i have a shirt on under the jacket

Reasons I will never get over the diner scene in the last episode of DGHDA

1. Todd and Dirk sitting extremely close together because they are so comfortable with each other now

2. Farah having faith in Dirk and investing in his agency

3. Dirk being completely bowled over by this even though he’s been loudly insisting everyone would join his detective agency for the whole season

4. Dirk then trying to recover from his surprise at having two new friends/colleagues who like him and believe in him, trying to play it cool even though he’s tragically bad at it

5. Todd and Dirk finishing each other’s freaking sentences oh my god

6. “So sane we’re boring”

7. Todd and Farah, the neurotic, affection-starved worrywarts of the show LAUGHING and having a good time with Dirk

8. Dirk wearing the Mexican Funeral t-shirt under his fucking yellow jacket because Todd PICKED OUT THAT FUCKING OUTFIT FOR HIM

9. Farah taking a chance on life and her weird new friends, embracing the weird, you go Farah

10. Dirk being a ball of sunshine and finally having Todd join in his laughter instead of just staring at him with the wide, angry eyes of emotional constipation

11. Did I mention they literally finish each other’s sentences

I mean man, what a great final ending wrap-up scene after which literally nothing happened

Faithfully (Bucky Rockstar AU)

Characters: reader, Bucky, OC Ava Barnes, Steve, Clint, Tony, Wanda.

Summary: Being on the road with your rockstar husband had it’s challenges. What if you found out he was unfaithful? (Avengers AU)

Warnings: babies, pregnancy, possible cheating, tiny bit of language, sex mentions, drinking, nudity, bit of angst, mostly fluff. 

Word Count: 3k (including lyrics)

Song Inspiration: Faithfully by Journey

Tags are at the bottom

A/N: Oof. This idea struck me like lightning. I’ve been working on another fic but felt a little stuck. This one flowed out of me in the space of a few hours. I freaking love Journey and this story! I’ve sacrificed quite a bit of sleep to finish, so I hope it was worth it!! Please let me know your thoughts! Love you guys!! :)



Originally posted by veronikaphoenix

Brushing your fingertip over perfect round cheeks while marveling at gorgeous long lashes and her tiny pout, you fell in love all over again. This little person had your heart. Well. A good portion of it. Speaking of your heart…

You heard rustling in the next “room” followed by the partition sliding aside. Bucky stumbled out of the bedroom, rubbing a hand over his face. His chin-length hair stuck out in ten different directions and he was clad in only a pair of boxers.

“Morning, handsome,” you greeted him with an amused smile.

He let out a groan, “What time is it?”

“Almost noon.”

“And…where are we?”

You chuckled, “Somewhere in the midwest, I think. St. Louis, maybe?”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

can you do a fic or imagine where josh is late to someone's funeral (like a family member or something) and realizes he wants to bring flowers so on his way he steals some from the readers garden!!! fluff if you can :) love you tay xoxo


Warnings: death mention, poor sappy sad josh. 

Note: I’m so sorry that I take so long to update and write. I’ve been in a bad place lately, but I’m trying to pull out of it. You guys are the best, thanks for sticking with me through all this stuff and being so supportive!! honestly idek what this is, I wrote this half asleep all while eating an unhealthy amount of pasta, so please excuse the inevitable typos that you will find. But anyway here’s a kinda sad, kinda fluffy mess of a fic. 

Josh is late. In every sense of the word, he is so late. He’s even still in his work uniform, grey polo shirt scratching uncomfortably under his rain jacket. His hands are freezing and he doesn’t even have any flowers. Ashley is going to be so mad.

He’s power walking, well aware he probably looks like a mom tracking down six kids in a crowded mall (thinking of that makes his heart clench in his chest). There’s one more street to walk down–he refuses to drive there, it makes it feel too real. He stuffs shaking hands in his pockets and turns the corner.

Josh doesn’t have flowers. He’s visiting for the first time since it happened, he’s late, and he doesn’t have flowers.

He’s a block away when he sees them, the roses growing almost chaotically over a small light pink fence. He stops and looks down at them, then around. No one’s watching, so he crouches and picks a decent handful, murmuring a few sorries as the stems snap. He notes the house number and reminds himself to write a thank you note before standing up and continuing on his way.

Everyone’s already there when Josh arrives, eyes watery from the wind. Ashley gives him a look that would’ve been terrifying if not for the red around her eyes, and Josh mouths his apology while passing out hugs.

With a deep breath he crouches and places the six roses at the base of the polished stone. “Hi, mum.” Josh whispers, pressing a kiss into his hand and then to her name. “Sorry I’m late.”

I miss you. I stole these flowers for you, the old lady they belong to probably noticed already. My boss gave me a few extra sick days because she knows. I’m tired of everyone knowing. I love you.

It happens seven times in the course of two months, and Josh really doesn’t mean to make it a habit, but he can never seem to remember the flowers until he’s well on his way, and there are so many of them in the garden that he hardly feels bad. He never got around to writing the note.

He’s sitting in front of the grave with a bunch of daisies. “The girls miss you.” Josh says quietly, arranging the flowers nicely along the stone. The white is almost too bright to look at. “We all miss you, mum.” He whispers, feeling a tear run down his cheek. “Today at work a girl brought in her therapy dog. She was behind the counter with me and her dog—I can’t remember it’s name, but it spent the whole time licking my shoe. Reckon he knows, too? Anyway, it was nice. Maybe I should get a dog.”

Josh never means to cry but he always ends up doing it. It takes about twenty minutes for him to be able to breathe again, then he says goodbye and walks the three blocks to his car.

He usually visits once a week, sometimes one of his sisters comes with him. If it’s Abigail, they go get ice cream after. If it’s Ashley, which it usually is, they get coffee and don’t talk about it.

It’s running on month six when Josh sees her. He’s holding a beautiful bunch of chrysanthemums by his side, when he notices that there’s someone in the window holding the curtain aside. They make eye contact, and Josh feels very guilty. She doesn’t look angry, although there’s a noticeable furrow between her eyebrows. She’s wearing a cotton bathrobe and holding a mug of coffee. Josh could use some coffee.

He doesn’t know what to do, so he just smiles and holds up the flowers. Then turns on his heels and walks as quickly as he can.

“It’s not an old lady, mum, it’s a girl. She saw me today, caught me red handed.” Josh mumbles, laughing a bit to himself as he clears away some old flowers and places the new ones. “She didn’t do anything though, so I think I’m okay.” His voice cracks as he says it, and then, as usual, starts crying.

It takes two more times for the rightful owner of the flowers to confront Josh about his thievery.

Josh’s on his knees, picking some cute purple flowers when he hears her voice.

