#it REALLY sucks to find emergency placement

[followthebluebell]

Hi!

I'm interested in fostering, but am a renter. Because rental companies are not known to be reasonable, I think it unlikely that I could get official permission to foster with terms that wouldn't screw me over, though my apt does allow cats.

I normally wouldn't think twice about lying to subvert an obviously bad system (and taking full responsibility if I was caught), but I wanted to make sure I'm not missing something that would have consequences for the rescue as opposed to me personally if my landlord discovered my unsanctioned fostering. Slash whether this is even feasible or if rescues take foster background checks seriously enough to immediately uncover my deception.

If you don't feel comfortable answering a q about how to get away with duplicitous behavior I totally understand. Thanks!

Yeah, this is very far out of my wheelhouse. I'm not a lawyer and I don't handle home placements--- I can say that you are very likely to be found out because most places actually WILL call your landlord to ensure you do have permission to foster or adopt. I can't say ALL places do this, but many do.

Rescues also talk to each other and share names. Lying is a quick route to a blacklist that could go VERY wide.

look, if you want to foster, just ask your rental company. Yeah, they might say 'no' or give you unfavorable terms. That would suck. But it would suck WAY MORE to be blacklisted by rescues in your area.

[altijdjouwnaantje]

Lol this poll didn't let me vote, and it's good too cause I undercounted.

There was the time I slipped while walking on an oil drum (I had learned it in a circus workshop, but you shouldn't do it with shoes on wet grass) and I sprained my ankle real bad. (Forgot on my first, second and third count)

And that time a couple weeks later when my toes were turning blue and I was still in my cast. (I was fine.) (Forgot on my first, second and third count)

That time I had my tonsils out. (Forgot on first count.)

That time I was riding my bike to school, I got hit by a car and I was actually in an ambulance (just a black eye, it was an ultra-low-speed collision)

That time I had sinus-surgery. (Forgot on first count.)

That time I was riding my bike to college and there were roadworks and I took a 4m tumble onto the quay below and I was lucky enough to only have a mild concussion, some bruises and a factured metacarpal.

And that time after the metacarpal surgery when they'd replaced the initial open plaster-of-paris cast with a synthetic one, and my arm and fingers started to swell up real bad and they had to cut off the cast around midnight and I had to sit with my arm vertically up in the air for like two hours before they put on a new cast. (Forgot on first and second count.)

That time I was actually in real danger when I had a deep vein thrombosis and I learnt that not every visit to the emergency room is a bunch of sitting around waiting to be seen and it's actually really scary when the ER doctor already has a consulting specialist at your bedside before you're even wheeled in back from imaging. (Forgot on the first and second count.)

Of course my first and second C-sections.

Oh and my first and second IVF egg retrievals. The second one was really bad. (Forgot on the first, second and third count.)

Oh and probably the Christmas incident when I was like ... 3/4/5-ish and all us grandkids were playing in my grandmother's back room and I tumbled crotch-first onto the pointy corner of a wooden toy chest and bled like you wouldn't believe, but I'm not sure if I actually went to hospital for that, or if I just ruined our GP's Christmas. (Forgot on my first and second count.)

Oh and I wouldn't list my current IUD placement, that was more of a routine placement, but for my first ever IUD I nearly passed out at the initial appointment so I had it placed under sedation. (Forgot on first, second, third and fourth count. I had to be cleared for the procedure because I was still on bloodthinners after the deep vein thrombosis. It's minor but it wasn't routine so I feel like it still counts.)

So euhm... I was going to have voted 3-4, then 5-6, then 7-8 but I'm definitely in the 11 or more bucket.

And this, my dears, is why self-reported findings are not to be trusted. People's memories suck and also it's not always clear if an event is qualifying or not.

For the purposes of this poll, do NOT count the following:

Your own birth (unless there were complications/urgent concerns)

Routine check-ups or scheduled-in-advance appointments that just happened to be at a hospital

Visiting or accompanying someone else to the hospital

Use your discretion as to whether to count visits to urgent care.

–

We ask your questions anonymously so you don’t have to! Submissions are open on the 1st and 15th of the month.

[mourntheantagonist]

I was just reminded of something that’s going down in my college town and thought it could make for a really interesting harringrove premise so, here you go.

so essentially, about three weeks before school started, this new apartment complex that a bunch of people signed leases for and were preparing to move into send out a memo that they won’t be finished building in time, and that students have to find other living arrangements for the time being. what this wound up leading to was hundreds of students being shoved into every vacant unit they could find in town which leads me to…

steve signs a lease with that apartment complex. everything about it looked so promising and it was supposed to be incredibly nice and he was not at all expecting to wind up homeless three weeks before the semester started. fortunately, however, they found a temporary placement for him at this extremely run down complex that people only opt to live in for its close proximity to campus.

steve had no intentions of having a roommate when he first signed his lease, he liked his space, but he was shit out of luck for single bedroom apartments so all he could hope for was that his temporary roommate didn’t suck.

cue billy hargrove.

steve walks in and the apartment is a mess. beer cans litter the floor, the sink is filled to the brim with dishes that have clearly been there a while. the trash is over flowing, the couch has tears in it, there are mysterious stains on the carpet, and there is a man passed out on the floor in the corner.

just as steve is about to go check out the damage on his room, this adonis of a man emerges from the bathroom with nothing but a towel hung loosely around his waist. he introduces himself as billy, and steve all but trips over himself trying to get the words out.

it’s safe to say, in that moment, steve completely forgot about the mess.

[deadboyfriendd]

𝖊𝖉𝖉𝖎𝖊 𝖒𝖚𝖓𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘

A/N: Literally a braindump of my headcanons that I am not qualified to give. I made this entirely too long and I will probably make a second part if anyone could bear the sight of it.

C/W: Mentions of cigarettes and maybe other substances, rough family and upbringings, mental illness, self-hatred and some mentions of issues with food

He 100% has ADHD, except he would have been diagnosed (if he was diagnosed at all) with hyperkinetic reaction of childhood or adolescence. They didn't recognize the name as ADD until 1980 and they didn't formally recognize hyperactivity as a part of the diagnosis without distinction until 1987. They more than likely wrote him off as an unruly child with familial problems. If they did treat him, it most likely would have been with Ritalin, which more than likely would have made him feel lethargic or paranoid. Wayne would have much rather have seen him be Eddie than a shell of a human for the sake of obedience. (This is based on my own limited knowledge of ADHD, being someone who is diagnosed with it. I took a couple psych classes and tried to do some thorough research before writing this information out.)

This is not to say that Eddie isn't smart. He actually is SUPER intelligent. This I think is canon because he's very articulate and DnD is a VERY hard game to memorize and play, and I would assume is harder to DM. If he had access to proper resources and access to a CBT like we do now, he would probably have been a child prodigy. Instruments, especially guitar, also take a lot of time and dedication and are super hard to play. School didn't work for him, especially in the 80s, because he was expected to just sit down and shut up and learn the way he was told- when in reality he just needed a little bit of understanding.

Because of the ADHD, he also sucks at impulse control and task initiation, which did not contribute to his success in school. He cannot, for the life of him, force himself to sit and complete an assignment because the immediate consequence is not right in front of him, and it's not providing him with instant gratification.

His jacket and rings are comfort objects, the weight of the jacket make him feel secure and the rings provide something to fidget with. (I resonate so deeply with this one because my rings and fingers are also the thing that I fidget with)

I assume Wayne would have gotten custody of him in an emergency placement situation when Eddie was old enough to remember it, my brain says like between 4th and 6th grade. Wayne basically had to teach him how to be a human being first- hone him in and then smooth out the edges.

Wayne loves Eddie relentlessly and would do anything to see him succeed. Him not graduating high school hurts Wayne and he secretly blames himself for not trying harder with him, but he could never quite find the right line between being Eddie's dad and respecting Eddie's boundary to come to that conclusion himself.

While Eddie loves to challenge authority, him and Wayne have a mutual respect for each other. This really sets in during Eddie's junior year when he can take care of himself and be more independent. He tries to follow the rules Wayne has set out for him, and tries really hard to be respectful of Wayne's space by not smoking pot when he's home, keeping his volume to a minimum when he's resting, or trying to keep the house clean.

Contrary to popular belief and what a lot of other people think he is, I honestly think that Eddie is an ENFP and not and ENTP. (This could just be me projecting). The reason I think this is because he was willing to follow everyone into the upside-down no matter how terrified he was just to prove that he wasn't going to run away again. (I could make an entirely separate essay talking about his ENFP stance)

He is secretly a people-pleaser. The reason he is so dramatic and walks across tables and yells at people across the cafeteria is because it makes everyone in Hellfire laugh. He loves getting the reaction out of the people he likes and he likes the attention from the reputation he has as the freak of Hawkins High, however, when that social high goes away and he's alone in his room, he doesn't sleep because he replays his mental script of that particular performance over and over again seeing what he could have done better and where he slipped up and he thinks he's the most annoying person on planet earth.

On the more light-hearted end, he has to have some kind of background noise or he'll go insane. TV, music, the radio, SOMETHING.

He has comfort TV shows and they're usually cartoons.

He hates being alone physically, but can't always handle having constant interactions with someone. Him and Wayne get along so well because they can be alone together.

He would really have moments where he would heal his inner childhood, without realizing it. He hangs out with younger people because it helps him live out what he should have had and missed out on. I like to think that if Will was living in Hawkins and got that Atari for Christmas in the first season, he would have let Eddie play as much as he wanted. He would have gone absolutely feral over a Nintendo system. He probably still has his gross, cracking Stretch Armstrong or a Gumby and Pokey. In a modern setting, he would LOVE RC cars or Nerf guns.

The Breakfast Club makes him have a physically angry reaction, but he still cried watching it.

He has problems with eating, either not eating all day and then being absolutely ravenous and destroying a small township with his hunger, or eating like a rat and surviving off of scraps and seeds all day.

Has a GIANT crush on Heather Locklear, mostly because she was with Tommy Lee, but also because she is pretty.

He is really interested in space. He was born around/lived his formative years through the time that we landed on the moon and made a ton of strides in space exploration. He keeps up on it and is actually pretty well-versed.

Because of this, Wayne also had taken him to see every Star Wars movie that had been out at the time.

He has a sweet tooth, literally ALWAYS getting a sweet snack or a coke or something.

Smoke breaks are how him and Wayne bond in absolute silence. He remembers the first time Wayne gave him a cigarette and lit it for him. Now he does it when he needs to think, or when he needs to not think. He sits outside in a plastic lawn chair and has a smoke.

He's actually pretty fond of the little trailer he lives in. Its comforting to him and he likes the freedom of being on the outskirts of town.

[embeanwrites]

Hi. I don't know if you allow requests right now, with you know... The only reason I'm writing it right now is because I don't have a slip of paper to write this on. You know how Artemis is really rude right? So how about an x reader where the reader rates everything he says with how ok it is to say it? And maybe (if you feel up to it) a confession? (like they were just friends up to this point) Just remember that you're not obligated to do any of this. Ignore it if you like.

Masterlist

A/N: I absolutely adore this idea! And with a confession? That’s a chef’s kiss right there! (Also, me? Basing the antagonist on an asshole I had to deal with at school? Yeah, it’s more likely think you’d think.) Artemis may be a little OOC, so let’s just pretend he went through a lot of character development.

Word Count: 1042

“That is absolutely the most unintelligent idea I think you could’ve come up with.” He deadpanned at one of his group members, next to him he heard you suck your breath in through your teeth and groaning. He braced himself for your rating, everyone in the group looked over at you. After a few years of knowing Artemis and you, they knew he was either about to be praised or chewed out.  

“I’m giving that one a 4 out of 10 and only that low because you’re right. Josh that’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard.” You responded as you crossed your arms and to be fair, why on earth would they propose a monorail for their group landscape project? They were given a small town in the countryside that had maybe a 100 people. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Artemis smirk, obviously happy that the number was under 5. 

This was a game that started between the two of you since you had met. Artemis had essentially torn their teacher’s syllabus to shreds day one and you leaned back in your chair with a smirk and said, “On a scale of 1 to 10, you get a 10 for ripping this man a new one.”

You both got detention that day, which frustrated Artemis, but not as much as you deciding that the two of you were going to be friends. At first Artemis attempted to ignore you as you followed him around, commenting on his remarks. But after a while, you wore him down. He found himself smiling and occasionally laughing at what you said and suddenly he didn’t find your presences to be a bother anymore. Instead, a welcome distraction from being branded as someone who’s essentially untouchable. You didn’t care about his last name and who he was, you seemed to actually enjoy being in his company. You introduced Artemis into a whole new world, including gossiping. Artemis’ parents were shocked when the two of you walked into his house laughing. 

Artemis watched as you continued to scribble down ideas for your group project. Class had about five minutes left and for your group’s sake, you had asked Artemis to not steam roll the idea. You were sicker of them coasting off him than he was. 

“It’s a small community that’s about 50 miles away from a hospital, sure they have med checks, but a real emergency room maybe our best bet.” You suggested, out of the corner of his eyes he saw you looking over quickly and fidgeting with your hands. Were you looking for his approval on your idea? That was new. 

“How’s that better than my idea?” Josh complained. “If there’s only roughly a 100 people no matter what we pick will have a small impact, they need something that will draw people in!” 

“It’s more practical!” You argued back, tensing your hands. Your attention was pinpointed onto Josh, Artemis watched your nostrils flare as you looked over at him. 

“Oh yeah, get your boyfriend to agree with you.” Josh immediately teased, causing both of you to tense, but before you could get a word in edge wise the bell rang, and Artemis watched you deflate. Josh and the rest of their group was quick to leave, but Artemis watched you lean your head back and sigh. Both of you had free period from now until the end of the day, so neither of you were in much of a rush. 

Artemis finally looked away from you as he started packing up everything, you stayed motionless. 

“Hey, are you coming?” Artemis asked softly, the way you were acting highly unusual for a Friday. He expected to see this behavior on a Monday, not now. Artemis stood in front of you trying to get your attention. You finally nodded and sigh, grabbing your stuff. Artemis had never seen you so listless. “Josh is an idiot, we’ll figure something out, we have two weeks to design the project.” 

“I know.” You grumbled as you got up and threw your backpack over your shoulder. You started walking out of the classroom, not waiting for Artemis like you usually did. Artemis sighed and followed you. Stopping at your locker, he watched you throw your books and grab your coat. 

“You’re leaving?” He asked, surprised. It was Friday tradition for the two of you to hang out in the library. It was technically your “flex period”, a new study hall that allowed students in advance placement classes to leave for internships, study time, or anything else. You closed your locker and pressed your forehead to it. “Are you…mad at me?” He asked softly. He’s never seen you like this and he’s known you for three years now. 

“10.” You murmured, surprising Artemis. 

“I know that is not the rudest thing I’ve ever said.” He said softly as he leaned against the locker next to yours, crossing his arms and smiling at you. “Now come on, we don’t keep secrets from- “

“He called you, my boyfriend. That’s what’s bothering me.” You snapped. 

“But that’s not true, he was just trying to get a rise out of you.”

“I know that.” You sighed again, pushing yourself off your locker and turned towards him. It took him a moment to realize what you were saying. 

Oh.

Oh.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” You said rolling your eyes, Artemis smiled. Even frustrated you were your regular self. “I like you; I have for a while and I know we’re just friends. I’ll get over it and- “

“What if I don’t want you to get over it?” Artemis interrupted, surprising you. Your eyes were comically wide as you blinked at him. “If you insist that we leave now instead of studying, at least let me grab my coat and we can go out on a date.” 

“We’re going to need a new scale for when you try to be romantic and miss the mark.” He laughed and rolled his eyes. He grabbed your hand and begun leading you towards his locker. 

“Yeah, yeah, give me a learning curve.” He teased, causing you to smile and lean towards him and gave him a peck on the cheek. 

“I’ll try my best.”

[retvenkos]

romantic at heart | m.

Legend of Korra - Mako x Reader, fluff

tw: none

word count: 4.6k

A/N: canon? who needs her? certainly not this fic. korrasami deserved to be canon earlier so i vaguely mentioned it, and mako and bolin’s apartment is the perfect setting don’t @ me.

Summary: Mako has always had bad luck when it comes to love, but with (Y/n), things feel easy. So why, then, is it so hard to admit it?

the three times he didn’t say it, and the one time he did.

one;

“I’m telling you guys, this is going to be great! Part Four is my favorite in The Adventures of Nuktuk: Hero of the South!” 

Mako shared an amused look with (Y/n) as Bolin led the way into the darkened theater, holding open the door for the group to enter. Asami and Korra passed hand in hand, and when (Y/n) walked past Bolin, they tossed a piece of popcorn at him and Bolin caught it in his mouth.

Mako brought up the rear of the group, and as they walked up to find their seats, he whispered, “How many parts are there, Bo?”

“Seven! And the Finale’s great, don’t get me wrong, but it just doesn’t have the heart that part four does.”

“That’s just because he kisses Ginger,” (Y/n) leaned in and whispered to Mako, earning an incredulous “hey!” from Bolin.

“How’d that work out, by the way?” Asami turned to the earthbender with what sounded like genuine curiosity and Bolin chuckled nervously.

“Ah, well, you know, the hearts of mover stars are fickle, so we didn’t last long… there was something about it being a publicity stunt, but that didn’t make much sense, so…”

“Well it’s her loss,” Korra elbowed Bolin in the side with a smile and he forced a chuckle.

“She doesn’t deserve you, Bo.”

“Yeah, you’re a great mover star.”

A few people in the theater shushed them, and the group settled down into their chairs, just moments before the lights dimmed further and the mover started. The disembodied voice of Varrick boomed through the speakers with a recap of the previous 3 parts of the daring adventure, and everyone fell silent, slowly getting sucked into the mover before them.

Ever since their debut, the Nuktuk movies were a success - a staple of Republic City culture - getting replayed in theatres again and again. After learning that Mako hadn’t seen Nuktuk in its entirety, Bolin called for a state of emergency and got the whole group together so they could schedule a time for a complete rewatch of the seven-part masterpiece.

Mako had been planning to make some excuse - a series of cases that Beifong put him up to, or a slew of paperwork that some higher-paid coworkers pawned off onto him. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to miss something for work, and it wouldn’t be the first attempt at lying to get out of a viewing party. Just three months ago he narrowly avoided a showing of Love amongst the Dragons by faking sickness and saying that Beifong told him to sleep all day so he could be back at work the next. Everyone but Bolin believed him, and Bolin (who didn’t want to see it either but promised Asami he would go) let it slide.

After that, Bolin was better at guessing when Mako was lying, and whenever he needed Mako’s compliance, he set (Y/n) up to the task of cajoling Mako to come along.

So far, their track record had been impeccable.

(Y/n) chuckled at something they saw on screen, and Mako turned to them. “How many cases of Vari-dye do you think Varrick sold after that product placement?” They gestured to the screen where the once blonde Ginger flagrantly mentioned her hair dye product before becoming a, well… ginger. The script was somehow able to loosely tie the product placement into the plot, but the moment earned a couple of well-earned laughs throughout the theater.

“Millions, most likely. Aren’t these movers big in Ba Sing Se?”

“As comedies,” (Y/n) muttered, leaning in, clearly trying to keep their voice down so Bolin didn’t hear. The theater around them was dark and silent, but the light reflected in (Y/n)’s eyes was full of life and mirth. Mako found himself unable to look away.

He cleared his throat, “You do have to give it to Nuktuk and his comedic timing.”

“And Juji’s heart-wrenching death and subsequent resurrection.”

Mako found himself chuckling at their lame joke, and for once, he didn’t mind. (Y/n) smiled triumphantly, as though they had accomplished something truly grand, and angled their bag of popcorn towards Mako. He took some and popped a piece in his mouth, his laughter still dying on his lips. 

“Varrick must be quite the director, to get you to laugh in a totally serious, not-a-comedy mover.”

“Varrick?” and there was just enough suggestion in Mako’s words to say all that he couldn’t, though why he couldn’t seem to get anything else out, he didn’t know.

