we were actually so close to him though i could see that hairy chest of his ;)

Park Chanyeol//Liquid Truth

Originally posted by yeolhighness

Summary: You and Chanyeol go way back, and are best friends. It’s become routine for you to come over to the dorms whenever you have a fight with your boyfriend, but lately, he’s been pissed off at you, and you’re not quite sure why.
Scenario: angst, fluff
Word Count: 6,917

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A thousand kisses

(a little bit inspired by this super cute fanart )

The low chattering and quiet laughters filled the air, the atmosphere of the tavern warm and welcoming after a long day spent in the woods. Gaston sat at the bar with a nice tankard of fresh beer in hand, his eyes fixed on the other side of the room.

He knew he was staring, and he knew he probably had his bellicose impulses written all over his face, but he couldn’t help himself.

He took another long gulp and finished his ale, slamming the empty mug on the table. In the joyous space nobody seemed to notice his mood’s shift, and that annoyed Gaston even more.

Even worse, was that the only person he wanted to notice was currently humming a tune surrounded by a little merry crowd, too far away for Gaston’s  liking. If looks could kill, then that little boy Stanley who was plastering himself all over Lefou would be already lying still on the floor. Together with Lefou of course, who was doing absolutely nothing to avoid the attentions.

The problem here was that Lefou looked simply too gorgeous for his own good. Curls soft and loose, cheeks flushed with an endearing shade of pink, red silken ribbon, blue waistcoat and that loose white shirt with lots of frills that Gaston knew was his friend’s favourite. Stanley wasn’t completely to blame after all, Gaston pondered, resting his head on one hand.

How dare Lefou go out looking so deliciously good?! Wasn’t he aware of the effect he had on people? The effect he had on Gaston himself?! Aye, there’s the rub, he thought bitterly.

Lefou wasn’t aware. Lefou didn’t have the faintest clue of the fire he could ignite in Gaston’s mind and body  with not as much as a look, or a smile, or a move. Gaston longed for him.

Sometimes he just wanted to take his friend there and then and make sure he’d learn a lesson or two about provoking him. He would make clear to whom he belonged.

Gaston longed.

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anonymous asked:

45 for rhack?

this got long….but i ended up with an idea i really liked so 

“Mmm? What’d ya say, pumpkin?”

Jack had been on the verge of falling asleep, half on top of Rhys with his face nestled between Rhys’ soft pecs. He snuffled into wakefulness as he heard Rhys talking to him, squinting up at his omega’s face. 

Rhys raised an amused eyebrow at him, mismatched eyes peering at Jack over the rims of his glasses. Jack still didn’t totally get why Rhys bothered wearing them, considering the whole cybernetically enhanced eye and all, but Rhys looked cute wearing them so Jack didn’t harp on it that much. 

“You were falling asleep, weren’t you? Jack, it’s not even nine yet.” Jack chuffed, blowing a strand of gray hair out of his eyes.

“Don’t you call me old, pumpkin…” Jack snuggled Rhys closer, pressing his cheek affectionately into the omega’s chest. Rhys set aside the tablet he’d been working on, metal and flesh fingers coming up to comb through Jack’s hair.

“Wh’ were you sayin’ anyway? Wanted to ask me a question…”

“Oh, right,” Rhys chuckled, idly parting Jack’s hair, “um, well…I was gonna say…you should tell me a secret.”

Jack snorted, not sure he’d even heard Rhys right the first time. He turned his head up, nestling his chin in the cleavage between the omega’s pecs as he looked up at him. 

“A secret? You’re kidding….”


“Rhys….how long have we been married…”

Rhys’ smile was soft and affectionate.

“Seventeen years…”

“And yet you’re askin’ me to tell you a secret like we’re a pair of tweens on a first date.”

Sooo you’re saying you don’t have any secrets left to tell me?”

“I-I….well….” Jack stammered, biting his lip as he tried to think. Though Jack was a man of many, many secrets, he actually couldn’t think of many he hadn’t told Rhys. Rhys knew about his scar, about his childhood, about his first two marriages. There was little that Jack had been able to keep from him over the years that Rhys hadn’t either inadvertently figured out of Jack hadn’t eventually broken down and told him about out of guilt.  

“Rhysie….I’m tired….can’t the secret just be ‘I love you’?”

“That’d be like, the worst kept secret ever.” Rhys snickered at Jack’s pout, smoothing the older man’s hair back against his head before letting it spring into place. Jack puffed in frustration, eyebrows knitted together as he tried to think of something, anything so he could go back to napping on his omega’s cute little chest. He was about ready to give up and just try to initiate sexytimes as a last minute distraction, when suddenly he thought of something.

“Wait wait, I know something…” Rhys raised his eyebrows at him, expectant, as Jack levered himself up on his elbows, looking his omega right in the eyes. 

“Before…listen, this is corny but….before we officially met…you know, at that one meeting when you were still working under Hendy…I’d seen you before that.” Jack lifted his hand, the gold and blue ring on his finger winking against his weathered skin as he cupped Rhys’ cheek, forefinger spreading against the delicate little creases around the omega’s mouth. 

“We’d intercepted some illegal communications going down on lines built outside of Hyperion regulation. The usual shit, trying to funnel out trade secrets and plans and junk, alongside black market goods and all that. Mostly routine. But there was this one scumbag who was getting pretty chummy with a hired hitman. Worked in Analytics.”

Rhys’ eyes brighten in understanding. 

“Security wanted my approval on what to do with these guys and….well…they sent me all the files of evidence to look over. Asshole was pissed off about a promotion being stolen from him, wanted the ‘problem’ taken care of. And that’s the first time I ever saw your face.”

Jack brushed his finger over Rhys’ stunned, plush lips. 

“I knew from the moment I saw you….dunno why….but I knew I never wanted anything bad to happen to you.” Jack leaned in and pressed a little kiss under Rhys’ eye, his cheek glowing blue as his eyelid fluttered. 

“So the next morning, I had him airlocked.”

There was a rush of movement and suddenly the distance between them closed and Rhys was pressing a kiss against Jack’s lips, his arms falling to loop around Jack’s neck as he tugged the alpha close. Jack willingly pressed forward, kissing the omega back until the both of them were breathless. 

“Jack…” Rhys panted as their kiss parted, blush high on his pale cheeks. “You mean to tell me….all this time…you saved my life before I even met you.”

“Well, I’ve saved your life a whole bunch of other times too.” 

“And I yours, don’t forget…” Rhys winked, bringing Jack in for another tender kiss. “But this is….wow…”

“It was no biggie. Wasn’t about to let some taint take out such a cutie from stupid alpha jealousy. ‘Specially since now I got a husband and pups outta the deal.” Jack snorted, though he’s more than pleased to see the affect sharing this secret has had on Rhys. Especially when the omega’s touches turn more seductive, his hands running down from Jack’s neck to his chest. A purr builds in the omega’s throat as he looks up at Jack with half-lidded eyes. 

“I’m thinking Mr. Secret Hero deserves a special reward.” Rhys smirked, hands brushing over Jack’s hairy chest. “Unless of course….you’re too tired.”

Jack grinned, showing off eager teeth as his hands find Rhys’ slim hips.

“Nah, pumpkin, now I’m wide awake.”

24 Hour Fatness

             Heading home for the holidays wasn’t something I was looking forward to initially. My family’s a drag, my old friends’ lives seem to revolve around the small town drama, and everyone there is just so… skinny. To be honest I’ve always preferred my men on the chunkier side, and by that I mean just about as big as I can get them. Nothing gets me going more than see a big fat gut hanging out of a snug shirt. And I knew my hometown just wouldn’t be able to give that to me.

At least that’s what I thought before I arrived.

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A New World

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Reader
Request: Reader from our world, dies in a car accident and her soul is send to middle-earth decades after Thorins death. She is confused why she is in erebor and from the corner of her eye she suddenly notice something moving further deeper into the mountain. She follows whatever is guiding her straight to durins tomb. She feels someone behind her and when turning around, she sees Thorin standing there curious look on his face asking who she is and why she is there. While explaining, thorin realize that Mahal has done this. Their souls being bound together, although they were in different worlds and it was only after death they were allowed to find each other. Lots of fluff 😀
Warnings: Somewhat Graphic Descriptions (of an Injury), Car Crash
Word Count: 2723                    *Posted 29.7.17


Your head snaps back.

The front of your car crumples like tinfoil. Air bags smother your face. You gasp, then cough as you inhale the powder that exploded out with the airbags. Car alarms blare. You can see the other driver slumped over their wheel. Your right leg is throbbing, forcing you to ignore the destruction. You don’t want to look down at your leg but you have to. Maybe it’s nothing. Please be nothing, you hope.

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so over at @omgcp-tropechallenge they’re doing this thing where they provide a trope and a creator, well, creates a work based on that! this week’s trope was a soulmates AU. i’ve never written one before, so i hope you like it.

(also, in this fic the soulmate thingy is being able to hear whatever song the other is listening to.) (also, I’M SORRY THE FORMATTING OF THIS IS SO GROSS I DID IT ENTIRELY FROM MOBILE)

Dad rock.

It had to be dad rock.

Oh, Bitty knew it could be worse. Some people’s soulmates were deaf and couldn’t hear music at all. Some people’s soulmates died before they ever got a chance to meet them. Others never even had soulmates at all. Bitty knew he should be grateful.

But as he heard Bon Jovi’s “Living On a Prayer” echo through his mind for the third (third!) time as he moved his boxes into his freshman dorm at Samwell, Bitty was pretty damn far from grateful.

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Iron's daughter Part 4

Iron’s daughter Part 3

Summary:  Time goes on and Tony Stark’s daughter (Y/N) is getting the best junior assistant he could imagine. He finds himself feeling comfortable in his role of being a Dad.

Warnings: None

“I’m on the hiiiighway to hell” I loudly sang along with the music in the background while I repaired the circuit of the suits extremities, just the way Tony had shown me how to do it. I don’t know what happened to the completely damaged suit, but there were dents and scratches all over it. Body parts were burned, hit by bullets, or they were just missing.

