#why the hell is the centre console like that

[wolven91]

Hard & Soft

Graticus unlocked her front door and stepped inside as the door swept to the side. It was another fine day of being ‘security’ for the station with minimal issues. It wasn’t as busy as a station in taurian space, but in the shared or contested territories, depending on who you asked, there was enough to keep one busy.

Hell, when the ursidain in the marketplace had overstepped and started to wreck a stall in a tantrum, she even got to suplex the overgrown fat blob for a change. It was a far cry from her old career, but she enjoyed the little things. Like smacking around someone that deserved it. A good day all in all, she could ride this high all week.

"Pumpkin? I'm home!" She called out to her partner, a human, Don, someone she had known for several years now and who would be home by this time. A quiet sniff and a clearing of a throat before she heard a reply. She placed her toolbelt next to Don’s phone on the table near the door.

"Hey beautiful, I'm in the lounge." Came his light tone from within, although something was… off.

She pulled the scrunchie from her brown curly locks and slipped it down one of her horns to keep it safe in a smooth, practised move as she tromped deeper into their home. She frowned as she realised that she was hearing a wobble in her partner's voice.

Stepping into the front room she found her mate sat on the sofa with a game console controller in his lap.

"What have you been up to since you've got back?" She enquired with a soft smile, sharp teeth flashing. Graticus knew that humans were slippery. If you asked a direct question they'd clam up and no amount of prying would get the problem out. They may be one of the smaller of the known sentients, but they were far more resilient than many others. They’d shoulder any burdens they experienced on their own until they were eventually crushed.

She had to be careful about sniffing out why she could sense something was troubling him. She’d known him too long, had been through too much together for him to be able to hide his feelings from her. Even when he tried.

"Oh just messing around on the game." He said offhandedly. She glanced at the screen, then to the controller resting in his lap.

"Is that why you've been still long enough for the controller to go to sleep?" She asked in a firm, yet mildly accusatory tone, a fist rose and rested against her hip as she quirked an eyebrow down at him. She had only ever wanted what was best for him. And he, her, but he always seemed to put himself second. Those damned resilience and self imposed standards.

Unacceptable to Graticus. 

It was her job to protect her partner, it was more than just tradition for taurians, it was a comment on her abilities.

"Oh, no.. I've been messing around on my phone." He lied. She get a quiet snort to herself, she hated people lying to her. Even her Don.

"Mm, the one that's still on the sideboard near the front door?" She confronted.

He went silent. Dammit. She sighed and nodded, deciding how to help.

She walked back around to the rear of the sofa to a trunk that crouched there and retrieved a heavy, fluffy blanket. He was craning his neck round to watch her and realised her plan. He immediately tried to placate her as she walked back around to the front carrying the massive bundle. Graticus, both in her career as a security guard and as an ‘independent’ before, had no problem in taking her own actions to solve problems, Don wasn’t going to be able to talk his way out now.

"I'm fine, honestly, there's no need to-"

Putting an arm thicker than his torso around his waist and bodily lifting him into the air, she placed him over her shoulder, on top of the blanket. With her other arm she arranged the cushions that decorated the sofa to create a little nest for them both. His squirming did nothing to escape her grip.

She laid down in the centre of the pillows lengthwise across the sofa, arranging her little Human so he fell against her front. Finally she flicked the heavy blanket, more of a weighted blanket to her mate's perspective, but it floated down to cover them both.

Curling her massive arms around him, she dragged him into her chest and squeezed him. She finally let out a rumbling, deep sigh of contentment. Although her favourite part of the day was laying down with Don, this was for him, to send a message that his resistance would not outlast his passive adorable-ness that drove her to protect and cherish him. She would lay here, holding him against herself, stroking his hair, until he opened up to what was bothering him.

His taurian would chase him down relentlessly until he relented. Time didn't matter. She wasn't paying attention to how long it took for him to begin speaking, but when he did there was that wobble again.

"A customer had a go at me at work again today. I know I shouldn't pay attention to it, they're annoyed at the business not me, but I'm really trying and I just... it gets to me sometimes..."

Her past bubbled immediately back up to the surface, her claws extended and a short, sharp snort burst from her nostrils.

"I will break them in two. Who was it?" She demanded, being deadly serious.

"I don't know, just a customer. It doesn't matter." Shaking his head as he lay across her.

A minute or two passed as the pair settled and the stress of the day bled away.

"...do you remember what they looked like?" The human immediately sighed dramatically.

"Graticus, I'm not going to help you hunt down one rude customer. As much as that would be quite nice..." he explained with a chuckle as he buried himself deeper into the blanket.

There's that little bloodthirsty streak; he can pretend he's a helpless babe all he wants, she knew he always had a quiet danger floating just under the surface. It was always fun watching humans with a grudge. That resilience would come back in the form of a long, patient memory.

Graticus reminisced about their meeting. As she did, she went back to running a hand up and down his back using the short sickle-shaped claws to graze his skin as she placed her chin on top of his head.

A silence followed as he believed she had dropped the subject.

"What time did they leave the shop?"

"What? Why?"

"There are cameras along that promenade." She stated firmly.

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #taurian #Graticus #Don

[darklydeliciousdesires]

Runaway - Chapter Six.

I am so thankful to you all for your interactions, guys. Big, big love. All of the hugs! As usual, 40 notes to unlock the next part. I look forward to your commentary. I’m feeling a little blue this afternoon, so having something to cheer me up when you all manage to get to it keeps me going :) 

Previous chapters - Prologue  One  Two  Three  Four  Five

Taglist - In the comments, please DM to be added/removed

Words - 2,538

Warnings - 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“Oh, this better be good, honey child, for you to be dragging my fabulous ass out of bed at 8am on a Sunday, over here to god-knows-where-vile, on the morning after I get a call from your mama telling me you ran from your wedding!”

Hannah leaned over, kissing her cheek. “I thought you’d be pleased, about the wedding running?”

Shonda snorted. “Well, I am, but that still don’t explain why the hell I’m giving you a ride from the ghetto, or what you’ve been doing here all night, and who with, more pertinently!”  

She pointed over to the small driveway. “See that big, black Harley over there?”

“Yeah, kinda hard to miss. And what of it?”  

“Well, what I was doing all night was bouncing on the dick of the guy it belongs to.”  

A barrage of almost words and splutters left her bestie’s mouth, Shonda in absolute shock, even though it did sound like something fitting of Hannah. “Y’all better be buying me coffee and a big ole’ stack of pancakes to explain every single last detail of this over!”

“Done,” she confirmed, helping herself to a piece of red rope liquorice from the ever-present bag in the centre console. “There’s a diner not far from here. Head back to the highway and it’s about a half mile away.”  

Shonda shook her head, pulling out from the curb. “It’s never a dull moment with you, pumpkin.” While she drove, Hannah took her phone from her bag, knowing she had to deal with the abundance of messages at some point, so the car journey was as good a time as any.  

‘Hey Han. Tried calling but your phone is off, can’t say I blame you. I called Uncle Rob and Aunt Jackie, and they let me know you’d messaged them to say you’re okay and just needed some time. When you feel up to it, give me a call. Love you.’ Ben, her cousin. She messaged him back to say thanks for reaching out, and she’d be in touch when things had settled a little.  

‘Just messaging to say I’m here for you if you need me. God, it was insane after you left! Wendy went ballistic, you should have seen Jackie clap back at her, fuck, it was legendary! Steve’s kinda sad he missed it now! Come by for coffee when you’re able xxx.’ Ange, her sister-in-law, who regardless of the fact her husband had steadfastly refused to attend, had wanted to show support to Hannah, although she too was no fan of Michael.  

‘I cannot believe what you did to my son, you spiteful, selfish little bitch. How dare you embarrass him like that. If you were having second thoughts, was the altar really the place to act upon them, stringing him along like that only to turn and literally run? We welcomed you into our family with open arms, and this is the thanks we receive? You are a disgrace, and I suppose I should be thankful that I didn’t end up with you as a daughter in law. If I never see you again, it’ll be too soon.’ Wendy herself. She expected as much.

If she was honest, she couldn’t blame her for taking such a stance, Hannah putting herself in her shoes and thinking how she’d feel, should it have been her hypothetical son who’d been jilted. Her feelings would have been similar. No matter how controlling Michael had been, she acknowledged that she’d been very wrong to let it get as far as them standing next to one another at the altar, his treatment of her not excusing her actions at all.  

As soon as they arrived at the diner, those actions were immediately called into question by a very expectant Shonda.

“So, give me the details. Who is Harley guy and how, on your wedding day of all days, did you manage to end up in bed with him? Oh my god, where you having an affair with him or something, and he came and kidnaped you away from it? If this was anyone else, I’d be here with my jaw swaying in the breeze, but you? Well, my jaw is still swaying, but not as much as it perhaps would be. I know you and your impulsive nature of old, so yes. Tell me.”

“I will,” she began, smirking. “When you actually shut up for long enough for me to speak.”

“Don’t you be sassy with me now, Hannah Elizabeth Gray!”

“Okay, so I’ll begin.” She sipped her fresh coffee, feeling good for the smooth hit of caffeine. “No affair, to begin with. You know I would have told you. Anyway, I was at the altar, and it just dawned on me, the lack of family presence, you not there either, and why you weren’t there. It hit me, the size of the mistake I was about to make, and so I ran. That’s when I met Manny, who was on his motorcycle moving through the traffic, and called out to me, asked if I needed a ride. So, I jumped on the back, and he got me out of there, then took me to a bar. We had a great afternoon and evening together, and then I went back to his place and had the best sex of my damned life with him on and off for about seven hours. There, the end.”

Shonda’s eyes widened. “Not the end. I have questions, but seriously, I have no idea where to begin, I’m so stunned by this!”

“Then I will sit here quietly while the counsel prepares her notes.” She sipped her coffee, smiling over the rising steam, Shonda chewing back a smirk she couldn’t quite manage to hide.

“You’re bad.”

“Yeah, he said the same.” She received a gentle slap to her forearm for that revelation.

“I mean... I just...” She ran her hands through her long, wild hair, fanning her face before settling herself neatly once more. “So, you just went drinking with this Manny guy, then ended up in bed with him?”

“Yeah, that’s about the short of it,” she replied, looking down at the menu before her. Hmmm, bacon and eggs, or an omelette? She’d definitely worked up an appetite.

“And what about Michael?”  

Hannah shrugged. “Well, I think it’s fair to say I burned that bridge down to nothing but ashes. His mother sent me scathing message, but unless he’s left me a voicemail I haven’t listened to yet, then I haven’t heard anything from him. I only switched my phone back on this morning. I didn’t want to deal with it yesterday. I just wanted to forget the whole mess. I know I have to deal with it now, though. Now I’m out from under perhaps the most handsome, charismatic man I’ve ever met. Damn.” She grinned then. “No, dayum.”

Shonda leaned in close across the table. “Come on, then. Tell me about him.”

“Oh god, you’d have been cheering from the side lines. Tall, nice body, tattoos, Latino, real mix of gentleman and bad boy. He’s thirty-nine, originally from Arizona, but moved here about a year ago. He’s a member of the Mayans MC, he’s really smart and funny...”

“Woah, hold up!” Shonda grabbed her wrist. “You got your first Latino dude, and he’s a Mayan? Girl, what a score! I swear, every time I see those guys rolling through town, my snatch does a little quiver!”

Hannah almost blew out a mouthful of coffee at her quivering snatch comment, immediately referencing her go-to response from one of their favourite movies. “You’re terrible, Muriel.”  

“No, you are!” she laughed, rolling her eyes. “Are you gonna see him again?”

“Oh, god. I really don’t know,” Hannah confessed, widening her eyes a little. “I have so much wreckage to deal with before I even think of that. I don’t think he’s in the market for anything other than a casual hook up type deal, but to be completely honest, coming out of a six-year relationship in the way that I did, neither am I.”

“Could be fun, though, when you need another ride.” Hannah giggled at her statement, shaking her head softly as they were joined by the waitress, ready to take their order with a cheery smile. “Oh, if you need an alibi last night, just say you were with me. It’s where everyone would have expected you to have gone, and it means you don’t have to reveal anything you don’t want to. It’s no one's business but yours.”

Shonda’s offer had Hannah reaching for her hands, so very glad to have a friend like her. “Love you bunches.”

“Love you, too, pumpkin. Now, I require further regaling with your sexual escapades!” She chuckled softly before as any good girlfriend would, going into the details of her wild night with the handsome outlaw. Much too soon, it seemed, and she was back in Shonda’s car, being driven over to her apartment, promising her bestie she’d call and relay how the looming showdown between her and Michael went, kissing her goodbye before jumping out.  

She felt trepidation with every step she took, deciding to kill a little more time walking up the three flights of stairs to her third-floor abode, immediately noticing the pile of boxes outside of her front door when the hallway came into view.  

Hannah owned the apartment, it wasn’t in Michael’s name, so therefore he’d be the one leaving it. She was glad he’d begun that, as she was expecting some kind of protest there, an unwillingness to vacate the dwelling, borne of him wanting to make her flighty escape from their nuptials as difficult as possible for her. Michael very much enjoyed the entertaining of revenge.  

Pushing the door open, it hit something on the other side, Hannah looking to see suitcases packed. Her suitcases, Michael deciding to liberate them, it would seem. For the sake of not wanting to add further kerosene to the fire she’d lit right under his life, she made a point not to address it, scanning her surroundings to see if anything else that was hers by rights had been pilfered. All her furnishings remained, her books and her vinyl collection luckily were untouched, too.  

Placing her keys down on the breakfast bar, she walked up the small steps that lead to the kitchen area of the open plan apartment, the only rooms walled off being the bedrooms and bathroom, Michael emerging from the latter with a holdall bag over his shoulder just as she was spooning coffee grinds into the French press.  

“Where have you been? I tried calling.” Sharp, accusatory. She expected nothing less.

“With Shonda.”

“Hmph,” he sounded, raising his eyebrows. “Should’ve known it.” He rested the holdall down, moving to the other side of the breakfast bar, Hannah filling the kettle up before placing it onto the hob and igniting the gas. “Do you want to enlighten me over what the hell yesterday was all about, then, why you left me standing at the altar? If you’ve had second thoughts over jilting me, then I’m afraid you’re too late to act upon them, as you might deduce. You humiliate me like that, and I’m gone.”

Talk about stating the obvious.

Reaching into her little bits and pieces bowl, she took out a small hair scrunchie, tying up her slightly messy waves before beginning the explanation he was owed.  

“I know I should have come to my realisation much sooner, and I take that on board, I do. As for why, I realised I just couldn’t go through with it, living a life that is essentially on your terms. You decided everything for us, Michael, and a relationship shouldn’t be like that. It was as I stood in that church that I knew, with so few people around me whom I love, that if I married you, I’d be making the mistake they’d been warning me against.”

His brow furrowed, folding his arms. “Who would you have been marrying, Hannah? Them or me? Their opinion isn’t important.”  

Typical, for him to believe only what he thought bared any credence. “But it is. Because they were right, you’re not the man for me. Some women might like every last second of their existence micromanaged by their partner, but I’m not one of them. The expectations you put on me, the constant need to have your way in everything. I realised I was compromising myself for you, and I shouldn’t do that. I deserve better than that, but equally, I know you deserve better than being run out on,” she explained.  

“It was never an issue for you before.”  

Again, such a stance was one hundred percent typical of Michael. He had absolutely no capacity to be retrospective about how any of his own actions could have resulted in this, but for Hannah, it simply wasn’t her problem any longer. If he didn’t want to see it, then she couldn’t force him to. Best of luck to his next girlfriend, she thought. “Well, it should have been, and I think it always was, but it was easier for me to pretend like it wasn’t an issue. I’ve admitted to my wrong in this, if you can’t own your share then there’s nothing more I can say or do.”

“That’s because I don’t have a share. This was all you and your compulsive nature, one I tried to rein in a little by being the decision maker, to take the pressure off of you, to be steady for you. But apparently, you still fail to see that.” Turning it back on her, she might have guessed. He had a habit of doing that.  

She knew they’d reach zero in way of resolve, so shifted instead to practicality. “Do you want me to help you keep packing?”

He snorted. “Oh, you want me out of your life as quickly as possible, then?”

“Says he who’s already moved half of his stuff out,” she couldn’t help but mutter a little pettily, not prepared to be blamed beyond her fair share. “I just wanted to offer some help, that’s all. If it isn’t needed then that’s fine, I’ll leave you be.”

They didn’t speak another word to her as he ferried his stuff out, his sister turning up part way through, telling him she’d been able to hire a U-Haul, slightly bigger than he needed, Michael complaining about the extra expense. Catherine didn’t even look at her for the entire time she helped with boxes, removing all of Hannah’s things from the only pieces of furniture he’d brought with him upon moving in, the end tables and coffee table, Hannah browsing the IKEA website for replacements as she stood out of their way in the kitchen.  

With his set of keys thumped down upon the breakfast bar three hours later, shaking her from her furniture ordering daze, her former fiancé left her apartment without a second look, Hannah breathing a huge sigh of relief. It was over. Realising that lunchtime had come and gone without her even thinking of feeding herself, she scrolled through her phone, ordering from her local takeout.

She chose a pizza with everything on it.  

#manny mayans mc #manny mayans mc fanfiction #manny mayans mc imagine #manny mayans mc smut #manny mayans mc x ofc #manny montana #manny montana fanfiction #manny montana smut #manny montana imagine #manny montana x ofc #mayans mc #mayans mc fanfiction #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc smut #mayans mc fanfic #mayans mc fic

[ieatsmallorphansnamedtom]

Shane x farmer trying to team up in a video game? Either dating or still just flirting. Idk, I'm just thinking back fondly of the time my partner and I tried to do co-op portal 2 and kept accidentally, then purposefully killing each other.

Shane and the Farmer Having a Flirty Gaming Date

Ok so I have a few things to say.

1) yeah, so, hope you're not gone LMAO. i dont wanna go on a big 'im so sorry' spiel but yeah, i am sorry this took so long. this is from like 2022 i messed up bad 2) polls have rejuvenated me for a bit so hopefully i'll be back in business for a while

TW/CW: Swearing

I imagine you're playing some sort of modded version of an old game from your childhood or something. I don't imagine Pelican Town having a very wide selection of video games (if it has one at all), so you guys are pretty limited on what you've got. I also think Shane is more of an older console sort of guy. He prefers the 'classics.'

Still, this thing is modded/has a cheat code so it's a whole new game. It's also extremely buggy. Your characters are zipping around left right and centre with almost no way of controlling them. Safe to say this game held up a lot better in your memories.

Still, it's a fun experience! You two start to work out what ticks off the bugs and glitches and start triggering them while the other is in the middle of a puzzle to piss them off. It's starts with you doing it, but then Shane (who knows this game much better) starts making your life hell and nearly crashes the thing. He probably ends up soft-locking you somewhere (forgive me on my lack of knowledge on Gamer Terms).

Anyways, you do have to beat the game. That's why you came here, right? So, you two try your best to get through this (quite honestly) insufferable experience.

When you think of this game, think of the worst physics possible. Either gravity is at zero or one hundred (whatever's funnier for you) and each jump is like a deal with God. I cannot begin to explain to you how many times you had to redo this one level because of how much of a bitch it was being. It was funny at first, but eventually Marnie had to come in and tell you to shut up because Jas was trying to sleep.

However, with these janky physics comes some flirting! And by that, I mean we have the classic love-interest-takes-your-hand-to-guide-you trope. Yeah, I'm not creative enough for this (L). But believe me, whether you're dating or not Shane's heart is doing a loop-de-loop in that little cavern in his chest. I mean, when you're already dating it's a little tamer, but it's still there!

Anyways, yeah, Shane ends up doing all most of the work while you sit there looking pretty. Still, it's a grand ol' time! You two get to relive your childhoods while absolutely decimating each other on the Gaming Field. The two of you really enjoy the time together, and agree to do it again sometime soon.

"It's a date."

-~-~-

#ieatsmallorphansnamedtom #tbh not as flirty as i would have liked but im just getting back into this and i needed this done #again sorry this took so long #but it's here so!!! ;;'_' #sdv #stardew valley #sdv shane #stardew valley shane #sdv headcanons #stardew valley headcanons #sdv x reader #stardew valley x reader #sdv shane x reader #stardew valley shane x reader

[cophene]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐌𝐄𝐓 | vento aureo; two.

☆ ⁺ « 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

pairing : vento aureo x gn reader summary : with virtually nothing left in their credit account, a gang of space thieves turn to the richest man in the galaxy to give them  a job worth millions. too bad those never come easy, even with stand abilities and a pretty-faced crew. notes : sci fi au, multi-chapter fic, sfw, doesn’t follow canon plot word count : 2.5k+

★˚⋆  YOU FLICKED THE TURTLE CARD OVER the Lady’s head and immediately ducked. Strobes of light shot through the air as Mista’s Pistols aimed the elector pulses at the goons, taking them out like bowling pins. You saw Trish hook a leg around the goon retraining her, sweeping his legs out from under him and neatly swiping his elector. She clipped the goon who came next over the temple, twisting out of his grip.

“Catch the turtle!” Lady Legarde screamed. Two elector blasts flared behind, knocking her forward. As you swung yourself out of the booth, Mista was sliding in to grab Narancia, jostling the Lady aside. Clenched between his teeth was the turtle card.

Showoff.

“Sorry I’m late!” Mista crowed around the card, hoisting Narancia over his shoulder. His yellow Pistols floated behind him, hurling obscenities at the goons they’d felled. The turtle was passed back to Trish, who grimaced and wiped it against her pants. Your crew then hightailed it out of the bar.  

“What happened to our pilot?”

“Sedative,” Trish answered, setting her elector to Incap. “Haul ass, guys. The Lady’s not going to be happy we took her turtle.”

Thankfully, there were only a handful people out at the late hour, and they were smart enough to keep out of your crew’s way. You darted beneath neon-lit storefronts, brushing away vape smoke from teens hanging outside.

“You really need to work on your aim, Cap,” Mista said. “Barely caught the turtle open back there.”

“Why don’t we stop and I’ll throw it again?” You were scanning the narrow streets for a Levi to jack into. Shouts rang in the distance and feet pounded the pavement.

“What’d the Lady do to piss you off? I thought you said you were reeling 50k from her.”

“Obviously, it didn’t work out.” Trish tugged the back of your jumpsuit, jutting her chin to a red Levi parked in front of a tattoo lounge a few feet ahead. You skidded to a halt in front of it, thanking the stars Fugo had downloaded the lock picker onto your holopad. It almost made the seven hours it had taken worth it. 

You swiped your holopad over the driver’s side door, then launched yourself in, unlocking the back doors for Trish and Mista. As soon as you heard the flump of Narancia’s body hitting the seat, you were tearing away from the tattoo lounge, sheepishly ignoring the yells that followed.

As you swerved around black-clad figures on hoverboards and raced through floating red traffic lights, Trish leaned over the centre console, swiping her fingers over the dash to bring up your contacts now that your holopad had automatically synced. She tapped on Fugo’s contact, then again when he didn’t answer.

“What the hell is he doing?”

You banked a hard left to throw the Levi onto a side street. You could see a cluster of black Levis in your rearview now, hounding your crew like a swarm of wasps.

“Get Narancia awake,” you said. “You two need to get these guys off our ass.” A few more turns and you’d be at the docking bay the Passione was waiting at.

A hard slap sounded as Mista brought his palm across Narancia’s face. Fugo decided to pick up at the same moment Narancia shrieked with pain.

“What’s—what’s going on?” Fugo’s voice sounded froggy. Stars, he hadn’t been napping, had he?

“Open the ship’s bay doors,” you said. “The deal was a bust. We still have the turtle and about five Levi’s on our tail. We’re headed to the ship now. The minute we’re in, you’re flying us out of here.”

“What!?” Fugo’s voice cracked. “Captain, the Passione can’t hover right now let alone fly. There’s massive fluctuations in the energy core. If we tried to take off, it would overload—”

“No time!” Trish yelled over him. “Get down to the engine room and muck around or something! It’s not like we can stick around right now!”

Fugo muttered a swear under his breath and ended the call. You weren’t that worried about him and the ship. If there was anyone who could get a half-dead ship in the air, it was Pannacotta Fugo. 

You just had to make it there first.

An elector blast took one of your side mirrors off, leaving a stub of melted metal. “Why are you not shooting yet?!” Trish screeched.

“Shoot the messenger,” Narancia slurred. It sounded like he’d downed ten beer cans back there.

“Uh, looks like our pilot’s too loopy to be shooting much of anything.” Mista rolled down his car mirror, leaning his body outside. “You sure it was just a sedative?”

You swerved to avoid a passing semi. A hail of elector pulses rammed into the back of it just a second later. The Pistols were screaming bloody murder as Mista fired off shots. Trish quickly passed over her elector when his energy filler went dry.

“The moon is beautiful tonight,” Narancia commented. When you glanced at him in the rearview, a huge, childish grin was plastered on his face. He’d better sober up enough to fly the Passione, you thought.

You muscled into a tiny space between cars to take the next exit. Flack, couldn’t these people move over to the shoulder or something? It wasn’t like there was a literal Levi chase happening right now or anything.

“Mista, you gotta take them out now, the loading dock is right ahead.”

“Man, screw this.” You heard Trish gasp and turned your head to catch Mista hauling himself out of the window to clamber onto the roof of the Levi.

“Are you crazy? What are you doing?” Trish yelled.

Mista’s Pistols shouted in unison. There was a loud pop and then the sound of tires screeching. A pile of wreckage receded in your rearview mirror; the procession of cars ramming into the first one as it skirted out of control. A stomach-pulling explosion rattled the inside of the Levi as Mista pulled himself back inside, yanking his hat back onto his head.

“And that’s how it’s done,” he said. You didn’t need to look back to see the shit-eating grin on his face. The Pistols cackled gleefully in agreement.

“Can someone turn down the volume?” Narancia whined. His head thunked against the window as you turned hard into the docking bay. The workers there scattered as you came to a halt in front of your beloved Passione. Fugo was hanging outside the bay doors, dark-blonde hair askew.

“What happened to Narancia?” He moved aside to let all of you pass, hitting the controls to shut the doors. He eyed their pilot swaying on his feet, a line appearing between his eyebrows.

“He’s not flying anytime soon,” Mista said, taking Narancia by the shoulder and heading to one of the side doors. “I’m taking him down to the med bay.”

“Can we get in the air?” you asked, taking a brisk pace to the bridge. “I’m willing to bet the Lady is on her way right now.”

“It’s gonna be close,” Fugo answered. “The engine and thrusters are at their limit. I’ve already rerouted power from all auxiliary systems, but we’ll have to make sure we don’t use too much or the ship will give out. The docking bay is elevated, so our best bet is to go as fast as we can on the runway and use that speed to get in the air.”

“Sounds like a plan.” The three of you took your places on the bridge: Fugo going to the far corner to the engineering station, Trish to comms, and you bypassing the captain’s chair to helms. It had been a while since you’d been in the pilot’s seat. The Passione’s controls hummed under your fingertips as you prepared her for takeoff.

