he goes above and beyond for a lot of people sigh

Blue Blood

“Prince Jimin was born with blue blood. His coronation is rapidly approaching, but there are two requirements he must fulfil before becoming a king. He must have the skills to fight in battle, and he must have a Queen with blood as blue as his. You, a member of the royal guard, are assigned to teach Jimin the ins and outs of combat. You are not scared of death, of blood, or of battle. What you are scared of however, is falling in love with Jimin, the one man your blood decrees you can never have.”

pairing: jimin x reader
genre: royalty ausmut, angst
wordcount: 26k

❀ 1 / 9 of my oneshot requests ❀

** warnings: this is angsty!, jimin is a light dom, slow burn, violence, mentions of blood, heavy themes, lots of drama, character death

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some Jinyoung headcanons
  • listen this boy is so soft
  • I mean like an all-around softhearted prince material of a boyfriend
  • I just had to get that off my chest oooof 
  • people are probably always confused when seeing yall together like esp if you’re the type to laugh often and be an outgoing person
  • bc you have this stern looking, tusendere, fine specimen standing next to you without an expression on his face 
  • low key judging everyone
  • you’re just like “that’s love, man…………idek how we ended up together it was kinda bambam’s fault anyway”
  • he’d only cheer for you when you’re signing his parts of their songs
  • otherwise expect a lot of shade
  • “ofc my part’s the best, y/n, I’m giving u a chance to outshine me rn yet u dare sing youngjae’s part, I’m tired of this disrespect’”
  • having lots of conversations while drinking tea and staring out your bedroom window
  • and sometimes when he can’t really think of anything else to say, he’ll sing
  • like really quietly and in a husky voice, not what you’re used to
  • and you’ll be mesmerized w/ his voice dude 
  • he knows this
  • his fingers playing w/ your hair always put you in a peaceful sleep like it’s magic or something lmao ????
  • he smiles in adoration at you when you’re looking all sleepy and dreamy and he really lets his guard down during these times bc he legit cannot imagine wanting to be anywhere else in the entire world than to hold you in this moment
  • wow jinyoung gettin deep I ain’t a soft jinyoung stan but I think I am now 
  • anyways continue 
  • dates are usually a private affair
  • as in he goes above and beyond to make sure the rest of the members stay away from you and him during your special time together
  • wow how petty 
  • but also romantic 
  • you already know those boys are more than capable of ruining the romantic mood if they caught yall smooching lmaoooo
  • speaking of smooching
  • I should rly make a whole post just for this but damn boi his lips
  • kissing !!!! those!!!! lips !!!!!!!!!
  • w/ his hands roaming all over your body and sighing your name into your mouth hoooo boi that’s the life I want
  • kisses are hella lazy tho but you ain’t complaining
  • like he takes his time and drags his plump lips over yours and sometimes tracing down to your neck and chest just to get a reaction from you
  • and he does
  • probably tugs on your hair a lot
  • but that’s it bc I’m getting way too carried away stop me
  • okay so when he wants to wake you up he’s so gentle like
  • he’ll stare at you for a good couple minutes until his heart can’t take it anymore and he just wants to talk to you and be able to kiss you
  • so he’ll just blow on your face 
  • ????
  • until your eyelashes flutter open and he’s sittin there quietly grinning
  • “morning baby, did I wake u :o”
  • he’d suggest the cutest date ideas
  • stargazing would be one of his favorites I bet
  • just anywhere that’s quiet and where he’d be able to talk to you freely is an A+ in his book
  • giving you that deadpanned look of displeasure when you tease him all the time
  • or if you’re cracking a funny joke and he needs to keep himself from laughing bc you’re in public lmao
  • he’ll get you back by tickling you or slyly biting your ear tbfh can you imagine
  • bc I can and I’m a mess
  • anyways he’s just a completely different person when alone w/ you
  • like just more open and isn’t insecure about anything bc you’d always make him feel so safe and supported
  • always keep this sunshine smiling!!!! 💛

Originally posted by pinkhoodiemark

Essays in Existentialism: Flight

Clarke is a flight attendant and sees Lexa in first class with an empty seat next to her, twirling an engagement ring in her hand. She goes up to her and offers her one of those tiny bottles of alcohol

3B was an enigma. The entire cabin remained dark, save for the single light above the contemplative passenger. Ever since taking her seat, she seemed to not even notice how empty the plane was, how singular she was in her state of wakefulness. The world was entirely foreign. 

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Concert Baby

Originally posted by callmeloco0

“I still don’t know why you wanted to come today. It’s so hot and there are so many people. I thought you didn’t like being in a crowd lately.” All eyes were on you as Gray rambled on. He held your hand as he led you through the backstage area walking at an acceptable pace for you.

“I want to have fun and see you perform one last time before the baby is born.”

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A is for: Attagirl

Notes: This is my submission for the ABC’s of Simon Challenge. I feel so terrible that it’s being submitted the last day, but with a lot of medical issues going on in my life, it was difficult to find the time to sit down and actually write. BUT! Ideas for this have been floating in my brain since I took this challenge on, and man, I’m so happy I was able to get it done. It really, really kick-started my muse again. <3 

For now this is a one-shot, but I might continue it in the future!

Tagging: @simons-thirst-squad

Warnings: Language

Characters: Simon x female OFC 

Rating: SFW (few mentions of innuendos, sexual tension and what not, but nothing explicit)

Word count: 2,445

Originally posted by openinglogo

Judging by the scowls upon the faces of the Saviors as they come rolling through the gates, I guess that the little trip to Alexandria hadn’t gone well.

It comes as no surprise, really, when we are all summoned to the courtyard with our fearless leader glowering from above, declaring with his usual bravado that we are going to war. Negan is, as usual, stunning; he’s tall and lean and so damn commanding, and yet for some reason, I always find my eyes straying from him, wandering instead to one particular Second-in-Command that is never terribly far.

Simon looks irritated, hands dangling in front of his thighs, thumbs looped through the belt holes of his jeans as he stands just behind Negan, who is now ordering everyone who is capable and willing to begin training to fight. To win. To demolish Alexandria.

One of my hands strays to the gun at my belt absently as my gaze continues to flicker from Negan (trying to listen, I swear) to Simon (who, for some reason, makes listening really fucking difficult). I’ve been with the Saviors for what must be close to a year now, keeping my head down, doing my work. Kitchen duty had been a nightmare, at first, until at last someone had seen my skills on the firing range and promoted me to gate patrol. It’s nice, I’ve always thought, being able to zip myself into my warmest jacket on cool nights, with the crisp air in my lungs and the moon high above me, the weight of my gun in my holster comforting and familiar.