“Um, hello?” Josh nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Oh shit.” Josh says, looking up and feeling his heart sink. “Right. I’m sorry I just–your flowers are very nice.”

She smiles and crosses her hands over her chest. “Thank you.”

Josh’s still kneeling, hands shaking where they’re holding stems. She has long, dark hair and a sort of crooked smile on her face. Neither of them are saying anything. She’s wearing an old shirt with a hole near the hem. Josh’s hands are sweating.

“You know, if you’re going to steal my flowers to take to your girl, I think I’m going to have to come with you to make sure she’s beautiful enough to warrant theft.” She says, oddly calm and good natured.

Josh doesn’t know what to say. He just nods, trying to ease the panic rising in his chest.

“Add a few roses.” She orders, and Josh nods, picking a few and standing up, finally. “I’m Y/N, by the way.“ She says, extending a hand.

Josh smiles and shakes it. “Josh.” She smiles at him one more time and then they start to walk.

She pesters him with questions about his imaginary girlfriend, and Josh tries to answer them in the vaguest way possible, all the while trying to figure out how the hell he’s going to explain this when they get to the cemetery.

“Did she like the daisies you picked last time? I always thought those were more of a flower you give your mum, but I guess they’re nice.” she babbles, and Josh almost chokes.

“Yeah, um. Yeah.” he says, his heart racing in his chest. The small side entrance is only a few meters away, and she still has no idea. Josh doesn’t say anything as he walks through the gate, holding it open for her, who immediately stops talking as well.

The silence feels like a heavy blanket, and she just follows Josh as he makes the walk now committed to memory. Josh almost forgets she’s there, dropping to the probably permanently grass stained knees of his jeans and managing a smile. “Hi mum.” He places the flowers around the base of the stone, like he always does. Josh jolts when he feels a hand on his thigh, near his knee. He follows the arm up and meets her green eyes. Josh hadn’t noticed her kneel, too.

“Josh…” she whispers, obviously surprised. Josh doesn’t blame her.

“Don’t.” he says quietly, sniffling and looking away from him. “I brought someone with me. She’s the one I’ve been stealing all the flowers from.” Josh says, smiling a bit and he hears Y/N mumble a soft hello. “She hasn’t called the cops on me yet, which I guess is good.”

He takes a shaky breath before getting choked up. He puts his face in his hands and this was always just a part of his agenda, but the arm around his shoulders is new.

She starts talking.

“The first time I was sitting in my kitchen and I was like oh god do not pick the hibiscuses, they’ve got bees. But he didn’t, he chose some tulips instead.“ she laughs a little, and Josh almost starts crying again. “Between us, I hope he never stops.” she whispers, and Josh knows he wasn’t meant to hear it. There’s a lot he wasn’t meant to do.

Josh sniffles loudly and sits up to wipe his eyes. Her arm is still around his shoulders. “I’m sorry.” he says out of habit, as he’s been doing every time anyone’s seen him cry since October. She just shakes her head and uses a thumb to wipe a stray tear.

“Don’t apologize.” She says, and puts her hand back on her own lap. Josh wants to tell her to put it back. “I’ll um, give you some privacy.” She says, standing up and brushing her jeans off. “And, Josh, you’re welcome to my flowers anytime.” She says, giving him a bright smile before walking away.

Josh doesn’t watch her walk away. He turns back to the gravestone and sighs. “She’s kinda nice isn’t she mum?”

Josh can almost hear his mum yelling at him. Don’t be stupid, dear, go after her.

He kisses his hand and presses it agains the warming stone. “I love you.” He gets up, not bothering to dust off his knees and all but sprints back out to the sidewalk. Josh jogs down the road and turns the corner, smiling when he sees her walking peacefully down the street.

“Hey!” Josh yells, picking up to a run. She turns, and stops walking, looking surprised that Josh is running after her.  

“Let me, um, buy you lunch.” he says breathlessly.  “Figure I owe you one, since I’ve been stealing your flowers for months.“

She smiles and nods.  “Yeah, I guess that’a fair payback.”

They talk as they walk to her pick of café, and Josh feels lighter than he has in months.

They walk back to Y/N’s, and she makes Josh promise to close his eyes as she grabs the spare key. It’s painfully adorable.

“Wanna, um come in?” she asks, looking down at her feet as she says it. Josh’s cheeks go hot at that, being suddenly floored by how pretty she really is.

“I-” Josh starts, before checking his watch,. “Really need to be heading home.” He tries not to let the way her face falls hurt his feelings too bad. “I have work in like, an hour, so.” he explains, and she nods.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. Maybe another time.” she says, eyes wide and hopeful.

Josh grins. "Definitely. I’ll call you–or you’ll see me in your garden, either one.” He throws in a wink and leans in to peck her cheek before turning and walking down the street to his car.  At the corner he turns and finds Y/N still standing in her doorway.

It was not a good day. Josh has been avoiding sleep because every time he closes his eyes at night,  he can’t stop picturing the time he showed his mum how he could climb the tree in the backyard. He fell on the second branch and skinned his shin and elbow. She patched him up and bought him ice cream, and then they watched movies until Josh fell asleep against her on the couch.

He sighs and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. He’d stopped crying about an hour ago, now he’s just staring at his ceiling with his eyes burning. It’s four thirty. Sleep is definitely out of the picture, so Josh grabs his keys and does the only thing he can think of.

He picks seven roses on his way, hops the fence, and finds he can still cry, forehead pressed against cold stone.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there for, but when he opens his eyes, the sky is more grey than black. “Fuck.” He curses and rubs at his stinging eyes. “Sorry for swearing,” He whispers, laughing a bit. “I’ll be back soon, I love you.”

He stands.  It’s about to be five in the morning, and Josh really can’t see himself driving all the way back home. He doesn’t quite know what to do as he walks back, but then he sees the garden, and finds himself knocking on the door.

It takes a few, but Y/N does open the door, hair a mess, grey sweats hanging low on her hips. “Josh,” She says, surprised. “What are you doing here babe?” she asks softly.

“Couldn’t sleep. Needed some flowers.” he mumbles, blinking a few times to try and get rid of the blurriness creeping across his eyes. “Can I come in?”

“Yes, of course.” she says without missing a beat, and Josh sighs, relieved. He toes off his sneakers at the door and lets Y/N lead him through the house.  He can tell that Y/N wants to ask, but doesn’t.

In fact, she doesn’t say anything, and Josh finds that oddly comforting, she just sits next to Josh on the couch and keeps her hands curled in her lap.  

“I took some roses again this morning,” Josh admits.

“What color?” is all she responds with.

“The white.”