“Take it easy, Cap,” Fugo called, hands flying over his control station. “I can add more power if the ship needs it, but that should be enough to get us off the ground. We’ll need the brunt of it to get into orbit.”

You spun the holographic wheel over your display, wrapping the ship around a corner to get out of the docking bay and coast over the runway. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed flying the Passione until now. Narancia was a fantastic pilot, but nothing could quite beat controlling your own ship. The little bars of speed on your display gradually increased. You leaned back in your seat, readying yourself to apply the thrusters and get this baby airborne.

Something knocked into the ship. Hard. Hard enough to make you veer off the runway. A red shape appeared on your radar to the starboard quarter. It was too small to be a ship. It looked more like a pleasure cruiser, the ones used by the uber rich when a Levi wasn’t enough. Those things barely had any power; more for show than anything else. Which was what made it impressive that it could knock the Passione like that. What was a tiny cruiser like that doing in a major docking port? How had it even gotten out here?

“Someone’s hailing us,” Trish reported.

“Ignore it,” you said. You raised the ship’s speed. Not much runway left. You’d have to go faster if you didn’t want to make tomorrow’s headlines ramming into the buildings below the docking bay.

The cruiser knocked into your ship again, not as hard, but it still knocked down the speed.

“Hailing again,” called Trish.

“What’s going on?” Mista made his appearance on the bridge, taking his seat at the tactical station. “Anything I have to shoot?”

“There’s a pleasure cruiser trying to knock us off the runway,” you said, gritting your teeth when the shape wouldn’t leave your radar. “Get them off our ass.”

“Say less.”

“Don’t go all out,” Fugo warned Mista. “The phasers aren’t at full power, and there’s definitely not enough for the torpedoes.”

Without warning, the bridge’s main screen window transitioned to a screen call. Lady Legarde’s huge face leered down at your crew. She’d taken off her hat and sunglasses. You sincerely wished she hadn’t, because her red face wasn’t much better to look at.

“Didn’t I say to ignore her?” you hissed at Trish.

“She overode me somehow,” Trish said back.

“Give me back the turtle and I won’t ram your ship to bits,” the Lady seethed. “Not that it would take much.” Upper Space manners out the window, it looked like.

“The deal’s off,” you called, jerking the ship to avoid another headbut from the cruiser. “We’re out of here.”

Lady Legarde’s face went ugly. “How dare you try to double-cross me? And you have the gall to call yourself the best in the galaxy? That turtle belongs to me. By stealing it, I have reason enough for Galactic Authorities to shut you down. You’re nothing more than a bunch of—” The call abruptly cut off.

“There,” Trish said, with a decisive tap on her display. “I’ve had more than enough of her today.”

Mista raised his voice. “So, are you thinking we go easy on this cruiser or what—” Everyone lurched in their seats as the cruiser rammed into the ship.

“We need to go faster, Cap,” Fugo said, his eyes darting over his display. “We’re not going to make it at this rate.”

“Just shoot her, Mista,” you said, working hard to right the ship’s course. You raised the accelerator as high as it would go, forgoing the gradual approach you’d been going for.

A muted boom sounded as Mista fired off one of the ship’s phasers. The red shape on your radar faltered, but didn’t stop.

Mista’s voice pitched in exasperation. “These things have no power! They’re like flacking love taps!”

“Well, either we take away from tactical or we don’t lift at all,” Fugo snapped. “That’s all I can give you. The thrusters are taking all we have.”

Mista grumbled something under his breath. You jerked the ship out of the cruiser’s way again. Just a little farther. You just had to go a little farther.

“Hang on!” you shouted. “We’re lifting off!”

The runway disappeared under your ship as you ran over the edge. You yanked hard on the throttle for the thrusters. Rather than feeling the low hum that was supposed to follow, your stomach left your body as the ship plummeted over the runway.

“Cap, the thrusters!” Trish shrieked.

“I’m trying!” You pulled on the throttle so hard you were afraid it would fly out of the panel. The ship kept plummeting, the buildings rapidly growing larger in the ship’s main window.

“Oh, you should’ve told me we were gonna die! I would’ve stayed in the med bay with Narancia!” Mista wailed.

You pulled on the throttle one last time at the same time Fugo swiped his arm across his display. In an instant, the thrusters powered on with that hum you’d been waiting for and the ship was hovering just a hair above someone’s very expensive condo. You were pulled back in your seat as the ship powered up, into the dusky blue of the sky and then out of the planet’s atmosphere entirely. When the ship didn’t immediately fall back on itself, you set the helms to the ship’s auto travel as the planet and and allowed yourself a breath of relief.

“Everyone alright?” you called.

“One, two, three, five, six, seven. Good, you’re all here,” Mista said, counting his Pistols for stars knew what reason.

“Nice flying, Cap,” Trish said, looking a little green around the edges. She ran a shaky hand through her pink updo. “Giving Narancia a run for his credits.” 

Fugo finally stopped his frantic tapping on his display, although the hard frown on his face remained. “Looks like we’re in the clear. Disregarding the fact that the Passione is in dire need of repairs and practically all of our power has been allocated to our thrusters. We’ll need to find somewhere to land within the next few hours at most. Preferably without a using Bend Gate.”

You shook your head, still jittery with adrenaline. You extricated yourself from the pilot’s seat and went over to gently tapped your engineer’s shoulder, giving him a wry smile when he looked up at you. “Why don’t we take a few minutes to regroup? Take stock of what exactly needs doing. I’m going to go check on Narancia. We’ll meet in the galley in twenty and plan our next moves there.”

“Yes, Captain,” your crew intoned in unison.

“And don’t forget about the turtle,” you said, retrieving the card from Trish. With a wave of your hand, the card dissipated and a turtle rested on your palm. “At the moment, it’s our most valuable cargo.”

“And I thought I was done seeing this ugly bastard,” Mista griped, going to swipe the turtle from you. It poked its head out from its shell, and, seeming to recognize Mista somehow, promptly chomped down on his finger.

“Careful, you’ll hurt his feelings,” Trish said.

previous chapter || next chapter || table of contents

#kismetva #jjba #jjba x reader #jjba fanfic #golden wind #golden wind x reader #vento aureo #vento aureo x reader #gender neutral reader #sci fi au

[imkittyjustkitty]

Kitty's Daily Pride — Day 11 — Part2/Bonus to This

prompt ; rain

pairings ; None really, but this is a bonus to an Ethan Green x Reader

summary ; How many times did you call how many different people? Someone of sound mind would probably say too many. Or in other words, all the instances in which no one answered your calls, and why they didn't.

+ reader is gender neutral (no pronouns used) & no mentions of y/n (no reader perspective because this is all the stuff that was happening on the other end of the phone that meant people couldn't answer reader)

warnings ; death, descriptions of dead bodies and wounds, car crash, Lex doesn’t have a good relationship with her mum (it’s a big part of the musical so ppl know this but i just wanna put a warning for people just in case), mentions of bullying/harassment

genre ; angst / kinda just spooky or sad depending on how you look at it

word count ; 1564

A/N ; stuff's been tough recently and my time for writing has been limited, but finally i finished something :D !!! so proud of myself !! <3 also new format for these which i prefer , i think it looks v funky !!! :D

do not steal, repost, or redistribute my work in any way.

7:15.

It’s like the screeching of a dying pig, the half broken phone crying for an answer. It’s wedged beneath his corpse, the ringing muffled by his body which lays over it haphazardly, combined with the blood that dried up in the speakers.

Wet blood no longer drips, now it just lays there, dried out, just like him, a thick river of it pooling from his open mouth.

He’s long gone, but his phone keeps ringing and ringing and ringing, begging to be picked up, begging to be answered. But no such luck.

He doesn’t rise from the dead to answer the desperate caller, he doesn’t ease their worries. No, he just lies there, another life lost in that hell of a shopping centre, his whole future thrown away in seconds.

A cruel, undeserved fate.

8:06.

“Someone’s calling.”

“Really, who? Let me see.” The dark haired girl leans over the console, gently taking her phone from her sister’s unsure hands.

Her phone screen is cracked beyond viable repair, and all she can make out is a few digits in the caller’s number.

She has to hold back a shudder, a sick feeling churning through her stomach. The numbers don’t look quite right, but still suspiciously similar to her mother’s phone number.

She doesn’t hesitate to dismiss the call.

She takes a deep breath, an action meant to calm her down, but instead pinches regret at her every junction as sharp pains stab at her sore throat and bruised torso.

Hissing in pain, she hand's her phone back to her sister.

The car swerves slightly as her attention briefly leaves the road. Her sister freezes up with wide eyes, terrified of what would happen if her sister's attention were to draw from the road again.

"Lex... Lex It's ringing again."

Cursing under her breath, Lex leans over to her sister, reaching for the phone. But it seems Hannah's too focussed on the screen, perhaps trying to figure out the number, to notice that Lex is motioning for her to pass the phone.

'Hannah he-"

Somewhere between one of Lex's hands leaving the wheel, and the road curving to the right, she slips towards Hannah and the car loses control.

Swerving in incomprehensible directions, Hannah squeezes her eyes shut, cradling her head in her arms, crying, begging that when she looks back up that everything will be okay.

But Lex freezes for a few moments too long, her eyes wide and wounded body rigid. Unmoving, frozen in terror, but her mind is reeling.

She lived long enough to get out of that fucking mall just to die in a car crash because someone refused to stop blowing up her phone.

Metal screeching. Heads meeting the dashboard of the car. Limbs thrown out the windows. Everything is flashing and bright, but also dark and all-encompassing. It's blinding and piercing and painful and unforgiving.

And yet her phone still rings, unaware of the horrors it’s bestowed upon the two girls.

8:41.

His phone sits on his bedside table. The calls are coming through of course, no internet issues, no funny coincidences with multiple people trying to get through to him at the same time. No, it's nothing about divine intervention, rather just the universe having a slight sense of humour.

Cruel humour, yes. Cold, unforgiving humour that costs lives and laughs at those who deserve help and pity. And not even those who deserve good things, but rather those who do not deserve such horrible things.

Of course the person calling this man does not deserve such a run-around from the universe. But the universe does not care, the phone still remains ringing.

And so he sleeps a peaceful slumber, blissfully unaware of the fact that he has been made a father without a child. While the only person who can perhaps warn him of something, try to set off an alarm in his mind, is left without a single thought.

He may find out through the police, a cold and brutal band-aid will be ripped off, he will be told matter-of-factly that his son is deceased, and the officer who delivers the news will see it all as just another unfortunate occurrence. Not a single semblance of emotional connection will those people have with his son.

Or maybe he'll never be given that piece of mind. Maybe he wakes up days after now and only then feels something may be off. It will lead to a town-wide search for his son, which of course will come up empty handed.

It's sort of anticlimactic, how the only thing that stands between this man and finding out that something happened to his son, is the fact that he puts his phone on silent while he sleeps.

9:01.

Not unlike him, her phone also rests on silent. She had shoved it under her pillow after too many messages. All angry, rude, condescending, all from family, employers, neighbours, supposed 'friends'. Everyone and their mothers tormented the poor women, and she was sick of it.

So she finds herself trying to push the bathroom door closed as quietly as possible, after a calming shower, trying not to wake him in the bedroom.

The second phone of the household makes it's debut, the phone that belongs to the woman that is desperately trying to lift the far too heavy weights off of her shoulders.

The phone vibrates far too quietly underneath the pillow, as the woman lets out a sigh from the hallway. For a moment, fate teeters from side to side, will or won't a phone finally get it's answer? The mythical scales bounce back and force, as the women does the same.

Does she go back to bed, and keep pretending it's all okay, her only reliefs being the nights she spends away from everyone else, thinking and willing herself to move on? Or does she stay here, where she can live in that place, her world of peace, for just a little while longer?

The phone begs for an answer, but the buzzing never reaches her ears.

She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes thoughtfully.

Her light footsteps don't make a sound as she turns and softly walks away from the bedroom.

The protective bubble she places herself in each night floats around her as she walks further and further away from the bedroom.

And so the phone continues to buzz, pleading for an answer that will never come.

9:13.

The ringing of the phone echoes through the empty shopping centre.

Did the owner of the phone deserve the death? Hey who the fuck knows anymore, he was an ass sure, but isn't death a bit far?

But that doesn't matter anymore. Yet another phone is left unanswered, it's owner's blood painting the floor, a canvas of crime and pain. His phone sitting in his pocket, untouched. After all, a dead person can't answer a call, that would be absurd.

The ringing sings on, whistling through the carvings of murder and suffering that lay in his bones.

9:34.

The ringing calls out through the stagnant halls of the house, a house that is currently inhabited by four people, but nonetheless soaks in eerie nothingness, a silence born out of unspoken fears and just plain awkwardness.

A man and a woman sit next to together, sharing a brief glance as they both hear a phone ringing. The man sighs, and gives the woman a look that says she needs to do something, this isn't his place to do anything, he doesn't really fit here. To be fair no one fits here at the moment, after all, there's a lot that's driven and continues to drive them apart, a barrier of stiffness.

Sighing quietly, the woman looks over to another man, saying, "Tom, the phone's ringing."

Tom looks up from where his shaking hands lay in his lap, furrowing his brows, before muttering something along of the lines of 'it'll be no one important'.

Subtly rolling her eyes, the woman leans in her seat to get a view of the ringing phone that sits on a small table beside the front door.

Another woman sits next to Tom, but with a still considerable (awkward) distance between them. She pulls her lips up into a small, closed mouth smile that practically radiates discomfort and the need to please.

"I'll go get it," She gets up from the couch, lightly placing her hand on Tom's shoulder, who at that glances up and watches her as she exits into the room where the phone still rings.

She goes to grab the phone, the screen showing her a number she doesn't recognise, when it goes silent and the screen fades to black. Tilting her head, she shrugs, and walks back to where the three adults remain in a palpable silence.

"They hung up before i could answer, probably a wrong number," She 'smiles' like she did before, remaining the only one standing among the four of them in the room.

Tom nods, his mind preoccupied, not fully hearing what the woman just said, or even comprehending the current situation.

The woman sits back down, and any hopes of conversation is gone. No one knows what to say, or if they should say anything at all, so they remain in the deafening silence.

At least the phone doesn't ring again.

reblogging helps me so much and means more people can see my writing !!! and i love hearing people's thoughts on my writing , it makes me so happy and helps me grow as a writer !!! &lt;3 :D

thank you for reading , have a fabulous day &lt;3

#ethan green x reader #ethan green angst #ethan green imagine #ethan green fanfiction #ethan green fanfic #hatchetfield x reader #hatchetfield fanfiction #hatchetfield universe #tom houston #lex foster #hannah foster #frank pricely #emma perkins #becky barnes #black friday x reader #black friday fanfiction #black friday musical #starkid x reader #starkid fanfiction #x reader #🌈 — kitty's pride writings #i'll be a leading lady if i get my shot — my writing

[legends-of-time]

Thorn Bush (Doctor Who Story)

Chapter 14: The Eleventh Hour Part One

Masterlist

The TARDIS flies out of control over London.  The centre console sparks and the control room is in flames and is exploding. The whole ship is turning upside down, spinning them around and around. The doors fly open, Kathy manages to grab onto the railing on the console but the Doctor doesn't manage to do the same. She looks around to find the newly-regenerated Doctor outside the TARDIS and hanging onto the edge by his hands, sonic screwdriver in his mouth.

The Doctor begins to pull himself into the TARDIS. Kathy runs over to help pull him back in, narrowly missing the top of the tower of Big Ben. There is another explosion, sending them both tumbling down. They manage to get up but are thrown once again and further into the TARDIS.

"Not the swimming pool!" Kathy whines just before they fall in.

She pulls her head up to see that the room is sideways. Kathy remembers that the Doctor had to climb out of the room with some rope. When she turns to him, she finds that he has already gotten the rope with the grappling hook on the end. He grins at her as he throws it as high up as he can. The Doctor tugs it and it seems secure. She notes that his clothes, Ten's clothes, are ripped and singed.

"Feel like climbing?" He asks.

Kathy smirks at him. "Don't have a choice, do I?" He carries on smiling. "Well, after you. I'm in a dress." A dress that is falling apart at this point. She understands why Amy calls her tattered.

The Doctor starts climbing, using the bookshelves. As they climb up the rope through the control room, Kathy sees that the TARDIS doors are already open for them. Everything feels weird to her seeing the whole place sideways.

The Doctor finally reaches the outward open doors and pops his head over the edge. "Can I have an apple?" He asks to, who Kathy can assume is, little Amelia. "All I can think about - apples. I love apples. Maybe I'm having a craving. That's new, never had cravings before."

"Can you ask for an apple when I'm not hanging in some rope?" Kathy calls from underneath him. "I can't hold on much longer."

"Sorry." The Doctor replies, straddling the TARDIS and leans back inside with an offered hand to pull Kathy up. She sits next to him on the TARDIS frame. Kathy turns to see little Amelia standing in front of them wearing a red jacket and matching wellies over her nighty.

"Are you okay?" Little Amelia asks them, her Scottish accent heavy with her words.

The Doctor puts both legs over the side, sitting on the edge and Amelia does the same, heaving her wet and heavy 16th century dress with her.

"Oh, just fine." She huffs.

"Just had a fall." The Doctor adds in. "All the way down there, right to the library. Hell of a climb back up."

Amelia frowns and looks them up and down as if to double check that the two odd people in front of her are actually soaked. "You're soaking wet." She points out.

"We fell into the swimming pool," Kathy explains.

"You said you were in the library." Amelia counters.

"So was the swimming pool." The Doctor tells her. Amelia rolls her eyes in apparent frustration.

"Are you police officers?" She asks them.

The Doctor stares at her in bewilderment. He leans forward. "Why? Did you call for police officers?"

"She has a crack in her wall," Kathy explains. "Don't worry we're here to help." Amelia beams and Kathy returns it.

The Doctor's expression holds great confusion. "What cra—" He starts to say, but cries out in agony, falling forward, off the frame of the TARDIS and onto the ground as he withers in pain.

Kathy gasps in alarm and hurriedly jumps down next to him. "Are you alright?" She helps him sit up. Amelia states in concern as the Doctor leans against the TARDIS underside, panting and wheezing. He's quick to give them a reassuring smile.

"No, I'm fine, it's OK. This is all perfectly norm..." He is cut as his body gives another spasm and opens his mouth and releases regeneration energy. Kathy pats his shoulder, trying to comfort him. Amelia stares in amazement and wonder.

"Who are you?" She asks, staring back and forth between the two strangers. "Both of you?"

The Doctor holds up his hands, energy rising from them. "I don't know yet. I'm still cooking. Does it scare you?"

Amelia frowns and shakes her head. "No, it just looks a bit weird."

"He means the crack in your wall." Kathy corrects. "Does it scare you?"

There is a slight hesitation before Amelia nods. "Yes."

The Doctor smiles brightly and jumps up, pulling Kathy with him. "Well, then, no time to lose. I'm the Doctor and this is Kathy. Do everything we tell you, don't ask stupid questions and don't wander off." He strides away with purpose. Kathy casually stands looking at her fingers, waiting for the impact. The Doctor walks into a tree, knocking him to the ground.

"You all right down there?" Kathy asks him.

"Early days. Steering's a bit off." The Doctor grumbles from the ground.

"Let's get you inside," Kathy says, pulling him up.

——

The Doctor and Kathy eventually get inside Amelia's house and watch as the little girl grabs an apple and then goes over to where they linger by the doorway of the kitchen. Kathy dries herself with a towel as Amelia hands over the apple.

"If you're a doctor, why does your box say "Police"?" Amelia asks as she stares at them curiously.

Kathy rolls her eyes as the Doctor takes a bite of the apple, chews and then spits it out before coughing. Amelia jumps back a step to avoid the food flying at her. "That's disgusting. What is that?"

"It's an apple, Doctor. Just like you asked." Kathy disputes. "Now because I don't want Amelia and I having to clean up your mess, I going to make this easier for you."

"Go on then, what do I like?" The Doctor grumbles.

"Well, not yoghurt, beans, bread and butter or carrots," Kathy answers as she goes over to the freezer. "But do like this." She pulls out a box of fish fingers and then pulls out a container of custard from the fridge. She shoves them at the Doctor, who gleefully takes them.

"You know my name," Amelia says to Kathy as the Doctor actually is sorting his food out like an adult. "How do you know that?"

"Well," Kathy hesitates as she doesn't want to freak out a 7 year old. "I am from a different universe and I was shown a version of this one."

"Can you see the future? Are you a psychic?"

"No, just like someone has given me a list of things that could happen but doesn't mean they'll happen or happen in that way." Kathy tries to explain.

Amelia frowns. "Okay."

——

Later, sitting at the table, the Doctor dips a fish finger into a bowl of custard and then takes a bite. Across from him, Amelia eats ice cream from the container. In the middle of the table, Kathy snacks on some Cherry Bakewells that she had found and feeling nostalgic, she had to have some. The Doctor then picks up the bowl and drinks the custard from it. It leaves a moustache which he wipes away with his hand.

"Funny," Amelia says as she watches him. The Doctor takes a bite of his custard covered fish finger.

"Am I? Good. Funny's good. What's your full name?" The Doctor asks.

"Amelia Pond."

"Ah, that's a brilliant name. 'Amelia Pond', like a name in a fairy tale." The Doctor replies, beaming. "Are we in Scotland, Amelia?"

Amelia lets out an exasperated sigh. "No." She grumbles. "We had to move to England. It's rubbish."

"So, what about your mum and dad, then? Are they upstairs?" The Doctor questions. "Thought we'd have woken them by now."

"I don't have a mum and dad. Just an aunt." Kathy gives the young girl a sympathetic smile thinking of her own parental loss.

"I don't even have an aunt." The Doctor says with a smile.

"I had a few aunts once," Kathy mumbles sadly. "Gone now."

"You're lucky." Amelia declares. Kathy gives Amelia a small smile.

"So, your aunt, she must be out then?" Kathy prods.

"As if you don't know already." Amelia retorts.

"Not everything is set in stone. I have to check." Kathy argues.

The Doctor looks surprised. "Your aunt left you all alone?"

"I'm not scared." Amelia retorts.

"'Course you're not. You're not scared of anything! Box falls out of the sky, strangers fall out of box, strangers dig through your kitchen and eat your food," he takes another bite of a fish finger covered in custard, "and look at you, just sitting there. So, you know what I think?"

"What?"

"Must be a hell of a scary crack in your wall," Kathy says. Amelia gulps at her words.

——

Hesitantly and cautiously, Amelia leads the Doctor and Kathy up to her bedroom. Kathy smiles when she sees the young girl grab an apple on the way and begins carving a face.

Kathy looks curiously around the bedroom when they enter, noting how different it seems from when she was last here, particularly the lack of Doctor and Kathy drawings and dolls. The most startling aspect of the room is the large crack in the wall.

The Doctor examines the crack, trailing his fingers along it. "What are you thinking?" He asks quietly.

"It shouldn't be there," Kathy says as she stands by him.

"You've had some cowboys in here." The Doctor says, glancing over at Amelia who remains standing by the door. "Not actual cowboys, though that can happen."

After a moment, Amelia walks over to the Doctor with an apple in her hand and hands it over to the Doctor. "I used to hate apples, so my mum put faces on them." She hands the Doctor an apple with a smiley face carved into it.

"She sounds good, your mum." He tosses the apple into the air and catches it then puts it into his pocket. "I'll keep it for later." He goes back to examine the crack, tapping his fingers lightly over the surface. "This wall is solid and the crack doesn't go all the way through it. So, here's a thing - where's the draught coming from?" He whips out Ten's screwdriver and runs it along the crack then checks the readings. "Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey. You know what the crack is?"

"What?" Amelia asks.

"It's a crack." The Doctor runs his fingers along the crack. "I'll tell you something funny. If you knocked this wall down, the crack would stay put, 'cos the crack isn't in the wall."

"You going to tell us where is it or not?" Kathy retorts with a raised eyebrow.

"Everywhere. In everything. It's a split in the skin of the world. Two parts of space and time that should never have touched, pressed together...right here in the wall of your bedroom." He presses an ear against the wall. "Sometimes, can you hear..."

"A voice? Yes." A voice echoes through.

Kathy decides to hurry them along. "Prisoner Zero has escaped. Which means that on the other side of that wall is a prison and they've lost a prisoner." She takes Amelia's hand tightly.

The Doctor steps back from the wall, a grin working its way onto his face. "Do you know what that means?"

"What?" Amelia asks.

"You need a better wall." The Doctor moves her desk out of the way as he talks quickly, "The only way to close the breach is to open it all the way. The forces will invert and it'll snap itself shut. Or..." The Doctor is standing next to Kathy and Amelia and now looks uncertain about his plan.

"What?"

Kathy kneels down, getting eye level with her. "You know when grown-ups tell you everything's going to be fine and you think they're probably lying to make you feel better?" She asks.

"Yes." Amelia sighs, nodding as if she is used to this.

"Everything's going to be fine," Kathy reassures, smiling at the girl. She retakes her hand and the Doctor grabs Amelia's other hand.

The Doctor holds up his screwdriver before turning to Kathy. "I think it's best if we do this together."

Kathy nods and holds up her screwdriver. Together they use their sonic screwdrivers on the crack. Amelia hides behind them but peers around them as a bright light shines through the crack as it widens. In the dim light, they can see what looks to be cells.

"Prisoner Zero has escaped." The Doctor takes a step closer to the crack. "Prisoner Zero has escaped."

"Hello? Hello?" The Doctor calls. Suddenly, a giant blue eye peers at them through the crack. Kathy jumps along with the other two despite expecting it.

"What's that?" Amelia asks, sounding frightened. Kathy squeezes her hand and gives her a smile and gets a small one in return.

A small ball of light or electricity shoots out from the crack, strikes the Doctor and he falls against the bed. The crack then seals once more.

"There. You see, told you it would close. Good as new." The Doctor says.

"What was that thing? Was that Prisoner Zero?" Amelia asks.

"No. I think that was Prisoner Zero's guard. Whatever it was, it sent me a message." The Doctor looks at the message. "Psychic paper, takes a lovely little message. 'Prisoner Zero has escaped.' But why tell us? Unless..." He stands.

"Unless what?"

"Prisoner Zero escaped through here it seems," Kathy says.

The Doctor frowns. "But he couldn't have. We'd know." He runs out of the room with Kathy and Amelia. The Doctor stands on the landing and looks around, confused. "It's difficult. Brand-new me, nothing works yet. But there's something I'm missing... in the corner..." he turns to face one of the doors at the other end of the hall, "...of my eye."

There is an echoing sound of machinery along with a deep bell. The Cloister Bell. Kathy and the Doctor share a panicked look.

The Doctor runs down the stairs yelling, "No, no, no, no, no, no!" With Amelia and Kathy following.

——

They run back into the back garden to the TARDIS.

