bridge. It was one thing to sing to her a song that I had written and it felt completely different to sing someone else's words, even if they seemed to fit so well with the feelings inside me.

"If you told me to cry for you I could If you told me to die for you I would Take a look at my face There's no price I won't pay To say these words to you"

She moved away as music kept playing and looked in my eyes. I could swear she was tearing up and somehow, I really wanted to kiss her. It took me all my strength not to as I tried to remember we were not alone even if it really felt like we were. I still stared in her eyes as he started singing again and I kept singing with him, bringing my forehead against hers but keeping my eyes open this time.

"Well, there ain't no luck In these loaded dice But, baby, if you give me just one more try We can pack up our old dreams and our old lives We'll find a place where the sun still shines"

I watched her press her lips together and I knew she was trying not to cry. I couldn't believe how deep I felt these words and somehow, I knew she felt them too. The chorus started again but I just pulled her closer to me, feeling my heartbeats accelerate as her lips came close to mine but I just moved my head up and kissed her forehead, pulling her closer until the music changed. The moment still felt intense and real even if everyone was now dancing on a pop song, throwing themselves around. Olivia was just looking at me, motionless, after she took a step back and after a few seconds, she tilted her head and raised her eyebrows. She turned around and left and I dived my hands in my pockets, looking around me to see if anyone was watching us and when I realize everyone was busy and drunk, I quickly followed her out of the room. She reached the bathroom hall and when I turned the corner, she grabbed my shirt, pulling me closer and getting on her tiptoes to kiss me. I felt her cold fingers slip accidentally through the buttons and reach my skin as I deepened the kiss, pushing her harder against the wall.

"Fuck, I love you." she whispered, allowing her mouth to leave mine only for a second.

"I love you more." I murmured, smiling against her mouth as she chuckled. "You're coming at my place after the party, aren't you?"

"Just to be sure I see you with this suit on for a few more minutes." she half-joked, making me laugh again.

I felt her teeth on my upper lip and she bit it a bit hard, making me groan.

"Are you trying to eat me up?" I laughed a bit, making her whimper again. "Watch it."

"Can't I?" she chuckled too before getting more serious. "Tell me you meant it."

I felt her hand reach between my legs and I groaned, moving my hips against her hand without thinking. "Every word."

I felt her grab the outline of my dick to stroke it and I let out a short moan.

"We can't do that here."

"Mm, I know, I just really wanted to touch you." she mentioned in an innocent voice before sucking on my bottom lip.

"Now I have to go to the bathroom and wait a few minutes to cool down." I complained, making her laugh again.

"I'll wait for you on the dance floor, then."

With a big smile, she pulled away and licked her lips, moving past me and walking back to the party, turning to me mid-way and sending me a satisfied smile. I shook my head and chuckled, leaning my forehead against the wall and waiting until I was good to go back. When I got there, she was dancing with Louis and he was making her twirl around as she laughed. I stared at them for a few seconds and finally sighed, noticing Eleanor sitting a bit further and typing something on her phone. I walked up and sat next to her, catching her attention. She put her phone on the table and reached for my upper arm, squeezing it tightly for a few seconds.

"You alright?"

I nodded and glanced at Olivia and Louis as he pulled on her arms and took her in a hug, swaying her from left to right and making her laugh even more.

"Yea, i'm good."

"Not jealous because of them, are you?"

The left corner of my upper lip moved in a grimace and it made El start laughing.

"I've never known you to be so insecure!" she admitted, laughing some more.

"It's just.. do you see how close they are? I mean you know... you know they actually..."

The words got stuck in my throat and I sighed, shaking my head and closing my eyes. It was ridiculous, I knew it, but at the same time, I couldn't shake this feeling.

"Oh yea, I know they had sex a few times." she nodded and finally shrugged. "I don't like it but at the same time I haven't been that virtuous when Louis and I were broken up either. I was a bit scared at first, too. Sort of like you. But seriously, look at them."

Reluctantly, I turned around to look at them again. Olivia had thrown her head back and was laughing so hard I couldn't stop myself from smiling a bit.

"They're just friends. Close friends, but nothing romantic. They would be together by now if they had these kind of feelings for each other don't you think? Besides, they've been through a lot together." she kept explaining, shrugging as I looked back at her. "That formed a bond that we can't understand, and it's okay. Everyone should have someone to talk to when something goes wrong, or when they're feeling like shit. I have someone, too."

"I thought that person could be me, not Louis." I admitted in a mutter, making Eleanor's lips curl.

"What if it's something about you?"

"Especially if it's something about me! I argued, leaning against the chair.

"I'm not saying she'll go to Louis to solve the problems she may have with you, but we all need a friend that we can trust."

I sighed and turned again to Olivia and Louis. He was throwing some fucking confetti at her, blowing on his hand as they all ended in her hair and in her dress, falling in her cleavage. I groaned again and crossed my arms on my chest. I knew Eleanor was right but I couldn't help and think that if I hadn't broken up with Olivia, I would still be her best friend, and that thought bothered me more than I wanted to pretend.

"You'll get used to it." El added. "The sooner the better. Don't ask her to choose."

My traits softened and I sent her a small smile. "I'd never do that."

"NIALL!"

I turned to Olivia quickly as she motioned for me to join her and I excused myself but noticed Eleanor had got up too. I reached for Liv's hands and made her turn around as she laughed, her chin up, and it made me smile. I knew she was getting a bit drunk but I loved seeing her so happy and I just decided to dance with her until I turned around and noticed Louis filming us.

"Tommo!" I said, moving my hand in front of his phone. "Stop filming!"

Olivia moved her face close to the camera and moved her hand to say 'hello' and Louis laughed, turning the phone my way.

"Say Hello to all your fans, Niall, I'm going to put this video on instagram and make you famous!"

"Fuck off!" I just said before laughing and he stopped filming just in time to miss the middle finger I showed him, making Olivia laugh a bit again.

We danced for about half an hour until I realized we were some of the only people left. I pulled Olivia closer and she sent me a soft smile.

"Are you ready to leave?" I asked in a low tone as she quickly nodded.

We said our goodbyes and I quickly called a cab before we walked outside. She grabbed my fingers and squeezed them for a second before letting go of my hand again and it made me chuckle silently. I loved how she needed to show me affection even if she was not supposed to touch me but I didn't mention it, scared that she'd stop. She grabbed her phone as we were outside and quickly sent a text message, making me frown.

"Just telling Louis not to drive." she explained as the cab arrived.

We sat in the backseat and I took my jacket off right before her lips cashed against mine. I laughed and pulled away, giving my address to the driver and turned back to her. I stared in her eyes for a few seconds as she leaned her head on the back of the seat and moved closer to press my mouth against hers again. I grabbed my jacket and placed it over her lap, making her frown and making me smirk.

"Don't move, okay?" I whispered. "And not a sound."

I ran my hand on her thigh under my jacket, my fingers brushing the inside of it, moving her dress up as she spread her knees apart more. Her eyes got bigger and I knew she was holding her breath. It made me chuckle and I brushed my fingers over her panties, making her whole body tense.

"Relax." I breathed out, my lips moving against her parted ones. "I've got ya."

With two of my fingers, I pushed her panties aside and her eyes closed. My fingertips rubbed gently on her clit and I started leaving kisses on her lips and chin. I laughed again when she let out a short whimper and licked my lips.

"Not a sound, remember?" I asked low, amused by how turned on she was. I slipped two fingers inside her and grabbed her bottom lip between mine, nibbling on it for a few seconds and I felt her thigh press against mine as she spread her legs more again. "You like that?"

She nodded quickly and I started rubbing my thumb on her clit as I moved my fingers in and out of her slowly. I just hoped the driver was not glancing too often in his mirror and I tried to place my body closer to Olivia's so he could only see my back.

"You feel so good." I whispered. "I wish I could feel me cock inside ya right now."

I felt her hand move around my head and grip my hair tight as I pushed my fingers knuckle deep, curling them slightly. I felt her tense more and kissed her deeply, rubbing my thumb a bit faster on her clit. I could feel how wet she was and my thumb flicked so well on her swollen clit that I could feel when she was about to cum.

"Oh my god Niall." she murmured, gripping my hair tighter from the roots and shutting her eyes tight. "I'm gonna cum."

I kept the rhythm of my fingers as she shook against me, biting her bottom lip so hard to make sure she wouldn't make a sound that I thought she was going to bleed.

"Oh my fucking god." she let out in a mix of a whimper and a whisper as I took my fingers out, sending her a smirk. "Can't believe you did that."

I raised my eyebrows, smirking more and bringing my fingers to my lips, sucking on them for a few seconds. Her face changed and her eyes got bigger, making me laugh louder than intended.

"Niall!"

"What?" I asked with an amused smile. "Jealous?"

I bend down to her to kiss her again and this time, she did it slow and I lost my smile. It always felt so good when we kissed and I never wanted it to end. The car stopped but she kept kissing me and I didn't want to pull away.

"Okay kids, get out."

Olivia laughed and I finally pulled back before I grabbed money from my pocket, handing the driver way more than I owed him if only for the trouble we gave him and what he had to witness. I got out of the car and helped her too and we just stood there, in front of my house, side by side, for a few minutes.

"That was a nice wedding." I just said, glancing at her with a smirk.

"Mmhm, yea." she agreed, nodding. "I didn't want to go at first but I'm glad you asked me to be your date."