Things were always easy with (Y/n); their smiles were soft and infectious, their tactics in getting him to open up were effortless and effective, and falling in love with them had been the most simple and uncomplicated thing in this world. It should have been with such ease that Mako told them that it was them that got him into the theater and their corny comments that made him burn inside, like a thousand dying comets that took the form of shooting stars.

But for some reason, he was stuck.

Unsurprising, really, Mako had never really had luck when it came to love and even friendship. There was always something complicating things; there were always two sides of him, fighting the other for reasons even he couldn’t fathom. Eventually, one of them would lose. Eventually, something would give. 

But until that eventuality…

“I suppose I am quite the comedian. Should I write a screenplay?” (Y/n) was speaking, but something in their demeanor was different - a little stunned - like they hadn’t considered something before and it was only now dawning on them, slowly, but comfortably. Easy. “It would have to be a sequel to Nuktuk, of course. Maybe I can introduce the grumpy, mysterious fire-bender who he’s now forced to share a quest with?”

(Y/n) nudged him in the shoulder, already rolling their eyes at their own idea. Mako looked down, suddenly interested in picking the perfect piece of popcorn. “Yeah. If you’re making it, why not?”

(Y/n) snorted and turned back to the film.

two;

Taking the steps to his apartment two at a time, Mako fished for his keys in the pocket of his pants. Walking the beat had the potential to be more trouble than it was worth, and often Mako found himself at the gym at the end of the day, taking out his frustration the way he used to - pro-bending. Well, not so much pro-bending, anymore, seeing as they disbanded the Fire Ferrets, and dissolved the team, but it was the same training, nonetheless, and Mako had been a pro-bender so long that oftentimes, nothing felt more comfortable than the gym.

As he walked down the hall to his door - second on the right, Bolin had insisted - Mako could hear the sounds of laughter and the beeping of the oven. Despite himself, he smiled, breathing in deeply as he fiddled with the lock and opened the door.

Inside the tiny apartment, (Y/n) and Bolin were working side by side, leaning over the oven as they looked at the baked goods that lay within. The counters were a mess of cluttered ingredients and mismatched bake wear, Pabu had tracked flour across the carpet, and by every measure it was chaotic, but Mako simply leaned against the doorframe, speaking just loud enough to be heard. “Stress baking, again? Y’know, I’m really starting to regret giving you a key.”

"This was all Bolin, actually.” (Y/n) pulled the baking sheet out of the oven and set it down before turning to Mako with their usual countenance. “He told me to come over - he bought a set of mixing bowls and everything.”

“He didn’t buy more counter space?”

“Hey!” Bolin called incredulously through a mouth full of baked goods. Pabu scuttled beneath him, eating the crumbs that fell to the floor. “Counters wouldn’t fit.”

“It’s alright Bo,” (Y/n) nudged his arm with their shoulder, turning back to the task at hand. They used an old spatula to take their masterpiece off of the pan, and Bolin took two from them. 

“You have to try this batch, Mako, (Y/n)’s gotten really good at their green tea cookies.”

“Oh?”

Mako shut the door behind him and walked over to the couch. (Y/n) met him halfway with their signature, light green cookie, Mako took it with an appreciative smile. “The secret is in the matcha. I wasn’t putting in enough before, so they didn’t taste right.”

Mako broke off a bit of the cookie, making sure to get a bit that had a white chocolate chip in it, and savored the taste. (Y/n) was watching him with one of their expectant smiles, and he nodded his head, the bittersweet flavor still lingering in his mouth. “These are your best yet.”

“High praise, coming from you.” And there was an edge of sarcasm to their voice, but their eyes were bright. Mako just looked at them for a moment, really looked at them in all of their casual beauty. (Y/n) had moved into his life so early on and so slowly that Mako didn’t know what life would be like without their casual teasing and easy grins.

And, of course, their random (but not unwelcome) bouts of stress baking.

Mako must have been staring a bit too long, because (Y/n) raised a playful eyebrow, and not too long after, Bolin broke the silence. “Uh, Pabu and I have to go, and uh... y’know, do adult stuff, with uh....”

“With Korra?” (Y/n) supplied amusedly, turning to Bolin, who was stuffing a napkin with cookies hurriedly. 

“Yeah! Y’know, Avatar stuff...” Bolin shrugged, slipping out the door, only to open it up again and grab his shoes before shoving off again.

(Y/n) scoffed and Mako sighed, calling after him. “Real smooth, Bo!” 

A muffled response called out to them, and (Y/n) laughed, walking back over to the kitchen area, where they started to put together another batch of cookies, measuring the sugar with their hands and putting it into a bowl with butter. “I’m surprised you haven’t been kicked out from noise complaints.”

Yeah, well Bolin charmed our neighbors into liking us too much to see us go.”

“His charm does go far, doesn’t it?” Mako watched and (Y/n) moved through his apartment with ease, pulling spoons out of the drawers and cleaning the dishes as they went. Their practiced movements had the surety and preciseness of someone who lived there, and the thought was enough to make Mako’s throat dry.

“So,” Mako cleared his throat and walked over to (Y/n) passing them the egg they were reaching for. “you measure everything with your hands, and yet you’re constantly insisting that baking is a science. How does that work?”

“It’s all in the weight and look of it - a full cup is a far cry from a fourth.” (Y/n) mixed the ingredients together, their brow set in concentration, “Or, at least, that’s what my mom used to say. What I will tell you—” they looked up at Mako rather suddenly, that intensity still alight within them “—is that it’s in how it feels.”

“So the weight of it.”

“Yes... but it’s more than that.” (Y/n) looked at him with their sharp eyes, as though trying to judge something. “Go wash your hands,” and they jerked their head to the side, “I’ll show you.”

Mako didn’t even hesitate to do as they said, and even though Bolin had left, he could hear his voice - a surprised “what...?” - nagging the back of his mind. It was easy to shrug off. It was (Y/n). Everything was easy when it came to them.

“Alright,” (Y/n) said, with a hint of childish excitement, as Mako slung the towel he had used to dry his hands over his shoulder. “Give me your hands.”

Their touch tickled and their fingers - dry and powdery from the flour - grazed over his, opening his palms with a gentle sort of care.

“Here is one cup or so.” (Y/n) grabbed a handful of flour, transferred it to their other hand, and skimmed some off the top before placing it in his. “Yeah, you can feel the weight, and you can see how much there is, but you have to kind of trust that what you're feeling is right, because it’s not always going to feel the same, right? When you’re tired or you’ve been baking all day, things feel different, even though they’re the same.”

“All this for flour?”

“For each cup of flour. We need two and a half.”

“I can see why Bolin asks you to do the baking.” (Y/n) chuckled and guided his hands to the mixing bowl, where Mako let the flour slip out of his fingertips like really fine sand. “But I can tell that you feel it...” the last bit of flour fell out of his hands, but Mako let his hands hover near (Y/n)’s for just a moment longer, “and that’s good enough.”

They smiled, and it has all the serenity and beauty of dawn. “I’ll make a baker of you, yet.” They added more flour to the bowl and started mixing, their gaze flicking up to Mako. “One of these days you’re going to understand the feeling of it.”

“I...” and part of Mako wanted to say that he already did, that his feelings were about the only thing he understood when it came to moments like these, but the words got caught in his throat, and he found himself unable to get them out. “I think we’ll have to do a lot more baking, then.”

three;

Mako ran, the ground beneath his feet steady and his breathing exact. The beauty of Republic City Park surrounded him and in the early morning, when the air was just nippy enough to need a jacket, there were few people to be found. The usual groups of people practicing tai chi or playing Pai Sho weren’t out yet, and the sun was just peaking over the horizon. 

Morning runs often gave Mako a sense of clarity - there was very little he could focus on when in fast, forward motion, and everything complicated fell away. It was just him, the ground, and the fire in his veins. 

Mako slowed to a jog, and when he found an empty park bench, he sat down, wiping the sweat off of his brow. The shadows were just starting to creep away, losing to the brilliance of the sun and hiding in each recess and tiny alcove. The duck pond in front of him was warming to a crystal-like blue. Mako breathed out and tipped his head back, letting the stillness wash over him, his thoughts slowly catching up with him.

“Mako?”

And at first, he thought it was just his feelings for (Y/n) meeting up with him once more, but then he heard the steady pounding of the pavement and there they were jogging toward him, ushering in the morning with a comfortable pace.

“Heading into work later than usual?” They stopped by the bench and Mako slid over so they’d have room to sit.

“No, Beifong told me to take a day off. I usually do paperwork today, but she handed it off to someone else.”

(Y/n) hummed in acknowledgement. “So you’re joining Asami and me for our run, then?”

"Huh?”

“Asami and I usually go on a run, at this time. We meet here.”

“Asami told me that I should take a run since I wasn’t going into work today.”

Both of them scoffed, relaxing deeper into the metal bench. For a moment they just sat there, taking in the moment, and letting the world dawn on them, a beautiful mixture of colors - a painting slowly completing itself. Eventually, (Y/n) turned to Mako, an eyebrow raised in jest. “Do you reckon they think they’re being slick?”

“Probably - and it’ll only get worse once they get Korra on board.”

“Who’s to say they haven’t already?” The two chuckled, shaking their heads at the efforts of their friends, and (Y/n) knocked their knees together, leaning in a little closer. “It’s alright, I like spending time with you.”

“You’re gonna hate me once we finish this run, though.”

“Then I guess you’ll have to buy me some tea, afterwards.” (Y/n) stood up, stretching their arms and letting out a yawn. “To make it up to me, of course.”

Mako stifled a smile and stood, making a show of his weary sigh. “Alright” —(Y/n) rolled their eyes at him— “You drive a hard bargain.”

They started off at a slow jog, and every minute or so Mako upped the intensity until they were sprinting across Republic City Park, occasionally dodging the wayward soul taking a morning stroll. The world blurred around them, the lush foliage turning into swaths of green with the occasional pinprick of color - purple or yellow, green or blue. As they slowed down, the world became more defined, and when they came to a walk, (Y/n) pulled ahead and turned around so they could walk backwards, facing Mako with a breathless grin.

“You owe me at least a muffin to go along with that tea, after what you just pulled. I almost ran into a woman walking her toddler! Could you imagine what would have happened, had I hit her?”

Mako laughed, still coming down from his high, and (Y/n) grinned at the sound - dazzling and so bright, it put the sun to shame. “Let’s get you out of the park, then, before you start running down Pai Sho players.” 

The two fell into step beside each other, taking the path out of the park and into the busy streets. Already, Republic City was booming with life, and the two were rather quick to slip into the quiet tea shop that was just around the corner. Inside, the cafe was fairly empty, with slow music playing from the speakers. (Y/n) closed their eyes and breathed in the smell of freshly-baked muffins, and Mako was quick to look away when they caught him staring.

(Y/n) walked towards the case that held all of the baked goods, trying to read the different types they had displayed. “This is way better than trying to throw something together at my apartment.”

Mako pulled his attention away from the menu board, where he had been searching for the right type of tea. “Your apartment? You mean you actually have a place to go, other than mine?” 

“You gave me the key.”

“For emergencies.”

(Y/n) scoffed. “Well, ‘emergencies’ is in clear need of a mutual definition.”

The two ordered, and Mako paid, despite (Y/n) saying they had the money, and when their order was ready, they took a seat in the corner, next to a window that overlooked a busy intersection. (Y/n) insisted they split the muffin and gave half to Mako, and after settling into their more calm atmosphere, (Y/n) turned to Mako.

“So, what are you going to do for the rest of your day off?” (Y/n) took a sip of their tea and fixed Mako with one of those stares - the kind that saw through everything else, and somehow got down to his core. “I can’t imagine this is what you had planned.”

“Uh… I don’t know. I figured I’d go home and work on finding a lead to a case or something.”

“Even though Beifong told you to take the day off?”

“Well, I’m not at the station…” Mako trailed off, suddenly finding great interest in the rim of his cup.

“And you’re not going to work from home, either.” (Y/n) scoffed exaggeratedly, and though Mako was the most incorrigible person they’d ever met. Although, in their defense, he probably was. “Not on my watch.”

“So what, you’re going to find something for me to do all day?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

Mako watched as (Y/n) sat back in the booth, a triumphant yet challenging smile on their face, and he felt the disbelief in his chest melt into something softer. It was there, again, that urge to say something both incredibly brave and terribly stupid; that desire to put all of his feelings into words and express them more truly than anything else.

“Alright,” Mako swallowed and allowed himself a small smile. “If that’s what it takes.

✧ *:･ﾟ

one;

Just when Mako had admitted to (Y/n) that he was an avid reader, he couldn’t remember, but at some point, they had found out, and ever since, the two spent their lazy weekends sprawled out on his sky blue sofa, books in hand. This time, (Y/n) had come earlier than usual, and by midday, they had already finished their novel - a fast-paced murder mystery with just a bit of a redemption arc for one of the main leads. They had talked about (Y/n)’s book while walking down to the market to get the necessary fixings for dinner, and when they came back to Mako’s tiny apartment, he passed them one of his favorites to read - a historical fiction that combined elements of notable legends and recorded history to make an interesting thriller with plenty of easy-to-digest drama. 

When (Y/n) took it from him, they took one look at the summary and raised an eyebrow.  “This is one of your favorites?” Mako had tried to push down his embarrassment, stuttering out some kind of response, but had just smiled. “It’s not a bad thing, just surprising. I’m sure I’ll love it.”

And they did. For the next hour and a half, the two sat in Mako’s apartment in relative silence, reading separate novels and making the occasional exclamation of shock, betrayal, joy, and surprise. Mako had looked over at (Y/n) occasionally, trying to judge where they were in the book, and whether they were enjoying it just as much as he had, the first time.

At some point in the day, the sun filtering through the window matured into a deeper, golden shade, turning the afternoon into early evening. Mako, who had been thoroughly engrossed in his novel for the better part of the day, stood up from his couch and stretched when he noticed the change in light. Letting out a sigh, he made his way over to the kitchen area. As he started to make dinner for the both of them, Mako missed the way that (Y/n) turned to look at him from their place on the couch, a lopsided grin on their face. They still lay on the turquoise material, sitting upside down with their feet in the air, book in hand and the red couch cushion resting on their stomach, watching as Mako turned on the stove with a click of propane and a bit of fire bending. 

It wasn't long before the apartment was full of the comforting smell of Mako's cooking, and soon (Y/n) found it impossible to focus on the page before them. They opted to right themself instead and watch Mako as he finished up, adding the finishing touches to the meal before splitting what lay in the pan into two different bowls. 

He handed a bowl to (Y/n) as he settled onto the couch, both of them moving to sit cross-legged, their knees touching. (Y/n) savored the flavor of Mako's signature dish, and he gestured to the book beside them. 

"How're you liking it so far?"

"The book? It's great. Perfectly paced, in my opinion, although I wouldn't mind for a little bit more world-building. The time period is so interesting and they could lean into it a little more."

Mako nodded, satisfied with the smile on their face and the eagerness in their tone. "I figured you'd like it. There's a lot happening, but the characters are good enough to carry the story."

"That's a raving review, coming from you." (Y/n) laughed, the sound falling from their lips effortlessly. "And I can see why it's your favorite. You like a good redemption arc, don't you?"

"It's an interesting enough idea."

"A rather sweet one, too. Are you sure you're not a romantic at heart?"

Mako scoffed in response, but even so, he could feel his cheeks burning up, the nagging voice in his head (the one that told him to just confess already, or do something equally as rash) getting louder from conviction. "I think that's you."

"Oh definitely, but there's always room for one more," (Y/n) mumbled through a mouth full of noodles. "And judging by your taste in books, I'd say you already are."

"There's not even a romantic subplot!"

"The main character literally took lightning to the face for his best friend, and then proceeded to say that he’d do it all again, if it meant they could stay together. Are you telling me there isn't something there?"

“You said yourself that they’re friends!”

“C’mon, Mako,” (Y/n) deadpanned, setting aside their dinner so that they could use their hands to punctuate their speech. There was a fire in their eyes, and something restless in the way they moved - like there was something important they were trying to say. “Friendship is clearly just an excuse for them.”

“An excuse?” Mako felt his throat dry. Suddenly, he was acutely aware of their proximity, and the little space that still existed between them - like they were almost touching, and yet oceans apart. 

(Y/n)’s hands fidgeted in their lap. “Yeah, like… An easy out when you’re too afraid to go for it...or when you think you’re not enough.” Part of Mako wanted to look away, but (Y/n)’s eyes had caught his gaze too fully and the other part of him battled to stay. For the longest moment, he couldn’t move. “But they love each other - you can see it.”

There was a battle waging war inside Mako; each side fighting the other for dominance, and only one coming out on top. When he spoke, his voice was low, almost like a deep sigh. “Yeah, they love each other.”

(Y/n) smiled, their mouth moving with just the slightest tremble, and part of Mako wondered what had disrupted the ease with which they did everything, but another part of him already knew. Mako reached out and cupped their cheek, the feeling of their skin against his flooding him with courage he didn’t know he had.

“And I love you, (Y/n).” 

“About time you confessed to me.” (Y/n)’s eyes sparkled in jest before they surged forward, kissing Mako and igniting the fire in his chest. All he could think about was them and the way they blissfully invaded all of his senses, how soft their lips were, and how strong their hands were, as they wrapped around him, pulling him nearer. When they broke apart, (Y/n) rested their forehead on his. 

Then they said it, their voice a whisper that sent him tumbling over the edge, their breath fanning against his cheek.

“I love you, too.”

Mako kissed them again, craving the feeling of their lips against his, chasing after the way they made him feel - like every moment had led to this, like every battle had been worth the struggle. Time seemed to stop, and for a moment, it was as though there was no gravity, and the only thing anchoring Mako to this world was (Y/n), and their touch.

“Like I said,” (Y/n) was smiling when he pulled away, and their gaze made it easy to come back down to earth. “You’re a romantic at heart.”

Mako chuckled and (Y/n) laughed with him, the sound filling the tiny apartment with something undefined but utterly perfect. 

“Alright, so maybe I am.” Mako relented, tipping his head back. “But an epic romance doesn’t happen within that book, if that’s what you're after.”

“Well, maybe we’ll have to write a sequel of our own."

-- taglist: message me if you want to be added to a taglist!

[carriesthewind]

Oh, Ana.

So AM (if you are found this, you know who he is) has been in some hot water recently over the fact that apparently he’s been facilitating America’s machinery of death and war for years while publicly positioning himself as a social justice activist.

Before I begin: it is unfortunate that the reason this was discovered is because a bunch of The Worst People on the Internet targeted him. That sucks, and I’m sure that he is currently receiving a lot of really scary harassment (in addition to bad faith attacks). I am genuinely sorry for him for that, and I hope it passes quickly and he emerges with as few scars as possible.

HOWEVER.

Ana’s “analysis” has long been a turd in the punch bowl of progressive media criticism spaces. And so I am taking the opportunity to celebrate him leaving twitter by looking at a recent-ish media “deconstruction” post that he wrote. This is partially petty point-and-laugh schadenfreude, but with the added point that Ana’s analysis is extremely bad, always, and even when he makes good points or important arguments, he makes them badly and without appropriate care.

So let’s jump right in. This is a post he made on his blog titled “Animation: Villain Eyeshadow.” I’m not quoting the entire post, just the parts I’m responding to, so I would encourage you to find the post and follow along if you want the full picture.

Ok, setting up what we are looking at here. He is going to, in a post labeled “deconstruction,” talk about queer-coded and female villains in animation through the lens of eyeshadow. It ends up being less about villains and more about sympathetic vs. non-sympathetic characters (including villains), but in fairness, this isn’t an academic essay, so I will give him a pass on the way the post shifts from its initial premise. (Except to add a petty little aside here that if you are going to call what you are doing a “deconstruction,” you should maybe pay attention to minor details like “what am I going to be analyzing.”)

So. 1) Personally, I see zero difference in the shades of eyeshadow on these characters. If there is a difference, Ana picked terrible pictures to demonstrate it.

