#and they were like (radio silence) and disappeared.... like ok hope you have an awful day actually!!

[risoria]

27/7 Verifying Palestinian fundraisers! I received an ask about vetting fundraisers - it's not something I am able to do personally since I don't speak Arabic and am not from the region, but I looked through some blogs on here to compile a sort of resource list of people who verify fundraisers at the moment! On tumblr: -> @ 90-ghost - is from Palestine -> sar-soor - from what I understand she is able to help -> northgazaupdates - from what I understand they're able to help Inactive: blogs who used to vet fundraisers but whose blogs are inactive right now OR who don't take requests for fundraiser verification right now: @ nabulsi, @ el-shab-hussein, @ fairuzfan Important!! @ ibtisams was active and verified fundraisers on here but had a situation where a scammer made a fake blog of them and now the url ibtisams is active again since 22/7 and is LIKELY a scam based on their posts - which means people can't send new fundraisers to get verified to this blog!! If anyone has more information on this please feel free to message me or add to this post. On instagram:

-> @ pali.pals, i will put their info below!

I would also just like to add that please remember that a lot of people from Palestine have made their blogs specifically to fundraise and thus have no other content on here, and a lot of people are not fluent in English. They also have scarce access to internet because of blackouts and displacement and are also just trying every day to survive it to the next.

There are of course also some people who DO have a social media presence from before oct 7th, so you CAN go to people's individual tumblrs or instagram account and look through the archives and verify fundraisers that way for yourself if you're comfortable with that!

Please if you have any more resources for verifying Palestinian gofundmes, add them below!

[karlnapity]

(tw: derealization, panic attack)

Fundy hasn’t been doing well for a long time. That much is obvious.

It’s rather common knowledge, really. Poor Fundy, poor kid who’s lost his dad, poor kid who hasn’t recovered since, all that.

Poor kid who was given a wide berth, and has since then lost his friends from lack of attention.

Niki will be the first to admit she’s neglected her friendship, and it eats her alive. She abandoned him, when he needed her, and he still needs her, but he still scares her, just a bit, still sets her on edge.

She can remember when he first told her about Ghostbur. He was near hysterical, still unchanged from the clothes destroyed by the explosion on the Sixteenth. He burst into her home, shaking, telling her with a frightening little laugh that he’d seen him, and she thought he’d lost it, for lack of a better term.

But she let him indulge in his fantasy, because he looked terrible, and she was worried about what he’d do if he knew it wasn’t real.

So she let him rant about the arguments he had with this “ghost,” let him talk in circles about it, offered meaningless insight here and there.

But there was only so much she could take. She couldn’t tell him, but she still couldn’t just listen to him talk all day long about a man she’d rather forget.

So yes, maybe she did abandon him.

She ran far, started her own path, her own journey. Forgot about Wilbur, forgot about L’Manburg, focused on Tommy, and Jack, and tried her very, very best to ignore the nagging voice in the back of her head that told her to check up on him.

And then she met Ghostbur, and everything came crashing down.

Was Fundy right all along? Because she couldn’t have gotten it wrong, he was out of it, he was worrying her, he was fucking crazy. Did Ghostbur being real change anything?

And she knew she needed to see him again. It had been long enough, she’d gotten it together, she’d gone through her own damn breakdown, and she had to see whether he was ok, too.

So here she stands, in front of his house. When she asked around, it seems it’s been radio silent, but she won’t be deterred. She's determined when she wants to be.

She knocks, hesitantly, but when there’s no response she grows impatient, bangs harder. Still nothing. Is he not home, or something?

After yet more silence, she tries the door. Unlocked. She pushes in.

It’s a mess. Everything is scattered, furniture knocked over and paper lying on every available surface. She can smell ink in the air, almost hovering over the room.

And in the middle of it all, in bed, lies Fundy. The covers lay over him haphazardly, and a blanket sits on the ground next to the bed.

She feels an awful lot like she’s intruding, as she watches him twist and turn in a seeming nightmare. She sighs, and goes to get a mug of water for him, submitting the fact she’ll have to wait for him to wake up.

He looks terrible, she thinks, as she peers at him out of the corner of her eye. He seems to have lost weight since she last saw him, and she can’t ignore the dark circles under his eyes. His fur seems unkempt, something she’s never seen before. He’s always taken pride in it before.

She looks around the house. The papers she sees have ‘diary’ scribbled across the top, and even if she’s concerned, she won’t invade his privacy like that. Instead, she simply leaves them alone, opting to instead tidy what she can.

She throws open a window, hoping to air out the fumes and brighten up the place. It feels oppressive.

He makes a noise in his sleep, and she turns to see him curled in a ball, ears pressed flat to his head. She sympathizes.

When he lets out a whimper, she considers, briefly, waking him, but remembers how she almost lost a hand the last time, and sighs, pulls a broom from a closet.

She accidentally knocks over a pile of paper, and quickly goes to right it. The writing isn’t legible, so she doesn’t worry about reading it, but the scribbling in the margins and the vicious crossing out sets her heart pattering anxiously.

This is worse than she had feared. Anxiety creeps up her spine, leaves her biting a nail, peeking at the bed.

And he starts awake.

He’s breathing heavy, the rasps and gasps the only noise in the house.

He lifts a clawed hand to his chest, trying to catch his breath. She doesn’t dare move as he puts his hands over his face, brushing fur out of his face. His breathing slows, after what feels like hours.

She clears her throat, gently, and he jumps. They catch eyes.

Guilt settles heavy in her chest. He looks half-dead, the crazed look in his eyes incomparable to what she worried about months ago.

“Hi,” she says carefully. He tenses as she leans the broom against a wall, and yet more as she pulls a chair up to his bed and settles. “How’s it going?”

His eyes flit desperately over her face, seemingly searching for something. Whatever it is, he doesn’t find it, and he instead shifts to sit straighter. “I’m ok. Just a dream.”

She nods. Trust is a two-way street, and it’s worth being a little vulnerable. “I used to have these nightmares where I’d have to lock myself up so I didn’t do anything. I get it.”

His face pinches, and she has a feeling he didn’t absorb any of what she said. He stands, practically sprints to the doorway, peers out. He lets out an audible sigh of relief, leans against the door as he closes it.

He fixes her in the eye. “Can you go now? I need to write stuff down.”

She can’t stop a frown from appearing. “I’m sorry?”

“Can you go now?” He repeats, slower, as if she hadn’t understood.

“I, uh. I wanted to talk to you. Catch up. It’s been a while.” She stands, watches him.

“Ok, well, I need you to go. I have shit to do,” he says, gathering a quill and a few sheets of paper. He scribbles something down.

“What are you writing?” She asks. He grits his teeth.

“It’s important. I can’t tell you.” His voice grows higher with desperation.

“Fundy,” she says, quietly, pleadingly.

He whirls to face her. He’s squeezing his quill in his hand, and ink is already coating his hands and arms. He drops it, raises his hands to his hand and lets out a keen. “Stop...”

Any doubts she had have been erased. He needs help.

She steps forward, envelops him in a careful hug. He clings to her, hands roaming over her back and shoulders as if he’s afraid she’ll disappear.

“Are you really here?” He whispers, and her heart hurts.

“Yes, yes,” she murmurs in response. They sink to the floor. Fundy hiccups.

He starts to laugh. It’s broken, angry, upset, devastated, but he laughs, and he doesn’t stop.

He doesn’t stop, even when he starts to sob, even when he coats Niki’s shirt with tears, even when his voice is growing rough from overuse, even when she begs him, silently, to stop, to be quiet, because he does still scare her.

But eventually, he seems to give up. He lays limply in her arms, his breath still hitching from crying. She pets his fur, working out the small mats with her fingers.

“Please talk to me,” she begs for what seems to be the hundredth time.

“I have. These dreams.” His voice stops and starts, as if he’s not sure if he should say anything, but she nods, encouraging him to continue. “I saw Wilbur, and I saw me, and these stupid fucking books keep telling me I’m in danger, and they’re from me, and there’s this person trying to get me, and. And. I don’t think I’m real, anymore.”

She shushes him as he starts to cry again. She wishes they were fucking qualified for this.

What right did this world ever have to break them this much?

“You’re real,” she promises. “They’re just dreams, ok?”

He shakes his head, desperately. His voice is hysterical. “They’re not just dreams, Niki, you have no idea what they can do, what they’ve done, you don’t know. They’re so much more than that.”

She pulls back, takes his face in her hands. His fur is wet, stained from tears, and his eyes are crazed, and she can tell he isn’t completely there. She holds his snout gently, rubs circles with her thumbs, and his eyes close a bit in comfort.

“They’re just dreams, I promise.” She presses a kiss, gently, on his forehead. “They trick you like that.”

He shakes his head. “The desert-”

“Shh. Come on.” She pulls him to his feet, looping an arm around his shoulders. She guides him to the door, and they peer out together. “There’s no desert, ok?”

He nods, hesitantly. She grins, and they drags him out on a walk.

He looks pale in the sunlight, desaturated, somehow even more unhealthy. The weather is wonderful, but he’s still almost crouched, flinching at every noise. She tells herself it’s good for him.

They walk to her new base, and he protests every step of the way. He tells her he needs to write down the dreams, he tells her that someone is still coming for him, he tells her about Wilbur and a younger Fundy and books written by him, and she tries very, very hard to convince herself he’s ok, just upset.

Grieving is an easy excuse, but it’s the only excuse she’s got.

Once inside her base, HBomb greets them, and Niki shakes her head, just a little, when he turns to Fundy. HBomb purses his lip, a concerned look already on his face at simply the sight of their friend, but lets them pass.

She’s showing him around when it happens. He’s finally relaxing a bit, his claws no longer clenched, his ears no longer flat, when he makes a sort of gasp behind her.

She turns to see him with a hand to his head, stumbling for support against the wall.

He fixes her with the most terrified look she’s seen in her life, and her blood goes cold. He reaches for her, and she grasps him.

“It’s happening,” he hisses, and his legs give out. She follows him to the ground, holds him close.

“What is?” She asks, concern tinting her voice.

“He’s coming,” he murmurs, and passes out cold.

She reminds herself, steadfast, as she and HBomb help him to a bed, that it’s just a dream, even as he twists and turns and whimpers.

It’s just a dream.

[orionares]

BTHB: Comatose, Part 3

---------------------------------------------- The tears come easily. 

For the next hour or many, Elliot lets the tears fall for everything in the nine month battle against William Lewis. 

He cries for the pain- the cigarette burns, the days without sleep, food  or water, the trial, the damn Russian Roulette. His heart shatters at the dangerous possibility of Lewis inflicting the one trauma they had spent over a decade fighting against together. 

When he runs out of tears, Elliot lays his head on the edge of the bed and blocks out the cacophony of nurses, doctors and staff working busily in the hall. There’s a throbbing headache that builds with every passing second of the truly dark, guilt fueled thoughts itching to spill over. 

He’s already inches above the abyss; he can’t let this push him over.

“You know,” Elliot whispers, “I didn’t have any plans of how we’d discuss why I left. Writing the letter wasn't an impulse, but giving you the letter after Kathy’s death. Now, I- I wish I could rewrite it.”

He pauses to wipe the sudden heat from his face. “I- I would say that you shouldn’t forgive me. You shouldn’t, Liv. I don’t deserve- I…”

The stress induced twitch that Eli had identified during the failed intervention returns as Elliot twitches while pushing away the same dark thought that’s repeated in his mind since opening the file- This is on you.

A knock on the door breaks into his thoughts and he lifts his head to see Fin standing at the door, eyes flickering between Olivia and him. 

“She’s fine,” Elliot yells out. “I, uh, know about Lewis.”