“That’s the best kind,” she assures him. You can keep helping yourself to those.” she says, leaning over and poking into Josh’s side. “Think of it as my gift to your mum, too.”

That makes Josh tear up a bit.

“I should go,” he says, not wanting to start crying in front of her for a second time.  

“Oh,” she says, sounding almost disappointed.  “Right— okay.”

Josh stands up, his chest feeling tight and his thoughts racing.  But in the midst of the chaos, he hears her voice.  Clear as day; the reason behind his messy, illogical mind. Don’t be stupid, dear, go after her.

Josh turns suddenly then, and takes a step closer to Y/N, so he can hold her hands in his own. “Can I take you to breakfast right now?”

She beams at him, dimples drilled into her cheeks as she nods in agreement. She hurriedly finds shoes and a jacket, stopping at the door to lock the door before following Josh out. They walk to his car hand in hand, and it all feels so right.

They get pancakes, and Josh kisses the whip cream off her lips. People give them looks as they laugh obnoxiously and fond over one another. Josh doesn’t care.

He wakes up the next morning in a bed that isn’t his own and to the smell of bacon. He smiles to himself. “Are you ever going to let me make you breakfast?” he asks, laughing a little when he sees Y/N standing in front of the stove.

“Maybe, if you ever wake up before me.” she says, looking over her shoulder and smiling at Josh.

They sit down to eat breakfast on Y/N‘s couch, blanket pulled over both of them, and it’s home.

ASOF: Redeye.

A/N; This is my new series! ASOF means a series of firsts. I really hope you like it, don’t worry I won’t leave you hanging for too long. ;) <3

Pairing: ScottMccallxOC

Author: thelittlestkitsune

Warnings: NSFW.

Word count: 6,862

Listen to this.

Originally posted by sensuous

Keep reading

◠ the raindrop stop // nsfw ◡

Originally posted by seungcheofine

✎ a/n: brb i’m throwing myself into the ocean and burning all my belongings. also anon i changed it to motel instead of hotel bc it fit the scenario better. hope u don’t mind<3 @dimplecoups have fun suffering!!

»word count: 1,658

» includes: motel smut + abandoned road trip + my death

So far, the night had not been progressing well for you and Seungcheol, at all. It began with ideas surrounding a road trip. Nothing more than a simple drive along the beach side, the windows scrolled down and the fresh scents of sea salt breezing by your face. Gulls usually warbled from the foamy shoreline, picking at the light pink shells spotting abstractly up the bank. You thought it was an idea as good as any other, so you wrapped a few sandwiches up in parchment and set them inside your bag.

The drive did not commence cheerfully. Raindrops, large and cold and unyielding were beating against the car’s glass by the end of your first Indila CD. Not even the persistent swing of wipers across the windshield made the road easier to see. There was nothing apart from a silver sheet swathing the glass, forcing Seungcheol to pull over into a parking lot. At least one fortunate thing transpired, the parking lot belonged to a motel.

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anonymous asked:

hi so i've been thinking about this a lot lately so i just have to ask how yurios clothing style is in the mafia au? i really love the au btw like thanku

I gotta run to work so have a VERY quick collage I just threw together of my inspo board for him in the AU. Basically, a lot of leather or velvet or tight pants in general, boots, fur jackets or tough bomber jackets, bdsm-y things out in public, forgetting to wear his shirt a lot, gauzy sheer stuff, $$$$$$

unpictured cos I couldn’t find images but he’ll also rock like lingerie inspired tops and stuff under his tough leather or bomber jackets and flip off everyone who questions it


Member: Jisoo/Joshua
Genre: Smut
Word count: 3,937 of Father forgive me

All it took was a simple snap. Like a string pulled taut, everything was fragile, fragile, fragile. You hated it. Every glance, every smile, every word made you breathless. You wanted it. The way he moved gracefully or how the droplets of sweat sticking to his brow caused shivers to run up and down your spine. You needed it.

And by God, you were going to get it, even if it were to be the very last thing you did.

Unfortunately, Jisoo was oblivious. He was a kind person, that’s for sure, but he was just so… blind. Honestly, you really just wanted to bash your head against a wall at times. You knew that he didn’t pick up on many things, but maybe some of the fault also rested on you as well. As badly as you wanted to show him, you knew you couldn’t, especially with him surrounded by the other members. Maybe they were the problem.

Keep reading

the posh boy solution

hi hello welcome to the second part of this little piece

part one: the posh boy problem

also available on: AO3


Sometimes John calls Sherlock little secret names in his head. Greets him with hey, handsome in the morning, calls him genius when he’s being too clever, calls him pretty man, silly git, sweetheart. But sometimes he just needs to call him,

“You fucking idiot!”

John throws his jacket at the back of his chair in obvious distress. It falls off immediately. He is clearly angry with him, Sherlock has observed the ragged breath and flaring nostrils long ago and drawn his conclusions. He wonders what exactly he’s done wrong to upset him so much. The fact that he (technically not quite) stole a boat or that he managed to fall into the Thames? He himself is just upset about having been forced to sacrifice his woollen coat in order to save himself from drowning. Of course, he owns lots of coats. You never know when an accidence like this one might occur.

While Sherlock swam to the shore, John made sure the jewellery thieves, due to which that boat chase had originally been initiated, did not shoot at Sherlock, and in the process of that received a pretty hard blow to the head. A bump is already growing just next to the vein that always pulsates visibly when John is angry.

“You should cool that,” Sherlock suggests.

“Shut up! I will cool that when I feel like cooling it, I’m a bloody doctor!”

Sherlock swallows. It’s worse than he thought. He cannot deny that he likes John when he is on the right side of angry, but this is probably the wrong side and he is also being yelled at.

“A boat chase, Sherlock?!”

“In my defence-” Sherlock starts, but is interrupted by John raising a finger, ordering him to shut the hell up.

“Take your clothes off.”

Sherlock stares. Sherlock blinks. His mind stays blank for a worryingly long amount of time. Then he remembers. He’s wet. Soaked, in fact, completely down to his bones, and freezing too. It’s taken him a little long to catch up because these words, words spoken in the tone of an army captain, are something he’s last heard two days ago, half asleep and desperate in his own bedroom. Another one of those nights in which his imagination filled in for the needs that reality doesn’t meet.

John is waiting in this charged air of silence, maybe having realised what he just said, maybe not. Sherlock tips his chin up and obeys.

“I’m not so posh anymore now, am I?” he mutters under his breath.