"Yea and you know, our wedding will be very different." I pointed out with a shrug. "Just you, me, and Elvis in a small chapel."

She frowned and turned to me with a surprised expression, making me laugh more.

"Say what?"

I ignored her question and held my hand out to her. "Come on, let's go to bed."

#niall horan #niall horan smut #niall horan fluff #niall horan story #niall horan fan fic #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan fan fiction #niall horan writing #my fanfics #yam #i never know what to tag this lol

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supposed2bfunny · 5 years

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2doc Week Day 7-First Kiss

Rating: T

Warnings: Mentions of sex, alcohol, drugs, the usual

Wow, we’re at the last day just like that. Big thanks to everyone who participated, and by all means, keep using the tag if you continue to work with any of the prompts. Hope everyone had fun and maybe met some new members of the community!! <3 <3 <3

For three days, Stuart had been losing sleep and fearing for his life, and it was starting to show.

He could blame his jittery behavior and near constant mouthful of pills on the jetlag at first. After all, he’d never been to Japan, and adjusting to such a different time zone was no easy feat. He could tell that the others were weary from it all too. But when they returned to Kong after wrapping up the first half of their tour, spent yet exhilarated from the experience, he didn’t feel any better.

It got worse.

Because back in Kong with the four of them recharging and relaxing under one roof, Stuart could not help but face Murdoc almost constantly, his head spinning with guilt at what he’d done, and at the bassist’s own cluelessness.

He was a creep, a sodding awful friend. A liar.

“This is just the beginning,” Murdoc had spoken around the lip of a bottle of cognac. He’d been saying that nonstop on the tour, though his voice was particularly querulous that night. The thrill of touring, of performing live (behind a curtain, granted, but live nonetheless) to venues full of screaming fans had electrified him, and he was living the rockstar life he’d been aspiring to for the past decade of his life like he was trying to make up for lost time.

Stuart had never seen a man drink so much, snort so much, and fuck so much, oftentimes all at the same time. Not that he minded. On this particular night, he realized that Murdoc was teetering at the edge of his limits, even for him. So, with Russel out with Noodle to try some of Tokyo’s top-quality sushi (“when in Rome, do as the Romans do,” the drummer had said, “when in Japan, eat the sea”), he found himself tasked with making sure Murdoc didn’t take himself out Bonzo style.

An especially tough task since the singer had already imbibed half his weight in Sapporos and a couple of naproxen for his migraine.

“Yeah,” he prodded the bassist along when Murdoc fell quiet, head lulling a bit with exhaustion, bottle of liquor threatening to fall from his hands onto the hotel floor. “Just the beginning, Muds? Tell me more.”

Keeping the older man talking until he sobered up was probably the best idea, he figured. He wasn’t sure how he would pull that off, but Murdoc seldom needed much prompting to talk up a storm.

“Mate, you’n’me. Gonna…gonna tour every country on the map. Then the moon.” Murdoc had a bit of a stammer, Stuart had learned. It came out when he was drinking and not as sharp-minded as usual. He stumbled over words, tended to start phrases and then change them halfway through his sentences. It was interesting to learn that even something as simple as talking seemed to take extra consideration for Murdoc. To simply hold a conversation meant clearing hurdles.

Stuart spent his time vacillating between finding these details of Murdoc’s life sad and endearing. Tonight, beer softened his sentiments, and he was leaning towards the latter.

“I’d like that. We’ll sound good on the moon,” he agreed. “Great acoustics, I hear. Right, Murdoc, the acoustics are good?” Stay awake, you stupid sod.

Murdoc’s unfocused eyes slid across the room and snagged on his, suddenly focusing so sharply that Stuart’s heart skipped and he felt himself start to sweat under his arms a little bit. How could Murdoc look at him so intensely when he was so altered?The mis-matched gaze did not let up. The bassist spent a lot of his time staring at the singer, but to hold eye contact with him like this was rare. Intimidating. Electric.

“You’ll sound fucking brilliant wherever you sing, mate,” he replied, and Stuart felt warm suddenly; he rose to open the window, stumbling over a few empty beer bottles on his way across the bedroom. “Your voice carrying across the stage. Satan, the stuff of wet dreams.”

“That’s a weird way to compliment someone.”

“I’m not complimenting…wasn’t trying to compliment you.”

Stuart took a few deep breaths of fresh air, then crossed back to resume sitting in the chair beside the bed where the older man was sprawled, but Murdoc reached out, caught his wrist, eyes defiant despite his intoxication.

“What, Muds?”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“Okay, I heard you.” What was it then, a come-on? He jerked his hand out of the bassist’s grip, trying to shove that idea out of his head. “You’ve sounded good too, you know. You’re good live. The fans go crazy for you.”

“Of course they do. You see what I do with my hips. Between your looks and my…zest, we carry the band’s sex appeal. It’s a two-man job. We create, we establish that tension.”

“We sure do, mate. Can I get you some water?” Because he did not want to sit around talking about his sex appeal with Murdoc any more. Especially since his heart was beating faster, and the tips of his fingers felt pins and needles prickly. Must be a result of the drugs. Mixed with the damn beers. Mixed with the fact that he felt high every time he was alone with Murdoc.

“You ever shagged a bloke?” Murdoc asked arbitrarily, and Stuart could swear that the room tilted a bit in that moment.

“Excuse me?”

The older man’s eyes were still on him. On his mouth, his hands, always coming back to his eyes. He was glazed with liquor; he didn’t care how embarrassed the singer looked. His words simply had to come out.

“Have you?”

“No, Murdoc,” he replied, again crossing the room, this time to the mini fridge, and his relief to find mini bottles of water was overwhelming. It took a long time for him to manage to twist the small bottle open. He didn’t bother to ask if Murdoc had ever shagged a bloke. He didn’t want to know. “Gotta use the loo. I’ll be right back. Don’t choke on your own vomit, okay?”

“Hm,” Murdoc responded, eyes wandering up to consider the room’s molding as the singer legged it to the bathroom.

Stuart took his time, rinsing his face with cold water, downing the bottle from the fridge and tossing the container into the trashcan. Wasn’t Japan big on recycling? Fuck it. He was practically on vacation.

He smoothed his hair, tried not to think about what in Murdoc’s confused brain would bring him to ask such a question. By the time he made it back out, Murdoc had fallen asleep; his nose made a slight whistling noise as he breathed through it, and Stuart knew him well enough to know that it was only a matter of minutes before his mouth opened so he could breath that way instead. His nasal passages were so busted that he was doomed to sleep looking corpselike, mouth hung open and loud snores imminent.

In the meantime, he was still and he was quiet. And Stuart came to stand over him, looking at the open bottle of cognac somehow unspilled in his arms, at the gleam of his gold cross, at the faint stubble on his chin. Keeping him talking had been a bad idea, the singer decided. Better to let Murdoc sleep the alcohol off and keep an eye on him.

And while he had this moment to himself…

Alone in a foreign country with no one else around, Stuart leaned down and pressed his lips very softly against Murdoc’s.

He pulled back, heart hammering, entire face hot with shame. He flicked on the television, listening to the news in Japanese for a bit.

Five minutes later, Murdoc’s mouth hung open as he snored and Stuart was working through a few more Sapporos. Ten minutes later, Murdoc was flying awake to lean over the edge of the bed and vomit all over the carpet. The sight alone set off the singer’s gag reflex, and he joined in, prompting a late-night visit from an overly polite but clearly distressed staff member.

It didn’t matter that nobody knew what had happened. Because that didn’t’ change the fact that Stuart had taken advantage, kissed Murdoc when he was asleep and unable to turn down the gesture. His anonymity only increased his guilt.

So he was dismayed when Murdoc barged into his room without knocking on the third day back from their tour, looking grumpy and exhausted.

“This heart-felt moment has been brought to you by the Russel Hobbs Federation of Social Niceties,” he spat kicking at the coils of wires that Stu had arranged around the keyboard he was tinkering with, trying to be useful, trying to keep busy.

“What does that even mean?” he asked, confused, and not making efforts to get up off the floor.

“It means Russ has been giving me a hard time. Because apparently I did something to upset you.”

Stuart had gone out of his way to avoid Murdoc since The Incident, so he was surprised to hear that Russel thought the bassist had been getting into fights with him. “No, Muds. You haven’t done anything. Can you close the door on your way out? Also maybe try knocking next time—”

“Slow down there, Crawley, Stills, and Nash.”

“How long’ve you been waiting to use that nonsensical nickname?” he couldn’t help but smile at the bassist’s wit, matched only by his lack of logic, and Murdoc caught his smile and looked pleased.

“Think that’s the first time I’ve seen you smile since we left Tokyo.”

And just like that, his expression clouded.

“Faceache. Seriously. I haven’t the faintest idea what I’ve done to upset you, but I’ve noticed it, Russel noticed it, and if the way she points her spoon at me when she eats her cereal in the morning, even Noodle’s onto it. Everyone here assumes I’ve upset you, so go ahead and let me know what I’ve done so I can decide whether or not to bother saying I won’t do it again.”

Stuart looked down at the auxiliary cord in his hand and sighed. “I promise, you didn’t do anything wrong. You’re all right; I’ve been acting a little weird. But it really wasn’t your fault. I did something I shouldn’t have. Trying to sort out what to do about it now.”

