but i'm a bit rusty


it isn’t a question of
   how much you love him or
        how much he loves you or
             how much you need each other.

it isn’t a question of
   how strong your fingers are or
         how bright his smiles are or
             how crumbled both your bones are. […]

it’s not a question of love; it’s just a question of gods and fate and stars ( j.p. )


“I could keep you safe,” he rasped. “They’re all afraid of me. No one would hurt you again, or I’d kill them.” He yanked her closer, and for a moment she thought he meant to kiss her. He was too strong to fight. She closed her eyes, wanting it to be over, but nothing happened. “Still can’t bear to look, can you?” she heard him say.

// requested by dornishmansblade

Roommates (JB)

Request: May I ask for a scenario with JB? Where we all were granted a vacation by the company so GOT7 & I holiday-ed together. The members planned to force JB & I to share a room because we were the most awkward & then we both get know each other better.. Fluffy & smut pls!

Length: 2,598 words

Genre: Fluff/Smut/Rated: M

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Flowers: written in response to the @chelsie-prompts flower prompt:


As they made their way downstairs, Charles allowed Elsie to go first, knowing what was waiting for her. When she crossed through the living room and into the dining room on her way to the kitchen, she stopped in her tracks, a gasp falling from her lips. Placed in the center of their dining room table was a large bouquet of flowers in the most vibrant colors. Purples, blues, yellows, pinks, reds, and whites all blended together to create a stunning arrangement in a simple wicker basket. It was as if an English garden has somehow managed to find its way into their home.

Elsie walked closer to the arrangement, still speechless from her discovery, and gently touched the flowers, leaning in to breathe in their heady scent. It was then that she noticed the rest of the table. Charles has laid two place settings for breakfast using their finest china and silverware. His warm hands on her hips brought her fully back to her senses and she turned in his arms.

**teacup display

Sayaka still couldn’t quite believe it herself. She could walk every inch of this apartment and everything she saw in it was hers. It wasn’t the biggest or most expensive home, but it was completely hers and she was still so blown away by it all. 

That long faded sofa? Hers. 

The big bed with the mountain of blue blankets? Hers. 

That fridge full of more sweets than she remembered buying? Hers. 

She was so lost in this mindset that she didn’t even notice she wasn’t alone in the room until a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind. She’d received a quick squeeze before one of those arms reached past her to try and open the fridge, but it couldn’t quite reach. 

“You were about halfway to a romantic moment there for a minute.”

“I’d say that calls for a soda, could you get me one?”

Sayaka couldn’t help but to smile, and she’d open the fridge and root through it for a soda before closing the door. 

“You’re gonna have to let me go to drink it.”

“Nah, I’ve got this.”

Backing away a little, Kyoko would drink the soda with one hand while the other was still just slightly around Sayaka’s side. It looked silly and and barely qualified as a hug anymore, it was difficult for Sayaka not to burst into laughter while her girlfriend enjoyed her soda completely oblivious to her amusement. 

A ridiculous redhead that she loved with all her heart? Hers. 

Riley was not sure how she ended up sprawled on the floor in that certain dark corridor of Plath.  Releasing a shaky breath, she slowly gets up on her feet, dusting off her pleated skirt, and proceeding to brisk walk back to her room.  Almost completely disconnected from her surroundings, Riley gets a mini-heart attack when she runs into an unfamiliar figure.

Clever Boy

For @dhampir72 who got me to write this because of my ranty tags on this post.


Bond is not a very good hacker. Not remotely. He knows some simple, basic things, and he knows his way around any major OS, but he definitely has no place among the Q-Branch boffins.

But despite that, he’s occasionally quite successful in getting into even extremely high security networks and accounts. Like M’s, for instance, be it the previous or the current one’s.

His method is quite simple, actually. He guesses people’s passwords. Or rather, he’s able to work them out, based on observing the people in question, reading them, noticing important details camouflaged into the background and connecting them with each other. He’s good at that, he knows. He’s able to pinpoint the important things and make the right connections, hazard the right guesses. He’s intuitive and can move through a person’s preferences efficiently enough to get what he needs, the same way he can move through their home security measures. He instinctively knows which board not to step on, which window will be the most secure and which the least.

Of course, this method is heavily limited, which is why Q-Branch is in charge of all hacks, and why he has no chance whatsoever of getting his hands on the Quartermaster’s account and network access - Q changes his passwords rather frequently but irregularly, and they’re always a string of randomly selected numbers and letters. Bond has exactly zero chance with that (not to mention with Q’s security protocols which make Bond start drifting off when Q talks about them).

Still, his way is sufficient enough to snoop around an account or two at MI6, which is what he’s doing right now, on a lazy morning in bed, a rare thing for Q and himself. He’s propped up against the headboard, his personal laptop on his lap, and Q is lounging beside him, reading a book.

Bond is quite busy snooping in search for a detail he’s personally curious about, but a fragment of his attention is always on Q, so naturally he registers that Q hasn’t turned a page in a while.

When he turns to look, Q is smiling at him, a soft, gently dazed sort of thing, eyes glazed and bright with affection and something more, something like… loving admiration. He’s beautiful.

“What?” Bond asks.

Q’s smile broadens minutely, eyes flicking over Bond’s face.

“You’re so clever,” he says so simply and so lovingly, and the praise is so inescapably open that Bond simultaneously wants to preen and hide under the duvet. Because Q is brilliant, he’s a genius who loves intelligence, and from him this praise feels both important and deeply intimate.

Bond still can’t decide whether to preen or hide, so he leans in and kisses Q into closing his eyes, so he stops looking at him like that. Like Bond is something precious. Because Bond honestly isn’t sure how to cope with this.

Q smiles into the kiss, so Bond growls into it and pulls him closer, jostling the laptop and the book, rumpling the covers and making Q squirm until Bond has him securely in his arms, determined to kiss the living daylights out of him. Q reciprocates eagerly, his mouth easily open and welcoming, his own arms winding round Bond. There’s an unspeakable warmth and affection in Q’s kiss, and Bond slowly allows himself to give in to it, to relish being so loved on.

Maybe even to relish and admit the unconditional honesty of Q’s praise.

Bond knows he isn’t stupid, even though feigning stupidity - infuriating stupidity - is often enough his strategy of choice. He likes to occasionally be underestimated by his adversaries. He also knows that putting on a blatant act of stubborn stupidity is an effective way to deal with his superiors, it had worked especially well with the previous M, and it’s working well enough with the current one.

He knows Q doesn’t like it when he plays dumb in front of him, usually as a half-joke and trying to get out of a scolding for lost equipment or an unnecessary risk leading to a minor cock-up on a mission. Q frowns when he does it, when he puts on his ‘blunt instrument’ face, and there is something in that frown that gives Bond pause. It’s only a pinch of annoyance, the rest is a complex swirl in Q’s expressive eyes - concern, resentment… upset. Ever since it happened for the third time, Bond takes care not to play stupid with Q. Even though he’s not sure why it upsets him so much.

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