“Damn,” Fin mutters under his breath. He shakes his head before closing the room door closed behind him. The sergeant’s fatigue is clear as he moves slowly to an open chair on the opposing side and lowers himself down slowly. “Rollins tell you?”

Elliot glances back to Olivia. “You didn’t tell me about it.” 

“Because it wasn’t something to say over the phone,” Fin shrugs, “and it wasn’t my story to tell. I wasn’t going to say You're alive and coming back? Great! By the way, Liv almost died while you were gone.” 

“I think I had created some imaginative world of where she moved on but was ok while I was overseas. And then I’d created another fantasy where things settled and I’d close the case on Kathy’s murder and we’d,” Elliot reach out and rests his hand on Olivia’s, “reconnect. I’d beg, plead and woo my way back in earning her trust. And now-”

“Elliot, you screwed up,” Fin states, maintaining his calm demeanor, “You have your reasons for going radio silence and I get that, but it doesn’t change the fact that you abandoned her. And with Lewis- blaming yourself for what happened isn’t going to change the fact that it happened.”  

Elliot opens his mouth to respond but Fin continues without missing a beat. “You think that you're the only one feeling guilty about that day? I was here, Stabler, and I still blame myself for what happened.”

Elliot nods weakly as Fin stands and circles the edge of the bed. The detective winces when Fin rests a hand on his shoulder and asks, “You are staying, right?” 

The answer catches in his throat, leaving him left with another weak nod. 

“Do you love her?” 

“Am I that obvious?” Elliot chuckles. Fin rolls his eyes and repeats his question, “You love her?”

“Yeah.” Every time he says it aloud, finally admitting  his love for Olivia, somehow brings a mixture of relief and guilt. 

“So fight for her,” Fin advises. He pats her shoulder and heads for the door, calling for his shoulder, “Start by going home, getting something to eat and see your kids. And if you can’t bring yourself to leave, at least go get something to eat. Alright?” 

---------------------------------------------------------------------

She dreams of life as ‘the other woman.’

In this possibility, she meets Kathy in a cafe while dropping off Eli; however, unlike the handful of times she had met Kathy with Eli in reality, the usually hidden tension between them is out on the surface. She still has Noah, now no older than two years old. He's sitting in her lap babbling happily as the two women sit across from each other in thick silence. 

Kathy fiddles with her coffee mug in her hands and avoids eye contact with Olivia. Her jaw is clenched, highlighting the tension across her face. 

"Eli had a great week with us," Olivia stammers to Kathy, who puts up a hand to cut her off. Every weekend starts like this, the two women in Elliot Stabler's life staring each other down. 

"You don't have to play nice, Olivia," Kathy retorts.  She glances over her shoulder towards the bathroom where seven year old Eli has run off to. "You can just drop the kids off and then leave with your son. You certainly don't need to do it for me."

"But Elliot-"

"Elliot's gone, Olivia!" Kathy snaps. She pushes the cup to her left and ignores the drips of coffee that spills over the edge. "My husband chose you and my God, this arrangement of having to see you every other week feels like a jab in my heart!"

A jab in her heart.

She'd scream those words back at Kathy and plead for an understanding to her allowing Elliot to ghost her if she had the chance.

But Kathy had never believed Elliot had completely locked her out of their lives. Reality or not, to Kathy, she will always be the other woman.

The sound of Noah’s happy babbling disappears under the sudden ringing in Olivia’s ear. She isn't shifting seamlessly between possible outcomes like she had before- no, as the ringing intensifies, Noah, Kathy and the patrons of the small café disappear into darkness.

And for her? Olivia drifts into the darkness, unaware if she'll end up back in another possibility or back on solid ground. 

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Oh My God.”

His eyes widen at his daughter’s voice from the doorway. Elliot sighs and lifts his forehead from the soft edge of the bed to see Kathleen staring mouth agape at Olivia. 

And also Eli.

 His youngest has his head low with his hair covering his eyes. Eli appears hesitant to be near him as he’s been so since the car accident and the failed intervention over a month earlier. Kathleen leads him into the room, fighting off the tears forming in her eyes at the sight of Olivia. 

“Dad, I’m so sorry,” Kathleen sniffles. She approaches his side slowly and scans him head to toe with the same uneasiness and concern Kathy once would. “Is she- will she wake up?”

“They’ve weaned her off some medication that was allowing the brain to heal,” Elliot replies. He runs a hand over his face and then looks past his daughter to Eli. “Hey, Buddy.”

“We wanted to come by,” Kathleen explains with a quick glance to Eli warning- We came to this conclusion together, right ? Right? 

“Yeah, I should have come home,” Elliot stammers. He stands up before his body rocks slightly with fatigue. Kathleen immediately grabs his arm and guides him back down in his seat. 

“Dad, when was the last time you slept or gotten something to eat?” She asks. Eli’s eyes flicker with worry but he doesn’t move from the door frame. The fatigue that’s been at bay since speaking with Fin comes in the form of a tension headache. 

“I’ll grab something from the cafeteria downstairs,” Kathleen exclaims without a further word from her father. She quickly pulls off her grey peacoat jacket and lays it on the foot of the bed. Kathleen quickly walks over to the door, whispers something in Eli’s ear and is out the door before Elliot’s rattled brain realizes it. 

Eli takes a step closer to the bed and tucks his hand in his pocket. Half expecting him to pull out his cellphone, Elliot straightens up in his chair when his son instead stairs directly at Olivia with trepidation. 

“Did Mom like her?” Eli asks in a small voice. It’s one of the few rare times that Elliot’s heard Eli ask about his Mom directly since the funeral. That’s on me, he thinks anxiously. 

“She-uhm- I...your Mom and Oliva had a unique relationship,” Elliot states as blankly as he can. The conversation about the ‘other woman’ has been one that he’d hope to have years from now. “They got along-”

“Why did she keep asking about Olivia?” 

Elliot watches his son avoid eye contact with him, instead choosing to stare at his father’s hand, once more resting on top of Olivia’s. “Because your mother didn’t believe that I cut her off. Your mother was so good at hiding things from you about what had happened in New York. We tried our absolute hardest to build a life for you in Rome outside of the life we had in New York.” 

Eli takes another step closer, leaving an inch between the foot of the bed and himself. He opens his mouth and then shuts it, scrunching his nose while rethinking his next words. “Did you and Olivia break up?” 

“What?” Elliot exclaims. He snorts out a laugh and then mutters, “No, Eli. Olivia and I were never together. She respected your Mom, your siblings and you.” 

Elliot watches his son’s brow furrow in concentration just as Noah had done the night before. “Everyone kept talking about Olivia behind your guys’ back. I thought she was a story or a secret that we weren’t allowed to talk about. And then we came home,” Eli admits shyly, “ You look at her different than Mom.” 

The detective fidgets with his wedding band with his thumb and index finger, replaying the bits and pieces of the failed intervention that he can remember. His kids had gravitated to Olivia like muscle memory, especially Kathleen and even Eli, from his memory, had appeared somewhat trusting of the strange woman in the apartment. 

“Dad?” Eli’s voice breaks into his thoughts with awe, “You like her.” 

Elliot looks over to his unconscious ex-partner and sighs as he takes in the half inch cuts on her chin and forehead. Admitting the truth he’s dodged for two decades to his youngest feels like a betrayal without Kathy by his side. 

How does one tell their child- I stayed with your Mom even though I shouldn’t have? 

He flinches when the presence of his son appears right next to him. The absence of an answer, a denial or an attempt at a misdirect is more than enough to admit what everyone around him already knows. 

“Did Mom know?” 

Elliot nods and chokes, “Yeah. She did. I’m sorry, Eli.” 

Elliot once more expects an outburst or a retreat from his son but instead he feels his son’s long hair and chin rest on his shoulder. 

It’s everything he needs at this moment. 

“..Sty…”

Elliot turns his head towards Eli and asks, “What?”

Eli jerks back, eyes wide from the sudden move. “ I didn’t say anything.” 

Elliot’s heart drops into his stomach and he freezes up. His ex-partner- the love of his life- may be waking and all he can feel is fear. Questions explode in his mind- what if she doesn’t remember what happened? What if there are lingering problems? What if she decides that she doesn’t want anything to do with me?

What if she never forgives me for Lewis?

“Dad, I think she’s waking up!”

What if I lose her? 

“Dad! Should I call the doctor?”

Breathe. 

Elliot finally brings himself out of his daze and finds himself looking directly into a pair of brown eyes. He’d cry in relief if he could. 

Instead, Elliot runs a hand down her cheek, whispering, “Hey, Liv. Welcome back.” 

A/N: One....ish chapter left. 

[of-fishnets-and-black-lace]

True Love is a Lie pt. II

Request: Can I please have a part two to “True Love is a Lie”? The first one was so good! Can I have it where it’s been a couple of months and you’re dating Sam and Lucifer comes and asks you to take a walk through the woods while Sam and Dean follow behind, just in case, and you tell him that you’re pregnant with Sam’s child and can you name the child Diana from Wonder Woman and also include the young Diana Prince?

Read Part 1 here!

Word Count: 1892

Warnings: Angst, pregnancy, fluff, cursing, terrible writing, idk what else since it has been too long since I’ve read this, the format got messed up when i posted this from my google docs

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader, Past Lucifer x Reader

A/N: I’m baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack. Shit has been so crazy the past few months/years but I’ve got my mojo back! It has been so long since I’ve done anything but I am hoping that with this pandemic I can finally post and write all the requests I have been getting, sequels to my other stories, as well as new stuff I’ve been working on. I am still not taking any requests until I have finished those in my inbox. I love you all and I am so happy to be writing again!

A year went by since your last heartwrenching encounter with Lucifer.  You nearly forgot about it because of your new life with Sam.  Sam always made sure to be attentive and by your side at a moment’s notice.  He made you trust in people again after your confrontation with Lucifer.  He knew after that experience you’d be broken, so he made sure to be there to mend the pieces.   

You did not want to dwell in the past and think yourself into a  depressive mood, especially with the Winchester boys and your new best friend, Jack, gone on a hunt.  You would’ve went with them had you not felt so nauseous and tired.  It was a typical salt-n-burn so you weren’t exactly missing out on anything important.  Nevertheless, Sam hated leaving you, especially with Lucifer still out there, but you were safe. 

Just as the thought of the moose enters your mind, your phone buzzes.

Sam: Hey baby girl, we’re on our way back.  Need anything?

You: Just some warm cuddles from my moose. 

You: Actually, I need oranges like right now. Not joking, I feel like I’ll die without oranges.

Sam: Is everything ok? You’ve never asked for oranges and I’ve never even seen you eat oranges since I’ve known you.

You: Yeah I’m fine, just a bit nauseous.  Also I’ve just been having a weird craving for oranges for some reason.  Oh well.

Sam: Hmm, I’m no doctor but maybe you should get checked out.  I worry about you, honey.

You: I know sweetie, but the doctor is expensive. It’s probably just the stomach flu or something.  Btw, how much longer?

Sam: Probably an hour, give or take 15 minutes.

You: Ok, Love you! See you soon!

Sam: Love you too! Can’t wait!

“Ok, so I have about an hour or so to check and see if my suspicions are correct.” You say aloud to yourself.

“What suspicions?” Cas suddenly appears out of nowhere, scaring you half to death.

“What the hell Cas?!” You all but screamed.

“Sorry, I thought you were praying to me.” Cas was never any good at lying to you.

“Umm, no I wasn’t just tell me why are you here?”

“I heard something on angel radio, and I needed to know if it is true.” He places a hand on your stomach.  “So it is true.”

“What? What is wrong with me?”

“(Y/N), your suspicions are right.  You’re six weeks pregnant.”