Murdoc looked intrigued. “We going to have someone ringing the door in nine months time asking for child support?”

The singer pulled a face. “Of course not! Nothing like that!”

“Right,” Murdoc looked unconvinced, but now there was something else on his features. Mild alarm. Stuart realized with a rush that the bassist was getting concerned for him. “What was it then? Nobody hurt you, did they? Mate, I’m being honest when I tell you I remember about seven minutes total from Tokyo. I know you were drinking a lot too. If anyone hurt you—”

“No one hurt me!” he snapped, rising to his feet so he could loom over Murdoc, who instantly stepped back a bit so he wouldn’t have to crane his neck so much to meet the singer’s eyes. “Maybe you should go.”

“You join the Yakuza?” Murdoc asked, ignoring his suggestion, turning nasty to keep the singer from clamming up more.

Stuart took the bait at once. “No! Look I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Nothing illicit like that, got it? You haven’t done anything wrong, and since you didn’t want to be here in the first place, I don’t see why you won’t just leave me alone!”

“Well because now I’m intrigued by little Stu’s bad behavior,” he replied, smug.

“Piss off, Murdoc.”

“C’mon, just tell me what went wrong!”

“No, get out of my room—”

“I won’t breathe it to another soul!”

“Murdoc get ou—”

“You’ll feel better if you just say it, mate—”

“I kissed a man,” Stuart seethed.

Murdoc froze so dramatically that the singer could practically hear the comedic record scratch. “Well. That’s certainly not like joining the Yakuza at all. Stepping out of the closet, are you?”

“No,” he said tersely, feeling a headache coming on anew. “Just wanted to try it. So I did. And uh, it’s been on my mind ever since. Happy now?”

The bassist certainly didn’t look happy. He stared at Stu with a look akin to betrayal on his face. The singer flinched when his mouth opened, awaiting the stream of homophobic slurs that would no doubt become his new nicknames.

“Did you like it?” he asked.

The singer was caught off guard. “He didn’t really kiss back,” he admitted. “So, it wasn’t really a good, satisfying kiss. I can’t say. You uh, you probably don’t remember. But you got really drunk one night and asked if I’d ever been with a man. I had never considered it, but you made me think about it. So, uh. That’s how it happened.”

“Glad to know I inspired you to get out of your comfort zone,” Murdoc said, a lackluster smile on his mouth.

“Too bad it wasn’t a real kiss though,” Stuart said, and why the hell did he say that? As though Murdoc cared one bit for how satisfying his half-true dalliances were.

“Would you…” Murdoc took a step forward, his neck bending back a bit to hold the singer’s gaze. “Would you want to see what it’s like? A proper kiss, that is.”

There were no liquor bottles this time. No pills so he could pretend this moment was a fabrication of his drug-addled brain. His chest felt tight and his fingertips were going a little numb with adrenaline again. And there was Murdoc, smelling of cigarettes, his eyes not narrowed like they usually were, expression unreadable. They both knew the answer to the question.

He had been asking it himself since he’d blurted out what he’d done in Tokyo.

“Y…yes.”

Murdoc didn’t wait for any further social cues. He closed the space between them, jutting his face up to meet the singer’s mouth, kissed him like they’d done it a million times before: no hesitation, no doubt, just the firm warmth of lips against his.

Stuart’s head spun with the sensation, and he reached out, wanting to touch the older man, deciding against it last-minute. His hands remained frozen between their chests and Murdoc tilted his head slightly, let their lips drag against each other a bit, and the singer had to fight off the urge to moan softly. It was more than acceptable. It was intoxicating.

Just like that, the bassist pulled back, searching Stuart’s eyes like there was text there he couldn’t quite figure out how to read.

“Alright, dents?”

“Yeah.”

“You look ready to keel over.”

“Yeah.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah. No, wait. No!”

He smiled, but not even close to a sincere one. “Did I repel you, then?” he asked. “It was just a kiss, 2D. We never have to do it again, so don’t look so bloody stricken.”

“I’m not stricken. I mean, I was surprised, Muds,” he admitted, looking away, at the keyboard he had set out to fix and had only dismantled. “Like, surprised by how much I liked it.”

“Hm,” the bassist considered his answer, then his expression brightened a bit. “Well, if it wasn’t the worst thing you ever experienced, we could always try it again.”

“Oh!” he was blushing now, how utterly humiliating. Blushing and stumbling for words and taking a few steps back. “I mean, I hadn’t considered that. We just did a second ago, do you really think we should do it again so soon—”

Murdoc was following each step he took, and suddenly the singer’s back was against the wall and he knew that he was losing the chance to deescalate the situation. If he asked the bassist to back off, he knew Murdoc would.

Instead, he let his eye fall mostly closed, focusing on the bassist’s mouth.

“Yeah, alright.”

“Hm. That’s nice, pet, very nice,” he purred, voice so low that Stuart could feel more than hear it.

Then Murdoc’s mouth was on his again, and when his shoulders hit the wall seconds later and the bassist’s hands rose to pin them there, he let himself moan like he’d been wanting to.

By the time Murdoc pulled away from his wet lips, pressing a last peck to the corner of his mouth, looking at him through his fringe with his breath quickened and fluttery, Stuart knew he had to set the record straight about what had happened in Tokyo.

Not right away, of course. For the present, he could use that jealousy that he tasted on Murdoc’s tongue to his advantage. He had quite a few more kisses he wanted from the bassist.

#2doc #2docweek #2docweek2019 #day7 first kiss #2doc fanfiction #i kinda hate this piece and i may go back and rewrite it one day #but with 45 minutes to go before today ends i had to publish something!!#phase 1 stu just has a huge crush and doesn't know what to do about it!!

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doubledeaky · 5 years

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See What a Fool I’ve Been - Part Three

Brian May x Female!Reader

Part One | Part Two

A/N: Hey, everyone! I’m sorry for my inconsistent updates of this fic, I’ve been having trouble writing this particular fic but I’m getting there! The next part will be the final part, so please stay tuned! Thank you all so much for the love and support on my last two posts, you guys rock! As always, feedback is very much appreciated! Much love! -m:)

Summary: Being friends with John Deacon meant being friends with his band mates. This blossoming group of best buds seems logical until Brian realizes he may like you more than a friend. Unfortunately, your oblivious nature and Roger’s constant cock-blocking spells trouble for Brian and the romantic feelings he harbors for you. Young love isn’t always as fun as the movies make it seem.

Word Count: 1,327 words (sorry it’s so short!)

Warnings: cursing

Brian audibly groaned as the white streaks of sunlight pouring through his curtains temporarily blinded his tired eyes. He pressed on both eyes with the pads of his thumb and pointer finger, attempting to rub the sleep from them. His feet felt cold, looking down he noticed they were hanging off of the bed uncovered, typical. He threw the duvet from his body and onto the floor which was littered with dirty clothes and books, very out of character for neat freak, Brian May. His long legs felt heavy as he attempted to swing them over the side of his mattress and when he managed to do so, a dull ache reverberated throughout his muscles. He grimaced, sitting up with the assistance of his also very sore arms. Taking a quick glance of the condition of his room, he sighed and buried his face in his hands. The past few weeks had been tough, and Brian’s room was suffering as a result. He hadn’t really tidied since he met you a little over a month ago and the idea of what could be living among the mess caused a shiver to climb Brian’s spine. Nevertheless, he pushed himself from the bed; his legs still screaming in pain. The band had had a gig the night before and while the aches the day after hurt, having to watch Roger continue to butter you up after every gig hurt even more. You’d been to a total of four gigs now, the flames of jealousy in Brian’s chest only growing after each. Roger was determined, and Brian envied his persistence, especially since you’d seemingly shot him down every time he’d hinted to the idea of something more. Whether you were truly rejecting him or obliviously playing along, thinking Roger’s sly remarks were merely compliments, Brian didn’t know. What he did know was that he didn’t like it, at all. He felt a welcome sense of relief wash over him when he remembered there was no gig and he’d be able to exist in peace without the constant reminder that you weren’t his, you’d never be his, and that you would inevitably end up shagging Roger. He opened the door to his room and furrowed his brow when he wasn’t bombarded by the screams and vivacious laughs of his roommates. Instead, they were all sat at various points in the room either eating, reading, or both. Brian gave the three a friendly wave as he wordlessly poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Morning, Bri.” Freddie said behind his newspaper, yawning obnoxiously right after. Brian hummed in acknowledgement, taking a sip of his coffee and appreciating the warmth it brought to his cold limbs. The unfamiliar, but welcome, quiet was interrupted by Roger who saw it appropriate to begin stirring the pot.

“It’s a shame we don’t have a gig this weekend. Was so looking forward to seeing Y/N.” He said, smirking as he doodled with a blue pen onto the back of a napkin. Brian inhaled deeply and rolled his eyes, annoyed Roger found it necessary to get everyone riled up this early in the morning. John peered at Roger from behind a magazine, sneering at him.

“Rog, can you please keep it in your pants? She’s my friend, and I’d appreciate it if you’d stop dropping us hints about how much you’d like to get in her pants.” John said, rolling his own grey eyes and focusing back on that month’s issue of Rolling Stone. Roger laughed but didn’t look up, extremely focused on his drawing of what Brian assumed, from his view, was a dog.

“C’mon, Deaks! I get that she’s your friend and all, but you can’t deny she’s fit.” Roger said smugly, grinning from ear to ear with a cockiness that made Brian nauseous.