"I've got to get back in there! The engines are phasing, it's going to burn!" The Doctor yells.

"But... it's just a box! How can a box have engines?" Amelia asks, not understanding.

Kathy frees the grappling hook and gathers the rope. "It's not a box. It's a time machine." She quickly explains.

Amelia replies disbelieving, "What, a real one? You've got a real time machine?"

"Not for much longer if I can't get her stabilised." The Doctor grabs the rope from Kathy. "Five-minute hop into the future should do it."  He loops rope through door handles.

"Can I come?" Amelia asks hopefully.

"Not safe in here, not yet. Five minutes. Give me five minutes, I'll be right back." The Doctor hops onto the edge and prepares to go inside.

"People always say that," Amelia says sadly.

Kathy turns away from jumping onto the TARDIS as well and looks into her face. "Look we'll come back, even if we take longer than 5 minutes. Okay?" She knows it won't take 5 minutes and hopes what she says will help.

"Trust us. We're the Doctor and Kathy." The Doctor adds with a wink.

Amelia smiles and Kathy climbs onto the TARDIS next to the Doctor. Holding onto the rope, they give Amelia one last look before jumping.

"Geronimo!" They yell. The TARDIS doors slam shut and dematerialise.

——

The TARDIS gives them some problems but eventually materialises in Amelia's back garden. Kathy had tried repeatedly to get there earlier but the TARDIS doesn't let her, determined to arrive 12 years late. The door opens and the Doctor and Kathy emerge amid billowing smoke, cloth held over their noses and mouths.

"Amelia! Amelia!" The Doctor runs towards the house, while Kathy walks at a slower pace. She glances at the not-so-new shed. It still has been way longer than 5 minutes.

"I worked out what it was. I know what I was missing! You've got to get out of there!" The Doctor uses his screwdriver on the door lock and it opens after a few tries. Kathy doesn't know why he didn't just use hers.

"Amelia?!" The Doctor runs upstairs with Kathy cautiously following, expecting a cricket bat at any moment.

"Amelia, are you all right? Are you there?" He goes immediately to the door that troubled him before and tries to open it with the screwdriver it doesn't work so he reaches into Kathy's pocket and grabs hers. "Prisoner Zero is here. Prisoner Zero is here! Prisoner Zero is here! Do you understand me? Prisoner Zero is..." he turns and is hit on the head with a cricket bat.

Kathy turns to the frightened woman. "No, Amelia, Amy, please!"

Amy pauses in surprise before whacking her as well.

——

Kathy slowly comes to, and, as her vision clears, she sees a female police officer in a very short skirt speaking into her radio.

"White male and female, mid to late 20s, breaking and entering. Send me some backup, I've got them restrained." Amy, Kathy realises, is speaking into a radio in a not-so-Scottish accent as the Doctor groans awake. "Oi, you! Sit still."

"Cricket bat. I'm getting cricket bat." The Doctor mutters.

"Me too." Kathy agrees. She rattles her wrists looking down at the handcuffs that are attached to the radiator. Mother like daughter.

"You were breaking and entering." Amy retorts.

The Doctor tries to stand seemingly not having noticed what Kathy had and gets caught causing him to stumble. "Well, that's much better. Brand-new me, whack on the head. Just what it needed."

"Do you want to shut up now?" Amy barks out in irritation. Kathy winces at the volume. "I've got backup on the way!"

"Hang on, no, wait- you're a policewoman." The Doctor says, now taking in her appearance.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Kathy remarks.

Amy gives her a sharp look before turning to the Doctor. "And you're breaking and entering. You see how this works?"

"But what are you doing here? Where's Amelia?" He retorts. He looks around as if expecting the little girl to pop out any second.

"Amelia Pond?" Amy questions, staring at him in interest.

"Yeah. Little Scottish girl. Where is she?" The Doctor demands to know. "We promised her five minutes but the engines were phasing."

"You promised her." Kathy retorts.

"Fine, I promised her." He grumbles. "I suppose we must have gone a bit far. Has something happened to her?"

"Amelia Pond hasn't lived here in a long time," Amy states curtly. Technically not a lie as Amelia is now Amy but still a bit of a lie.

"How long?" The Doctor questions.

Amy stares him down with an even expression. "Six months."

The Doctor's eyes widen dramatically and shakes his head in disbelief. "No, no, no! I can't be six months late! I said five minutes. I promised."

Amy narrows her eyes slightly, looking like she wants to retort angrily to this but she walks away, reaching for her radio.

The Doctor leans forward looking panicked as he pulls on the cuffs causing Kathy's wrist to bang sharply on the radiator. "What happened to her? What happened to Amelia Pond?"

"Sarge, it's me again. Hurry it up, this guy knows something about Amelia Pond." Amy says curtly into her fake radio.

Kathy groans rubbing her head. The cricket bat has given her a horrible headache and is making her feel irritated with Amy's performance. "Please Amy, will you just drop the act and the English accent? It sounds weird."

Amy whips round, looking pointedly at Kathy as if to tell her to shut it.

The Doctor glances between them, looking confused. "Amy? Who's Amy?"

"She is." Kathy points with her free hand.

"Your name's Amy?" He questions.

"Yeah. What of it?" Amy retorts, staring heatedly at them.

The Doctor frowns and shakes his head quickly. "Names aside, we need to speak to whoever lives in this house now." He says firmly.

"That's her." Kathy points at the woman who shoots her another look of irritation. Kathy is enjoying getting on her nerves, payback for the cricket bat.

"But you're the police." The Doctor states, frowning in confusion. Kathy decides to keep the whole kiss-o-gram thing quiet for a bit longer as it's too funny when it's revealed.

"Yes, and this is where I live. You got a problem with that?!" Amy retorts.

Kathy checks her pockets and her eyes widen in panic. "Uh, guys, I think I've lost my sonic, I can't find it."

The Doctor frowns and checks his own. "Mine too." He yanks on the cuffs and then turns to Amy. "Get us out, please?"

"I can't... I lost the key." She admits looking embarrassed.

The Doctor looks at her in disbelief. "How could you have lost it?!" He asks, exasperated.

"Look I know where the sonics are." Kathy interrupts. She gazes down the hallway to the sixth door. The Doctor looks straight at the door while Amy looks blankly. "They both went under the door though why mine since it was in my pocket, I don't know."

"That thing has pockets?" Amy questions doubtfully, staring at Kathy's Tudor dress that is falling apart.

"Yes!" Kathy snaps.

"We're going to have to get them out somehow." The Doctor mutters.

Amy looks around before turning to them, furrowing her eyebrows heavily. "What are you two on about?"

"The sixth door at the end of the hallway." The Doctor answers, he points with his free hand.

Amy narrows her eyes, giving the floor another quick look and then turning back to him. "There's only five rooms."

"No, there's six," Kathy says evenly. "It's always been there. Sometimes you've noticed it. You've heard strange noises that you've passed off as your imagination. Look where you never want to look, the corner of your eye. Look behind you."

Amy slowly looks and freezes at the sight of the door. "That's... That is not possible." She breathes fearfully. "How's that possible?"

"There's a perception filter round the door." The Doctor explains quickly. "Sensed it the last time we were here. Should've seen it."

"But that's a whole room," Amy states, still sounding frightened. "That's a whole room I've never even noticed."

"The filter stops you. Something came a while ago to hide. It's still hiding."

Amy starts walking towards the door.

"Stay away from that door!" The Doctor instructs but she keeps steadily walking.

"You said your tools were in there, right?" Amy asks. "Someone needs to get them."

"It's too dangerous," Kathy warns the girl but Amy reaches for the doorknob.

"Do not touch that door!" The Doctor orders but Amy simply sends him a glare before stepping inside. "Why does no one ever listen to me? Do I just have a face that nobody listens to? Again...?"

"Apparently, I have one too," Kathy grumbles.

"Do you have anything?" He quickly asks her.

She shakes her head. "Nothing except a scanner, which isn't useful."

"There's nothing here. Those things you were looking for... what do they look like?" Amy calls out to them.

"Silver, blue at the end." The Doctor answers.

"Same but it has a red light and metal claws," Kathy replies.

"Found them. They're here." Amy tells them, sounding nervous.

"Must have rolled under the door." The Doctor decides.

"Yeah. Must have... and then it must have jumped up on the table..."

The Doctor and Kathy look at each other in alarm. "Get out of there!" They yell. "Get out!"

"Amy, please, you have the sonics, get out of there!" Kathy pleads while the Doctor stretches as far as he can with the handcuffs.

"There's nothing here, but..." Amy speaks with a wavering voice.

"Don't try to see it." The Doctor commands urgently. "If it knows you've seen it, it will kill you. Don't look at it."

Kathy tenses when she hears a gasp from Amy then a loud growl and a scream. Amy runs out of the room, slamming the door behind her. She dashes down the hall to them, handing back their screwdrivers.

Kathy wipes the slime from hers while the Doctor tries his own to work on locking the door. The tool buzzes weakly. He turns it to the handcuffs. It doesn't work. "What's the bad alien done to you?"

"Will that door hold it?" Amy asks. 

"Oh, yeah, yeah, course! It's an inter-dimensional multi-form from outer space - they're all terrified of wood." The Doctor retorts sarcastically.

"Still rude," Kathy mutters. Fortunately, hers is still working and she manages to unlock the cuffs from their wrists. They both stand quickly as a bright light is seen coming from under the doorway.

"What's that? What's it doing?" Amy questions.

The Doctor wipes his screwdriver with his finger. "I don't know, getting dressed? Run. Just go. Your backup's coming, I'll be fine."

"There is no backup," Kathy says anxiously as she watches the door.

The Doctor looks at her, surprised. "But I heard her on the radio, she called for backup." He insists.

"I was pretending. It's a pretend radio." Amy replies.

"But you're a policewoman."

"I'm a kiss-o-gram!" She removes her hat and her ginger hair falls free. The Doctor gapes in shock while Kathy sniggers.

At that moment, the door to the mystery room is kicked down roughly into the hallway to show a man in blue coveralls holding the lead to a large Rottweiler. He walks forward into the hall.

Amy blinks dumbly. "But it's just..." She trails off as if unable to understand exactly what she is seeing.

"No, it isn't. Look at the faces." The Doctor says steadily. The man growls and barks while the dog remains impassive.

"What?" Amy scoffs. "I'm sorry, but what?"

The Doctor smirks. "It's all one creature. One creature disguised as two." He explains. Man and dog turn heads in unison. "Clever old multi-form. A bit of a rush job, though. Got the voice a bit muddled, did you?" The man and dog's heads whip back to stare straight at the Doctor, who gazes back curiously. "Mind you, where did you get the pattern from? You'd need a psychic link, a live feed. How did you fix that?"

It snarls loudly. The multi-form advances on the Doctor, Kathy and Amy and opens his mouth showing the same teeth as in its previous form. Amy backs up frightened while Kathy goes to stand in front of the girl to make sure the creature doesn't go for her.

"Stay, boy!" The Doctor barks. The creature halts its advance and closes its mouth. "We're safe. Want to know why? She sent for backup."

"I didn't send for backup!" Amy exclaims in aggravation and fright.

Kathy rolls her eyes and turns to look at her over her shoulder. "He knows that. It was a clever lie to save our lives."

Amy winces in embarrassment. "Oh."

The Doctor gives her a sharp look before gazing back strictly at the creature. "OK, yeah, NO backup! And that's why we're safe. Alone, we're not a threat to you. If we HAD backup, then you'd have to kill us!"

They all suddenly stiffen when a booming voice rings loudly outside the house, echoing. "Attention, Prisoner Zero. The human residence is surrounded." It bellows. It's the same voice from the crack. "Attention Prisoner Zero. The human residence is surrounded."

Prisoner zero gazes around robotically before marching off to look outside from another room.

"What's that?" Amy asks as the voice, the Atraxi, continues to bellow.

"Not backup," Kathy says.

"Yes, it is!" The Doctor says in a panicked tone.

Kathy shakes her head, exasperated. "No, it really isn't."

"Prisoner Zero will vacate the human residence or the human residence will be incinerated."

"Okay, I see your point." The Doctor admits. The voice repeats its warning.

"I vote we leave," Kathy says.

"Great idea." The Doctor cries, his tone full of panic. He turns to Amy. "Run. Run!" He pushes her and he and Kathy follow her down the stairs.

——

They run outside and Kathy uses her screwdriver on the door.

"Kiss-o-gram?" The Doctor questions Amy.

"Yes!" Amy snaps.

"Why'd you pretend to be a policewoman?" The Doctor asks.

Kathy huffs and shoves the two of them. "You broke into her house!" She snaps.

"Exactly!" Amy exclaims as she goes along with Kathy's shoving. "It was this or a French maid!" She follows them to the smoking TARDIS. "What's going on? Tell me! Tell me!"

The Doctor stops outside the TARDIS. "An alien convict is hiding in your spare room disguised as a man and a dog, and some other aliens are about to incinerate your house." He says in one breath. "Any questions?"

Amy blinks before furrowing her eyebrows. "Yes." She states.

"Me too." The Doctor mutters as he tries to open the door but the key to the TARDIS won't work. "No, no, don't do that, not now!"

"She's still rebuilding, Doctor," Kathy says. "It won't do her or us any good if she lets us in now." She hears a thankful hum coming from the ship.

Prisoner Zero, still in the form of the man and dog, watches from the window, barking at them.

"Prisoner Zero will vacate the human residence or the human residence will be incinerated." The Atraxi repeats.

Amy grabs the Doctor and Kathy by the arms. "Come on." She urges. She pulls them along but the Doctor digs his heels.

"No, wait, hang on, wait, wait, wait. The shed." He runs to the garden shed, looking over it hurriedly. "We destroyed that shed last time we were here, smashed it to pieces."

"So, there's a new one. Let's go." Amy retorts as she and Kathy follow.

"Wrong," Kathy states, giving Amy a pointed look. "That's an older shed."

"She's right. It got old." The Doctor responds. He taps at the side of it. "It's ten years old at least." He sniffs the wood before rubbing his finger along the wood and tasting it. "Twelve years. We're not six months late, we're 12 years late." He turns, looking suspiciously at Amy.

"He's coming." Amy tries weakly to change the subject. The Doctor steps toward her with narrow eyes.

"You said six months." He states. "Why did you say six months?"

"Because you said five minutes," Kathy says casually, catching his attention. She shrugs and tilts her head towards Amy. "She's Amelia Pond. Grown-up, hasn't she?"

The Doctor's eyes widen, staring at them in shock and disbelief with his mouth hanging open. "What?" He gasps.

Amy rolls her eyes and grabs Kathy and the Doctor's hands to drag them with her. The Doctor continues to stutter "what?" as they run along with Amy, past Prisoner Zero, who is standing at the door. They rush away from the house to put some distance between them and Prisoner Zero.

——

They reach a good distance away when the Doctor halts them so he can look at Amy. "You're Amelia." He states, clearly trying to process that the little girl he had met 5 minutes ago is now twelve minutes older.

"You're late." Amy snaps, glaring, as she turns to stomp down the road. The Doctor and Kathy hurriedly pace to keep up with her.

"Amelia Pond, you're the little girl." The Doctor says.

"I'm Amelia and you're late." Amy retorts as she marches on.

"Technically I'm not, I just promised we'll arrive eventually," Kathy says, causing them to pause. "So, I didn't break any promises, unlike him." She jabs a thumb at the Doctor, who lets out a huff.

"I suppose," Amy mutters, rolling her eyes.

"Forgive me?" Kathy tries to pull her best pout.

Amy gives her a pointed look as if to pretend to be angry and annoyed but a smile slips. "Okay, I forgive you." Kathy beams and throws her arms around Amy. Amy chuckles before turning to the Doctor and frowning at the Doctor, who is still gaping like a goldfish. "I'm still cross with him though."

"B-but that's... what happened?" The Doctor snaps.

Amy turns around and continues walking, linking her arm with Kathy's. "12 years." She snaps.

"You hit me with a cricket bat." He says dumbly.

"12 years."

"A cricket bat."

"12 years and four psychiatrists." Amy counters.

"Four?" The Doctor parrots.

"I kept biting them," Amy replies, embarrassed.

"Understandable." Kathy comforts. Amy gives her a smile.

"Why?" The Doctor asks.

"They said the two of you weren't real," Amy explains quietly.

Atraxi's voice is then heard coming out of the speakers of an ice cream van sitting in the centre of the village. "Prisoner Zero will vacate the human residence or the human residence will be incinerated."

Amy's eyes go wide in fright and alarm. "No, no, no, come on... What? We're being staked out by an ice cream van?"

The Doctor and Kathy head for the van followed by Amy.

"What's that? Why are you playing that?" The Doctor questions.

"It's supposed to be Claire De Lune." Comes the reply. The man looks uncomfortable by how far the Doctor is sticking his head into the window.

Kathy looks wide eyed at the ice cream; she hasn't had any in years. "Oooo!"

"No." The Doctor says. Kathy pouts. He picks up the player and listens as the message is repeated.

They begin to notice the message being played across other devices as well. People of the village stand around in confusion at their mobile phones or music players.

"What's happening?" Amy breathes in a panic. The Doctor and Kathy don't answer as they bolt towards a nearby house. The Doctor leaps over a low white fence into a pretty front garden while Kathy runs around to the front with Amy following.

——

They run into a house of an elderly woman, Mrs Angelo, trying to change the channel on her TV but they all show the Atraxi's eye and say the same message.

"Hello!" The Doctor and Kathy greet brightly together as the woman notices them.

"Sorry to burst in, we're doing a special on television faults in this area." The Doctor explains.

"Also, crimes," Kathy adds, smiling. The woman blinks at them in shock.

"Let's have a look." The Doctor takes the remote from her.

"I was just about to phone." Mrs Angelo tells them, getting over the surprise as Kathy and the Doctor go over to the TV. "It's on every channel." The Doctor begins banging the remote and Mrs Angelo sees Amy. "Hello, Amy, dear. Are you a policewoman now?"

"Well, sometimes," Amy replies, looking embarrassed.

"I thought you were a nurse." Mrs Angelo states, frowning in puzzlement.

Amy shifts on the spot. "I can be a nurse." She mutters. Kathy gives her an amused smirk.

"Or, actually, a nun." Mrs Angelo continues, digging Amy into a bigger hole.

"I dabble." Amy chuckles nervously.

"Amy, who are your friends?" Mrs Angelo asks.

The Doctor frowns and turns away from the telly. "Who's Amy? You were Amelia." He questions curiously.

"Yeah, now I'm Amy," Amy grumbles, still looking slightly flushed from the embarrassment earlier.

"Amelia Pond. That was a great name." The Doctor argues, shaking his head in disapproval.

"Bit fairy tale." Amy retorts.

"She's got you there," Kathy mutters.

"I know you two, don't I?" Mrs Angelo suddenly asks. "I've seen you both somewhere before."

"Maybe her but not me. Brand-new face..." The Doctor makes a face and Mrs Angelo blinks in bewilderment. "First time on." He turns to Amy and looks at her like a strict parent. "And what sort of job's a kiss-o-gram?" Kathy rolls her eyes at him.

"I go to parties and I kiss people." Amy tries to casually respond, clearing her throat. "With outfits. It's a laugh."

"You were a little girl five minutes ago." The Doctor argues.

"You're worse than my aunt." Amy retorts.

"I'm the Doctor, I'm worse than everybody's aunt." He counters harshly before calming down and turning to Mrs Angelo. "And that is not how I'm introducing myself." The Doctor picks up a radio and uses the sonic screwdriver on it. They hear the same message about Prisoner Zero in French and German before it turns it off. "OK, so it's everywhere, in every language. They're broadcasting to the whole world." He opens a window and looks up.

"What's up there? What are you looking for?" Amy questions.

The Doctor pulls his head back inside. "OK, planet this size, two poles, your basic molten core... They're going to need a 40% fission blast." The Doctor rambles as Jeff enters and the Doctor walks up to him.

"They'll have to power up first though. So, with a medium-sized starship, that's 20 minutes." Kathy says.

Jeff is tall, which Kathy can tell the Doctor is not pleased with as he has to stand on tip-toe to meet him and then goes back down. "20 minutes? Yeah, 20 minutes. We've got 20 minutes."

"20 minutes to what?" Amy questions the Doctor and Kathy. Jeff blinks in astonishment and confusion as the Doctor walks away to answer Amy's question.

"Are you the Doctor and Kathy?" Jeff asks, interrupting the Doctor before he can speak.

Mrs Angelo's face brightens. "They are, aren't they? They're the Doctor and Kathy!" She states merrily. "The Raggedy Doctor and the Tattered Kathy. All those cartoons you did when you were little. The Raggedy Doctor and Tattered Kathy, it's them." Kathy grins while the Doctor stares in confusion.

Amy blushes and grumbles a "Shut up" as she averts her eyes in humiliation.

The Doctor now looks bemused. "Cartoons?" He goes to sit on the sofa.

"Gran, it's them, isn't it? It's really them!" Jeff lets out a slight laugh in disbelief.

"Jeff, shut up!" Amy snaps then turns to the Doctor. "20 minutes to what?" The 'eye' is still on the TV, broadcasting its warning.

"The human residence. They're not talking about your house, they're talking about the planet. Somewhere up there, there's a spaceship and it's going to incinerate the planet. 20 minutes to the end of the world." The Doctor explains.

"What?!" Amy exclaims in panic.

"Don't worry, Amy. We deal with this kind of thing all the time." Kathy casually replies. Amy scoffs.

——

A/N: Hi one of those long chapters so I decided to break it up into two chapters.

Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

#doctor who

[sweetsilveryrevenge]

when a pair of church bells can shake me. take me for all I am worth and shatter it in front of me. sending me crashing. crashing. crashing.

taking myself on a walk and consoling myself and wandering down to the beach while shaking and arguing with every part of myself, words just fucking falling out of my mouth as I trail along and gradually pull off all my jewelry and try to keep as composed as I can. just. going. and going. and going. along the road. seeing so many small businesses that must mean people's lives to them, it's so stupid and futile and barely makes a dent in the world but to them, its purpose and it's a world of its own. I'm the stupid one for not being able to lose myself in a passion like that. why can't I have something to make me feel alright.

walking along the very end of the sand next to the harbour

endless poetry coming out of me. against my will. just tumbling out. crying. screaming and feeling the emotion of everyone who has ever lived. terrified. and beautiful. alive. undoubtedly human. scared of my own existence. It is beautiful it is raw it is disgusting. wishing to die wishing to live forever wishing to be nothing but mortal crying like a baby wishing to be a child again. apologising to every other soul who has walked this earth and this sand I stand on. my life is so insignificant. it is my short eternity. crying out to infinite people, ahead of my time, ones who died before my existence, I love you, I love you, trying to pull myself away from this tide.

walking away, endlessly spiraling, my life my life is my eternity.I will live until I cannot live anymore. I am dead in life I have never lived. Repeating. I will scream until I cannot anymore I will tear the world piece by piece by piece. I will claw until I cannot. I have been dead from the very second I have existed. I will keep going. it is what I do. it is the only thing I know how to do. I will keep dying. again. and again. and again. cry my makeup off to the water again and again and again. I am dead in living. doomed by existence. undoubtedly human. afraid to love. afraid to live. the walking guilt of every dead that speaks to me in my mind. they haunt me, they want justice they want remembrance. I will be like them, I will be forgotten completely at one point. until only my concept can be remembered, by some poor soul like me, plagued with the thoughts of a dead universe upon their shoulders dares to think the same thought I once had.

forcing myself to adjust. to normal. clean up the gaping figurative shot wound in the centre of my skull and pull myself on a tour. out of hell. dragging myself. through hell. around. around. up. down. too tired to even think . dragging myself. up. up. up. bridge . over a wide central road. staring. fuzzy. leaning. hands on sharp edges. A church bell strikes in the distance and I feel my breath come in harshly, ice cold on my throat. my heart beats in my ears and I feel myself swaying onto the rail. so tired. but so energetic. body more ready to exert itself than my mind is letting me know. ringing in my ears. sickening. like I'm going to pass out. so loud I cannot recognise the sound of a car rolling up next to me so slowly, tires crunching. A gentle turn. and a dead eyed stare. police. we stare and I disappear like a slow breeze, empty but caught. hollow inside with a thought rattling in my head that maybe I was stopped by their prescence.

I haul myself through busy streets and up more hills. deep city. late night. alone. colder. glaring. face permanently twisted into a scowl. echoes of makeup dusting my cheeks. music on.

the man who screamed at the universe and cried like the cosmos has retired now. put back on the shelf like a dusty old book you don't understand the word choice of. inside me. waiting. waiting. until a chance comes to feel divine again. as if he is instructed to die in that moment. to make it dramatic. and that is all he is good for. we are connected. he does not indulge in futile human endeavours. I share his sentiments and cry over them in the comfort of my own bed. but I can compose myself. I can hold back the vocabulary vomit. I can live. for him. I can be his futility.

I am clinging on. we are holding each other. a flood of obligation and a sea of uncontrollable but indescribable feeling. hands frantically wrapped around me. nails digging in. into fuzz and emptiness. into the mass of nothing that I am. adapting. continuing because that is all I know. ready to face the end wherever it shall pull the ground from under me. I will not fall. for when I hit the ground I will realise I never left it in the beginning. I have always been there. for as long as I was capable of falling. catastrophic. pretending. hiding. always just under the surface. Do not stick your hand in the water. it will bite you and its teeth will sink in so far. it will become infected. it will spread to you until the effects are fatal.

We are clinging on to each other. so tightly. for life. for death. we are all we can depend on. we are the only ones who can understand each other. others can pretend but they can never feel it as personally. never as intimately. we are all we have.

#v-text #tw sui vent

[shatterthefragments]

ARTS DONEISH

And. We’re sort of looking at new cars (ideally another used Corolla) and so I got to test drive a car for the first time!

For some reason I’m shocked they let me. (I mean. It helps that we were with a Mature Male Adult (dad)) but even though I’m an actual adult with a full drivers license and have had it for years. It’s like. Why would they let me? Whatever. It was. Alright. (I didn’t like the lower visibility. I loooove corollas almost as old as me haha)

Almost test drove a civic bc they would’ve let me but (based on the Two Civic Owners I know (and the memes they’ve shared from their Civics Owners Group)) couldn’t stop making fun of it and the owners. (But the sliding cup holders in the centre console grabbed my attention like a cat and a laser pointer. Could play with that for a While)

Anyway. It’s past my bedtime already and I have to start getting up up an hour earlier or so than usual bc I have to eat before I bike to work so. Yeah.

Also me: slightly worried about my bike being stolen

Dad: who the hell would steal *that*?

I mean. Valid. But I’m anxious. It was passed on to dad like a decade or so ago from an uncle who had it for a long time and decided to upgrade. We’ve replaced the tires a time or two but. It’s still going! Looks like crap though, I have to agree. I’m just glad we still have it. And that I’ve gone cycling the last three weeks… hopefully I’ll get through it.