“How is that possible? Sam and I were so careful! What will he think or say? No, I can’t tell him. Not yet.”

With Sam and Dean still not home, you made Cas get a pregnancy test.  You trusted the angel’s words, but you needed concrete evidence.  You made Cas leave for a few days; you knew for sure that Cas wouldn’t be able to keep the secret.  The plus sign emerged with seconds to spare as Sam’s heavy footsteps could be heard approaching your shared room.

“(Y/N) I’m home!” Sam yelled as he collapsed onto the bed. You run out from the bathroom, pounce on him, and kiss all over his face.

“I missed you, Moose.”

“I missed you too, sweetheart.  I got the oranges you asked for.” 

“Thank you, baby…” You said as you chewed on the inside of your cheek.

“What’s wrong, baby girl?”

“Sam, have you ever thought about having kids?”

“Well yeah of course but… Isn’t it a little dangerous given our profession?”

“Yeah that’s true, but we’ve got out once, we can do it again.  Besides, I know I am safe when I’m with you and when I’m here in the bunker.”

“Enough with the chit chat, we have company.” Dean interrupts 

You and Sam follow Dean to the lighted table, sitting there was God himself, dressed oh so casually and a look of nervousness graced his face.  He twiddled his thumbs and a small smile made its way to his features as his eyes locked with yours.  

“Uh hehe, hey (Y/N), Sam, Dean, Jack.”

“What’s up, Chuck?” You said, holding onto Sam.

“Um, Lucifer asked me to tell you that he’s outside and would like to speak with you.” You grabbed onto Sam a little tighter.  

“I’ll talk to him, but I want Sam and Dean to stay close to me.  Jack should stay behind since it’s his father.”  

“He knows, he said that they could.”

You make your way outside and there he is, dressed in a nice suit and tie with a bouquet of (f/c) (f/f) in his right hand, but one thing was different: you couldn’t see his wings.  Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest, but Sam gave a reassuring squeeze to your hand.  You began walking toward Lucifer, Sam and Dean close behind.  Lucifer handed you the bouquet of flowers and gave a quick peck to your knuckles.  This apparently didn’t sit well with Sam as he cleared his throat with anger. 

“Will you join me for a walk through the woods, (Y/N)?” Lucifer asked and you look to Sam and Dean. “Don’t worry, they can follow behind.”  

You all walk to the edge of the woods in silence, your heart beat faster with every step closer to the treeline.  Through your peripheral vision, you could see Sam clench and unclench his jaw.  He was just as nervous as you were, if not more so.  You and Lucifer finally enter the woods. Sam and Dean follow a minute behind to give you some form of privacy, while still able to barely make out your conversations.  

“First of all, I want to say I’m so sorry for what I did to you.  I should have asked for your permission and talked it through with you.” Lucifer says, breaking the silence.  

“It’s alright I guess. I did some research and I now understand that I would not have survived through labour.  However, that does not justify your actions, what you did really hurt me.”

“I know, and I’m so sorry.  I never meant to hurt my soulmate.”

“Soulmate?”

“Yes, you were my soulmate.  That’s why you were able to see my wings.”

“Then why can’t I see them now?”

“Well, that’s what I wanted to talk about.”  There was a pained expression on his face, you’ve never seen the devil quite like this before.  “I had God make Sam your soulmate after what I had done to you.”

“This isn’t like you Lucifer, why would you do this?”

“I have to prove to you that I will always love you and do what’s best for you, even if it meant letting you go.” He sighed and placed a hand on your stomach. You could hear Dean hold Sam back as he spewed threats if Lucifer were to harm you.  

“Hurt the baby and I will not hesitate to pluck every feather from your wings.”

“I swear on my Father that I will protect yours and Sam’s child. It’s the least I could do to make up for everything.” He said as he kisses your forehead. “Name her Diana.” With that he disappears.

Sam finally breaks away from his brother and runs straight to you. He sees you place a hand protectively over your stomach and smile to it.The words of Lucifer finally make sense to him as he asks “You’re pregnant?”

You shake your head and smile, afraid to say anything.

“I am going to be a father!” Sam shouted with excitement as he picks you up and spins you around.  Tears of joy threaten to spill from both you and Sam as you lock eyes.  As he goes in for a kiss, you both are interrupted by Dean, yelling incoherently and excitedly about him being an uncle. You and Sam look at each other and giggle. It’s not a perfect family, but you can’t live without them.

Time Skip to Wedding Day (3 years later)

You look at your engagement ring then to your flower girl, Diana Prince Winchester, waddling down the aisle leaving flower petals in her wake.  She looked so adorable in her little white dress and you couldn’t help but to tear up.  The audience gasp and awe as they watch your daughter.

The wedding was surprisingly large for a pair of hunters.  Hordes of hunters (friends and some you’ve never seen before), the Winchesters’ monster “friends”, a few angels, and some family came from all over to see you two get married.  With God sponsoring your wedding, you expected something extravagant like a wedding at the Vatican. However, this was not the case.  The ceremony was held in a beautiful meadow that somehow matched your (f/c) wedding theme. The icing on top of the cake was Chuck himself officiating the wedding.  

The wedding march began and Gabriel walks you down the aisle.  Sam couldn't help but let a few tears slip as he watches his two beautiful girls in white.  Dean, the best man, elbows him slightly but he too couldn't help the tears.  Cas, Lucifer, and Jack all smile at you and then to Sam.  They know you two are perfect for each other.  You weren't phased by Sam asking Lucifer to be a groomsman. Besides, it was your idea to have him as Diana's godfather.  You finally reach the altar, and neither of you seem to care about the sniffling and hiccuping. You were finally marrying each other so let the waterworks happen. 

You were hardly paying attention until you hear Chuck say it's time to share your vows.  Sam clears his throat and begins: 

“Y/N, I've known you for as long as I can remember.  We've been fighting side by side since we were little and our dads would go on hunting trips together.  I would always tell myself, that one way or another I will marry this girl and protect her from any and every monsters.  You may have not been my soulmate then, but you are my soulmate now. And as your soulmate, I'm never letting you go.” There was a slight pause and an awkward cough from Lucifer. “I will love you until the end of time.” 

He slips the ring on your finger as you begin:  “I’d never thought I would be standing here with the infamous Sam Winchester, yet here I am with a ring on my finger.  You were my first best friend and my first crush and my first protector.  you’ve saved me from being broken in more ways than one, and for that I owe you my life.  While it is true we were not soulmates before, we are soulmates now and that’s all that matters.  I will love you forever until the end of time.” 

After the expression of the “I Dos,” you hear the words you’ve been dying to hear since you made it to the altar: “You may kiss the bride.” Sam grabs you by the waste and pulls you to him.  With the passion of a thousand suns, he kisses you and everything melts away.  It was just like the first time you two kissed.  

In the back of your mind, you could hear Lucifer whisper “I will always love you” but that didn’t matter to you anymore. You are Sam’s and he is yours.  Nothing will change that.

[oh-theatre]

Objection!: Chapter 2

Chapter title: Morning Chaos

A/n: I wrote a lot more family!Patton than I expected too but I think it's fine. Also, I hope I'm doing ok, let me know! Also, I have been doing a lot of research for this fic but I might get things wrong so I apologize.

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words: 2858

summary: Patton tries his best to get his kids ready for the morning, and Virgil receives some unsettling news.

pairings: Eventual logicality, eventual prinxiety, platonic demus

warnings: Murder mention

Ao3 Link

“Yo Virge! Someones at your desk!” A familiar voice calls to Virgil as he steps into the precinct early morning. Virgil turns grumbling to face his partner Remy, glaring at him. Remy shrugs it off and points to their desks. Virgil's gaze follows his point and his annoyance grows seeing a figure hovering over his desk, messing with his things. “Yeah, I thought you might like that” Remy teases before dragging a very tired Virgil over to their desk. 

“Hi, hello what do you want?” Virgil wastes no time interrogating the figure. The man stands tall and faces away from the pair. Virgil sighs and pushes the man aside slightly before sitting down. He feels a weighted pressure push his chair down and a voice brought his ear.

“Is that really any way to treat a judge?” Virgil spins around pushing the man away from him frightened.

“Roman! God! What are you doing here?” Virgil takes a moment to steady his breathing glaring at the now snickering Judge and his partner doing the same. Roman notices his glare and promptly stops his giggle fest. “Look I had a rough morning, I'm really annoyed right now so just… what are you doing here?” Virgil begs it's true. His morning had been less than ideal trying to get his son Damian to the daycare was a test. He had gotten absolutely no sleep last night fretting over the murder trial and to make things worse Roman Reial was standing in the precinct laughing at him. So not ideal.

“Sorry..” Roman sputters through his returning laughs, he clears his throat “My apologies Virgil, I'm here to retrieve the final evidence files for the trial this afternoon.” Virgil nods and gestures for the judge to follow him. They walk through the dimly lit precinct in awkward silence. They make their way through the array of desks, past the break room into the evidence locker.

“Case 203” Virgil requests, the lady at the desk nods and disappears into the plethora of file cabinets behind her. Virgil feels a buzz in his pocket and reaches for his now ringing cell phone. “Detective Tormine, what can I do for you?” Virgil's hears Roman stifle a laugh, he shoots him another glare, Roman puts his hands up innocently. Virgil listens his face slowly falls and he sighs exasperated “I'll be there as soon as I can, thank you Cindy” He slams his phone shut and rubs his temples. Roman eyes him with curiosity. 

“Is everything alright detective?” The judge asks, his voice softening at the clear state of distress the man is in. Virgil shakes his head biting his lip.

“Its Damian, apparently he's not doing so well and he threw up.” Virgil scoffs “How does a father miss when their child is sick? I mean...I'm an awful parent” He curses himself. Damian had begged all morning not to go today, telling his father he felt ‘icky’, Virgil wanted to kick himself. Roman puts a reassuring hand on the smaller man's shoulder, he uses his other hand to lift Virgil's face so they stand eye to eye. 

“You are not an awful parent” Roman says firmly, his tone has shifted. Virgil recognizes the sudden change, it was Romans court voice. “You are a single dad, who work practically 24/7 in the field of law and still makes time for your kid. I can't tell you how many times Patton has felt the same, it doesn't make you awful parents. You are under an incredible amount of stress, so you missed some signs that's ok because you can go now and take care of him. He will appreciate that so much more than you being upset with yourself” Roman soothes. Virgil simply stares, Roman was right but Virgil also knew it wasn't that easy. However, Virgil needed to go so he simply nods. The lady comes back, handing Roman the case file, and remaining evidence. They thank her before making their way back to the desk. “Why don't I drive you? It's on the way to the courthouse anyway” Roman offers, Virgil knows for a fact the daycare was in the opposite direction but he doesn’t think Roman was one to take no for an answer. 

“Ooo! Roadtrip” Remy exclaims joining the conversation. Virgil rolls his eyes smiling softly at his partner's antics. “Can I come?” 

“It's not a road trip Remy” Virgil insists “I'm going to pick up my sick son” Remy backs away face apologetic, Virgil shoots him a reassuring glance before turning back to Roman. “Fine but only because I don't want to take the bus” Roman claps victorious, Remy snickers before returning to his work. 