We had spent most of the time in his lab, building robotic applications, repairing whatever needed to be repaired and tried everything to upgrade his new suit.  He had had some problems with the stability of the suit that flew together with the help of microchips implants in his body and we tried to think of a way how to fix that. And finally, after many days, we were extremely close to solve it.

“Ahh…shit.” Tony grunted annoyed and stopped working. “(Y/N)?” “Yeah?” I replied absent minded, while I soldered a small computer-chip into the Iron Man helmet. “Can you come over for a sec, I need a pair of tiny hands.”

“Mute” I said and the music stopped immediately. I shoved the goggles up my head, which protected me from the bright light and took a deep sigh. I had just finished welding and soldering pieces of the titanium body parts and he just sat there for an hour, fiddling with some wires and tools.

I jumped off the table and took a close look at his work.

“I should stop making things unreachable small.” He said with the pocket lamb between his teeth and I removed the mass of wires to see what he was pointing at.

“You have to find the red wire. Try to connect it with the main energy transmitter.” He said in a monotone voice and I moved my hand forward into the hole. It was automatically, almost natural for me to find the exact right spot and to connect the wire to the power resource. I turned it around at forty-five degrees. “Okay, let’s try it.” I said and he took a few steps back until he reached the platform where he had been standing before.

Tony aimed with his arm towards the metal, but nothing happened and we both frowned. “I don’t understand. It should have worked!” he muttered under his breath. “It must be the fault of the changed control algorithm.” “Have you tried Accio Suit?” I suggested and he let out a dry laugh.

"Try again!” “What do you think I am doing all the time (Y/N)? It’s not working.” Tony stopped trying to activate the impulse out of the suit’s main body parts with gestures.

“Stupid, worthless-“ I sighed in frustration and punched the metal on the table, but then the realisation hit me and I knew how to solve it.

"What are you doing?” Tony asked, as I stood up and ran to the next computer screen. “Wait.” I simply said and started to type in codes, complicated formulas to trick the algorithm.

"I think that’ll help.” I said and pressed enter and suddenly all lights broke down.

“Great (Y/N), really great.” He said sarcastically into the darkness and let his arms fall to his side.

But then the lights went back on and suddenly the suit’s drives began to blow steam. I gave him a ‘told you’ look. Tony laughed as he noticed he was able to activate the micro chips and immediately let them fly into the air. It gently fitted on Tony’s shoulders.   “You’re really getting good at this (Y/N).” “I’m the best.” I replied in an arrogant tone and lifted one corner of my lip.

But my eyes went wide as the other body parts flew together one by one in full equipment and in the end, the Iron Man everybody knows stood in front of me.  Tony winked at me and smiled before the visor of his helmet completed his armour.  It looked incredible cool and I was proud being a part of it.

I cheered and started to jump around and clap my hands. “We did it!” I hugged him happily. His suit wasn’t really comfortable to hug, but I didn’t care. My face pressed at the cold, red and gold metal. “No, (Y/N). We did it.” He replied with his mechanic voice. I was so proud. “Thanks Dad.” I stiffened. I wasn’t sure, if I should have said that and now it was too late to take it back, but he looked at me with the glowing slits of his eyes and chuckled under his mask. He ran his metal hand trough my hair.


Being his assistant was the best thing I ever done in my life, but it was exhausting. It had been an exciting day, I had learned so much about engineering and now it was almost midnight and we just kept on working. At least no one was telling me to go to bed in time. I massaged the bridge of my nose and took a sip out of my Coca-Cola bottle.

2 a.m.

I stared holes into the air, picked up Turtle and yawned. I was wondering why Tony wasn’t tired. I can’t remember he had slept at all since my arriving.

My eyes were almost closed and my head almost slid away under my hand. I glanced at the clock. “Must.stay.awake.” I muttered under my breath. I didn’t want to sleep, this was way too exiting. I smiled tiredly and rubbed my eyes, laid my head to rest on the table next to the computer screen. Just for one minute, I wanted to close my eyes before I could start running new simulations for the suit. And before I noticed, I drifted away and fell asleep.


Tony stretched his back and crack his knuckles before he glanced over to the little girl that was supposed to watch the simulations. He wondered why she stopped talking, though she never did. First, he enjoyed the silence, but after quite a while, he felt like he was missing something. He turned around and saw her eyes were closed and her head rest in both her arms to make it more comfortable. Fast asleep with a screwdriver in her hand.

He felt bad he had let her stay up for this long and swore to himself it won’t happen again, although she wouldn’t like it at all.

He walked towards her and carefully lifted her tiny body in his arms and she immediately laid her head onto his shoulder. “C’mon, time to go to bed.” He said softly, but she just made a hollow sound in her sleep that made his heart light up a little. He never thought he could feel this way, but he was totally sure he had completely lost his heart to this girl. She cuddled her arms and legs around him and said something like ‘force feedback motor’ in her sleep.

Tony made his way through the lab and he slowly carried (Y/N) upstairs.

He carefully laid her down the bed and covered her with blankets as tight as he could; He placed a soft kiss on her forehead and silently wanted to leave again, as he felt something was holding him back. (Y/N) wouldn’t let him go, she cuddled into his chest in her sleep and forced him to stay down. Tony didn’t plan to stay by his daughter, he had work to do. But a smile showed up his lips. He finally let himself defeat by his tiredness and laid his chin on top of her head, closed his eyes and fell asleep.

“Well this is cute.” Someone chuckled and I slowly opened my eyes to see Pepper standing in front the bed, looking perfectly as always, smiling happily.  

I didn’t know how I got here; I could only remember falling asleep behind the computer and now I woke up after a night full of dreams about building robots, covered with blankets and pillows.

Stretching out my feet, I felt something hairy between my toes. Tony’s face. I literally lay across him. He grunted sleepy and I saw him lifting one eye. “Ugh, gross.” He muttered and pushed my foot out of his face. Pepper lay down next to us and let out a silent giggle. “This is the first time I see you two not working.” “Yeah, actually. I don’t feel like cutting wires today, let’s just stay in bed.” Tony suggested and pulled Pepper closer to him. She smiled and then they kissed. “Ugh, gross!” It was my turn to say and I covered my eyes with both my hands.

We spend all morning in bed, telling stories, playing cards or counting clouds in the sky over the sapphire-blue ocean.

“Who’s hungry?” Tony asked finally and I suddenly noticed my stomach ached for something to eat. “I am.” Pepper responded.

“I could make some baked eggs.” I said with a sarcastic grin as we entered the kitchen and Tony turned around on his heel with a horrified expression on his face. “No eggs.” He pointed with his finger at me, while he continued collecting random ingredients.

“This can’t be that hard, doesn’t it?” Tony said staring at the ingredients and started to pull some milk to the sugar. “See? Easy.” But Pepper frowned unconvinced.  I grabbed my fingers around the edge of the counter to see what was happening and lifted an eyebrow.

“What are you actually trying to do?” “Waffles.” He said grinning, whilst stirring the dough that was way too fluent. “Gluten free.”

“Is that normal?” I asked Pepper and dipped my finger into the dough. “Tony usually never cooks. And if, it’s burned or still raw.”  She replied anxiously and leaned against the only part of the counter that wasn’t covered with dough.

"Take that back!” He said with a fake-offended expression on his face that made me giggle. But Pepper stretched out her tongue and didn’t seem like she wanted to.

So he dipped his fingers into the white powder and threw it at her. Now her whole face was covered with flour and her jaw dropped in shock. Her expensive dress was ruined and there was a moment of awkward silence between the three of us. I held my breath, thinking she’d get mad and already started praying for Tony, but in the next moment she threw a hand back at him, grinning like a kid.

I started to laugh, but was suddenly interrupted by a mass of powdery flour all over my body, that Tony had thrown over my head. I coughed, just to put my whole hand into the whipped cream.  This calls for revenge.

Tony tried to escape, but I had already pushed it in his face and we burst into laughing. The flour-and whipped cream-fight became more and more intense, until we all were covered with sticky grease. Pepper and I screamed and I ran away as fast as I could, but he grabbed my legs and threw me over his shoulder. I desperately kicked my legs through the air, but I couldn’t do anything but laugh. “Let gooo!” I screamed, as he started running and spinning me around.  “I will teach you being this cruel to your old man!”

"Peppie- Help me!” I whined with the brightest grin I had and was abruptly interrupted by a heavy hiccup. Tony laughed at me and didn’t made serious actions letting me down. “I can’t hear you; I have cream in my ears.” He said and tickled me, while Pepper tried to free my turtle from dough. Poor thing. “No stopitstop*hiccup*, itstopit! Let *hiccup* me go.”

He laughed, but suddenly stopped as we heard an amused chuckle behind us. I couldn’t see who it was, though he kept me hanging over his shoulder. My side hurt and I had tears in my eyes. “Uhm…the door was open.” I knew that voice. “Mum?” I asked and finally Tony let me down. “Hey, darling.” She kneeled as I ran towards her and hesitated hugging me, kept me on distance, because I was covered over and over with flour. Just like the two adult persons behind me, who were watching us. “(Y/M/N)” Tony said surprised.

"I’m gonna go and uhm…” Pepper pointed at nothing special behind her and started to leave the room. “Check the…uhm. Thing.”

Mum smiled shyly and cleared her throat. “Good to see you Tony.” She fiddled with her keys. “Good to see you face to face.” He replied with a smile and remembered her driving away as fast as she could, leaving me and a letter to him.  Mum breathed in the air between her teeth. “Yeah, sorry about that.” She said guiltily. “Is it already end of the summer? I don’t wanna go!” I whined and grabbed my Dad’s hand. I didn’t notice time went on so fast, though I finally started to feel at home. He squeezed my hand a bit tighter.

But all my protests and moans didn’t help, but it came as it had to come. We had to say goodbye. At least we had time to take a shower before and collect my stuff that was spread all over the place.