#shatters’ fragments #cars

[chyanxrene]

His obsession

♡ Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Y/N

♡ Summary: Draco has an Obsession with Y/N who has up until this time not given him the time of day, until she finally caves in at a Slytherin house party.

♡ Warning(s): Pure smut, hair pulling, choking, degradation if you squint

It was no secret Draco Malfoy was in love with Y/N Y/L/N, he would drool over her as soon as he laid his eyes on her. She was all he could think about. However the same couldn't be said for Y/N, despite Draco's numerous attempts to get the Slytherin princess to fall in love with him, nothing worked.

In Y/N's mind, he was just another player, who only wanted one thing from her. Why would she give him the time of day when she's witnessed him with a new girl everyday? Sure she found him attractive, but then again who didn't.

Draco never gave up, he'd send her flowers, chocolates he even wrote hand written notes to the young witch, some asking about her day others begging for a chance. But she didn't budge, she'd just shake her head, laugh or consume the edible gifts he gave her with her friends.

His friends told him to get over it, it was becoming comical the amount of times he had been rejected, but he didn't care. Her boldness, cunningness, sense of humour was everything he wanted in a woman. Draco Malfoy liked a chase and he would not give up without a fight.

Y/N rolled her eyes when she sighted the ice blonde strolling down the stairs with an unknown Ravenclaw witch. This was the second girl she had seen this week and it was only Tuesday. She never understood why he continued to have relations with all these other girls when he desperately tried to pursue her. Perhaps it was his way of making her jealous, but it only made her resent him more.

The poor Ravenclaw witch left, batting her eyelashes at Draco. Everyone knew he would never see her again, but she didn't, which made Y/N feel sorry for her.

Y/N smelt him before she saw him.

"You coming to the party tonight darling?"Draco sat down next to Y/N, interrupting her thoughts.

She closed her book "are you going to be there?" She asked Draco who was flickering his gaze from her lips to her eyes. He licked his bottom lip and nodded eagerly.

"Then no."

Y/N stood up and walked out of the common room. Draco was left utterly confused, did she not like the roses he had left her?

"Come on Malfoy, give it up, she not interested" Blaise Zabini joined his friend in the seating area.

"I don't get it, why can't she give me a chance?" Malfoy huffed, confused at his latest rejection.

Blaise let out a loud laugh, holding his stomach  as he watched Draco.

"What?"

"You seriously don't know?"

Blaise then dropped his face realising his best friend really didn't understand what he was doing so wrong.

"Malfoy, you fuck a different girl every other day, Y/N sees all of it, why the hell would she want to date someone like that" he laughed.

Draco's face went into a scowl, his tactics clearly weren't working.

"I thought that would've made her jealous."

"Jealous? Crabbe has more of a chance dating her than you" Blaise cackled.

Draco stood up, stomping to his room. There was no feelings involved with the other girls, just a quick fuck, he would only think of Y/N whilst he done it anyway. But she didn't know that, so he would try again, tonight.

Y/N had left the common room only to be shoved into a wall by Hufflepuff who was crying her eyes out, running down the hall. At first she was angry but once she realised the witch from the year below was distressed she couldn't help but feel bad.

"What's wrong?" Y/N asked, rubbing the witches back.

The poor girl couldn't speak, she was stuttering all over the place, but one name made Y/N's hairs stand up Draco.

"W-we had sex and now he's with someone else."

Y/N consoled the younger witch and promised her she would deal with it.

Draco was wide eyed when he saw Y/N storm into his room. Red with anger, she threw her books onto his bed. Her hand was raised, ready to add some colour onto the pale boys skin, but she was too slow, he caught her wrist mid air and pushed her hand to her chest. Backing her against the wall.

"I've dreamed of moments like this, however in them you weren't trying to hit me" Draco drawled, his nose ran through Y/N's hair, inhaling the scent he loved so bad.

"You're a bastard" Y/N gritted, shoving Draco off her. "Don't fucking touch me!"

Draco's eyebrows furrowed "what's the problem darling?" He asked the girl he admired the most.

"You need to stop messing with these girls Draco, they're all distraught after being with you" Y/N growled.

Draco let out a small laugh.

"And you don't think I am? The girl I want the most can't even give me the time of day" he shouted back.

Y/N's mouth closed abruptly, she would not give in to him. "There's a reason for that, you're just a lad, someone who just wants to get there dick wet!"

Draco's frown turned into a smirk "I've only ever wanted you to wet my cock."

Y/N's breath hitched in her throat. Numerous conversations with Draco and he'd never used such vulgar words towards her.

Draco noticed this and a light bulb turned on in his head, maybe this could be his new approach, he was a master at dirty talk. He could easily make a girl cum by just his words alone — which he has done before.

He was slightly surprised that this is what Y/N liked, this only made him want her more, if that was even possible.

"You like that don't you?" Draco purred.

He stepped towards her again, a light pink shade painted on her cheeks.

"Stop Draco."

Y/N's hand went to reach the door knob behind her but Draco's cold hands stopped her.

His warm breath on her ear, he'd never had her in this position before "do you like when I talk to you like that?" He whispered.

A small whimper came from her throat.

"You filthy girl."

"Fuck, I could do so many things to you" Draco's knee pushed in between her legs, spreading them apart.

Y/N's breathing was heavy, she felt herself becoming wet, her underwear sticking to her pussy. She had to stay strong, she would not give him the satisfaction.

"I'd make you cum so hard, everyday" Draco breathed. "Fuck, I'd ruin you for every other man, stretch you so wide that you would be accustomed to my cock only" he growled.

"Shit."

She felt Draco's thigh coming in direct contact with her clothed clit.

"Let me make you mine Y/N, I want nothing more than to pleasure you and make you happy" Draco left a small kiss on Y/N's ear.

A knock came from behind them, bringing Y/N back to reality, she pushed him off her and swung the door open. Outside was another girl, she looked between them both, Y/N scoffed and walked out of his room. Draco was left in awe and a boner, which the unknown girl would be made to satisfy.

Later that night the party had come around Y/N wore her tight fitted forest green mini dress. It had a low back and a small slit on the upper thigh, she wore some black strappy heels to match with her outfit.

Whistles and cat calls were made as she walked into her houses party.

Y/N joined her fellow Slytherins, she was always down for a good time. Drinking, dancing and having fun in general.

She was known to be quite popular, she's what boys wanted and what girls wanted to be. That's one of many reasons why Draco was so infatuated with her.

She hadn't seen the Slytherin Prince yet, but Y/N knew he would be around. Probably with a different girl linked onto his arm.

Y/N found herself thinking about this afternoons conversation with him, she wanted more, but in the same breath she despised his actions.

She shook her head, maybe she was more than attracted to him but she didn't want to admit it. There was times when she would wonder how good he was in bed for girls to be crying and swooning over him. Maybe he was all talk, but she made a promise that she would never find out, even though a part of her wanted to.

Y/N had a few drinks, feeling herself loosen up and wanting to dance, she made her way to the centre of the common room. She swayed her hips to the beat, muggle music was playing which she enjoyed a lot. She closed her eyes feeling the sensual words of the song.

Draco had spotted her from when she first stepped into the party. He couldn't take his eyes off her, even when he had a red head witch attached to his arm. He wanted nothing more than to drag Y/N away and keep her locked in his room so no one else could see her provocative dance moves.

So he made his move, he left the red head alone and slithered through the crowds of wizards.

Finding his prize, he slipped behind her, snaking his long slender fingers around his waist and settling them. His hips moved in time with Y/N's, she knew it was him and purposely pushed her ass onto his groin, causing Draco to let out a quiet groan.

Her arms went behind her wrapped around his neck, her long nails scratching the back of his neck. He had to lean down as she was shorter than him, but he didn't mind, he was closer to her ear and that's exactly what she wanted. Maybe it was the alcohol but she wanted him to say filthy words to her, like before.

"If you were mine we wouldn't even be here right now" he growled, kissing her ear lobe.

"Why's that?" Y/N whispered, Draco's hands dug into her waist, pulling her closer to him.

"Because, I would be fucking you senseless, in this pathetic excuse of a dress."

Y/N moaned at his words, imagining his large hands running all over her body. Attacking her pussy with his tongue, she craved it. She was beginning to realise that she wanted Draco Malfoy, she would never tell him that though.

The music continued and so did their dancing.

"Perhaps if you we're lucky I would let you join the party again, only when my cum was inside you"

"Draco" she whimpered, one of his hands made its way up towards her neck, holding it with a light grip.

"All those other boys that eye fuck you would know you're mine, they'd see my cum running down your thighs, they'd see the wobble in your walk, your swollen lips and I would be there so they knew who you belonged to."

Y/N was wet, more than wet, she felt her arousal leaking onto her thighs. Her underwear was uncomfortable as it was soaked.

"Draco move your hand" she whispered. She felt his hand sitting in the middle of her ass, making it impossible to concentrate and dance.

"That's not my hand darling."

That was it for Y/N she needed to get away from him. "I'm going to use the bathroom" she rushed, hurrying away from him and finding the nearest bathroom.

She took a deep breaths, her nipples were erected, face was red. She'd never been this turned on before.

She stared at herself in the mirror, an awful ache down below. She needed some release, she ran into the bathroom stall, slamming it and locking it behind her. Her thighs began rubbing together but it didn't work.

Y/N growled in frustration and walked out of the bathroom stall. She was faced with Draco, he had lust in his eyes, his breathing was laboured. He leaned against the door, she watched as his hand went to the lock and turned it.

"Draco" Y/N said which came out almost inaudible.

He closed the gap between them, his erection was apparent, creating a tent in his trousers.

"Tell me to stop."

Y/N gulped, feeling his hands settle on either side of her face, cupping it gently, his darkened eyes remained on her lips.

"Tell me to stop Y/N."

She couldn't think, she was too turned on, she wanted satisfaction so badly. She wanted Draco to be the one to do it. His mouth inched further towards her own, she felt his breath on her lips.

"I won't be able to control myself if you don't ask me to stop right now" he mumbled, holding her face tighter.

Y/N had finally caved, she wanted him.

"Don't stop."

Draco's mouth instantly dove onto Y/N's. It was a desperate kiss, tongues were in and out of the others mouths. Teeth were clashing against one another's, Draco groaned at the taste of her mouth. He loved it, he knew no one else would compare to her.

Draco backed Y/N harshly against the sink, her lower back bending slightly, a small hiss came from her mouth at the force of his push. His hands were no longer on her face, they were everywhere. Y/N couldn't keep up, one moment they were on her thighs, then her waist, they brushed against her nipples.

Their mouths were still connected, they couldn't get enough of each other. Draco kicked her feet apart, one hand holding her neck, the other drew patterns on her inner thighs.

Y/N became more desperate for him, a small thrust from her hips made Draco laugh.

"Patience darling, I want this as bad as you do, but I want you to be ready for when I give you my cock, I don't want to hurt you."

His fingers brushed her clothed cunt, the friction between the lace and her clit was sending Y/N over the edge. "Fuck you're so wet, tell me it's because of me" Draco said hoarsely, it almost came out like a beg.

"Yes Draco."

Draco let out a strangled groan, pushing her underwear to the side so he could come into direct contact with her sensitive clit. He rubbed circles around it, causing Y/N to moan his name.

"Fuck, I can't believe I've finally got you like this" he moaned, feeling the wetness on his fingers. Y/N was withering beneath him, rubbing herself against his fingers, but Draco was taking his time.

A part of him wanted to savour this moment as he didn't know if this could happen again.

His middle finger entered Y/N with ease, her wetness surrounding his digit. Draco's hand fell from her throat onto the edge of the countertop, gripping it, turning his knuckles pale. He was enjoying this just as much as Y/N.

Draco's finger curved, stroking her rippled wall. The pad of his thumb still pleasuring her clit, Y/N was close, she wanted to cum so badly. He slipped in another finger, Y/N instantly squeezed them, nearing closer to her orgasm.

"You're so fucking tight, I can't wait to feel you around my cock."

Draco's fingers pumped in and out of her quickly, Y/N was panting against his neck, she sucked and bit on his pale flesh. Her mark was now on his skin, Draco saw this in the mirror and oh he could've came right then and there.

"Oh God, Draco" Y/N cried into his shoulder, he had added another finger, stretching her out and preparing her for his cock. "Cum, fuck I want to taste you so bad, cum Y/N."

That was it for Y/N, her pussy tightened around his three fingers, his thumb continued to rub her clit. She came moaning his name "that's it" Draco cooed in her ear.

He pulled his soaked fingers out, watching them with hooded eyelids. Y/N watched him with a blush on her cheeks as he dipped each finger into his mouth, sucking and moaning at the taste.

"Better than I ever imagined."

But Draco wasn't finished, he wanted to be inside her, he wanted her to cum around his cock the same way she did with his fingers. He pulled her into a passionate kiss, not an eager one like before.

Y/N was spun around, her back against his chest, she was pushed forward by his large hands. Y/N bit her lip as she watched Draco eye her backside which was now exposed to him. He was so hot, she thought to herself.

Draco looked at her through the mirror, his trademark smirk now on his face. His hand raised and fell hard on her ass, causing her to jolt forward "that's for calling me a bastard."

He slapped her again.

"That's for ignoring my gifts."

And again.

"That's for rejecting me."

Y/N was a moaning mess, she was wetter than before. Draco saw this as he watched her exposed pussy "now look at you" he laughed.

"Bending over for me, waiting for me to fuck you."

"Fuck you Draco" Y/N spat, this was why she didn't want to give into him because he was a smug prick. Y/N went to get up, Draco gripped the back of her hair, pushing his erection between her ass cheeks. She let out a small sob.

"Exactly."

Y/N was pushed forward again, his hand remained on her lower back, holding her in place. "Keep your eyes on me darling."

Y/N felt Draco snap her underwear, he unbuttoned his trousers pushing them down with his boxers. Y/N's eyes went wide, it all made sense now, why the girls were always crying, itching to have sex with him.

It all made sense.

He was big, not big like 'oh that might satisfy you'. No, he was big big, Y/N couldn't believe it, she wondered how the hell he was going to fit that inside her. She was definitely not walking straight after this, he must've hid it well because she never expected him to be that large.

"This is yours, after this" he said whilst rubbing his tip up and down Y/N's entrance. "It belongs to you and so will I."

Draco's head was thrown back as he held onto Y/N's hip tightly. His other hand was in her hair, he pushed his tip inside her, groans came out of them both simultaneously. He pulled out and pushed into her again, this time making her take more of his dick.

It was never ending for Y/N, he just kept going, inch by inch he entered her. Stretching her so wide and reaching close to her cervix. Draco's face was red, his breathing was heavy.

"I- fuck, I can't, shit" Draco couldn't form a proper sentence, he was fully inside her, his cock was hugged so tight by her pussy he knew he was going to cum within minutes.

Draco pulled out halfway and pushed into her again, he repeated this action a few times, he saw through the mirror that Y/N's eyes were screwed shut.

"Shit, are you okay? I can stop, fuck, do you want me to stop? Is it hurti-" Draco was cut off by Y/N opening her eyes.

"Fuck me Draco."

His eyes widened, he nodded quickly, both hands were now gripping onto her hips, digging into her. He thrusted hard, a loud scream came from Y/N's mouth. Draco stalled but Y/N told him to keep going.

He picked up his pace, pulling 3/4 of the way out and slamming back into her. He was fucking her hard, with determination in his eyes. He couldn't believe this was happening, especially after their conversation this morning. Draco was on cloud nine.

"Oh fuck Draco."

"I know" he growled, he pulled her hips back at the same time to meet his aggressive thrusts. The sounds of their skin slapping together echoed throughout the bathroom, partnered with distance background music. The sound to Y/N was so erotic.

She was coming close to her second orgasm, Draco must've felt her clench around him as he let out a growl and started to rub her clit.

Y/N had never had sex like this before, she loved every bit of it. Draco's face whilst he was fucking her turned her on even more. He watched his cock slip out of her and then bit his lip when he pushed back into her. He was going to cum.

Draco pinched her clit, which was it for Y/N. She was screaming his name, her thighs shaking, her vision became blurred.

"Fuck, tell everyone who's making you cum like that" he grunted, his thrusts were now short and deep.

Y/N cried out as Draco continued to fuck her in order to chase his own orgasm. "Tell them who you belong to, who you always belonged to."

"You Draco, it's you."

That sent Draco over the edge, his thrusts were sloppy as he found himself cumming. He left bruises on Y/N's hips from his fingers.

Y/N moaned feeling his cum spill inside her, rope after rope of his warm, thick cum it was so much. Draco had never came like this before, he found himself not knowing when it would end.

Y/N was filled up with it, he pulled out, two more spurts landing on her ass cheeks and then his dick went soft again. He let out a string of curse words, before he ran to grab tissue.

He wiped Y/N's red ass, removing his cum and then wiped himself. Y/N was still catching her breath as she watched as Draco pulled his boxers up, followed by his trousers.

"Are you okay?" He asked her with concerned eyes. Y/N couldn't speak, she just stared at him, her mouth agape. She watched him as if she was star struck.

"Say something."

Draco looked around nervously, slightly feeling uncomfortable as if he'd done something wrong. Y/N cleared her throat and stood up as straight as she could. Her pussy was hurting, her ass was sore, she could feel his cum sliding down her inner thighs.

"Y/N, fuck, if I've done something wrong just tell me."

Y/N shushed him with her finger, she pulled him towards her by his shirt. Draco was confused, even more when she pulled him into a sweet kiss. He returned the kiss, melting into it, Y/N pulled away and scanned his features.

He was blushing "do you" he trailed, looking down at her inner thighs "should I get a tissue for that?"

"Leave it, I want all the boys that eye fuck me to know I'm yours."

#draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #dracosmut #smut #draco x y/n #harrypotter #harry potter #dracomalfoysmut #dracomalfoy #draco malfoy smut

[space-helen]

‘Cotton on’

Words: 851

Pairing: Spock x Reader, Jim Kirk x sibling!reader

A/N: Tried to keep this as gender Neutral as possible

Request:  Maybe, reader is the little sibling of Jim Kirk (and in relationship with Spock). Reader is the only one allowed on the captains chair. And the rest of the bridge crew (Bones, Chekov, Sulu and Scotty) are very shocked when reader first sits on the chair and no one does a thing about it and then Jim comes in and everyone is prepared for a big fight but they don't know that reader and Jim are siblings? 🙈 - @hunters-rose​

______________________

Being on the bridge had been an uncommon occurrence since you’d join the Enterprise. When you first started you seemed to be on it frequently, as you often took the least liked shifts but once you’d changed to work more regular ‘day’ shifts, being on the bridge rarely happened anymore.

“Thank you for coming up to the bridge on short notice.” Spock spoke from beside you as you walked together.

“No problem. It’ll be nice to be back there.” you admitted.

You slid beside each other in the turbo lift and let your hands intertwine with each other while you waited to get to the bridge.

Spock brought your hand to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to it. “I’ve missed you recently.”

“I’ve missed you too.” you squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I’m sorry that I’ve been working doubles recently.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s not your fault that half of the ship had fallen ill.”

“I know I just wish I could spend more time with you.”

“Do not let your brother hear you say that. He would be most offended.” 

You laughed and released the mans hand as the lift stopped to let you onto the bridge. He admired your smile and allowed you to walk ahead of him.

“This is Lieutenant Y/L/N, they have come to assist us with technical strategy while the Captain is absent.” 

“Y/L/N?” Sulu turned towards you to see if he could recognise you.

“That’s me.” you said as you moved towards the Captain’s chair.

“It’s familiar to me.” he admitted with a shrug as he watched Chekov turn around.

“Extremely familiar.” Chekov added.

“I’m sure it will come to you” you took a seat in the chair and watched the men’s eyes go wide “I know all about you though.”

Chekov and Sulu shared a glance as Spock stood behind the chair.

“Can I have the statistics up on screen please?”

“Sure” Chekov spoke apprehensively as he did what was asked.

You observed the information on screen. “Up all of section A by seven point five percent.”

You heard someone enter the bridge but continued to speak “Section B by ten percent and C down by eleven percent. You should find that there’s more balance.”

“That’s not the Captain.” you could hear the voice you knew to be Scotty’s behind you.

“The Lieutenant is here to help-”

“I know who they are” Scotty waved at Spock to stop talking as he walked further onto the bridge. Crossing his arms he leant on a console as he watched you work.

“When we come across anything that needs to be fired at remember to-”

“What's going on here?” you noticed your brother's voice instantly.

Everyone turned their attention to the centre of the room in one way or another, some being more subtle about it than others.

Jim came to stand next to you, placing his hand on your shoulder as he looked at the screen “Ah, messing with the ship I see.” he said playfully.

“I’m only doing what Spock asked me to do.”

“Who the hell is in the chair and why isn’t there a fight?” Bones’ voice quipped as everyone fully turned to face the centre of the room. 

“Now why would we fight?” Jim looked around the room to see everyone’s puzzled expressions and Scotty's smug expression.

“It appears that they do not know Captain.” Spock commented.

“Over a year and they still don’t know?” he dropped his hand from your shoulder as you laughed “Bones you must know?” the man stared at him blankly, “They’re my sibling.”

“How were we supposed to know if they’re announced as Y/L/N.”

“To be fair Jim I did change my last name to stop being compared to you.”

“I know but I thought they’d cotton on.”

You shrugged and stood up “It’s all yours.”

“Had enough already?” he smiled as he took his seat again.

You rolled your eyes “No I just want to see you try and figure out what to do with the information on screen.”

“You know. I’m most disappointed in you Bones.” Jim turned in his chair to face the man “Do you not do proper research into your patients?”

The man grumbled “I obviously knew but it’s not something that stays at the forefront of my mind often. That reminds me” the man turned to you “You’re physical is over-due.”

“Oh is that the time?” you faked looking at a watch on your wrist. “I’m late for, uh, something.” you moved quickly to the turbo lift and slipped inside.

“Typical Kirk behaviour.” the Doctor commented as Jim laughed.

“Oh come on Bones you love us really.” 

“I sure as hell don’t but Spock sure does.”

Jim eyed Spock for a second and the man raised an eyebrow at Jim “I have no clue as to what the Doctor is referring to.” 

“I don’t want to hear it.”  Kirk made himself comfortable and looked at the screen “Y/N sure as hell knows what she’s doing huh?”

“Indeed she does.”

Tag List: (open)

Spock: @mrscasnovak​ @carrietrekkie​  @endlesssummerfun @cynthianokamaria @nuclearwessel @nikkzwrites @nekrofantic @groovyfluxie  @mrs-l-mccoy​

Star Trek: @spaskaalekha @obiwansjedi​  @morganofthecoves1​ @livenerdyandprosper @allthetrek​ @mrs-l-mccoy @huntheimpossible @therapieliteratur

#star trek x reader #star trek aos x reader #spock x reader #jim kirk x reader #captain kirk x reader

[nhlandotherimagines]

Everything About You- Mitch Marner

@natbarzal @anastasiyaigorevnadobrodevskaya @jonnytoews19 

And they blurbs continue! Here is number 10 of the Up All Night series, with the one and only Mitch Marnie ❤️

I had a lot of fun writing this one, but just a heads up it contains a lot of crying, infidelity (not by Mitch or Y/n but still), anxiety/panic attacks, loss of a loved one, and of course some friends to lovers fluff in there too! I hope you all enjoy it ❤️❤️❤️

You know I've always got your back, girl, so let me be the one you come running to, running to, running

Today has not been your day at all. Work totally kicked your ass, and now this! “Isaac what the hell?” Your voice cracks a little, but you can’t bring yourself to be embarrassed. All you feel at this moment is rage, because your boyfriend of two years is sitting in your shared living room with some other girls’ tongue down his throat.

“Y/n! You’re home early!” He practically pushes the girl to the floor in an attempt to look innocent.

“Oh I’m sorry! Was that inconvenient for you? Please ignore me and go back to business, I’ll just be in OUR bedroom!” You’re yelling now, moving with purpose towards your bedroom. Slamming the door behind you, you pull your phone out of your pocket. Eyes filling with tears, you press on his contact as fast as you can trying to keep your composure.

“Hey Y/n! What’s up?” Mitch’s voice is sing-songy like it always is, but today it does little to make you feel better.

“I need you to come get me...” your voice trails off as your whole body begins trembling. “Isaac c-cheated and I just, I need to go. Please.” You’re crying now. So much so that you don’t register much of Mitch’s response, aside from him promising he’d be there soon.

———

“Where is she?” Mitch is angry, you can hear it from down the hall. Mitch doesn’t get angry though, and you quickly realize this might become a much bigger problem very quickly.

“Get lost Mitch.” Isaac spits at him, and your breath hitches in your throat. You don’t make out the words that leave Mitch’s mouth next, but you do hear a crash as your feet carry you towards the front door as fast as they can move.

“Mitch don’t!” The words leave your mouth faster than you have time to take in the scene before you. Mitch is gripping the collar of Isaac’s hoodie, and has him pushed up against the wall. Both men turn to you when they hear your voice, and you’re thankful, because it looked as though Mitch was ready to swing. “Please let’s just go.” Your voice and eyes plead with Mitch, and it has his heart breaking. He lets go of Isaac, but not without giving him a shove first.

“You’re not going with him.” Isaac announces, sending Mitch a dirty look.

“Watch me,” you shoot back at him before turning to Mitch. “Can you come help grab my bags please?”

And he does. The whole while Isaac cursing and swearing under his breath, and you easily ignore him. That is until you’re slipping your jacket and shoes on. “I don’t see what your fucking problem is! You’re the one whoring around with the entire leafs roster.” His words have you seeing red, and thankfully Mitch can read you like a book. He wraps a hand gently around your bicep, but hard enough that in your attempt to lunge at Isaac he holds you back.

“For the record asshole, Y/n hasn’t so much as looked at anyone on the team in a suggestive way. So some time in between being a dipshit, get your facts straight.” Mitch’s voice is cool and collected, and it eases your mind as he pulls you and your bags out of the apartment.

As you make your way to Mitch’s car, you feel numb. The whole situation runs through your brain over and over, but somehow you remain emotionless. Slipping into the front seat, you wait as Mitch loads your things into the back. You’re so in your head, you barely notice him get in and start the car.

“I’m sorry I called you, but I didn’t know what else to do.” Your voice is hardly above a whisper, but Mitch hears you loud and clear. He immediately pulls the car back into the spot he just pulled out of, slamming the car right back into park causing your body to jerk forward slightly.

“Do not apologize to me, are you serious?” You turn to him, and he sends you a sad smile taking your hands in his. “I am so happy you called me! I want to be the person you call when you need something. Anything! I will come running anytime anywhere if you need me! Do you understand?”

The emotions that you hadn’t been able to find just moments ago find you now in full force. Tears steadily stream down your face, and all you can do is nod as Mitch pulls you awkwardly into his chest. The centre console digs into your ribs, but the pain doesn’t compare to the ache in your heart. Besides, in the comfort of your best friend’s arms, you’ve never felt more safe.