“Yeah, Rog. I can see that, I have eyes, but all I’m asking is that you not discuss your sexual fantasies involving her with the lot of us.” John said, huffing out an exasperated breath. Roger sat back, disgustingly smug. He shrugged and crossed one leg over the other.

“Can’t help it. I mean, she’s a total babe. Nice tits, and not to mention her bum. I’ll tell ya, I’d like to- “

“Stop talking about her like that.” Brian hissed from the other side of the room, absolutely seething. Roger turned to him, still smug, and gave him a challenging glare.

“What’s your problem, Bri? Are you mad you haven’t got the gall to try and get into her knickers?” He said, smirking as he tapped his fingers on the arm of the couch. Freddie’s eyes widened, and John was still shocked Brian was brave enough to even attempt to call out Roger. Brian set down his cup of coffee and crossed his arms over his chest, his full weight shifting onto his left leg. He huffed, growing angry and feeling slightly flustered. Roger tilted his head with both eyebrows raised, awaiting his reply.

“No, Rog, it’s not that. Just think you should have some respect. You’re being a proper dick right now.” Brian said simply, furrowing his brows Roger’s way. Roger’s face and chest grew red, his reputation of flying off the handle on the brink of being on full display. He scoffed, shaking his head.

“No, Bri. I just think you’re just chapped because I’m not afraid to go after what I want. You envy me.” Roger spit, shifting in his seat to face Brian. Freddie and John were stunned. Arguments among them were always lighthearted, this seemed malicious. Brian laughed in disbelief, shaking his head, curls bouncing softly.

“Envy you? Sure, Rog, if that helps you sleep at night.” Brian said, dismissively waving a hand as he turned to pour himself more coffee, already wanting this conversation to end. Roger was angry now; he didn't like being shamed, especially from the likes of Brian.

“What the fuck is your problem, May? So, what if I want to shag her? What does it matter to you?”

“Cuz’ I fancy her, alright!” Brian shouted, breathing shaky and fists clenched. The room fell silent and Brian witnessed a rare emotion for Roger cross his face, regret. Only for a moment though, as Roger’s trademark smirk soon returned to its usual position in mere seconds. He leant back on the couch and reached for a cigarette on the stool beside him.

“Well, you’re shit at showing it.” Roger mumbled, lighting the cigarette hung loosely between his lips. Brian’s shoulders relaxed but he grew confused.

“What?” Brian asked, his eyebrows still drawn together. Roger huffed and sat up.

“Brian, you may be an astrophysicist, but you truly are daft. If you would have made an effort to show me you fancied her, I would have backed off. I’m not a complete asshole.” Roger said, puffing on his cigarette.

“News to me.” Freddie mumbled, and John laughed into his hand. Roger promptly flicked him off and all attention was back to Brian, who was still a bit shocked to say the least. Roger sighed frustrated, already reaching for a second cigarette.

“Brian, just grow a pair and go get her. Nothing’s stopping you now.” He said, returning his concentration back to drawing. Brian felt relief flood his chest and a breathy laugh escaped him. He ran to the coat rack, fishing for his jacket and pulling it over his lithe frame. Brian turned to the three men, giving Roger a nod which he returned with a playful eye roll and smile. Brian got to work on the lock of the door, flinging it open. John sat up in his chair, his arms supporting his weight.

“You break her heart and your ass is mine, May!” John called as Brian stumbled out of the door, giving John a thumbs up through the opening before it shut. The remaining three all relaxed in their seats, the previous tension in the room now dissipating.

“This is definitely not how I imagined my morning going.” Freddie stated from his seat and John nodded in solemn agreement, burying his face in a pillow beside him.

tag list: @ourfracturedomens @ladylannisterxo @arrowswithwifi @discoball-deaky @everybodyplaythegame @rogerlad @queenbbarnes @mackers125 @alexfayer @borhapqueen92 @thesecondlastjedi @dashlilymark @joe-mozzarello @goodoldfashionedlovergal @readinghorn @disn3yfreak (this is the official tag list for the fic; if you'd like to be added, please let me know!)

#brian may #brian may x reader #brian may x you #brian may imagine #queen #queen band #queen imagines #roger taylor #john deacon #freddie mercury #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #borhap imagine #breakthrubabywrites

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julesthequirky · 6 years

Text

Lead Me Into Temptation Chapter Eleven

Summary: Your crush on your next door neighbour is already long established. The signs are slight, but you can’t fully tell if he likes you or not. The problem is: he’s much older.

It was over. The relationship that could have been was over before it started. You curled up over your duvet on your bed, replaying the moment over and over.

You were torturing yourself, but you couldn’t stop it. It hurt. Every time it cut deep like a knife and the tears came again.

Beside you your phone buzzed. It had been doing that all week, non stop.

You must have dozed off, because when you came to the evening sun was streaming in through your bedroom window. It was damn hot. Too hot for you right now. You sat up groggy, tired and a little hungry. You wiped your eyes and swung your legs off the side of the bed. Standing up, you stretched your tired bones and wet your dry mouth. Your bare feet padded on the thin carpet as you made the short distance to the front room.

“You’re awake.”

You jumped and turned to the voice. It was Jared.

“What are you doing here?” your voice was a little deep and scratchy from only just waking up. You rubbed your eyes pulling the sleep out of them.

“I came to see how you are. And to collect rent.”

Rent. Shit. You hadn’t been at work all week. You hadn’t even called in. As far as Walter knew you were MIA. You pointed to a small corner table with a brown paper envelope on.

“Rent’s there.”

You decided to go back to bed. Hunger had evaded and you were way too tired to deal with Jared.

“Y/N, sit down, and tell me what happened. Haven’t you been getting Misha’s texts? I know for a fact you haven’t responded to mine or Jensen’s.”

At the mention of his name, the lump tightened and you looked away as tears pricked your eyes.

“What’s going on with you? Misha tells me you haven’t been at work all week.”

You sat down in an armchair and huddled up. The thought of bringing it up made the words get stuck in your throat.

“Misha… doesn’t want me.”

Your fingers gripped the cushion and you stuffed your face into it, shuddering out your tears. Saying it hurt a lot more than thinking about it over and over.

“What?”

You couldn’t repeat it. The restriction in your throat hurt as did the pain inside.

You heard the creek of Jared knees as he knelt down and felt his form close to you.

“Honey, you couldn’t be further from the truth. I know for a fact he’s crazy about you. He talks about you all the time. Did something happen?”

He slowly removed the cushion you hid behind and saw your red tear ridden eyes and the utter brokenness you carried.

“He rejected me.”

He gave you a confused look, but said nothing, waiting for you to continue.

With a shaky breath you did.

“I came onto him. We had came from the bar, back to his. We were gonna continue drinking. Now I know he was wanting me to sober up, but I just wanted to forget. I don’t know what came over me. I kissed him and he pulled away, instantly. He didn’t want me. Doesn’t. Want. Me.”

Jared cupped your face with his large hands. They were humongous, bigger than Misha’s. You let his hands cradle your face, his thumbs wiping away tears. You drew in shaky breaths.

“I can tell you now,” The timbre of his vice was soft. “You have it all wrong.”

You looked down, your eyes on the cushion in front of you.

“I know it was last week. Misha has been desperate to get hold of you, honey. He didn’t want to feel like he was taking advantage of you. You were drunk. Look at me Y/N,” You sniffed and lifted your eyes to him. “It wasn’t wrong of you, but Misha didn’t feel that the time was right.”

He let go of your face and pulled out his phone.

“I’ve had numerous calls and texts from him. He wants to talk to you. You should talk to him. I won’t make you, I’ll let you decide on that.”

You nodded, silently. Dutifully.

“Walter has also stated he’ll allow the week off as sick, with pay, all you have to do is turn up Monday morning. Misha also wanted me to pass this on, the police have convicted Mike of sexual assault. Turns out that his father is violent to his mother, so we think Mike grew up with it. He was probably conditioned to keep it a secret.”

You were shocked at that.

“Wait, what? Really? Is Sheila okay?”

Jared pulled a face. “Sheila… she’s finding it tough on her own. It’s a huge adjustment for her. Obviously in time, it’ll begin to get easier.”

“How? There’s no evidence.”

He gave you a look.

“Honey, Misha can be pretty ruthless when he wants to be.”

He stood up, his knees creaking again.

“I should also tell you, your mother hasn’t been the nicest person to Misha.”

You looked up at him. Christ he was so tall. Your brow furrowed. You couldn’t imagine Ma being horrible to anyone.

“Why?”

“She doesn’t believe Mike assaulted you. She also believes he’s having… certain… relations with you. He’s being harassed.”

Your jaw tensed. You couldn’t believe the absurdity of her. His words quickly fired you up, making your heart pump faster and your blood heating up to a roaring flame.

“That… that… urgh.” You stood up and put your flip flops on, grabbed your keys and your bag.

“Whoa, where are you going?”

“To my mothers.”

“Um… you have no pants on.”

You looked down at your bare legs. “Right.”

You dropped everything and headed into your bedroom. You slipped on shorts and came back in.

“I see you ditched the dresses.”

“They’re there in the wardrobe, I stopped wearing them.”

“What are you gonna do with them? Are you ever going to wear them again?”

You shrugged. “I haven’t made any decisions yet.”

“Are you seriously going over there?”

You nodded.