John presses his lips together at this, and Sherlock worries briefly that the vein at his temple might just burst. His eyes withhold a certain kind of spark, like a candle flickering, like the glare of a predator. All of a sudden, Sherlock feels stripped completely naked by those eyes only. Then he comes to realise … He’s stripping down. The ruined jacket abandoned next to his shoes and socks, his shirt hanging open to expose his chest and stomach, and his trousers… he’s in the process of shoving them down his thighs. The process of stripping down to his underwear for John Watson. But he feels naked.

John is walking towards him. Slowly, like he means to break him. He might.

His eyes are boring into Sherlock’s own and electrify the space between them, the air they breathe. Sherlock swallows, once more, but his throat is dry and he is thirsty. He is cold, goosebumps all over his body from the river water and those ocean eyes, but his skin is hot with anticipation.

John steps right into his space. Sherlock can smell him. It does things to him, awful things to his heightened senses. It clouds them, but at the same time he is overly aware of naked skin and of John wearing way too many clothes.

“Yeah,” John whispers roughly, so rough and so low he could hurt himself on that sandpaper voice. “You’re still a fucking posh boy.”

John’s eyes drop, and his breath is ragged, but Sherlock suspects this time it’s for entirely different reasons than anger. He doesn’t know who gives in first, and frankly, he  doesn’t give one fuck about it because the next thing he knows is that John’s lips are on his and it feels like he’s dying and being reborn in one single breath.

They long for each other, and their lips meet so hard it might leave bruises. John is all-consuming, is groaning and opening his mouth by opening his own first. Sherlock’s knees buckle at the sensation that is John’s tongue running over his bottom lip. If this is what it’s like to kiss John Watson, he should be put in chains because it’s dangerous. He walks him backwards, shoves him into the wall next to the kitchen. Sherlock’s trousers have dropped down to his ankles and he almost falls over them, held upright by the hard surface of the wall where he bumps his head into.

Dizzy and with a sharp pain buzzing through the back of his head, he feels weightless when John lifts one of his legs, slowly running his hand over the underside of his thigh, fingers through thin hairs and over hard muscle, and Sherlock’s natural reaction is to wrap his leg around John’s middle and hold on tight, so tight. His trousers are hanging from the end of his foot like one last resort before they fall off and to the floor. The pain wears off, and suddenly Sherlock thinks he can feel everything.

The smooth fabric of John’s shirt and the rough one of his jeans that presses against the lower part of his body. Against his thighs and hipbones and the growing bulge in his pants. John’s one hand is rubbing back and forth over his inner thigh and the soft spot where it dissolves into firm buttocks. A soft spot that draws a quite whine out of the back of his throat. He places his other hand on his face to hold him. Lifting his jaw ever so slightly, his thumb is stroking over one sharp cheekbone, and he kisses him again.

Sherlock still feels like he is dying, but it’s different than it was before. John deepens the kiss, and he feels utterly devoured. He’s never wanted anything more, he thinks. Wrapped up in all of him. It fuels his addictive personality in many dangerous ways, but he cannot think, can only indulge in this dance of drawing back only to lean back in again, tongues against each other in one hot wet mess.

All the blood is running south, and as he wraps his arms around John’s neck, he isn’t quite sure how to feel, much less what he is doing.

John breaks the kiss with a sigh. A long, dreamy sigh Sherlock has trouble interpreting correctly. Is it regret? Relief? Pity? But as he closes his eyes in silence, he brings their foreheads together and leans against him. They stay like this for what seems like minutes over minutes, and it should be uncomfortable, should feel ridiculous - with one of them undressed and the two of them panting against each other - but it doesn’t. They breathe together in unison, and when John draws back to look at him, his eyes don’t show anger, aren’t predatory. They are warm, they are gentle.

“You have no idea how long…” he begins, but doesn’t quite know where he was going with it, or if he wants this sentence to end.

Sherlock’s response gets stuck in his throat and its remains come out in a sob. “Yes,” he manages.

“And all this time,” John continues, “So much time…”

“It’s okay,” Sherlock assures him. His voice is quiet, as if he was afraid of breaking emotions fragile and clear as glass. And when they aren’t clear as glass, they are a thick fog of all the things left unsaid. It’s very hard to see through it, but what he sees is sharp enough. “We’re here now.”

John leans back in. He takes his time now, is gentle in his touches and caresses his cheeks. They feel wet, somehow, but Sherlock doesn’t understand why. It’s like the tears are falling naturally.

“Bedroom,” John whispers.

How many times has he imagined John Watson in his bed before this? He hasn’t kept track, but he knows that this time couldn’t be further from his imagination. Because it is reality. And it feels so, so much better than anything else in the world.

John doesn’t hold anything back with him. He kisses him in every spot, he bites his lip and neck and, oh god, the sensitive skin up, up his thighs. He whispers names into all of those spots, lets them sink into his flesh and travel to his chest where they can burn and glow and melt his insecurities with flickers of bliss.

He calls him love when he breaks a kiss, calls him honey as he buries his face in the crook of his neck, calls him genius when Sherlock touches him in the most intimate of places. He tells him he is gorgeous, tells him I need you and I want you. It’s the hottest thing in Sherlock’s ears, goes straight between his legs. He asks him, Is this okay?, asks almost desperately how, how can I have you?

He calls him you brilliant man when he groans, you pretty, pretty boy. But as he thrusts, harder, yes harder, sinks his teeth into his flesh and moans, as his movements became frantic and they are so close and wrapped in each other with tangled limbs and desperation, and yes, as he comes, the one thing on his lips is Sherlock. Only Sherlock. As beautiful as he has ever heard his own name sound. He’s had no idea his name could sound like this, and he’s not sure how anything else could ever come close to being this good.

They lie together, cuddling and blissed out and fucking happy for the first time in what seems to have taken ages. Sherlock feels a smile stretching across his face. John’s thumb caresses long laugh lines as he is bent over him. But he isn’t smiling back. He looks like something worries him.

“Don’t ever risk your own life like that again,” he warns him, but warns him softly.

Sherlock thinks about it in the most rational way he can. He is very serious when he says, “If risking my life leads to this right here, to you and me, I might just consider it.”

John goes ahead and bites him. Just below his jawline, as he has very recently learned he likes a lot.

Sherlock gasps and John lets go.

“Oh no,” he whispers. “This wasn’t a reward, Sherlock. It was… long overdue. I’m still mad at you.”

Sherlock looks away in honest concern and fear. “Are you really?”

John sighs. “No.”

They cuddle in silence for a long while. Sherlock is very close to falling asleep. He is much closer to losing himself to whatever he feels for John Watson. He knows it is love. He’s not sure how much more it is, but it might just kill him one day. That might just be fine with him.

“You’re my posh boy now,” John murmurs right before he feels himself drift away.

He smiles, honestly. Wholeheartedly.