Usually, night patrols were peaceful, uneventful. Just how I liked them. Which is why I was surprised to find that we’d had an intruder from Alexandria several nights ago; Negan had been furious, of course, in that strange way of his. I’d only been glad that it had been my night off. I wasn’t fond of the idea of meeting the iron, like Carson. Like Dwight.

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Essays in Existentialism: FtWD IX

All through the town, the silence of the new world slunk, filling streets somberly, rolling around with the faded trash and debris, prowling on fences and painting windows with dust and decay. The entire world was brown, clumps of dead lawns, upturned dirt, dead branches– it all blurred into the same shade inevitably.

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anonymous asked:

Imagine of what the dads do for a hurricane/how they'll act. Im in irma right now trying not to panic

To all my followers and everyone reading this who’s near/in the storm: Stay safe!! I hope things won’t be too bad and that you’ll come out just fine.

The fact that the cul-de-sac has its own hurricane shelter shouldn’t have surprised you. Brian was the type of guy who didn’t feel safe unless he built the bunker himself and apparently, he had done just that, sometime after moving into the neighbourhood. At the first news of a storm heading your way, he announced everyone could move down into the bunker until the worst was over. Mat and Damien in particular had declined, at first, saying they wanted to evacuate rather than stay. However, when the roads became too full and the weather worse, leaving by car became a worse prospect than huddling down in a concrete bunker, so all seven families prepared. Joseph, being the natural leader he was, gave each dad a task: Hugo, Brian, Robert and Craig secured the houses so the damages wouldn’t be too bad once the storm passed. Damien made sure they would have electricity and internet so they could know what was going on above ground. His extensive knowledge of herbalism and medicine would come in handy too, if the need ever arose. Mat and Joseph teamed up to prepare enough food and drinks to last them for weeks; down in the ‘pantry’ they stored so many cookies, bread and tea, they could have fed a whole village. Robert, Damien and Hugo supplied the bunker with books, boarding games and other means of entertaining themselves. Lord knew how bad things would get with twenty-one bored people and three hyperactive dogs.

Your job was to help wherever you are needed. Your skills as a [your profession] were of use and being able to jump from one project to the next keeps the fear at bay. News of the storm wreaking havoc a few towns over hang heavy in the air. The fact you’re going to be locked underground in a concrete bunker with twenty other people, most of which were children, certainly doesn’t make things any better. You don’t know how the others did it: With the exception of Damien, Mat and Hugo, to some extent, none of the dads look as nervous as you. Brian seems excited about finally getting to use his bunker and he’s bragging about it to anyone who would listen. For once, his showing-off doesn’t annoy you; his confidence in his workmanship is reassuring. Robert is doing his thing, meaning he is telling stories about how he had survived worse storms than that, how he once drove into the eye of a hurricane and saw a creature whose appearance went beyond words at the centre. But you can see he’s nervous, though you’re not sure whether it’s because of the storm or at the prospect of having to spend who-knew-how-long locked inside a bunker with Joseph. Said man is not so much nervous as he is restless. Between organising the neighbourhood’s shelter, he goes from house to house, helps people pack up their necessities and leave town, bakes more cookies, brownies and pastries than a place thrice the size of Maple Bay would need, and runs himself haggard. It takes a pout and a stern glare until he finally slows down and thinks about himself too. Craig, your bro, he’s clearly nervous, but keeping it together. He’s working non-stop to secure and protect the houses and helps carry down everything they’d need while down in the bunker. Like Joseph, he needs a firm reminder to relax – as much as one could, with a major storm heading your way. The rest of the dads and you, you’re buzzing in worry, each passing day making you even more nervous. When the time to go down into the bunker finally comes, you’re on the verge of panic. Thousands of scenarios flash through your brain. The exit could be buried under debris or a fallen tree and you might not be able to leave. Something very, very heavy could crush the concrete and you inside of it. Brian assures you again and again that’s almost impossible, showers you in statistics and tells you all about his experience and craftsmanship, but that doesn’t really help.

You’re the last one outside – or so you thought. Strong arms wrap around you from behind and [Dad] kisses your temple.

 🥃 “Come on, kid, I’d rather not meet that thing inside the storm again. The second time, I might not be able to escape.” You chuckle nervously and turn around. He doesn’t look relaxed, either, but his usual gruff demeanour takes away some of your tension. Robert takes your hand in his and wordlessly tugs you along down the stairs.

🍸 “We should better head down,” Joseph says and gently squeezes you. Covering his hands with yours, you look up at the dark grey sky and gulp. “Hey, Y/N, don’t worry. I trust in Brian’s construction, our planning and the Lord, not necessarily in that order. Nothing will happen. I promise.” You lace your fingers and, after some hesitation, nod. “Let’s go.”

☕ Mat doesn’t say anything. He keeps on throwing nervous glances over his shoulder, up to the sky and to the bunker door, and sometimes his gaze settles on you. He looks like he’s trying to think of something to say, some way to reassure you, but coming up short. “Baby, it’s going to be fine,” you say, kissing his cheek. “Have faith.” Mat nods and gives you a weak smile, before you two walk up to the door.

🌹 Damien is even paler than normal and when you take his hands in yours, they are trembling. It’s not fear you can read in his eyes, but he’s close to panic. You pull him close and kiss the corner of his lips. “We’re going to be fine, darling. Brian knows what he’s doing. We’ll be fine. And once we’re back above ground, we’ll restore your garden, okay?” Damien sighs at the mention of his poor flowers, but nods. “Of course, dear. I believe it is time to descend. Shall we?” He offers you his arm and you take it.

🎣 “How many times have I run things through with you? There’s literally no way anything bad can happen to us in the bunker. I should know, I built it!” Brian squeezes you tight before releasing you and making you turn to face him. “Do you not trust me?” You pout. “It’s not fair to pull that line when I’m irrationally panicked.” He grins. His little trick works, though, and you’re feeling a lot less unsure now. “Of course I trust you, you bear.” Brian nudges you towards the bunker, his arm around your waist a steady, comforting warmth.

👟 Craig tightens his grip and you try to squirm out of his arms, but he doesn’t let go. He lifts you effortlessly and throws you over his shoulder. “I share your nervousness, bro,” he says. “There isn’t even a treadmill down there, do you even know how much my workout plan is going to suffer?” You snort against the small of his back. “But I trust Brian. He wouldn’t have invited us all down there if he wasn’t sure everything would be fine. Don’t think the storm’ll get you out of your sit ups and push ups, though.” With a groan you resign yourself to your fate.