“She has no right to say that to Misha.”

He put up his hands. “Hell, don’t let me stop you.”

You walked out, Jared following you out after picking up your rent. He let you lock up and you both headed down the stairs, out of the apartment complex and onto the street. You headed straight to your car.

“I won’t stop you but don’t say anything you’ll regret.”

You nodded keeping that in consideration. You slung your bag onto the passenger seat and started her up. The red mistress roared to life and settled to a purr. You slotted the tape in and played. AC/DC’s ‘Back in Black’ burst forth through the speakers. You turned the volume knob up high, just the way you liked it, slipped on your sunglasses, rolled the window all the way down and drove off.

By the time you got to your parents, you had changed cassettes and were nodding emphatically to Iron Maiden’s ‘The Number Of The Beast’ before you pulled up. Faces peeked round curtains, one of them would be your mother you believed. It was she came out as you were collecting your bag and unbuckling your seat belt.

“Turn that racket off. I have neighbours. Have you no shame?”

You turned, your shades still on. You smiled and turned the music down.

“Funny you should mention neighbours. Haven’t you been talking to Misha?”

She looked at you incredulous for answering back.

“Of course not.”

You tutted. “’Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour.’ Isn’t that what Exodus 20:16 tells you? In other words. Liar. Liar. Pants. On. Fire. Because I know for a fact you have. I have friends mother, very good friends, and I don’t know what you’ve been saying to him, but I’m telling you now, it stops.”

Her features turned bitter.

“You cannot be here, telling me what I can or cannot do.” She pointed her finger at you.

You gave her a shit eating smile.

“Suuure I can. It’s a free country. Freedom of speech and all,” ‘Run to the Hills’ by Iron Maiden played and you tapped your palms against the wheel. “ I do love this song.” you spoke wistfully at the end.

“It’s the devils music.”

You sighed.

“Oh, mother. You really need to get outta that head of yours. It’s no more devil worship than watching Buffy.”

“I want you off my property.”

You looked at her front yard, and the sidewalk she was standing on.

“I’m pretty sure you don’t own the sidewalk you’re on, mother. I’d be surprised if you did.”

Her cheeks coloured. She didn’t like to be embarrassed.

“How could you create all those lies about Mike!” she hissed. “Now, poor Sheila is estranged from her husband and her son is going to jail. All because of you!”

You looked at her. She was turning this back on you.

“Mike’s father was a violent woman beater, which Mike learnt from and he got what was coming to him. And I don’t feel sorry for him at all. Not in the slightest. If you want to blame me for bringing out the truth, then so what. Blame me. But they were all living a lie and someone uncovered their secret and Sheila will be better off without her husband.”

“Sheila is a good friend of mine, and now you’ve turned everything upside down. You have a nerve coming here, given your certain relations to a man who’s old enough to be your father.”

You smiled, shaking your head.

“I’m not shagging my ex neighbour if that’s what you’re talking about.”

“Do you have to use obscene language?”

You looked forward through the windscreen of your car. “Everyone does it mother. You did.” you spoke calmly.

“He’s corrupted you.” she whispered.

“No, mother, he saw my true potential. He helped me to become myself. He helped me out of the shell I was in. Out of the life I didn’t want.”

“He gave you a car for your birthday, in devil red. What does that say? Is that the kind of gift neighbours give who aren’t fornicating? I don’t think so,” She looked down into the car. “Have you no dignity? You even dress like a common prostitute.”

You looked down at yourself. You were wearing a simple cut off t-shirt and shorts and black flip flops. You were even wearing a bra today which was a step up.

“Well you were the one who wanted me to get married to a church man.”

“Not to a man who’s been to church the one time!”

You didn’t get a chance to retort as a car’s engine sounded and you both turned to look. You recognised the car all too well. Your mother had the leeway as she marched straight over. It took you a moment as your finger jabbed the stop button and had to cut the engine. You stepped out of your car, grabbing the keys before you forgot and sprinted the short way where you heard your mother.

You almost lost a flip flop on the short journey as you ran. You cussed and slipped it back on.

“I should have you arrested for-”

“Oh cut it out, mother, ain’t nothing you can get him arrested for.”

His eyes turned to you and you swore they widened slightly. You couldn’t get over just how blue his eyes were. But you couldn’t get weak kneed in front of your mother.

“Connie-” he started, holding his hands up.

“Don’t you Connie me. You’ve corrupted my daughter. You had the police over to my house to question me about Mike, over the absurd claims you’re making.”

“Mother! I told you to stop!” you grabbed her arm to pull her back. She jerked her arm away from your grasp. It happened quickly. Too quickly for you to comprehend. Her hand raised and came whistling down. The sound was awful as her hand connected to your cheek, your head snapping back.

Your own mother had struck you. Never before had that happened.

“You are my daughter. Remember that. You don’t get to tell me what to do. Sometimes hard discipline is needed.”

You looked at her shocked, holding a hand to your burning cheek.

You felt Misha grab your arm and pull you back. You both spoke at the same time.

“So what, you’re going to keep harassing him until he pulls out an injunction on you? Is that it?”

“Don’t you dare hit your daughter!”

Your mother didn’t answer, instead she walked back to her house. You wanted to shout something after her. You didn’t. But Misha did.

“I saved your daughter, from something she didn’t believe in.”

He had. You couldn’t deny. She opened the door and stepped inside without looking back shutting it, sealing her in her own world.

His hand slid down and held your hand. You let him. It calmed you.

“Let me get you an ice pack for that.”

You looked at him. His jaw tensed and his eyes blazed and for a second you were worried he would go right on over to your childhood home and pound on the door and tell your mother straight. He didn’t. his expression softened and you don’t know why, but it made you feel worse.

You unlinked your hand from his and his eyes turned down in sadness. Your heart gave a painful pang in your chest, and you felt a loss and inside felt slightly hollow, which you chose to ignore.

“I should go.”

“Y/N…”

You took one step away from him. Now wasn’t the time. You gave him one last look before walking back to your car.

“Please, talk to me.”

You pretended you hadn’t heard him. You pretended you hadn’t heard his low sad voice. Every step away from him made your heart lay heavy in your chest. And it hurt. It didn’t feel right. Already the tears were stinging your eyes. You wiped at them quickly. You sat in your car and started it, driving away before Misha had the chance to catch up to you. Your heart tore for leaving him behind.

You saw him in your rear view mirror, standing there, one hundred percent crestfallen.

You couldn’t sleep. You mind kept relaying his forlorn expression. Hopeless eyes, slumped shoulders. He was a sad puppy. All he wanted was to talk and you had bolted, scared of confronting your feelings. You sighed and rolled over. He hadn’t sent a text since and it bothered you. It was clear he was waiting on you. He had done all he could. You on the other hand, had to be brave and rise up.

At 2AM you sat up in your bed. Sleep wasn’t coming. It was inevitable. You swung your legs over the side, pulled on pajama pants, slipped on flip flops and put on your trusty jacket.

You knew this was something you had to do. You couldn’t put it off any longer. You grabbed your bag, checked your keys were in there and headed out. You made double sure your door was locked.

You started her up and pulled out into the night. Your hands gripped the wheel as a thought occurred. What if he closed the door in your face? You doubted it somehow but it was possible. The worry slipped down causing unease in your stomach turning it into anxiety.

You pulled up and killed your engine, making everything go dark. After wiping your clammy hands on your jacket, you pulled open the door and stepped out, shutting it behind you. The walk to his front door wasn’t very long at all. But it felt it, in your heart and your stomach. God this was so stupid. You had no reason to be anxious. Or nervous. Buck up. You could do this.

You pressed his doorbell. It rang loud in the quiet night. You stood there, not entirely sure what to do with yourself. A little awkward. And thinking it was kind of a bad idea. Scratch that. A stupid bad idea.

You didn’t get the chance to collect your thoughts as the light came on and the door opened.

You stood there, mouth slightly agape, heart beating tenfold. Nausea in your throat. He stood in his boxers and blue dressing gown on but not tied, shock in his tired eyes.

“I couldn’t sleep.” you got out. Your throat insanely dry. You stood there for what felt a long time, looking at him, him at you. You wanted him to say something. Do anything. Reality hit you as you remembered you were in your pajamas. You had driven to him without bothering to get dressed.

“Say something…” you whispered, desperate to not feel like a complete dope.

He reached out and pulled you in. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in tight. You succumbed to his hug. You needed it. He was warm and smelled good, like his favourite cologne and something that was distinctively Misha. You held on to the sides of his dressing gown, feeling the soft thick material between your fingers, your body pressed against his. His heart beat comforted you and you could feel your eyes getting heavy. He was so warm.

The door clicked shut. You pressed your forehead to his chest, just listening.

“I messed up, Mish’.”

“Shhh.” he hushed. You looked at him.

“I did.”

“You didn’t, of course you didn’t.” he whispered, his hands reaching to hold your face.

“I,” your voice cracked and your eyes brimmed with tears. You closed your eyes, letting your face look down. His hands cradled your face and you leaned into his touch. You hitched in a breath, squeezing your eyes tight shut as you fought to get the words out.

His lips pressed softly to your forehead.

“I understand now. You were only protecting me.”

He tipped your chin up with his thumb and forefinger. “It was a hell of a long week without you. It cut me open to see your heart shattered like that. It hurt me to think you thought that,” he stroked back your hair, an action that made you close your eyes. “All I wanna do is put them back, piece by piece.”