What did I get myself into?

~~~

“What?!” Patton cries into the phone, he rubs his temples frustrated “No, no, no please Cindy-” He listens aggravated. Finally, he sighs resigned “Yes, ok fine, thank you Cindy” He hangs up the phone and buries his face into a pile of files on his desk. He groans and sits up thinking. He looks around his musty study examining the darkroom. The curtains were closed except for a tiny slit of sunlight gleaming through. The lamp on his desk flickered making a sizzling sound. Patton shut it off and stood opening the curtains. Sunlight flooded the room giving Patton a calm feeling. He turns to the bookcases that surrounded his desk staring at the empty spots. Furrowing his brows he took the books he pulled out the previous night and places them back into their rightful spots. Once the last book was home he faces the mess of files on his desk. Patton began organizing the files and his notes. He grabs his briefcase and smiles opening up the old thing. The richness that pours from it is enough to make Patton swoon. He carefully places his files, notes, laptop and anything else he might need into it. He latches it closed and heaves it out into the kitchen, shutting off the lights and door behind him. He places the briefcase onto the counter and turns to the stove. The time flashes 8:00 AM. Patton lets out a huff of relief, not late, and begins making breakfast. He uses what he can find seeing as they had just arrived home and Patton hadn’t gone grocery shopping yet. He turns on the radio and listens as he cooks up breakfast for three.

“-new case to bless the courthouse today Jolene!” A cheery reporter sounds through the radio. Patton feels his stomach collapse to the ground. He leaves the bread to toast and listens intently to the reporters. 

“You are absolutely right Adam!” Another voice joins the mix. Patton takes the now toasted bread and spreads even amounts of butter and crofters jam on to them. “It seems that the Florida police have finally found a leading suspect for the ‘Alphabet Murder’ case!” Jolene hollers at the name joined by Adam. Patton bites his bottom lip. There are families, children who suffered, He thinks, this isn't a joke. The reporters continue, discussing things Patton is already aware of. He turns the radio off and serves breakfast at the dining table. He pours two glasses of orange juice and begins brewing coffee for himself. He hums as he cleans away the small mess, twirling around slightly. 

“Papa…” A sleepy voice calls from behind him. He finishes the last dish securing it safely on the drying rack before turning to face his young daughter. She stands in the archway between the kitchen and dining room rubbing her eyes and holding her prized plushie. Patton feels himself melt at the adorable sight, he kneels in front of the young girl. 

“Good Morning angel face” Patton coos at his toddler. Valerie gives a smile before jumping into her father's arms wrapping her small arms around his neck. Patton stands hugging her back and planting small kisses all over her face. Valerie shrieks delightfully before begging to be put down. Patton obliges and sets her down softly. “There's toast at the table if you want some” Patton offers, she nods excited and runs to sit down. He watches as she munches on her food. Patton’s coffee finishes and he joins Valerie at the table. “Is your brother still asleep?” Patton asks wiping crumbs off the side of her cheek. 

“Mmhm” She chimes “But I woke him up! I said we had to go see our friends!” Valerie explains gesturing wildly. Patton feels his heart twinge. “And then he got right up!” She finishes taking the last bite of her food. “He’s so messy Papa” Valerie whispers as though spreading gossip “And icky, boys are icky” Patton laughs and ruffles her hair. He takes her empty plate and brings it over to the dishwasher. She helps him by bringing over her empty glass. They make their way back to the table sitting down. “When can we see our friends?” Valerie asks bouncing on her chair. Patton sighs disappointed.

“Not today kiddo, I’m sorry” Patton admits, Valerie sits still in her chair and pouts. “Cindy said they had an accident and had to shut down for the day” Patton explains pained by the sad eyes Valerie gives him. 

“But I wanna see my friends” Patton nods understandably. 

“I know kiddo, but hey think about this! Today you get to come to work with me and hang out with Papa!” Patton plasters on a big smile. Valerie looks up hopeful. “How's that sound?” She nods, her bubbly mood returning. “Now why don't we check on that brother of yours ok?” Patton takes her hand as they walk upstairs into the twin's room. Valerie groans at the sight of a snoring Remus sleeping in his bed. Patton chuckles making his way over to the boy. He strokes the boys head lovingly. “Remus buddy, it's time to wake up” Patton says softly “I made you some food, aren't you hungry?”

“No Dada, I don't want the mashed potatoes” Remus mumbles turning over, clutching onto his pillow. Patton suppresses a laugh before carefully lifting Remus causing him to stir awake. He opens his eyes and looks around before softly hitting Patton's chest “Put me down!” He exclaims squirming “Put me down, y-you… heathen!” Patton obliges through fear of dropping the boy from laughing. He helps Remus change while Valerie packs her things. 

“Ready to go? Both of you?” Patton pleads after finally getting everybody ready. Valerie nods, while Remus lets out a grumbling huff. “What's wrong crab cake?” Patton asks his grumpy son. 

“Nofin” He replies before climbing into the backseat of the car and letting Patton buckle him up. He places a quick kiss on the boy's forehead before getting into the driver's seat. He checks the mirror before pulling out and smiling at the excited conversation the twins are having. 

~~~

Logan yawns walking into the courthouse sipping his coffee. He’s always amazed by the beautiful architect the building held. The arches placed neatly around leading to different courtrooms. The front desk tying the room into a half-circle. The ceiling dripping with meticulous art and flattering light. The stained windows complimenting them. Everything fit perfectly, it was his favorite place. Was being the operative word. It was until he heard the unruly shriek of laughter and giggles of children. He didn't hate children, let's make that clear. In fact, there were some select children that he cared for very dearly. However, it was incredibly early, and this was a courthouse. The one place a child should not be. He didn't hate children, he turned around ready to pounce but immediately melted, Oh...he especially didn't hate these children. 

“Val! Remus! Remember what I told you about volume in the car” Patton warned. Logan watched as the very exasperated man took his children's hands and led them to the front desk. Jenny, the receptionist, helped him check in all while swooning over the twins. Patton smiled brightly at her words and Logan watched as he got visitors passes for the kids and said goodbye to Jenny. “Ok now remember, we are going to go to my office and stay there for a little bit, then Papa has to work so you guys are gonna hang out in the children's room, and then we can all eat lunch together, hows that sound?” Patton was kneeling now, why? Logan thought, he watched as the twins burst into simultaneous enthusiasm about their father's plan. Patton stood when he heard his name called, he began a conversation with another judge. Logan watched as the judge asked him about his trip, he was brought out of his thoughts when he felt a small pressure push against his legs. He looked down to see a very embarrassed Remus. 

“I'm sorry mister” The boy mumbles, too scared to look up. He rubs his head bothered and stuffs his play truck into his pocket. Logan tilts his head slightly.

“No worries Remus” He speaks calmly, his face remains “I'm sure it was an accident” Remus looks up gaining a quick smile as he recognizes the man.

“Logan!” He cries out drawing Patton's attention, as well as a few others. Patton finishes his conversation and races over to the other two, followed by Valerie. “Look Dada it's Mister. Logan!” Remus exclaims to his father, Patton chuckles lightly. 

“It's actually Mr.Tolentino, Remus” Logan corrects, gaining a disappointed glance from Patton. Remus pouts, followed by Valerie. He feels a small flutter in his stomach but ignores it.

“Your no fun” Valerie points out, Remus nods. 

“I apologize” Logan begins adjusting his glasses “But this is a workplace, I'm not here for fun” He explains. Patton looks down at his children then back at Logan. His face is riddled with a disheartened look. He kneels down once more in front of his children. He's doing it again...Logan furrowed his brows examining the man's posture.

“Logan is right kiddos” Patton speaks finally. Logan feels an unfamiliar sensation when his name flows from Patton's mouth, yet it feels uneasy. “Why don't I have Jenny take you guys to my office while I finish up some stuff, ok?” The twins nod still discouraged and are led away by Jenny who follows along with all of their antics. Patton watches them go before standing once more. 

“Why do you do that?” Logan inquires suddenly. Patton turns to him curiously. 

“Do what?” 

“Kneel, why do you kneel when you speak to them. Are you not perfectly capable of standing and looking down?” Patton bites his lip questioning whether Logan is being serious. Logan remains silent, Patton nods slowly. 

“I kneel because then I can speak to them at their level. I'm creating an equal dynamic that says ‘I am listening to you, I care about what you are saying, and you matter to me’” he pauses, Logan processes this. “If I look down on them I am silently telling them the opposite of all those things. Children who feel seen and heard not only behave better but grow up to keep those values instilled in them. They feel respected, which in turn also makes me feel respected. They are more likely to listen to what I am saying If I show them that I am willing to do the same.” Patton finishes calmly, Logan stares in wonderment. 

“That...is… incredibly smart and...amazing” Logan manages still gazing at Patton. Patton giggles lightly, only pulling Logan further into his amazement. “You are… a g-good parent” Logan curses himself. I don't stutter.

“Thanks, Lo!” Patton bounces, Logan feels a sudden relief at the return of his nickname. “I sure hope so. Whatcha up to today?” Patton inquires, releasing Logan from his thoughts

“Its ‘What are you up to today’ and as for my work-” Patton rolls his eyes at the correction, the men seemingly fall back into their familiar routine “I was placed on the ‘Alphabet Murder’ case, as they so annoyingly call it” Logan says, something changes in Patton's demeanor that he can't quite describe. Patton looks… bothered?

“Oh” Is all he replies, his cheery tone washed away by a flat voice. “So your… the prosecutor?” Logan had expected to feel pride, or amusement once Patton had noticed who he was going up against but just felt… bad. The father’s face was infested with mixed emotions. 

“Yes I will, and what will you be doing today?” Logan inquires, knowing the answer. Patton shuffles his feet and fidgeting nervously with his briefcase.

“I'm the defense actually” Patton says, he examines Logan's face “But you already knew that, didn't you?” Logan's face falls.

Damnit

“I… yes I did. Ho-”

“I told you, you have to learn how to read your client's emotions” He says. Logan expects a teasing manner but is puzzled by the still present sadness the man conveys. “I should go, I need to prepare and check on the kids. See you in court Logan” Patton dismisses himself walking away. Logan jerks at the return of his full name.  

“See you in court, Patton” He whispers to himself, feeling the adrenaline of a new case drip away.

[wilhelmjfink]

“It’s Them” (1/3)

ETA: SOME PPL ACTUALLY WANTED A SECOND PART SO I CHANGED IT FROM ONESHOT #6 (WHICH ACTUALLY IT WAS #5 APPARENTLY) TO A NEW TITLE AND THE 2ND PART WILL BE OUT SOOOOOON :-) -3/8/19

time to break the monotony up w/ a oneshot I pounded out kinda drunk & finished late so it’s getting posted w/o being edited or even remotely glanced over tonight..... this one is Negan x reader!!! holy shit right??!?! i know!!! i had to switch things up so. enjoy~

PS: @crossbowking i rly hope ur not mad at me for posting this i love u :,(

Prompt: “It’s them.”

You were growing increasingly more fed up with being out in the damp cold air as dusk settled onto the forest around you. You had your AR15 slung over your back carelessly so that your hands could remain tucked into the front pockets of the black jacket you were wearing, fingers frozen despite the cotton gloves you wore.

Negan’s rules had been simple: you knew where these people were coming and going, and it was your job to interfere, halting them in their tracks. A surprise visit to the group of strangers that had broken into your eastern compound and shot every single one of your comrades as they slept.

The thought made your blood boil and it coursed through your veins, offering slight relief from the brisk night air. You had friends at that compound — there were men and women there that you were sure had never even held a gun in their hands. Innocent people being slaughtered was nothing new in the world you lived in now, but that didn’t mean it didn’t anger you and that there wasn’t anything you could do about it. Vengeance was one thing that you did have, and you’d be damned if you’d let anyone take it away from you.

So you trudged through the fallen leaves and dead brush underneath your boots, already glistening with fresh dewdrops, leading your small squad of four through the maze of baring trees.

The small single beep that radiated from the walkytalky on your hip rung out just loud enough for you to catch it. Without looking down or missing a determined step, you felt down for the call button on the side, clicked it in response, and waited for an answer.

Finally, a familiar voice crackled through the small speaker. “Beta, you read?”