📖 Hugo releases you almost immediately in favour of nervously pushing up his glasses. He looks composed, but you’ve known him for long enough to see the lines of worry on his face, the tightness of his jaw. You lean up to kiss him; he blinks at you. “We’re going to be fine,” you say and your tone of voice makes it sound more like a question than a statement. Hugo lets out a breath and nods. “We’ll be, unless my son and Lucien stir up trouble while down there.” You chuckle and take his hand. “Better make sure they aren’t planning something already.”

Spy au

 A cute idea for a shance au, I can’t remember the post but the prompt was something like a spy meeting with an intel agent but instead meets up with an average joe who talks about mundane living but it’s worded in a way that can be mistaken for an understanding of the spy life ™ and vice versa.

In this au Shiro is the spy and Lance is the average joe mistaken for an agent.

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anonymous asked:

holy shit, that sole being tortured one ruined me. good job! could we possibly get a follow up with the aftermath of the torture? I'm all for angst but please don't make it too angsty, I don't think my heart could take it.

(Lol it was torture to write badum tss. But thanks. Hopefully this isn’t too angsty? I can’t tell anymore, it gets away from me sometimes)

Hancock- He plies them with all the liquor and chems they need to make the pain ebb, but he’s mindful of just how much they take. Wouldn’t help anyone if they got out of that den and overdosed a few days later. Goodneighbor is closest, so he lets them sleep in his room until they can get up and around on their own. “Wasn’t your fault,” he tells them quietly a few days later as they laid curled up under his sheets (in a position he’s had dreams of a couple of nights, under happier circumstances). “Ain’t nothing you could have done to keep it from happening. You know that, right?” They hesitate, leaving it to hang a long moment without an answer. He squeezes their arm tenderly. “I want you to remember that.” He leans forward, presses a firm kiss to their forehead and stands. He checks with Fahrenheit to make damn sure not a single rat escaped that nest of sadistic fucks. He hopes Sole sleeps a little easier with them gone.

Nick- He stays close enough to catch them when they stumble. “Take it easy.” They fight him, say they need to get to Sanctuary as soon as possible, that they have work to do, but Nick coaxes them into sitting and taking a breath. “Don’t push yourself. After everything…” He sighs, a hand resting against the back of their neck, cradling their head. “No one expects you to be a superhero all the time. If you need time, you take it. The world won’t fall apart without you for a little while.” They stare at him with slowly crumbling defiance, until they can no longer hold it together under the weight of his gaze. They sink forward against his chest, and he strokes their head in loose circles until the tears come.

MacCready- He hates himself. As much as he wants to be there for Sole, he can’t look at them. He makes sure they’re taken care of, well fed and healing properly, but beyond that, he stays at arm’s length. He can’t see anything but his failings in the bruises and barely healed cuts on their cheeks. He’s just reminded of everyone he’s let down in his life, Sole being the newest addition to that list. He speaks in clipped sentences and sits far on the other side of the campfire from them, hugging his rifle in his lap. Sole tries to coerce a conversation out of him, but like the nights before, he keeps his answers short. “Robert.” He twitches slightly. He knows what they’ll say even before they say it; “What’s going on with you?” MacCready huffs, “Of course you’d ask me that. You get butchered and you ask me what’s wrong.” They blanch at his response, but it’s started now and he can’t stop. “I should have… I don’t know what I should have done. I should have kept them off you.” He wipes stubbornly at the fat blobs of salt water welling in the corners of his eyes. “God, and I’m so damn selfish, I haven’t even thought about how you much worse you must feel…” Why did Sole put up with him? Why did Lucy, or 101, or anyone ever put up with him? They wrap around him from behind and his eyes grow wide. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, clinging to their arms, “I’m so sorry, Sole…”

X6-88- He doesn’t even ask; Once they’re both free and clear, he relays them both to the Institute. He doesn’t trust any waster with their care. Sole is taken to the medical wing and X6 is taken for repairs of his own. His injuries heal a lot easier than theirs. “Sir/ma'am,” he begins as they both sit on a bench in the lobby, near the shade of artificial trees, “Are you feeling well?” They are still covered in gauze, but X6 is assured the recovery process has been expedited considerably. “I’ll live. You?” “I saw it again. When I was sleeping.” His fingers curl against his lap. “I believe there is an anomaly in my programming. I have been considering turning myself in for assessment before it gets any worse. It could be a threat to the safety of you and the Institute if I am unable to perform my duties at an optimal level. Not only that… but in allowing you to come to harm, I failed my highest priority mission. You would be better off in the care of someone else.” They lay their hand over his. “If I ordered you not to get reprogrammed, would you have to do what I do say?” His brows knit at the question. “If I believe I am becoming a danger, then it would be irresponsible of you to give me such an order. But… if it was given…. I would be obligated to follow it.” “Then it’s given.” He stares at them from behind his sunglasses, observing the purple bruises flaring down their temple, and the way they frown at him. In this instance, he could easily circumvent their wishes. It would be the wiser decision in the long run. But he turns forward, staring at the reflections in the glass floor. He doesn’t want to forget them as much as they don’t want him to forget. “Very well,” he complies. For better or worse, he would hold onto the experience he’d like nothing more than to forget.

Danse- It’s difficult to move on from something like this, but Sole keeps moving. He admires them even more than before, and not just as a soldier. He insists on carrying most of the junk they (for some reason) always want to lug around and keeps them both on the routes which pose the less danger. If they find a fight, he takes point. If they look weak, he insists on a Stimpak. If the sun goes down, he stops them and sets up camp. They express with some annoyance that they liked it much better being the leader than the follower. “It’s only temporary. Just until you’re back in fighting shape.” He gives them a portion of his rations, and takes the first watch while they sleep, as he has for the last five nights. His caution near borders on paranoia, but there’s no way in hell he’s letting it happen again. He’d sooner die than see them in that position again.

Curie- She whispers curses and has to flick away the dewdrops on her lashes as she’s tending to Sole’s wounds. “I do not understand humanity at times. People should not hurt others like this. For any reason!” She’s confused, a little afraid, and every time she looks at the crosshatch of stitches, she finds her eyes watering again. She feels compelled to lay a kiss just above one of the cuts on their back and sigh against their skin. “I am so sorry this happened to you.” She’s gentle in her care for their injuries, but firm when she tells them they absolutely must stay on bedrest for awhile, and even if she needs to hold them down to keep them put.