2) The actual difference in the eyes is the shape, and, yes, the length and placement of the eyelashes. But this, to me, this is indicative of age-and-maturity-coding. Snow White is an innocent teenager, the Evil Queen is an adult. Snow White has smaller visible eyelids because she has big round innocent child eyes.

…and I just did more actual analysis of the visual differences between the characters and the effect of those differences than Ana will do at any point in this “deconstruction.”

In fact, Ana does not mention how the use of eyeshadow might be be informed by a character’s age or perceived maturity anywehre in this post, other than noting in a few places that particular characters without eyeshadow are children. He also doesn't mention class. In addition, he doesn’t really talk about either history or mechanics of animation, both of which could add interesting context here to why certain things are depicted in certain ways.

Ok, so here is Ana’s ACTUAL thesis for this post. We already see that his evidence supporting this thesis seems to be weak from the problems with the Snow White/Evil Queen pictures. Let’s see if his later examples demonstrate an actual pattern, and how well he does analyzing any patterns he finds.

So Ana has correctly identified the amount of eyeshadow depicted on the characters this time (yay!) But he’s already building in exceptions to his hypothesis that will need to be accounted for and addressed in more detail; otherwise he’s just handwaving away contradictory data and saying it doesn’t count.

Ok. So Ana is not asserting that the eyeshadow coding he is positing is universal. That’s…good, actually! Any given kind of coding usually won’t be universal, especially in a medium like animation! Acknowledging (and, at the 201 level, discussing potential explanations for) the exceptions is a necessary part of any analysis. Good job Ana, you get a cookie.

…Ana, I’m going to need you to give me that cookie back.

Ana, I know you understand the difference between eyeshadow and eye-bags. I know you know, because you literally just said it. And then you put these two pictures together, right next to each other, and reviewed them with your own eyes. Oh my god.

…The Lady’s eyelids are shaded. We can see it in this picture, that you posted, in your post.

What…what do you mean you “don’t know what to make of that”? Do you think that Disney is tricking you by not including the coding you are hypothesizing in every single one of its movies? Do…do you know how coding works? Or animation? I already took away the cookie I gave Ana for realizing that it wouldn’t make sense for this coding to be universal back when he was talking about Alice in Wonderland, so unfortunately I cannot now take it away for forgetting the point he seemed to understand just a few movies ago.

Ana, you owe me a cookie.

…Also, he picked a scene of the squirrels where the girl squirrel has her eyes half-closed, so we can see her eyelid shading. If he had included a picture of Arthur-squirrel with his eyes half-closed, we would be able to see his eyelids shaded in the exact same manner. Oh no! Is the Sword in the Stone secretly about how Arthur is trans???

(ANA THAT IS A JOKE)

So, this looks to me like an animation artifact? And while I didn’t rewatch the movie, after a quick google search I couldn’t find any other frames or images that show Prince John having different-colored eye shading.

ANA I KNOW YOU KNOW WHAT EYE-BAGS ARE, I AM BEGGING YOU

Gee, Ana, I thought this was a deconstruction - haven’t we previously established that bumbling and ineffective sidekick villains shouldn’t get eyeshadow?

…

...

...

ALSO WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T TELL WHAT’S GOING ON WITH HIS EYES

HAVE YOU EVER WATCHED ANIMATION BEFORE

CAN YOU SEE ANY OF THE REST OF THE FEATURES THEY CHOSE TO INCLUDE IN HIS FACE

ANA WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT

So. Two things here: one, this is supposed to be a deconstruction. Ana has already demonstrated that femininity actually does not equal eyeshadow in this film. In fact, from the evidence he has presented, there appears to be a better correlation between “eye-shading” and “animated object.” Two, with all of these characters: is eye-shadow supposed to be something we should be wary of, or not? Because with the exception of Lefou, all of the examples he's shown in this movie are of sympathetic characters.

Oh, cool, Ana admits that sometimes eyelids are just shaded slightly differently in animation because that’s a stylistic thing about animation, now that it would hurt the point he is trying to make if he applied the same standard he was applying previously. Also,

This is the picture Ana used to evidence his contention that Jasmine has no eyeshadow in her red outfit. It's a frame in which it looks an awful lot like she is wearing red eye shadow. Like, looking at some other stills from this scene, I don’t think she is supposed to be wearing red eye shadow? I think it’s just the lighting of this particular scene combined with the red outlines? But this was a terrible piece of evidence to use to make that argument, almost like Ana is grabbing screenshots to support the conclusions he’s already come to, without really looking at them. 

Ana. Ana. I am going to have to breeze right past calling Frollo “queer-coded” because that’s not what this post is about.

“Frollo has eyes that just…are naturally shaded, even in the bright of day.”

Ana.

ANA.

WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT

THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE A POST ABOUT VILLAIN EYESHADOW

YOU ARE OSTENSIBLY WRITING ABOUT HOW ANIMATION USES VISUAL CODING

WHY ARE YOU CONFUSED ABOUT WHY THE EVIL OLD MANIPULATIVE VILLAIN IS BEING PORTRAYED WITH DEEP-SET AND SHADOWED EYES

HAVE YOU EVER WATCHED A MOVIE BEFORE

EYESHADOW???

EYESHADOW?!?

EYESHADOW?!?!?!?!

HAVE YOU EVER SEEN A HUMAN FACE BEFORE

Ana. Ana please I beg you. These men are not wearing eyeshadow. Their eyes are deep-set into their skulls, to make them look skeletal (not feminine!) and villainous. Ana I have to believe that you know this.

These two examples have exhausted me so much I’m skipping the rest because nothing can live up to these heights (down to these depths?).

This is a ok point. It is both accurate and and there is sufficient evidence in this post to back it up. It is also completely banal.

This may or may not be true…but no consistent pattern is evidenced by this post. By my count, Ana talks about 34 movies. She provides evidence that actually supports this claim (that eyeshadow is present or darker for morally bad characters and lighter or absent for morally good characters) for…eight of those movies (Sleeping Beauty, 101 Dalmatians, Rescuers Down Under, Oliver & Company, The Little Mermaid, the Aladdin sequel show, Simba’s Pride, and The Emperor’s New Groove.)* I counted at least seven movies where the only characters presented wearing eyeshadow, sometimes heavy eyeshadow, are morally good or neutral characters.

*I’m not including any movies where there are multiple villainous characters who should have darker/present eyeshadow if Ana’s pattern holds, but only one does (Cinderella and Pocahontas).

Ana is presenting here something that sounds reasonable, sounds like it would be right, but he has entirely failed to evidence it. And as we have seen, he frequently misrepresents what the movies actually depict in order to support this theory. He is either doing this deliberately, or is completely illiterate to visual language. 

You can just copy and paste my previous paragraph is response to this point.

Ana includes that last paragraph as a “get out of jail free” card. This is the paragraph he can swing at a detractor like me who howls at his inclusion of Hades and Shen Yu and say, “HA! You’re the one who doesn’t have reading comprehension! I was explicitly talking about how some of these villainous characters have naturally shadowed eyes!”

But the preceding paragraph puts the lie to this paper-thin excuse. He is talking about an “eyeshadow trope” that is used to convey a sense of femininity. He is not making an incredibly banal point about western media using shadows to imply villainy.

While this was fun to laugh at, I hope this silly post also shows why it was bad that Ana was such a prominent voice in progressive media criticism circles. Ana applies the same level of criticism to everything he reads and watches (including real life). It’s not just that he is really really bad at media analysis. It’s that the points he makes are not necessarily wrong, but he consistently fails to evidence his claims. He mixes obvious, evident truths with claims that *sound right* - and are potentially even interesting and worth discussing - but need actual evidence to back them up. It’s that he misrepresents the texts he is examining in order to support his claims, so that his readers cannot trust that they are being given an accurate version of the media he is criticizing. Readers who believe him without double checking are likely to be mislead into believing claims that sound reasonable on the surface but are in fact inaccurate. Readers who follow his lead will become less critical media consumers.

Good riddance. I hope he lives a very long happy life, very far away from any public media criticism circles or moderation duties.

[prettyboybarzal]

Tattoos Together (6) // Tyler Seguin

summary: the week at tyler’s childhood home is coming to a close. have you made the most of your time with your best friend? or have those pesky feelings gotten in the way again??

word count: 2.3k

author’s note: OKAY. this is the second to last part of this fic, i believe. (there may be an epilogue.) I’M SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO GODDAMN LONG... on the brightside, the wait for chapter seven will not be as long as this one was. i promise. please let me know what you think! 

July 2017

Jamie didn’t know what happened but when he woke up on the second to last day at the Seguin house, but you and Tyler were fine. After spending the entire week as a buffer between the two of you, he was pleasantly surprised and completely shocked to find you cooking breakfast together. Tyler stood at the griddle while you sat atop the counter with a dopey smile on your face. “Good morning, Jam.”

“Morning, Jamie.”

“Good morning, guys,” he spoke slowly as he settled into one of the stools at the island. His eyes shifted from one to the other, wondering what he’d missed to be waking up to this domestic scene. 

When the food was finished, you stood to grab plates for the three of you and Tyler poured the coffee. Without asking, he fixed yours up just how you like and slid it into your hand as he stepped around you to join Jamie at the counter.

You weren’t exactly planning to spend the morning by Tyler’s side. You’d woken up early and sat out on the front porch with a book while you waited for the rest of the house to wake up. Tyler was up fifteen minutes after and came barrelling out the front door with the dogs right behind him for their morning walk. You offered to go with him without a second thought.

The whole thing was a little bit cliche. As you walked, you inched closer and closer together until you were so close that your hands kept brushing. Tyler wanted to grab yours so bad, but each time he pulled away like he’d been shocked. 

When you got back to the house, he suggested chocolate pancakes for breakfast and then he sucked you into another conversation and you couldn’t escape to the guest room. Nor did you really want to.

“What’s the plan for today?” Jamie asked after breakfast had been cleaned up. 

Cassidy entered the room with her hair and make-up already done and answered his question, “I don’t know what you boys are planning to do, but we’re stealing YN.”

“Is that so?” Tyler asked, as if he was going to challenge her over your precious time.

Twenty minutes later, you were seated between his sisters and gathering all the intel on everything going on in their lives. You knew which friends were no longer friends, which classes sucked the most, which boys were occupying their time. They made you laugh, just like Tyler, and you found yourself wishing that you could spend more time with them than one day.

“We met Maisy,” Candace said softly after you all paid for your manicures. Cassidy tossed her a wide-eyed look, but she shrugged her off. You turned and raised your eyebrows at them, having expected a bit more information. “And?”

“She was nice.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her statement and the girls smiled happily at your reaction.

“That’s all you have to say about her?” you asked. They nodded softly as they followed you out to the car. “Tyler seems happy with her.”

“He’s in denial.”

You didn’t respond and the girls dropped the conversation.

About halfway back to their house, Cassidy directed you to take a left into a shopping center. She pointed across the lot to a boutique and asked you to pull up and park there. You did as she asked without a question or complaint. They led you into the shop, waving at the women behind the counter before leading you over to the dresses.

“What do you need dresses for?” you asked as your fingers felt the material of each dress on the rack. 

“Oh, we don’t need dresses,” Candace said. “You need one.”

“For what?”

“Tyler’s bringing you guys to his favorite club tonight,” Cassidy explained. “He’s been talking about taking you since you planned this trip. You need something to wear.”

They shoved you into the dressing room with a pile of dresses in every color, and then sat on the bench outside and waited for the fashion show. It was hard to find one that they both agreed on, and one that you also felt comfortable in. Finally, after trying on nearly every one, you stepped out in a satin red slip dress.

“You’re a smokeshow,” Candace stated, smacking her hand down against the space on the bench beside her. Cassidy nodded in agreement. “That’s the one.”

You completely agreed.

When you changed out of it, Cassidy’s hand popped over the door to hold onto it for you. You changed back into your street clothes and gathered the discarded dresses to place them on the rack outside the dressing room. By the time you were done, the girls were already at the register and paying for the dress you picked out.

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cassidy spoke as she handed a card over. “Ty’s got it covered.”

---

“You didn’t need to pay for this dress,” you grumbled through the bathroom door to Tyler as you got ready for the night. “I have a job.”

“So do I!”

“Do not compare our paychecks,” you warned. 

His laughter rang out, joyous and childlike, as he spoke, “I won’t.”

While you hung out with the girls, Tyler and Jamie went golfing. When they got back, they were both a little drunk. Tyler hopped in the shower first, then Jamie, and when Tyler was done he ended up on your bed waiting for you to emerge dressed and ready to go.

“What color is it?”

“Red.”

“I like red,” he remarked. You caught a glimpse of your smile in the mirror and immediately corrected it. You looked like you were a school girl giggling at something the class clown said. 

You put the finishing touches on your makeup and smoothed your dress down before stepping out of the bathroom. 

The moment he saw you, Tyler’s lost all the air inside his lungs. He shamelessly trailed his gaze along your legs to your chest to your lips, until finally reaching your eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Are you trying to kill me?”

He wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore, was he?

“Come on, I need a drink.”

Tyler kept his distance as best he could while you pregamed. His friends finally showed up, so it was easy to find distraction, but that red dress was everything he could’ve asked for and his eyes kept finding their way to you. The dress clung to your every curve and he couldn’t stop thinking about peeling it off you. He felt the way his pants tightened and excused himself to the bathroom to get his head in the right place. 

His phone chimed as soon as he was alone and Maisy’s name lit the screen up as if she’d known he was in the middle of some very bad thoughts.

Have fun tonight, my love!

He stared at the message for a moment, and then he shut his phone off completely.

The club was packed from wall-to-wall and the moment Tyler realized they’d have to weave through dozens of people, he reached out to take your hand in his. He tugged you closer once your fingers were intertwined and led the way to the velvet interior of the VIP section. When you reached the booth, you began to slip away but he tightened his grip until he was done ordering champagne for the group.

As the waitress flitted off to the bar, Tyler sat. His free hand slid across your back, curling around your side to squeeze lightly and direct you closer to him. You felt the heat in your cheeks as he did it and looked at Jamie nervously. He looked away as soon as your eyes met.

You ended up in his lap with both of his arms around your waist. One of your arms fell heavily over his shoulder, the other remained in your lap nervously picking at the hem of your dress. His hands felt heavy against your skin, but he seemed unaffected by your closeness as he carried on conversations with the people around him. One of his hands came to rest on your thigh and each time his eyes fell to its placement, he thought about digging his fingers into your flesh. 

All the while, you tried to hold conversations with his friends, but it was hard to think with his hands on your body. 

When the group finally decided to hit the dance floor, you fled to Jamie’s side in hopes of diminishing the feeling in your stomach that maybe you and Tyler weren’t quite ready to put the events of last summer behind you.

--

Tyler’s house was quiet when you finally arrived home. All the women of the house had gone to sleep hours before your arrival, but Tyler wasn’t quite ready for the night to end. As soon as you stepped through the door, he made a beeline for the kitchen. 

“I’m making food!”

You kicked your heels off at the door and followed him while Jamie ran to the bathroom. 

“Do you want mozzarella sticks?”

“Absolutely.”

You watched him throw the sticks into the oven from your spot on the countertop, the same place you sat that morning while he made breakfast. He set the timer and clicked the light on inside so he could watch them and then he backed up to lean against the counter beside you.

“Tell me something.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you something,” you said. He raised his eyebrows, turning to face you and wedge himself between your knees. He dropped his hands to your thighs, squeezing lightly to get you to continue. “We didn’t get tattoos tonight.”

“Holy shit,” he spoke. “You’re right.”

“There goes that tradition.”

“I mean, what would you even get? It’s not like we had anything in mind.”

You leaned back on the counter, palms pressed against the cool marble, and thought.

“I have a few ideas.”

“Go for it,” he urged.

“First idea is that we could get the Bruins logo on our asses,” you began. He choked on his laughter. “Now, hear me out,” you continued. He nodded. “Your teammate’s might hate it, but you owe that organization a lot for all the great things they brought you. Me, for example.”

“Okay, what other options do you have?”

“We can get the dogs tattooed somewhere on us.”

“That’s actually not a horrible idea,” he began. “But I wanna get a third, so I’m gonna have to wait on that.”

“Okay, fine,” you sighed. He watched you as you thought up another ridiculous answer, smiling softly to himself as the gears in your brain turned. “You know what we can get?”

“Please, tell me. I’m dying to know.”

“Just Brad Marchand’s signature,” you said. “We can get it right across our tits. It’ll be like reliving your Cup golden days. Just titty signatures all around.”

His laughter echoed off the walls in the kitchen and your face hurt from how hard you were grinning at him. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes as he tried to calm himself. You weren’t sure when was the last time you’d gotten this type of reaction from him, but you were mentally patting yourself on the back for having done it right then.

He stepped away from you and dropped his voice to a whisper, “God, I could kiss you right now.”

The room fell silent. 

He said that out loud. He meant to say it in his head, but he said it out loud. He didn’t mean it, well, he sort of meant it, but he knew he shouldn’t have said it. It wasn’t supposed to fall from his lips so easily. His eyes snapped up to you and he noticed that you were frozen in place, food halfway to your mouth.

“You can’t.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, turning away swiftly to clean up the kitchen counter. “I didn’t mean it like that, you know? I just--” he turned to face you again. “I want to be good for Maisy. I do, really, but my feelings for you aren’t just going to disappear. I’m trying, though, I promise.”

You wish it didn’t hurt when he said that. You were supposed to be happy that he was trying to get past this, but instead you feel your heart shatter in your chest.

“Mozzarella sticks, nice!” 

Jamie’s exclamation ended the conversation, and you shoved another mozzarella stick down your throat hoping that maybe food was the solution to all your worries.

--

The next morning, as Tyler lifted your final bag into the trunk, your phone began to ring. 

“I’m just going to take this quickly,” you told the boys as you turned back into the house for the privacy of the guest room. After accepting the call, you lifted the phone to your ear and greeted the caller on the other end. 

“Ms. YLN?”

“Speaking.”

“Hi, it’s Dave Jeffries from Red Door Publishing,” the man spoke. “I’ve been tasked with compiling a team to join me at our Dallas office and I wanted to offer you a position if you’re interested. It’ll come with a bit of a promotion, as well as a package to help you get settled in.”

“Oh, wow,” you breathed out. Your eyes lifted to the window that led out to the front yard. Tyler was leaning against the car door with the dogs at his feet. He was giggling at something Jamie said, and then he looked up and met your eyes through the window. They crinkled at the sight of you. “I’m interested in the position, but I’d appreciate the opportunity to think about my decision until Monday morning.”

“You can do that,” he answered. “For what it’s worth, I think you’d fit in great over here.”

You almost felt compelled to laugh. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on you.

“You know what?” you asked him lightheartedly. He hummed. “I do too.”

[theblekromantik]

somewhere new

Erik Stevens x Black Reader

a/n: hello lovelies, i hope you’re well and i hope that you enjoy this! i’ve been experimenting with writing lately, so any feedback would be greatly appreciated!!!

summary: you and Erik go decide to go grocery shopping, but you switch things up a little

warnings: fluff-ish with some sexual tension and implied smut

word count: 3189

A booming,

“Yo, ma!”

Accompanied by a knock at the door rattles you, causing you to drop your eyelash into the sink. Your good, very expensive eyelash that requires much focus in order to be applied to your upper lash line.

Grunting and twinging your face in disgust of the sight before you, you fish it out of the sink, blowing on it to determine if the glue is still salvageable.

“Come on, E! Five minutes!” You respond with your mouth slightly parted, a strange requirement for impeccable eyelash placement.

“Princess, we gotta hurry up before the store closes,” Erik protests, pulling up his sleeve to check his diamond-encrusted AP watch. It’s almost seven o’clock, and Erik hated shopping minutes before a store closed. It made him feel like he was being rushed to gather his items and head to the register.