Pepper laid her soft hand on my cheek, gave me my backpack and placed a kiss on my hair. “I hope we’ll see each other soon (Y/N). You can come back and stay whenever you want.” “You know how to hack my security system.” Tony added and pretended like letting Mum take me with her wouldn’t be a big deal. But he couldn’t trick me; I saw the sadness in his eyes. Truth was he didn’t want me to go. He kneeled down and stroke a strain of hair behind my ear.

“I made you something.” I said and pulled out a piece of paper and laid it into his hands. He grinned as he saw the drawing I had made of me and him. Iron Man, holding a little girl by the hand that seemed to be the luckiest kid on earth. “I know it’s not perfect.” I sighed a little, but I saw he was grinning brightly at the childish drawing. “It’s perfect.” He said and swallowed.

“You’re a great Dad.” I said and I really meant it. “I guess you’re not that bad either kiddo. I wished we had met earlier. I’m sorry.” He cupped my cheek in his hand. “I will miss you.” My voice started to shake a bit and I knew I would miss him badly. Him and Pepper, and even Dummy.

I sadly threw my backpack over my shoulder and put Turtle into my pocket, before Mum and I walked towards our car. But it only took a few steps before I turned around and ran back to him and without a word, I jumped in his spread arms and hugged him for a last time. He sighed deeply into my hair.

Until he had to let me go.

I looked back at him and Pepper. “Dad?” “Yeah?” I smiled. “My birthday is in two weeks. Will you come?” “How about a big birthday party for my special girl?” He replied and made me jump in anticipation. “Oh, oh.” Pepper said, knowing something that I didn’t.

I couldn’t wait until that day and I was so happy, it made me step into Mum’s car easier.  I waved at him through the window as the car slowly started to drive away and let Turtle blow kisses to them.

Tony waved back and smiled, but he felt lost, as he watched them driving away and disappear around the corner. It was only five weeks ago he didn’t even know he had a daughter, didn’t want to have a kid, but it turned out he couldn’t imagine life without her. Maybe, he thought, someday she would want to live here with him and he could watch her grow up and enjoy the beautiful moments of life. With Pepper and (Y/N), he had finally found a family, he could protect and love.

The End.

Cleaning Service

Prompt by the lovely @yanajoz

You sighed with frustration as you let yourself into Jai Courtney’s home. The place was a total mess. It looked like he had a party at his place last night. He was going to make you earn your money today. You lugged your cleaning supplies into the messy home. As you surveyed the damage, you realize you would need one of your employees here to help. You usually were in and out of Jai’s home in record time but today you knew it was going to be longer and he was going to put you behind schedule.
“Shit!” you muttered to yourself as you started to pick up trash. You had tried to reach your other employees for help. They were either already at a house or were off and did not pick up their phone. You were on your own. It took you a good two hours to get the living room and kitchen clean. There were stains everywhere and God only knew what they were. You headed upstairs to the bathroom and bedrooms. You looked for the note Jai sometimes left on his door telling you not to clean his room that particular day, seeing none you preceded in his bedroom to find a large figure sprawled in the bed with just boxers on.

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Request/er: Werewolf Chanyeol / Anonymous

Originally posted by kpopderpislifeu

Written By: Admin L. 
Summary: Some people have a crush on their handsome neighbors and admire them from afar… other people just accidentally tackle the cute guy down at their first meeting. And get themselves into a way bigger adventure than a flirt with that hottie next door. 
A/N: Okay, so in the request it wasn’t specified whether you wanted smut or fluff or angst …so I just did all of those.  Also I am sorry this took so long. 
Word Count: 3898

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The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow (Part 2) (Avengers x reader)

Request: Part 2 to The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow- sorry to the anon who requested this on the last group, I can’t believe I missed it!

Part 1

“Ugh, I’m dying,” you groaned to yourself, rolling over to look at the clock on your bedside table, seeing that it was only 4am.  With a hiss and a swat of your hand, the clock took flight and slammed against the far wall of your room, breaking into pieces across your floor.  You sat up with an ache that pounded in your head and pulled at every muscle in your body, deciding that your nose was too stuffed up to breathe if you laid back down.  “Where the hell did this come from?”

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Baby Love

one two

Busan, fourteen years ago..

         "Oppa, you’re so cool. I love you!“

         "Hey, you’re still a baby. You don’t even know the meaning of love.”

         "Later, if I become adult, I want to marry you!“

         "Tsk, I don’t want to marry you.”

         "Why? What should I do so I can marry you?“

         "Grow taller and be a beautiful lady, I might change my mind if you become prettier.”

         "Okay! I will be pretty and marry you, I promise!“

         I promise!
         I promise! 
         I promise!


        "Simon Dominic has a unique and captivating voice, I really like his rapping style.” You said through microphone, you were on radio interview with your girl group members and the interviewer asked you which one of your favorite rapper among a lot of charming and talented rapper in Korea music industry since your position as rapper in your girl group.

         If AOA Jimin is die hard fan of Jay Park, then you are die hard fan or obviously obsessed over AOMG Co-CEO, Simon Dominic. That was a public secret among your inner circle on how you collect everything about Simon since you were young.

         “I heard that you already met him, can you tell us when it was and how about your feeling when you met you favorite rapper?” The interviewer added, gaining playful gaze among you members.

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“God dammit, Danni, why didn’t I buy the CD?” Jensen groans, slumping back in the passenger seat and clutching his still unopened vinyl copy of CUNTWRECKER to his chest. “I want to listen to this right fucking now!”

“Because you’re a size queen, honey,” Danni says. “In every sense of the word.” The smartass smirk she’s wearing is dripping from her words even though Jensen can’t see her face well in the dim blue glow of the dash. “We can listen to it at my place after school, I’ll rip it to my computer so you can make a CD if you want. You should really leave the sleeve at home though…”

Jensen sighs and tips the album cover toward the window to catch more light from the freeway. Inconvenience aside, the album cover was magnificent and bigger was definitely better in this case. He was going to pound his dick raw imagining being that boy, ass up for the lead guitarist’s dick, the first fucking chance he got.

They’d watched half a dozen other bands after Fuckpig’s set and it had been over an hour since they piled back into Danni’s car to drive back to the manicured Dallas suburb they called home. But his heart was still back in that pit, Fuckpig’s loud, filthy music thrumming through every inch of his body.

He’d let the whole band fuck him to hear them again right now, even their gorgeous dyke drummer. He imagines her slamming into him with a fat purple strap-on strapped to her hips and a wicked smile on her face. Of course, it would be tall, dark, and hung who’d get the honor of finishing him off, fucking everyone else’s come out of him.

The lead guitarist was as tall as a goddamn tree and had eyes like heartbreak beneath the hint of smudged liner he wore. Jensen’s heart flipped when his Adam’s apple bobbed and he snarled like a fox into the mic while he played. He didn’t even have to whisper all the filthy shit he was thinking about him to Danni, she was the one who nudged him between songs and arched her brows up at the generous bulge in the dude’s snug black Levi’s.

He adjusts his half-hard cock and practically purrs as he closes his eyes and thinks back on their set.

“Their LYRICS, Danni. I mean did you hear that shit? It was like a love letter to my sick little queer boy heart. I’m forever changed.”

“I kept wondering how many of the jock fuckboys in that pit knew they were slamming against one another to a song about licking jizz out of a dude’s hairy asshole.”

“That’s the best fucking part!”

They both cackle like idiots for nearly a minute before Danni cracks the window and fires up a Camel light. Jensen finally relents and flips on the stereo, the Buzzcocks album they’d been listening to filling the car with its familiar tinny rhythm before he snags a cig for himself too.

The cell reception was shit out here or he’d be searching the band’s bios already. He’d be up all night scraping every fact he could find about them off the internet, inking it all into the inside of his eyelids to regurgitate back to Danni on the ride to school.

“We have to go see them in Dallas, Danni. God fuck what if they’re playing Houston or OKC or Shreveport too? I’ll buy your ticket, will you drive me pleaseeeeee?“


Three shows later and the band is finally out of reach, heading east then north, on their cross-country tour with a funny little queercore band called Road Head.

“Jared. JARED. God damn it, Danni. He’s so fucking hot. Punch me in the fucking face.”

The show was epic and every part of Jensen aches with Fuckpig. He flops back onto Danni’s bed dramatically, the funk of the pit wafting up off him in a practically visible cloud, as she hunkers down on the floor to begin unlacing her knee high Docs.

“You’re so transparent, Jen,” she huffs. “You act like it’s about the band, the music, but I swear to god at least fifty percent of what keeps you chasing them is that you want to see if that’s really his horse meat on the stupid album cover.”

Jensen gasps in mock outrage and pushes up on his elbows, his cut up Fuckpig t-shirt falling off one freckled shoulder as he gives her the most affronted glare he can manage.

“You take that back!”

It’s not that she’s wrong about Jared or his dick but she is wrong about the music. It’s imprinted on his goddamn DNA.

“Their music, Danni, it’s in my blood. It’s like it was written FOR ME.”

He collapses back into the blankets again and toes off his broken down purple Chucks, rolling onto his belly and sighing longingly. He can feel her boring holes into him with her dark little piercing eyes but he doesn’t care.

“It would be the easiest thing in the world, you know. Get a bus ticket, hitchhike a little, follow them to Memphis, Nashville, Raleigh. Up the coast… I mean, I could inspire their next record, be the best ‘Band-Aid’ ever.”

“Oh my fucking GOD, Jensen. You’ve seen that movie too many times. Penny Lane is supposed to be a cautionary figure not fucking life goals!”

“Screw Penny Lane, Danni. I’m JENNY LANE!” Jensen wails dramatically, his arms flopping out over his head with a big, stupid grin on his face.

He hums to himself softly as he’s bathed in the sweet, nostalgic ache he feels for Almost Famous and that darling groupie, Penny. He definitely has seen the movie too many times but he honestly wasn’t trying to follow in Penny’s footsteps, not consciously anyway. The thought of actually leaving home to follow Fuckpig only solidified during the last few moments and now there it was, burning like a red hot poker right up against his thumping heart.