“I’ve never been anything else, John.”



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Switching Up A Gear - Chapter 1

Summary: Megan is fiery Omega and the Manager for Team Stark, one of the most successful NASCAR teams on the circuit. Her boss Tony recruits a new driver to work alongside their current one Steve Rogers, she soon has to cope with two Alpha males butting heads, and when she finally meets the new driver she’s in for a surprise.
Pairing: OC Megan x Bucky Barnes
Triggers/Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, none really for this chapter.
A/N: This is a Avengers/NASCAR AU, and one that will also include the Alpha/Beta/Omega verse, however i have decided to make sure i explain things for people not used to this genre within the story, so if you don’t know, or haven’t read A/B/O before i can assure you that this story will make sense!


Switching Up A Gear – Chapter 1

Megan closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, the scent of gasoline and motor oil filling her senses and calming her nerves. Even with the ear plugs in, the constant roar of engines reverberated through her body and pushed at her mind. Racing was in her soul. She’d grown up on the circuit and had spent her working life so far doing everything from being a PR girl in spandex booty shorts to what she was doing now; managing Team Stark.

Her boss Tony Stark was the owner and CEO of Stark Industries, dabbling in everything from arms and weaponry to alternative energy sources. He was also a shameless flirt and had at least one scandal a year that Megan would have to work tirelessly with their PR whizz Wanda to quell in the press and work with their legal team for the appropriate out of court settlement.

Squinting into the hot North Carolina sunshine Megan felt the first trickle of perspiration run down her back, her red and gold uniform blouse sticking to her skin, her tight pencil skirt reminding her that she needed to switch to the jersey fabric when she was back on home ground, the local humidity clinging to her the moment she’d stepped outside. Adjusting her sunglasses she strode around the pits, her high heels expertly dodging the patches of spilt oil as she headed to the bay they were working out of.

Stepping into the relative darkness of the low roofed building, she hooked her sunglasses into the front of her blouse, blinking a few times as her pupils adjusted to the low light and to wet her contact lenses after the heat of the racetrack, plucking her earplugs out as she ventured further into the building.

“Hey Beautiful, looking hot”

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Yuri!!! On Ice: Guang Hong Ji is too sexy for his Free Skate shirt

There are lots of suits in Yuri on Ice.

Suits without jackets

Suits with jackets

Short-sleeved suits

Sparkly Suits

Power suits

What do all these guys and their suits have in common? 

They’re all wearing shirts.

Do you know who DOESN’T wear a shirt under his suit jacket?

Itty baby Ji Guang Hong is too sexy for his shirt

source: I paused and took screenshots of the dub so there wouldn’t be subtitles.


“Move.” You hear someone mumble behind you in an low and irritated voice.

You turn around startled by their rudeness. He was looking right at you his face  clearly annoyed. He made your nervous right away. He was good-looking, the type of good-looking guy you only see in movies or models. His features were sharp and perfect. His hair was a nice shade of brown, it wasn’t that dark or that light and you liked the way it slightly covered his eyebrows. He had on a grey cardigan and white button up underneath, with some black slacks clearly showing he had a good sense of fashion. A backpack hung lazily off his left shoulder showing he was a student just like you.

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I’m all here for canon era Jamilton.

Thomas and Alexander flirting back and forth in a carriage ride to a different state

Playful teasing before a conference in the conference room

Old fashion attire. Just the whole puffy shirts and collars and long jackets and waist coats and them making out in those clothes or Thomas being careful not to rip off Alexanders new clothes that probably took like a week to make (depends)

Love letters sent across town instead of text messages

Study rooms with the thick velvet chairs and hard wooden desks and ink and quills and them kissing in the chairs or fucking on the desk


The whole way they spoke back then but just with Jamilton. The whole fake politeness that turns to playful banter to full on flirting

Thomas taking care of Alexander when he goes through PTSD

Alexander and Thomas sending Lafayette letters about the other and how much they “hate” them but then consoling about liking them in the next sentence and slowly getting letters with a progression of them falling in love

Hercules and Alexander gossiping while Hercules makes Alexander a new pair of pants that aren’t worth the price Alex is paying

Thomas breaking out of his gentlemen like air to freak out to James. Asking him advice on getting Alex to like him. Does this letter need more explanation on why I love his hair??

James just being The Friend™ that puts up with the bullshit but only because the final result is worth it

John making the ¾ day trip to New York just to give Thomas The Talk™

The Schuyler Sisters being Hamiltons like heart family and consulting with him about his attractions over cookies and tea. They put up with it because it’s a good distraction from work and he’s eating.

Angelica finally gets to give Thomas a piece of her mind about the deceleration and Thomas can’t be rude because she’s Alexander’s best friend.



Ok so I’m obsessed with their clothes and mannerisms and just the idea of Hamilton and Jefferson both calling each other good sir and AND bowing and shit and the feel of a good suit under fingers and unbuttoned a shirt that has like rounded pearls instead of buttons and long jackets and SUSPENDERS

George being very protective of Alex during debates and meetings especially from Thomas but that’s hIS BOY YOU CAN NOT TOUCH HIM AND IF I DONT LIKE WHAT COMES OUT OF YOUR MOUTH ABOUT HIM YOU WILL HAVE NOTHING TO DO WITH HIM EVER AGAIN

Ink stain smudges and trying to get them off and keeping the handkerchief they used


Lots of evening walks and the whole old PDA.

So this got a little long; whoops. I just really like the idea of Thomas and Alexander getting together in the canon era.

You Better

The taxi pulled to a stop in front of what looked to be like an apartment complex. I smiled and paid him 30 bucks and he nodded his head as he departed. This is it. This. Is. It. I sighed and walked towards the door. My phone dinged.

Take the elevator to the 4th floor. I’ll be waiting.

I followed the instructions and felt a knot well up inside. The elevator stopped and there he stood. His foot propped up against the wall, his hands in his pockets. Man was he breath taking.

“Hey Love.” his accent greeted me. Butterflies fluttered inside my chest and I smiled.

“Hi Tom.” I said, as I was welcomed into his arms. I took in his scent and looked up at him.

“I’ve missed you.” he whispered.

“So have I.” I whispered back. He smiled and placed a kiss on my lips. He took my hand and led me down the corridor towards his room. As soon as we got inside, he locked the door behind him and kissed me.

“We need more us time.” he said in-between kisses, his hands finding my hair. I wrapped my arms around his neck and nodded.

“You’re always gone.” I said, breaking the kiss to look at him.

“I find it rather sexy.” he smirked.

“Now do you.” I said, raising an eyebrow. His eyebrows furrowed at my cocked eyebrow. I started to leave small kisses on his neck, just enough to tease him. His hands gripped my hips and pulled me closer to him. He started to unzip my jacket and I did the same to him.