You and Erik frequently ran errands together, only this time you were grocery shopping. Staying in was nice and all – really quite enjoyable – but an end had to come to the endless Netflix bingeing and takeout from your favorite spots. You both, mainly Erik, decided that it was time for a nutritious, home-cooked meal, one that wouldn’t lead you down a road of clogged arteries and hypertension. But Erik was a phenomenal chef, so you could hardly complain that your ongoing DoorDash expenditure had been interrupted.

“Damn! One second!” You holler. “One second…there.”

You step back and look into the mirror, admiring yourself. Thirty minutes of hard work and determination had really paid off! You grab your phone from the sink’s surface and proceed to snap some photos of yourself.

SHUTTER! SHUTTER! SHUTTER! SHUTTER!

Beauty must always be captured, no matter what the time restraint.

“Princess! You taking pictures in there?” The dreaded man pounds on the door, harder this time. Banging, nearly shaking the hinges out of the door until you swing it open.

And there you are, dolled up and all, from the 26-inch deep wave hair to the Adidas tracksuit, the top zipped down nearly to the level of exposing the full extent of your breasts. Just the way you liked it.

Erik can hardly contain himself as he looks further down at you, ogling how your recently-manicured toes fit perfectly between each slot of your sandals. Man, he knew you were one for dressing up, but to the grocery store? Maybe he needs to step his game up.

“Well?” You jest. “You were so loud banging on the door, you got nothing to say now?”

Catching his lip underneath his teeth, he smugly looks you over once more, trying to gather words to say, for you’ve left him speechless.

He inches closer to you, “My babygirl likes to talk back, huh?”

“Yup, she do,” Boldness courses through you, nearly shattered as you maintain eye contact with your boyfriend.

His eyes were boulders, but you were just as unyielding. This game the two of you liked to play – this perpetual exchange of power – rarely ever ended with you emerging victorious. And you knew this, but you wanted to have your fun.

Finally, though smirkingly, you divert your gaze to your phone, shuffling through your gallery to decide which photos to keep, which photos to delete, and which photos to post.

“You look beautiful, Princess,” Erik chuckles after pressing a kiss onto your lips. “Now let’s go.”

While you knew you had lost the battle in the bathroom, you couldn’t wait to enjoy the war you and Erik would have in the bedroom later.

–

“Shotgun!” Erik shouted as you were fumbling in your purse for your keys, making a sprint for the car through your apartment complex’s parking lot.

The sun was setting beneath the horizon, and it illuminated the sky a burnt orange, a hue that began to embellish the surfaces of each object it touched – buildings, vehicles, windows, trees, the reflective skin of Erik’s custom-designed Air Max 97s as he raced further away from you.

After some time, your nimble fingers reach the item of your search, which results in a chime. You pull the keys out, contemplating whether to unlock the car doors for dreaded man in order to relieve him from the heat of the California sun, or let him suffer. Though it was setting, this sun still could extract a cup of sweat from one’s body. But hey, Erik was grown, he could wait.

You strut up to the car to see your boyfriend leaning on the door, panting, condensation forming on his forehead.

You release a sound of triumph, “I was gonna drive anyway.”

The car unlocks with a chirp, and you open the door and sit down. Dumbfounded, Erik was clutching the hood of the car still, trying to catch his breath.

“You getting in, or…”

He opens the car door and slumps down into the seat.

“You didn’t have to have a nigga looking dumb, baby.”

“I don’t think you need me for that, E.”

Erik snickers, “So it’s like that?”

“Yeah, it’s like that,” you tease, pressing the car to start and reversing out of the lot.

The two of you were buckling in for a long evening, and quite frankly, you couldn’t wait to see how it would progress.

–

As you drive on the road, the city and all its structures – both new and old – vanish behind you as a multitude of cool currents of air whip into the car through the windows, blowing your hair in all sorts of directions.

The vehicle vibrates as you blast a playlist full of new releases through your aux, and Erik grips your thigh as he sings to you, gold canines flashing and all.

You gently place your foot on the break, easing the car to a stop before the upcoming red light.

Erik, nearly louder than the music, starts to grind on the seat à la Magic Mike, and you couldn’t help but to laugh at the dreaded man and his silliness, a behaviour that is a pleasant break from his usual brooding nature.

But your laughter is cut short by a car honking behind you, indicating that the light had just turned green. You roll your eyes, because it had literally just turned green, and you press on the gas, revving your vehicle to the speed limit.

You pass another number of buildings a before making a sharp left turn.

“Shit!” You mumble to yourself.

You had almost missed the turn.

“Babygirl, that wasn’t the turn. Where we going?” Erik questions, for the route you’re taking was not your usual one.

“A little change of plans. I wanted to go somewhere else this time.”

“’Somewhere else’?” Erik probes. “What’s wrong with Ralph’s?!”

Now this took Erik by surprise. He’s genuinely concerned about your decision. To him, Ralph’s is King.

“Nothing, just wanna try something different.”

Your boyfriend clutches his heart, feigning a heart attack. You snort and turn into the parking lot. Both the wind and the car’s engine settle as you drive into a spot and press the vehicle off.

“Trader Joe’s?!” Erik cries. “What they got up in there?”

You exit the car, grabbing your purse from the backseat. “Stop complaining. Let’s go.”

–

If boredom could be personified, it’s spitting image would be Erik, for he rests his forearms on the bar of the shopping cart, eyes drooping as he observes the eccentric packaging of Trader Joe’s products.

Picking up a container of salsa he says, “Why all this shit organic?”

But you just suck your teeth and let him sulk behind the cart, ignoring him and all his grumbling.

“And this,” His gaze sets upon another display, “Who the fuck needs all these types of dried fruit? Probably taste like tumbleweed anyway.”

“Yo, stop moaning and groaning over there,” You shoot back at him, grabbing two packages of dried mangoes and placing them into the cart.

But Erik persists, dragging his feet across the smooth, concrete floor.

Minding the grocery list you and Erik had created earlier on your phone, you head deeper into the produce section, searching for some leafy greens and other ingredients that would contribute toward Erik’s signature salad. He walks off with the cart, gathering some tomatoes and bell peppers before making his way into another section of the store.

You, on the other hand, stand in front of the illuminated display with every type of green you could think of: arugula, kale, spinach, and lettuce, just to name a few. Reaching in, you squish some of the bags in order to determine their freshness. And you grab some kale and return to your shopping partner, who was waiting patiently for you, his previous protesting done with.

Looking down at the list on your phone, there wasn’t that much left for you all to grab, just some seasonings that were essential for the completion of any dish. There’re so many to choose from, and quite frankly, you’d just grab them all if you weren’t on a budget. So, you place a couple in the cart. And when you look up again, there Erik is, a pouty look on his face.

“Birthday cake popcorn?” Erik suggests, holding up the multicoloured item.

“Put it in the cart,” You giggle, maneuvering to a checkout line with the least amount of people.

The line becomes shorter and shorter, with customers paying and leaving with their large brown bags. And before you know it, the cashier shouts, “Next!” and moves to take your cart.

“Find everything okay?” The cashier asks, briefly glancing up at the two of you before moving to scan the items in your cart.

“Yes, thank you,” you respond, blankly staring as more items appeared on the customer screen and the worker transferred your groceries into the bags adjacent to the register.

Erik, standing beside you, wraps his right pinky finger against your left one, linking the two of you before you adjust to hold his entire hand. He grips your waist and pulls you in to kiss your lips and lingers there for a short while, eyes boring into yours while also relishing the traces of your chocolate-flavoured lip gloss that had found its way to onto his tongue.

You’re flustered, of course, but not because he hadn’t kissed you this intensely before, but because you were reminded that you were still at the grocery store, for the cashier cleared their throat awkwardly, repeating the total cost you had missed in your fleeting moment of passion.

Scratching your neck, hoping to relieve the embarrassment that that crept up your spine, you ask, “I’m sorry, how much is it?”

To which the cashier responds, “That’s $43.96.”

“I got it, bae,” Erik interjects, pulling out his wallet and handing a crisp yet folded fifty-dollar bill to the worker.

And while the cashier hands Erik the change, you grab the red cart and head toward the exit but not before thanking them. A few steps behind, Erik acknowledges another cashier – the only Black cashier – with a head nod and a knowing smile, to which the cashier nods, shrugs, and returns the grin: the shared feeling of being the only Black person in the room. The automatic doors open, reintroducing the cool evening air upon your face and hair, and the rubber wheels of the cart greet the smooth pavement.

When you reach the cart return, Erik grabs all of the bags while you fit the cart among the lines of carts already present. The two of you begin to walk to your parked vehicle but instead accidentally stumble upon on one with a similar make and model to your own but was not yours.

“I swore I parked right here,” you huff, standing on the balls of your feet, searching the sea of identical cars in the well-lit parking lot. And the fact that there were so many other last-minute shoppers did not help your plight either.

“Lemme see the keys,” Erik says, intrigue in his voice. “I wanna see something.”

You hand him the keys to the car, and he places them under his chin, pressing the unlock button repeatedly.

“That doesn’t actually work, does it?” You quiz, doubt heavy on your words.

“We have to see.”

Supposedly, this little trick should increase the bandwidth of the key’s signal, using one’s head as a sort of antenna. But after a couple clicks, you hear nothing besides traffic on the neighbouring streets.

Pointless, you think, just wanting to hurry up and head home.

But then, you hear a series of chirps in the distance and Erik yipping about the fact.

“Over there,” Erik says, nodding his head toward the source of the noise.

He picks up the bags, and you both head to the vehicle.

–

Shutting the door to your car, you release a sigh. Finally, the bags are all placed on the floor of your car, and you can finally head home.

With your foot on the break, you reach to push the car to start but then Erik yelps, “Wait! I wanna try those mango joints.”

“Oh, now you wanna try them,” You jest, “Because if I can remember, you were just–”

“–Man,” Erik interrupts, reaching to the backseat and rummaging through the bags. “Found it.”

He surveys the clear package titled “Soft & Juicy Mango” with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips curled, a slight repugnance that he couldn’t even help hide. But ripping the bag open, his expression softens as the aroma fills his nostrils, the sweet, tropical scent soothing him.

You watch, rolling your eyes, as Erik cautiously lowers his fingers into the package. One would think that the former Navy Seal wouldn’t be so dramatic over something like trying a new food, but Erik never ceases to amaze you.

Mango slice in hand, Erik purses his lips as he brings it to his mouth, slowly. Tortuously. And chews, his head cocked to the side.

“Wait,” he says as he swallows the last bit. “These bitches smack!”

You release a sound of disbelief, start the vehicle, and pull into the street, heading home. Of course the mangoes were delicious.

–

The sound of the car door closing can be heard as you and Erik finish grabbing all the groceries and head to the entrance of your apartment building. Your boyfriend opens the door for you, his veiny forearm braced on it and towering above you as you enter.

“Damn, ma! You getting thick!” He hollers as he watches the sway of your hips in your fitted bottoms.

You feel your cheeks warm up as you push some hair behind your air. You had been getting thick.

The lobby as you pass through is empty except for the security guard looking down at a glow coming from their lap and a couple of young people with white wires cascading down from their ears, bopping their heads to music that you can hear but not quite make out specific lyrics.

You and Erik find your way inside the elevator, the flickering fluorescents easing you back home, a stark difference from the glaringly bright ones at Trader Joe’s. Erik presses the round “4”, and the aluminum doors begin to close before you, you staring ahead while Erik sneaks a glance at you, smirking before redirecting his gaze toward the sliding metal.

Watching the line of numbers flash as the lift ascends from the ground floor, you turn to Erik, kissing him softly on the lips, closing your eyes and feeling a tingling sensation coursing into him through you. An electrical current that ceases to meet its end, ravishing you both entirely.

And with a ding, the elevator doors open and there you and Erik are, standing chest to chest in the moment, biting your lips like a couple of anxious teenagers on a first date. You pull away from him, keys in hand, heading for the apartment while Erik watches you.

God, how did he get so lucky? You were a treasure to him, and not only because you were so extraordinary but the little things: how you treated him so tenderly and with love yet wouldn’t hesitate to call him out when he was acting like a fool, and how you were so receptive to him as he was to you. These were all things that he scarcely experienced, if he ever experienced them at all. You helped him learn how to love and to receive love, which is an astonishing feat that many cannot confess that they’ve accomplished for themselves. And as you look back at him and smile while you unlock the door, he feels a bit weak in the knees, your electricity overwhelming him once more. You’ve got him hooked, and he loves it. He’s entirely entranced by you, and he doesn’t mind.

You open the door and are welcomed by your apartment, which is completely shrouded in darkness, save for the streetlights, the headlights of passing cars, and the last sliver of the orange evening sky before it is overcome by those distant stars in the night sky.

“Whew,” you exhale, flipping on the light switch and opening the door wider.

Erik sets the bags down on the countertops and approaches you.

“What are you–” you begin, but Erik is sliding his arms around your midsection and turning you to him. He presses his forehead against yours, twirling the ends of your hair and breathes you in and attaches his lips to yours, gently, truly wanting to savour this moment and you in this moment.

He pulls away, slowly, and confesses for the first time aloud, “I love you,” in a voice no louder than a whisper in a public library, to which you respond, “I love you, too.”

And the two of you remain like this for a few moments, staring into each other’s eyes, not even letting the ever-busy late-night traffic rattle you.

“So,” he starts, “About earlier in the bathroom…”

“Yeah, what about it?” You respond, seduction laced in your words.

“I’m thinking we need to address that.”

“Oh, do you?”

“Yup,” Erik answers, popping the “p”.

“And what about the groceries?”

“They’ll be a’ight.”

“Hm,” You sound, lacing your hand with his and walking the both of you to your shared bedroom.

Erik walks towards you, making you both fall on the bed. And the dreaded man begins pecking at your neck, travelling up to the bone of your jaw and landing once again on your plump lips. He swipes his finger down them, and repeats, “I love you.”

You stand up to close the door, while Erik sits up, waiting on you to return to him. You cradle his head in your hands while you kiss him, deeper, all that former tenderness left at the door. And stripping him of his shirt, his impatient fingers also dance to the zipper of your top, lowering it. He slides the jacket over your shoulders as you kneel on the bed to straddle him. But before you could grind down on his crotch, Erik grips your hips and flips you onto your back, the sudden movement bouncing your body on the bed after it meets the comforter.

“Not so fast, babygirl.”

[thestraggletag]

Three Appointments and a Wedding

AN: Hi, @magicalgiven it is I, your Secret Santa! If I’m not mistaken we are both Argentinians in which case commiserate with me over the fucking hot weather we’ve been having. Because it fucking sucks. It was a pleasure to be your Santa, and I’m sorry this fic didn’t get smutty. I tried to add as much spice at the end as I could. It was challenging but fun because the accidental engagement prompt has been done a lot in the fandom so it was nice to try and put my spin on things. I hope you like it!

Prompt: Accidental engagement and consequences.

Summary: Mr Gold would do anything to help his only son plan his wedding, even if it is getting mistaked for the groom over and over as his crush gets mistaken for the bride. Over and over.

Rating: PG-13

He reminded himself that Bae had been clear about his distaste for a big wedding, and Emma as well. As far as they both were concerned they were better off with a simple civil ceremony and a honeymoon in Florida. But Emma’s parents insisted that their only child, their little princess, marry in style, so something grander was decided upon. He had to admit he hadn’t put up much of a fight. He did not have a lot in common with the Nolans- no matter how much David insisted on treating him like best mates whenever they met- but he did agree with them on the wedding. Bae was his only son and he wished to make a fuss about his wedding as well.

So he couldn’t really say no when Bae called to ask him to please take his place at a catering appointment in Portland. He had been summoned to a surprised meeting with a client that was a rather big to-do at his job. He did something related to web design that he couldn’t for the life of him understand, but it allowed him to work from home most of the time and stay in Storybrooke, so he was glad to be of assistance if he needed it.

He arrived at the catering business with a bit of time to spare, introducing himself and letting the person checking the appointment know he was waiting for someone. Not Miss Swan, because apparently she also had urgent business that could not be delayed- she did work in law enforcement, so there was a small chance she wasn’t lying to get out of “boring wedding stuff” as she kept calling it right in front of her mother and likely to annoy her. He had been told she would send Miss Lucas as a replacement, since she knew her way around a menu. He did not look forward to it, though perhaps he could amuse himself with trying to figure out how to raise the subject of the diner’s rent being due next week over talk of canapes. 

“Mr Gold, you got here before me!”

He turned around, a part of him recognising instantly that charming Australian lilt. He looked slightly down to find Miss Belle French, the town’s librarian as of three years. She was dressed, as always, rather charmingly, and looked less out of place in the city than in their small town. 

“I hope you haven’t been waiting long. The original plan was for Ruby to fill in for Emma, but Granny’s arthritis started acting up so she had to stay and help at the diner. Oh, please don’t tell Granny I told you that or she’ll never forgive me.”

He recalled she was an old friend of Miss Swan’s, from before she came back to Storybrooke, back when she was living in New York as a bit of a rebellion against her parents, doing bounty hunting work of all things. They had been roommates while Miss French went to NYU for her master’s in Library Science and worked at an antique bookstore. He knew only because he knew the bookstore and thought it smart to hold onto that piece of information. Book restoration and re-binding wasn’t his specialty, so it was nice to know of someone he could consult with if the need ever arose.

“Your secret’s safe with me, Miss French. I will even abstain of using the information against Granny the next time she tries to overcharge me for coffee. I hope you understand what a sacrifice that is.”

She laughed and he tried to pretend he didn’t feel overly smug about it, turning instead to open the door for her.

“Oh, Mr Gold, I see your fianceé is here! Lovely to meet the future Mrs Gold.”

He fumbled, his brain too caught up in what had just been said to register the small step on his way. He righted himself just as Miss French stammered a surprised denial.

“Oh, right, I apologise for assuming you would change your name after marriage, Miss Swan. Please, follow me.”

The man, a strongly-accented Frenchman, if his ears did not deceive him, swept past them and deeper into the shop, forcing them both to follow. The back was a rather nice dining area, small but with lots of windows to let in natural light. It was right next to the kitchen, but it still felt private and quiet. They were ushered into a table already prepared for them and served a sample of entrées along with a card detailing the ingredients of each one.

“Well, I suppose it’s an obvious mistake to make, and it would be unkind to correct him, he’d be mortified. I hope you don’t mind playing the would-be groom for a day, Mr Gold. At least we get some nice food out of it.”

“It’ll make a nice change from Granny’s overpriced lasagna.”

She slapped him gently on the arm, trying to conceal her smile, and he was surprised at how nice the gesture felt. Not many people touched him, and less with that sort of uncomplicated ease. He was glad that Miss French felt comfortable around him.

“So, what type of food does Miss Swan enjoy?”

“You should really begin calling her Emma, you know. And me Belle, none of that Miss French nonsense. This is not some nineteenth century pretend engagement, you know. I hope we can consider ourselves a modern pretend couple.” Miss French- Belle- smiled at him over the rim of her water glass before taking a sip. “As for Emma, she likes bar food. If it was up to her we’d serve peanuts and fries for entrées and burgers as the main course. I understand her parents talked her out of it, so perhaps nothing very fancy, but tasteful at the same time.”

He had given up on the day that morning, thinking it would be spent trying to make awkward conversation with a confrontational Miss Lucas, glaring daggers at him from across a rather small table because he dared charge rent for the property her grandmother rented from him. Instead he found himself discussing food and wine with someone he was infinitely more fond of and could not even muster enough grumpiness later in the evening to snark at Bae when he called later at night to thank him for subbing for him.

“It’ll be the last time, pops, I swear.”

.

The week after the catering appointment Bae called him in a panic to beg him to go for him to the florist appointment, also in Portland. He swallowed a few choice words learned in his youth in Glasgow, closed his shop and drove to the address Bae texted him. He was somewhat less surprised than before to find Miss French there, sitting on a bench outside the shop and reading a book. Something niggled at the back of his head but when he greeted her and they got to explain their presence he realised it made a bit more sense. Miss Swan’s job was a bit emergency-heavy and Miss French was the daughter of a florist, so it made sense to send her as a replacement.