It doesn’t occur to him that Danni is actually mad until she stands up in a huff and chucks her boots into the back of her closet like she’s spiking a volleyball. The loud crash-thump makes Jensen’s body jerk in shock against her cushy mattress. Thankfully her parents were still out of town.

“Stop talking like this, Jensen, right fucking now!” Her fists are balled at her side and her chin is trembling under her smeared lipstick. “You’ll end up murdered and shoved in a fucking dumpster, okay? You’re just a baby!”

Jensen goes quiet and averts his eyes.

In just a few short weeks Fuckpig had become his entire life. It wasn’t that Danni didn’t like them, she really did, but for Jensen it had become his religion.

The week after the festival he got an “F” filled pink heart inked on his right thumb knuckle and a matching “P” etched into the left.

The night before the Houston show he made a bandana out of a Barbie pink summer dress he found forgotten in the back of his mom’s closet. He scribbled a big pig snout on it in black Sharpie so he could shout “OINK! OINK! OINK!” proudly with his fist in the air with Fuckpig’s other hardcore fans, screaming along to the lyrics like he helped write the songs himself.

He sold his skateboard and his comic book collection to pay for tickets. This was love.

He’d been riding the crazy show-to-show high just fine and the show tonight had given him the bruises to prove it. But now it was over, Fuckpig was driving away, and the thought of not seeing them again in a week was making Jensen’s insides feel like dissolving Jell-O with every moment that passed.

Obsessions like these had happened to Jensen before, leaving Danni and their friendship reeling for a while. Like when he’d discovered Arthur Rimbaud and dedicated himself to learning French so he could read the untranslated versions of his poems or when he discovered fetish artist Michael Manning and started researching pony play and saving up for an elaborate latex dress.

Jensen was just an ‘all in’ kind of person, his love burned big and bright, so bright it often bleached out the rest of the world for a while. Danni had been a little hurt over his absences but she’d always understood, waiting patiently for Jensen to get over it and come back to their friendship a whole person again.

But this was different, somehow, and suddenly in the twinkling purple fairy lights of her bedroom they both seemed to feel it. This wasn’t going away.

He looks up at his best friend, his eyes soft and pleading.

“These people, Danni… They’re the first people that have ever made all the noisy, confusing, filth in my brain seem anything but certifiable. I can’t help how I’m wired. For whatever reason I was made to be this sick little fag. I don’t know any other way to be. Why should I just stay here and try to fit in when I’ll only be shunned or locked up?”

“Life isn’t a fucking movie, Jensen!”

“I fucking know it’s not, okay!” He shouts, cutting her off and then immediately softening his tone.

“But what is there for me here but you, Danni? You said it yourself back at the festival, I’m like one detention away from being sent to cure the queer camp. I wasn’t made to graduate summa cum laude like you,” he licks his lips and winks at her before she starts to worry he’s being too serious.

“It’s this place that’s a dead end for me. Not whatever’s out there. You know damn well Donna will secretly be relieved. She can be a martyr with her church friends again, just like when dad bailed. She’ll love the attention. She’ll barely even look for me… It’s not like I’m an only child.”

He sees the tears spill down Danni’s cheeks as he reaches out for her wrist and pulls her into a heap on the bed with him. Just like that, his mind’s made up.

“Once I’m with them and things here have blown over you’ll come visit me, right?”

She sucks in a deep breath and buries her face into his neck even though it’s sweat-sticky and gritty. They lay there in the quiet for a long time, Jensen’s mind already a hundred miles away.

“You could come with me you know?” he finally says quietly. “I bet you’re exactly Adri’s type.”

“Oh my god SHUT UP,” she groans, giving him a sharp elbow jab in the ribcage.

“Ouch, fuck, Danni that hurt,” he whines, rubbing the warm spot exploding across his torso. “It was just a joke. I know you’re too sweet for rock n’ roll.”

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The things I’d do for the Marines and my country, I swear.  They wanted me to go undercover at a gay resources center the allies had going in the middle east; one of thousands, I’d suspect.  All I knew was they needed me staffing this one next week, and that I’d have to pass as a gay.

DARPA tech being what it was, of course they had a epigenetic syringe all prepped when the medivac unit had me in their mobile.  "What’s in that?“ I said, not resistant – never resistant – though I was neverless afraid, I had to admit, and not liking the looks of where this was likely to take me at all.

"Injectable,” the doctor said, “we want you to pass as convincingly as possible.  The effects are permanent but we maybe be able to reverse it someday if the technology ever gets to that point.  No guarantees that it will, but you’ll live a long, full life regardless.”

“What’s it do?” I said, my stomach sinking.

“You’ll be a bona fide homosexual, maybe even with a lisp,” the doctor smirked.  "Although that’s mostly cultural and might come with time.  You never know just how gay you’ll be feeling, though, before you meet your first encounter.  Do you think you’re more of a bedroom guy or a hookup in the stalls sort of guy?“  Wow, this doctor.  I wasn’t into the gay lifestyle but that was pretty dismissive coming from somebody comfortable with turning guys with families and entire lives ahead of them that way, including me…

I sighed.  I probably should just roll up my sleeve and get this over with, I figured, as I didn’t even want to hear about this right now.  "As long as it doesn’t make me into one of those… what do they call themselves?  Animals, or like women…

"Actually, you’ll be an otter.  Enjoy!” he said, finding my vain and starting to depress the syringe.

What the fuck’s an otter, I wondered, grabbing my backpack and heading down to the center I’d be stationed at for at least the next twelve months.  I felt woozy and odd, almost as if I were going to break out in hives or something,  My groin felt kind of itchy, and it spread out onto my legs from there, up my belly and onto my chest until I was scratching like crazy, even my face.  I had to get out of this shirt, I thought, and when I unlocked the door and stripped it off I noticed all that itching was being caused by hair that was sprouting up all over me.  Oh fuck, they really did want me to be one of those animal gays, I thought.

Oh well, at least it didn’t affect my mind any, I figured, as I wasn’t into this at all.  Some girls actually did love a hairy chest and a strong beard, or I could always shave it.  How was this really supposed to help me pass as gay anyhow, I wondered?  I went over to the bathroom and threw the mirror on.  Don’t they have smooth gays, too?  I flexed for the mirror, wondering if I was supposed to learn to talk like a gay too.  "What, so how’s it feel to be ottered-up?“ I asked my reflection.  No response.  This was going to be a long 12 months.

I went back into the other room.  Some desks, a lamp, a couple computers.  I wondered if they’d have me handing out condoms and shit, consoling couples, good grief, what an assignment this was.  I needed some rest, I thought, and stripped off my khakis and put on some shorts.  Damn, even my legs were hairier than shit now.  Gays who call themselves otters, I thought, how ridiculous.  I laid down on the pillow, wondering if should have just declined the assignment or even went AWOL rather than agree to take on such a humiliating form of duty.

I nodded off.  My dreams felt tortured and full of sweaty anxiety.  I think I was even feeling stressed and delusional enough to have imagined a giant otter king or god of sorts to be swimming around and around in circles.  Then I saw something in the distance – was it my lieutenant?  No, it was my fellow sergeant who I had my first FITREP with, Johnny Ralston, good guy for sure.  We first bumped and I gave him a pat on the back, oh it was good to see somebody I knew.  Johnny, I wish you could be here, I tried to say, and I knew we were finished for the day.  But it was already time to be changing back into our civilian clothes, so we hit the locker room.  I was putting my stuff away for the showers and it was my old body again, when I was smooth, so that was a relief, and Johnny, he had always been kinda hairy, I mean just a little in the center of his chest, and his pits, and some on his legs… it was weird to be thinking that, so I tried not to notice as we hit the showers.  I mean I just wanted to make sure, I guess, that I was still smooth, and to compare to that otter bod they had me in.  I hoped this wasn’t a dream and that Johnny and I could just be buds and I could go on leave soon.

Somehow I was getting that weird feeling that this was a dream, though, so I was determined to stay in it.  I looked over at Johnny as I was soaping up my smooth chest.  He was getting wet with the shower on and it really darkened up the little patch on his chest and on his forearms.  Don’t look at that, I told myself, working on soaping up my groin, and my chest was so nice just as it was, smooth and shit, there goes the soap, I thought.  Don’t think a gay thought, I told myself, which was weird – it was like I was trying to think of a joke, fags always drop the soap, but I looked over at John again and man, did he always have a furry butt?  "Dude, I don’t need to see your furry ass,” I tried to say, but I saw my dick was inflating as I looked down, and no, and I tried to think of something else but his ass was so perfect, two perfect round pillows covered with this fuzz that stupidly just foofed out all over them, really the daksy and thickest in the middle by his hole, and if I could just get closer to it maybe I could see what was going on, maybe he would let me see it close and then… er… I tried to hold onto the dream, I was getting really excited over the thought of this guy’s hairy ass and that was so wrong but it felt so right and…

I started to wake up, realizing I was cumming….nooooo….I wanted to stay back in the dream, I thought, I had to see Johnny’s ass closer, or even tell him… tell him we had to… which was all weird and confusing, but then there I was, twitching on my bed as I shot load after load through my underwear, even getting the sheets wet right as it soaked right through the briefs I had on.

I looked down at myself, my sweaty hair chest and my briefs, surrounded now by dark pubes that spread out onto my hairy thighs, my ottered-up thighs, my sexy thighs, I thought, and realized I had turned queer.  Had I did something wrong in the dream, if only I hadn’t looked at Johnny, or even hit the showers, why did I do something so stupid, this wouldn’t have happened to me, I thought, confused, panting, just dripping with sweat.