Soon we were in our undergarments, enjoying each other. He walked us over to the couch where we plopped down, causing us to laugh. He left trails of kisses from my neck down to my shoulders then down to my chest. He came back up to meet my eyes and we just stared at each other.

I touched his face with my hand and he roamed my side up to my shoulders then back down with his hand. He went for my neck, leaving small and soft kisses here and there. I bit my lip and brought his hand up to my chest where he gave a small squeeze. He started to bite and suck the crook of my neck making a moan escape from my lips. I felt him smile and I pushed him so he was sitting up.

I straddled his hips and began kissing his neck. His hands roamed my body and I felt him harden as I began to bite his sweet spot. His head went back and a small moan escaped, making me excited. I began to move my hips around which made his Adam’s apple bob. He looked me in the eye and I saw that his pupils were dilated.

“You’re being such a tease.” he said, his voice stern.

“Well someone had to be.” I said giving him a kiss and softly biting his lower lip.

“Okay. That’s it.” he said placing me onto my back and roaming my body. He played with my panties, teasing me with the hem of them. He crawled on top of me for a kiss, letting his lips hover over mine, initiating the game we invented. Whoever kisses first loses. I smirked and my hand found its way towards his boxers, making sure to brush up against his member. His breath hitched and I smiled.

“No fair.” he said.

“What’s not? This?” I said, stroking his member through tight boxers.

“Yes you cheater.”

“It’s not cheating if you let me.“I said, bringing my lips closer to his. His lips crashed onto mine and as soon as I went to take off his boxers, the door knob rattled. We stopped kissing and froze, both looking at the door. There stood Harrison, with a doughnut in his mouth until it fell when he saw us.

“Well… I didn’t know we were expecting anyone.” Harrison said.

“Neither did we.” I said as Tom handed me my jacket.

“Ah.. I see. Well, if you would excuse me, I’m going to go rinse my eyes out.” Harrison joked.

“Soap is under the sink mate.” Tom said, buttoning his pants.

“Much appreciated.” Harrison said, covering his eyes. I rolled my eyes and slipped my shirt on.

“We still have tonight.” Tom whispered in my ear.

“I don’t think so.” I teased, grabbing my jeans. He took ahold of my hand and spun me towards him.

“You better.” he said, squeezing my arse. I mocked being shocked and slapped his shoulder playfully.

“You guys are gross.” Harrison shouted from the bathroom. Tom and I smiled at one another.

Everyone Gets Some Love

Finally put together the lace piece of my continuation of the Everyone Needs Some Love series by @justwritingscibbles.

Alternate Endings from here

And now the Alternate Ending, Everyone Gets Some Love.

Originally posted by lum1natrix

You hung up instantly.
“Did you find it?” Mark called.
“No,” you replied, “I’m going to go look in the car, just in case.” You walked outside to your car, locking yourself in for privacy before you called Mark’s phone again. It rang only once before being answered, but only silence waited on the other side.
“Dark, are you there?” you whispered. He chuckled.
“So you did miss me.” You hesitated, not entirely certain why you’d called.
“Listen,” you said at last, “there’s a park three blocks from here, we’ve been there before. I’m going to be there in twenty minutes.” You took a deep breath. “Will you?” He chuckled again.
“We’ll see.”

Keep reading

Another Time to Love: Part 2

Author: @sincerelystiles
Pairing: Dylan x Reader
Word Count: 3, 718

Warnings: foul language, no sin :( 

A/N: big thankyou to my baby @dumbass-stilinski for helping me out with this, and i promise you guys sin IN THE NEXT PART! 

Originally posted by hothothotgg

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Bowling date

Characters: Jeongguk & You 

Genre: fluff fluff fluff (i was supposed to write something else but watching his vlive distracted me and apparently i haven’t written fluff with him before)

Words: 2422

Summary: Jungkook is trying to be cool but fails (because he’s too cute for his own good) featuring you trying to impress him with you non-existing bowling skills.

Originally posted by jjks

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Flaws (Dean)

Anonymous asked: How about a dean series where both the reader and him are idols but she is different like she is thick and maybe a little on the darker side since koreans love pale skin, then they both face adversity (self-hate, perseverance) maybe 

A/N: We all have flaws, but they stand out to us way more than to anyone else, and we are much harder on ourselves than any decent person would ever be to us. We have to learn how to silence the voices that tell us we aren’t pretty or handsome enough. We are enough. You know when you like someone, whether romantically or platonically and they keep looking better and better to you? That’s how the people that love you feel about you too. No matter how you look, in the eyes of those who love you, you are beautiful. 

P.S. Thank you to the person who sent in this request and I hope you don’t mind me writing it as a oneshot instead of a series. It was a great request!! <3 <3 

Originally posted by benihime99

    You closed and locked the bathroom door, stripping off the tight top and shorts. You were the only one in your group that had been told to wear high-waisted shorts for today’s performance and you knew why. You also knew that your several stretch marks were probably the reason you’d all had to wear tights. You tensed your abs and poked your stomach, cringing at how your finger sunk slightly before hitting muscle. The other girls in your group weren’t like that… No wonder your manager was always pressuring you to eat less and work out more.

    Next was your thighs. You sat down on the edge of the toilet and tensed them, feeling the softness inside, noticing how your muscles didn’t stand out as much as they should have, at least in comparison to some of the other girls. You had so much work to do. And that was only the things you could fix. Your manager had straight-up told you he was especially hard on you because your skin was darker and he wanted to do what he could to “make up for that.” You kept questioning why you had chosen this lifestyle.

    You put your clothes back on, grateful not to have to look at your insecurities anymore, and left to join the rest of your group at the table, where they were eating. “Want some ramen?” Yumi, the youngest of your group, asked. “There’s another packet somewhere.”

    “Nah, I’m good- I already ate,” you lied. You’d been about to sit down but now you didn’t want to eat and you left, saying, “Don’t over-eat!” and disappeared into the room you shared with two other members. Great, now you weren’t only hard on yourself, you were just as hard on them.

    You climbed up to your bunk and collapsed, sliding your phone out of your pocket and pressing your boyfriend’s name. Your relationship with him was secret from the public, but it wasn’t hard for the two of you to meet up since you were both under the same company. “Hey babe,” Hyuk said as he picked up.

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Hot Tub and Scotch

Pairing: Arthur Ketch x Reader

Words: 770

Warnings: Alcohol, drunk reader, drunk ketch, gentle smut

Note: Requested by @faith-in-dean for my Fic Prompt Game! (Ketch x Reader, hot tub, drinks) I’m still accepting prompts for the game if you’d like to send some in! Happy Reading!