She knew her stuff, as he could tell almost as soon as they set foot into the shop, to the delight of the old, red-haired florist that handled their appointment. The librarian engaged her in a rather interesting discussion on the meaning of flowers and the importance of harmonious scents, something he had never considered before. They spent a rather lovely hour touring the greenhouse and browsing through the catalogues, with Miss French- “Honestly, Arran, it’s Belle, you agreed!”- making a game out of it, picking something and having him guess whether it was a choice for Miss Swan’s wedding or a reflection of personal taste. He learned from it that Belle liked blue as much as her outfits had already implied and that she loved hydrangeas, thought them elegant but soft.

“Too soft for Emma. She likes bold colours and is not fond of traditional flowers, so I was thinking perhaps something with bougainvilleas? They have such lovely deep pink colour, almost red. What do you think?”

It was a bit intoxicating, the smell of the flowers, the heat of the shop and Belle French talking about flowers with a passion that stirred something in him that had nothing to do with centerpieces or boutonnieres. It wasn’t until they were out of it, inhaling the crisp evening Portland air, that he realised the florist had mistaken them for the engaged couple as well, and neither of them had made any effort to correct her. Well, that would’ve been rude, he reasoned. No need to put the old woman in the spot.

.

The morning of the cake-tasting appointment he had woken up with the knowledge that he was likely to get a “surprise” call from Bae begging him to “fill in” for him at the cake shop, and he could not even bring himself to feel angry about it. The wedding was, after all, a rather rushed affair, seeing as to how it was not what either the bride or groom had planned for, so allowances had to be made for the couple. That or they both were trying to punish their parents for pushing on them a grander event than the one they had wanted in the first place.

On his way out of town he passed by the library, insisting he would drive Miss French who was, surprisingly, filling in for Miss Swan again. She didn’t seem to mind yet another disruption into her schedule.

“I love Storybrooke, but I don’t mind admitting that it’s nice to go out to a big city every now and then.”

The bakery that would make the cake- one of the few that would accommodate the short notice of the order placement- was located in Bangor, which seemed to merge big-city vibes with small-town charm. The bakery itself was lovely, with a white and beige storefront and a myriad of colourful treats on display. It smelled strongly of vanilla and chocolate inside, and there was a dreamy, romantic sort of quality to the decoration. They were ushered into a warm, cosy room where they spent the next hour and a half tasting different cakes, one better than the next.

“Emma is a bit chocolate obsessed, so I’m leaning towards the chocolate champagne one. It was delicious.”

He tried not to replay in his mind the way she had moaned at the first taste of that one, eyes closing in absolute bliss.

“I still can’t believe that little urchin had me fill in for him again, so I’m not even considering his tastes. My vote is for the strawberry shortcake.”

Belle frowned, idly liking some frosting from her fork. His left hand tightened around the napkin on his lap.

“Isn’t Bae allergic to strawberries?”

“Exactly.”

The librarian laughed, which he was rather surprised by. Very few shared his rather dark sense of humour, most found the content and his delivery of it rather off-putting. He tried not to preen at the idea. 

“Might want to hold on in killing him until after the wedding. After all, we have invested quite a few hours into the preparation already. Feels more like our wedding, in a way.”

He choked on a rather lovely piece of red velvet cheesecake, fumbling for his glass of water to try and wash it down. He realised the danger he was in, all of a sudden, perhaps too late. His crush had been safe when he had not had much of a chance to interact with the librarian and get to know her. But spending entire days with her had changed things, giving his feelings depth that he did not entirely appreciate. His instinct of self-preservation was urging him to do something. Say something mean or cutting, or close himself off. Perhaps invent some business emergency and leave, letting Belle figure out on her own how to get back to town. If she was cross with him, if she hated him, if she decided to keep his distance, he would be safe.

But, surprisingly, he found that he was rather tired of feeling safe, and of pushing people away.

.

“You know, we didn’t do half-bad in the end, all things considered.”

He turned around, tearing his eyes away from his son and his new wife trying to waltz. He was sure someone was filming it, anyway, and he’d get to tease Bae about it later. Belle looked absolutely stunning in a Halston dress, an architectural number in navy blue with a champagne-coloured lining that peeped from the folds of the skirts and a bit of a train in the back, the hem landing above the knee at the front and below it at the back. It was a far cry from what most women were wearing, in particular the friends of the mother of the bride, but it was exactly what he had expected from her: bold, flirty, and the slightest bit of out place in a small town, without really seeming to realise. Her lips were a lovely deep, dark red and smiling wide. At him, of all people.

“Yes. The flowers do look splendid, Miss French. You have quite an eye for it.”

She hooked her arm through his, looking admonishingly up at him.

“It’s Belle. Unless you’ve decided I cannot call you Arran anymore.”

If he were stronger, he would politely insist on calling her Miss French, thus gently reestablishing their more formal dynamic. It would be safer, certainly. But he found himself unable to muster the energy for it. It was a happy day, and he was ecstatic as the father of the groom should be. Seemed like the occasion to do what he wanted and not necessarily what he thought was best. Indulge a bit.

“Belle, then. I rather like how you pronounce my name, seems a shame to make you stop.”

Her eyes widened, and so did her smile. He tried to remember how many glasses of champagne he had drunk, but could not recall. He had indulged there too, but that was only because he had been sitting next to David Nolan for dinner and he had kept trying to talk to him about sports. He had made the mistake of trying to discuss the UEFA Super Cup, but that had only led to ten minutes of David Nolan referring to football as soccer and displaying no understanding of the rules of the game.

“So, how’s the proud father? Was it all you hoped it would be?”

He looked around. The venue was lovely, a manor outside Storybrooke that was used exclusively for events like weddings and such, with extensive gardens and lovely, broad balconies. The Nolans had secured the place, seemed they knew the owner and had been able to pull some strings. It was decorated a bit like an enchanted forest, in shades of silver, gold and bold touches of bright pink and dark blue.

“Well, Bae remembered his lines and didn’t step on Miss Swan’s train at any point so the wedding has exceeded my wildest expectations.”

He glanced again towards his son, dancing something a bit more lively with Emma and looking infinitely more at ease doing so. They truly suited each other, and he was glad of that. Glad that Bae would know, hopefully, nothing but love in his family he meant to build for himself.

“It’s a lovely song. Would you care to dance?”

A tricky question, since the answer was both a resounding no and a desperate yes, but he merely pointed towards his cane as a way out. It seemed he was not the only one emboldened by drink, however, if Belle’s flashing eyes and red cheeks were anything to go by.

“Oh, come on, just some gentle swaying. We could go outside, if you don’t wish others to see. It’s a bit stuffy in here anyway.”

There was no way for him to deny her, nor did he wish to anymore. He let her lead him out, into one of the terrace-like balconies attached to the ballroom, and wrapped her arms around his neck, prompting his own to wrap around her waist. They soon fell into a slow, easy rhythm, lazy and yet strangely exhilarating. He felt loose and tightly-wound at the same time, and could not decide whether he liked the feeling or not.

“It really is a lovely wedding, by the way.”

“Yes, I think we did rather well, all things considered. Certainly more than what Bae deserved, taking into account how little he worked for it.”

She tugged on his hair, he assumed as a way to chastise him. It had rather the opposite result, sending a jolt of fizzy pleasure up and down his spine.

“You rather enjoyed it, admit it. And I did too. In a way it’s sad that the wedding has happened and our outings are at an end.”

She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, teeth worrying her lower lip the slightest bit. He got the feeling that there was something he was not seeing or sensing, some signal he was not quite deciphering. But it was getting rather difficult to think, with the champagne in his veins, and the feel of Belle in his arms and the way she smelt like orange blossom. 

“You look lovely, by the way.” He realised he hadn’t told her, and it seemed like a major oversight. “Stunning, really. Gorgeous. Too good to be wasting your time out on the balcony with me.”

What the fuck was wrong with him? When had he lost complete control of his bleeding mouth?

“Don’t say that. I like spending time with you. A lot.” She bit her lip again and he wondered if his blood pressure could take it. “Actually, I was hoping we could spend more time together, if you wished it.”

There was no mistaking the flirty turn of her lips, or the coyness dancing in her eyes, even to an expert in self-denial such as him. He tried to form words to reply to her, something along the lines of “Yes, please” or “Is it tomorrow night too soon?” but his vocal cords were suddenly useless, and in a sudden panic that she would interpret his stupid silence for a rejection of her advances he leaned down, pressing his lips against hers. He felt her stiffen in his arms for a second, saw her eyes widen in surprise, but the next moment she was pressing back against him, tipping her head back to better capture his mouth with her own. She took absolute control with a quiet, fierce determination that he found incredibly erotic. He was happy to reciprocate, to tighten his arm around her waist and open his mouth to her, his left hand tightening around the handle of his cane with something that felt like petulant frustration at not being able to simply drop the damned thing hold her properly, perhaps delve a hand into her hair, feel if it was as soft as it always looked. 

She seemed to read his mind, for she maneuvered them clumsily towards the rather tall balustrade. He eagerly leaned against it before dropping his cane in the nick of time to catch the librarian’s leg, which sought to wrap itself around his waist. Her obvious, undisguised want was disarming, making him forget himself in a way he had never allowed himself to-

“Papa, what the fuck?”

“Belle!”

Both him and Belle startled, with her regretfully taking a few steps away from him, leaving him to notice the chill in the air. When he glanced at the entrance of the balcony he saw his son and Miss Swan, looking radiant in her Vera Wang dress and also, bizarrely, quite smug.

“Hey, Bae, didn’t see you there.”

His accent barely made the words intelligible, but there was no helping that. He always lost control of his brogue when he was nervous.

“Clearly!” Bae sounded shrill, more child than man. Reminded him of the infamous temper-tantrums the lad had thrown once upon a time. “How could you? At my own wedding?!”

Fuck, he was right. He had been caught fucking making-out and almost doing God-knew-what just a few bloody steps away from his son’s wedding reception. What was the matter with him?

“I mean, why couldn’t you wait? I had almost won the bet!”

What?

“You only had to last until after the wedding! I was so close, pops! And you were doing so well!”

“Yes, yes, it’s all very sad. Now remember, Bae, you promised at least two dances with Regina’s sister. At least she’s unlikely to hit on you at your own wedding, so there’s that.”

Emma smiled up at her new husband, kissed his cheek, turned him around and directed him back towards the ballroom with a not-so-gentle smack in the ass. She smiled, gave Belle a thumbs up and an “atta girl” and walked out of the balcony, closing the French doors behind her.

“What the fuck was that?”

[sylvain-writes]

Guarded Hearts and Safe Houses (Leonardo x Reader) Chapter 5/9

Rated: T

Gender Neutral Reader, canon typical violence/injury, light angst, strangers to lovers, supportive family

for @melodiousmelodrama

As expected, your parents welcome the turtles into their apartment, offering them a safe space for as long as necessary. Their only concern is for the wellbeing of their new friends.

“Just for the day,” Leo tells your family, and his brothers look up, none protesting but clearly confused. “I have a place,” Leo explains. “It’s not set up or anything. We have a lot of work to do. Donnie, you’ll need help bringing stuff your stuff up from the sewers and we’ll have to abandon the van for a while-”

“Whaddaya mean, ya have a place?” Raphael sits forward, leaning onto his knees where he sits at Gram’s feet helping her roll cakes of yarn.

“An abandoned subway station. It’s not perfect, but it’s ours.”

Donatello rubs his chin. “Subway?”

“Are there trains?” Mikey’s open expression is full of wonder and hope.

“Yeah. There’s a car for each of us. No more bunk sharing or falling all over each other, fighting for space. But, the place needs some work.”

"Oh." Mikey's enthusiasm wavers as he spares half a glance toward Raphael, but he smiles up at Leo. "That's cool, bro!"

"Yeah, Leo." Donatello adds from the kitchen. "Sounds  great."

Leo tries not to take their drop in enthusiasm personally. But after all the work he’s putting in - searching for a place, fixing it up - even this slight rejection hurts. "Look, I wish we could get an apartment and play house with all this fancy stuff too, alright? But don't get used to it. This isn't our life. It's never going to be. The subway's gonna be good for us. You'll see."

" 'Course it is, man. You always know what's best." Raphael sounds sincere, but Leo turns in a huff as if his brothers had turned up their snouts at his announcement.

"I'll show you to a room where you can get some rest," you say gently. The whirlwind of the past 36 hours must have him exhausted. You could use some sleep as well.

Leo thanks you for access to the shower and for the bed, your bed, your room. And he turns himself in.

You call out of work and get a few hours of sleep before restlessness kicks in. You're not used to sleeping during the day. When you wake up, the guys are in various states of unrest as well.

Leo still hasn't come out.

Donnie announces, "He's asleep," and his brothers don't question it. But you raise an eyebrow at his quick assessment. "I compared his breathing against known patterns. It helps to know the difference between Leo asleep, Leo meditating, and Leo pretending to do either."

"Didn't take him for one to play pretend."

“He keeps his secrets," Raphael says, his tone a bit bitter. There's a history there, you think. "But he's always got his reasons. Thinks he knows what's best for us." Raphael shrugs, as if coming to a conclusion he's come to before. "He usually does."

No one is surprised when Leo sleeps through the day. And no one blames him. But when the pizza delivery fills the apartment with the smell of hot tomato sauce and melted cheese, they all expect him to show at the table. He doesn't, and even Mikey can't make his "More for me, then" sound free of his worry.

"Is he gonna be alright? If we leave him?" You want to go to him. You barely know Leo, but he's let you see him vulnerable before. You think maybe his vulnerability is one of the things his brothers know he hides. Maybe he doesn't realize they see. Anyway, you don't want to force him.

"Sensei usually knows what to do."

"Splinter-” you nod along “-have you heard from him? Is he coming?"

Donatello shakes his head, but doesn't seem concerned. "His last transmission noted his safety. He'll contact us again soon."

You pick olives off your pizza and line them up as you think aloud. "Until then, you'll help Leo with the station?"

Raphael piles three slices onto his plate, before lifting a fourth from the box straight to his mouth. "We go where Leo goes. He found us a spider-infested death trap to live in… we'll go."

An olive slips off the rim of your plate. "How did you know it was spider-infested?"

"Ya came in before covered in cobwebs and shit. But whatever. Sewer wasn't no palace either." There’s no embarrassment or judgment in Raph’s tone. Leo should be here, hearing his brothers support his decision.

"He seems really excited about it. I mean… hopeful, y'know?"

"Yeah." Donatello passes you his slices of mushrooms and you pass them on to Mikey who gobbles them up with gusto. "We never said we didn't like the idea. It's just not home, that's all."

You can sympathize. "We moved around a lot when I was younger. Always trying to find a better placement for mom. A safer community for me to grow up in. It wasnt the house that made it home. It was having my family around."

"Yeah, yeah,” Raph grumbles. “Real Hallmark life changing stuff. But he's not worried about keeping us together, remember? We each get a car to ourselves. He's splittin us up."

Mikey goes quiet, stops eating, drops his hands into his lap.

You don’t know what to do, what to say, to make this better. You think, if they would just talk to Leo about this, it could all be straightened out. But the rest of the meal is silent. It seems the brothers don’t even feel up to talking to each other.

When Leo emerges from the room, he announces it's time to go. "We have to patrol. They tried to hit us where it hurts. But we're resilient. And we’re not going to let the Krang take our city.”

You narrow your eyes at Leo and wonder if he’s ignoring the strain on his brothers - or if he just can’t see it. You wonder if he can read the loss in their eyes, if he can understand that ordering them to brush themselves off and push through another night of patrol might not be in their best interest right now.

Leo stands taller. “I said, we’re moving out. Let’s go.”

Donatello is the first to stand from the table. He grabs his pack from behind the couch and waits by the window while Leo opens it and climbs into the night. Raphael knocks Mikey’s shoulder and jerks his head toward their brothers as if to say, “We better head out too.”

“I’m sorry you couldn’t stay longer.” You look at their plates of half eaten food and wonder why Leo hadn’t at least let them finish.

“Forget about it,” Raph says with half a frown. “We knew it wouldn’t last.”

“Yeah, right,” Mikey agrees, heading for the fire escape. “We don’t belong in some fancy place like this. But I really like how the carpets match the drapes.”

The observation awards him a smack on the arm.

“What? What’d I say?”

“Kids,” Raphael chuckles, embarrassed for everyone in the room. “He doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about. Excuse us.” He ushers Mikey out and refuses to explain innuendo to his little brother. “Thanks for all the, uh… thanks.”

Mikey looks back at your family before he leaves. “I really do like the-” his compliment becomes a shout of surprise as Raphael tears him away from the window and to the roof.

Over the next few nights, you get rather used to seeing turtles on the roof. The Krang’s forces are growing in number, but as they continue to remain in hiding, everything feels like speculation. And so, the turtles rotate watch on your building. It makes stargazing more interesting. Especially on nights when Donatello is around. Raphael is kind of a mess. Always on high alert and rarely interested in standing still long enough to enjoy something as simple and amazing as the moon and stars. But Donatello is full of knowledge about the cosmos.

Some nights you and Donnie discuss the possibility of life on other planets. It seems like Donnie enjoys the distraction, until you realize he’s talking about the likelihood of alien attacks.

Mikey has a special interest in astrology, which surprises and delights you to no end. He loves telling you his brothers’ horoscopes and making connections within their lives to prove how absolutely on point astrology is.

Finally, you ask, “How do you know when your birthdays are? I mean, weren’t you all exposed to the mutagen at the same time?”

Mikey explains, “It’s all in the stars. I didn’t choose our birthdays. Our birthdays chose us.” And points to the astrological chart in his lap as if it held the answers to the universe, which, if he were to argue the point, it did.

You just nodded, letting him have his way.

Leo doesn’t patrol your roof. Not once. Not, like, ever. And you’ve looked for him. You’ve asked about him. But the most you’ve ever gotten is a weird sigh from Raphael and some grumbling about Leo cleaning up his own messes.

After two weeks, you drop the subject of Leo completely. If he doesn’t want to see you, then you definitely don’t want to see him.

“How is the new place coming along?”

Mikey rocks from side to side on the edge of the building where the two of you have been tearing up bits of dying leaves and let them float on the wind. “I got my own room.”

Through the corner of your eye, you catch Mikey worrying his bottom lip and decide to wait for him to say more before responding.

“I’m right between Donnie and Raph. It’s pretty cool. I got a bed. And, uh, my music and stuff is all set up. But Raph took half the comic books. Donnie said I can borrow the textbooks anytime I want but…”

“What was your set up like before?”

“Huh?”

“At the Lair. Did you each have your own room?”

“Oh. No. Well, Leo did. He and Donnie had their own. Raphie and I shared,” Mikey’s voice got quieter as he spoke.

“What was it like, rooming with Raph?”

“It sucked. He smells bad after workouts and his cologne smells worse. And he says I snore. And he always moved my stuff and used my headphones without asking.”

“And you miss him.”

“And I miss- Hey…”

“It’s OK to miss him.” You pass Mikey a new leaf to tear. “I bet he misses you, too.”

“I bet he misses my headphones. For sure. He’s always breaking his.”

“He ever break your stuff?”

“Nah. Never. I wasn’t scared he was gonna break ‘em. I just didn’t want them smelling like Fierce by Abercrombie & Fitch.”

You laugh at that and Mikey loosens up a bit. “You share a wall with Raph, right?”

Mikey shrugs. “Kinda. Like a window.”

You lean back on your hands for support and look up at the sky with a smile. “I have an idea.”

[enpointe10]

Gold Rush

AN: So, this is my first ever fanfic. I got sucked into the emotional rabbit hole that is evermore, and this happened. Sorry in advance for the angst!! Really though, this is the first fanfiction I have ever, so please be nice. Enjoy!

THE CABIN

The cabin felt like home. Hidden within Oakwald Forest, nestled underneath layers of snow, with its creaking wooden floors and massive fireplace, it was home. So was the owner of the arm Aelin wiggled under, feeling its heavy weight come to rest on her.

“Hey,” a gruff voice said quietly. Rowan. Aelin closed her eyes as she held him, breathing in his pine and snow scent. He pressed a kiss to her hair. 