“You stupid fucking otter,” I panted, breathing heavily as my heart raced.  I look down at my sweaty pecs, so covered with hair, which I just had to rub my hand over.  I felt my dick twitch, obviously liking what my eyes were taking in.  God, that hair, something about it… dark and illicit and… just sexy… “ottered-up” I said out loud, feeling me beard now, my dick smacking up against my hairy belly as I stripped my soaked briefs off,  I grabbed my dick and a wave of erotic sensation passed through me, so I stroked it gently for a few seconds until I thought about what I was doing.

I needed to clear my head, so I went to the mirror, but this time when I turned on the light switched and gazed at my reflexion, my dick just got harder at the thought.  I flexed, loving the dark patch of hair beneath my arm that stuck out in its wiry way, thicker than before they gave me that shot.  "You fuckin’ furball,“ I said to my reflection and smiled.  "What the fuck man?  You like this shit?  You like being an otter?  You’re a motherfucking otter, you horny bastard.  Look at this sexy fur,” I said, running my hand across my chest and down my belly and up on across my beard again.  Even my arms looked good with this fur, I thought.

I really didn’t even want to put clothes back on, I thought, and my dick was still hard, slapping up against my belly hair.  I felt like I’d probably cum just from even hearing a man call me an otter for the first time.  I still wanted to see Johnny’s ass from my dream up close, and felt upset that I had missed out on that, but there had to be other men.  At least I was in the right place for that, I thought, reminding myself that that was the whole point.  Man, I’m so glad they did this to me, I’m a hot otter now and I can’t wait til I can get in good enough with a guy to feel what gay sex is like, to see somebody else up close, maybe another otter and we could have otter sex and oh god, I have to jack off, even looking down at my body is making me so turned on all of a sudden.

The Old God- Memories

Dipper glanced up from his book when Bill reentered.  “Have a good rest?”

“Have a nice time with your friends?”  Bill smiled and settled into the bed beside him.

“I did.  Its been far to long since I spent time with all of them like that.  I must thank you Pine Tree.”

“Why?”  He marked his place and set his book aside.

“You’re the one that suggested I answer that cloud.  If I hadn’t I wouldn’t have gotten to see them all.”

“How WAS the God meeting then?  Anything interesting?”

Bill snorted.  “No, most the time its just the big ones stroking their own egos and making jokes at those they consider ‘lesser’ or ‘minor’ Gods.”

Dipper snorted right back.  “If you look at mythos its the minor Gods that keep things running smoothly more often than not.  The ‘big’ ones are always messing things up.  Like Zeus for example.”

Keep reading

065. Meeting Their Kid

These days I feel like my ideas are better in my head. I hope this is alright. I think some of them are okay…


 “Can you come to the hospital, please?”

It was just like one of those nightmare two in the morning phone calls that people dream of receiving, but never actually do. Liam hadn’t heard from you in nearly a year. When your name and number flashed on the screen of his phone, he assumed you must have been drunk or that something crucial was going on. He wanted to ask questions, but like a true superhero, he sprang into action instead. He pulled clothes on over his underwear and took to his car in order to head to the hospital where you were. His mind raced with a million possibilities of what could be going on. You two still had some mutual friends though most had petered out of his life, but Liam still wondered if possibly one of them had been hurt somehow. He hoped it wasn’t your parents, he always really liked your Mum and Dad. He didn’t know what to expect and, by the time, he arrived there he was a mess of stomach knots, taking the elevator to the third floor where you texted him to go.

It was the pediatric floor which struck Liam as odd, but he was too frantic to really notice.

With your thumb between your front teeth, forehead wrinkling together, he spotted you in your sweatshirt and jeans, staring worriedly into a window. He just couldn’t see what you were looking at so intensely. Liam rushed by the row of girls looking at him with excited eyes, one with her camera phone pulled out and snapping. He wasn’t Liam Payne from One Direction right now, he was just some guy visiting a friend.

Well, you were more than his friend. He had wanted you to be and you were supposed to be, but it unfortunately just never quite happened. His break up with Danielle was too fresh and you had told him that, but he still insisted that you give him a go. Of course, he wasn’t over her and the relationship just never quite took off from the ground. He cuddled up to Sophia shortly after you two ended things in his car, you kissing his cheek and telling him to stay in touch. He said he would and he thought that he would, but he didn’t.

“Hey.” As if you two had stayed close, he greeted you with a hug, his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest that managed to still smell like musky sex despite the fact that he had just woken up when you called. “What’s going on? What’s happening?” He looked at you, the dull, but dark circles under your eyes and then over his shoulder at the room of incubators through the window and then instantly back at you. “Are you okay?”

“I need you…” Looking over him and into the window, you began, but quickly adjusted yourself to stare up into Liam’s ready-for-anything stare. “I need you to not freak out, okay?”

“It’s a bit late for that.” Softly, he chuckled.

“I have a daughter,” Over his sculpted shoulder, right by his ear, you pointed into the window at the incubator with your last name written on it. “Maisie. And she’s not even a month yet, but…” You began to whimper, looking away from Liam even though he took his hand to your cheek and brought you back to his face for focus. “And there were a lot of complications during labor…” You sidestepped by him, hugging your arms tighter to your chest, and nodded through the window at your very tiny girl. You could hold her in just one of your hands, she was barely five pounds. “She’s never even left the hospital and…they ended up having to put me under to deliver her and the medication badly damaged her liver, so she needs a transplant, a sliver really, but I’m not a match. So, I’m asking her father…” After a count of three in your head, you tilted your head up at Liam.

He didn’t react. He was just smiling to himself and looking through the window at the very tiny little girl. His heart absolutely ached for you until it stopped. When it stopped, his brain kicked in and put together everything you had laid out for him. You had a daughter, she was just under a month, you were asking her father….

“Holy fuck.” The two words raced one another out of his mouth as the air left his lungs. He bent over and grabbed hold of the plastic rail on the hospital wall, his eyes closed as he keeled over his waistline. It was a good thing he was in a hospital because Liam was about a hundred percent sure he was having some kind of failure himself.

“You can be upset with me and you can punish me however you see fit, but right now my focus is on Maisie, so whatever you want to say to me either get it out of the way now or save it until after you’ve answered me.” As fast as you could, you told Liam while hovering over him, your hand on his lower arm as you massaged it soothingly. “I wouldn’t be asking if this wasn’t important obviously…” You understood that you were asking him for much more than just a favor.

Slowly, practicing deep breathing rarely seen outside of a yoga studio, Liam stood up straight again and stared at the baby through the window. She looked so much different to him now that he knew she was a part of him, that he had made her somehow, that she was his. He held his head with both his hands, his forehead or palms sweating, perhaps, both and nodded as his thoughts began to resurface along with his pulse.

“Yeah, let’s test me. Where do I go? Who do we talk to?” He nodded, his eyes on Maisie, before he naturally slid his arm around your back side, your own arm following suit on him.


Ever since he had run into your best girl friend at the bar two weekends ago, Zayn was a sleepless mess. She had been drunk and loud which wasn’t much different from how she had been when Zayn hung out with your group, but this didn’t she wasn’t yelling for another round of shots or at the back of a guy’s head who she found somewhat attractive in her drunken state. This time her target was Zayn and she had a message to deliver to him along with a phone full of photographic evidence.

Part of him blamed it on the insomnia, but driving to your house at four in the morning seemed like a really good idea as Zayn pulled himself up off of the mattress and slid his trousers up over his hairy legs, pairing them with the first wrinkly t-shirt on the floor and then going to the door to put on his coat and sneakers.

As he drove, the traffic bare at best, Zayn recalled the last time he was with you. He remembered the way you giggled right before he entered you, how you refused to kiss him since he wasn’t actually yours, and how he stole two anyway and rubbed his stubble against your chin like sandpaper in order to make you laugh even more. Your body had shuddered underneath his and your legs shook like they would if you were having a muscle spasm. It was how he knew your orgasm was real, you had never reacted physically before, only with noise. It felt best this time, the two of you cumming together like instruments performing a duet in perfect harmony.

You two had lost touch within weeks afterwards and, for a while, Zayn had wondered why. Of course, he and Perrie had apologized to one another about the fight that had led him to your doorway in the first place, but when Zayn had met you he was dating the girl group singer. He was sure that couldn’t have been the reason for the sudden distance.

After parking, Zayn climbed the three stories to your flat door and, without thinking, pressed his finger into the doorbell. It was almost instant, the sound of painful child cries coming from the other side of the door. It made his worries feel all that much more real. There was an actual baby living with you and your best friend.

Zayn was massaging his temple with the pads of his fingers, the tears coming closer and closer until the door opened and they were practically pronounced into his ears.

There you were, tired and vulnerable in your black sleep shirt and a sobbing newborn protected in your arms. If you hadn’t looked so tired, you would have appeared as shocked as you were to see Zayn standing there.

“I should have knocked. Sorry.” He cleared his throat to say in a low tone, clearly apologetic. His eyes were glued to the bare head of the baby in your arms.

“You should have called actually.” You held your son right in front of your chest, blocking the fact that you didn’t have a bra on beneath your sleepwear. Your hair was a frizzy mess, you could feel it, and you knew that you didn’t look your best, but Zayn had seen you in disarray before. He had messed up your hair plenty of times with his experienced hands.

“Can I come in?” The crying from the baby might wake the neighbors, that was Zayn’s intitial thought, but he mostly just wanted a chance to talk to you.

“Who told you?” Leaning against the door frame, shushing your son above his head rhythmically, you asked in return. Obviously, he wasn’t there for a booty call or to ask your opinion on the You & I music video.

“Amanda.” He said without hesitation, nodding as you rolled your eyes. You had asked her not to over a hundred times. She was all about calling Zayn the moment you told her that you were pregnant, but you had made her swear on Jennifer Lopez’s (her idol) grave that she would not.

“Well, I don’t want your money or anything, so you don’t need to come check on us.” Insulting him, you shrugged and stepped away from him as the baby began to simmer down from his fussing.

“I’m not here to offer you a damn thing. I just…I wanted to know…I wanted to see….” Zayn had played out this scenario so many times in his head, but now as he was standing before you and his child, he didn’t know the right words to say. He felt way over his head.