You threw a quick glance over your shoulder at your crew for attendance and held up a hand, signaling them to stop behind you. “Beta’s good.”

There was muffled chatter for a moment while Simon checked in with Charlie and Delta, and after they confirmed their condition, it was followed by silence.

You shifted your weight on your feet impatiently, already struggling to see just feet in front of you as the sun disappeared. There had been no sign of the group you were after yet — at least, for your squad — and you were getting angrier and angrier at Simon and Negan for sending you the direction they did incase any of your targets caught wind of the gameplan and detoured or actually discovered any of the dozens of Saviors that were roaming the area all around you.

“Everything ok, boss?”

You looked to Lola as she stepped toward you, bloodshot eyes wide in eager anticipation, itching for a fight as always. A smile crept onto your face at the sight of your friend as she bounced on her heels, glancing left and right and back and forth, the two black knots of hair falling loosely from their spot on the top of her head.

“Yeah,” you responded, looking to the radio on your hands. “Just Simon dicking around like always.”

Lola laughed dryly and nodded in understanding. “Figured as much.”

Toby swung the heavy bag from his back and dropped it to the ground with a grunt, leaving it momentarily to stretch and doubled over with a satisfied groan. When he straightened up, he opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the crackling of the radio  at your side.

“Alright everyone, listen up.” Simon’s voice was oozing with superiority he thought he had and you rolled your eyes. “They’re rounding ‘em all up by the camp off of Hudson. It’s marked on your maps, so hurry up and get your asses over here. It’s go time!”

“Got it,” you said into the speaker before tucking it back onto your hip. Toby hoisted the bag back up over his shoulders. Meyers pulled the roadmap from his own smaller pack, and Lola shined her mag light onto it.

“Maybe a half mile,” she said, trailing her pointer finger along the paper Meyers held in his hands quietly. “Keep going straight.”

You nodded. “Let’s go meet these fuckers.”

Marching on, the three followed you back into the dark forest.

You spotted the headlights from your vans and trucks before you reached the clearing, the rumble of chatter from your fellow Saviors growing as you neared them. The Sanctuary was a large community but it wasn’t the only one; there were probably fifty Saviors around you and every single one of them was just as pissed off as you were.

There was a camper parked on the far end and you curiously made your way toward it, unsure of whether or not it was occupied and if it was, you wanted to be sure it wasn’t nobody that should be on their knees in the clearing behind you.  

You retrieved your weapon from your back and poised it up and ready to fire as you pulled the flimsy plastic door open and climbed the first step inside.

“And, BANG! You’re dead.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin, whipping around toward the unmistakable voice behind you frantically. Only when you found Negan and saw his cocky grin as he emerged from a darkened corner did you lower your gun and place a hand overtop of your heart just to make sure it was still beating and he hadn’t actually scared you to death.

“God, you fucking asshole,” you bit out breathlessly. “I almost shot you!”

“You need to be more careful, doll.” He crept toward you and even in the dim light the vehicles outside hardly provided in the small room you could see his perfect teeth glistening as he grinned down at you mischievously. “I could’ve shot you before you even got a chance to see me. And wouldn’t that be a shitty way to die?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You waved at him dismissively and stood on your toes to peer over his shoulder through the cracked blinds behind him, watching as your crew surrounded the line of strangers on their knees, circling them like vultures. “We got ‘em,” you said, almost surprised, and Negan noticed.

“Did you ever doubt that we would?”

“No, it was just getting late and I was about ready to throw in the towel and try again tomorrow.”

Still smiling, Negan shook his head slowly. “Now, that is not the girl I know...”

“Yeah, well...” you shrugged. The comfortability between you two was always present and especially welcomed at that moment, considering the long and exhausting day you’d had keeping up the unwavering front as your squad’s leader. It was unsettling sometimes how easily you could let your guard down around him. “It’s fucking cold outside, Negan.”

He slinked closer to you, his large frame towering over you so close to you that his body was radiating warmth that you were craving.

You could feel his breath on your chilled skin: “Awe, poor baby,” he crooned; you didn’t know if it was his proximity or his words that sent a chill down your spine, but goosebumps made their way over your whole body in waves.

The compliments and flirtatiousness were always present between you two but you disregarded it as friendly banter — you, unlike most women you came across, could handle a little inappropriate banter and his perverted sense of humor. Hell, most of the time, you could match it; make him blush even. But as it had always been with you and your predominantly male group of friends, harmless teasing was all that it was and would ever be. And you would be just fine with that.

But harmless teasing had left you and Negan behind some time ago, despite your attempt to simply ignore the heat that pooled in your stomach every time you caught him staring at you from across the room.

But at that moment, he wasn’t across the room, noticeably eye-fucking you with his tongue hanging from his jaw like a dog. No — he had dropped that bad boy persona and took on his role as the leader of a deadly and violent group of soldiers and held his act together with confidence and class. Over the course of the day you’d watched him go from a horny teenager to a man that would hold you down until you caved and called him daddy.

You worked for Negan. He was your boss, essentially. And part of that concerned you. But there was another part of you, a much bigger and stronger part, that excited you even more.

And he knew it, too; standing there before you with his lips hovering so close to yours that the minuscule distance between them began to actually, physically hurt. So standing there with Negan, toe-to-toe, you caved and let the hype and adrenaline of the day’s events consume you and without giving yourself another second to contemplate it, you closed the small space between you two impatiently.

The second that your lips touched his it was like a switch had been flicked on inside of him, as if he’d been posed restlessly at the starting line waiting for the gunshot that told him to fucking go. The simple act had given him all the permission he’d needed and you let him guide you backwards until your back hit the wall and he pinned you up against it deliciously, fueling the fire that was burning in your veins and had you yearning for him, refusing to smolder and burn out until you had every inch of him in the palm of your hand — literally and figuratively.

Just as his normal behavior always flaunted, he was cocky and dominant with his kissing as well, biting on your lower lip and tugging gently and eliciting an unwilling moan from you that only seemed to drive him on. He let out a low growl in response and the sound itself could’ve melted you on the spot. In fact, you wouldn’t have been surprised if the whole RV around you went up in flames from the energy he was emitting.

His large hands explored your body the best they could with the layers you had on, fumbling with the buttons on your coat until they could make their way inside the heavy material and slowly move up and down and ghost around your breasts tauntingly. He knew exactly what he was doing — you were making a point to not remind yourself that. And it wasn’t hard considering his movements had you like putty in the palm of his hand and he manipulated and rolled you between his fingers hungrily.

When he pinned both of your wrists in one hand overtop of your head you felt your knees weaken and threaten to give up underneath you. But the second that his mouth left your lips and dropped to the nape of your neck you were both interrupted by a voice right outside of the door.

“Let’s meet the man!”

You weren’t sure why you panicked and shoved him off of you, panicking at the thought of anybody seeing you, even if it was just Simon. Nervously you looked to Negan to gauge his reaction to your sudden change of heart but he seemed to understand and simply stood up and retrieved Lucille from where she was propped up against the counter.

Simon knocked to alert Negan and he headed toward the door, readjusting the red scarf around his neck and bringing a hand up behind his head to smooth down the hair your wandering hands had tussled.

With a smile in a wink that almost had you jumping back on top of him, he grabbed the door handle and gave you one last provocative up-and-down, running his tongue over his perfect teeth like a snake. “You come out whenever you’re ready, baby girl.”

And with that, he stepped out of the camper, letting the door swing and slam shut behind him.

When you were positive he’d left from earshot, you let yourself fall onto the cushions behind you with a deep sigh.

“What the fuck have I done?” You asked yourself quietly, unable to stop the laughter from bubbling up into the words. You really backed yourself into a corner. Next time you saw Negan he would want to finish what you had started. Did you want to finish it? You wouldn’t have kissed him if you didn’t. So what does that mean for you as a Savior? He’d have to kill you to get you into one of those skimpy black dresses and call yourself a wife. You would sooner take a job on the fence.

You should’ve known it was bound to happen sooner or later — that was always how things went. You weren’t his ‘right-hand’, but you might as well have been. You were a team, a good match in temperament and skill, successful in most things you did together. You could deny it all you want, but that spark had always been there, and you tried to ignore it only to make it much more obnoxious than it had already had been.

He had to respect you to some degree beyond a comrade to never make a serious move on you before, right?

It was scary to connect with people in the new world; scary to find somebody that made you feel something than other than basic survival instincts and could make you forget about the way life had changed. It was dangerous and you were just asking to be hurt, never being able to prepare yourself for when he was inevitably ripped from your grasp.

You knew that for a fact because it had happen before, and you weren’t sure if you could handle another loss.

Not knowing if they’d gotten lost, abandoned you, been killed or tortured or eaten alive. That was the hard part. Not knowing.

But if you wanted to live, you couldn’t dwell on things like that. You know there were certain people who would want you to move on and be happy and find comfort in somebody else’s arms, regardless of how narcissistic, cocky and borderline delirious they could be.

You shook the whirling thoughts from your head: you didn’t couldn’t in the dark and reminisce all night. You had a job to do.

Retrieving your gun from where you’d discarded in on the table you straightened yourself up, making sure to settle your own messy hair back into a relatively decent ponytail, and forced your personal feelings back down where they belonged: buried underneath more pressing matters.

You opened the door as quietly as possible as to not draw attention to yourself, and it would’ve worked had Negan not been staring in your direction as if he’d been waiting for you to emerge. He was on the other side of the group he had lined up, kneeling before him, all 10 or so avoiding his gaze except for the guy in the middle whom he was crouched in front of.

He smiled when he saw you. “There’s my girl.”

Your face flushed red and you cursed yourself for it, not wanting to show any sign of anything more than a professional relationship with Negan but also furious with him for stopping his big, dramatic facade to acknowledge her that way in front of the large crowd around you.

You sunk back into like in front of your squad and felt Lola nudge you harshly with her elbow, so much so that it knocked you off balance and you snapped back angrily at your friend and glared at her from over your shoulder. But it was hard to be mad at her as she stared up at you wide wide eyes and an even wider smile, telling you everything you needed to know about what she was thinking and how she felt about it all.

Negan stood up and sashayed around the group like the prima donna he was, though he spoke nothing but truth with no exaggerations, his recap of all your people the strangers before you had killed brutally successfully bringing back the anger you’d forgotten about for just a few moments.

Out of the corner of your eye you caught sight of a man hunched over under a blanket, covered in blood you presumed had to be his with how badly his body was trembling.

Negan has begun one of his theatrical  scenes and was slowly circling the strangers with Lucille outstretched before him but you couldn’t focus because you were still squinting in the dark, struggling to see the face of the injured man across from you because something felt wrong about him. You couldn’t explain the odd feeling you were getting from him, trying to make out his features in the shadows of the headlights as Negan passed by him slowly, taunting him with his scare tactics.

Then, like a freight train, it hit you. Hard.

Recognition.

He was familiar — the strong arms and broad chest, shaggy hair that casted over his eyes as he hung his head weakly. But when Negan stepped by him, sticking Lucille in his face menacingly, he actually rose his eyes and glared up at him, fearless and unwavering.

The strength was your first hint; the shadows lifting from his features and revealing a face that turned your previously boiling blood into pure shards of ice.

Your stomach dropped. The wind was knocked from your lungs. The world was tilting dangerously around you and you felt like you were going to keel over. But you had to know for sure.

You looked to the person at his side. And the next one. And the person next to them. And then to the man in the middle and you were sure you might’ve passed out of Lola didn’t catch on and wrap a gloved hand around your elbow, whispering something unintelligible that you could hardly hear. And while you so badly wanted to just turn around and assure her you were fine, you found that you lost the ability to form coherent thoughts, let alone sentences.