“I love you, Misha.” you murmured thinking out loud.

“What?”

You snapped your eyes open, avoiding looking at him, heart frozen as you realized the words you had uttered. What if he didn’t feel the same way? You knew he cared for you, that didn’t mean he loved you. Your eyes flicked up. His were impossibly wide, and he looked like he had been smacked with awestruck wonderment.

“Love the way you care for me.” you covered.

He smiled. Probably the first in a week, you suspected. It was sunshine when he smiled and it filled the cracks of your heart. It made you want to smile too.

“It’s okay. I love you too.” he said soft and breathlessly, closing the space between you both.

His head dipped, his hands resting just below your ears , his thumbs stroking your cheeks. Your eyes couldn’t stop looking into his blue orbs. His lips brushed against yours and you held your breath, your eyes slipping shut and your hands lifted.

His lips were firm, yet the kiss was soft and slow, comforting, as your feelings were laid bare. You held the sides of his dressing gown, now standing on your tiptoes wanting to be that little bit taller, to be just that little bit closer.

Euphoric warmth blossomed through your body as the kiss continued. He was gentle as his lips caressed yours, a complete contrast from the time at Track.

He pulled back much too soon for liking, threaded his hand with yours, resting his forehead against yours, your breathing levelling, and together you went upstairs.

Was it official? You didn’t know. But you knew that laying next to Misha was enough. For tonight. His arm draped over your waist, as you rested your head on his chest. His hand found yours and you held it, becoming drowsy listening to the steady rhythm of his heart and the even rise and fall of his chest.

Lead Me Into Temptation Tags:

@sparklingcas, @spn-impala, @assass-is-here, @iraniq, @spnislyfe, @xthelittlethings, @wrthyofluv, @divadinag, @lauuerodz, @sabsi2222, @somethingwickedthiswaylives, @emycakes4457, @pwoperfangirl, @castiel-savvy18, @dontbelasagnax, @starletzombie, @fanngirllaf, @wontlookaway, @castiels-bro, @livia-de, @foxfreakinmulderr, @earthtokace, @mishapanicmeow, @impala-dreamer, @mypassionsarenysins, @castieliswatchingoverme, @doritoevansxwinterschildren, @one-to-beam-up, @debonaircas, @goodgodimaweirdperson, @hisbabybear2718, @gabriels-trix, @goobykeding, @gravedollie666, @theropode, @lilmadfree

#Lead Me Into Temptation #misha collins #misha #misha smut #misha fanfiction #misha x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural fic #spn #spn fanfic #spn au #spn rpf

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sweetlifetownsville · 5 years

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Solicitor Barry Taylor's Former Business Mate Gets Two And A Half Years In The Jug

The row over the state governments somewhat clunky internal factional power play about the protection of the Black Throated Finch habitat which is apparently threatened by the Adani Carmichael mine project is a right old knicker twister. The Astonisher iditor Jenna Cairneys dainties have taken a hell of a contortion, forcing her yet again into unintended humour. First we had two News Corpse journos in the same edition of the paper making exactly opposing claims about the birds. One, The Astonishers John Andersen, who knows about these things being a straight down the line bushie, quoted some of his widespread old timer country contacts that the bloody bird was everywhere, always had been, not just near the mine site. In the very same edition, the Astonisher had lifted a piece by tired old Courier Mail click-baiter Des Houghton trying it on that the bird would become extinct, killed off by feral animals (cats and pigs apparently) if the Adani land set aside for its protection area DID NOT PROCEED. Ando is the far more believable in this face-off, rather than the Alan Jones-Lite Houghton, who didnt explain how the dreaded cats and pigs would be kept out of the protection area signage perhaps?. The finch has become our own native Scarlet Pimpernel: They seek him here, they seek him there, Those pollies seek him everywhere, Journos seek him near, they seek him far, Under sun and under star, They try so hard, but they try in vain, For he eludes them yet again. But Bentley was there to record a meeting between avian cousins to solve the mystery.

Then enter the obviously discombobulated Astonisher iditor Jenna Cairney, the very same Jenna who gave a good laugh in a recent iditorial when she insisted the Bulletin only did fair and balanced reporting. Deputy Premier The Treacherous Trad came to town to talk about flood recovery measures during the week, asking what could be best done for the victims, but the Astonisher wanted to talk about the Black Throated Finch. Trad swatted away a few weak attempts to engage on the matter, somehow judging that the governments flood recovery measures were surely the overriding topic of the moment. Boy, didnt that make Jenna stampn her feet in rage, she saw red, and fired off a blistering iditorial, suggesting, (topically if unfortunately), that we were being sold down the river which is where a fair amount of Townsville ended just a few days ago. But then, right in the middle of this foot stamping tantrum, this little thigh slapper popped up from nowhere.

A moment,please (gasp, wheeze, splutter ahem, sorry.) Leaving aside the absurdity of this virtue-signaling boast, this twaddle comes from an iditor who wagged a finger at those who have had the temerity to raise questions about the handling of the flood emergency.

Even your southern betters arent buying that one they can apparently walk and chew gum at the same time, handling more than one story at once heres just one instance from the Courier.

Heres a newsflash, dearie the days of outfits like the Bulletin being the gatekeepers of information are long gone, and you no longer set the news agenda. Some Say The Council Over The Years Has Had A Lack Of Vision Any inquiry into the handling of the flood is should not be restricted to just recent events themselves, but should surely delve back into council building policy and approvals over many years, to see why so many inappropriately designed structures, both private and commercial, were allowed to be built on clearly identified flood plains. A Nest read sent is a photo that might help explain the problem he believes this is the TCC building where these decisions were made.

Mayor Mullet Jumps On The Boycott Bandwagon Again Ms Cairney, under your newly announced tough question policy, any chance of asking Mayor Mullet about her bogan bluster that if insurance companies use southern tradies to do repair work in Townsville, she will name and shame them.

Even your own reporter, Clare Armstrong (the soon to join the Sydney Telegraph), described this piece of electoral grandstanding as extraordinary. Embarrassing empty threat might have been just as apt. Talk about Qantas boycott redux this implicitly means that your paper, Jenna, will have to be the mayors bully pulpit in this naming and shaming exercise of companies that are major News advertisers, going about their legal business funded by shareholders, and who couldnt give a fig about Mayor Mullet and her barroom style bluster. You OK with that? Or is there the odd tough question you might like to ask your pal the mayor? Naming and shaming? The bottom line, if it is followed logically, is that Mayor Jenny Hill is on the boycott bandwagon again, threatening to call for a boycott of companies who legally, if not morally, use outside tradies for whatever reason (like legally binding existing contractual arrangements). Given her shoot from the lip bravado over several issues recently, Mayor Mullets big stick is in reality a squizzle stick: she must have quite a supply of used lying about. And You Can Add Casual Racism To Her CV, Too Another shoot from the lip, when talking about the two blokes who drowned while ruinning from the police.

You cant pick your family members? What the hell does that mean? Judge Jenny at her best. Sorry, what was that? Oh, yeah, right, forgot, Palm Islanders dont have a vote in Townsville local elections Well, remember, all you other folks, you can choose your mayor soon, up to you. Ghosts Of Mates Past Coming Back To Haunt Bazza Taylor

Big Bazza Taylor As reported here recently, solicitor Barry Taylor was once briefly in business in Townsville with convicted briber Wayne Myers. During the week, Chief Judge Kerry OBrien gave Myers two and a half years in chokey, to be suspended after six months, for greasing the wheels of corruption with council and contractor officials in Ipswich.

As reported here recently, back in the early 2000s, Myers and Taylor tried to start a local teleco company with the council, with Barry charged with roping in local bizoids to pony up $20k each for the venture. The then Mayor Tony Mooney saw the scheme was a financial rip-off, and knocked it on the head. While hes living down that little episode, Bazza now waits to see how big will be the embarrassment of another of his erstwhile clients, Craig Gore. The question here is which will be the biggest embarrassment , Gore refusing to keep his promise to return from Sweden to face trial on multiple fraud charges, (how he was allowed to go only God and a Brisbane judge know), or if he does show up (ring Tab Extreme Bets for the odds on that), is found guilty and cops an expected dozen or more years for his grubby rip-offs. Gore was squired around town by Bazza also in the 2000s, while the shyster was spruiking the completely impossible canal estate scheme in front of the casino. To the best of The Pies knowledge, Taylor had no stake in the venture Gore was only here for a short visit but if Bazza had any sense of shame, he wouldve been red faced when all that turned to highly questionable shit. Probably not, since he only hosted the grub to brown-nose his Labor pals in Brisbane. Wonder if Baz will lead the defence in the unlikely event that Gore does return. Probably not, not at Bazs prices. Puppy Love It was Valentines Day during the week, and public mawkishness was all around, it was unavoidable. But then The Pie discovered that zoos around the world they all regularly stay in touch to talk shop had decided that their animals had been left out of the annual love fest long enough. From San Diego to Sydney, to London and all points around the globe, this was the very punny result.

Lets get straight to the point anyone want a shag?

Stop! Youre making me tawny!

Talk birdy to me.

So glad we could support each other on this day, because as they say love is a cattlefield.

Of course I mean it! Id love you to the baboon and back.

Alpaca my bags.

May our love never tapir off.