I see it's just a matter of fact, girl. You just call my name, I'll be coming through, coming through, I'll keep coming.

Living with Mitch was the easiest, yet hardest, thing you’ve ever done. Your plan was to move back home to your parents place, but Mitch pouted and complained about not being able to see you. So after hours of lighthearted arguments, you decided to stay. You fit well with Mitch, but there is one thing that is starting to become an issue. His teammates.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Will chirps the moment Mitch and a few of his teammates arrive to pregame before going out for drinks. Somehow Mitch’s place always gets offered up as a place to host these get togethers. Sure, you love all the guys, and they are your friends too, but the whole ‘girlfriend’ chirp was getting old fast.

“Still not his girlfriend!” You call out, peaking around the corner to let the boys know you’re in the kitchen. You got a head start on the drinking, and are currently pouring yourself a hefty glass of wine.

“Great, so you’re free to go on a date with me then.” Will winks at you as he leans against the counter beside you.

“Absolutely not!” Mitch pipes in before you even can formulate a response. Everyone’s head snaps towards Mitch, and his cheeks seem to turn a shade darker. “I’m not letting her date any of you, she could do a million times better! No offence Willy.”

“Oh none taken.” Will manages to get out while stifling a laugh.

———

The bar was packed, you knew it would be. You had insisted you would just stay home, because it was the boys night to celebrate their win, but Mitch wasn’t having it. So here you were trying to find your way to the bar for another drink. Bodies all around you, bumping into you, spilling drinks, and it felt hard to breath.

As your hands start to shake, you abandon the idea of another drink and instead turn to head back towards the group. Your breath hitches in your throat as you turn to see a sea of people. You try and push your way through, but with every step you begin to feel smaller. Your entire body begins to shake, every small brush of a limb against you has your head spinning. Panic sets into your bones, as your heart begins to race. Your eyes frantically scan the crowd looking for Mitch, as you begin wringing your hands together anxiously.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Where is Mitch?” You begin muttering to yourself. Obsessively repeating his name to yourself as if you’d forget who it was you were looking for if you stop. Of course you had to ask him to hold onto your cellphone for you!

Tears sting your eyes, and the anxiety wracking your body manifests itself into fear now. It feels as though everyone is staring at you like you’re crazy, and you don’t feel safe here. Unable to find your bearings in a room that seems to be spinning around you, you do the only thing you know how to. You call out for Mitch.

His name falls from your lips, and you know how pathetic it sounds, but you don’t care. You’re just praying that he hears you, so you call out for him again. “Mitch! Where are you?!” People are definitely staring now, but you feel like you’re moments away from passing out.

A hand grips your shoulder causing you to jump back. As you whip your head around to see who grabbed you, your eyes are met by a very concerned Mitch. You fall against his chest, and he holds you close as you try to not fall apart.

You barely register the fact that Mitch is leading you through the crowd, aside from the fact your feet are moving. You still have your face pressed into his chest as the two of you step out of the bar.

“Hey what’s wrong?” His voice is soft as he runs a hand through your hair softly. You can’t respond with words. Instead you squeeze your fists tighter in his shirt, as your body begins to tremble against him. The tears, mixed with your makeup, will surely stain his shirt, but you can’t stop. “Woah! Shh don’t cry, it’s okay I’m here.” Mitch rubs your back in slow circles as you desperately cling to him. You stay like that for awhile, but soon enough you come to your senses and feel like a total idiot. You pull away from Mitch abruptly, and turn away from him aggressively wiping at your face. “God I’m sorry Mitch! I’m such a baby!” You groan. You’re angry at yourself, and super embarrassed. So much so, that if it weren’t for the fact your phone was still in Mitch’s pocket, you would have just ran away.

“Y/n?” His voice sounds so unsure, yet so soft. You can’t bring yourself to look at him just yet, but you do turn back towards him. “I shouldn’t have let you go to the bar alone, I’m sorry. Did someone hurt you? Because I swear to god I will go in there and fight for you no questions asked.” He adds a little chuckle at the end, but his tone gives away the fact he’s telling the truth. You have no doubts Mitch would fight for you, it’s why you love him.

Holy shit. You love Mitch!

“N-no one hurt me Mitch I just, I don’t know. I got overwhelmed, and scared. I didn’t have my phone, and I couldn’t find you a-and I just shut down. God I’m so stupid! I’m an adult and I can’t even get a drink for myself.” You stare at your feet, willing the tears away that once again threaten to fall down your cheeks. In a moment, Mitch has your face in his hands tilting your head up, forcing you to look in his eyes.

“Stop that.” His eyes are looking into yours like he’s trying to read your mind. “You are so far from stupid! I’m sorry I didn’t find you faster, I’m sorry I let you go alone. You’re okay now though alright? Let’s go home yeah?” You nod, but neither of you dare to move. His face is only inches from yours, and you use this moment to just take him in. He’s absolutely beautiful. His hair falling over his forehead, his perfect skin, his blue eyes, his lips. He’s perfect. You realize you’ve been staring at his lips a beat too long when he licks his lip. The action pulls you from your daze, and you let your eyes wander back up to his, which are focused on your own lips. Your breath catches in your throat as his eyes meet yours again.

“We should go.” You awkwardly clear your throat, completely ruining whatever that was. Mitch slowly drops his hands back to his sides, shaking his head lightly.

“Yeah let’s go.”

On the other side of the world, it don't matter, I'll be there in two, I'll be there in two, I'll be there in two

Loss is something that everyone will experience at least once in their life. You have had your fair share, but none to date hurt quite like this one. Losing someone so close to your heart, and being completely alone. Your family all in a completely different province, your best friend is in a completely different country playing hockey, and you are laying completely still. Unable to move from the spot you collapsed into after the conversation with your mom.

Death wasn’t new to you, but being alone certainly was. So all you could do was cry.

You only lift your head from the pillow when your phone rings. A picture of you and Mitch flashes on the screen, letting you know he wants to FaceTime.

“Hey Mitch, how was the game?” You ask after accepting the call, but keeping your camera off.

“The game was good... did you not watch it?” He asks, rightfully confused, because you had told him you’d watch it.

“Oh well uh- something came up I’m sorry.” Your excuse is poor, but not entirely untrue. Mitch might have even let you away with it, if it weren’t for the small sniffle you let out at the end.

“Y/n are you crying?” You see the concern written on his face, as a fresh batch of tears start falling. “Please turn the camera on.”

You listen to him, no energy left in you to argue. As you see your face pop up on the screen you immediately regret it. You look awful, and Mitch’s eyes soften when he sees you. “I’m fine Mitch I just- Mom called me, and I’m just having a rough night. It just sucks being alone.”

“Is everything okay?” He questions, but you can tell he’s trying not to be pushy. All you can do is shake your head, more tears falling down your face. Mitch feels his heart break in two as he watches you fall apart on his phone screen. “I’m coming home.”

“I know you’ll be home tomorrow night, I’ll be okay. I’m sorry I’m such a mess.” You aren’t sure how you manage to string coherent sentences together, but you do. You feel silly telling Mitch you don’t like being alone, it’s not his fault he has to travel so much for work.

“No I’m coming home now. I’ll be there in 4 hours okay? Just hang in there for me alright?” You look at the screen and realize Mitch is frantically throwing things into his suitcase. After he manages to stuff everything into the suitcase he zips it up and looks back at his screen. You still haven’t responded, so he speaks again. “4 hours, and I’ll be there. I promise.”

And he kept his promise. 3 hours and 56 minutes later he crawls into your bed and holds you until you fell asleep.

I still feel it every time, it's just something that you do. Now ask me why I want to.

“Wow he’s really smitten with you isn’t he?” Audrey, Justin Holl’s wife gushes. You had just filled her and the other WAGs in on why Mitch had flown home for you just over a month ago.

“He’s a really great friend.” You smile shyly, eyes searching for the topic of conversation himself. When you find him, he’s smiling at you, him and Justin leaning against a wall both sipping beers. You send him a small wave, and he winks back at you.

“Oh come on! A ‘really good friend’ doesn’t pack up a work trip on a moments notice and fly home to you like that. This boy is totally gone for you! Honestly I assumed you two would have gotten together by now.” Audrey gestures between the two of you dramatically, and your cheeks heat up.

“He doesn’t like me like that.” You insist. If they could feel how fast your heart is racing though, they’d know just how badly you wanted what they were saying to be true.

———

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Mitch asks as he closes the apartment door behind him. You have just gotten back from Justin and Audrey’s and you’ve hardly spoken a word to him.

“Just thinking.” You mutter, hanging up your jacket and throwing your keys on the desk.

“Care to share with the class?” He chirps, smiling widely as he hangs his coat on the hook next to yours. The moment is so incredibly domestic, and your stomach is doing somersaults at the thought of it.

“Just something Audrey said.” You pause for a moment unsure if you really want to tell Mitch what’s really going through your head. “Can I ask you something?” You flop down onto the couch, watching him over the back of the couch as he grabs you both a beer from the fridge.

“Shoot!” He grins, handing you a beer and taking a seat right next to you. He pops open his beer, and leans back against the couch throwing an arm around your shoulders. He looks at you expectantly as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Why are you so nice to me?” His brows knit together in confusion, so you choose to elaborate. “Like I get that we are friends, best friends even, but you go out of your way to always be there for me. Stepping out on work to fly home to me because I’m sad, isn’t really something a best friend does. So why are you so nice? I don’t need you to take pity on me if that’s what this is. I don’t want to be a charity case.”

Mitch sits forward on the couch now. His arm no longer around you, instead both elbows are planted on his knees. He’s picking at the label on his beer like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. This isn’t a side of him you see often. Mitch Marner is nervous.

“It’s not like that at all! You aren’t a charity case!” He still hasn’t looked at you, and the distance he’s putting between you has you panicking.

“So tell me what it’s like. Come on Mitch, what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” You tease, bumping his shoulder playfully with your own. Your attempt to lighten the mood even just a little works momentarily, as a small smile breaks out on Mitch’s face.

“You really want to know why I do all of that stuff for you?” His eyes search yours now, hoping he finds the answer he’s looking for. He’s hoping that you are ready to hear what he has to say, and when you place your hand on his arm with a smile he knows it’s going to be okay. “It’s because I love you.”

It's everything about you, everything that you do. From the way that we touch, baby, to the way that you kiss on me. It's everything about you, the way you make it feel, new. Like every party is just us two, and there's nothin' I could point to. It's everything about you.

“Mitch-“ your voice is a warning. Or maybe it’s a plea. Even you aren’t sure, because your heart is in your throat right now.

“I’m serious. I love you. I think I always have, I mean what isn’t there to love? You always make me feel important, like no one else matters and I’ve been trying so hard to make you feel the same way. To make you feel like you’re worth it, because you are so worth it. I love everything about you. I love how funny, sweet, strong, and caring you are. I love how you are just so you. There is not one single thing that made me love you, it was everything. I’m sorry if this is weird for you, but I’m just being honest.” His whole body seems to relax a bit after he finishes speaking. It is almost as if you can see the weight lifting from his shoulders. A weight you hadn’t realized he carried with him, and you want so badly to apologize to him. Tell him you’re sorry for not realizing sooner, and that you wish he hadn’t carried that weight for you. You want to tell him you’re not perfect, and that he has you all wrong. Mostly though, you just want to tell him you love him too.

The only way you know how to tell Mitch exactly how you feel about him isn’t by telling him all of those things with simple words, you have to show him. So, taking a deep breath, you lift your hand from Mitch’s arm, and place gently on the back of his neck. You gently dance your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, and you feel a shiver pass through him. He slowly lifts his eyes to yours again, and without another second of hesitation you’re pulling him into you.

When his lips reach yours, you kiss him with all you have. You pour yourself into him in hopes of showing him how grateful you are for him, and how much you love him. He smiles against your lips, as he pulls you into his lap. He hugs your body to his own, and you grip his hair like you’re scared to let go.

After kissing for what feels like forever, but also not nearly long enough, you pull away to catch your breath. Your foreheads are pressed together, both of you breathing heavily, and both sporting mile wide grin.

“Wow.” Mitch breathes out, causing you to giggle. “Add that to the list.”

“List?” You ask curiously, sitting back in his lap to get a better look at him. His hair is messy, lips swollen and red, and his eyes have never looked more blue.

“The list of things I love about you. The way you kiss me, I can add that to the list of everything.” The happiness you feel in this moment has you feeling warm. Sure, maybe the way you found Mitch wasn’t conventional, but there was a reason you called him all those months ago. However it happened, you’ve never been more happy to call someone yours.

#Up All Night-series #mitch marner #mitch marner x reader #Mitch Marner fanfiction #mitch marner imagine #nhl fan fiction #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #hockey fan fiction #hockey fanfic #hockey fanfiction #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey imagines

[randombtsprincessa]

Brush His Picture

All Rights Reserved. © RandomBTSPrincessa, Tulips98.

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Words: 12.6k I am sorry for getting carried away...again.

Genre: Fluff, Angst cause it’s me

Rating: General!

Summary: Your job of writing a bio for Kim Namjoon is thrown for a spin when feelings get involved...

Warnings: It’s Namjoon. I have gushed. I am not sorry.

A/N: Firstly a warm and cuddly hug for @wynniewright​ for whom this fic is written. I enjoyed our conversations and look forward to more of those! Secondly a big hug and heaps of thanks to @casuallyimagining​ for the gif banner because I suck at those. Thirdly thanks to @thebtswritersclub​ for hosting the wonderful exchange!

Smeraldo Books, in your opinion, was the best building in the small corporate complex located just a little walking distance from your little apartment. It was slate gray; concrete and glass which gave off a cold, aloof appearance from outside, but when you entered it, it was rich creams, warm browns with tons of plants and flowers. The smell followed you, as you climbed up the floors, multicolored as should be the place where you entered new dimensions via books.

Your own floor was pastel blue, pine wood and deep tones of red and browns sprinkled here and there. If you looked hard, you’d find some pink nestled somewhere too. Today it was on your own desk. You had outdone yourself to be early today. You’d packed up everything you could think of in a sensible tote – notepad, tablet, pens, pencils, heck you’d even thrown in a sharpener and ruler scale. You’d grabbed your hello kitty travel mug, filled it with yummy hot chocolate with a touch of espresso and strode down the street to work.

You would be getting the first assignments of the incoming season today and since it was your first writing assignment overall, you wanted to make a good impression – a very good impression. Your pressed clothes and smart shoes were testament of your frazzled fluttering last night, preparing for today. Making sure you had everything; you took a deep breath and made to enter the conference room at the back of the floor.

Each floor had one, for on-floor calls and projects undertaken by the different subsets of the publishing house you worked for. Yours, in particular, was the same blue and pine, a long oval table in the centre with purple and blue mismatched chairs around it. Light streamed in clearly from the high wide windows, with glass animals on the sill throwing rainbows on the wall. In the very centre of the table was a vase, sporting the very flower that the company was named after. The ethereal blue petals blushing with pinks and violets at their veins curled delicately, recently sprayed to look dewy and fresh.

You adored these flowers; you had three pots of them at home.

***

Rena arrived at sharp 9:45. Her hair was pulled back in a sleek high ponytail that you were semi sure could cut if she – ahem, whipped her hair back and forth fast enough. You’d mentioned that during a drinking night, and had been friends since. She was your mentor in more ways than one, and you relied on her heavily, this being your first year at Smeraldo. Your appearance today would reflect on her too and you wanted her to know that she could trust you.

“Good morning, Y/N.” She smiled at you.

“Good morning, Rena. Any news for the morning?”

She shrugged, unbuttoning her navy suit. She crossed her legs. “I know seasonal meetings are important, but you don’t have to be quite so stressed about them.” She winked at you. “Don’t worry, you’ll ease into it.”

You sighed in relief. If Rena was this unbothered, you had absolutely no reason to worry.

Your steady breathing remained until about ten minutes, when at 9:55, the door was opened and the head walked in with her assistants and the other members of the floor. You shuffled to the front of your chair as the meeting commenced.

As Rena had said, it really wasn’t anything to worry about. Your head was chill enough when she presented spreadsheets, delegating people to watch the stats and curves before the real reason for the meeting was dealt with.

The ‘projects’ were the writing, the works, the foundation of Smeraldo. Every ‘project’ floor had three to four of those. The stars, who would usually grab the opportunity to head out there, do the work your creative writing professor preached about and bring in the digs. The rest of the floor was the sheep, handling excels and graphs – like commoners.

This season began with two fantasy drafts, both quickly given out to the oldest, most experienced Stars, no questions asked. They were to draft first, present later before Smeraldo published them under their banner.

“Right then,” She looked up. “Now, I don’t suppose you need to be reminded that last year we joined hands to collaborate with HYBE. It is an honor that they chose us and we intend to honor them right back, don’t we?” The words were intimidating enough for us to all nod.

“We have already worked with them so it should be easier for us to get going on the contract this time around. Right Kayla,”

We all turned to look at each other while there was silence from where the Head pointed.

***

As a part of the Smeraldo-HYBE collaboration, personal booklets for each member were released along with quarterly albums, as a sort of promotion. Last quarter, it was Min Yoongi. Now the big season project fish was Kim Namjoon. These works were separate from Smeraldo fictions but equally as important, and if the Head was to be taken seriously, even more so.

After all, BTS was worldwide famous. To do them wrong, would mean our name was mud.

Kayla was the third writer on your floor, senior to you and she had handled Mr. Min’s book. It was a given that she would take charge for the other member’s books as well…

…only…Kayla was absent…at a seasonal meeting…

The fuming ears of the floor Head suddenly told you that maybe you did have something to worry about. With all due respect to Rena, you quietly celebrated showing up an hour early.

“Where the hell is she? What’s going on?”

We stared back dumbly.

“She didn’t call in sick or called off today.” One of the assistants supplied helpfully but cowered when the Head glowered at her.

“Well, that’s all very well, but who do I brief now?”

“Not to worry, you can brief Y/N.”

There was a longer pause in which the members of your floor, simultaneously, turned to look at you. Your jaw nearly dropped, head whipping to look at Rena; the picture of ease. She looked at you and smiled.

To her credit, the Head looked equally thunderstruck. “I…Y/N?” she asked.

You looked around meekly. “Yes ma’am.”

She looked at you askance, before resolutely glancing at Rena. “You will watch her, yes?” At Rena’s nod, she turned back to you. “Miss Y/L/N, I won’t remind you that this project is extremely important to Smeraldo. I would expect your utmost best, understand?” You quickly nodded your head.

“You will be meeting with Bang Sihyuk and Namjoon himself in two days. All information about the album and the HYBE workings will be in a dossier in your mail. Don’t disappoint me.” she cast another look at Kayla’s empty chair, sighed in annoyance before swiping her files over to her assistant.

“Until next time, people,”

When the room finally emptied, you immediately turned to Rena, “Why would you do that?” You demanded.

Rena looked exactly the opposite of how you felt. Stretched onto your nerves now lay the weight of the world, your world. You had been thrilled to get an internship at Smeraldo, working your entire life around the business and after scoring an actual job here you had never thought that one day so soon you’d be at the risk of losing it.

If Kim Namjoon’s book tanked – you were dead. Dead, dead and very much dead…

“I told you, Y/N, you worry too much. This job is probably the easiest ever and since Kayla decided not to show up…I mean, come on, you’re one of our writers…the job was bound to come to you. Head madam just needed some time before she came to you. I hurried the process up. Besides, how will you learn if you don’t actually do the work?”

“But…it’s Kim Namjoon…” You mumbled.

“He’s hardly going to bite your head off, Y/N. Chin up and head to the meeting like the champ you are. You’ll be fine.” She tipped your head back with her hand before walking out herself, leaving you to scurry to your desk, feeling nowhere near as consoled as you should’ve been.

***

Two days in and you were getting dressed up yet again. Only this time, your nerves were sparking like a frayed wire no one was paying enough attention to. You chose a simple but professional outfit, worrying if there was any way anyone could nitpick on it. You ended up switching to something much more formal (and in your opinion, stuffy) attire in the wee hours of the morning, unable to get back to sleep.

HYBE’s building was situated in one of the most upscale business locales in the city. You had to take a cab to get there, already deciding that no way would you have enough time if you took a bus or the train. Already the buttons on your top felt like an over-tight corset. Thankfully, you seemed respectful and important enough to the cab driver that he stepped on the gas pedal, having you step out on the pavement in front of the building with almost twenty minutes to spare. You swigged at the espresso chocolate mix in your cup before stuffing it back into your tote.

You could do this. You had all the qualifications…if not the experience.

You could not possibly screw up that bad, could you?

According to the dossier, the meeting was set in the lounge, somewhere comfortable and open, probably a request of Namjoon’s himself. You knew enough about the man to take a guess.

Inside the building, security quickly but thoroughly sorted you out. You were patted down by a friendly lady, who smiled as she scanned you out an ID and rifled through your purse. She spotted your Hello Kitty cup and chuckled, giving you a wink that had you blushing all the way to where you were supposed to meet – directions given very kindly.

Along the way you knew. You knew that if you ever had to change jobs, you would dearly love to take one at HYBE. The place was an eclectic mix of practical and fun. There were artist posters and records and awards sprinkled around, the most prominent being BTS of course. Sunny gold lined the areas, with crisp blues and greens.

You might have even passed a little park arena.

When you reached the lounge, a sprawling area of lush moss like carpets and pink and purple art work on peach walls, there were only two other people in. The ones you were here to meet.

You recognized Namjoon from the door itself.

Insanely tall and thickly built in all the right places, he stood at a window. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his baggy khakis, a thin blue sweater hanging over his frame, hiding just how muscular he truly must be. Your lips twitched at the deep rose pink hue of his hair.

The other man must have been Mr. Sihyuk, grey suited and glasses perched on the tip of his nose, steadily going through sheaves of paper. Both men looked up at your knock on the glass doors.

Mr. Sihyuk stood up first, hand outstretched but his smile looked a little confused.

“Um, Miss Kayla…how nice to see you, again…”

It seemed like a question, his eyes scanning over your face as if trying to place you and you froze. Your hand paused just a little away from his, eyes darting around to the Idol who joined his CEO.

“It was wonderful to have you with us again on the bio projects for the albums,” He continued, seeming unfazed by your gob-smacked face. “You did a brilliant job on Yoongi’s. I was sad to be unable to meet with you before.”

Oh…dear…they didn’t know it wasn’t Kayla who was going to be on the job. Suddenly you felt like sinking through the soft carpets, right underground. They probably had dossiers of their own, with Kayla’s name across them. They didn’t know that she had slept in that one day and they didn’t know that they were now stuck with you.

“I’m – I’m afraid there's some misunderstanding, Mr. Sihyuk. My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I’m afraid Kayla was unavailable for the project.”

There was absolute silence on both ends after you finished. Mr. Sihyuk’s shoulders fell at your words, mouth parting as his eyes went scanning you again. This time you could distinctly feel him sizing you up. His eyebrows twitched up just so.

“Well then,” The other man, Kim Namjoon, the one you were supposed to write about, extended his hand. “I suppose we should rehash that welcome. Hello Miss Y/L/N, my name is Kim Namjoon. I look forward to working with you.”

You jolted a little, even stumbling forward to shake his hand, now thoroughly shaken out from your humiliated stupor.

“Forgive us, we must not have read the email citing the change.” Bang Sihyuk continued, spreading his hands genially.

“Don’t worry about it. These things can happen.” You fiddled with your bag strap with a tight smile, ignoring the urge to sway on the balls of your feet. The thick tension had still not dissipated as the three of you stood in a triangle, wondering who was going to make the first move.

It had to be you, shockingly. “So, um, shall we begin?”

You were shown a plush red armchair, Namjoon and Bang-PD taking the matching sofa as you were given the preliminary data. A small biographical book of sorts, more of a booklet if you were being honest; talking about an important segment in Namjoon’s life and his process and journey throughout the inspiration and creative take of the upcoming album. Standard, new age stuff…same as Yoongi’s…you already had Kayla’s old notes on the write up forwarded in your email.

You scribbled in small notes in your notepad while Mr. Sihyuk slid a small calendar across. “This is the tentative production and release schedule that we want to follow. There is, of course, plenty of time for you to follow Namjoon around and get a feel of the work environment, the studio life and of course, Namjoon himself. You’ll have quite a lot of time to write. The book will be issued and launched before the press conference and promotions will be done along with availability of the bio in stores.”

You studied the calendar before slipping it into your bag. “Thank you, Mr. Sihyuk. This is most helpful. We’ll be starting work from next week then?”

You were met with nods.

“Well, I’ll be off. It was wonderful to make your acquaintance, Miss Y/L/N. Please, forgive us about the whole Kayla mishap.” Bang-PD stood, you and Namjoon following and with a parting handshake he marched out of the lounge.

You began to slide in your pens and notes back in the bag when you noticed that Namjoon hadn’t followed his CEO out. Instead he stayed back; hands behind his back, watching you pack up.

You glanced up at him in question, meeting his impish small smile with a confused one of your own. “I’m sorry, I just feel so bad about the…thing before.” He said.

“Oh please, really, don’t worry. I’m, like, very new to this so it was bound to happen.” You waved a hand, slinging your tote on your shoulder, preparing to leave.

“Drive safe.” He said, gesturing for you to walk before him.

“Don’t have a car,” You blurted out instinctively before mentally slapping yourself.

“Oh, do you need a car? I’m sure we can get one to take you back to the office.”

“No, no, please.” Your ears burned at the thought of taking one of HYBE’s no doubt lavish company cars to simply take you back to Smeraldo. “I’ll just take a cab.”

You didn’t wait for his reply, shooting a quick smile and wave as you nearly rushed towards the exit.

***

Next week saw a dip in temperature, with you arriving at HYBE wrapped in a coat and scarf. You pulled off your beanie when the kind lady at the desk handed you your lanyard, this time stamped across it were the words EMPLOYEE/ COLLABORATOR. It felt heavy around your neck, the figurative noose as it were, in case you messed up.

Namjoon met you near the reception desk, jogging over from one of the elevators. “Hey!” He smiled wide, rosy hair glinting under the lights. “You’re right on time.”

“Oh,” You wondered if they were watching you for slip-ups and punctuality was one area they were scrutinizing. “On time for what?”

“To meet up; it’s so cold we’re all taking coffee breaks every ten minutes. I thought we could just work in the café?”

Namjoon rubbed his large palms together, drawing your attention to his fingers – soft and perfectly formed. You cleared your throat, shocked at yourself – tightly smiling back.

“Sure, lead the way.” As if you were going to refuse a request from Kim Namjoon himself, you and he walked the same route as you had the first time you’d come here. Only this time, you passed the lounge and followed another hallway which led to what was obviously the cafeteria. The back was lined with counters and serving tables of buffets. There were couches strewn about, booths, and tables. You felt like you were back in school. You hoped the food would be better.

Namjoon led you first to the serving tables. Stirring himself a simple cup of coffee, he turned to you. “Anything you want, you can find here. Sandwiches, subs, ramen, noodles, yeah, we have to go out if you want something more…sustainable.”