The only words that you could manage to squeak out, barely audible, felt so distant and so wrong on your own tongue: “It’s them.”

:o

wouldn’t this be an incredible 2 parter!!!!! *wink nudge @crossbowking dont hate me lol xx*

@crossbowking @jodiereedus22 @apossiblegentleman @mtngirlforever @sourwolf-sterek32 @winchester-angel @qrangr @cole-winchester @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @twdeadfanfic @crazyaboutnorman @thatsoragan @deliciousassafrasssandwich @bunnymother93 @96ssi @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @ima-mther-fckn-starboy @thatsoragan @lonewolf471

[cecilspeaks]

121 - A Story of Love and Horror, Part 1: “Barks”

The password is “mudwomb”. The username is “mudwomb”. The website is “mudwomb”. Where did the rest of the Internet go? Welcome to Night Vale.

I would like to tell you a story. It is a difficult story and I don’t know what it means, but it seems important to me to tell you. It is about two people and a terrible, impossible decision that they found themselves having to make. It concerns Frances Donaldson and Nazr al-Mujaheed.

But first, the community calendar. 

This Tuesday evening the Night Vale Football Boosters Club will hold their meeting at the Applebee’s that we’re all pretty sure was a Chili’s just yesterday, but now is an Applebee’s, and all records show it has always been an Applebee’s even though we remember it as a Chili’s. The subject of this week’s meeting will be the timing of football games, which all members agree are too long. “Hey, I like football as much as the next guy,” said Hannah Gutierrez, “but a whole sixty minutes of play? Plus all the breaks and starting and stopping? We're busy people. Football should take less time.” The Booster Club will be working on their new proposal to get games done in a tight 15, so everyone can get home to watch the newest episode of Stop Chef, in which a group of contestants compete to prevent a chef from cooking.

Wednesday is Love Day at Dark Owl Records. Owner Michelle Nguyen explained that after recent love-focused events, she wanted everyone to understand that love is a laughable concept. And she wanted to highlight its absurdity by selling albums with songs that ruthlessly mock love using subtle irony, like “I Will Always Love You” and “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough”. My former radio intern Maureen, who was in the store too and was holding hands with Michelle, agreed that love is stupid, and funny. And fun and ridiculous, and all-encompassing and revitalizing. Then Michelle said, “What?” And Maureen said, “What?” And then they both got embarrassed and asked me to leave.

Thursday is the Safety Parade, which the Sheriff’s Secret Police hold each year in order to highlight safety. Of course, no one is allowed to march in or attend the parade for their own safety. As Secret Police Mascot, Barks Ennui, always says: “Woof woof! The biggest danger to you – is you! Woof woof.”

Friday is a meeting at town hall to discuss the problem of entrances to other universes, and the question of whether all of us even ended up in the right universe after that whole recent mixup. There will be light snacks as well as blood tests and surprise interrogations about our version of history, in order to trip up intruders from parallel universes. Attendance is mandatory.

This Saturday and Sunday, the Brown Stone Spire will be offering powerful gifts in exchange for great sacrifices. The larger the sacrifice, the more powerful the gift. For instance, if you give it a DVD you got for Christmas five years ago and have never even taken out of its shrink wrap, it’ll give you a well-worn copy of “Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets” that is missing its cover. But if you give it an offering of your own blood and fervent chanting, the copy of “Chamber of Secrets” it gives you will have an intact cover.

And finally, this Monday, Night Vale cinemas will be hosting a showing of that classic comedy caper, “The Grift of the Magi”, in which two con artists run scams in order to get one another Christmas gifts, only to find that they have accidentally each stolen the money from the other.

And now, a story of love – and horror.

Frances Donaldson runs the Antiques Mall in Old Time Night Vale. Long before she took on that job though, she developed an interest in time. As a child, she would stand still and consider that while she had not moved at all in space, something had changed. That she had grown just slightly older, her hair just slightly longer, and this without being able to see the movement at all. She liked to lie in bed and, through her window, watch planes pass very high in the sky. She liked to think about where they had taken off and where they might land. Objects fascinated her, because they too moved through time, on a different trajectory than her. Her bedroom lamp had existed, looking more or less like it was now, since before she was born, and could well exist after she had died. It wasn’t even aware, was too unable to move, and yet it joined her in this mad hurdle through time.

She found this terrifying, and she found this fascinating. And she found this delightful and she wanted it to stop. And she hoped it never stopped, and she felt all of these feelings equally and at once, and without contradiction. What use was there in worrying if all of what she felt about time did not exactly add up? She was too busy feeling it to consider what it meant. And so, of course, she became fascinated with antiques. These objects washed up from the crooked tides of time.

Nazr al-Mujaheed coaches the Night Vale High School football team. Go Scorpions. And this was almost the entirety of his world. He thought about football when he woke up, he thought about it on the drive to work. Of course he thought about it when he ran practices and had meetings with the assistant coaches, and he thought about it at night when he ate take-out dinners on his couch while watching football. This made him happy. And what makes a person happy, if it doesn’t harm another person and doesn’t harm themselves, is OK. Even if it’s not how anyone else would want to live.

But while it made him happy, Nazr was also aware that is more than one kind of happiness. And that perhaps this happiness he found in a life endlessly thinking about football, was less than the happiness he could find in a life with more things in it. This wasn’t about fixing a problem, this was an attempt to improve on a good situation. This was his play for some sort of grace. Other people he knew could provide an outside perspective, and perhaps allow him to be less focused on his work and on the game he coached. And so he decided he would try dating. Without expectations, without a plan, just as a way to see what the world might have for him.

And now, a word from our sponsors.

[masculine ad reader voice] Ford! Our cars are built strong, strong like a rock or a mountain or a bone. In fact, our cars are built out of bones, weird metal bones that were buried in a meteor. What creature did they belong to? How did it live with a skeleton of steel? Are its relatives even now streaking down from the sky, intent on revenging themselves upon the pitiful culture that desecrated their dead and turned them into affordable and reliable pickup trucks? Who knows. We certainly don’t. We barely understand how an engine works. We have one guy who knows, and he builds them all. But in order to protect his job, he won’t show anyone else how to do it. Now that’s smart thinking. Ford: drive weird bones.

There was no great epiphany for Frances that led to her dating life. She had been on the dating app, Void, since it had become available in Night Vale, and had gone on a few casual Void dates. It was not an important part of her life, because it didn’t seem likely to ever lead to anything more. But the occasional company was nice. A night with someone, and then back to her life as it was, which was a life she liked. In this way, her dating was related to her obsession with time. Her bed was always the same bed, and sometimes there was another person in it. And mostly only her. She floated upon that bed as it moved through time. Passengers on and off, and she alone voyaging onward.

And then, Nazr messaged her on Void and they started chatting. For his part, he was unsure of how to date, it having been some time since he had done and certainly before dating happened as a series of written communications, rather than awkward hand gestures. So he had messaged a number of women in town, who had seemed to him like someone he might want to spend more time with. He did this without expectation. He had few expectations that did not involve football. He just performed the actions that might lead to new outcomes for him, and three of the women had messaged back. He was, after all, not a bad looking man, handsome even, although it had been a long time since anyone had told him that. And so it would not have occurred to him that he was handsome, and this in many ways made him even more handsome.

Frances and he agreed to meet for lunch near the high school. This was close enough to her antique store that she could walk, and so the whole thing didn’t feel to either of them like much of a commitment of time. “So,” he said, once they had sat down with their food. “So,” she agreed, and for an awful moment it seemed like it would hang there in uncomfortable silence, and a bad date best forgotten. But then he asked about antiques, because he himself had an interest in old football trophies. And he agreed that might seem a bit weird, but the thing was that their designs were often fascinating. Never having been meant to stand up under scrutiny, crudely carved players, hands like dinner rolls, feet disappearing into the base of the trophy. And this turned into a discussion of all the many old items that would never be valuable from the viewpoint of capitalism, but were more interesting than the ones that were valuable. From this, the conversation spread out into her fascination with time. And then time itself, and their childhoods, and how it was hard sometimes to remember that they themselves were adults. And in Nazr’s case, older than his parents ever lived to be.

On returning to work, Nazr started the afternoon football practice as usual. And as usual, threw himself into the rhythm of drills, spells and counter-spells that make up any football skirmish. But he found, for the first time in his life, that he couldn’t make himself fully focus. There was a part of him still thinking about the lunch, about the way her hands had looked tapping on the table. About the way she talked about time as it were not an implacable force, but an old and fallible friend. He had to continually draw himself back intro practice, and the players wondered if he perhaps was sick.

Frances stood at the window of her antique shop watching the planes fly overhead. When a person entered the shop, she would acknowledge them vaguely with a nod, and then acknowledge them vaguely with a nod again when they left. But otherwise, she kept her eyes on the window. Something in her chest felt tight, but also less heavy. She was both scared and happy, and she wasn’t sure why she was either of those. When later they both messaged and decided to go on a second date, an evening date at a nice restaurant, something with a bit more commitment behind it, neither of them connected it directly to the way they felt after their lunch together. But both of them could not contain their impatience, and had messaged that very evening. Both at exactly 10:55 PM.

Let’s have a look at that weather.

["Riches and Wonders" by Eliza Rickman & Jherek Bischoff]

There was a second date. And that night, she went with him back to his house. Then a third date, when they went to her house. Then a few more dates where they sometimes went to one of their houses and sometimes just kissed, wild with the feeling of it. Out in the park lot of whatever restaurant or bar they had met at, before saying good night because they had to work in the morning, and they were adults who sometimes had control of themselves.

This was not one of those nights, though. This was a night that she was in his bed and he was asleep. This was a little over a month after their first date. As she lay sleepy and happy, she watched the TV, which was tinting the darkness a soft fickering blue. It was an old episode of “Friends”, in which Joey rolls limply and slowly, over the course of 21 minutes, across the apartment while out of focus in the background, Phoebe searches desperately through every cabinet and screams. Frances had seen the episode too many times to laugh out loud at, but still it felt comforting to watch, like sitting in a room that she liked. The episode had become a place she could go, rather than a story to follow.

There was a commercial break and a PSA from the Secret Police came on, featuring the adorable cartoon spokesdog, Barks Ennui. He capered about, pointing out all the different ways one could break the law in Night Vale and get sentenced to a forever term in the abandoned mine shaft outside of town. She found herself grinning at his bad puns in the section about reporting on your neighbors: “Traitorous activities can be ruff! Go fetch us their deepest secrets!” And then Barks said her name. His cartoon canine face turned directly to the screen and he said, “Frances.” She didn’t know how to respond. A commercial had never spoken to her, and certainly it had never done what Barks did next, which was to step out of the TV screen in a clumsy flopping movement and then sit up, a two-dimensional flickering cartoon dog standing in the bedroom.

“Frances,” Barks said. “You aren’t supposed to be here. This doesn’t belong to you.” He cocked his animated head, the wall of Nazr’s apartment vaguely visible through him, as though through heavy fog. As his head turned, it sagged in the direction of the ground, stretching and distorting his cartoon puppy face until it was a series of drooping ovals. When he spoke again, his voice sounded stretched too. “You will have to make this right, Frances!” he garbled. [muddled] “You will have to make this right!”

She screamed. Nothing happened. She screamed.

Stay tuned next, just – stay tuned. Next.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Welcome to 2018. The year we finally do it. The year we eat the sun.

[greeneyedgirls4]

A friend like you

Request for the wonderful @fanboyswhereare-you - Seb and the reader are friends and he takes her to meet her celeb crush (Jensen Ackles). I really hope you like it!