Piper- She delivers on that promise of an ice cold Nuka Cola once they’re back in Diamond City. She makes sure the doc patches them up and curls up with them on the couch once they’ve got the greenlight to head home. Nat knows something very bad happened, so she keeps her distance and stays quiet, excusing herself to go upstairs and finish her homework. Piper pets Sole’s head as they lay in her lap. The glowing bottle of soda is left on the table, untouched. “We can talk whenever you’re ready. Talk helps.” At least, it usually did. She leans her head back, lightly runs her nails up and down their scalp until they both fall asleep. Nat makes them breakfast in the morning. It almost feels normal.

Deacon- “I think you look at least ten percent hotter. Scars are total sex magnets.” He runs his thumb around the burn wound, skirting the edges just enough that he doesn’t cause them pain. “You know what… it looks a little like a bunny.” Sole laughs, then immediately asks that he not make them laugh as they replace the bandages around their waist. What other choice does he have? If he doesn’t hear it, he’ll have nothing to focus on but the pain of his own wounds and their limping gait, both things he’d really like to forget for awhile. “You’re a real badass now. Nobody can call themselves a secret agent until they’ve been roughed up a little by bald guys with the ‘sinister big bad’ starter pack.” He slings an arm around their shoulders on the trip back to HQ. Both because he needs to remind himself that they’re here, they’re still alive, and so they can lean their weight against him to alleviate the hobble in their step. He prods them over the course of the next few weeks whenever they need to apply a Stimpak, a dose of Med-X, or a change of bandages.

Codsworth- He insists Sole lay down the moment they reach Sanctuary, and doesn’t let them get up for anything. Even trips to the bathroom are a battle, with Codsworth not wanting them to move an inch and Sole not wanting to piss in a bottle. He brings them breakfast, lunch, and dinner in bed, and on the sparing few occasions they absolutely need to get up, he’s there to be their crutch. “I was terribly worried about you,” he tells them as he’s folding and putting away clothes in a rickety handmade dresser. “I thought you… I thought I was going to…” Sole calls him over from his task to run their hand along his chassis. “I’m not going anywhere, Codsworth.”
“Please don’t. It was terribly lonely without you all that time… I would be quite… lost without you, sir/mum.”

Cait- She breaks three of her knuckles and fractures her orbital socket in the frenzied attack, but she insists it’s nothing compared to what Sole went through. After receiving treatment from a nearby settlement, Sole wakes up to Cait with an armful of liquor. She dumps them onto the bed and shoves a glass into their arms. “No better pain killer in the wasteland!” She fetches one for for herself and clinks it off Sole’s. “We’re gonna drink until we’re smashed, and then we’re gonna drink some more.” She opens up a bottle of bourbon and splashed a shot into both their glasses, and downs hers while Sole is staring at her. “Yeah, sounds like a great coping mechanism,” they chuckle dryly. “S'the only one that works worth a damn,” she rebuts, tipping the bottom of their cup up towards their lips.

Preston- He takes over many of the General’s responsibilities, and unless it’s of the utmost importance, he doesn’t bother them with it. He checks in every morning with the Castle’s doc to get a report on Sole’s condition, even after they’re well enough to get around by themselves, and ensures they have all the supplies to make Stimpaks and other meds. He wants to talk to them about it, make sure their mental condition isn’t as damaged as their physical, but his throat becomes unbearably dry whenever he tries. He finds them one day, standing on the Castle walls, as the sun was setting across the ocean and painting the waters with blazing color. He stands with them awhile, glancing between the visible scars and the majesty of the sunset. “I won’t let my guard down again, General. I promise.” His fingers wind around theirs and squeeze ever so slightly.

Dogmeat- He lays across Sole’s lap, and growls at anyone that comes close. Even settlers and friends in Sanctuary are warned to keep their distance. It serves Sole’s reclusive nature just fine after what they went through, and they’re glad to have company in solitude.

Strong- Human moves slow, tells him they “just need a minute”. He gets sick of it quickly, so he picks them up and places them on his shoulders, carrying them most of the way through the city until they reach the city with lights. “Other humans weak,” he tells them when they’re being treated, “If they were strong, woulda eaten you, like brothers do. But you alive.” He pats them on the back and pops at least a dozen stitches.

Ways To Say I’m Sorry-Chapter 1

This is the first prompt for #ChloNathWeek2k17. Thanks to @powerdragonmoon for organizing this. 

Chapter [you are here]


Chapter One-Bickering/Flirting

Chloe Bourgeois had a lot of regrets in her life. She regretted leaving Paris during her father’s time of need. She regretted losing the respect of her idol and good friend. She regretted pushing everyone close to her away when she needed them most. But her biggest regret of all was squandering her last Euros on a cheap dye job.

After several long years as mayor, all of her father’s dirty dealings had finally come back to bite him in ass. He was impeached resigned in disgrace and still under investigation with the government.  As soon as the shit hit the fan, Chloe ran off to London with a bag of cash and very little planning. With her lavish spending habits, the money only lasted a month. She soon sold several of her belongings and bought a ticket back to Paris to smooth things over with her father.

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Your Home. (Our Home.)

Based on @ramskulls‘s awesome Green-thumbs AU, in exchange for some excellent artwork. Featuring police officer Casey and flower shop owner Leo, and a lot of cute boyfriend fluff. (also minor background relationships even more rare than theirs.)

AO3 version if preferred.


Casey and Leo move in together. Accidentally. And without noticing.


It starts, probably speaking, with a forgotten jacket.

It’s still casual at that point for them; coffee shop dates, movie nights, the occasional bar trip with Leo’s siblings. They’re testing the waters still, Casey and Leo, to see where they really click, and where they might need to work on things. So they’ve been sticking to light stuff; things straight out of fourth grade. Hand-holding, knees touching, and rare and momentary kisses- things that are so sickeningly sweet, its tooth rotting. It took them months to reach this point, but each slow step of the way has been wonderful to experience.

Of course, there’s always a point that a relationship moves a level upwards. Neither of them noticed reaching that point, or going above it. Not until much later.

Leo’s hours in the shop are steady, regular. He knows his schedule and work hours like the back of his hand because he’s the one who made them. Owning a flower shop can be tiring at times, especially when customers get overly picky, or cause a fuss because their rose order wasn’t just right, but it’s worth it. Mostly because he loves his work, and partially because he just likes being in charge of his own job hours.