Deciding to take the weekend off, you’d bought a couple bottles in a variety of alcohol and brought them back to the bunker. With two giant brown paper bags in your arms, you sauntered through the library and set them on the table.

“(Y/N)! Did you know there is a freakin’ hot tub back here?” Dean’s excited howl came from down the hall. He finally was able to unlock a door to a room that was warded up since you all discovered the bunker.

“Fuck,” you stated under your breath, “I forgot the scotch!” Just then a loud knock came from the entrance door. “Damn it, Sam. Did you forget your keys?”

You opened the door haphazardly, already assuming it would be Sam. To your surprise, the arrogant British Men of Letters guy that aggravated you endlessly stood at the door with his hands behind his back.

“Hello, love.” He smirked and leaned against the door frame. Fuck. You hated that his shirt and jacket were so tight on him. He may have been a dick, but damn he had a good body.

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Summary: Reader has been in an abusive relationship with Daryl in the past and they have been separated until they meet again in Alexandria


Originally posted by anarchygrimes

You felt your throat tighten and your heart speed up when you heard the front door open. It was 5 in the morning and the slamming of the door woke you up. Daryl was home and you knew he was drunk by the way you heard things clattering downstairs as he bumped into the furniture. You shut your eyes, pretending to be asleep so he wouldn’t bother you. Everything went quiet for a second and you thought he might have passed out on the floor until you heard the stairs creaking. The bedroom door opened and he walked in.

“(Y/n)” he mumbled, his voice deep and tired from the drink. You didn’t reply which made him get closer to you on the bed.

“Wake up baby” his hands roamed under your shirt and you slowly opened your eyes, trying your best to make it look like you had just awoken.

“Hey” you smiled, caressing his cheek.

“You miss me?” he asked, roughly starting to take your shirt off, his forwardness scaring you.

“Daryl, not tonight” you said as he started to take his jacket and shirt off.

“You say that every night (y/n). I haven’t felt you in so long” he growled, unbuckling his belt. There was a reason you didn’t like having sex with him anymore. It wasn’t passionate or romantic, it was just purely him fucking you until he was pleasured. He never made you feel special in bed, it was like all the love was gone.

His jeans were off and the only thing stopping him from thrusting into you was his boxers. Daryl brought his lips down to your neck and harshly bit down making you whimper in pain, but Daryl mistook it for a pleasurable moan.

“You like that huh? You dirty slut” he moaned into your neck and he pulled his boxers down. He gave you no warning as he shoved his full length into you, you wanted to shout out but you knew he wouldn’t like that. You bit your tongue as Daryl fucked you at a fast pace. No words were exchanged between you, only Daryl’s grunts as he pounded into you, his face in the crook of your neck. You felt no pleasure at all at this time. You were feeling mixed emotions. Your mind was happy to know that Daryl was safe and home, and tonight he was in a good mood, but you were scared that after this he would get violent. He usually did. As Daryl continued to thrust, you kept your eyes on the wall, there was nowhere else to look unless you closed your eyes.

Daryl had finally finished off inside you and he pulled out, collapsing on the bed next to you. You continued to look up at the wall and you saw him look at you out of the corner of your eyes. He let out a breath and brought himself up on his elbows.

“You pissed off again?” he asked.

“No” you said, trying to keep your voice steady as you sat up and wiped a tear away. You swung your legs off the bed but Daryl grabbed your arm, his fingers unintentionally digging into your soft skin.

“Where’re you going?”

“I was just gonna get a drink”

He let go of your arm but continued to speak. “bring me up a beer” he said, laying back down in bed and lighting up a cigarette.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea” you said, now standing near the door.

“I don’t care what you think”

You nodded and opened the door. “Oh and (y/n)?”

You looked back at him and he was staring at you. “Be a good girl and make me a sandwich”

You said nothing as you turned and went downstairs to get what he wanted. Once you were done you hurriedly returned to the room, not wanting to keep him waiting too long. You shut the door behind you and turned to give Daryl the beer and sandwich but he was already fast asleep, the sound of heavy breathing filling up the room. You stared at him for a moment, tears ready to fall down your face. You wondered how the relationship ended up like this. You two were so in love in the beginning, always going out to clubs and spending time together. And most importantly the sex was fun and often. You don’t know what happened, maybe the alcohol and drugs had finally taken their toll on him. You placed the plate and bottle down on his bedside table and you climbed into bed, trying to keep your body as far away from his as possible, too scared that you would accidentally wake him in the night. You let your head hit the pillow and you soon drifted back to sleep, part of your praying that you wouldn’t wake up in the morning.

Word around Alexandria was that Aaron had brought a new group in. You didn’t know who they were, you only knew because Spencer told you and Heath over the walkie.

“Get back now, Deanna wants everyone here”

You and Heath looked at each other before stuffing your bags with the rest of the cans and medicines that sat on the shelves. You had gone out on a run for a couple of days and you were going to head back tomorrow. It would take maybe a day or two to get back, you had travelled out far to ensure you got as many supplies as possible.

You and Heath took turns at driving. You drove during the day and he drove at night. It was a smooth journey, you hadn’t encountered any trouble except for a few innocent walkers roaming around.

You had been on the road for about two days when you finally saw the familiar gates surrounding Alexandria. You pulled up to the gates and nudged Heath awake with your elbow. “We’re here” you said as he squinted his eyes from the sun.

He groggily jumped out of the car and walked towards the gates. You rolled down your window and hung your arm out of it.

“Hey Spencer, open up man” Heath said.

The first part of the gate opened an inch, just enough to see an unfamiliar face. “I’m sorry but I cannot do that”

“Who the hell are you?” Heath replied

“I am Eugene and I can’t let you in as I do not know you and you may be here to kill us”

“If you make me wait any longer I might just have to do that” You heard Heath say and you let out a laugh.

You saw the man called Eugene hesitate before opening up the gate. Heath walked in and you drove by the two of them and into the community. You parked up and jumped out of the car.

“Hey I’m (y/n)” you said, nodding your head at Eugene.

“Hello (y/n), I’m Eu-”

“Yeah, you’re Eugene, I heard you before”

“So, are you part of that new group that Aaron brought in?” Heath asked.

Eugene was about to reply when Deanna walked over. “(Y/n)! Heath! You’re back”

You smiled at her as she greeted you. “I see you’ve met Eugene! How was the trip?”

“We got a lot of shit” you said, pointing to the bags in the car.

“Excellent! Why don’t you bring it over to the supply room?”


You grabbed the bags from the car and started walking off but Deanna spoke again. “Oh (y/n), I’m throwing a party tonight. You should come and get to know the new group!”