“Good morning,” she whispered back at him, her own voice groggy with sleep. She felt more than saw him smile into her hair before he began to pull away from her. With a groan, she tightened her arms around his waist, keeping him in place.

A soft laugh. “I’m just getting some coffee, love.” He gently unwrapped her arms as he eased out of the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

“But you’re so warm,” Aelin murmured into his pillow.

“What was that, Fireheart?” 

Even with her eyes closed, she knew the smirk that would be on his beautiful face. With that damned smirk in mind, she murmured something decidedly unladylike into the pillow as he huffed out another laugh and left the room, the wooden floors echoing his steps until he suddenly froze.

“How did that get there?”

At that, Aelin lifted her head from the pillow, blinking at the light flowing in from frost-covered windows. She saw Rowan standing in front of the door. “What?” she asked.

He slowly turned around, eyes full of mischief as he nodded towards the Eagles t-shirt draped across the top of the door. Her Eagles t-shirt, which she had been wearing the night before. Aelin refused to let her embarrassment show, hating the red flush of her cheeks. Well, unless it was because of a different reason. Like last night.

She raised a brow, giving Rowan a smirk of her own. “Someone got a little excited last night, and ripped my clothes off of me. I guess that one ended up there.” 

“Ah,” he said, a purely masculine smile gracing his face and lighting up his green eyes. 

Aelin paused. “If you actually ripped it, I’ll kill you. That’s my favorite shirt.”

He lifted it off the door, inspecting it for a moment before tossing it on the bed. “Lucky for me, it seems fine.” He stared at the door for a second more, giving it a shake of his head before striding through it. 

A handful of minutes later, Aelin waltzed through the same door. When Rowan caught sight of her, he froze, a cup of coffee in each hand and his jaw on the floor.

Knowing the reason for his shock, Aelin leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You got very, very lucky that this shirt is fine.” And it was. Coincidentally, it was also the only thing she was currently wearing. She was absolutely freezing, but the look on Rowan’s face was worth the chill. His green eyes soaked in the sight of her before they snapped up to meet hers. Pupils blown wide, there was a feral gleam there that caused her stomach to tighten.

Straightening up, Rowan placed both cups of coffee on the table beside him before turning back around to face her. “Well, you’re right about one thing,” he said as he prowled towards her. 

Aelin tilted her head up to meet his gaze, fighting the smile that tugged on her lips. She was grateful that she had her arms crossed over her chest, lest she fall victim to the growing temptation to reach out and kiss him stupid. Which turned out to be unnecessary as he gripped her hips and pulled her towards him, pressing his lips to hers, his kiss nearly as feral as his eyes.

When they finally pulled apart to breath, she asked, “What was it that I was right about this time, buzzard?”

His green eyes gaze caught hers, swollen lips curling up into a smile that made her heart sing to know that she was the reason for it. “I am very, very lucky.”

THE DINNER PARTY

The house was full of laughter. Aelin was holding court at the head of the table, as usual, Rowan beside her. She kept catching him stealing glances at her, especially her dress. Her dinner parties were no joke, and neither was the dress code that accompanied them. Lucky for her—and for Rowan—that meant a black velvet gown that hugged every one of her curves. And he couldn’t take his eyes off of it. Noticing how his gaze caught on her once more, she kicked him under the table. He sucked in a breath, surprise coating his features, but she only winked at him.

“Something the matter over there, buzzard?” Fenrys asked, eyes dancing at his use of Aelin’s favorite nickname for him. 

“He’s just being contrarian. It gives his life purpose in his old age.” Aelin answered for him before taking a sip of her wine. She raised a brow over at the buzzard in question. “Right?”

Rowan rolled his eyes. “I’m only two years older than you.”

“Arguing with me?” She clicked her tongue and shook her head, eyes dancing. “That sounds rather contrarian to me.”

Lorcan groaned at the pair of them from across the table. “I don’t even want to know. You two are repulsive.”

“You’re one to talk, Salvaterre,” Aelin said as she leaned back in her chair. She raised both brows at him. “Elide’s hand hasn’t been above the table for over twenty minutes. Whatever could it be doing?”

Both Elide and Lorcan flushed bright shades of scarlet as the whole room burst out into laughter. Rowan caught her eyes, mirth dancing there, most likely due to the placement of his own hand on her upper thigh where it had been sitting for far longer than twenty minutes. She just winked at him and took another sip of wine.

THE COASTAL TOWN

They had gone away for the weekend. Rowan had picked out a little town on the coast, and had booked a room at a local bed & breakfast for the two of them over the long weekend. With the sea air and the sunshine, Aelin thought it was perfection.

Rowan, it seemed, agreed. He had smiled for the entire weekend, and she caught him staring at her more than a few times. A couple of those stares had been the kind to heat her blood and make her toes curl, but other times, he was just— staring. It took her the entire first day to figure out what it had been in his eyes when he stared at her.

Love. It was love.

And gods, did she love him. 

“Ready, Fireheart?” He stood leaning against the doorframe. He had promised to take her out for a night on the town, and had certainly dressed for the occasion. He looked so good that it took Aelin a moment to pull herself together before she could respond. Taking a deep breath, she gave him a bright smile as she sidled up to him.

“Of course,” she answered. “Just so you know, I would kiss you right now if I wasn’t so worried about messing up my lipstick.”

He chuckled, glancing down at the floor before looking back up at her. “I appreciate it.” Leaning in closer, he pressed a kiss to her nose. “That will have to suffice for now, I guess.”

Aelin breezed past him, grabbing her coat and his. At his amused expression, she smirked at him. “Come on, buzzard. As amazing as I am sure the food will be, the faster we get going, the faster we can get back. Then we can find all sorts of ways for me to smear my lipstick.”

He had never moved faster.

Aelin was right: the food was amazing. She had let out a moan with her first bite sinful enough that Rowan had banged his knee on the table. It had been all too tempting to tease and toy with him all night, but she made it clear that if that was how the main course tasted, there was no way in hell she was skipping dessert. 

In turn, Rowan had made it painfully clear that he would be having his own dessert later. The gleam in his eyes had been enough to make her toes curl. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t looking forward to it. She had barely scooped the last forkful of delicious chocolate cake into her mouth when Rowan had asked the waiter for the check. He helped her into her coat before shrugging on his own.

The walk back to the bed & breakfast was cold, but made all the warmer by Rowan tucking her into his side. Halfway there, she paused, tugging Rowan to a stop beside her. He spun towards her, brow furrowed as he opened his mouth to ask her—

Whatever he had planned to ask her was silenced by the press of her lips to his. When they finally pulled apart, he stared down at her, pine green eyes wide. “What was that for?”

“Because I wanted to,” Aelin answered honestly. “And because I love you.”

Rowan’s swollen lips tugged up into a smile. While it was soft and gentle and shy, it still shone brighter than the lights strung up on all the buildings around them, at least to Aelin. He pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead, each eyelid, her nose, and finally her lips. “I love you, too, Fireheart.”

NOW

Something that felt awfully like an elbow stabbed into her ribs, startling Aelin enough to drop something she had been holding in her hand. A mug, she realized. The travel mug she is sure to take with her to all of her many late night study sessions in the library. Inhaling sharply, whirl around to find a different pair of green eyes staring at her. With those different green eyes was brown hair, not pale blonde.

“Finally awake, are we?” Lysandra teased. The playful smile on her face fell in the silence after she spoke.

Aelin stared at her friend, blinking away the images of t-shirts on doors, dinner parties, and coastal towns that were swirling around in her brain. She opened her mouth to answer, but when no words came out, she closed it.

“Aelin?” Worry coated Lysandra’s words. “Are you okay? You spaced out there for a while.”

“Yeah,” Aelin rasped, finally emerging from the haze. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just—”

Someone brushed against her shoulder. It was quick, but hard enough that she spun around, only to find those gods-damned green eyes looking back at her. 

“Sorry,” Rowan Whitethorn said, offering her a grin until his eyes met her own, realizing who he had bumped into, and then that smile fell. “Aelin,” he breathed. 

“Hi, Rowan.” She gave him a half smile that she knew didn’t quite reach her eyes. Aelin hated the way her face still flushed because of him, even after everything. Something she couldn’t quite place flickered in his eyes, and then he was backing up, running a hand through his hair. She really hated the way it fell like dominos, perfectly into place. 

“I, uh, I have to go. Lyria’s waiting for me.” His voice was quiet, his eyes seeming to fall on everything except her face. “But it was nice to see you.”

Aelin knew it for the lie it was. 

“Nice to see you, too, Rowan,” she offered, but he was already gone.

“Damn, in all your talking, you never said that he was that handsome,” Lysandra said, following Rowan as he hurried away from them. From Aelin. Then she froze, wincing a bit as she turned towards her friend. “I’m so sorry, Aelin. I should not have said that. Gods, I feel terrible.”

“It’s okay, Lys.” And it was. Aelin’s own eyes landed Rowan once more, where he now stood with his new girlfriend. She saw how he looked at Lyria, knowing fully well how it felt to be looked at like that. To be looked at by that by him. But it was not to be, and he was with Lyria now. And when he bent down towards her, eyes closing, she knew what would happen next, so she turned away.

There would be no dinner parties, no weekend getaways to little coastal towns. Maybe once there would have been, but not anymore. It was merely folklore she’d imagined. Days, weeks, months, entire lives with him that could never be, will never be. 

She couldn’t dare to dream about him anymore.

Aelin glanced down at the mug in her hand, the one she knew held nothing but her cold tea from yesterday, and let those daydreams fade away.

[kk095]

Robbery Gone Wrong

It was a chilly Friday night in late January with temperatures expected to drop down into the single digits with snow flurries. A lot of people decided to stay in that night, but the cold never bothered Jocelyn and Jose, so they decided to go into town for a date night. Jose was a 28 year old Hispanic male who had a large, husky frame with a comb-over hairstyle and clean shave. He worked as a car salesperson at a local car dealership and was considered a gentle giant by those who knew him. His girlfriend of a little over a year was Jocelyn. She was a 25 year old black girl who worked as a hairdresser. She was of average height and slim build, had a medium length lob hairstyle with bangs, a small tattoo on her left wrist, and a belly button ring.

The happy couple’s date night started off with food and drinks at a sushi restaurant they both liked, and then followed that up some ice skating at a nearby ice rink. After an hour or two of ice skating, the two of them decided to call it a night and walk back to the car which was parked in a public lot a few blocks away. Unfortunately, they’d never make it back to the car.

The couple walked back towards the car by themselves holding hands with one another. There wasn’t anyone else around, and the night was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. But the couple would quickly realize it was a little too quiet. A tall, thin white man who had a really rough look to him appeared seemingly out of nowhere. The man pulled out a knife, holding it up to Jose and started yelling at the young couple, demanding them to hand over their wallets. Jose got between Jocelyn and the robber, and told his girlfriend to run to the car and call 911 on her cell phone. Jocelyn stood on the sidewalk frozen in fear, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

The mugger angrily demanded the couple’s wallets once again. Jose responded by shoving the attacker, knocking him down to the pavement. Jose once again told a terrified Jocelyn to run, but she was frozen with fear. Instead of the hard shove to the ground thwarting the attacker, he sprung right back up and began stabbing away at Jose. The first wound was to Jose’s neck and the second was to the anterior chest, with the others occurring on his left forearm as self defense wounds. Jocelyn began crying and attempted to run away, but the attacker shifted their attention to Jocelyn since she was a witness. The robber quickly caught up to her and stabbed her multiple times: twice in the back, near the left shoulderblade, and once in the left armpit, which occurred when Jocelyn tried to defend herself.

After the vicious attack, the robber picked up both victims wallets, tossed the bloody knife into a nearby dumpster, and made a beeline out of there, disappearing westbound down a nearby side street. Unbeknownst to the attacker, there was an eyewitness about 100 yards away from the attack who alerted 911, informing them of a robbery turned double stabbing, and the suspect fled on foot, naming the side street.

First responders arrived on scene in the coming minutes, finding Jose motionless in a pool of his own blood and Jocelyn crying hysterically, with her clothes bloodied up. The first set of medics looked after Jose. His eyes were half open, staring lifelessly off towards his girlfriend. He was pulseless and had agonal respirations, so his jacket and shirt were cut off and resuscitation efforts began on him. One medic performed deep, violent chest compressions on him while the other stuck the defib pads to his bare chest. The defibrillator pads corresponding heart monitor read PEA, so the one medic continued chest compressions while the other set up IVs, pushing a round of epinephrine and atropine into the IV port, while also hanging a bag of ringer’s lactate to commence fluid resuscitation. Once IV drugs and fluids were set up, one medic attempted rapid sequence intubation. This proved to be a difficult situation since his airway was flooded with bright red arterial blood. The medics turned the man onto his side in an attempt to clear his airway, only for it to quickly refill with that same arterial blood. “probably a carotid artery lac or tracheal transection… or maybe even both.” One medic said to the other, shaking their head. A second attempt at intubation was attempted, but the bottom of the ET tube protruded from a neck laceration, confirming a severed trachea. “we need to trach him.” One of the medics called out.

Jose’s neck below the Adam’s apple was splashed with betadine and a quick, 1 inch cut was made. After the initial cut, the thyroid was located. Next, a vertical incision was made between the cricothyroid membrane and the thyroid cartilage. Once this tissue was incised, the tracheal rings were exposed. The site was bloodier and more obstructed than usual, but the medics were able to incise between 2 lower tracheal rings and place a tracheotomy tube. The tube was secured with a white cuff and an ambu bag was attached. After the surgical airway was confirmed, resuscitation efforts resumed. The burly man’s chest was pumped repeatedly, but still remained in PEA.

While all that was going on, the other set of medics tended to Jocelyn, who laid just a few feet away. The medics removed her jacket and shirt, only sparing her black bra. The medics rolled her onto her side to locate the stab wounds, noticing that 2 were to the posterior torso and 1 in the left axilla. Jocelyn’s breath sounds were diminished on the left side, and sounded winded when talking to the medics. One of the stab wound on her back turned out to be an open pneumothorax (or colloquially known as a sucking chest wound), so a pressure dressing was applied, while the other 2 wounds were packed and covered. A 5 lead ECG with a portable heart monitor was set up. On scene, Jocelyn’s vital signs were: BP 80/43, pulse 134bpm, oxygen saturation 93%. With these stats in mind, the medics placed 2 large bore IVs, hanging a bag of ringer’s lactate and pushed a round of morphine for pain management. Jocelyn was then moved onto a gurney and whisked away into a nearby ambulance.

The other set of medics continued coding Jose after Jocelyn’s ambulance sped off towards the emergency department. A 2nd dose of drugs were able to convert the young man to v-fib, so the defib pads were charged to 250 and a shock was delivered. The man’s chunky body flopped on the sidewalk, failing to respond to the first shock. After suctioning his trach tube and a cycle of compressions, the medics shocked him again at 300 joules. The slightly increased strength of the shock caused his back to arch just above the snow dusted pavement, shooting his chest upwards. Shock #2 failed to achieve ROSC, so a third shock at 360 was delivered. His torso shook harshly while the electricity ran through Jose’s dying body. This 3rd shock sent him into asystole. Unfortunately, the medics felt that this deterioration combined with his extensive injuries made him unsalvageable, so the medics called time of death at 9:57pm. The ambu bag was detached from the trach tube and the defib pads were peeled off his chest. After all other equipment was removed, the medics placed the man into a body bag and handed him off to the county coroner’s office.

Jocelyn’s ambulance arrived at the emergency department a few minutes later. She was still hypotensive and tachycardic, showing signs of hypovolemic shock. Tears rolled down her face while she asked about Jose in between labored breaths. A nurse told the young woman that the paramedics were taking care of him, even though the ER staff were already informed of his death.

The trauma team quickly sprung into action after Jocelyn was transferred onto the trauma room table. 4 units of unmatched o-neg, 2 units of platelets, and 2 units of FFP were hung to begin blood transfusion. A CBC, BMP, and tox screen were ordered, along with a chest x-ray, and echocardiogram. The chest x-ray showed a left sided tension pneumothorax with right sided tracheal deviation, and the echo came back clean. However, auscultation of the heart revealed distant heart sounds and a bruit de moulin murmur.

The trauma team’s next course of action was left sided chest tube placement to alleviate the tension pneumothorax. The left ribcage was rapidly sterilized with betadine before a 1 inch incision was made in between Jocelyn’s ribs. Jocelyn moaned in pain, feeling the cold, metal blade’s every move. Once the incision opening was created, the trauma team inserted a large, flexible tube into the space, navigating it deep into the incision site, into the thoracic cavity. The insertion of the tube was extremely painful for Jocelyn, as she yelped loudly during the whole insertion. After the chest tube was placed, a large clump of air shot out of the tube, along with 300ML of blood.

After the chest tube placement, Jocelyn’s breathing improved, but she still remained hemodynamically unstable. One nurse pointed out jugular venous distention, so the attending physician ordered a repeat echocardiogram on the young woman. In the 2nd echocardiogram, the heart appeared obscured. The heart can look obscured during pneumothorax because of excess air in the chest cavity, but since the chest tube was placed, that was unlikely. With that in mind, the other diagnosis was something known as pneumopericardium. This is a situation where air becomes trapped in the lining around the heart, which squeezes the heart and ultimately affects its ability to pump blood normally. With this diagnosis being agreed upon, the trauma team decided to perform an ultrasound guided subxiphoid percutaneous pericardiocentesis.

A nurse snipped off Jocelyn’s bra, exposing her perky C cup breasts. While the needle was being prepped, the subxiphoid portion of her chest was wiped down with alcohol wipes. The echocardiogram was put back onto her chest to provide a visual aid for the doctor. Next, a large, fine needle was inserted into the chest cavity below the bottom portion of the sternum at a 45 degree angle. The procedure wasn’t overly painful for Jocelyn, but she felt a burning sensation and pressure from the needle pinching it’s way further into her chest. Moments later, the needle was at the correct location, and the plunger was carefully pulled back. The body of the needle filled with air, confirming the pneumopericardium diagnosis. After the air was aspirated, the needle was carefully withdrawn from her chest.

After the pericardiocentesis, Jocelyn began to drift in and out of consciousness and her vital signs started to plummet rapidly. The sudden decline prompted the trauma team to perform rapid sequence intubation. In the following moments, a 7.0 ET tube was placed into Jocelyn’s airway and held in place with a blue tube holder.

Shortly after intubation, things took a turn for the worse. The monitors began chirping loudly, displaying v-fib. One of the nurses started deep, violent chest compressions as the attending physician called for a thoracotomy tray. Jocelyn’s perky breasts bounced and jiggled while her bare chest was splashed with betadine. With harsh compressions ongoing just inches away, the doctor picked up a 10 blade scalpel and made an incision in the 5th intercostal space starting at the sternal border, extending across the chest, under the left breast, and ending just shy of the mid axillary area just an inch or so below an already existing stab wound. With the first cut out of the way, the underlying fat, muscle, and connective tissue was cut and snipped away, making a space between the 4th and 5th ribs for the spreader. Once an adequate space was created, a finochietto rib spreader was placed into the opening with the bar pointing up towards the patient’s shoulder. While CPR continued, the knobs on the spreader were turned, forcing Jocelyn’s ribs apart. Her belly bounced outwards from the force of the compressions as a cracking and popping sound filled the room from the rib spreader.

There was a rush of both blood and air upon entry to the chest cavity, so suction was applied to the area and a 2nd chest tube was placed for additional drainage. Once a satisfactory view of the thoracic structures was obtained, a pericardiotomy was performed. Air exited from the incision site, but there was still air trapped in the posterior portion of the heart. The incision was extended and the heart was delivered, but the posterior pericardium still had air trapped in it. With internal massage beginning, a cross clamp was placed on the descending aorta near the diaphragm and another clamp was placed on the left pulmonary hilum since the moderate blood loss couldn’t be explained. After a few cycles of internal massage, a 2nd pericardiocentesis was performed to aspirate the remaining trapped air from the posterior pericardium. The large, thin needle was stuck deep in the fidgeting organ, and the body or the needle aspirated more air. The back of the heart still felt a bit inflated, almost like a fleshy balloon of sorts, so a small drain was placed into the pericardiotomy incision site.