Seal-iously, we think youre all keepers. A Warning Sign In These Trouble Financial Times

And our gallery of the week from Trumpistan

Finally The Pie normally likes to leave you laughing with a parting joke, but lets break from that rule this week, and ask you to think about this emotive tweets rarely penetrate the Magpie necessary cynicism , but, perhaps because he the father of a daughter, this one hit home for the old bird. Simply but shatteringly highlights the horror of being a school kid America, and the damage being done to an entire generation. It also shows why we are a far saner and safer society, natural disasters and all, here in Australia. A mother in Delaware tweeted this during the week. So my kids school had a genuine lockdown today. Some whack job called in a bomb threat Police came and everything was fine, Thank God! My guys seemed fine when they got home and they talked about it with me, and told me their versions of what happened and then went right into their homework and normal after school stuff, and all seemed fine. It wasnt until later when Vanessa was changing out of her school uniform that I saw this on her arm.

I say to her, why did you write that on your arm?She says, in case the bad guy got to us and I got killed, you and daddy would know that I love you, and she started to cry (as did I as I watched a little piece of her innocence get stolen away) To know that my 7yo was put in a position to think that thought is absolutely gut wrenching and its killing me inside.Its now been a couple hours, and I cant seem to shake this awful feeling, feeling of sadness, fear, and plain disgusts for this new normal our kids have to deal with on any given day..its a very scary and disturbing society we now live in, and its heartbreaking It certainly is. What have they wrought? Its unfathomable. .. A tumultuous week gone, and all The Magpies thoughts to those getting their life back together. Have your say about anything on the blog comments, they run 24/7. http://www.townsvillemagpie.com.au/solicitor-barry-taylors-former-business-mate-gets-two-and-a-half-years-in-the-jug/

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holbyconfessional · 7 years

Text

Holby City S19E38 - Paper Wishes

Jac ruled tonight. That stone-cold-bitch-who-hasn’t-slept-because-of-the-anguish-I’m-denying-I-feel look actually works pretty well for me. Which is good, because I needed something positive in a generally sloppy episode. Particular favourite was the totally out of character paper aeroplane at the end. Contrived, sure, but hell, it worked!

Sadly, now I must rant. I was not impressed to witness Ric’s phone call to Serena. Would it have killed the writing team to have Bernie do it? There barely been even a nod thrown to Serena since her absence, (just the odd mention that Bernie’s had a tough time), and no indication whatsoever as to whether Bernie and Serena are keeping in touch during Serena’s sabbatical. I have to think, following this episode, that the answer is no. Because surely otherwise, it would be Bernie keeping Serena informed about such things? Therefore, I must say, shame on you, Holby Team. That’s all.

Another thing, I had a sick feeling in my stomach that they were thinking to throw Fletch and Donna together. This was before she made the crack about the friction turning to shagging... Say that the inclusion of that comment was to diffuse such thoughts? Someone, please, say it ain’t gonna be so?

I suppose Morven is the obvious choice to be the one to go most off the rails after Jasmine’s death. I wonder whether Cameron is still in the wings anywhere? A mention there might be nice too.

Sacha and his blind date. It’s about bloody time something went well for that poor but very decent chap. Let this be it? Although again, several weeks ago he was rock bottom depressed, and since, has there been a mention? I think not. More sloppy.

Finally, Fran. Shudder. Leave Jac alone!

#unusually negative #my opinions only #BBC holby #holby city #Jac Naylor #Jasmine Burrows #Serena Campbell #Bernie Wolfe #Ric Griffin #Adrian Fletcher #Donna Jackson #morven digby #Sacha Levy #Fran Reynolds #buckle fandom

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ignisaurumprobat19-blog · 7 years

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Betrayed (full story)

initially published on r/WritersOfHorror

He looks pale. Blood is dripping on the floor much slower now. One. Drop. At. A. Time.

He looks at me with his tired, hooded eyes. No, wait, eye. When he tries to speak, his words are blurred :

« You... You're a demon. »

I start laughing.

Even in 2017, I still get them from times to times. They're desperate pleas, often barely understandable, whispered among sobs. I wonder what made them turn to me. The lack of answer from the others, for sure, and some late-night search for anything that could help. I suppose having a Wikipedia page helps, in this day and age.

I got one last night. She was crying. They always are. She said she had no one else to turn to.

« Please, please... My marriage is over... I gave him 20 years of my life and now he wants to leave me with nothing ! Nothing ! For that bitch ! Please help me, I beg for your rescue, I... I will be your obliged forever. Amen ».

Amen. Stupid, ignorant bitch.

I am going to help her, though. Sisterhood.

Her husband's name is Richard. He's fat and he looked so arrogant when he stepped out of the elevator in the underground parking.

He doesn't look that smug, now, does he ? Naked and suspended by his wrists in this motel room, his big belly hanging comically. It's been two hours since I started with him. Not long to go now.

I started with his lips. He kept yelling, and yelling, as if someone was going to come rescue him. Tough luck, Richard. There's no one but the motel receptionnist, who has earphones in and who, even if he heard you, wouldn't lift a finger. I've told him we were lovers and very, very much into BDSM.

So, his lips. I ran my blade on his lower lip and asked him :

« Do you kiss your mistress with those lips, Richard ? Do you like it ? »

He stopped screaming then.

« My-my, my mistress ? I, I, no, what, please, what...»

I cut his lower lip open. All the way, horizontally.

He started screaming again, of course. That fucking piece of shit.

I punched him hard to make him stop.

« Your wife is really sad, Richard. She gave you two beautiful kids, Richard. She gave you her best years ! Aren't you grateful, Richard ? »

« I am, I am grapfful, I am ! »

Damn. He was spitting blood all over me, that bastard.

« Oh no you're not, Richard. If you were, you wouldn't be shagging your assistant, would you ? And you're so unoriginal with that. »

I smile and cut a thin, clean line across his torso, slicing open his nipple.

« Males. You're all the same. Dirty, stupid cheaters. And you think we won't notice. You think we won't get revenge. You think we're stupid. Do I look stupid to you, Richard ? »

He looked terrified as I paced back and forth in front of him.

I stabbed his right arm.

« NO ! NOOOO ! PLEASE !! STOOOOP ! »

I chuckled. I like being begged.

« Oh Richard. You should have thought about it before. It's too late now. Your wife is going to be alone, and you know she can't afford that, yeah ? And you have this nice, plump life insurance waiting at the bank. Would be a shame to let your wife in need, right ? »

He was panting.

« She.. She hired a hitfffman ?? Thfffaaat bitchhhfff ! She... »

I grabbed an handful of his belly and cut a big, heavy slab of fat. That shut him up.

« That's not a nice way to talk about the woman you married, Richard. »

He was still awake by then. Not fully conscious, but awake. I had to keep him awake. I still had questions for him.

« Why did you cheat on your wife, Richard ? Wasn't she good enough for you anymore ? »

All I could hear was gurgles. I took him by his hair (or what's left of it, this old, ugly, nearly bald bastard) and lift his head so he faced me.

« What did you say, Richard ? »

« I loffe her... Loffeee her... »

« Oh you love your wife now ? »

«Please... Karen... Karen ! »

Karen wasn't his wife's name. Oh no. It was his mistress' name.

Males.

« You want to see her again, Richard ? You want to see Karen again ? »

« Yefff... Yeff.. Pleafff... »

«Alright. With which eye do you want to see her, Richard ? » I put my blade close to his right eyeball. He shut his eyes closed, as if it would protect him.

« The left one, then ? As you want, Richard ».

My blade slided in like it's butter.

He was unconscious for 15 minutes after that. It's been a struggle to get him back to consciousness.

Once he got back, I started working on him again. Slowly.

I could have answered his wife's scream for help much quicker, sure. Justice is always my main focus, but I'm allowed to have fun in the process, right ?

He looks pale. The blood is dripping on the floor much slower now. One. Drop. At. A. Time.

He looks at me with his tired, hooded eyes. No, wait, eye. When he tries to speak, his words are blurred :

« You... You're a demon. »

I start laughing.

« Oh no, Richard. I'm not a demon. Quite the opposite, actually. ».

Before I get rid of him, I step closer. Stab him in the stomach, and twist. My mouth is near his ear now, and I tell him the truth.

« Your wife did not hire me, Richard. She just prayed.

I am Hera Krusothronos, daughter of Chronos and Rhea, betrayed wife of Zeus.

I answer when I'm called.».

#tw: violence #tw:gore #writers #writers on tumblr #horror #horror story #sixpenceee #that's some sixpenceee shit

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sweetlifetownsville · 5 years

Text

Solicitor Barry Taylor's Former Business Mate Gets Two And A Half Years In The Jug

Even your southern betters arent buying that one they can apparently walk and chew gum at the same time, handling more than one story at once heres just one instance from the Courier.

Lets get straight to the point anyone want a shag?

Stop! Youre making me tawny!

Talk birdy to me.

So glad we could support each other on this day, because as they say love is a cattlefield.

Of course I mean it! Id love you to the baboon and back.

Alpaca my bags.

May our love never tapir off.