“No, this is great.” You gratefully tore open a mixer packet of hot chocolate, bringing out your own mug to put it in. you’d sipped the drink in the journey over, before finally realizing you’d emptied it.

Your new muse raised his eyebrow at the Hello Kitty but didn’t say anything, only suppressing an amused smile. You pretended not to notice that.

Once you were sitting at one of the tables near the windows, you spread your recorder, notebook, pens and cup, ready to work. “Ok, shall we start?”

Namjoon took the final gulp of his coffee, nodding.

“Right so, you’re going to be writing the prologue of the book yourself.” You muttered, flitting through the primary requirements.

“Yep, it’ll be more of a front to my thoughts which you’ll be writing about. It’ll be a personal note to the members, the staff and ARMY from me. Something that is completely mine but it will set the tone for your work.” Namjoon turned his phone to you, tapping a note on it. “I already have the first draft for it. It’ll be revised of course but I’ll email it to you so you can start with that.”

You picked up your pen and then it was only Namjoon talking about how the primary idea for the album came to life and began to gestate in his mind. You found it incredible, how a small incident or a sound could inspire someone like that. You’d never had any experience that moved you like that. You told him as such, wistful of the kind of inspiration that might never ever come.

Namjoon placed an elbow on the table, looking keenly at you. “You’re a writer.” He pointed out.

“Not really; I am working as such, yeah, but I wouldn’t say I’ve been inspired by anything. You have. I think you’ve been inspired since you were…what, fifteen?”

“I had a different beginning than yours, yes. But you can’t compare inspiration with experience. Experience comes after inspiration. Before, there’s only the feeling, the emotion that leads to it. Would you say that you started writing out of just an everyday inspiration, or did you feel something for the craft that drove you to it?”

“I wouldn’t say that’s a fair comparison.” You fiddled with the pages of notes. “I know your beginning, of course, everyone does. I didn’t have that kind of harsh circumstances pushing me to motivation. To be very honest…I’d say I’ve breezed past life. I love my job, but I don’t have much to show in the journey to it.”

Namjoon was silent for a few moments. His tongue poked into his cheek as he regarded you shrewdly. Finally, he gave you a sweet smile, eyes scrunching and dimples popping. Your pen stopped twirling in your fingers, blood easing in your veins at the simple change of expression.

“And that’s okay,” he said, “Not everyone should have to suffer through awful situations to achieve things they aim for. Success shouldn’t be measured in tears, Y/N. The point of life, in my opinion, is happiness and in the end that is what matters; the fact that you end up happy.”

You blinked as Namjoon’s blinding smile dimmed, turning into moonshine as he ran a finger over the rim of his empty cup. The seconds stretched by, you silently removing your gaze from his and taking down everything he had said. Your eyes wanted very badly to return to his face but you kept them firmly on the page, pondering his words, until you realized through your daze that he was speaking again.

“I’m sorry again, about PD-nim and the whole Kayla thing. The email we got was sitting in the inbox but we weren’t informed and neither did we think of checking the company email before the meeting itself.” His voice had softened, turned apologetic that had you hurrying to ease his conscience.

“I already told you, it’s no biggie, really.” You insisted.

“It must’ve been nerve-wracking, especially on the first day.”

You huffed, air whistling from your lips at him, before acquiescing, “Yeah, ok, maybe a little.”

That moonshine smile brightened again, defeating the sun beams that streaked through the windows. “Allow me to make up for it by giving you a tour of our studios. Same time, tomorrow.”

At that time, you were only glad that you could gaze at his face without an excuse.

***

It took you a few days, getting used to the new schedule. You were used to the short walk from your home to Smeraldo. You were used to the morning crispness on your cheeks, the thud of your feet on the pavement and then the warm confines of your office cubicle.

The new pattern involved you having to catch a cab everyday to HYBE. It wasn’t too expensive thankfully, and the hours you spent in the expanse of HYBE, shadowing Namjoon to his haunts and work areas was starting to prove much more enjoyable and rewarding than anything you’d be doing in Smeraldo.

You were drawn into the chatter and gossip of the makeup artists, the lady who intercepted you daily at the desk struck up more conversations with you when you entered. She had a son, you’d learned. Her husband worked away from the city but he commuted every weekend and they found time for getaways whenever they could.

The most jolting experience was meeting the rest of Bangtan.

Namjoon had asked you to accompany him to one of the group practices and when you entered the huge mirrored room, you spotted the rest of the boys sitting here and there, some on their phones, the other stretching.

“Hey guys,” Namjoon slipped the strap of his work out bag over his head, turning slightly to the side to show you standing behind him to the rest of the idols. You raised a hand awkwardly, waving.

“You brought a friend?” One of the men at the back asked – Jimin, with his baby features and an inquisitive smile.

“Actually, this is Y/N. She’s the one doing the bio book for the album for me this time.” He placed a hand gently on your back, pushing you ahead when you failed to step forward.

“Uh, hi,” you mumbled, “nice to meet you all. I’m Y/N.”

“Yeah, Hyung just said.”

Your cheeks immediately heated, helplessly turning to the one who’d spoken.

“Yah, Jungkook-ah, be nice.” A taller man – Jin - smacked the back of the maknae’s head, before smiling at you. “It is very nice to meet you, Y/N. Are you going to be working while we practice?”

The gentle voice of the older man did wonders for you. Reminded of Rena’s composure, you immediately brightened, bowing to them naturally. “Yes sir, I am supposed to be shadowing Mr. Kim so…I hope you don’t mind.”

This made them burst out laughing – Namjoon included.

“‘Mr. Kim’, wow, Namjoon you’ve traumatized the girl. Please don’t be so formal, we’re not used to it.” Jin chortled.

Namjoon rolled his eyes, taking your elbow gently to guide you to sit on one of the cushions against the back wall. “You can sit here and watch. We won’t kick you in the face that way.” He winked and you managed a weak giggle back when you had recovered enough.

Why, oh why did he have to be so attractive? In those loose black shorts, that blasted white tank, you hadn’t been able to quite meet his eyes ever since you’d met him today.

You decided to obey the laws of ‘work’ as BTS practiced their routines. You pulled out your usual supply of pens and your trusty notebook and began to scrawl everything you’d observed, this time the process of choreography and how the dynamics between the group members and Namjoon worked in these hard routines. It took you about five pages, filling out and circling details that you would highlight in the bio.

Soon enough, you ran out of work to distract you. You folded your hands in your lap neatly, simply watching in awe. Each member hit the beat with a different type of attitude. If Jungkook was sleek as a panther, Hoseok was a coiled serpent, but none of them ever missed a beat. There was a tandem between them all, which made you sure that they took this very seriously. After all, they were known for their work ethic and it was their bread and butter.

They couldn’t slack in this just as much as you couldn’t slack in the bio.

Your eyes drifted back to Namjoon. Even though you knew, he wouldn’t describe himself as a dancer primarily, he was no less behind in his steps than his members. He moved with an awkward grace not unlike people of his height. God of Destruction – you remembered – and yet, you couldn’t help but watch when he moved. His chin jutted in concentration and you balled your fist under your chin, chiding yourself.

You were self aware enough to recognize the flow of your emotions and right now, they were particularly worrying. You were in awe of Kim Namjoon, anyone with any semblance of sense would be. He was intelligent, chivalrous, generous, charming, thoughtful, and humorous and in the days you’d worked with him, more than just books and music. He was a fun and charming person to be around and he attracted people like moths.

But…he was way beyond human leagues.

Someone like Kim Namjoon couldn’t be human. He had to be some eldritch being, put together into conception out of pure matter and stardust. There was no way his mind and his soul were meant to be meandering on this planet. And while you were aware he was far from purposeless, you wondered if he would ever be satisfied with his purpose in time.

Maybe…maybe not…

And you, as the self aware person as you were, couldn’t – shouldn’t – be having such tumultuous emotions regarding him. He was pink roses, a dusty shade of gold that had been polished and made to shine from a young age and he basked in the glow of adoration. He was at a peak you couldn’t hope to touch.

Never mind the fact that feelings mixing with work were always dangerous. You had no room for failure if these got in the way. You couldn’t afford to lose your job. You would lose everything you had staked and for what? You couldn’t throw your life away for an unattainable man. You sighed, closed your eyes and ducked your head before any of the men could notice your hard stares.

***

If you had to pick a climax for your journey with Namjoon, you’d pick the day he texted you a weekly schedule filled with interviews and media covered events that you couldn’t shadow him to. What would you do? You couldn’t exactly carry a notepad and pens in your mouth after him like a loyal puppy while he did his job. The interviews were okay, all you had to do was stand at the back behind the camera and note the way he answered his questions and if it was an English interview, the way he deflected stupid and rude questions from his members. Although it was clear by their now unimpressed faces they knew exactly what was going on.

The trouble was the red carpet event that you couldn’t push through. It would be a shame too, since this would be one of the prime times to jot a piece of Namjoon down. In front of flashing cameras, strutting with his head held high, knowing and projecting assurance. It would’ve been a great detail in the bio.

Apparently Namjoon thought the same, because as soon as he saw blue ticks in your text chat, he called you.

“So, what do you think?” He asked.

“About what, the event…? It’s too bad, I’ll watch it on TV and you can tell me how it goes over ice-cream.” You answered, in the face of his snort.

“Or…you could just come with me as my plus one. As a friend, of course, you can sit with that little note of yours and keep writing while people scream in my ear.”

You clutched the phone hard. He wanted you to come with him? He wanted to take you with him to an event? A red carpet event at that…on his arm, with people around…but as friends of course…

“Um…it’s kind of short notice…I don’t even have a dress.” You hedges unsteadily, hoping he didn’t notice the abrupt breathiness of your voice.

“You don’t have to worry about that. I have a fashion extraordinaire handy. Text me your dress size,”

The next you heard from Namjoon was when a huge, pure white box made its way to your apartment door. The delivery man took your signature on a tablet, wearing a sleek blue shirt and pressed pants that nowhere in the world could be a uniform for couriers.

You carried the heavy box to your couch in confusion, fingers fluttering with the navy blue ribbon around it in trepidation. Should you dare open it? It looked very expensive. Maybe this was a mistake and it got delivered to you in a mix up. But it couldn’t be. The name on the tablet was yours, the address yours…

You took a deep breath and pulled the knot loose.

The ribbon fell away gracefully, the top of the box grasped in your fingers and then you opened it up.

If you weren’t holding your breath…you’d have gasped.

Inside was a gown. Ok, that was a massive understatement. The fabric was thick, layers and layers of silk and glitter draped over each other to make a thing of dreams. The delicate straps of it felt like gauze, slipping over your skin when you pulled it out in pure awe.

You couldn’t possibly wear something like this. You could never pull it off. You glanced at the mirror near your door, the skirts catching the light of your room and sparkling.

You’d be wearing a million stars sewn on your body.

Your phone chimed the very moment your weak fingers were about to drop the dress, a sacrilege that proved you unworthy of it.

Hope you liked it J I’ll pick you up at 7.

And he didn’t take your calls. He didn’t hear you out. He didn’t listen to you list the reasons why you couldn’t do this, shouldn’t do this.

Your heart was already beating drums in your chest, each set letting you know that it was misreading this gesture. Namjoon wasn’t wooing you with this dress. He was simply making sure you didn’t look like a garbage can next to him. After all, red carpets meant celebrities, paparazzi, superior expectations. He couldn’t afford to show up with someone looking like they had barely been able to put together an outfit fit for the walk.

After hours of trying, at five you gave up, beginning to get dressed.

You washed and dried your hair, putting it up in a roll that was easy and you had mastered for your interview. It couldn’t be faulted…maybe it was a little simple but hey, you hoped the attention wouldn’t be on your hair. Not with that dress…

As you had guessed, the dress was heavy, weighing your body down till you had to carefully bunch handfuls of the sparkling skirt just to walk. You paired it with the lowest heels you owned, and a simple silver set – a gift from your parents upon graduating.

The brilliant shade of lipstick applied, you prayed and prayed that Namjoon wouldn’t find you disappointing. Of course, only so; that you wouldn’t be a source of embarrassment to him and HYBE and Smeraldo. It had nothing to do with you wishing you could be swallowed by the earth if Namjoon looked even slightly put off.

He arrived sharp at seven, even climbing out to greet you. Your trip in the elevator had been thankfully solo. No peeking neighbors to comment on your appearance but of course the building manager caught sight of you, gaping through the glass door of his office. You hoped he wouldn’t attempt to raise your rent.

Sleek and pristine in a black suit and silver shirt, open at the throat, your breath did catch at the vision he made. His hair was pushed back now and he grinned when you slowly tottered over. “Hi,” he said simply, eyes glinting in the glow of the dress.

“Hey, you didn’t take my calls.” You blurted out, again wanting to smack yourself.

“Yeah, I’m sorry; I got busy with speech training and fittings. They messed up though; I’m wearing shoes one size big.” You and he both glanced down at the polished black shoes with silver toes. you shook your head at the distraction.

“Namjoon, this dress…it’s too much; I can’t say anything right now but thank you.”

“Don’t thank me – it was Taehyung who picked it out.” His eyes moved down the dress before he looked away suddenly, hand moving to rub his neck. “You look great – beautiful, I mean.”

“Thank you.”

“Shall we?”

Namjoon helped you climb into the car, bending down so he could collect about nine drapes and pleats of silk to lay them on the car floor before shutting you in. You glanced at the driver of the Cadillac that Namjoon had brought and decided to stay mum for the drive.

The sprawling expanse of the hall where the gala was taking place sent you into nervous jitters. You touched the edge of the top, wondering if it was tight enough, if the necklace was enough to draw attention away. Of course, the dress was the highlight of your outfit, but suddenly all you could think of were the faux pas that could get you kicked out and possibly fired.

You had no time to turn to Namjoon with these worries, to beg him to allow you to stay in the car when valets were opening the doors.

Flashing lights, camera with too bright heads blinded you momentarily and all you heard was a quiet ‘wait’ from Namjoon before he was exiting the car.

He shot easy smiles at the front line of the media before turning to assist you. Maybe they realized that Kim Namjoon had indeed brought someone with him because the screams increased in pitch and volume, deafening you as well.

You were completely disoriented when you felt Namjoon’s arm go casually around your waist, one hand still holding your skirts so he could walk you at least to the main photo calls and away from the paps.

“Hey, easy, okay, they’re always like that. Are you okay?” Namjoon mumbled in your ear when you were a safe distance away, turning you to face him.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m okay…I just…wow, it’s a lot to take in.” You grabbed the skirts that Namjoon had let go and began to set them around you properly.

“Okay, all we have to do is walk this bit, get some photos, talk to that man at the end and then we can head in.”

You followed Namjoon's instructions quietly. Smiling lightly, when Namjoon posed in the centre of the carpet with the logo of the sponsors behind you two; Your posture probably wasn’t the most glamorous because the camera man shrugged before letting you pass – to the interviewer.

“Kim. Namjoon.” The white suited man gasped as if Namjoon had just landed from outer space and said something scandalizing.

“Oh dear, should I be worried?” Namjoon laughed breezily but his hold on your back stiffened.

“Not at all, it seems…who is the lucky lady? We’ve never seen you. Are we finally seeing the elusive RM being snatched up off the market?” The man took the time to level a polite smile at you before Namjoon waved his hand.

“Rubbish; I could never hope to snag someone like her. This is my friend; she’s accompanying me as part of a job.”

You noticed he never gave your name, thankfully.

“Ah…just friends? Pity, you look stunning together.”

“She is stunning but I would never claim to be as lucky as that. Do please excuse us, heels and all.” The interviewer laughed as Namjoon ushered you inside the hall.

Your smile had glazed over by now and when Namjoon sat you in one of the chairs next to him, you made sure to not move too much while he had to mingle.

As heavy as the gown was, the weight of it was something completely different now. Your wings had wilted back into nothingness, bringing you down to the earth with a less than pleasant thump.

Here, in the hall with actual stars around you, it didn’t matter if stars covered your body tonight. You couldn’t be part of this. You belonged in your cubicle at Smeraldo with books that had been your lifelong companions.

You weren’t stupid. You knew Namjoon being an idol was a consequence as well as reality. His proximity had blinded you, with those bewildering smiles and irresistible dimples. He’d poetically woven a spell that with him being now gone was breaking.

You were worlds apart.

Maybe this could be a story someday.

But it would never be reality.

***

Your realization couldn’t have come at a more opportune moment. As days went by, time spent with Namjoon waned; instead you went back to your little pastel cubicle, typing away at your laptop, pouring facts mixed with sentiment onto the digital document.

Soon, pages of this would be flying off the shelves along with an album. Your connection with Namjoon would be severed and you both would part ways as acquaintances.

That would be that. You tried not to think too much of it like that. It colored your work a little melancholy and you’d have to go back and redo it so it would be upbeat.

It was one of those days of you clacking away when a shadow fell over your cubicle. You didn’t lift your eyes at first, engrossed in the mild noises your keys made when the presence started to…feel hostile. You glanced up curiously, meeting the curve of an arm first and perched on it, was the weight of Kayla.

She wasn’t looking at you; instead her eyes were on the screen of your laptop, reading your work with a tilt to her head that – to you – was condescending.

“Kayla,” You called in confusion and her eyes flitted to you.

“Carry on, carry on, I’m just going to watch. I want to see how you’re going to do this.” Maybe you were paranoid…but she definitely sounded snide.

“Do what, type…?” you mumbled under your breath, about to turn back to work but she heard you and decided to answer.

“I want to see the new worker ruin Namjoon’s story. That way we can all go back to our normal lives.”

You stopped. Your eyes widened in surprise at the blatant vehemence. You turned to her.

“Excuse me, but I’m not ruining anything. It was you, who decided to sleep in and you who missed the meeting. If anything, you’re the one who ruined your shot.”

“It wasn’t a ‘shot’ for me, Y/N. It was a guaranteed project. I was sick, it happens. I’m just surprised they let the newbie take on such a big collab. But then again, being a lapdog pays in this industry. Connections are more important than talent, I’ve heard.”

“Yeah, you definitely would be the one doing Namjoon’s story justice with that attitude.” You snapped back. If there was one thing you wouldn’t stand for, it was her sullying Rena.

She smiled again, removing herself from your cubicle wall. “Petty fights don’t matter to me, Y/N. I’m still your senior and soon enough I’ll be back to doing my rightful share of work.” She walked off in a very final manner, leaving you to stare after her a good while before you could turn back to your screen.

The blinking cursor taunted you, each second that passed without it budging, a point in proving that Kayla may have been right. You growled internally, rubbing your dry eyes.

You needed a change of view.

***

Your laptop was now perched on the same table you and Namjoon had sat on that first day. Your back was to the rest of the café, eyes free to drift out the window. You sipped on a simple smoothie and tapped away, making good progress. At this rate you could hand in the first draft in less than a week. A hundred pages worth of a booklet formed much easier when your mind was clear. You wondered again if you could change places here.

You hoped at least this way you’d be safely out of Namjoon’s path and could also enjoy the lovely environment of the building. After all, one sin didn’t have to equate to ditching another, did it?

No sooner had your mind finished that thought when you heard his voice. Your fingers rattled over your keyboard, printing the stupid version of words on your screen and you had to halt in case he had seen you and was coming over.

When you didn’t hear that cheerful deep voice that was now uncomfortably familiar to you approach from behind, you took the chance to peek over your shoulder, just to see how he was – just that.

He wasn’t alone, thankfully. Next to him stood another familiar figure; much shorter and just as broad. Min Yoongi hadn’t been very verbose with you when you’d been introduced but then again, you knew the man wasn’t a fan of small talk with strangers. He was under no obligation to chat you up and you weren’t expecting him to either.

They finally picked up their orders, sitting at one of the tables in your line - Comfortably far away so that they wouldn’t notice you; but also within earshot of you. You sighed, returning your attention to the document on your screen.

“So, how’s the book coming? Any news yet?” You heard Yoongi’s baritone.

“Not yet, but I’m sure it’s going to come along fast. Give or take a few days maybe,” Namjoon took a loud gulp, scrolling through his phone.

“I hope so. She was new, wasn’t she? I didn’t remember seeing her when it was my turn. It was that other girl…Kayla something. What’s your girl’s name again?”

You silently cleared your throat, expecting Namjoon to snap in that you weren’t ‘his girl’ but he only hummed. “It’s Y/N. We messed up that day, called her Kayla. Guess we must have thrown her off her game that whole day, but she was amazingly professional. It was stupid too, that email was sitting right in the office email, and an intern missed it and didn’t tell us.”

“That’s what happens when you don’t treat your workers right. Even interns are deserving of respect. Maybe if they were catered to the way the company expects them to cater to it, it would -,”

“Hyung, I love your rants – but please.”

Yoongi shrugged, taking a bite out of his sandwich. You cracked a smile, biting your lip to stifle a giggle at Namjoon’s dazed expression.

“So, what’s she like? You hung out with her quite a lot.” Yoongi’s voice dipped, muttering something to Namjoon whose fingers stopped scrolling, a pensive expression on his face now. You glanced back at your screen, frowning, wondering what Yoongi must’ve said.

Namjoon didn’t answer for a long time and you had to keep glancing over, just in case he was actually muttering too and you were just not hearing anything but nope. He remained silent for a good long while, staring down at the coffee cup in front of him.

“I think…I think I would’ve preferred to work with this Kayla.”

You froze, your fingers hovering over the keys, making zero noise. You wished the other people in the café would quiet down and Namjoon would repeat himself but only this time you’d hear something else, something positive, something not so utterly crushing.

“Oh, she’s not up to the standard?” Yoongi asked.

“It’s…its stupid. I know it’s a shitty thing for me to say, but -,” But he was still going to go ahead and do it. He was still going to get those words out, unaware that you were able to hear him and have your gut wrenched.

What was wrong with you? Why were you not good enough to work with Kim Namjoon? Was it the rambling or blurting out thing? Was it the inability to retain composure? Had you messed up during a meeting that he was holding a grudge against? Did you somehow embarrass him during the gala? Had he already complained about you to his management and members, told them that this was the last time you were to work with them?

They had hushed up now, clearly having a private conversation and you were thankful. You didn’t know how you could handle hearing more. And you definitely didn’t want the rest of HYBE staff to hear how pathetic you were to their stars. If word got back to Smeraldo, you’d be fired. You’d lose everything.

You shut the laptop screen quietly, a hand sliding your things from the table top straight into your bag. Slinging your stuff onto your shoulders, you walked out of the room – out of the building – away from anything related to BTS.

***

You were resolute the next day, walking into Smeraldo with no words of greeting spoken to anyone. You got to your floor and then marched straight into Rena’s office, hurriedly knocking the prologue to the urgency of your matter.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Did something happen?” Rena frowned, actually getting up from her seat when you stumbled in.

Something did happen, yes. I got way in over my head.

“I…I…need to um, change – the BTS project. I can’t do it anymore.” The words rushed out, thick and unintelligible but Rena apparently got the gist of it because she dropped her shoulders, crossing her arms.

“What happened?” she asked flatly.

I have a crush on my subject and he thinks I’m the worst thing to happen since the rise of patriarchy.

“Nothing serious; I just…I’m not cut out for this Rena. I told you that day of the meeting. It’s too much, I can barely sleep, can’t eat.”

Ok, provided that was only one day because your mind was too obsessed thinking about what you heard but still – you could definitely apply the cases.

“What are you talking about? You just gave me your stats two days ago. You were fifty three pages in and climbing.”

“Yeah well I’m not happy with it. I’ve been writing in a daze. Please Rena.” You begged; you’d have gotten on your knees at that point but mercifully, after about nine seconds of shrewdly eyeing you, she finally sighed.

“Well, I can’t say I’m not disappointed – and very, very surprised. You’re one of the better writers at Smeraldo, Y/N; I wouldn’t have pushed you for this if you weren’t. I believed in you. But I can’t make you work if you’re not happy and I certainly can’t let it affect this collaboration. It wouldn’t help anyone – so…fine. We’ll make the change. I’ll have the boss send an email…and you can personally go and hand Kayla all your material on the job so she can start as soon as possible. We still have time to make it up I think.”

You nodded, surreptitiously wiping a streak of moisture that had escaped without notice before you paused. And then you put in a request for Rena to consider before grabbing all your notes, drafts and your work laptop and walking up to Kayla’s more spacious cubicle.

She was reading a magazine when you tapped the side wall, eyes rising up to yours before her eyebrows raised at the amount of things you were carrying. Without preamble, you let them crash on to her neat desk.

“Uh, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m not doing Namjoon’s bio anymore. They want you to do it.” Namjoon wanted her, in particular.

Kayla stopped scowling, looking at you in confusion before her face darkened again. “Listen Y/N, I don’t care much for charity -,”

“It’s not. I swear it’s not Kayla. I really, really can’t do it anymore. Please…please just take it off my hands.”

Slowly, her face cleared, eyes still examining yours for any insincerity before she picked up your notebook, carding through the pages.

“It’s a little shocking, I’ll admit but fine. But you…why are you giving it up? It’s BTS. It’s probably the biggest break you’d ever get.”

You shrugged, unwilling to converse more than necessary about this. “I just felt bad…and ill about it.” You didn’t exaggerate and Kayla didn’t ask you to elaborate. You glanced down at the biggest bag which you’d placed under her desk. The box was still exquisitely white and unblemished.

“Can you just do me one last favor?”

“What?”

“When you see Namjoon, can you give that bag back to him? Tell him thanks for everything.”

***

The days passed quickly, each one easier than the last as you decided to stuff your stupid, pointless feelings – hurt and otherwise into one single compartment: DO NOT TOUCH.

Namjoon had had to meet with Kayla quickly, to put in effect the plans that the senior writer was going to play with. She already had your notes, but they would still have to spend some time together just so she could get a feel of his prologue and run with it.

It had taken about two visits from Kayla before your phone started to act up.

He sent a text first. At a decent time…you were at work, taking a small break when the ping came. You promptly slid the notification aside and pushed the nagging in your head to look at it into that one compartment. An hour passed…then another before another message came. You couldn’t help but glance at the words even as you slid it out of focus.

Are you ok? What’s going on?

Namjoon didn’t text again for the remainder of the day and you heaved a sigh of relief. It would be easier to not mess with that box of goodies in your head if only anything pertaining to Kim Namjoon was taken out of your path.

Only…he decided to call you…

As soon as you entered your little apartment and took off your shoes, flexing your toes, the trill of your ringtone made you fumble in your bag. You almost slid the call to accept, catching yourself just in time when you saw the big white KIM NAMJOON flashing on the ID.

You stared at the name, a proverbial finger dancing over the latch of the compartment. But you couldn’t…you couldn’t mope over him again; you had given an entire day of wallowing up to his name.

Again, you heard him preferring Kayla. You placed the phone onto the coffee table and went into the bathroom to change.