The trauma team then decided to shock Jocelyn with the internal paddles. The large, spoon shaped paddles were charged to 20 joules and lowered into the young woman’s exposed chest cavity. A dull, wet thump was heard during the delivery of the shock. V-fib was still present, so a cycle of internal massage was performed while the internal paddles were readied. A wet, rhythmic squishing sound was heard during internal massage. The doctor could feel Jocelyn’s heart weakly fidgeting around in their hands as they manually pumped the girl’s heart.

In a moment’s notice, the next shock was delivered. Shock #2 was a 30 joule shock, which caused the patient’s torso to flop violently on the table for a brief moment. No change was present on the monitors, so internal massage was resumed and doses of atropine and epinephrine were injected intravenously. The internal paddles were recharged to 30 joules in the meantime, and placed around each side of Jocelyn’s frantically twitching heart. The next shock caused her toes to curl, showing off the large, prominent wrinkles in the soles of her size 9 feet. This shock sent the attractive 25 year old into PEA, so internal compressions were immediately restarted.

Jocelyn received numerous cycles of internal compressions, and another 2 doses of drugs before converting to v-fib at the 12 minute mark of the code. The internal paddles were recharged and a 30j shock was delivered. Jocelyn’s full breasts jiggled around while the quick jolt of electricity ran through her dying body. Once again, she remained in v-fib, so another shock at 40j was delivered shortly afterwards. Her torso flopped quickly on the table, and her left arm hung off the table. The internal paddles were recharged and placed around the woman’s fidgeting heart, and another 40j shock was delivered. This shock caused Jocelyn’s feet to leap up slightly above the table before crashing back down a second later, once again wrinkling her beautiful, size 9 soles.

The trauma team continued coding the beautiful, young stabbing victim. Jocelyn was shocked 3 more times with the internal paddles, given 2 more doses of drugs, and given numerous cycles of internal massage. Fixed and dilated pupils were reported at the 20 minute mark of the code, so resuscitation efforts were terminated at that point. Jocelyn’s time of death was called at 10:48pm while she was still in v-fib.

The ambu bag was detached and the monitors were turned off. The attending physician thanked everyone for their efforts before exiting the room, feeling defeated. The ER nurses removed the rest of the equipment and placed a cover and toe tag on Jocelyn before sending her off to the hospital morgue.

Jocelyn’s autopsy concluded that she died from rampant pneumopericardium. Upon removal of the heart during autopsy, the pathologist discovered air within the coronary arteries- a lethal clinical entity associated with high mortality rates. A laceration the left lung, and laceration of one of the smaller arteries explained the blood loss, but it wasn’t enough to be considered the cause of death.

Jose’s autopsy occurred shortly before Jocelyn’s. He had received 2 devastating wounds: the neck wound severed both the common carotid artery and the mid-trachea, while the chest wound hit the aortic arch just above the heart. Even if he made it to the hospital, it’s highly unlikely that a good outcome would’ve occurred.

The young couple’s attacker was identified via fingerprints from the murder weapon found in the dumpster. The attacker was 47 year old Jeremy Wilson. Wilson has been in and out of jail most of his adult life, with prior convictions such as drug possession, robbery, and burglary. He was located by detectives 4 days later in the next town over and was taken into police custody. He was charged with: 2 counts of 2nd degree murder, 1 count of armed robbery, and 1 count of felony battery. Due to the heinous nature of this crime, he received a sentence of life in prison without the possibility of parole.

Even though justice was served in this tragic case, it’ll never bring back the 2 young victims.

[fandomfanfics12]

Home Lives With You-Part 5

Title: Home Lives With You. Pairings: Steve x Tony Part: 5/? Warnings: swearing, fluff, angst, blood, abuse (physical and verbal), ptsd, anxiety, bullying Summary: Peter’s been living with the abusive Thompson family for years, it was the only family in the system that would take him. When Steve and Tony get a phone call from the social worker who introduced them to their daughter Morgan for an emergency placement, they feel like they must pay back the favor. But are Steve and Tony taking on more than they can handle, and will Peter be able to adjust to a warm and welcoming family home? A/N: Again this is kind of long lol, hope you enjoy!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Peter’s heart was hammering inside of his chest as they made their way to the living room. It had to be the hospital bill, that’s what had done this. he should’ve been better at concealing his wounds, he’d let his guard down in that moment with Tony and Steve. He was having a panic attack and they had been comforting him and he’d let his guard down. Dammit. How was it that Peter could get himself kicked out of the first good home that he was sent to? How had he been such an idiot? Tony sat down on the couch, Steve beside him and they both stared at him.

“sit down Pete.” Tony said and Peter did so slowly, his palms growing sweaty. As selfish as it was, Peter wondered if he’d at least be able to keep the elephant that Morgan had given him, but he knew how unlikely that was. It would go back to their precious and perfect daughter and Peter would go back to the Thompson’s basement, and the world would go back to normal.

“I’m so sorry about the hospital bill, I promise I’ll pay you back.” Please don’t kick me out. Peter put the elephant beside him and sat down on his hands so they wouldn’t see him shaking, wouldn’t show them how much he’d loved it here. How much he’d thought they had maybe potentially cared.

“this isn’t about the bill and I don’t want you to worry about that.” Tony began to dig through his pockets and Peter looked down at the floor, heart hammering inside his chest. But we are going to be sending you back, you’re just too much trouble. we don’t want our perfect daughter exposed to your freakishness. We don’t want her to see such violence at such a young age, maybe we could visit sometime. But they wouldn’t visit, old fosters never do. They just leave the kid to rot, hoping the next family can straighten the child out. Peter thought he was used to this conversation, used to people telling him that they didn’t want him anymore, but he could already feel the tears welling up in his eyes as he waited for the words.

“What is this?” Peter raised his hand and inhaled sharply to see the tiny lump of soap he’d gotten from school. He’d go to the school nurse once every couple of weeks to get a bar of soap for his “friend”. The nurse most definitely new that there was no friend but knew better than to push for more information.

“Soap sir.” Peter swallowed, the room was starting to spin and he wanted to disappear. He just wanted this part over, wanted to go back upstairs and pretend to pack up his things and then be back at Rhodey’s office. He didn’t want to be here in this moment any more.

“This is dollar store soap.” Tony said and Peter nodded, it wasn’t like the school bought fancy soap that they just gave out to students for free.

“it’s my soap sir.” Peter said and tony rose an unimpressed brow.

“why didn’t you use the bar of soap that was already in the shower?” Peter had seen it and had been tempted, but knew better than to use their things.

“Because that’s your soap sir.” He said and they shared a look.

“did you bring this from the Thompson’s?” Steve asked and Peter nodded, looking away at a picture on the wall. They were at the beach, Morgan on Steve’s shoulders and Tony making a silly face at her. Someone else must have taken the photo.

“It wasn’t their soap sir.” Peter said defensively, he hadn’t stolen anything from them. Hadn’t dared.

“Then where did you get it?”

“School nurse sir.” Peter’s fear was turning into anger, his defence mechanisms kicking in.

“alright well from here on out I want you to use our soap, okay?” Peter’s head whipped towards them and his heart leapt up into his throat.

“you’re not kicking me out?” his voice wobbled and both of their faces softened, relief was washing through Peter.

“of course not, why would you even think that?” Steve asked and Peter let his eyes fall shut.

“I thought with the hospital bills and seeing what I looked like, maybe you wouldn’t want someone like me around Morgan.” Peter admitted and heard one of them inhale sharply.

-

This kid was going to break Tony Stark-Rogers’ heart. Hearing the crack in his voice, seeing the way his eyes had darted around the room and knowing he’d thought they were going to kick him out through this whole conversation broke Tony’s heart. He took Steve’s hand and squeezed, it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

“Peter we are here for you and we are going to support you. you haven’t scared us away if that’s what you’re worried about.” Tony said and he opened his eyes, tears welled up.

“Really?” Steve and Tony moved in one swift motion to his side, wrapping their arms around him, Tony rested his head on Peter’s shoulder.

“You’re not going anywhere. I spoke to Rhodey yesterday while you were sleeping and I asked him if we could extend your stay.” At that, Peter stilled in their arms.

“What?”

“You’re going to stay with us for three months, if that’s alright with you?” Peter nodded and joy rushed through the three of them.

“I’d love that sir.” Peter whispered. Tony and Steve squeezed him a little tighter and Peter relaxed in their embrace.

“Great, now why don’t you go upstairs and get changed into some clean clothes and I’ll reheat some dinner while Steve does the washing.” Tony said, pulling back and Peter nodded. They helped him up off of the couch and then Tony made his way to the kitchen. he watched as Peter walked passed, his gangly and too-thin limbs. He wondered how often the kid had gotten a full meal if he had to get soap from the school. Tony made a mental note to put more food on Peter’s plate, just to be safe.

-

Peter dumped three of his four outfits into the washing basket Steve held in his hands.

“You were wearing that on Thursday, why don’t you change into something else?” Steve asked and Peter looked away, shit.

“I can’t.”

“Why?” Steve asked, worry in his voice. He began to ask Peter questions, about whether that had something to do with his injuries but Peter cut him off.

“This is all I have Mr Stark Rogers.” Peter admitted at long last and Steve fell silent for a moment.

“You’ve dumped like three shirts in here.”

“I only have four shirts and two pairs of jeans.” Peter said and Steve’s hands tightened on the basket.

“Oh, okay. Well we can take you shopping for new clothes tomorrow.” Steve’s voice was a notch too high but Peter shook his head.

“I can’t afford new clothes Mr Stark-Rogers.”

“That’s alright, we can pay.” And Steve walked back downstairs before Peter could argue with him. Peter stayed there for a long moment and took a few deep breaths, this family was too nice, too good to be true. They want to keep me. the thought was startling, he didn’t quite believe it. the idea that Steve and Tony could want Peter around was insane. But they had extended his stay, and that meant more to Peter than he’d ever be able to explain.

-

“Tony he needs new clothes.” Tony’s brain was too distracted by Steve, hair perfectly tousled and washing basket propped on his hip. There was a light stubble from too many days gone by without shaving that Tony was finding irresistibly attractive.

“What?” Tony asked and Steve rolled his eyes but a smile tugged at his lip.

“Peter needs new clothes. He has four t-shirts which are practically held together by a single thread.” Steve put the basket down on the kitchen counter to lift up one of Peter’s shirts and it did look extremely rumpled and worn.

“stop drooling for a minute.” Steve told him, Tony scrunched up his face and stuck out his tongue. Steve rose a brow and Tony sighed, stepping closer and reaching out to touch the material. It was rough, old and scratchy.

“I had planned for a shopping trip this weekend but we were a little busy.” Tony said and Steve nodded, silence filling the space between them. Then there were footsteps coming down the stairs, too heavy to be Morgan’s. Tony handed Steve back the shirt and Steve carried the dirty washing away before Peter entered the room. He offered Tony the smallest of smiles and slid onto one of the bar stools at the kitchen island.

“how are you feeling?” Tony asked and Peter scratched the back of his head.

“Permission to speak freely sir?” Peter asked and it took all of Tony’s might not to last.

“We’re not in the military Peter, of course you can.” Peter nodded, staring down at his hands.

“Tired, hungry and a little stressed.”

“Why stressed?” Tony asked, leaning on the island across from him and Peter looked back up to meet Tony’s eyes.

“I’ve got a lot of homework and I haven’t started any of it and I’m already so far behind in all of my classes because there wasn’t many opportunities to study back at the Thompson’s and-“ Tony reached out and placed his hand over the top of Peter’s, offering him a gentle smile.

“It’s alright Peter, I’ll help you out.” Tony said and Peter’s eyes widened.

“Really?” Tony nodded, hoping that it wasn’t English.

“of course, what subject do you need help with the most right now?” Peter scratched the back of his head, the nerves practically radiated from him.

“Chemistry.” Relief flooded through Tony’s veins. Thank god.

“chemistry is like a second language, why don’t you get your homework after dinner and we can work through some of it tonight?” Tony asked softly and Peter beamed at him.

“Thank you Mr Stark-Rogers.” Peter’s voice was barely above a whisper. Tony grinned, he had finally upgraded from sir. The oven dinged and Tony turned around, ready to dish up the meal and spend some quality time with Peter.

-

When Peter woke up the sun was shining through the window and his body was sore. He was curled up on the floor, ribs throbbing and Steve’s face just above his own.

“Pete why are you on the floor?” Steve asked and Peter blinked several times, wishing his vision would clear.

“the bed is yours.” Peter mumbled, sitting up and rolling his shoulders.

“actually me bed is in my room with Tony, this bed is yours.” Peter’s heart leapt up into his throat and his head spun towards Steve.

“really?”

“Yeah Pete.” Steve chuckled and helped Peter up to his feet. He walked over to his phone which was only on twelve percent, the screen was cracked and it was so outdated that the phone had actual buttons. 10:13 was what the time read and Peter’s eyes widened.

“um Mr Stark Rogers?” Peter turned back to Steve who was frowning at Peter’s phone.

“Yeah?”

“is the clock wrong or is it really ten-thirteen?” Peter asked nervously and Steve scratched the back of his head.

“I hope we didn’t overstep our boundaries, but Tony and I thought you could use a day off given the weekend you had.” Peter blinked, a day off?

“oh, what chores do you want me to do today?” Peter asked, Steve shook his head.

“no chores Pete, we’re taking you shopping.” Steve said and Peter tilted his head to the side.

“I don’t understand.”

“Tony called in sick to work and I don’t have class on Monday’s, even Morgan’s being fake-sick today. We’re going to take you out and get you some proper clothes and some stuff for this room and,” Steve gave a pointed look at his phone. “a real phone that you can use.”

“I have no money, I can’t accept yours either.” Steve shrugged.

“Breakfast is ready downstairs, we’ll leave as soon as you’re done.” Steve said and then exited the room, leaving Peter in nothing more than a stunned silence. He wasted no time going downstairs, Tony had made pancakes and had drenched them in maple syrup and whipped cream. Peter’s mouth watered at the sight of the large stack and he slowly sat down on the stool, glancing at Tony who watched him as he drank for his coffee cup.

“are you waiting for a countdown or something kid?” Tony asked and Peter shook his head, picking up the knife and fork and digging in to his breakfast. The food was delicious and Peter actually moaned upon his first taste of it. he could feel Tony’s eyes on him, observing him closely but Peter didn’t think about it too hard. Here he was, being offered up actual food and it tasted good. Divinely sweet and insanely mouth-watering. Peter devoured the meal, savouring every last drop and ensuring that there was not even a crumb left on the plate.

“Alright Peter go put some shoes on.” Tony said and Peter nodded. He ran back upstairs and grabbed his four dollar shoes that had come from target and slipped his feet into them. He rushed back downstairs where the Stark-Rogers were waiting for him.

“All set? Good.” They made their way outside, Tony locked the front door and then got into the car where Steve drove the four of them to the mall. Once they were all out of the car, Steve locked it and took hold of Morgan’s hand and they began to make their way inside.

“Shouldn’t I be at school, or you guys at work? We really could just do this another day.” Peter said even though they were already there.

“Nope, this can not wait any longer.” They led Peter to a store full of tech and Peter eyed the heft prices nervously.

“what are we doing here?” he whispered to Tony who just raised a brow.

“which kind of phone do you want?” Tony asked and Peter shook his head.

“I already have a phone sir.”

“Steve described it as something that belonged to a really old grandma.” Tony told him and Peter looked down at the floor.

“So? It still works.” Peter said defiantly but that didn’t seem to matter, because a salesperson was talking to Steve and Steve was telling him that he wanted to get Peter a phone.

“I have the perfect phone, and we got it in a new special edition too.” The man disappeared and then returned with a small box. When he opened it up he pulled out a phone that had a sleek and smooth black screen. But when he turned it over Peter’s brows rose. The smooth back of the phone was red at the top but slowly turned into blue as Peter’s eyes moved down.

“We’ll take it.” Tony said and Peter’s head whipped towards him.

“No sir please! It’s bad enough that you’re losing money because you took the day off, this is way too much!” Peter insisted but it fell on deaf ears as Steve walked away to go fill out the paperwork. Tony was smiling softly, Morgan looked bored but Peter’s heart was hammering inside of his chest. This was way too much, he’d never be able to pay them back for this.

“Peter it’s fine. Steve and I wouldn’t pay for it if we weren’t okay with it.” Tony pulled out his own phone which was a similar model to the one that he was buying Peter and showed Peter a long list. The first item on the list had a little tick next to it. get Peter a new phone. Before Peter could protest anymore Steve was back, bag in hand and grinning.

“where to next?”

“Well we need to get him some clothes.”

-

Peter stood in the dressing room wearing a pair of black ripped jeans, a white soft t-shirt and a blue flannel.

“Pete?” Tony asked and Peter opened up the door, Tony grinned and nodded, the basket full of clothes that he’d already insisted on buying and hands full with even more clothes to try on.

“Awesome, we’re getting that too.” Peter shook his head, he really couldn’t accept all of this.

“Mr Stark Rogers we have more than enough.” Peter said because he knew that there was no way he’d be able to talk Tony out of buying the clothes already in the basket. It had taken Peter a while to get into the swing of things when shopping for clothes. He wasn’t sure what he liked or what he looked good in, and had needed to explain to Tony that he had just received the clothes that Flash hadn’t wanted anymore. Tony had already placed an entire wardrobe’s worth of summer clothes in the basket, and now insisted that Peter try on some things for winter time.

“but what about when it gets cold?” Tony asked and Peter glanced at himself in the mirror. His skin looked yellow in this lighting.

“then we can go shopping again, if I’m still around.” Tony froze but nodded. Despite himself, Peter’s heart sank. Just because they’d asked for an extension didn’t mean anything, it wasn’t like they were going to adopt him.

“alright we’ll get you some winter clothes later, but we’re buying that outfit you’re in.” Peter nodded and shut the door so he could change back into regular clothes. He had been trying on different outfits for over an hour ad was glad that it was finally over.

“Hey Pete what’s your shoe size?” Tony asked as Peter tugged on a shirt.

“why?”

“Well you can’t keep walking around in those shoes.” Tony said through the door and peter’s eyes darted down to his feet, shoes were expensive though.

“it’s fine.”

“shoe size.” Tony said impatiently and Peter bit his lip. He wanted to let Steve and Tony buy all these things for him, wanted it so badly. But Peter wasn’t there son and he’d done nothing to deserve all this.

“It’s honestly fine Mr Stark Rogers.” Peter said and Tony knocked.

“What’s going through your head kid? We aren’t the Thompson’s and we aren’t going to neglect you. you may think all of this is frivolous or unnecessary but it’s not.” Peter nodded, still not quite believing him.

“11.” Peter said after a long while, finally caving to Tony.

“Great.”

-

Morgan had been an absolute angel. Steve had been nervous to bring her along shopping today but she loved helping Peter. Steve had told her that Bucky would be coming over on Saturday for dinner and she’d perked up again once she’d started getting bored of clothes shopping. They were now in Target, trying to find some decorations for Peter’s room. Steve was mostly sticking to neutral tones, he wasn’t exactly sure of what colours Peter liked and Steve was going to suggest that they repaint that room. Unless Peter liked the cream colour that it already was. Steve stared down at the clock, lamps and bedding stuff. Steve had grabbed a couple new pillows, a throw blanket and two different duvet covers that he’d thought Peter might like.

“I’m hungry.” Morgan whined as they waited in line.

“Why don’t we get some doughnuts when we’re done here?” Steve asked her and she gave him a big toothy grin.

“Really? Yay!” she clapped and stomped her feet on the ground in excitement. Steve chuckled at her small antics and soon enough he was handing over his card to pay for Peter’s things.

“you know dad, if we got a doughnut machine we could make doughnuts all the time!” she pointed to one in the shop that was on display and Steve shook his head.