Casey on the other hand, his hours can go all over the place depending on what tough case is on his desk that week. He’s not exactly high up in the system yet, but he’s up there enough that he’s called into all sorts of messy situations. When it’s not stressful, his work is just plain tiring, and sometimes he wonders why on earth his younger self wanted to be a police officer so much. Most nights, or days, depending on the shift, he’s pretty tuckered out from either paperwork or dealing with plain old stupid people for too many hours.

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See Past It//Josh Dun

Note: This is something near and dear to my heart that I’ve been thinking of doing for a while—but just got the guts to do today. After a pretty deep talk with my coworker about it.

And No this isn’t real, Josh doesn’t actually suffer from this.


               If there was one thing Josh hated about himself more than anything—it was what he couldn’t control. The way his eyes would blink hard, looking like he was fatigued, or suffering from dry eyes (which coupled as his favorite excuse for what was going on), the way he would unconsciously clear his throat, or scrunch his nose up like he smelled a foul odor.

               He hated himself, because it just started. No pre-requisites to warn him, nobody to explain what this was, or that he was in fact a normal teenager, despite what was going on. Nobody in his family did the same things as he did—they never complained of actions they didn’t mean to do. They never had sore muscles from involuntary movements. They would tell him “just stop, that’s annoying”. That’s what everyone would say. Stop, it’s annoying.

               Except, nobody stopped to think how annoyed Josh must’ve gotten by it. How tired his eyes got from the firm blink after blink—or how sore his throat would get on days when it would act up. He had a lot of soreness, and he hated it. He hated losing control to his own body. Which was a constant battle—if he was overtired. You bet it would cluster up into a storm. If he was sick—oh that throat is going to get it! If he was anxious—kiss your eye muscles goodbye because they’re about to be so sore. It felt like every little stressor in his life was enunciated by these uncontrolled movements—god how he wished them away.

               “It’s like, I go into any public place—and when people stare and whisper, or laugh I know it’s about me. Because I’m the one who’s doing all these weird things. If one thing goes away, another comes up.” Josh confessed one night, to a boy he barely knew. The two were over the edge intoxicated (which didn’t help the movements Josh found himself unconsciously doing)—which led to drunken confessions. “I just wish I was normal. I never asked for this, I never did anything to cause this.” He sighed, taking a long drink of the alcohol in his hand. Wishing to find relaxation from all the strain his facial muscles were put through day after day.

               “That doesn’t change anything though dude, you’re still sick.” The younger male slurred, putting an arm around his newfound friend. “If anyone tries to mess with you, I’ll defend you so much.” And from that moment on, he kept his word.

               The time Josh went for a haircut—and cleared his throat, one too many times to be exact. He had no idea why the hairdresser jumped back—covering her mouth like he was the plague.

               “What’s wrong?” Josh asked, worried that something he may have said (or his silence) offended the woman, even before the haircut began.

               “Are you sick?!” She snapped, using her scarf to keep her mouth hidden from the boy in front of her. “Whatever you have I don’t need—I’m pregnant.” Josh opened his mouth to explain, to tell her it was involuntary—or make up some lame excuse like he always did.

               “Actually—he has involuntary tics like that. And I have an involuntary need to stay away from people like you.” Tyler stepped in, keeping true to his word that he gave Josh months ago. “C’mon Josh. Let’s go somewhere else.” Tyler shot a look to his friend—who looked on the verge of tears.

               They barely made it to Tyler’s car before Josh had tears running down his face. Mumbling his dreams of being normal, just wanting to stay out of people’s radar when he walked up town. Not get questioned on “why do you do that all the time?”

               It took a good 3-4 years for Josh to accept who he was, accept that it wasn’t a disease he was plagued with, rather than a slight inconvenience. Though, it gave him much more reason to be different from anyone in a group—and through the whole journey Tyler stood by his side. Taking him out of situations where he felt pinpointed and degraded for the things he couldn’t control.


               End of story note: If you don’t quite realize what this was about—I don’t blame you. Hell I wouldn’t know what muscle touretts was myself if I wasn’t plagued with the damn thing. So in short—I have tics, like the ones mentioned above. I blink my eyes hard, I clear my throat and sometimes when a Tourette’s storm hits, I scrunch my nose up (God I hate the storms—its everything all at once and makes you feel like you’re honest to god drowning). I’ve been like this for a good 3-4 years (2013 or 2014, I can’t remember. Maybe even earlier I don’t know), and for most of those I lied through my teeth about what was wrong because I was ashamed of admitting I was screwed up.

               So to anyone (followers or anyone who sees this), you’re not alone. I have it, I can name at least 3 other people that have it (I’ve never personally met them, but in my healthcare career I’ve had people bring it up, then tell me a story of someone close to them who has the same thing). It sucks, and if you’re like me there’s really nothing you can do about it besides suck it up and live with it.

               If you know someone who has this, be patient. If you think it’s annoying at times, imagine living with it 24/7, no breaks—just periods of better and worse. It’s not something you’d wish upon your worst enemy, and any support for people like me—well we love to know we aren’t being singled out in a group.

               If you’ve read this far, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for letting me get this off my chest—and taking the time to open your mind (and maybe even educate yourself to get the word out) about this. Because like I said, when it came on I was terrified and felt beyond alone.

               Thanks guys!

               Yours truly,

               Sam (justtwentyonewriters)

Why Sam said the things he did to Dean about Mary in 13.4

And why even if it’s not all true from a narrating stand point, IT IS AN EXTREMELY VALID PERSPECTIVE TO HOLD.

[I wrote this meta originally to this post where people are only focusing on writer’s narration in general as opposed to getting into both Dean and Sam’s shoes separately. You can see the whole post here or simply read this . In this case I will be getting into Sam’s since he’s the one who said mom only ever came to Dean for everything.]

I’m going to *attempt* to crack Sam’s head as to why he said these things, and why the writers are actually writing Sam’s thoughts from a  realistic standpoint.

[cracks knuckles]

Here we go! (this will be LONG AF) because of all the issues that lead someone to be/act/say such things.

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Escape; pt. 5

Reader x Jungkook // (???)!AU // 4237 words

Summary: Everyone has a number over their heads that says how useful they are to society from 0-100. You have a number ‘4’. You leave the city for some peace but you meet your cocky neighbor who seems to get on your nerves.

Genre: Fluff?