“What did you want to know, Zayn?” Biting down on your bottom lip, you waited to hear him say it out loud.

He was fighting with himself, it might as well have been written in thick black Sharpie, it was so clear to read on his face. Zayn’s tired eyes were wet out of fear as he glanced down at the toes of his Nike dunks and then up at the baby boy, his face out of your chest and large dark eyes on Zayn’s.

“Is he mine?” Finally, he managed to blubber out through a tight throat. He knew the answer though. The math made sense and the little boy looked almost identical to Zayn when he was that fresh. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked before you could even say ‘yes’ to his question. “Did you think I’d be an asshole?” The answer to that was very important to Zayn.

“Because….I found out when I was one month pregnant, you and I hadn’t talked in a bit, and all over the radio that day, you know what I heard?” You stopped, adjusting your son’s bum in your hand as you supported him. “Your engagement announcement. It was on every station even the damn classical.” You had put it on to drive home to, but instead you were stuck listening to Zayn’s soon to be mother-in-law squawk about how happy she was. “I took that as a sign to leave you alone.” Honestly, you shared with him. It wasn’t your intention to hurt Zayn, but you didn’t want to cause any stress either. He had never been yours in the first place.

“Well, you misread that sign. You should have fucking told me.” Zayn stroked his entire face, the agony overwhelming. “You must have been so scared.” Surprising you, he choked out. “Can I come in?” For all he knew, one of your neighbors could have been listening in. He didn’t even know how he was going to tell Perrie that he had a child, let alone the entire world.

Stepping aside, you gave Zayn to freely walk in. Since your hands were full, he closed the door behind and locked it, kicking off his shoes before walking in with his mismatched socks on. The place was quaint and messy, just as it had been before the baby, and he recalled the times he had spent drunk on your couch with the afternoon sun screaming in or taking shots of tequila in the tiny kitchen nook with you two crazy girls.

“May I hold him?” Respectful that you were his mother and you had been doing this alone, Zayn asked with open hands in front of him, held like he was waiting for them to be filled with water or some kind of fluid.

“Be gentle. I want him to go back to sleep.” Lifting your  baby boy off of your chest, you began to hand him over, watching diligently as Zayn adjusted his hands. He thought about Lux and how Lou always advised him to hold her back when she was tiny.  “Come on, David,” In a voice made up entirely of melted sugar, you sang sweetly under your breath to him. You could hear Zayn repeat his name in just as soft a voice, the first time he had ever heard. When he ran into your friend at the bar, she just called him ‘your son’ or ‘cute baby’, but never by his given name. David Malik. Zayn liked that. “This is your Daddy.” You told your boy, kissing the back of his cotton soft head and giving him over to Zayn.

‘Daddy’ was all it took to send Zayn into emotional overload. He choked on his blubbering before nervously holding David in his arms, laying him down and coddling him slowly from side to side. An artist, Zayn drew his son unconsciously in his mind as he stared down at him. His wide open eyes that were as round as they were brown, his blubbering lip that curved like a cartoon heart in the middle, and his chubby fingers that curled into little fists at his sides. He was perfect.

“He was born just a month and four days ago; six pounds and twelve ounces.” Zayn stared up at you, eyes crying, but tears not moving down his cheeks. He took in the information from you greedily, wanting more. He wanted a full report on everything that had happened since David came into the world. He hated that he had missed the first month and four days. “Zayn, what are you going to do?” You stepped further into the living room, gripping the arm of the couch behind you for balance. “I won’t be mad if you can’t do this. You have a career, a fiancé, a life…”

“I’ll figure it out.” Zayn cut you off in a rush. “I’ll figure it out.” He said again, but this time adoringly looking down at his boy. He was a man of his word to. He was going to figure it out somehow.


You could remember it all as if it was still happening. Your high school boyfriend making it further and further on the reality television talent show, blowing up all over the United Kingdom, while you sat in your living room with your life changing in an even more drastic manner. You found out you were pregnant two days after he auditioned. He was flying out to Simon’s house while you were stuck in Manchester, freaking out about how you were going to tell your parents. By the time One Direction was booted off of the XFactor, you had a tiny belly poking out from underneath your work polo and when What Makes You Beautiful hit the radio waves, you were already a mother to a sweet boy, blue eyes like his father, but a peaceful baby who magically always slept through the night.

The whole time you were pregnant, Louis kept in touch with you, via phone call, Skype dates, and text messages. You never told him though. He was always so happy and you didn’t want to put a pin to his balloon. Also, at your young age, you were so scared he would get upset and just leave you high and dry. It was easier this way or so you had convinced yourself. You broke up with via voice mail a few days after he was booted off the show, but already in California working on a debut album with his new band. He called you back and apologized for how his life had changed too quickly for either of you to adjust your relationship, but you didn’t say much in response.

Manchester was large. You really thought by moving out of your old neighborhood, finally with enough saved to leave your parent’s basement, that you had depleted the risk of running into any of Louis’s family substantially. There had been a couple close calls back when Leo was still a small baby. You actually hid in the washroom of an ASDA when you spotted one of his sister’s down aisle 9 while you were in the shop on an emergency baby formula run.

However, your luck had run out and when you returned back to the neighborhood for your dad’s big birthday celebration, the first person you ran into was Johannah Tomlinson. She herself had just had twins and she was sitting with her friend, Anne, in the diner you had worked at growing up with her babies. As soon as she saw you, she jumped up with a scream and ran over with her arms extended at her sides. After she relinquished you from a tight hug, she was just about to ask how you had been when her eyes locked with Leo’s. She knew he was Louis’s son right away. There was no way that he couldn’t be when he looked just like her eldest son had when he was a four year old, right down to the firework eyes.

With his hands clasped together tightly and then being held even tighter between his locked knees, Louis sat pale as Casper on the edge of his mother’s couch in her living room, sandwiched between her and the arm of the chair, watching the small boy, a real life version of his childhood polaroid, on the floor with a plastic plate of crackers and cheese slices, watching Finding Nemo.

“Does he know?” Swallowing around the question, Louis barely managed to ask. He sounded as if he was just barely squeezing air out of his lungs.

“No. I don’t think so.” Johannah shook her head, putting down two freshly brewed cups of tea on the coffee table in front of her and her oldest, watching her instant grandson as he sat up straight and chuckled over the turtles on the television.

“What did she say?” Louis asked, his eyes never leaving the side of Leo’s face. He thought if he stared long enough it would start to feel real, but so far he still felt dizzy.

“That she was young and scared and you were on the show….” Johannah shrugged, picking up her teacup and blowing over it lightly. “Don’t concentrate on the past. It happened. I know you never wanted to be an absentee father since you know what that’s like, so here’s your chance, it’s late, but it’s here…what are you going to do?” Her eyes were firm on his profile, narrowing in on his stubble. He was a man now and she couldn’t force him to do things the way she had when he was about Leo’s age, so she just sat there and hoped for the best, hoped he wouldn’t let her down.

“I’m going to throw up.” After a moment of thinking about nothing at all, Louis revealed and bowed his head down in front of him.

“Do you want a cracker?” Leo asked, his face away from the hypnotizing colors of the TV and on the man who had come over to visit. “My mum gives them to me when I’m sick.” He offered over his plate, barely able to reach the coffee table from where he was planted on the ground.

Meekly, Louis smiled back and then shifted his gaze to his mother only to earn an assuring nod from her. He pushed himself off of the couch and rounded it’s corner carefully before sitting down beside his mini me.

“Thank you.” Politely, he nodded and took one of the crackers from the plate and bit into it, the two boys turning their blue gleams away from one another in order to watch the rest of the movie together.


After your publicist was fired, you expected this was going to happen. She had threatened it before her position was terminated due to very suspicious activity with the company credit card, but you couldn’t just crumble due to her accusations. You stood your ground and decided, like everything else that life had thrown at you, you would handle it with your feet on the ground and spine intact.

She had gone on trashy daytime talk shows, spewing about your private life like a pissed off little sister, there was even talk of her having a tell all book about you ghost written. While your legal team was working on shutting her smear campaign down, you only wanted one thing and that was for her to stop talking about your son. She could say what she wanted about your fashion line. You had built it from a t-shirt company in a pop up shop in Birmingham to the massive casual wear line it was today. There was no way some angry jilted assistant could ruin what took you years to build overnight. It didn’t really bother you when she called you a bitch or insisted that you were hard to work for. The rest of your staff, the loyal employees who worked passionately around the clock, seemed to like you and considering what your company was worth, you were confident that the way you ran your business was working. Landon was off limits though. Every time you read or heard something she said about your toddler, you could feel a vein grow right in the center of your forehead.

The phone kept ringing, it sounded like police sirens now, as you sat on the floor of your office pinning a fabric stencil to your gray mannequin. While your fingers were working diligently, your head wasn’t even in the building. Sounds like a muffle down the hall, you could hear your secretary right outside your door, trying her best to convince the person on the other end that you weren’t in. Unfortunately, the person on the other line knew you all too well.

“[Y/N]?” Sweet as sugar and as nervous as a man about to propose to the women out of his league, your secretary poked her head through the crack of the door and it’s frame, watching you for signs of your current mood. “It’s Mr. Horan again. He says if I offer to take a message one more time that he will climb through the phone and shit on my desk.” As if it was one of her morning notes for a marketing meeting, she quoted clearly.

Sighing, you could almost hear his Irish accent in your ear, fast as it was when he grew angry. You supposed that you couldn’t ignore him forever.

“That stupid bitch.” Under your breath, thinking of your former publicist, you muttered before scratching at your forehead with a freshly broken nail. “Put him through.” Finally, you looked up and nodded at her. She had already taken six messages of him and then “accidentally” hung up on him two times.

Preparing yourself, you took your time to answer Niall’s call. You shut the door behind you, locking it, and then strolled around the small room before sitting down at your desk, adjusting your skirt until it was straight over your legs without a crease to speak of. Folding your fingers together, you cracked your knuckles all at once and then your neck before reaching down to take the phone off of the receiver.