Sebastian Stan, Jensen Ackles and the reader/you. Happy ending (you all know me so well). Feedback is always welcome and if you have a one shot request, storyline/character/real person or numbers request then please read here. Thanks for the request and enjoy!  My Masterlist is here. :)

You call round to his apartment hoping in the back of your head that he has forgotten your birthday. You already know your parents, family and friends will have a huge birthday party for you but you just hope Seb hasn’t went to too much bother since he has only got back from filming for several months.

Knocking on the door he answers in nothing but his loose jogging bottoms. His toned, and tired looking, body on full display which only causes you to roll your eyes. “I’m guessing the flight last night got delayed..”

You see him nod and rub his eyes as he takes in your awful state. “And I’m guessing the date last night didn't go too well..”

“Shut up Seb! It went fine.” You reply, walking into his kitchen only to find the cupboards empty. “Did you not even pick yourself up anything to eat for breakfast on your way home from the airport last night?”

“No I was kind of a bit tired. It was a twelve hour flight and I had only slept for a few hours before it.”

Smiling up at him you take his hand in yours and lead him to the bedroom. “I know you don't sleep well on planes so get changed and don't give me any excuses. I’m taking you for breakfast.” You say, closing the door behind you and still praying that he has forgotten your birthday. You knew he was stressed with work and you didn't want him having to stress even more over buying you something too.

An hour later. An hour! He finally comes shuffling into the living room with decent looking clothes on. Well jeans, a plain white top and his favourite trainers could be the closest Seb was to decent right now and he had actually combed his hair.. which was a surprise to you since you had hardly ever seen him comb it for breakfast. You knew he loved his hair but he would mostly just run his fingers through it. God his hair annoyed you with how perfect it sat all the time while your own was a Royal mess half the time even after styling.

“You ready to go Seb?”

You walk towards the door only to be stopped by a groan leaving Seb’s lips. "Damn he’s running late.”

Turning to face him you frown when you spot him looking down at his phone like all belonging to him is dead. “What’s wrong?”

You see his eyes flick between you and the phone before he shakes his head and leads you out the door. “Nothing. I was meant to be meeting a friend tonight but he’s running late so it may not happen.”

“That’s a shame.” You reply, linking your arm with his as you both make your way towards the coffee shop at the corner of the block. “I hope he knows he’s missing out on spending time with a hot hunk like you.”

“Oh he totally is missing out.” You hear Seb sarcastically reply and you both burst out laughing.

After a few minutes of silence you decide to speak first when you arrive at the coffee shop and order your food and drinks. “Where were you planning on going with him?”

“Nowhere special, maybe just a bar or something.”

“Men..” You watch Seb look at his phone every few seconds which starts to make you uncomfortable. “Do I have to be your mother today? Put the phone away.” You say causing Seb to raise his eyebrows at you.

“You’ll make a brilliant parent one day with that tone doll.” He says and you can see the mischievous glint in his eyes as he relents and puts his phone into his pocket.

“See? That wasn't too hard.” You say, smiling across the table at Seb before looking at the waitress who has just arrived with yours and Seb’s fry ups, hot chocolate and coffee. “Thanks.”

You both eat in silence with the exception of you both casually singing a few lines of songs coming from the radio playing in the corner of the coffee shop.

“I have a present for you later.” You suddenly hear Seb say and you whip your eyes up to meet his tired steel blue ones.

“What for?”

You both laugh as you try, and fail, to feign innocence. “Oh come on! You didn't think I’d forget my best friends birthday?”

“Damn! What do you have planned?” You ask, putting down your money for breakfast and allowing Seb to walk you home.

“You’ll see.” And with that said you both walk back home in silence again.

You loved your friendship with Seb. You loved how you could go days without speaking then suddenly come back together and speak for hours without taking a breath or how, like now, you could talk about a random thing for a few minutes then have this comfortable silence in between conversations. It just felt so natural and you were more than thankful that he was your best friend even though sometimes he could be a pain in the backside.. like now.

“Your going to have to at least tell me what to dress up in for this surprise..” You whisper as you stand in front of your apartment building.

“Just whatever you women like to wear.”

“Are you for real?” You exclaim, throwing your hands up in the air. “Us women like to wear all sorts of things so be more specific.”

“Fine! That black jumpsuit you had on for my going away to film party.. wear that. It really highlighted your curves.”

“Now you just sound gay Seb..”

“And what’s wrong with that?” He says as you smile up at him.

“Nothing wrong with it. I have many gay friends and I love them. It’s just that for a straight man like you it’s a bit odd that your so good at giving advice to me on what to wear to highlight my curves.”

“I’ll see you later doll. Be ready for seven!” He shouts before he disappears into the crowd.

That night you wait outside your apartment building at seven on the dot but you cant see Seb. Maybe he got held up. He was tired so he could have fallen asleep. Just as your about to back inside you hear a car horn and someone calling your name. Turning you see Seb hanging out the window of his car with a large smile on his face.

“Jump in doll!”

Doing as he says you hop into the passenger seat and get comfortable. “So where are we heading?”

Oh there is that smile again. He really does love to leave you in suspense. “Just put the music on.”

You arrive at your favourite restaurant in downtown New York and you can’t keep the smile off your face when you see who is standing at the door with a bunch of red roses in his arms. “Is that..?”

“Oh yes. I called in a favour and thankfully he made it back here in time.” You hear Seb whisper but your too focused on the equally beautiful man coming towards you.

“Hi, you must be y/n.. I’m Jensen.” Jensen Ackles. The actual Jensen Ackles is standing two feet away from you and all you can do is nod like a bobble headed dog. “Well these are for you.”

You take the flowers from him and smile up at him again. Seb nudging you slightly to break you from your trance. “Yes. Thank you. Erm.. it’s a pleasure to meet you.” You say, holding your hand out and letting him shake it. He touched you! Ok now you think your dreaming.

“You too. Shall we?” Jensen says, putting his arm out which you take way too quickly.

“I’ll meet you all inside..” You hear Seb say.

You look back at him and whisper a low ‘thank you’ as all of your family and friends cheer in celebration inside at your arrival.

Everyone needs a friend like yours.

Tagging: @deathbyukmen @ex-bookjunky @fanboyswhereare-you and anyone else who wants to read this. If you want tagged in any of my stories or certain character/actor stories then please let me know :) Just have a look at my Masterlist and tell me which characters/people you would like to be tagged in from now on.

[saviormysticmeme]

Well, this is kinda angsty, but can I request a scenario where zen & mc are together and in the last rfa party zen slept with jaehee and after a few days jaehee couldn't deal with the blame and told mc in front of all rfa but MC pretended not to believe her (andthenrfa*cof*saeran*cof*tryingtocomforther). This is ridiculously specific, i know lolol but feel free if you don't want to do it, it's okay, or if you want to change anything just do it 😅 I love love love your blog and your writing ❤❤❤❤❤

Ok so this post actually ended up being realllly long and I don’t know how to do the ‘read more’ thing so I’m really sorry to anyone trying to scroll byOops 

And I’m so glad you like my writing, and I’m also really glad I got this request because at first I wasn’t sure how to write it (I basically ended up writing a fanfiction using bullet points haha oops) but I had a lot of fun doing it.

Disclaimer: I don’t think Zen would ever cheat and I actually don’t think Jaehee has any romantic feelings for him, just admiring adoration.

And I know you said I could change thingsbut it’s rlly angsty and I’m an angst monster and I kinda love it sooo i’m gonna keep it exactly how you wrote it  

let’s do it

Zen had always been flirty with you

And at some point..you had started flirting back

And soon it was more than flirting and you found yourself head over heels for each other

Constant phone calls too each other where you’d gush over how you wished you could see each other

Good morning and Goodnight texts

The occasional shameless flirt in the public chat

Once you two met at the first RFA party it was like a scene from a Disney movie, you two all but ran to each other and he swung you around once he snagged you in a tight embrace

Looking into his eyes you swore this could be love

He did too.

He really did swear he was in love with you

You were everything he had hoped and more

You were the person that woke him up everyday and put a smile on his face, you were the person that he thought of when love songs came on the radio, when he was on stage you were his muse, when he lay down to sleep at night you were the final thought in his head, and the first one in his dreams.

The next RFA party was a few months after you two had first met in person, only a couple months into your very happy relationship

You two had spent the first half of the night joined at the hip, happily enjoying each other’s company.

But somewhere throughout the nights timeline you both got distracted by separate guests and acquaintances and wandered away from each other.

Zen started drinking. Whoever he was talking to kept egging him on and the two of them were having a good ole time, which is rare for Zen in these occasions because the guests are usually upper class aristocrats like Jumin or if they are there for Zen, it’s as fans instead of friends

So he thought he’d treat himself

It got to be a bit much

The other guests were starting to notice and Jumin was not going to have the press covering Zen’s drunken gusto at an RFA event

“Assistant Kang,” Jumin sauntered over to Jaehee while keeping his eyes on Zen. “please escort Hyun to the back where he can cool down, out of the cameras’ lines of sight.”

“Of course, Mr. Han” And Jaehee was off. She was relieved that she had an excuse to get Zen out of the room, she too recognized the bad press that could follow this event but felt she hadn’t had the authority to tell Zen otherwise

But under the guise of Jumin’s will, she was able to convince Zen to head to the back so ‘Jumin wouldn’t bitch’ (in the words of the actor).

Soon it was just the two of them in the back room, Jaehee giving Zen water as he yanked at his shirt collar, complaining it was hot.

In his drunken shenanigens he managed to undo all his buttons at some point while Jaehee was getting more water, so she came back to shirtless Zen.

Zen knew those eyes.

As the assistant stared at his pectorals with a slight blush on her cheeks, he looked into her eyes and saw something

Adoration. Admiration. Want.

She wanted him.

Somewhere, deep in his psyche, behind the pseudo narcissist wall, 10 year old Hyun Ryu craved the attention. The positive attention his mom said he’d never get

He had you

But in that moment he had Jaehee too, and he couldn’t turn that down

…

Jaehee doesn’t even know how it initiated, she just recalls Zen pressing her against the wall and kissing her with a passion she’s never felt before.

His hands undoing the buttons of her shirt

His lips whispering praises of how she was not only successful, but also beautiful. And so sweet. And smart. And-

She almost cried. Someone as talented as Zen saw something so great in someone as plain as her? Impossible.

But he kept assuring her, and touching her, and loving her

Loving her the way he should have been loving you

The guilt hit her, but she watched it disappear as ecstasy took over

…

Zen passed out once they were both finished, pants undone and shirt wide open, but eyes closed and soft breaths flying in and out of his lips

Jaehee was wide awake though.

She was leaning against the wall, clothes messily pulled back on and tears threatening her eyes

The guilt was back and it felt like the weight of the world’s biggest mistake was sitting on her shoulders

She put her hands over her mouth as she stared at Zen, and she started crying when she thought of you.

“What have I done?”

 After every party, the RFA gets together a few days later to go over logistics. What worked, what didn’t, who came, how to convince more people to come, etc

Jaehee’s heart dropped as you and Zen walked in together, a bright smile on your face, a blank slate on his.

No not blank

When Jaehee met his crimson eyes she saw it, the same thing he probably saw in her eyes: Guilt. Remorse. Regret.

She could barely stomach the feel as you greeted her and hugged her

“Jaehee! Good to see you! I feel like we didn’t get to talk much at the party thanks to someone making a little scene” As you pulled away you playfully rolled your eyes towards Zen. 

He just gave a nervous chuckle

Jaehee opened her mouth, ready to spill her guts, only to find it was dry as cotton. 

You gave her a quizzical look, ready to ask what was wrong, but Jumin’s voice interrupted with “Shall we begin?” looking pointedly at the three of you.

“Yahoo~” Seven cheered as he plopped down next to Saeran, who had recently been getting dragged along to all the RFA meetings, given he tended to just sit in the corner and pout.