Y/L/N refers to your last name/family name

A/N: HI FRIENDS. SURPRISE! I have an exam coming up the week after next so I wanted to get this out first cause I’ll probably be studying all week next week. Anyway, back to the story… Hoseok *wiggles eyebrows*

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 6


You couldn’t believe your luck. It was surreal seeing him in front of you. Just my luck right? You’re barely ever in the city and if you were and you’re never usually in this part of the city. Of all people to meet, it just had to be Hoseok.

Jimin hated being in the office after hours and he especially hated the guilt that hung over his head every time he was in the security room trying to break the code for Mr. Jeon.

Jimin entered the words on the piece of paper that Taehyung had given him.

The screen goes blank and Jimin starts sweating.


The screen turns black and slowly words began to appear.

Dome: _ _   _ _ _ _ _ ‘_

Island: _ _   _ _ _ _

Animal: _ _ _ _ _

Disappointment: ______

Elope: _ _ _ _ _   _ _ _ _

Moral Code: _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“Sir, there are dashes for the corresponding answers. I guess this will make it easier but honestly, none of this makes sense to me.”

“Just send me the details,” Mr Jeon says. “You’ve done well so far, Jimin,” He continues and then he ends the call abruptly.

Jimin winces at the comment. He hated that he was in this position. This company and your family meant the world to him. The fact that he could put food on the table for his family was all because of this job at Y/L/N Logistics and he wished he could take back that mistake he made all those years ago. If only he pushed away his pride and asked for a loan from your family, he wouldn’t be in this position. Every time Mr. Jeon hung up on him, he would let out a heavy sigh. He wonders what you would think of him if you ever found out that he played a major part in the imminent fall of your family’s company.

You sat on the bench swinging your legs above the ground as you watched Buster roll around on the grass. Jungkook was sat inches away from you, observing your every move. You didn’t really know what to say to him. You felt bad for putting him on the spot with Hoseok and all of that and honestly you don’t know why you did that anyway. So what you were single? It shouldn’t have mattered but you got yourself into this mess anyway.

“So, I think I went above and beyond the call of duty back there at that coffee shop so… I deserve an explanation,” Jungkook suddenly says, bringing you back to reality and out of your thoughts.

You bite your lower lip nervously. He really did deserve one despite the no questions asked favour because with each question Hoseok threw at Jungkook, he was able to answer each one effortlessly. He made it all so believable. He held you close and pecked your cheek in between answers and you just looked up at him, as if you were in awe.

“How many months have the two of you been together?” Hoseok asks while glancing at Jungkook’s hand that now rests on your waist.

You swallow nervously, trying to think of a reasonable number but Jungkook answers almost instantaneously.

“Oh, it’s been about maybe 3 months now? Right, babe?” Jungkook looks at you and you only nod in agreement. “It doesn’t really matter though, I just wished I could’ve gotten closer to her much sooner,” He says as he lightly squeezed your side and you can only smile in response. What a fuckin’ cheeseball.

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beyond repair

read on ao3

summary: robert reaches breaking point

based on a conversation with @sapphicsugden

content warnings: depression, implied accidental self-harm, disordered eating

Three weeks after Robert goes missing, Victoria finds him asleep in the back of his car, parked up on a verge just outside of Hotten. She just happens to be passing on her way back from a wedding reception. The van smells like cold hot dogs and she has the windows down to expel the smell. The stench will cling to her clothes and hair even after washing, so the smell of manure smeared fields is a welcome reprieve. She’s singing along to an Ed Sheeran song when she sees the car. She quietens immediately. The music seems to shoot up in volume as she tries to work out what this could mean.  

The van pulls up onto the verge with a shudder. Something in the back falls to the floor and shatters, but Victoria doesn’t go back to assess the damage. She shuts off the engine and opens the door, hopping down onto the soft grass. It’s a humid day. The grey clouds lie across the sky like a duvet and the air is a jumper that can’t be removed. Despite the heat, the windows in Robert’s car are opaque with condensation. Victoria’s mind begins to spin. A disaster movie plays on the backs of her eyelids and she wonders what she could find in that car. Unable to stand the apprehension any longer, she surges forward, quickly closing the distance between the van and the car. She pulls down the sleeve of her long-sleeved t-shirt over her hand and scrubs at the back window. Much to her frustration, this does nothing; the condensation is on the inside. Steeling herself for the worst, she takes a deep breath and raps a fist against the glass.


When no response comes, she knocks again. Harder this time. So hard that her knuckles glow red and sing with pain.


She keeps knocking, fighting against the urge to dislodge a brick from a crumbling wall nearby and put it through the window. She can hear herself shouting, her voice taking on panicked edge that she hardly recognises. She’s being ridiculous. Robert isn’t an old dog, he wouldn’t just slip away quietly to-

The lock clicks.

Victoria grabs the handle and wrenches the door open with such force that she almost knocks herself backwards. The smell of whisky and body odour rolls over her in a wave. Robert lies on his side, curled up on the rear seats with his face pressed into the backrest. Victoria stands over her brother, staring, trying make sense of what she’s seeing. It is Robert, she’s sure of it, but at the same time it’s barely him. His usually immaculate hair is matted against his skull and his cheeks are shadowed with blonde stubble. Robert is the kind of person that takes up space, who walks into a room and occupies every corner. This Robert isn’t him. This Robert is small.

Swallowing through the tightness in her throat, Victoria crouches down next to the car, placing a hand on her brother’s shoulder. He doesn’t so much as flinch.

‘Robert? It’s me. Are you okay?’  

He clearly isn’t, but what else can she ask?

‘Can you sit up, Robert?’

It takes a moment, but he does. The more he uncurls himself, the more apparent it is that something is very wrong. His face his drawn; his cheekbones hollowed out and his eyes sunken back into his skull. There’s blood on the collar of his shirt, purple against the blue material, and more unidentifiable stains down his front. Victoria clamps her hands over her mouth, breathing through her fingers and doing her best to fight back tears.

‘Oh God, Robert, what happened?

Robert doesn’t speak. While Victoria gets him something to eat, he watches the rain slide down the window pane, turning the village outside into a smeared canvas. He nibbles on the skin at the tip of his thumb, his nails bitten back to almost non-existent bloody slithers. Victoria watches him from the kitchen while she waits for the kettle to boil. She’s tried talking to him. All the way back she’d bombarded him with questions. Where had he been? Why hadn’t he called? Why was he living in his car? But he didn’t answer, just watched the world speed past the window of the van.  