“Hello Niall.” There was no reason to play pretend or coy. You both knew what conversation was about to be had.

“Tell me this girl on Entertainment Tonight is lying.” He demanded, firmly, and you could hear the lump in his throat as he swallowed.

Niall was sat in his living room, right in front of his computer monitor, and watching the same interview the rest of the world had been for two days. It crossed your mind to play oblivious, but you knew he wouldn’t buy for a second that you didn’t know your dirty laundry was being aired all over the globe.

“Well, I think she is grossly exaggerating when she calls me a raging bitch. I think I’m just firm.” You pushed your chair to the side with your shoulders, crossing your ankles on the floor in front of you and then mindlessly looking out the window to the busy London street that was being washed by afternoon rain. “But everything else is true.” You wanted to just sound normal and calm about it, but that didn’t seem to make it feel any more normal or calm. In preparation for Niall’s reaction, you shut your eyes and clenched down on your teeth behind closed lips, holding your breath in a knot behind your ribs.

“How could you not fucking tell me that I have a son?!” Niall hissed loudly, the wheels of his computer chair pushing back as he jumped up onto his feet, the phone burning his ear. He sounded more hurt than livid and you were surprised. Angry was the expectation. You thought he might let out a smattering of four lettered words and join your publicist in calling you a bitch, but Niall actually sounded as if his heart had been punctured by being lied to. “What the Hell is wrong with you?”

While you were successful, your life wasn’t designed like Niall’s. You could go anywhere you wanted without being photographed just as you could go anywhere you wanted and be photographed. The life of a designer came with whatever level of privacy you chose while Niall’s life seemed to be open to the public like a tourist attraction. Your relationship had been so private and brief that when you two broke up, you could go into hiding. He wasn’t able to keep very accurate tabs on you via Google. It had been a clean break up though. It was mutual. Your lives were both on the verge, but headed in different directions, you were expanding your brand into a North American market and he was about to go on his first ever tour. If it had him who was carrying a baby, everyone would have known.

You didn’t keep Landon a secret though. With his hand in yours just last year, People magazine posted a picture online of you two leaving a karate school where you had been considering enrolling him in weekend classes. There had been chatter amongst the fashion industry when your pregnancy became too obvious to even try to hide. You just never made a call to Niall. He could have known sooner had he really paid attention.

“You wanted to be a father at 18? You wanted me to say ‘I know you’re about go on tour, but I need you to drop that and get a job at an Ikea because I’m pregnant with your child’?”

“Don’t. Don’t make it sound like I owe you a fucking thank you card!” He snarled, his anger in the driver’s seat now and his foot pushing the gas to the floor. “I had a right to know!”

Niall was pacing back and forth behind his television, his brain thirsty for a solution, while the rest of his body ached for a strong pint. He couldn’t believe you. You had been his first love, he never said a bad word about you or let anyone, but now to find out this had been going on, that he had brought a child onto the planet unknowingly, Niall was a wreck. He stopped himself as his eyes noticed his screen again, the video stopping on a still frame of young Landon, his blue eyes the same shape and shade as Niall’s, and his smile mischievous. In the picture, he was wearing an Ireland jersey and Niall’s heart actually forced his chest to cave inward in pain.

“I had a right to know…” Again, he said, but this time he murmured it sadly. He felt guilty somehow because though he kept thinking to himself that he would have been there for Landon had he known, he would have dropped everything and been a present father, Niall wasn’t actually convinced that he would have and it upset him.

“We were so young, Niall. What Makes You Beautiful had just come out, no one knew what was going to become of you guys, and I, at least, had security. I was working at the time.” Granted, you were still just a young adult with a t shirt company, but you still had some real income to your name. “And we had broken up. You might feel like I betrayed you somehow, but I had every right to do this my way and I stand by it.” You tried to explain yourself, but part of you wondered if Niall would understand. He was the hottest hothead you knew. When you two had been together, he only ever heard what he wanted to hear.

“You didn’t have any right!” He argued loudly. It was as if he was right beside you, shouting with his fists curled by his side. “You know one day Landon’s going to ask you, why the fuck is my dad not around, and you’re going to have look him in the eye when you say because you didn’t fucking let him be!” Akin to a lion’s roar, Niall raged on the other side.

“When that day comes, Niall, I’ll let him know that his father wasn’t ready to be a father, which I didn’t need to ask if you were ready to know that you weren’t!” Standing up behind your desk, your one empty palm pressing down into it’s surface as you grew clammy with defense. “Why are you calling? Do you want to an apology? Because I’m not going to apologize for how I’ve raised my boy. I’m damn proud of myself!”

“I called because I figured if I have a son out there, I want to see him…” He peeped, hopeful that you would allow him to. He didn’t want to fight, but he would if he had to. Niall didn’t think he had it in him to walk around on the same planet as his own kid and never acknowledge him. He couldn’t be a deadbeat even if he wanted to, it just wasn’t the kind of man Bobby Horan had raised him to be. The rain was the only thing he could hear now as you had gone silent at his desire. It crossed your mind that Niall would be anxious to meet Landon, but you were protective over your only child as a mother lion to her pride. Niall listened to the weather and stared, eyes dilated wide until they looked bloodshot, at the frame of Landon on his computer screen. “[Y/N]?” He checked in.

“I’m still here.” You had sat yourself down again, holding your head in your hand. “He has karate tonight at six.”


“Shotokan. In Westminister.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Great.” You deadpanned. “I’ll transfer you back to my secretary. You can apologize for scaring her and she’ll give you the address.” Before Niall could say another word, you dialed the extension for your secretary and instantly leaned over your desk to gasp for air. For the entire conversation, you felt as if you had been holding your breath in.

Sitting inside of the small, sweaty gym club, you sat at the very back of Landon’s karate class, cell phone tight in your hand as your legs were crossed over the plastic fold out chair. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to make friends with the parents of the other children, but you were missing and you only came for Landon and to watch him. He was currently sitting with the rest of the class, listening intently to their master as they did at the beginning of every class.

He looked more like Niall today than usual. Probably because you had spent some of the afternoon listening to your ex on the phone, sounding more like a man than he ever did when you two were together.

Class had begun twelve minutes ago, but there was no sign of Niall. You wondered if he was held back by work or, maybe, he had cold feet. You kept looking up and out the large wall window by the entrance, but a black SUV was blocking your view of the road or any traffic. This time when you looked up, you spotted Niall, flustered with his hands tossing his blond hair constantly standing up against the car door of the SUV. He looked good, but he looked nervous and, for a moment, you swore you were both teenagers again, fumbling your way around one another in the empty bath tub at the hotel party. He was wrestling with himself outside, not sure if he should go in or not. There was a bag in his hand, a bright yellow party bag, but Niall stared into it and then turned around to put it back on the seat of the car. After closing the door again, Niall strolled over to the entrance, staring into the class through the window. His blue eyes scanned the group of ten kids for his boy, hoping he would recognize him right away, but Niall was pulled away by two girls with hopeful smiles and their cell phones at the ready like weapons. You watched as two girls turned into twenty in just a matter of minutes, chaos growing outside and knew that Niall wasn’t going to be coming in at any point. You thought that maybe it was better that way.


Harry! Harry! Harry!

It was another typical morning for Harry Styles, people shouting his name as if it was a regular salutation all around the world. Cameras were out in full force, bulbs flashing. He was used to photographers and fans waiting outside of a hotel for him for days, but the reporters were a strange and largely unwelcomed changed. In typical Harry fashion, he greeted them with a smile and polite wave as he followed security and Liam out, Louis and Niall behind him along with other security and Zayn.

“Harry, are you the father of [Y/N]’s baby?” A male reporter eagerly asked, his large camera nearly smacking others around him in the head. His question was followed by a sea of similar ones, all asking about you and the recent photo of you so obviously pregnant. It would make sense for him to be the father as you two had only just broken up four months prior, but the relationship had become so tumultuous by the end of it that Harry figured since you never called him to tell him that it must not have been.

“No. ‘Fraid not.” He shrugged simply and prayed his answer would spread like wildfire and fan the flames away from him. When he slid into the car, right next to Liam in the very back, he opened up his cell phone and googled your name. It was everywhere.

Harry Styles & [Y/N]: Baby Daddy Drama, Harry Styles Fathers [Y/N]’s Baby & Leaves, HARRY STYLES BABY SCANDAL

Still, Harry had convinced himself that if he was the father, you would have called him. Someone would make it clear to him. Secrets always seemed to have a way of never staying very secret in his life.

Like all rumors, it died down and Harry happily went on with his life. When you did give birth, five months after all the chaos, he was asked again about you and the baby, but he simply wished you all the best while looking into the camera lens at a red carpet event, even blowing a kiss to it. It was impossible for him to avoid after all since you two were a high profile couple for the year and a half you were together. He as one fifth of the world’s biggest boy band and you as the television actress turned female superhero franchise star.

Back in Los Angeles, training rigorously to get back into superhero shape, you stayed at the Chateau Marmont. Your house was supposed to be ready for you to move in, but of course it wasn’t and you were left to stay at the hotel with your three month old daughter. Harry checked in along with three friends and his sister for a week and the first thing they did once their bags were in the room was go down to the pool to lounge and make as much noise as they could. In a private cabana, protecting Posey’s skin from harsh UVA rays, you watched while holding your daughter to your chest. You had completely forgotten about the script you should have been studying, your eyes on Harry’s inked up chest as he splashed around in the pool, tossing a ball back and forth engaged in a game of monkey in the middle.

As Posey began to wake up on your stomach, stirring ever so slightly, you went back to running your hand over her head and down her back. A thunk took your attention back to the side and you spotted the small soaked ball roll into your tent. You sat up instantly, holding Posey right up to your breasts as if they were a mobile bed for her, and rested your toes on the cool covered cement. You were about to stand up to retrieve the ball, but Harry appeared right before you, standing in the entrance way and dripping like the leaves of a palm tree after a downpour.