“Maybe another time sweetie.” Steve made a mental note to bring it up to Tony for Morgan’s birthday. They always had an ever-growing list for things like birthdays and Christmases. They’d need to make one for Peter now too. They made their way over to the little doughnut shop and Steve kept an eye out for Tony. He’s not going to be happy that we’re doing this. But Tony was nowhere in sight.

“Do you want the one with rainbow sprinkles?” Steve asked and Morgan nodded her head.

-

Tony spotted his tall, blonde and gorgeous husband across the walkway, and it took Tony a moment to understand where Morgan and Steve were going exactly.

“This one seems nice.” Peter said after inspecting the shampoo bottle that Tony had just handed him.

“We’ll come back. Peter you push the trolley.” Peter put the bottle down and followed Tony out of the store, they made their way over to the doughnut shop.

“Do you want the one with rainbow sprinkles?” Steve asked and Morgan started to eagerly nod her head.

“Steven Grant Stark Rogers are you buying doughnuts without me?” Steve and Morgan spun, eyes wide and mouths agape and then Steve’s face morphed into a smirk.

“maybe.” Tony crossed his arms and shook his head.

“doughnuts?” Peter asked and the three of them turned to him, his brows furrowed.

“You’ve had a doughnut before, right Pete?” Steve asked and Peter bit his lip.

“No?” Tony gasped extra dramatically, Morgan covered her mouth as if she were going to scream and Steve just rose his brows.

“We’re getting a box Steve.” Tony said and marched up to the counted to order it. he could feel the eyes of his family watching him and Tony couldn’t contain the smile as he ordered the doughnuts. While Peter was still on edge, he’d most definitely relaxed today. Calming down ever so slightly as the day had progressed, resisting a little less each time Tony suggested something for him. Tony was glad he’d taken the day off work to spend this time with Peter, even if Hammer would taunt him about it for the rest of the week.

-

Doughnuts were officially Peter’s new favourite food. Tony had gotten a variety of flavours but overall, the plain glazed doughnuts were his favourite. He was still stunned by the amount of things that Steve and Tony had bought him, no one had ever done anything like this for Peter before and if he thought about it for too long he would become overwhelmed.

“Peter we were thinking that you’d like to repaint your room, so what colour would you like?” Steve asked as the four of them made their way back to the car. Peter inhaled sharply but shook his head, he couldn’t accept anything more from them.

“I like the colour that it already is.” Peter lied, it wasn’t that the cream was ugly, it just wasn’t what he would have picked for a bedroom.

“liar.” Tony teased and Peter managed a small smile.

“thank you for all that you guys have done, it’s more than I could ever thank you for.” Peter said as they reached the car. He really didn’t have a clue as to how he’d repay them, maybe one day he could come back once he had a job and give them a big fat cheque to make up for all of this. because there was no way they were keeping him, thoughts like that were just too good to be true.

@smallnjh @picklepotatoe14 @thatisamericasass @briebriebrieee @aftereveryraincomessunshine @meyamoadriytu​

[welcometoclass1ahell]

Its Okay To Not Be Okay:

Kirishima x GN!Reader

(I've been gone for months but uh yeah this little piece will probably explain why kinda. Been feeling like absolute shit so wrote this to feel better woo! Tw:Angst? Def emotional)

He noticed you weren't in the common room with everyone else. You usually sat between him and Kaminari. Today however, you were missing from your usual placement. 

Excusing himself, Kirishima stood up and made his way to the elevator, stepping inside to press the button that would allow him to reach the top floor. He had a guess to where you were, somewhere away from the common room chaos and away from everyone in general. You had started this habit of disappearing to be alone since the third year started. 

Kirishima wondered if he was the only one who noticed. You were more quiet, spacing out as if the world around you seemed to only bore you. Sighing he ran a hand through his hair while tilting his head back. He stared at the elevator ceiling, the grey shine causing his reflection to stare back at him. He was slightly nervous, not even sure how to approach you. He didn't want to seem like he was prying, but its been weeks and it only seemed like you were distancing yourself more and more from everyone, even him. Your best friend, the one you could trust with everything. Right? Kirishima was going further into his rabbit hole of thoughts he almost didn't hear the elevator ding. 

Stepping out he made his way to the emergency stairs that lead up to the roof of the building. His steps became more slow as he reached the dreaded door, his hand hovering over the handle. 'Shit...I just hope they are okay," he sighed before opening the door. 

There you were, your new spot being on the floor of the roof, lying down with your limbs sprawled out as you stared up at the sky with an unreadable look on your face. 

Shutting the door behind him, Kirishima approached with his hand in his pockets,"Hey," he spoke out and looked down at you, who hadn't even bothered to look back at him.

"Hey," you responded back and the empty tone of your voice made Kirishima frown.

"I just wanted to check on you," Kirishima started as he sat down beside your head before looking up at the sky above you. The last bit of the sun's rays waving their goodbyes before they would disappear into yet another night at U.A. "Its just… you've been different lately. I'm actually...," Kirishima paused not knowing how to word it but something inside him set into autopilot. He hated seeing you like this. It was like you were never mentally there when you were together with friends and now you were never physically there at all anymore either.

"I'm worried about you. You haven't been, well you," he pointed out and looked back at you to find your eyes have finally moved to meet his.

"That obvious huh?" You bluntly responded, shrugging afterwards as if this whole ordeal was not a big deal. "I'll be fine," you added and looked back up at the pink clouds. The way you were staring at them with such intensity slightly scared Kirishima. 

"I don't believe you," was the first thing that came out his mouth.  Those words slightly surprised him but it was what he believed. There was no way you would be fine. 

"Then don't," you harshly responded, sitting up to glare at him. "It makes no difference to me,"

Feeling shocked, the redhead stared at you in disbelief. You really had changed. Before now you would have never used that tone against him.

"I just….want to help. Whatever it is, I want to be there for you. I won't even do anything if you don't want me to. I can just listen, if that would help," he sincerely returned. "Were friends right? Its what friends do," 

Silence filled the air between you and him for a short while before a defeated sigh fell out of you. Falling onto your back you closed your eyes as Kirishima watched, staying silent to give you time. 

"I feel like shit. Anything I do doesn't make a difference. I mean shit, I fucking hate this Kiri, were fucking kids and after all this bullshit we went through and everyone's acting like its okay. It's like an early fucking grave. And what are we fighting for? Some corrupt government to keep things the same? Tossing people aside like trash?" You began, your angry tone dying down to a hopeless one. "I fucking hate thinking like this. Feeling like this. I just….I just want to be okay damn it. But at this point I'll take not feeling anything at all than this,"

Kirishima sat speechless watching as the tears had started to flow down the side of your face, his own heart squeezing in hurt from seeing you like this. A cold drop to his hand had made him realize he himself was crying. "I," He didn't even know what to say.

Scooting closer to you, he used his thumb to wipe away your own tears, watching as your eyes fluttered open to meet his again. 

"Listen, I get it. This whole thing seems fucked but we are the new heroes right?  We can make a difference. We have one more year of school and then we can make a change out there," whispering softly to you, he combed his fingers through your hair. It only seemed natural to do so as he continued. 

"Plus who is okay right now? Not all of us at least. Shit even Bakugo is having his own problems with dealing with what's happened over the past 2 years. But you know what?" He questioned to which you hummed back wanting to know where he was going with this. 

"Whoever said it wasn't okay to not be okay? We're still humans. I even feel like shit, but hanging out with the guys, seeing you everyday… it's been making it a little bit more okay everyday. If you aren't okay now, then that's fine. We can't always be feeling amazing everyday because then we wouldn't want to go farther, make changes, to want differences. Not being okay is just a step to being even better,"

He hadn't realized he was ranting till he felt you shaking. Worried he looked down only to realize you were laughing. He watched in awe as tears poured down your cheeks as you let out your amazing laugh of which he hadn't heard in a long time. 

"You're amazing Kiri...thank you," you whispered and although you sounded sad, he was happy that there was emotion in your voice. 

"I really hope that's true. This sucks," you sighed, nestling in closer to his as the sky slowly was approaching a darker hue, the wind starting to pick up the colder air and pushing it over the rooftops.

Wrapping an arm around you he brought you closer, hugging you to his warmth as he nodded,"Same here. Let's find out together then okay? Coming up here alone to go down a rabbit hole in your thoughts is gonna make you feel worse. If you need a listener just come to me. We can go for a walk or chill in my room. Maybe even spar to get some anger out. Anything but please don't isolate yourself from us….from me," he begged to which he received only a nod. 

He guessed you were done talking for now, that you would like to sit in comfortable silence to end this off to which he would comply with. Putting his chin on your head he closed his eyes, relieved he came to talk to you. It sucked to hear you are feeling like shit but he's happy he can at least be there for you. 

Breathing slowly and peacefully on the rooftop while hearing the nearby traffic, chatter, and the downtime come to nighttime felt relaxing as he held you. He even felt you relaxing in his arms to which he smiled. Even if it is for a few moments, he's glad to give you a safe space.

[babyatm1]

What Makes A Will Legal?

Residential Property You Should Not Include In Your Will

Content

If You Don'T Wish To Use A Lawyer

Indication Your Will In Front Of Witnesses.

To Determine Who Will Care For Your Minor Children

Secret Files To Have Together With Your Last Will As Well As Testament.

When Should You Obtain Legal Guidance To Compose Your Will?

Making Older Individuals'S Voices Heard.

Total An Inheritance Tax Type.

Using A Lawyer To Compose Your Will

What Is Probate?

A simple will is a basic will without any expensive stipulations or stipulations. You can state just how you want your stuff distributed and also that obtains it.

If You Don'T Intend To Utilize A Lawyer

Please keep in mind the table is sorted by Celebrity Rating adhered to by supplier name and also attributes web links straight to the carrier's website. Usage Canstar's life insurance policy contrast selector to watch a broader variety of policies.

Are online wills legal UK?

In order for a Will to be legally valid in England and Wales, you must sign your Will in the presence of two witnesses, and your witnesses must witness (sign) your Will in your presence; and this cannot be done online. clicking here 'll always need a physical document to be signed and witnessed.

Since Buddhists also turn down agenthood, the standard compatibilist methods are closed to them also. Rather, the Buddhist thoughtful approach is to take a look at the metaphysics of origin. Old India had several warmed arguments concerning the nature of causality with Jains, Nyayists, Samkhyists, Cārvākans, and Buddhists all taking somewhat various lines. In numerous ways, the Buddhist placement is more detailed to a concept of "conditionality" than a theory of "origin", particularly as it is stated by Nagarjuna in the Mūlamadhyamakakārikā.

Who should keep the original Will UK?

1. Leave it with a solicitor. If a solicitor writes your will, they will usually store the original free of charge and give you a copy – but ask them to make sure. Most solicitors will also store a will they didn't write, but there will probably be a fee.

Your will doesn't have to be a time-sucking frustration to create. You can make use of a simple will to describe who gets your things and also who deals with your kids if you die.

Check in to get going By checking in, I am signing up for get Canstar's Rate Checker e-mails as well as Home Loans e-newsletter. Specify-- for example, do not simply leave everything to 'my spouse'-- utilize your better half's complete name. The basic message is-- just utilize a Do It Yourself will if your desires are really straightforward and also your financial circumstance isn't complicated. If you live with your partner, yet are neither married nor in a civil collaboration, you might wish to take into consideration creating a common-law marriage agreement in addition to writing a will. While a will establishes what takes place to your possessions as well as items when you pass away, a common-law marriage agreement define what happens if your partnership breaks down-- so a bit like a will for the living.

That's because the enduring partner can not transform a joint will also after the death of their partner. So if an enduring partner remarries and also has a stepchild, they can't leave anything in the joint will to that stepchild. To learn more concerning making a will-- and to see every little thing Nolo has to use when it pertains to intending your estate-- visit our Wills, Trusts & Probate Center. Tell your administrator where your will is as well as how to obtain accessibility to it when the moment comes.

You will be asked to leave a gift for the Stroke Association in your will, but the decision is your own. The Stroke Association uses a complimentary simple will to over-60s or stroke survivors that are 18+.

TheCancer Study UKFree Will Service enables over-18s to obtain a cost-free simple will. Please keep in mind that which of the above charities is funding the system relies on your place. However, you can select to leave gifts to any type of charity you such as. You are under no commitment to leave a present (known as a 'legacy') to among the Free Wills Month charities.

If you are seeking to change an existing life insurance plan, you need to consider your personal scenarios, consisting of continuing the existing cover until the replacement policy is provided and also cover confirmed. Your existing policy might have various features to products presently in the marketplace. Please consider what functions are ideal for you when comparing insurance items as well as refer to the supplier for additional information on a policy. If you decide to look for Life insurance policy, you will deal directly with an insurance policy supplier, and not with Canstar.

Indicator Your Will Before Witnesses.

Since your will is full, allow your successors and also administrator know you have created a will and also where you are keeping it so that they can access it after your fatality. If you are married or have kids that are alive, checklist the names of your spouse and children and also your marriage day. You can produce your will either as a published computer record or handwrite it. Phone number the pages of the file (1 of 3, 2 of 3, 3 of 3, etc.) to ensure that it is clear the amount of web pages there are. While a lawyer can be very practical, you can produce a will yourself if you favor.

If your children are minors, decide that you wish to increase them in the extremely unlikely occasion that you as well as their various other moms and dad can't. Every will have to name someone to work as executor, to execute the regards to the will. Be sure that the person you desire agrees to offer-- the task should not come as a shock. Here are minority simple actions you need to take to make your will.

You can also pick the person who will ensure your will is executed as well as name a guardian for your kids if something takes place to you. And also you can even name the individual you intend to care for your favorite ferret.

If this intuitive photo became incorrect, after that presumably that we can not legitimately be held ethically in charge of our actions. Besides, if I do not have free will in a feeling that involves alternate possibilities, after that I have to pick what I really pick. And also if I have to choose what I perform in reality select, then probably I am compelled so to select, and can not rather be considered morally responsible for my selection. It is extremely possible, after that, to accept something like the "Concept of Different Possibilities", according to which a representative is morally responsible for an action only if he could have done otherwise. If is true, then moral duty needs free choice; and if causal determinism dismiss such different opportunities, it would therefore dismiss ethical obligation.

Credit scores solutions for Aussie Elevate items are provided by AHL Investments Pty Ltd ACN Australian Credit Score Permit (" Aussie") and also its appointed credit rating representatives. Credit history and also any applicable balanced out make up Aussie Elevate are issued by Bendigo and Adelaide Financial Institution Limited ABN AFSL/ Australian Credit Permit. ASIC mentions the general public Trustee could not credit make your will if you are aged older than 60 or choose the Public Trustee to be your administrator. You may want to check with the Public Trustee in your state or area to recognize the needs that relate to making a will where you live. If you're contrasting life insurance policies, the contrast table listed below screens some of the policies currently readily available on Canstar's data source for a years of age non-smoking male working in a professional line of work.

However, many individuals do not maintain a recurring connection with a lawyer, as well as it is common for attorneys to dissolve law office and also create brand-new ones, so it might be challenging for your executor to find the will when the demand occurs.

Because your administrator is somebody you depend on, no person else needs to recognize the components of the will or that it also exists.

Also, if you relocate some range away from where your lawyer methods, it would be more difficult for your administrator to acquire the will.

Usually, the best location to save your will is with your executor.

Your lawyer may keep the original-- often for a nominal fee.

Such on the internet archives may be a good location to save information for an administrator, nevertheless, a court of probate might not accept a published duplicate from such a digital will vault when an initial is required.

In order to satisfy your duties as the administrator of an estate, you must first be approved the authority via a letter of testamentary.

If you do not recognize who that is or if you are uncomfortable approaching them, you can look the probate court documents in the area where the deceased person lived.

There are firms offering on the internet storage space of documents as well as individual info.

In Buddhism it is shown that the concept of absolute liberty of option is ill-advised, since it denies the reality of one's physical needs as well as situations. Just as wrong is the concept that people have no option in life or that their lives are pre-determined. To reject flexibility would be to reject the initiatives of Buddhists to make moral progress. Pubbekatahetuvada, the idea that all happiness as well as experiencing emerge from previous activities, is thought about an incorrect sight according to Buddhist teachings.

To Identify That Will Look After Your Minor Children

Credit scores services for Aussie Select, Aussie Activate and also Aussie Elevate products are given by AHL Investments Pty Ltd ACN (" Aussie") and also its appointed credit report reps, Australian Credit score Licence. Credit Rating for Aussie Select items is supplied by Residential Home mortgage Team Pty Ltd ACN, Australian Debt Permit (" RMG"). RMG is a wholly-owned subsidiary of the Commonwealth Bank of Australia ABN AFSL and Australian Credit Report Licence. Credit Score for Aussie Activate products is provided by Pepper Finance Corporation Limited ACN (" Pepper"). Pepper Group Limited ACN, Australian Credit report Permit acts upon behalf of Pepper.

How much does an attorney charge to draw up a will?

Flat Fees. It's very common for a lawyer to charge a flat fee to write a will and other basic estate planning documents. The low end for a simple lawyer-drafted will is around $300. A price of closer to $1,000 is more common, and it's not unusual to find a $1,200 price tag.

The trick is recognizing your state's details needs and also making certain your will meets them. It's additionally possible to create a will that serves in every state so that you avoid any possible problems.

Trick Files To Have Alongside Your Last Will And Testimony.

How much money before probate is required UK?

It's generally considered that if everything the deceased person owned is worth less than £15,000 Probate won't be needed, but this isn't true in every situation. This is because each financial institution has their own limit that determines whether or not Probate is needed. This ranges from £5,000 to £50,000.

When Should You Get Lawful Recommendations To Draft Your Will?

signed by the proprietor of the will and be seen by 2 individuals. " If you utilize an online will package, get it examined by a lawyer or Public Trustee," economic regulatory authority ASIC's Moneysmart.com.au web site states, which adds that a solicitor or Public Trustee are most likely to bill you for doing so.

Nonetheless, there could be different guidelines in various locations of Australia when it involves wills, according to the Australian government's australia.gov.au info portal. The site advises that each person examine the rules that apply in their state or territory prior to beginning any service a will.

Complete An Inheritance Tax Kind.

This advice is basic as well as has not taken into consideration your objectives, monetary situation, or demands. Consider whether this suggestions is best for you, having respect to your very own goals, monetary situation and needs. You might need economic suggestions from a suitably qualified adviser. Consider the product disclosure declaration before making any type of monetary choice. For additional information, readCanstar's Financial Services and also Credit History Overview, and check out ourdetailed disclosure, important notes as well as responsibility disclaimer.

How much do solicitors charge to execute a will UK?

Some probate specialists and solicitors charge an hourly rate while others charge a fee that is a percentage of the value of the estate. This fee is usually calculated as between 1% to 5% of the value of the estate, plus VAT.

Nonetheless, the hope is that many will see this as a chance to aid their preferred cause. The advocate of PAP believes that the lack of the flexibility to choose or else does not by itself explain the lack of moral duty. see this page is because he thinks that when this absence acquires, its getting is itself discussed by, and can only be described by, the event of causal determinism in the actual series of events. The Concept of Alternate Possibilities and also the Frankfurt-type Instances. As I recommended above, we normally think that the future is a garden of forking courses-- that we a minimum of at some essential points in our lives have more than one path branching into the future.

It's after that inspected by a Farewill will specialist, who'll send you a web link to download your finished will, which you'll need to print, sign and also have actually observed. As soon as you more than happy and have actually authorized it, Co-op shops your will. As soon as you have actually done what you can, you'll obtain a follow-up phone call from a specialist will writer. You make use of an on-line layout, which is after that examined by Co-op Legal Solutions.

What To Expect From Your Lawyer

As soon as this impression is revealed, one's initial conviction that the absence of an alternate choice is sufficient for the lack of ethical duty is vindicated. There can be two various ways in which some variable makes a representative unable to select or do or else. In one way, the factor does not play a role in the actual sequence; it does not flow with the real program of occasions. In one more means, the element does move through the actual series.