As Victoria pours the tea she looks at the family photo that sits on the windowsill. Five smiling faces trapped behind a layer of glass. Her dad and her mum and her two brothers and her. Seeing them all together like that feels like the most impossible miracle. Victoria sees families all the time. Sees them sat together in the pub or walking to the shops. She wishes that she didn’t hate them, but it’s hard to look up into the lush branches of a great oak when her own family tree is withering. She tries to keep it alive, but no matter how often she waters the gnarled roots it keeps dying.

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Bleach 686

Guys, this is the last time I’m ever gonna address anything regarding bleach. I hope everyone respects that, especially the people who are gonna go anon and bash me for posting this after everything.


 The last chapters of bleach were pure disappointment not because my two main ships didn’t work out the way I wanted it to but I couldn’t really make any sense of it. I’m sorry as a manga, bleach really lost its pace. I spent 10 years with this manga and I was here to see till the end. I invested a lot of time and energy into this fandom and everything. I really expected better from Kubo.


 I’m really happy for princess. She finally has a loving family and a child. I’m glad that she’s with Ichigo. If IchiHime was meant to be from the start then why so much emphasis on IchiRuki. He could have given  Orihime so much character development. So much more but no he made it seem as if she only existed for Ichigo. I actually believed that Kubo was one of those writers that would actually make IshiHime canon.


  • IshiHime was a ship that could have portrayed the fact that, you don’t always find love in the places you look for but sometimes you find it in the most unexpected places, from a person that loved you from the start even though you never loved them back.  This is coming from my personal experiance entirely I’ve liked this guy for 5 years and IshiHime really gave me hope that one day I will find someone that will love me as much as I love them.

Orihime was a very decent and humble character. I loved her and enjoyed her warm and caring nature but she could have been such a badass as an individual. She was never mean or a bitch to anyone ever and neither was Rukia (please do note that) I dont understand why would he put Ichigo and Rukia together panel after panel with all his shippy gear on. Orihime had more better interactions with Chad and Uryu than she ever had with Ichigo. If Kubo had sold her and Ichigo as black sun and white sun from the start, man I would have shipped the shit out of it.

Third: I hated how Kubo made Chad and Uryuu something that they never wanted to be.

Uryu hated his dad most his life. He never wanted to follow his dads footsteps, which is why the song numb by linkin park reminded me of him so much. He had been misunderstood by most of his friends and even the readers in the first chapters but that cunty, snooty boy came to understand that friendship is one of the most strongest bond to exist. This arc should have  been about him and Ichigo abd their past and origins. Ichigo, who kept getting his bankai broken over and over again. Why couldn’t they just tag team the two of them for the last time?
Uryu didn’t have a mother, his father treated him as a low life runt. Even Isshin tried. He did try to understand Ichigo not with the best method to do so but he still tried where as Uryu’s father didn’t. I think Orihime and Uryu really deserved each other. In an alternate ending I could have imagined him to be a world class designer and Orihime by his side doing whatever makes her happy perhaps a very nice cafe with interesting serving, where the customers only came to eat and would be disappointed by the food but melt and forget the bad taste the food left on their mouth as soon as Orihime would flash her beautiful smile at them (Sigh).

Chad promised he’d never hurt anyone with his fists but help others lol. Really? a boxer? I hated this THE MOST. Chad really deserved better, even though he looked hot as fuck in the panels where he was shown. I think he should have owned a record store or made good mexican music or he could have been the doctor or worked at Kurosaki clinic or something, anything other than being a boxer would have suited him more.

Fourth: Why didn’t Kubo show or complete the states that the other characters were in. I really hoped they would show some Jinta/Yuzu or something regarding Urahara and Yoruichi who helped Ichigo achieve bankai and trained him so he could be strong and protect his friends.
Is Isshin Kurosaki dead? because that would just be sad. I could imagine him to be a great grandparent to Kazui. Kubo really should have at least mentioned this much but he didn’t. I could go on and on about how bad the chapter was but I’m gonna stop now and start pouring my shipper heart out.

Last and the most important topic I wanted to address is my otp, IchiRuki.

I’m sorry to all the IchiRuki shippers that got their hearts and hoped shattered into a million pieces after 686. I feel betrayed and angry as well but let’s not be pricks and be the bigger person. I’m gonna make a request to all IchiHime shippers.
Firstly, congrats guys, princess finally ended up with the man of her dreams as an IchiRuki shipper I never hated on her or said anything mean about her. I’m glad that she’s happy even though it’s not boy I wanted her to end up with but despite everything, I am genuinely happy for her.

Second, I would be really happy if some of you weren’t not so hostile to IchiRuki shippers, please understand that a lot of people found peace in this ship and now they are a mess. Be humble comfort us, Orihime would never been like “yeah bitch I got the dude” instead she would tried and comfort us IchiRuki shippers, she would’ve started crying for an hour, binged on so much ice cream that she would get a tummy ache and fall asleep.

The picture above is the picture of the last IchiRuki coloured page I had made. I was so proud of this and now every time I open my notebook. I feel sad, beyond words. Ichigo and Rukia were the definition of soulmates. I wanted them to be together so bad. I can’t really express it in words about how I feel. I don’t remember a single day where I did not visit the IchiRuki tag. I’m disappointed a lot. So much build up for nothing. Kubo seemed like he threw the idea of IR down the window so suddenly, that I can’t even cope with it. I’d rather have dead characters than an ass pull ending like this. It’s so shitty and rushed. I feel like crying. I invested so much I don’t know what to do with all these beautiful colored pages I had made for this amazing ship. I’m devastated. Laugh at me all you want but I am so depressed with the ending. From the beginning I could see the chemistry and the electricity that Rukia and Ichigo gave off when they interacted. The SS arc, which is my most favorite arc was the biggest pillar that IchiRuki has something more than friendship. A bond of love and trust and what not lol I guess I’m a little delusional. Let’s take  moment to honor this beautiful ship one more time and move on. Thank you every good anon, some great blogs like @peachtiger, @icchiruki, @50shadesofichigo, @daethberry, @ishihime-4-ever and so many more. Thank you, I respect and love each one of you. Stay strong, this bond will always be unbreakable but still life goes on and we all have to move on.

Kubo really fucked up and the worst part is they plan to make a live action movie which I doubt will sell shit. I would never pay a dime to just watch actors waste their time by portraying incomplete roles lol.