“Oh my God, [Y/N]!” He called out, his eyes popping out at the sight of you. You looked different, peaceful, but still as beautiful as you were when he met you way back when. He stepped in closer to hug you, but stopped himself due to how dry you were and wet he was. “Is that the famous Posey?” He whispered, dropping his jaw and stepping closer to see the baby in your hands.

“Yes. This is she.” You met him right in front of the small coffee table with your script and water on it, bringing your tired daughter away from your body in order for him to get a real close look at her large doll eyes and extra small pink lips.

“She’s beautiful.” He told you truthfully, his breath taken away for a moment. “I cannot believe you’re a mother.” Seeing you now, it felt as if only yesterday you walked out on him after you just couldn’t stand the arguments anymore. “It’s crazy.”

“It happens.” Without any answer to give him, you shrugged.

“You know when your pregnancy was announced, everyone thought I was the father.” He laughed, simply making playful conversation with you. He stepped out of the cabana tent for a moment, tossing the ball to his friends in the pool and then went back to what he was saying with you. “It was absolutely nuts. I almost thought I was for a second.” Chuckling harder, he told you. “Is the dad in the picture? I hope it’s okay for me to ask.”

“He’s not actually.” Just as casually, you answered back and walked away from Harry to lie your daughter down in her bassinette by the lounge chair you had been sprawled out on before. “I always thought he would call when the reporters asked and his name was all over the papers, but he didn’t.” Blankly, you stared at him all while holding your breath and watching Harry nod. His chin picked up pace surely and you could tell his wheels were turning. “Come on, Harry, don’t act like you never knew.”

“What!?” He hissed at you as loudly as he could without shouting. “How could I have known? You didn’t tell me!? Did the post lose all the letters you sent? Did I miss all the calls? You didn’t even send me a fucking God damn fruit basket!” In the end of yours and Harry’s relationship, there had been no shortage of fighting, but this was the angriest you had ever seen him. It looked as if even his butterfly tattoo wanted to fly away from him.

Instantly at the tension and loud noise, Posey began to cry. You wasted no time bending at the knees to pick her up and cradle her softly in your arms, shushing her melodically and ignoring Harry standing there while you tried to calm her down.

“I can’t believe this…I can’t believe this…” He kept muttering over and over, holding his forehead and moving all the wet hair off of it with one hand. “I can’t believe you.” Harry kept going, unable to look you in the eye now.

“Can you wait til I’m done with one child, please?” It always stressed you out when Posey fussed. Your heart would hurt regardless of how tired you felt. Her cries caused you physical pain and all you wanted was to be a source of comfort to her.

“Were you ever going to fucking tell me?”

“I assumed that you knew and didn’t care, Harry.” Very clearly, you told him with your eyes burning into his profile as he was staring off at the pool. He just kept thinking that if the ball hadn’t been thrown too high and rolled into your cabana that he would still be playing monkey in the middle without any idea that he had a child on the planet. Posey was his daughter.

“That fucking hurts me, you know?” He swallowed hard, lifting up his chest and trying too seem proud as he knew he was about to expose all his vulnerabilities. “We may have ended on a bad note, but you know I would care and I would want to be there and you fucking took that from me. Why?” He looked devastated, the same expression he wore the first time you said you wanted to end things, but he had convinced you to stay that time. “Were you trying to punish me?”

“I was scared, Harry. You were already in tabloids dancing with models. You had moved on and I was three months along when I found out…I wasn’t trying to punish you, I was trying to keep my world from falling apart.”

Posey had finally taken to her pacifier that was pinned to her sundress, sucking on it and staying quiet. Instead of putting her back down, you sat on the lounge chair and held her like a safety blanket. She had been unexpected and terrifying, but in the end, she was the reason you were doing so well these days.

Harry took a seat on the wicker bench nearby, keeping a distance and just watching you, the mother of his child and his new baby.

“I want to be around. I better be on all the paperwork. She’s mine and we’re going to work something out. I’m not spending any more time away.” He nodded with every thought, stating them all very matter of factly.

“Don’t you want to talk to your managers?”

“Fuck them. Nobody is keeping me from my kid, not even you.” Harry’s eyes were so serious that you had no choice, but to take him that way. “How long are you in LA for? I start shooting next week and I’ll need a hand.” You had a nanny for the days, but you really had dreamed of parenting without hired help.

“I’m here as long as I need to be here.” Harry confirmed. He scooted closer to the end of the bench, reaching over to touch her, but pulling his fingers back before he could. “I’ll wait til I’m dry.” He said, buying himself some time to really understand how his life was about to change.


anonymous asked:

Cs friends from childhood but secretly loving each other. One night the get drunk and get laid. The morning after they talk about feelings and decide to start a relationship? Extra points if killian brings her breakfast in bed for the hangover.

A gentle tap, tap, tap sounded on Emma’s bedroom window jarred Emma from the book that sat open in her lap. She squinted at the window as a face appeared from the darkness of night, blue eyes flashing with a devilish grin.

Emma laughed as she rose from her bed and opened the window, bracing her arms against the ledge.

“Killian Jones, what are you doing here?”

“Move aside Swan, you think it’s easy to climb a trellis?” Killian said, pretending to lose his grip for a moment. “What will you do if I die?”

Emma laughed as she moved out of the way, allowing Killian to hoist his tall form through the window. He was dressed in his signature black leather jacket, white shirt and worn out blue jeans, his Doc Martens clunked audibly as he landed. He winced, freezing as he await for Emma’s father to ce bursting in.

“They’re out, genius. Or did you not see the missing truck in the drive?”

“Actually, I was busy trying to gouge whether or not intrude on you while you were changing.” Killian said with a smile as he threw himself onto her bed, sending her book on the floor. “No such luck.”

Emma pretended not hear him-even though the very idea of Killian wanting to see her unclothed or half clothed sent her heart racing. But her mind berated her heart for such a foolish feeling. Killian was a playboy-he’d sleep with anything with the desirable parts-and feelings had little to do with sex when it came to him.

Pain struck her. Sometimes she really hated being in love with Killian Jones.

Killian watched as Emma crouched down, picking up the book he had knocked aside. Her long blond hair was down for once instead of that no nonsense ponytail she tended to wear. She was in a black tank top and sleeping shorts that showed off her long creamy white legs.

Killian fought the urge to grab her and throw her down on the bed. She was gorgeous. He wanted to kiss her dumb, strip her bare and love her until dawn.

Killian gave himself a mental shake. Only in his fantasies could he have a girl like Emma. Yes, they were long time best friends since childhood, but she was still out of his reach. She was pure and good-Killian was as dark and tainted as they came.

She had a future far beyond sleepy old Storybrooke. And Killian doubted he’d leave this tiny town. He pushed away the damning thoughts, plastered a smile on his face and reached into his jacket pocket.

“I brought us a little something,” he said as he withdrew a silver flask. “To celebrate.”

Emma gave him a wry smile as she plopped down at the foot of the bed.

“And what are we celebrating?”

Killian grinned as he uncapped the flask and extended it out to her.

“Why, your birthday of course. In a minute you’ll be a full grown woman, Swan; what’s not to celebrate?”

Emma laughed as she took the flask.

“Okay, but first, a toast,” Emma lifted the flask.“To our thirteen year friendship, I couldn’t wish for a better mate.”

Emma took a long swing of the rum, Killian watched her throat tense as it traveled down. His thoughts wandered to a darker place where his teeth and lips played with that throat.

“Here,” Emma said, extending the flask to him.

“Here,here,” Killian said as he took a swing himself.

He needed to get smashed.

A warm hand was caressing her naked back, and it felt amazing. Emma sighed and snuggled against the warm form at her side, her own hand come up to touch a hair coated chest.


Emma opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a naked stomach, flat and muscled, her blanket was barely covering his … stuff. Her gaze went up over the wide hairy chest, to a strong throat, to a beard covered jaw, wide, kissable lips and to….

Oh lord. Killian.

Emma sat up quickly, hugging her blanket to her naked chest.


Both of them.

Emma glanced around and saw her room was a mess. Books were on the floor, their clothes were scattered everywhere.

Killian sighed next to her, his arm looping around her waist and drawing her close. Emma’s face flamed, her heart racing.

“Kil-Killian?"she croaked, poking him gently on the shoulder. His very muscular shoulder.

"Emma,” he sighed, as he buried his face in her side.

“Killian Jones!” Emma smacked his chest.

“Ow!” Killian’s eyes snapped open.

And froze as he saw Emma. He sat up quickly, the blanket slipping a few inches. Emma’s eyes widened.

Oh my.

Killian cursed, drawing the blanket back up to cover himself.

“Emma … How … What happened…?”

“I’d think it was obvious,” Emma said deadpanned.

“Shit,” he said as he smacked his knee.

“You…you’re angry?”

“Of course Im angry! I’m angry at myself! I took advantage of you! I got you drunk and we-bloody hell, don’t cry Emma!”

Emma wiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry but…Killiab Im not sorry it happened. I … I have always liked you more than a friend.”

“What?” Killian said stilling as her words sunk in.

“I’ve always wanted more-want this,” she gestured at the two of them. “But I thought … I thought you’d never see me in that way, or if you did it wouldn’t mean anything to you.”

“Wouldn’t mean any-?! Emma this-bloody hell how dense are you, Swan?”

Killian reached over and placed a searing kiss on her lips so that when he pulled away, her eyes were heavy and her lips were pump.

“I’ve been crazy for you since … Bloody hell, since we were five!” He confessed as he stroked her hair. “I love you, this means everything to me!”

“It does? You do?”

Killian chuckled as he kissed her again.

“Don’t doubt me now,” he said before dropping another kiss on her lips. “How ‘bout some breakfast?”

“Breakfast?” Emma echoed, as though the word were a forgein language.

Killian grinned as he drew her back down to the bed.

“Or we could skip breakfast….”