Seal-iously, we think youre all keepers. A Warning Sign In These Trouble Financial Times

And our gallery of the week from Trumpistan

0 notes

sweetlifetownsville · 5 years

Text

Solicitor Barry Taylor's Former Business Mate Gets Two And A Half Years In The Jug

Labor influencer Wayne Myers getting jail time for his role in the Ipswich corruption scandal must be embarrassing for Big Bazza Taylor, the worlds most touchy solicitor when it comes to his business dealings. Mind you, Taylor did no wrong when he teamed up briefly with Myers in Townsville more than a decade ago, but unfair perceptions of guilt by association may be about to get worse for our much loved legal foghorn. Our receding floodwaters have revealed some home truths about the cupidity of our council, and the fallacy of the Bulletins tub-thumping agenda. Do you reckon that her call for a Qantas boycott was our mayors finest hour? Well, now the she who would be the Battlers Boedicia has gone one better threatening insurance companies with a big stick, which may well end with a more damaging push back than the Qantas call. But spite of all our tribulations, love was in the air during the week, when we endured that annual dork fest of bad poetry and unrequited lust known as Valentines Day and this year, animals got in on the act no no, you grubby lot, not like that, they just played it for laughs. But first Getting Even Since Indias gift to the desecration of Australian native bird life is the unpleasant Indian Mynah, somehow it seems only fair it is a native Aussie bird that is now taking its revenge on an unpleasant Indian miner. The row over the state governments somewhat clunky internal factional power play about the protection of the Black Throated Finch habitat which is apparently threatened by the Adani Carmichael mine project is a right old knicker twister. The Astonisher iditor Jenna Cairneys dainties have taken a hell of a contortion, forcing her yet again into unintended humour. First we had two News Corpse journos in the same edition of the paper making exactly opposing claims about the birds. One, The Astonishers John Andersen, who knows about these things being a straight down the line bushie, quoted some of his widespread old timer country contacts that the bloody bird was everywhere, always had been, not just near the mine site. In the very same edition, the Astonisher had lifted a piece by tired old Courier Mail click-baiter Des Houghton trying it on that the bird would become extinct, killed off by feral animals (cats and pigs apparently) if the Adani land set aside for its protection area DID NOT PROCEED. Ando is the far more believable in this face-off, rather than the Alan Jones-Lite Houghton, who didnt explain how the dreaded cats and pigs would be kept out of the protection area signage perhaps?. The finch has become our own native Scarlet Pimpernel: They seek him here, they seek him there, Those pollies seek him everywhere, Journos seek him near, they seek him far, Under sun and under star, They try so hard, but they try in vain, For he eludes them yet again. But Bentley was there to record a meeting between avian cousins to solve the mystery. Then enter the obviously discombobulated Astonisher iditor Jenna Cairney, the very same Jenna who gave a good laugh in a recent iditorial when she insisted the Bulletin only did fair and balanced reporting. Deputy Premier The Treacherous Trad came to town to talk about flood recovery measures during the week, asking what could be best done for the victims, but the Astonisher wanted to talk about the Black Throated Finch. Trad swatted away a few weak attempts to engage on the matter, somehow judging that the governments flood recovery measures were surely the overriding topic of the moment. Boy, didnt that make Jenna stampn her feet in rage, she saw red, and fired off a blistering iditorial, suggesting, (topically if unfortunately), that we were being sold down the river which is where a fair amount of Townsville ended just a few days ago. But then, right in the middle of this foot stamping tantrum, this little thigh slapper popped up from nowhere. A moment,please (gasp, wheeze, splutter ahem, sorry.) Leaving aside the absurdity of this virtue-signaling boast, this twaddle comes from an iditor who wagged a finger at those who have had the temerity to raise questions about the handling of the flood emergency. Even your southern betters arent buying that one they can apparently walk and chew gum at the same time, handling more than one story at once heres just one instance from the Courier. Heres a newsflash, dearie the days of outfits like the Bulletin being the gatekeepers of information are long gone, and you no longer set the news agenda. Some Say The Council Over The Years Has Had A Lack Of Vision Any inquiry into the handling of the flood is should not be restricted to just recent events themselves, but should surely delve back into council building policy and approvals over many years, to see why so many inappropriately designed structures, both private and commercial, were allowed to be built on clearly identified flood plains. A Nest read sent is a photo that might help explain the problem he believes this is the TCC building where these decisions were made. Mayor Mullet Jumps On The Boycott Bandwagon Again Ms Cairney, under your newly announced tough question policy, any chance of asking Mayor Mullet about her bogan bluster that if insurance companies use southern tradies to do repair work in Townsville, she will name and shame them. Even your own reporter, Clare Armstrong (the soon to join the Sydney Telegraph), described this piece of electoral grandstanding as extraordinary. Embarrassing empty threat might have been just as apt. Talk about Qantas boycott redux this implicitly means that your paper, Jenna, will have to be the mayors bully pulpit in this naming and shaming exercise of companies that are major News advertisers, going about their legal business funded by shareholders, and who couldnt give a fig about Mayor Mullet and her barroom style bluster. You OK with that? Or is there the odd tough question you might like to ask your pal the mayor? Naming and shaming? The bottom line, if it is followed logically, is that Mayor Jenny Hill is on the boycott bandwagon again, threatening to call for a boycott of companies who legally, if not morally, use outside tradies for whatever reason (like legally binding existing contractual arrangements). Given her shoot from the lip bravado over several issues recently, Mayor Mullets big stick is in reality a squizzle stick: she must have quite a supply of used lying about. And You Can Add Casual Racism To Her CV, Too Another shoot from the lip, when talking about the two blokes who drowned while ruinning from the police. You cant pick your family members? What the hell does that mean? Judge Jenny at her best. Sorry, what was that? Oh, yeah, right, forgot, Palm Islanders dont have a vote in Townsville local elections Well, remember, all you other folks, you can choose your mayor soon, up to you. Ghosts Of Mates Past Coming Back To Haunt Bazza Taylor Big Bazza Taylor As reported here recently, solicitor Barry Taylor was once briefly in business in Townsville with convicted briber Wayne Myers. During the week, Chief Judge Kerry OBrien gave Myers two and a half years in chokey, to be suspended after six months, for greasing the wheels of corruption with council and contractor officials in Ipswich. As reported here recently, back in the early 2000s, Myers and Taylor tried to start a local teleco company with the council, with Barry charged with roping in local bizoids to pony up $20k each for the venture. The then Mayor Tony Mooney saw the scheme was a financial rip-off, and knocked it on the head. While hes living down that little episode, Bazza now waits to see how big will be the embarrassment of another of his erstwhile clients, Craig Gore. The question here is which will be the biggest embarrassment , Gore refusing to keep his promise to return from Sweden to face trial on multiple fraud charges, (how he was allowed to go only God and a Brisbane judge know), or if he does show up (ring Tab Extreme Bets for the odds on that), is found guilty and cops an expected dozen or more years for his grubby rip-offs. Gore was squired around town by Bazza also in the 2000s, while the shyster was spruiking the completely impossible canal estate scheme in front of the casino. To the best of The Pies knowledge, Taylor had no stake in the venture Gore was only here for a short visit but if Bazza had any sense of shame, he wouldve been red faced when all that turned to highly questionable shit. Probably not, since he only hosted the grub to brown-nose his Labor pals in Brisbane. Wonder if Baz will lead the defence in the unlikely event that Gore does return. Probably not, not at Bazs prices. Puppy Love It was Valentines Day during the week, and public mawkishness was all around, it was unavoidable. But then The Pie discovered that zoos around the world they all regularly stay in touch to talk shop had decided that their animals had been left out of the annual love fest long enough. From San Diego to Sydney, to London and all points around the globe, this was the very punny result. Lets get straight to the point anyone want a shag? Stop! Youre making me tawny! Talk birdy to me. So glad we could support each other on this day, because as they say love is a cattlefield. Of course I mean it! Id love you to the baboon and back. Alpaca my bags. May our love never tapir off. Seal-iously, we think youre all keepers. A Warning Sign In These Trouble Financial Times And our gallery of the week from Trumpistan Finally The Pie normally likes to leave you laughing with a parting joke, but lets break from that rule this week, and ask you to think about this emotive tweets rarely penetrate the Magpie necessary cynicism , but, perhaps because he the father of a daughter, this one hit home for the old bird. Simply but shatteringly highlights the horror of being a school kid America, and the damage being done to an entire generation. It also shows why we are a far saner and safer society, natural disasters and all, here in Australia. A mother in Delaware tweeted this during the week. So my kids school had a genuine lockdown today. Some whack job called in a bomb threat Police came and everything was fine, Thank God! My guys seemed fine when they got home and they talked about it with me, and told me their versions of what happened and then went right into their homework and normal after school stuff, and all seemed fine. It wasnt until later when Vanessa was changing out of her school uniform that I saw this on her arm. I say to her, why did you write that on your arm?She says, in case the bad guy got to us and I got killed, you and daddy would know that I love you, and she started to cry (as did I as I watched a little piece of her innocence get stolen away) To know that my 7yo was put in a position to think that thought is absolutely gut wrenching and its killing me inside.Its now been a couple hours, and I cant seem to shake this awful feeling, feeling of sadness, fear, and plain disgusts for this new normal our kids have to deal with on any given day..its a very scary and disturbing society we now live in, and its heartbreaking It certainly is. What have they wrought? Its unfathomable. .. A tumultuous week gone, and all The Magpies thoughts to those getting their life back together. Have your say about anything on the blog comments, they run 24/7. http://www.townsvillemagpie.com.au/solicitor-barry-taylors-former-business-mate-gets-two-and-a-half-years-in-the-jug/

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