Anyways I’m done. Thank you everyone, the Bleach, Ginran, IshiHime and Ichiruki fandom I love each and every one of you. It’s been a roller coaster of emotions and heartache and its time to move on. I’ll still follow all the blogs that I followed for IchiRuki and IshiHime. Have a nice life bleach fandom for as you lost one hardcore dedicated reader.

Thank you and Au Revoir.  💙 💙

Side note: I am extremely addled at the moment as I write this post. So sorry in advance if I managed to piss any of you off.

Oh and dont you dare and try to steal that great art. Thanks in advance. Much love. xoxo 💙 💙

The Thing About Defan

Recently, I’ve been getting a lot of asks/comments about Defan, most anons share my views concerning Stefan and Damon’s relationship in that we don’t believe that their “unshakeable bond” their “epic love story” really exists but this seems to be something that people really want to talk about so I’m going to try to articulate my thoughts on the issue.

OK so, I’m rewatching Supernatural so I’m comparing Dean and Sam to Stefan and Damon and mind you this is seasons 1-5 Dean and Sam because I honestly couldn’t care less about Supernatural beyond the first five seasons but part of what makes Dean and Sam work is that they act like brothers, which is really important:

And we don’t really get that with Defan, we don’t get the annoying quirks, the getting on each other’s nerves, the sayings that only they say to each other, we get it once in 1x09:

But that’s kind of it? And it actually detracts from showing that they’re supposed to have a bond, that they are in fact brothers who know each other despite the fact that they were separated because Dean and Sam were estranged as well but they’re still brothers from the minute they’re introduced:

This isn’t to say that Damon and Stefan don’t have nice moments, they do on a microcosmic level:

Seasons 1 and 2 and parts of season 3 especially show that they have some tenderness beneath the resentment and that when push comes to shove they’ll make sure the other won’t die but Damon literally does too much shit to Stefan for Stefan’s devotion to Damon to make sense.

He killed Lexi on Stefan’s birthday, like can you think about that? Lexi was Stefan’s friend for over a century, she was there for him when no one else was and Damon killed her on Stefan’s birthday. And then there’s the fact that Damon continuously puts love interests above Stefan:

While Stefan continuously puts his brother above love interests:

And we see Stefan repeatedly save and sacrifice for Damon and vouch for Damon and not give up on Damon:

While Stefan is almost like an afterthought to Damon and when he does help him it’s usually like *sigh well he saved me so I have to save him*

But with Sam and Dean, it’s more than familial obligation, when Sam dies, Dean goes to hell for him and it’s not a byproduct of a plan that was supposed to succeed but didn’t like when Damon ends up dying for Stefan, he literally sells his soul for Sam and it eats Sam up, the thought of a world without his brother tortures Sam as much as a world without Sam tortured Dean:

Defan just doesn’t have the overall endearing quality that Supernatural’s brother duo is predicated on for Julie to claim that they’re the true love story of the show, they don’t even feel like brothers tbqh and it’s hard to believe that Stefan means what the writers try to say he means to Damon when Damon can toss Stefan easily to the side in favour of a romantic interest or in favour of his own needs, the show didn’t transition from familial obligation to genuine brotherly bonding and when they do have those “bonding” talks, it’s always about Delena and sometimes Steroline, do they even know each other outside the confines of their respective romantic relationships? It’s a weak ship.

Keep Calm and Kiss Me

For Olivarry Week Day 6 - Hostage/Kidnapped AU. [words:1340] [ao3]

This day really isn’t turning out like Barry planned.

They’d both taken the summer job at Big Belly Burger around the same time. Barry had just wanted to get some extra money to pay for his college fees (his foster father has been doing his best, but being a single father of three has got to be difficult on the funds, despite the man’s protests to the contrary), and Oliver… well. Apparently Oliver’s there to learn some self-discipline, after getting into some trouble over a drinking related mishap. 

Barry’s still not managed to get the full story of that one yet, but he fully intends to some day.

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The Stars Walk Backwards (2/2)

Summary: It’s only supposed to ever be one night, but before they know it, it’s a doorway in Paris, and an apartment in San Diego, and a blinking low battery light in Maine. Emma knows she needs to let Killian go, but there’s always that one day a year she can’t seem to stay away…

Rating: M

Also on ao3 or ff (where it is broken into 4 parts for those who prefer smaller chunks)

[Part 1]


June 19, 2009

She hopes he’ll forget, that life will sweep him away and her impulsive, guilt-ridden promise will be just another missed moment in this crazy life of theirs.

There’s no reason to cling to this one day, after all. She’s seen the photos of him with the same woman for months, the way that woman looks at him with adoring eyes and a happy, easy smile. They look good together, Killian with his rockstar attitude and the cute actress with the rich chestnut hair and short skirts.

He deserves to be happy, but when he reminds her in January that she promised, and if she needs to request leave, she had better do it now, she puts in the request despite the fresh flood of guilt. She assures herself that come June, it won’t matter, because he’ll be somewhere with the actress, and she’ll take herself to the beach. Or something. She won’t be the woman who helps him throw away what appears to be an actual, healthy relationship for a sandcastle on a fault line.

But two weeks before the nineteenth, she opens an email while killing time waiting in her hotel room in Rio to find a flight reservation in her name. It’s a one way ticket to an island in the West Indies, and the only other thing his email says is I trust your passport is in order.

Emma types ten replies before she gives up and closes her email, cursing to herself as she drops her head into her hands. What the hell is she doing? She can’t go running off to an island with him. She promised one day. What the hell does he think he’s doing with the one way ticket?

And what about the actress?

She can’t go. Then she backpedals, decides she’ll go, but nothing will happen. They’re still friends, after all. Since he showed up drunk on her doorstep, they’ve resumed their usual correspondence, though he’s never mentioned the actress, and she’s never been brave enough to ask.

Still, she isn’t prepared for the sight of him when she steps out of the tiny airport into the oppressive heat, the deep blue of the sky reflected in his eyes. He looks good, relaxed even, in a pair of shorts and a sleeveless shirt that highlights the definition in his biceps. And his smile when he catches sight of her – a pure, radiant smile – weakens her resolve in an instant.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t come,” he admits as he takes her bag, his palm on the small of her back the only thing she can think of as he guides her toward a waiting car.

“I almost didn’t.” She bites her lip, grateful and disappointed all at once when she gets into the passenger seat and his touch drops away. “What’s with the one way plane ticket?” she asks as he settles into the driver’s seat, slipping a pair of dark glasses over his eyes. “It was supposed to be a day, Killian.”

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