Namjoon’s persistence remained impressive though. He called and texted every day ranging from thrice to five times. Almost every time you frowned. You had given him Kayla. What more could he want? He was desperate to know if you were okay, wondering if something had happened to you and that Smeraldo was trying to cover it up but you couldn’t bring yourself to put him at ease.

Also, it was getting steadily difficult to keep his name out of your life. BTS was worldwide, he was a global entity. He was everywhere…the media, the news, there were even fucking standees in malls for them.

But your job was keeping you busy, mercifully.

The day you had gone to Rena to ask her to put Kayla on the bio project and take you off, you’d also asked to be moved to a different section of jobs, just for the time being – till you could come back to yourself, or so you told her.

In reality, the editing and beta reader position that you now held was time consuming and kept you focused and engrossed enough to not think about the idol. Not every piece of writing was amazing, but fiction was fiction and you gladly succumbed to romances and fantasies that were wildly improbable - simply because they were possible in their worlds.

You could not be more grateful to Rena for this. You finished more than your quota of three manuscripts a day, sometimes even staying up at night if one was particularly interesting. You knew you’d have to go back to writing someday but for now, you wanted to do a good job so you wouldn’t let down Rena more than you already had.

You shuddered to think of returning to your laptop. It was a mistake to think that you were cut out for this job. There was a certain level of coldness required to be a writer – the sheaves of paper in front of you proved that. You had none of that ruthlessness in you. You were too soft, too sheltered. You had grown attached to a subject that you were supposed to present as facts. Instead you had painted him in a fantastic palette of misdirected emotions that he was under no obligation to act upon.

And so now you were hurt…and it was your own fault.

To write again, you would first need a spine, one forged in titanium instead of the malleable clay that had wrapped around the fingers of others so easily.

In some days of your ruminations…Namjoon stopped calling and texting and you were then rudely interrupted by Kayla, striding over to deliver news you hadn’t asked for.

“Mr. Kim took the dress back.” she announced as soon as she pressed herself at your desk. You looked up from your fourth manuscript of the day, peering at her through your glasses. Your back was sore and your neck felt lodged.

“He’s asking about you.”

“Okay,” you said slowly, clearing your throat before reaching for a bottle of water. “I’m okay.”

“He said he reached out but you never responded. Why don’t you respond? He’s obviously concerned.” She continued, putting an unnecessary emphasis on ‘obviously’. It irked you.

“He was my subject matter. Now he’s not. It’s inappropriate.” You barely kept from snapping, shrugging noncommittally. Kayla was still there, eyeing you in that way, that made you feel smaller than her.

“Well, I don’t think he feels it’s inappropriate. He’s enquiring about someone he considers a friend. He’s been known to care about friends.”

You put the manuscript down finally. You looked up at her blankly but she didn’t flinch. Instead Kayla returned your heavy look with one of hers, raking you down with an appraising look. After a few moments of silence she gracefully straightened and turned on her heel, returning to her cubicle.

You picked up your manuscript again.

***

The cursor was blinking again. The walls of your cubicle needed a wipe down. Some of the pens in your drawer needed replacing. You revolved on your chair once – twice – thrice before facing the darn cursor again.

It had been two days since Rena had asked (basically commanded) you to return to your original post. One because you had gotten through the work she’d set aside for you. Second because Smeraldo’s projects were lining up and they needed their writers to buck up. You being one of them now needed to get in the game.

Or you would lose your job. After all, even though Rena treated you like a sister, it didn't mean she was going to baby you forever. Her own job would be on the line.

So you returned, starting out slow, with slogans and advertising scripts. Only…advertisements meant media research…and you knew what you were going to see the first thing you delved into that.

When your phone rang, you were almost eager to get to it. Namjoon hadn’t called in a while – it was safe again. You glanced at the unfamiliar number once, curious before you pressed the accepted call to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Y/N,”

The deep thrum of his voice reverberated in your ear, travelling straight through your heart – setting it to thump unsteadily – and landed deep in your belly, burning uncomfortably.

Your fingers tightened around the device, unable to speak, unable to pull it away from your ear, unable to comprehend simply hanging up. Instead you helplessly muttered his name. The two syllables were heavy on your tongue, some emotion injected in them that you doubted he could sense over the phone.

It irked you that you had so easily been caught unaware. You had paid attention to every text, every call for so long, swiping him out of your sight to avoid the temptation and here he was, smartening up and using another number altogether.

You guessed his IQ really did pay off.

When he spoke again, there was no weight in his tenor, no sense of concern that Kayla had said he felt about your absence. If anything he sounded cold, indifferent – as if you were just another person he was talking to.

And you were...you couldn’t mean anything to him.

“How have you been? It’s been quite some time.” He said, formal, aloof.

“Yeah, I’ve...I’ve been keeping busy. What...about you? How are you?” You mumbled.

“I’m fine. The bio is going on fine, I heard from Kayla.” He seemed to be moving while he spoke, you could hear distinct shuffles around him.

“That’s nice. So, is something wrong? Did you need something? If you lost Kayla’s number –”

“Can I not call you unless there was something wrong?” he cut you off smoothly, pleasant while you stumbled to correct yourself.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just –”

“Anyway, so the boys wanted to throw a party in celebration of the album finalization. It’s a dinner and games thing so be prepared to be bored if you’re not into that. They wanted to invite you because you were part of the bio making process.”

They...they were inviting you, not him. It seemed silly, to be stung by such a tiny little detail but you couldn’t help the down-turn of your lips, the frown settling upon your brows. “What about Kayla?”

“I don’t know, maybe one of the boys will get to it. So, do I count you in?”

“Why me, Namjoon, I left the project, didn’t I?”

“Is that a no?”

You sighed, annoyance surging at the way he deliberately ignored your pointed remarks. “Fine, I’ll be there.”

“See you at 7. You know where the dorm is. Just tell the front desk you’re here for BTS and give them your name.”

He hung up before you could spill out another question, pose another objection. You looked irate at the blackened screen, feeling used and mocked yet again. He had reached you so long after you cut him off and he had had the gall to sound miffed with you? You stuffed the phone back into your back.

The evening would last long. You vowed that this would be the last time you would have anything to do with Kim Namjoon.

***

You had been intimidated by the idea of BTS before. After spending a few days with Namjoon, you could appreciate them being normal men, seven men who just wanted to make music, who were young, a little dorky but overall just themselves.

Coming here, standing in front and looking up at the gigantic building that housed the dorm of BTS and their separate private apartments, you could only feel the previous nerves spiking again.

Your fingers were shaky as you pushed open the heavy glass door, thick enough to stop bullets and made your way to the marble front desk.

The concierge, decked out in a cream vest outfit, politely smiled at your approach – too professional to not rove his eye critically over your modest dress. You were at the dorm of BTS, after all. You couldn’t show up in jeans for a dinner party.

He nodded when you relayed your name, giving Namjoon’s reference which had them flurry to get you an elevator. Once trapped in the sleek metal box, the chiming numbers indicated your rising panic.

What were you doing?

Why were you here?

You had cut them out of your life for a reason. Why would you willingly show up again? Inside, of course, you knew the reason. You had unsettled issues. You wanted to talk this out with him. But you couldn’t – which again, added to the question as to why you would accept his invitation in the first place?

There was no way you were brave enough to stand in front of Kim Namjoon and ask him to explain himself.

When the doors opened; the wide hallway only led to one set of double doors. You looked around once; just to make sure that you were on the right floor and not about to barge into some unwitting souls’ suite.

Walking to the etched wood, you knocked a hurried patter that sounded abnormally loud. You didn’t even have to wait long. The door swung open almost immediately, as if he was waiting right inside for you.

Namjoon stood in a simple black long sleeve, rolled up till his elbows. His jeans stretched tightly along the length of those legs. Huh, he was wearing jeans...go figure...

“Come in Y/N.” He said, walking back into the house. You followed, slower, clutching your bag strap like the first day.

It was...relatively clean, being the house full of men. It was also too big for you to take in everything. You supposed they needed the space, each one with a personality of their own but together all the time. You wondered if they had studios in the two storey house too.

You focused on Namjoon, who had by now moved to the sitting area, flicking through some pages, not paying any attention to you. There was no sound. No one came to greet you, not even Jin who you thought was the actual host.

It was...suspiciously quiet.

“Namjoon,” You called. “Where is everyone?” 

The man only shrugged his shoulders for a second and it seemed that he wasn’t about to answer your question at all. However, at the very last moment when you were about to repeat yourself unwillingly, he muttered. “They went out to eat.”

What?

They were out to eat? After calling you over to have dinner and play games? 

“So...we have to go and join them or something?” you asked.

Namjoon sighed painstakingly, as if you were disturbing his peace but he finally dropped the papers onto the coffee table and stood up, hands in his pockets.

“No, Y/N, we’re not going to join them.”

What the hell was going on here exactly?

“We’re going to talk.”

You had opened your mouth when he finished his sentence, pausing in contemplation to what he could possibly want to talk about. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying I want answers, Y/N. Why did you stop coming over all of a sudden? Why did you stop working on the bio and give it to Kayla? Why didn’t you pick up your phone when I called you? Why didn’t you answer my texts? What the fuck happened?”

You blinked, once, staring at him in shock mingled with annoyance. There was a lot to Kim Namjoon; you would be the first to admit it. But you never took him to be this cruel.

“Why are you even asking me these questions? I wasn’t competent enough for you. So I did the right thing, I gave the work to someone who could match your standards. End of story; I don’t understand why you had to bring me here.” Your vehemence faded by the end of it, leaving you to drop your head and mumble half the words at your shoes.

You kept staring down when Namjoon didn’t say anything in retaliation. Seconds ticked by and finally you had to glance up to see Namjoon’s face tight, jaw clenched and he drummed his fingers over crossed arms. 

“Unfortunately,” He began when your eyes met. “Doubt and Insecurity are two things that every artist struggles with in their line of work. There are no ways around them; you simply have to push through them. Work through them, Y/N; but you can’t let it take you away from your passion. If you felt doubtful of yourself, you should’ve talked to me, or any of us...you didn’t have to brand yourself incompetent and give into this negativity.”

If you had two cents of courage you would’ve screamed at him. Indeed, Kim Namjoon was a cruel man – a blind man.

And your nerves had finally grown into something more ferocious.

“I gave in? I’m sorry, Namjoon, but when your client is the one that ‘brands’ you incompetent, you kind of have to give in. You are the one who said you preferred Kayla. So I gave you exactly what you wanted. So stop pretending like you care about my insecurities and my doubts.”

Namjoon gaped at you like a fish, eyes wide and thoroughly confused. He held up a hand immediately. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

You snapped. “I heard you, that day, talking to Yoongi about how you would’ve preferred it if it was Kayla who was working on the bio rather than me. If I was bothering you that much or if you found me – I don’t know, not a good writer, you could’ve at least been professional about it. You could’ve emailed the company and asked for a switch, instead of bad-mouthing me to your damn members!”

Both of Namjoon’s hands were up in the air now, defensively. His eyes flickered around his house as he attempted to place the scenario you were describing to him. You saw the light bulb go off about a few seconds after. His demeanour changed immediately. His hands lowered, face cleared and his eyes scrunched before he did the worst thing imaginable that he could’ve done at that moment.

He laughed.

His body bent forward, hands clasping his stomach as his shoulders shook. His head dipped, chortles echoing around you as you stood rooted to your spot, stricken by his mirth.

In the moments that he managed to raise his head, he caught sight of you and laughed again, eyes watering.

You were seeing red. His frame lit up in flames in your head, fuelling you to whirl about on your heel. You marched away, almost at the door when fingers wrapped around your elbow, stopping your next steps.

You turned, seeing Namjoon already there, still smiling.

“Let me go.” You said firmly.

“I didn’t say I would’ve preferred Kayla to you because I thought you weren’t a good fit for the job, Y/N.” He said instead, hand loosening on your arm but not quite letting go. “I said it because...well, I was afraid I would be breaching our contract. Since...I kind of wanted to take you out.”

You stood there, watching Namjoon’s eyes flicker between yours, waiting for a reaction. His hand was still loosely cupping your elbow, fingers warm and splayed out over the skin. His thumb briefly brushed over the bone as if checking that you hadn’t frozen over.

But you had...you were standing stock still, staring up at the idol, uncomprehending the words that had spilled out of him. He had just said something very controversial, very brave...and very confusing.

You thought back to all your hangouts. The long talks that you scribbled down with your tongue poking out the corner of your mouth, the walks that you took, sometimes huddling together with shivers due to the cold weather, sharing hot coffees and chocolate ice creams. Telling him about yourself when he wanted a break and needed to listen instead of supply conversation. Then they changed to his texts, the good morning or good night texts that he would send, the occasional music recommendations and book suggestions.

And then the night of the Gala...that stunning dress...his behaviour...

Nowhere in any of these cases had you seen anything that spelled anything other than friends being friends. He had never flirted brazenly with you, simple banter being the only form of cheek you could recall. He was after all; your client and anything that could offend or upset him would result in your suspension.

“That’s...that’s...impossible. You never – not even once – I didn’t ever get the idea, not ever,” You fumbled over your words, pulling away or trying to once again but Namjoon shrugged, smiling sardonically.

“Well, I couldn’t exactly come out and say it, could I? You were working with me, for my company. I know the kind of pressure you must’ve been under. If I did say something, you’d have been obliged to agree because you’d think you owed it or something, just to keep the job. I didn’t really want to put you in the spot like that. The night of the gala I got carried away. I had a plus one and if I had to take someone, I wanted it to be you. I begged Taehyung to put the outfit together because I’m shit at high end fashion but you looked absolutely gorgeous and yeah, I owe Tae a thousand favours now but it was worth it.” He took a breath.

“I was waiting for the project to be over so I could actually, properly ask you out but well, I guess you heard me being an idiot that day and...” he waved his free hand vaguely.

“Oh,” you mumbled, your eyes leaving him and travelling back down to the floor. What else could you say? Sorry, I was eavesdropping on your conversation and got my feelings hurt and acted like a child? Yeah, you didn’t think that’d go over well.

“Which brings me to the question, why did you stop?” His thumb brushed over your skin again, prodding your attention to him and you shrugged like him, mumbling something about doing right by the client.

“Bullshit, if you wanted to do right by the client, you would’ve waited for me to say something. Changing people like that could’ve resulted in a breach lawsuit and I doubt you’d have risked that.”

You looked up at him again, irritated. Why did he have to poke holes in your admittedly stupid story? Hadn’t he shaken your world enough by telling you that THE KIM NAMJOON wanted to ask you out?

“You hurt me.” You hissed. “You made me think I was inept and it hurt my feelings because I’ve been attached to you and this book since day one. I finished the bio at home, for fuck’s sake. I lost objectivity when it came to you because you’re adorable, scary smart, caring, generous, a total goof and it doesn’t help that you look like a damn sculpture all the time.”

You yanked your arm one last time, successful this time around because Namjoon smiled widely, shyly, deep dimples poking into his cheeks that had you internally melting from how cute he was.

“I want to kiss you.” he said simply. “May I?”

What were you going to do, say no?

Instead, horrifyingly you started to sniffle. “You better, because I’m really ashamed right now and I will start crying.”

Namjoon was quick to cup your face, cooing over your squished cheeks in his large palms and he brought you closer, closer and closer to himself. Your hands clutched at the sleeves of his shirt while he pecked you lightly, dropping a flurry of equally soft and fast pecks on your cheek, the tip of your nose and chin before returning to your lips, delving deeper, testing the waters.

Your eyes fell shut, revelling in the plumpness of his lips as he delicately trailed them over yours, smacking kisses over you till you let out a giggle.

“Finally, she smiles.” Namjoon beamed at you, leading you back until you were gently propped against the door, your head comfortably resting on the wood and he deepened the kiss, bowing and moulding his body with yours.

“Should we be doing this here?” You asked nervously, when his lips began to travel over your jaw.

“The boys won’t be back for a while but we can head to my room if you want?” He wriggled his eyebrows at you, heat pooling into the skin he still held between his hands.

“Uh, I’m good here.” You muttered to his amusement. His eyes travelled back to your mouth, eyes hooding and then he was slowly leaning in again. You met him halfway and his mouth opened with the barest brush of tongue when loud pounding sounded right on the other side of the doorway, laughter and footfalls sounding the arrival of the rest of the band.

You moved away just as the door flung open, six boys piling in, “Can you believe none of us thought to grab our wallets, we have to go back and tell manager-nim to get the car again –” Jin grumbled with the boys stopping to gape at you in Namjoon’s arms as the two of you blinked at them like deer in headlights.

Then chaos erupted.

The whoops and cheers of ‘finally’ made you drop your head in a shy grin with Namjoon groaning behind you.

“Namjoonie finally got some!”

“OH SHUT UP!”

#thebtswritersclub #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #btshoneyhive #namjoon fanfic #bts fanfic #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts #namjoon x reader #namjoon

[crinkled-emotions]

If you’re still taking fic ideas, how about something where Eddie is hurt on a call but he’s trapped and Bobby has to talk to him while the others try to get him out? I just need some Dad!Bobby with Eddie. Idk…

Oh my gosh why did this take me so long I’m so sorry!

Mood I love dad!Bobby too, whether it be with Buck or Eddie. Hen and Chim kind of feel like his younger siblings and I love that vibe we get when this man deadass swore that he wasn’t going to get attached to them in S1.

Anyway. Enjoy 2200 words of hurt!Eddie, dad!Bobby and underlying Buddie lmao. Apparently that’s all I write now oops.

The truth was even before the bus crash, Eddie had been on edge. He’d been quieter than usual at breakfast with Christopher, but he made a real effort to make conversation with his son. Christopher could potentially be a mind reader; he’d sat with Eddie for a little longer that morning instead of playing before school.

Pulling into the parking lot, Eddie grasped Buck’s hand as he leapt across the centre console and kissed him. Buck reciprocated, smiling against Eddie’s lips.

“You good, Eds?” He asked, because Eds was as close to a pet name that he could get with his macho boyfriend. Eddie had shrugged.

“Feeling a little high strung,” he admitted, and that was Buck’s first warning sign. Frowning, Buck watched Eddie grab his duffel from the backseat of the Jeep and head into the firehouse.

Driving a bus drunk- seriously? There were other, less reckless, things to do when drunk, but apparently the bus driver had been doing it for a while. He’d driven it straight through the first floor of a high rise building and while it should have been supported, the building tilted slightly more toward the traffic by the minute. Bobby had opened his mouth to bench Eddie, when they’d heard screaming.

“HELP!” A man yelled, waving frantically.

“It’s my wife! Help!”

Eddie was in work mode, yanking the spare medical bag from the truck and following the man over to the building. Bobby glanced at Buck, who frowned.

“Bobby-“

“-I’ll go with him. You, Hen and Chim check for other survivors, okay? Take the tags.”

Take the tags was firefighter code for be prepared for DOA at this point. It hurt everyone but unfortunately with these situations it did happen. The other three dispersed and Bobby headed for where Eddie was doing chest compressions. Kneeling by them, Bobby glanced down at the woman. She was bleeding heavily from her thigh- her femoral artery severed maybe- and she wasn’t conscious. She also bled from her head, but head injuries always bled like a motherfucker. Gently touching her skull and down to her neck, Bobby realised what was going on.

“Eddie,” Bobby said gently, but Eddie refused.

“She can survive a femoral artery cut, Bobby, I did,” he said. Bobby held his shoulder.

“Her skull is in pieces, and I can feel where her neck snapped.”

“I’m not letting go!” Eddie yelled as Bobby took his hands away, looking up to the distraught husband.

“I’m sorry, there’s nothing that could have been done. Her neck was snapped, most likely on impact,” he explained. The man collapsed to his knees, pulling his wife’s body to his chest. Bobby touched Eddie’s back but he got up, clearing his throat.

“Better start sweeping the upper floors, just in case,” he said. Bobby watched him for a second. Finally, he sighed.

“Okay-“

The entire building trembled. Eddie swore, yanking Bobby up.

“The supports are going,” he yelled, “get the fuck outta here!”

Bobby was barely out of the impact zone when the first floor collapsed in on itself.

“Diaz, do you copy?”

Chim had come running the second he saw the building go down, yanking on Bobby’s jacket to get him away from the debris and dust.

“What the hell just happened?” Chim yelled and Bobby tried to move.

“Eddie’s in there!” Bobby exclaimed. Chimney’s eyes widened.

“This is- ugh. This is Eddie, can anyone hear me?”

“Eddie, are you okay?”

Eddie exhaled, reaching for his radio. At the last second, he’d managed to throw himself under one of the counters and it had saved his life.

“Bobby, I’m good. I just- I think I’m trapped.”

“Hold on, we’re coming to get you.”

Shifting his head slightly, Eddie spotted a gap in the rubble and reached for his torch, shining it through the hole.

“Eddie?!” Buck yelled and Eddie exhaled in relief.

“Buck, I can’t see a way out. What’s the plan?”

“The whole second floor collapsed. Luckily the others are intact for some reason. We’re still working on a plan. How are you feeling, is anything broken?”

Eddie wiggled everything important. Nothing triggered a pain response, but he knew it could be the adrenaline still.

“Don’t think so.”

There was a muffled conversation on the other side of the rubble, then Eddie could see Bobby.

“You need to stay very still, okay Eddie? We can’t get a c-collar to you. Everything is concrete and metal here. I know you don’t think anything is broken but-“

“-the adrenaline. I know. Cap, it’s getting a little tight in here.”

“Then stay quiet. I’ll stay here, we need Buck with the other teams to clear the rubble. We should be able to get you out before dark.”

Eddie heard Buck dash away, heavy gear and all, and tried to wriggle out of his turnout coat because it was making him warm.

“Eddie, stop,” Bobby reminded him gently. Eddie groaned, before going quiet again.

“You survived Afghanistan, a well, and getting shot again, Eddie. This is just a minor inconvenience.”

“Yeah, sure, minor inconvenience.”

“I’m here, Eddie. Just try and stay awake, okay?”

Eddie wasn’t sure how much time had passed. He knew the air was getting tighter and his chest was starting to ache with the lack of oxygen. The adrenaline that had been running through his body had worn off and when he glanced down, he realised his arm was broken. Just looking at it…

“Bobby?” Eddie called, starting to panic. He heard shuffling.

“Everything okay Eddie?” Bobby asked, concern creeping into his tone.

“My arm’s broken, and I think there’s something pressing into my back.”

“Okay. I do have some good news; Chim said he could probably get an oxygen tank and mask into that hole, and Buck is making good progress on what’s on top of you right now. How bad is your arm, do you need pain relief?”

“Uh, it’s- it’s not too bad…”

Eddie tried not to look at it, the sight of bone sticking out enough to make him want to vomit. He’d set a few compound fractures in his military career and then a few more in his firefighter role, but looking at it on himself? Completely different.

“Eddie, I can give you pain relief, okay? We can administer it via an IV.”

That was Chim. Chim was there. God, it was good to hear his voice.

“No, I’m- I think I’m good. How far away is that oxygen?”

“Right here.”

The tank came through first, followed by the oxygen mask that was connected. With his good arm Eddie pulled the mask over his face, switching the tank on.

“I’m going to pass you through a splint Eddie, are you okay to get it sorted?”

“It’s an open fracture Chim.”

Chimney swore. Eddie couldn’t see him- or anyone, really- but he could feel Chim’s frustration.

“Okay Eddie, just hold on. Me and Hen are working with Buck, Bobby sent him to work with the cleanup crew but he’s pretty desperate to get down here, do a Buck.”

Eddie tried to laugh but it made him tired, and he knew he couldn’t fall asleep. He at the very least had a broken arm and a mild concussion, but he knew there were other things to be concerned about.

“Okay. Just- don’t tell him about my arm, Chim. He’ll- he’ll lose his shit.”

“We got this, Eddie, just focus on keeping calm,” Bobby said confidently.

Another chunk of time passed. Eddie had a feeling he’d been passed out for a majority of it. His head was a little foggy, and it smelled like- oh, that’s humiliating.

“Bobby,” he choked out, “Bobby!”

“Eddie,” his captain said, “what’s wrong?”

“I puked,” he frowned.

“Yeah, a couple times. We couldn’t get in there to roll you over. It’s lucky you didn’t choke.”

“What happened?” Eddie asked, trying to get a better grasp of his surroundings.

“Some asshole drove a bus into the building and the second floor collapsed. You got trapped. Eddie, who’s the president?”

“Not Trump, thank fuck,” Eddie replied. His head throbbed, and he glanced down at his arm to see it mangled.

“Oh, shit,” he groaned out.

“Buck’s on channel if you want to talk to him,” Bobby suggested gently.

“No, I- I don’t want to scare him.”

“Eddie, he got down here just as you had a seizure. He’s pretty spooked already. I sent him back to the cleanup to get his mind off of it.”

“I had a seizure?” Eddie frowned, shifting to pat himself down. His turnouts were damp. Fuck.

“Yeah, you hit your head a little harder than we originally thought. Hen radioed through earlier with some good news. She said they’re making good headway with the debris. We’ll have you to the hospital in no time, then back with Buck and Chris.”

“O-oh, okay… Bobby, my head hurts.”

“I know Eddie. Try to stay awake for me.”

“Bobby…”

“Hold on a little longer.”

“How long am I gonna be in hospital?” Eddie croaked. He could almost feel Bobby’s frown.

“24 hours at least, I think, with a broken arm.”

“I don’t feel that great.”

“Put your oxygen mask back on but keep your eyes open.”

When Eddie tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, he realised he could see Bobby. Eddie yelled in pain and Bobby winced.

“Not long now, Eddie.”

Buck shoved the last of the debris away and leapt into the hole, taking the c-collar from Chim when he handed it down. Eddie’s good arm found Buck’s waist and Buck smiled.

“Hey Eds. It’s gonna be okay, we’re here. We’re gonna get you out, just hold on.”

“Buck…”

“Bobby’s comin’ Eds, he’s coming.”

Buck was quick to put the c-collar around Eddie’s neck, wipe off the vomit and cover him with his turnout coat.

“Eddie?” Bobby yelled and Eddie burst into sobs of pain when Buck and Chim set his arm, splinting it. Bobby was there in seconds, grabbing Eddie’s good hand.

“It’s okay. Just breathe.”

“Make room!” Hen yelled, “give us space!”

Chim and Buck got Eddie on to the backboard, Buck getting out of the hole to help Hen haul the backboard up on to the waiting stretcher. They stood with their backs to the crowd, Chim and Bobby jumping up to protect Eddie. Other firefighters have backed off anyway, focusing on keeping the crowds back as Eddie’s loaded into the ambulance. Buck gave him a kiss on the forehead, sighing.

“I gotta find someone to drive the truck back but I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay? Hen and Chim will stay with you.”

“Love you,” Eddie said over the oxygen mask and Buck smiled.

“I know. Love you too.”

He jumped out of the ambulance into the onslaught of media frenzy and concerned firefighters who knew all about Eddie getting shot eleven months ago but weren’t aware of their relationship. Ravi stepped into line with Buck to get organised, and Bobby gave Eddie’s hand a final squeeze.