You nodded your head and smiled before walking off to the supply room. You shut the door behind you with your foot, setting the bags down before taking everything out of it. You started stacking everything in the right place, keeping to the order that Deanna liked it. You were on your last bag when you heard the supply room open and close. You took out the last can before looking to the door.

You could have sworn your heart stopped beating for at least a couple of seconds. The can that was in your hand dropped to the floor and you stood still. You couldn’t believe it, Daryl was standing right in front of you, you thought you had gotten away from him for good, but life had a different plan for you.

“(Y/n)” Daryl reached his hand out, a sign that he didn’t want to hurt you but you took a step back, feeling your back touch the cold wall.

“Don’t come near me” you said, holding your hand out as well. You started to shake your head and pick up the can you had dropped and place it on the shelf. You grabbed the now empty bags and threw them into a drawer.

You took in a breath and faced him, he was still looking at you in shock and also guilt. “So, you’re with the new group?”

“Yeah.” you replied. You crossed your arms over your chest and looked at the floor.

“How long have you been here?”

“About two months, maybe.” You replied bluntly, looking back up to him. “I need to go, Heath wanted to see me” you lied, standing up straight and walking past him, leaving him alone with his own thoughts.

Daryl stood by the door, shocked to see you there in front of him, it was almost like his mind was playing tricks on him. When the outbreak started, he had no intention of finding you. You had left him on your own accord and he wasn’t going to stop you, but when he met Carol and Ed, he had realised how badly he had treated you. He watched as Carol would cower to Ed and do whatever he asked of her, it reminded him so much of how he took advantage of you and mistreated you. From that moment on he changed his whole view on women, he thought of you every night, he hoped that you were safe and not dead, you didn’t deserve it. His thoughts were heard and here you were, safe and very much alive.

Camera Anxiety (Josh Dun)

I know I haven’t posted in what seems like forever but I am on a school break and I hope to updating a few more times before i go back to hell. I hope this wasnt to sloppy and rushed as I was tired and needed sleep however i am semi proud of this so here we go.

thanking the beautiful anon for the request that inspired this i hope you enjoy it. 

Words: 1,070+


me and Josh have been officially going out for 2 months now and we know so much about each other as we were friends before we started dating, this means that Josh is aware that I have severe anxiety and suffer with frequent terrifying panic attacks. I am also aware of Josh’s anxiety and panic attacks and how he feels uncomfortable in certain situations that can trigger anxiety. 

When I started going out with Josh I knew that I was going to be in the spotlight at certain times and I was ok with this as it is what comes with dating Josh. This has never really effected me because I have not yet been with Josh when he has been smothered with cameras and the bright flashes have been aimed at him at countless directions. Though I haven’t been there with him when this has happened he has told me about previous occasions where this has occurred. Sometimes he is able to calm himself down using different techniques that personally for him however sometimes he is unable to calm himself down and he is thrown into a full blown panic attack and those are not enjoyable for anyone.

Josh is currently on tour with Tyler and me and Jenna have tagged along for a portion of it to see the boys as well as visit some area of the world that we have not seen before. Its a sunday and Tyler, Josh, Jenna and I have just arrived in Sydney Australia a beautiful place and a beautiful country. As today is a non show day we thought it would be fun to all go out and have dinner together as this is a rare opportunity for us all to be together and we would like to make the most out of it.

We clamber out of the tour bus and get in one of the vans that come with the tour gear and is used the take us to places where/near Josh and Tyler are performing. We are dropped off in the city and we walk the clustered streets of Sydney looking for a peaceful restaurant to eat at. Seeing that the streets are busy Josh senses me tense slightly at the sight of hundreds of people in an unknown place, he grabs hold of my slightly clammy hand and helps me guide through the busy commuters. 

Finally, after what seemed like forever we found a suitable restaurant and we sit down to eat together and talk about the tour as well as what me and jenna have been doing at home. We are in mid-conversation when when a couple of teens one male and one female approached our table appearing to be slightly giddy and excited. They must have been aged only 15/16. The male was wearing dark skinny jeans with rips in them and a checkered shirt however when i glanced down at his wrist I saw that he was wearing a Twenty One Pilots wristband, i smiled to myself. The girl has similar faded jeans with rips as well as a pastel pink top under a denim jacket, she also had the same Twenty One Pilots wristband.

“Hello really sorry to disturb you guys but we are big fans and we were wondering if we could get a photo really quickly.” The boy says.

“Yeah sure” Tyler responds getting up along with Josh to take photos with them, they talk for a few minutes and then come and sit back down afterwards.

“They seemed really nice. What were their names?” I ask

“They were really cool, they were called Lily and Mikey” Josh responds.

We continue to make meaningless small talk and continue to eat our meals with no other interruptions. As we were walking towards the exit after we had payed I noticed a large crowd had formed near the doorway that was making me uneasy just by looking at it. Josh grabs onto my hand and leans down to my ear.

“Just look down and dont let go of my hand” I nod in response not entirely trusting my voice to not break when i spoke.

as we approached nearer to the door I could start to see the piercing flashes or the white lights that are placed on cameras to try and get a good shot of their victim. The doors of the restaurant open and we are in a vulnerable position exposed to the cameras, to the media, to the world. I don’t dare look up from the concrete pavement and I don’t dare let go of Josh’s hand, in that moment I want to shrivel up into a small tight ball and hide from the bright flashes that create fierce contrast with the dark night sky. I feel my heart turning to stone and dropping in my chest it feels heavy and alive as it pounds with great force against my ribcage that I am sure that everyone else in close proximity to me is able to hear it. I feel my legs going weak and losing the ability to keep up with Josh as trail behind slightly, my vision becomes slightly blurred as my head spins and a million miles per hour with a constant pounding present at the back of my head. 

Somehow, and I am clueless on how I managed to make it out of that pit alive and in one peice we are away from the lights and flashes of paparazzi and clustered area to a space that is open and free away from the hustle. I realise that I am no longer holding Josh’s hand and Jenna has ushered me away from Tyler and Josh. In the heat of the moment i remember Josh telling mr something about when he sees other people getting anxious over a situation it sometimes triggers his own anxiety, Tyler must know this and made sure that we were separated until we were calm. 

Jenna sits me down on a wooden bench as is rubbing light circles on my back to take my focus away from Josh and the flashes and to only focus on my breathing and wellbeing. 

After about 10 minutes me and Josh are reunited as we have both calmed down, I take in his worn out appearance and see a sloppy, disheveled, beautiful smile appear on his face. I crawl into his arms and I am the most relaxed I will ever be in Josh’s embrace.