Much like right now. He did little more than look at you and nod, which was as courteous a greeting as you were going to get with him.

Yoosung nodded, signaling everyone was ready, and the discussion began

 You all were about 30 minutes into the conversation

Except for Jaehee

She couldn’t stop thinking about what happened the night of the party

She couldn’t stop looking at you and feeling guilty

She couldn’t stop thinking about telling you

“I need water” She stood up abruptly, startling everyone a bit

Jumin had a bit of an annoyed look on his face but conceded with “Fine. Quick 5 minute break for everyone”

Jaehee booked it to the kitchen

“Uh…I’m thirsty too.” Cue Zen bee-lining after her.

“Are you Okay??” He asked in a harsh whisper

“No I’m not okay!” Jaehee hissed back “We…we have to tell her.”

“No!” Zen’s eyes widened “No. You and I both know it was a mistake that will never happen again. She doesn’t need to know.”

“Zen if you love her-”

“I do love her!” He snapped back “I love her which is why I can’t lose her Jaehee. I know we messed up, I do. But..I can’t lose her over my mistakes” His eyes were pleading even more than his voice

Jaehee just stared into the crimson orbs, feeling the knot in her stomach grow. She just weakly nodded.

There was a moment of silence before she chugged her glass of water and turned to head back towards the living room where everyone was seated

She took a strong stride in

She bit her tongue

She was not going to-

You were the first face she met walking back in

Your smile welcoming her back to the circle

Your eyes cheery

Your heart open to her as it had been since the first day even when she treated you coldly.

Zen was right behind Jaehee and nearly bumped into her when she stopped dead in her tracks

“Jaehee?” You and he called at the same time, him due to her abrupt stop, and you because of the tears suddenly pouring from her eyes.

“Jaehee what’s wrong?” You rushed to her, attracting everyone’s attention

You caught Zen’s face from over her shoulder, his eyes wide. Knowing.

“M-MC” Jaehee choked out

“W-What is it?” You asked worriedly taking her trembling hands in yours

“MC” Her voice fell. There was just a moment of silence. Everyone in the room was looking, the outburst had even taken a hold of Saeran’s full attention.

“Zen and I…we’ve done something awful” 

You knew what she was suggesting but..no. No you didn’t. No way that’s what she meant you’re just confusing things.

“…What did you do?” You asked cautiously

Sniffling. Endless sniffling. You looked to Zen, who was pale and looked like he was also ready to cry.

“Zen…what happened?”

“I’m so sorry” He managed to get out before the lump in his throat clogged his vocal cords.

“At the party MC we- we had….” Jaehee couldn’t get the filthy three letter word out of her mouth

You dropped her hands and looked to Zen

“MC I’m so sorry” Zen repeated, his voice shaking even more

Everyone was quiet, waiting for your response

You had none. Just an empty stare and mouth slightly agape, waiting for words to come out of their own accord

 Finally they did

“This is a really cruel joke to play” You feigned a very obvious forced smile as your eyes blinked back tears “I never thought you guys would do such a thing..haha” You wiped a way a small drop ready to roll down your cheek

“MC!” Jaehee exclaimed “This isn’t-”

“Jaehee.” Your voice dropped. “I really don’t find this funny.”

“Neither do I!” The brown haired girl went to take your hand again but you pulled away

“And Zen” You turned to him “I don’t- I don’t know..how…” You couldn’t finish the sentence

They were everywhere. Pouring down your face, flooding your eyes, gathering in a small pool at your chin. It was an onslaught of tears rolling down your cheeks, choking your words, your thoughts, your everything.

“MC” Zen reached out to you, only to have his hand swatted away by yours.

You just stared at him and cried, forcing him to look you in the eyes as your faux smile fell to pieces. 

You felt a hand softly fall upon your shoulder, and you turned to see Seven looking at you, apologetic pity in his eyes. Saeran stood behind him, wearing an angrier version of his twin’s sentiment. 

“Let’s go for a ride, get some fresh air, huh MC?” The red head’s voice was soft

You softly nodded and let him guide you towards the door, not even able to muster up to energy to look back at Jaehee and Zen. 

Saeran did however, and he looked back towards the two with a face full of disgust, up until the moment he slammed the door

“what a good meeting” Jumin grumbled under his breath as he turned a disdainful eye towards Zen

 You drove for a couple hours probably. Most of it in silence, but a comfortable one. You were in the passenger seat and Saeran was in the back, Seven at the wheel finding desolate roads and flying down them, giving the wind of your open window some sort of purifying feeling. It stung, but it felt good. Your hair whipped around and the land raced by and you occasionally sobbed but that was ok.

Eventually you found yourself back at the Chois’ place, sitting on the couch, staring at a TV playing a movie that you hadn’t been paying attention to for the last hour. Your mind was elsewhere, wondering what you had done wrong.

You looked at the carton of ice cream in your hand, only doing so because the sight of Saeran setting his own empty one on the coffee table had triggered you to remember Seven had given you your own carton to drown your sorrows in.

The redhead had actually gone out to buy more, so it was just you and Saeran on the black leather couch staring at the TV screen.

“Do you want this?” You offered the ice cream to Saeran who’s expression turned from bored to surprised, probably because you’d been silent for the past six hours aside from a sob here and there.

“You don’t want it?”

“I’m not hungry”

He stared at you and the carton for a second, his face unreadable.

He wanted to insist you eat the ice cream, because personally he found it to always make him feel better, but he figured you didn’t want to hear it.

He took the carton from your hands and placed it on the table in front of you two

Silence aside from the noise of the TV.

He cast a glance to you, only to find your eyes on the floor.

“doyou wantalk” You barely understood what he said it was so quiet

“What?” You looked to him

He thought you were asking out of surprise rather than inaudibility and “My therapist…he says that talking things out makes you feel better.” He looked indignant for a moment, likely remembering how stupid he felt when he rejected the idea only to find later that his therapist had been correct

“I…I have nothing to say” Your shell of a voice whispered

Saeran furrowed his brows at you. “Say you hate them”

“What?”

His voice raised a bit “You hate them don’t you? So say it. The therapist said talk about your feelings so start there. They’re scumbags who hurt you and deser-”

“No!” You’re voice hit a volume it hadn’t reached in hours. “I don’t hate them!”

Saeran was mixed with confusion and anger “What do you mean you don’t hate them? One of your best friends and your boyfriend fucked-”

There it was

Someone finally said it.

The hot tears made a return and began rolling down your cheeks as sudden sobs erupted from your mouth

Saeran was alarmed at the sudden show and tried to pinpoint the trigger. He supposes it could be his last sentence but it’s not as if it wasn’t something we all knew.

“I….I don’t hate them” You cried once the worst of the sobs subsided.”I don’t even think I want to hate them. I mean it’d be easier but…I don’t. Jaehee…it’s not her fault. She just..got wrapped up in it all. And she’s always liked Zen. How could she have said no. And he..he was drunk” You sputtered out your rationalizations to find that they only annoyed Saeran

“The Assistant should still no better. But fine. You know what? She’s not dating you, and clearly she triggered you finding out the truth. So let’s pretend she’s ok? What about the actor? I don’t care that he was drunk. There’s no excuse for him doing that!” The white haired boys voice had become louder and louder, fists clenching tighter and tighter as he began riling up old feelings of betrayal he once felt. “He abandoned you! He left you in the dust and for what? He failed you!”

You don’t know when it happened but Saeran had turned towards you and grabbed your hands, squeezing them tight in between his own. His mouth was contorted into some sort of snarl and you saw a fire raging behind his minty eyes. 

“Saeran..you’re hurting my hands” You squeaked out.

Your small voice dragged him out of whatever memory he was reliving and he sort of faded back into reality with a few blinks of his eyes before turning his attention to his hands. He let go of yours and in a flat voice uttered a “sorry”.

You guys were silent again, just staring at the floor, both living in whatever sad memory chose to cross your brains.

“You deserve better is all” He finally said.

“I know” You replied, voice empty of any real feeling.

You looked up, staring at the TV but not actually watching as a man on a horse offered a hand towards a young woman. “I just can’t stop thinking about him. About the him I fell in love with. Is he really gone?”

Saeran followed your gaze to the TV, looking on as the girl hopped on the horse. “I think so. That’s assuming he was the guy you thought he was at any point.”

“He was.” You said, a little defensive. Saeran looked towards you, watching your emotionless expression, knowing that there was a storm underneath despite the calm appearance. He knew because he often did the same, rocking a stoic appearance while watching all hell break loose in his own head.

“Is this the part where I say ‘It gets better’?” 

“Do you believe that it does?”

“Not a fuckin’ chance” A bitter smirk twisted his lips 

“I appreciate the honesty” You sighed

“Not in the way that we think it will anyway” He looked off into space somewhere.

“Hm?” You turned to him

“Everyone imagines that one day soon they’re going to wake up and suddenly it’s not going to hurt anymore. That there’s gonna be a day when you don’t think about this. You’re always gonna think about it. You’re always gonna wonder what you did wrong. Why God hates you. What things would be like if it didn’t happen.”

“You don’t think that there can be a day when it all feels ok?” You ask, partially to heal your hopeless heart, and partially because you see Saeran is projecting his own feelings and you’re curious to know how he feels.

“Maybe. I haven’t hit it yet though. Doubt I will.” 

You stared as he looked off into the distance, feeling as if you could see the scenes of his past playing in his eyes.

You were just about to recede back into your ball of depression and hopelessness before he spoke again and took your attention

“But that’s me. You’re…you, MC” your questioning look prompted him to continue “You’re…a good person.”

“You are to-” You went to say but he cut you off by turning and leaning towards you with a new intensity in his face.

“Not like you. If at all” He scoffed. “ You though, everyone loves you. And they’re right too. Because…” suddenly he stopped himself, seeming to turn a little shy.

“Because?” You wanted, no, needed to hear this.

He gulped down his fear and turned his eyes to the side, unable to look at you as he delivered his next few words, scared of you seeing through him even more than you usually do. 

“MC, you’re..everything. You’re smart, you’re cute, and you’re …kind. You always know what to say to help everyone. And that’s the thing. You try to help people, even people trying to hurt you…” His eyes turned back to you “You saw a good in me even when I didn’t. You risked your life to help my brother to save me. You’re…kind of like an angel.”

You just stared, taken aback by such kind words, from Saeran of all people. 

You were right to be surprised, he wasn’t usually this smooth in conveying his feelings verbally…there must have just been something about you that made it easy for him to talk.

“If it gets better for anyone, it’ll be for you, MC” He reached for your hand out of instinct, but pulled back instantly when your skin touched, as if he just realized what he was doing. His eyes did the same, it looked like he just realized how vulnerable he was in that moment, and a sort of wall was raised behind his irises and his whole body tensed a bit.

He was scared of being rejected.

 …

Your hand slowly reached out to his, which was floating in the space between you two, and when he didn’t pull back, you interlaced your fingers together. 

A look of awe decorated both of your faces.

“Thank you…Saeran.” The light of the TV bounced off your wet eyes, making them look extra glossy.

The boy just looked at you, wide eyed, apprehensive for a moment, then nodded and tightened his grip on your hand. It wasn’t the same anger induced bear trap grip from when he grabbed them before. Now it was just firm, reassuring, like a hug.

“MC…things will get better for you. If not? I’ll make them.” He gave a subtle squeeze of the hand, giving you the nostalgic feeling of a pinky promise.

“You already did.” You let your head, heavy from spinning and sobbing all day, fall on his shoulder.

He just looked at you for a moment, before taking a deep breath a pulling you closer, his free hand rubbing your back gently. 

Maybe he was wrong

Maybe things would get better for him too