“We’ll see you soon,” he said firmly before getting out of the ambulance too. Hen pulled the doors shut, glancing down at Eddie.

“Hey, how are you doing?” She asked with a gentle smile especially reserved for patients and when Buck does something stupid. Eddie huffed, trying to lean into her, but restricted because of the neck brace and backboard. Hen sat on the seat beside Eddie, giving his hand a squeeze.

“We’ll keep you safe Eddie, just focus on breathing okay?”

Bobby took a seat next to Buck at Eddie’s bedside, giving Buck’s shoulder a squeeze.

“What did the doctors say?”

“MRI came back, no brain bleed thank god. Uh, it was a heavy concussion though. Broken arm, that they fixed in surgery. Broken rib, another cracked on his other side. He was awake for a little while, but he didn’t have any idea where he was. He threw up again, but after that the doctor said it would be better if he was sedated for a little while longer. Concussion checks are every hour and he’s slowly getting better at them. Last time when the nurse asked who the president was, he said not me and rolled over.”

Bobby chuckled, glancing over at Eddie who was still asleep.

“Did he know who you were? Christopher?”

“Yeah. Begged me to tell Christopher it was going to be okay. I just got off the phone with Carla; she said Chris was scared but he’s strong and he knows his dad’s coming home soon.”

“I’ll stay with him. You should go and be with Christopher.”

Buck stood, pausing as he pocketed his phone.

“It’s scary that we have this down to an art, Bobby.”

“Agreed. I’ll keep you updated, kid.”

“Thanks.”

Buck paused to kiss Eddie’s forehead, before he disappeared back into the hospital. Bobby got up to pull the blankets on Eddie up to his shoulders. He stirred, glancing up at Bobby who smiled.

“Hey.”

“Ugh.”

“You just missed Buck.”

“Again?”

“Yeah. Seems like you’re stuck with me.”

“That’s cool,” Eddie yawned, bringing his good arm up to rub at his eyes.

“Go back to sleep.”

“Yeah, okay. Can you just- can you stay? Just for a little while.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

#9-1-1 #911 #Eddie Diaz #Bobby Nash #Evan Buckley #Buck #Hen wilson #Chimney #Howie Han #911 on fox #9-1-1 on fox #angst #Hurt Eddie Diaz #why do I tag better on this hell site than AO3

[i-got-these-words]

Short Midnight Drabble ~

[Content warnings: Excessive drinking; dubious consent; victim self-blaming; jealousy; explicit sexual content; explicit language.]

The rhythm in his head had but one name. Tequila.

Guan Shan winced as a shooting pain lanced through him, striking dead centre in the space between his eyes like a rusty nail trying to screw its way through his skull. His heavy and only-somewhat-cooperative tongue rolled around a tart curse that would have had his mom smacking him upside the head and scolding him six ways to Sunday.

Fuck a cheese grater. Where was he?

Prying his eyes open, Guan Shan squinted into the dimly lit room, thankful that someone had had the foresight to draw the vertical blinds closed. The scintillating shimmer of a spring dawn spilt through the narrow gaps, casting the room and its slumbering occupants in hues of cerise and new beginnings.

Guan Shan didn’t recognise them, and he sure as fuck didn’t believe in new beginnings. Or second chances. He was forced to clench his teeth against a wave of nausea when he tried to sit up, his body stiff and protesting. He took a few steadying breaths through his nose as the rusty nail asserted itself once again, burrowing deeper and laying claim to his alcohol-addled brain.

The room was littered with the usual post-party detritus, but in place of ransacked snack bowls, disposable red cups and crushed beer cans, there were half-empty food platters, fully empty champagne bottles and a slew of personalised confetti.

It came him to then—Jian Yi and Zheng Xi’s engagement party.

He instantly regretted coming. Then, just as quickly, felt bad for even thinking it; Jian Yi was the closest thing Guan Shan had to a friend, even if Guan Shan would never admit it. But then he remembered how, in the face of his hesitation, Jian Yi had assured Guan Shan that he wouldn’t be attending. After all, he was halfway across the globe and had already sent his apologies and felicitations in the form of an outrageously luxurious RV disguised as an engagement gift.

Shit.

Guan Shan needed to get out of there.

He took his time levering himself to his feet, swaying a little as the room spun. Gingerly, he lumbered past the handful of dozing guests, most of them more scantily dressed than they had been at the beginning of the party, limbs twisted around a partner—or partners—a piece of upholstered furniture, or a bottle of top-shelf liquor.

The air was thick with the scents of warm, canoodling bodies, an eye-watering floral fragrance someone had drenched themselves in the night before and the lingering traces of eau de fuck mist. Wrinkling his nose, Guan Shan scowled at the thought of partygoers going at it right there in the living room whilst he was passed out drunk on the couch. What happened to having some goddamn decorum?

Meandering out into the hallway in search of his chukka boots, Guan Shan rubbed his temples and wondered if it was too early in the day for the Sunday trains to be running. He considered getting an Uber back to his place, but he was trying to save up—for a wedding gift, a fucking suit because the one he owned was only fit to be worn at funerals, smart shoes that hadn’t been bought at a thrift store, and a round or two of over-priced drinks at the joint bachelor bash Jian Yi was already twittering about.

Fuckin’-A. He’d need to budget more tightly than he already had been, but he consoled himself with the option of selling the suit and shoes second-hand post-wedding and making up for the difference by picking up a few more shifts at the restaurant.

And making do with less than three hours of sleep a night.

Putting his monetary worries to one side, Guan Shan spent the better half of a minute getting tangled in the loose end of a congratulations banner that had come half-undone from the wall. As he passed the kitchen, he caught the time on the microwave’s digital display: five fucking am. The first train wasn’t due til half six.

Mood souring, Guan Shan ran a frustrated hand through his shorn hair, a little stiff and sticky from the product he’d fingered through it last night. His stomach lurched when he noticed the wretched bottle of jalapeño-infused tequila on the breakfast bar and he wondered why he’d thought drinking himself to oblivion would be a good idea. Not only had it been one of his more foolish decisions, it hadn’t even fucking worked.

Guan Shan could remember, clear as day, how his mouth had dried up and his heart had dithered like a fucking damsel in distress when he’d spotted He Tian sauntering through Jian Yi and Zheng Xi’s verdant backyard. With his signature cocksure swagger, He Tian had garnered the attention of many a guest sprawled on rattan garden furniture. Guan Shan had envied them their insouciance as they sipped chilled champagne from sparkling glasses and got their fill of a fabulous ass furnished in dark denim. Guan Shan, on the other hand, had ensconced himself in the kitchen in an attempt to avoid crossing paths with his ex.

That, too, hadn’t fucking worked.

With an hour to kill, Guan Shan found himself in the guest bathroom, splashing his face with arctic-cold water in the hopes that it would chink away at the haze of his hangover. In anticipation of having overnight sojourners, Jian Yi or Zheng Xi—more likely the latter—had stacked a pile of sealed toothbrushes and bottles of mouthwash on the window ledge.

Guan Shan felt marginally human after he’d scrubbed his teeth and freshened up. He chanced a look in the mirrored cabinet above the sink and grimaced. His rose gold hair, which had been a deliberate mess of spikes at the beginning of the night was now nothing short of a grooming disaster. His cheeks were flushed from the cold wash, masking the dusting of freckles on his face that bloomed and waned with the seasons. Normally a blazing liquid copper, his eyes were a dull brass, tarnished by too many shots and not enough winks.

The mouth-watering aroma of morning coffee wafted through from under the bathroom door and Guan Shan hoped whoever was up was brewing it strong. He was downing a couple of Advil he’d filched from the small cabinet when he noticed a bruise peeking out from the collar of his shirt. He leaned closer to the mirror, trying to get a better look.

Motherfucker. It was an honest-to-fuck hickey.

As his already-shit mood took a nosedive, Guan Shan ground his molars, the flush on his cheeks deepening with anger. Who the fuck had put it there? And when? Guan Shan couldn’t remember making out with anyone last night and, given that he was fully clothed sans shoes, the necking session had probably not gone past first base.

Probably.

Had he been so blitzed out that he couldn’t remember letting someone suck a bruise on his person? Fuck.

Fuck!

Guan Shan’s ire took an ugly turn. He shouldn’t have put himself in that fucking position. He should’ve known better. Seeing He Tian had fucked him up and Guan Shan had responded by getting shitfaced.

Eyes stinging, Guan Shan swiped viciously at his face with another palmful of frosty water. Just as he turned to the toilet and unzipped his fly, the bathroom door swung open.

He Tian paused in his stride to blink at Guan Shan. Then proceeded to make his way to the sink.

“Do you fucking mind?” Guan Shan growled, ignoring the way his insides squirmed at the sight of a sleepy-looking He Tian: softly tousled locks, a rumpled silk shirt and black boxer briefs that were so tight his dick was one cough away from indecent exposure.

Opening the cabinet and rummaging through the contents, He Tian mumbled a curt, “Nope.”

Guan Shan knew he was on the verge of snapping, and he let his anger simmer to a boil as He Tian popped the cap off the Advil container and knocked back a few pills. When he was done guzzling a mouthful of water right from the tap, his gelid grey eyes slid to Guan Shan. He Tian lofted a dark brow and the motion shouldn’t have been as sensual as it was.

“It’s not like you haven’t pissed in front of me before,” He Tian mused. “In fact—”

“Finish that sentence and you’ll be shitting out your own teeth for the next year,” Guan Shan snarled.

A smirk ghosted He Tian’s lips and the challenge in his eyes made Guan Shan’s stupid heart stutter like a gin-soaked queen in stilettos. “—I distinctly recall how much it turned you on.”

The illusion that he had any self-control around He Tian shattered as Guan Shan pivoted on his heel and plunged towards the taller man, fists raised and powered up.

But He Tian was ready for him. He’d always been fucking ready for him.

Guan Shan’s knuckles barely grazed the hard-lined jaw it was aiming for as He Tian swiftly dodged to the side. When Guan Shan brought up his left elbow to ram it into He Tian’s obscenely, perfectly straight nose, He Tian ducked like he was made of liquid and not the stacked muscle Guan Shan knew was rolling under that naturally tan skin. He Tian countered with a friendly jab to Guan Shan’s kidney; it wasn’t meant to hurt, and it didn’t. But it did momentarily surprise Guan Shan and He Tian predictably took advantage of his hesitation.

The bathroom cabinet shook as Guan Shan’s back collided with the tiled wall.

He Tian closed in on him, outstretched arms boxing Guan Shan in from either side and leaving He Tian wide open to a counterattack, one that they both knew wouldn’t come.

Guan Shan blamed his sluggish reflexes on the hangover from hell and, this close up, he could see that He Tian hadn’t come away completely unscathed either from a night of liberal drinking and liberal morals.

His eyes were rimmed pink, half-lidded and weary. His weekend stubble was a velvet shadow that would have taken a younger He Tian a week to grow out. His post-party redolence was a mixture of faded cologne, the spicy notes of celebratory fizz, and a familiar musk that reminded Guan Shan of lazy mornings in bed, sun-warmed sheets, and an intimacy that didn’t involve swapping spunk.

Guan Shan’s throat tightened like a vice when he spied the flecks of dark red on He Tian’s crumpled white collar, and the grisly bite mark on the side of his neck that was responsible.

“I’ve barely said two words to you and you’re already trying to break my face,” He Tian drawled in a voice that was as deep as it was dark, and made all the more dangerous by a disarming smile. “What crawled up your ass this fine morning?”

Read the full fic here: Love Bites and Bruises

#19 days #19 days fic #fanfic #fanfiction #drabble #tianshan #he tian #mo guan shan #love bites and bruises

[thed4rkhand]

The Egg Theory

Hey guys! Since I think we’ll be doing cute manifestation stuff this week, I really wanted to share this, it’s something that really helped me understand Neville Goddard and other philosophers much better.

You know how they say we’re the centre of our own universe, time isn’t really a concept, live in the end, and all? And how it goes completely over our heads because no one is explaining it well? Here’s where I started, reading this story. So I thought it would be a wonderful start to the week, and then we can move onto cooler and more intense methods and understanding, so that you guys take little to no effort when manifesting like a pro!

We often underestimate or are just unable to comprehend just how powerful we as people are, and no wonder it happens, no one really explains it to us. So here’s the egg theory, read through it and let me know, some light reading for the course. Read it once, read it twice, you’ll be overwhelmed and think wtf, but honestly, it’s so integral to reject the idea before slowly sinking to a realisation and bouncing back up more powerful than ever! I always understand better when it’s like a story more so than a monologue, so hopefully it works for you guys too!

The Egg Theory - and how it explains everything

You were on your way home when you died.

It was a car accident. Nothing particularly remarkable, but fatal nonetheless. You left behind a wife and two children. It was a painless death. The EMTs tried their best to save you, but to no avail. Your body was so utterly shattered you were better off, trust me.

And that’s when you met me.

“What… what happened?” You asked. “Where am I?”

“You died,” I said, matter-of-factly. No point in mincing words.

“There was a… a truck and it was skidding…”

“Yup,” I said.

“I… I died?”

“Yup. But don’t feel bad about it. Everyone dies,” I said.

You looked around. There was nothingness. Just you and me. “What is this place?” You asked. “Is this the afterlife?”

“More or less,” I said.

“Are you god?” You asked.

“Yup,” I replied. “I’m God.”

“My kids… my wife,” you said.

“What about them?”

“Will they be all right?”

“That’s what I like to see,” I said. “You just died and your main concern is for your family. That’s good stuff right there.”

You looked at me with fascination. To you, I didn’t look like God. I just looked like some man. Or possibly a woman. Some vague authority figure, maybe. More of a grammar school teacher than the almighty.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “They’ll be fine. Your kids will remember you as perfect in every way. They didn’t have time to grow contempt for you. Your wife will cry on the outside, but will be secretly relieved. To be fair, your marriage was falling apart. If it’s any consolation, she’ll feel very guilty for feeling relieved.”

“Oh,” you said. “So what happens now? Do I go to heaven or hell or something?”

“Neither,” I said. “You’ll be reincarnated.”

“Ah,” you said. “So the Hindus were right,”

“All religions are right in their own way,” I said. “Walk with me.”

You followed along as we strode through the void. “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere in particular,” I said. “It’s just nice to walk while we talk.”

“So what’s the point, then?” You asked. “When I get reborn, I’ll just be a blank slate, right? A baby. So all my experiences and everything I did in this life won’t matter.”

“Not so!” I said. “You have within you all the knowledge and experiences of all your past lives. You just don’t remember them right now.”

I stopped walking and took you by the shoulders. “Your soul is more magnificent, beautiful, and gigantic than you can possibly imagine. A human mind can only contain a tiny fraction of what you are. It’s like sticking your finger in a glass of water to see if it’s hot or cold. You put a tiny part of yourself into the vessel, and when you bring it back out, you’ve gained all the experiences it had.

“You’ve been in a human for the last 48 years, so you haven’t stretched out yet and felt the rest of your immense consciousness. If we hung out here for long enough, you’d start remembering everything. But there’s no point to doing that between each life.”

“How many times have I been reincarnated, then?”

“Oh lots. Lots and lots. An in to lots of different lives.” I said. “This time around, you’ll be a Chinese peasant girl in 540 AD.”

“Wait, what?” You stammered. “You’re sending me back in time?”

“Well, I guess technically. Time, as you know it, only exists in your universe. Things are different where I come from.”

“Where you come from?” You said.

“Oh sure,” I explained “I come from somewhere. Somewhere else. And there are others like me. I know you’ll want to know what it’s like there, but honestly you wouldn’t understand.”

“Oh,” you said, a little let down. “But wait. If I get reincarnated to other places in time, I could have interacted with myself at some point.”

“Sure. Happens all the time. And with both lives only aware of their own lifespan you don’t even know it’s happening.”

“So what’s the point of it all?”

“Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously? You’re asking me for the meaning of life? Isn’t that a little stereotypical?”

“Well it’s a reasonable question,” you persisted.

I looked you in the eye. “The meaning of life, the reason I made this whole universe, is for you to mature.”

“You mean mankind? You want us to mature?”

“No, just you. I made this whole universe for you. With each new life you grow and mature and become a larger and greater intellect.”

“Just me? What about everyone else?”

“There is no one else,” I said. “In this universe, there’s just you and me.”

You stared blankly at me. “But all the people on earth…”

“All you. Different incarnations of you.”

“Wait. I’m everyone!?”

“Now you’re getting it,” I said, with a congratulatory slap on the back.

“I’m every human being who ever lived?”

“Or who will ever live, yes.”

“I’m Abraham Lincoln?”

“And you’re John Wilkes Booth, too,” I added.

“I’m Hitler?” You said, appalled.

“And you’re the millions he killed.”

“I’m Jesus?”

“And you’re everyone who followed him.”

You fell silent.

“Every time you victimized someone,” I said, “you were victimizing yourself. Every act of kindness you’ve done, you’ve done to yourself. Every happy and sad moment ever experienced by any human was, or will be, experienced by you.”

You thought for a long time.

“Why?” You asked me. “Why do all this?”

“Because someday, you will become like me. Because that’s what you are. You’re one of my kind. You’re my child.”

“Whoa,” you said, incredulous. “You mean I’m a god?”

“No. Not yet. You’re a fetus. You’re still growing. Once you’ve lived every human life throughout all time, you will have grown enough to be born.”

“So the whole universe,” you said, “it’s just…”

“An egg.” I answered. “Now it’s time for you to move on to your next life.”

And I sent you on your way.

 

------

"The Egg" - a short story by author Andy Weir.

#manifestation #law of attraction #law of assumption #shifting realities #neville goddard #egg theory #loa

[pinkchanelbag]

— there’s no one else; chapter two. 

a jean kirstein x reader mafia au.

last | masterlist | next

series summary: a boy caught in a web with his survival depending on balancing niceties between his predators. a prim girl on thin ice that leads down the path of least resistance. no one too close and no one too far, no allegiance unquestioned, and no child whose value and future goes without evaluation like a playing card that determines their worth. to be destined for big things is more like being doomed to them, but that’s the way it goes. it’s just family matter.

chapter summary: the party begins.

wc: 1.9k.

cw: still nothing lol

note: putting this out short notice cause it’s JEANBOYS BIRTHDAYYY BABYYY anyway enjoy heeheee and my apologies for the slow plot thus far i swear it picks up trust me bro.

the venue is obnoxiously grand. the garden is more akin to a football field than anything else. there is no central lighting, but rather pure white string lights everywhere, everywhere. tucked behind and underneath tables and wrapped around trees and laying in the overhead greenery and in the bushes that act as walls. wherever you look, your eyes are strained, and you’re sure the dining hall can be seen from the moon. 

speaking of the dining hall, the organizers cleverly blocked off the front entrance to the building so that one is forced to walk the expanse of the entire garden—surely to ooh and aah at its elegant taste—in order to get inside through the back door entrance. in other words, having to greet every single member of the family before so much as putting your clutch down. 

you apply a friendly, attentive expression to your face each time pieck stops to greet someone new, having mastered the art of being engaged but not so engaged it’s troublesome, while in reality being completely disengaged in any way. as pieck converses with a bulky man drinking wine and you pick apart the key points (“we don’t got the ammo to make deals with top contractors—legal team in shambles—not good to have a weak spot”), really you are letting your eyes wander over the shrubbery which has been trimmed to perfection. yes, the lights are a pain and the band is too loud so early in the event, and there is not enough walking space between the bushes so people squeeze together to reach the large clearing of the garden. a perfectly obnoxious party, except you can’t help but appreciate the greenery. somehow, it is the only thing about this evening that doesn’t seem ridiculous. or maybe you’re just unusually irritated tonight. 

your eyebrows knit so slightly at this realization. why are you being so disagreeable? impatience and intolerance seem to grow in your chest for no particular reason. you make a note to identify the source of your mood, and quickly resolve it. there’s work to be done.

karina braun is a kind, opinionated sheep of a woman. she is liked by all, and not because she’s particularly easy to like, but rather because she’s hard to hate. stuck in her times and not having much intellectual value, she is possibly the most important woman in all the families. being the mother of reiner braun and the head of the braun-galliard family, gives her luxury without responsibility. you’ve only met her once before, and she possessed the kind of ignorance many privileged older women have. but still she’s kind, so you can’t justify how she makes you weary. 

her birthday, funnily enough, constitutes one of the very few gatherings that frowns upon trying to discuss family matter during the events, unlike a young girl’s birthday. it has to do with respect, you suppose. 

you spend your first half-hour at the party hovering around pieck as she makes small talk with associates, becoming increasingly nervous at your lack of breakthrough in communication with the family. you know the most important thing is your encounter with karina, and that will open up further talks with others, but you stall to approach her, imperceptibly steering pieck further away from the centre table where the older woman sits. not yet. 

“are you going to keep leading me through the same semi-circle, or are you just going to go talk to her?” pieck asks calmly. you curse her intelligence in your mind. 

“i’m just nervous,” you murmur, smiling politely at a group of men at a distance that eyes you like the business deal you are. 

“you should be, but that doesn’t change that you have to do it.” your eyes flick to look at the woman beside you for a moment. her expression is not encouraging or consoling, nor is it unsettling. it’s fitting. what you and pieck have is less than friendship but more than acquaintanceship. often you feel as thought she’s reading your emotions like an open book, which can be scary considering how many of them you really hide. but if and when she sees them, she doesn’t seem to care, whether they’re incriminating or worthy of sympathy. she sees you, and that is all. it’s not a comfort, nor a curse. 

“what are you waiting for?” she says, but it’s a genuine question rather than a push to complete the task at hand. you realize you’re waiting for porco. you want porco at your side. you want his strength and his jagged-edged ambition, and the forcefulness that makes you do the things your heart has no energy for.

“i just think it would be better if the boys were here,” you breathe. again, pieck sees your meaning, and your fright, and leaves it be. 

for the next eternity, you drink champagne and stretch back your memory to know if all parties are this boring once you become an adult, or if the braun family has a particular talent for making you crave the sight of paint drying. the closest thing to entertainment—and not the hired folk who attempt to call themselves singers—is gabi’s voice, which can be heard no matter where in the garden you stand. she tells stories, strikes up arguments, and gathers food and drink with her friends, all at top volume. for some reason, you don’t find amusement in this either, and really start to worry about this attitude problem you’ve got this night. to add on, porco’s meeting seems to stretch painfully long. it was a short-notice meeting, which either meant something very very good or very very bad—more so when he told you he was being picked up for it by reiner, colt, and annie. some of the most important family members gathering for an emergency meeting means trouble. your anxiety bubbles in your stomach, and you worry that your not approaching the woman of the hour is reaching a point where it might be seen as—rude. 

the guests are alerted that dinner is ready. it’s not long before each person has situated themselves along the tables that line the large garden. the seating plan is loosely maintained, but you have nowhere near the entitlement to mingle among other tables. you find yours and stay at it, and it’s only then that you get an idea of just how many people are at this event. each table is packed, holding roughly six people, and there are too many to count in the chaos, but they create a semi-rectangle in three respective rows. you make out countless bodies but few faces, just an endless sea of tuxedos and lovely dresses. at the front of the garden is the head table, where karina sits alone save gabi’s bouncing body going back and forth. your table is is only a few feet from hers, but you take a seat that puts your back to her front so you don’t make the unforgivable mistake of accidental eye contact. you’re to sit with porco, and his table—the galliard table—is the one closest in importance to the braun table. you are the only one at the table, further reminder of porco’s tardiness. the longer you fiddle with the white cloth on the surface, the more you worry about what exactly the meeting could mean. 

and then pieck comes and sits across from you without a word. as always, you know it’s only family matter—the concern that you look out of place—motivating her and not your obvious discomfort, but you’re grateful nonetheless. 

as the servers stream into the garden like white-clad troops armed with dome platters, a champagne glass’s unmistakeable ding ding ding catches the attention of the guests. a table near karina’s opposite side, not quite flanking her but near enough to display some importance. a man stands with his glass raised, looking unfitting for the position with the way his arm hesitantly dips and re-straightens. bertholdt, yet another notable name in braun-galliard (and it’s your job to know all the names), seems to be the only person around able to give the welcome speech. it’s easy to listen only selectively to the announcements and shoutouts, disregarding all the thank yous and remember whens and listening in for honored guests (who are honored because they’ve proven themselves useful). luckily for you, bertholdt’s clumsy speech has a clear distinction between the two categories, his eyes downturned to cards in which he lists off important guests and whatever thing they did to end up on he list before him. 

“a special welcome to general theo magath of the mexican military, who has been so generous to the family’s trade routes…” bertholdt’s words are careful, partly because of the nature of the things he is sharing, but also because all his actions have been careful since his fall from grace. formerly one of the most reliable heavy men in the family, bertholdt’s reputation was shot to hell when an important—very important—family member was killed on his watch. despite having happened years and years ago now, it took extensive efforts to just convince the higher-ups that he wasn’t in bed with the killer. it’s common knowledge that bertholdt’s incident was the first and last time someone “had it easy” from braun-galliard due to his close friendship with reiner himself. 

“an especially relieving guest to see here tonight—“ 

and—finally—the stragglers stalk into the clearing. like most others, you hear of their arrival from the ripple of murmurs long before you see them, seeing as their whereabouts are blocked off by tables and bushes. a few people stand up, but are quickly beckoned to sit down again and redirect their attention to the speaker, who clears his throat nervously. 

“carry on, bertholdt,” reiner’s affecting voice breaks through the space, and it’s enough to settle the audience, or at least have them pretend to pay attention while the late-comers shuffle through the outskirts of the tables to find their seats. bertholdt proceeds slowly. 

“…a person i’m sure we will all come to rely on during this chaotic time…”

you catch the first glimpse of porco as he turns the final corner of the rectangle, reiner walking before him and colt and annie just behind. reiner is the first to arrive to his table, the invitees seeming to hold their chests a little taller for the family’s true head—in every way except on paper—as he slides into his seat and presses a kiss to his mother’s cheek. 

“…a great legacy behind him and a bright career ahead, and we’re surely glad he’s kicked it off in our company…” bertholdt goes on. you and porco’s eyes meet, and immediately you know something is the matter; you’re just not sure if it’s fury or ecstasy in his gleam. 

colt and annie find their seats in the table just after yours, and finally porco is near enough to see—and ignore—the look of alarmed curiosity on your face. he arrives to the table, giving pieck a look of “we’ll talk later,” and briefly stopping behind your chair. his calloused hands are on your arms for a moment, running up and down comfortingly. 

“—a happy welcome to—“

“hey, doll.”

“—jean kirstein.” 

and your eyes flick away from porco’s and into the crowd of faceless bodies, and the anxieties that kept your brain buzzing with life halt and collapse to the floor of your mind like dead flies.

jean? 

#nia.tne #nia.jean #nia.txt #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein imagine #jean kirschtein headcanons #jean kirschstein #aot x reader #aot #attack on titan #snk #porco galliard x reader #porco galliard #pieck finger