#it is Christmas o’clock when my soul says it is

[theworld-accordingtocasey]

Every culture & household has its Christmas customs & whatnot & I respect that

Idc what time it is or how old I am, it is not Christmas until I wake my mom up at 6am so I can have present and she watch me open it & have warm drink & she go back to bed & I play w/ my new game or laptop or toy or book or w/e tf it is

[iris-writesx]

the rain is always gonna come if you’re standing with me | stede x ed x izzy

read it here or read it on ao3 <3

i’ve spent about a week writing down details and plans for this au that i’m starting, and i planned to introduce it with a fluffy christmas fic, but i had a bad mental health day and projected my heart and soul into stede and this is the result. i’m sorry if this was a rambled mess or if some of it doesn’t make sense, most of it is based on my own experience. sending love to anybody who can relate <3

but first au!!! yay!!! i love these guys with my whole heart and the idea of them in love and living together is just *chef’s kiss*

let me know if you like it! and if you want to see other things! i feel like this isn’t the best opener to the au as things i have planned are more lore heavy but i kinda like this so here you go akdnwkf

title is from “peace” by taylor swift x

4.6k words — modern day au, hurt-comfort, anxiety, dissociation, panic attacks

more from this au; and now i see daylight

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Stede didn’t know why.

He didn’t know why it happened — why sometimes, the pit inside of him opened up wide enough to swallow him whole. Didn’t know what caused it, why he felt that way, he just… did.

And he hated it. He hated not being able to talk to people, zoning out, barely able to do anything other than listen to music and cry. He forced himself through the motions of the day — breakfast, drive himself and Izzy to work, do work, eat lunch, go home, have dinner, shower, sleep — but on days when he didn’t feel good, it seemed mechanical. Like following instructions. Not like… not like life.

He could tell when he woke up to an empty bed that it was a bad day. Stede was usually the first one awake, and unless he’d been up late the previous night or sick — and he was neither — then it was going to be a bad day.

He was zoned out as he sat up, pulling on one of Ed’s shirts and his joggers, barely focused on anything as he sipped from the water he kept by the bed. His head felt like it was underwater, a little numb and a little thick, and by the time he had made it to the kitchen he felt like a puppet on strings.

The first gut punch of the day was that Ed had already left for work.

Usually, they all woke up together and had about an hour until Ed had to leave first, as the garage he worked at opened at eight o’clock. Stede knew that people wouldn’t be going to a library that early, so he chose not to open his shop — his shop, would have usually made him smile, but it did nothing to cut through the fuzz in his head — and instead opened closer to ten o’clock. Though, he and Izzy got there an hour earlier to set up for the day.

Stede stopped in the doorway of the living room, blinking. Izzy — already dressed and sipping his morning coffee — was in his armchair, and the spot where Ed would usually be was empty.

Part of Stede was upset that he hadn’t come to say goodbye, or Izzy hadn’t woken him up, but he knew they wanted him to get enough sleep. Probably just thought he was tired.

“Stede?”

Stede blinked, eyes back on Izzy, face a little flushed when he realised he must’ve zoned out. He cleared his throat and put on a smile, one that didn’t even feel convincing. “Morning, darling. When did Ed leave?”

“About ten minutes ago. Was just about to come wake you up, are you okay?” Izzy had that look — the one he got when he was worried, looking for whatever was wrong.

Stede put more effort into his smile that time and nodded, forced himself to walk further into the room and over to his partner. “I’m perfect, was just a little tired last night,” he leaned down to kiss Izzy, felt his partner’s hand squeezing his waist lightly. “Did you sleep well, love?”

—

Stede mechanically followed through the rest of his morning.

He had a tea with Izzy, before he went to get dressed in the first clothes he could find, didn’t spend half an hour putting an outfit together like he usually would. If Izzy noticed he was quick, he didn’t mention it.

He skipped breakfast, told Izzy he just fancied a pastry from the café tucked away at the back of his library — the café that Izzy worked at, so really, it was a terrible lie because he’d know if Stede didn’t eat anything. The thought of eating made his stomach turn, he didn’t want anything.

He got his bag for work, made sure Izzy had everything he needed, before going out to the car and drove them there.

He unlocked his shop, and busied himself getting set up; put new books out, organised shelves, greeted the staff as they all showed to work. He let Lucius talk away to him behind the counter about his date with Pete — who coincidentally worked at the garage with Ed — but Stede couldn’t really recall much from the conversation. He hadn’t really been listening.

It was a Sunday, so the saving grace there was that they could get out early, and Ed would be home before them for once since he got off work at lunch time. But they barely had many customers on Sundays, people preferred to be cozy at home.

That’s where Stede wanted to be. Curled up in bed, not thinking, not conscious.

The morning dragged, and by the time twelve o’clock rolled around Stede couldn’t take the silence of the store anymore. The lack of customers and the silence meant that he had time to think — about how much of a failure he was, and how Izzy and Ed probably preferred each other over him, and how he couldn’t be normal, how he couldn’t, he just-

Stede put the stack of books down that he had been carrying and dug into his pockets, pulled out his phone, and his other hand searched for his earbuds.

On days like that, he learned that music helped a little. And a little was enough to keep him sane enough until he could go home.

But his other pocket was empty.

��Lucius?” Stede looked over at him, forced a smile. “Could you stay by the desk for a minute? I need to go out back for something.”

Once Lucius had waved him off he quickly walked through the door behind the desk and into the staff room, searching for where he had put his bag. He found it next to Izzy’s, and every moment that passed as he rooted through it and didn’t find his earbuds, the more worked up he got.

He even resorted to digging through Izzy’s bag, just in case he had dropped them in there by accident, but he couldn’t find them.

He hadn’t brought them.

It was such a silly thing, but it was enough for Stede’s eyes to well with tears, huffed out breaths as he leant against the wall and tried to keep from crying.

But he was so… so strung out, and tired, and overwhelmed, and he couldn’t even stop his stupid brain from overthinking he just-

He choked on a sob and, mortified, covered his mouth with his hands in the hopes that Lucius hadn’t heard him.

Once the damn had broken he had no hope of mending it again, so he stood like a child in the corner of his office and cried.

On days like that Stede wished he could just… stop existing. Disappear. Not have to deal with- with whatever this was.

He was still trying to muffle his crying into his hands when the door opened, and his eyes widened when he looked up to see who had walked in, expecting Lucius or Frenchie — the two who predominantly worked in the library section of his shop with him — but it was Izzy.

He looked just as shocked as Stede did, he clearly hadn’t been expecting to see Stede breaking down in the staff room.

“Stede?” Izzy pushed the rest of the way into the room, shut the door behind him, and wasted no time in going over to hold Stede’s shoulders.

He couldn’t tell if he was more comforted by Izzy’s presence or embarrassed.

“S-sorry-” he sniffled, looked anywhere but at Izzy’s face. “I- god I’m okay, I just- fuck I’m sorry, Iz- Izzy-”

“Stede,” Izzy squeezed his shoulders, his voice hard and grounding. “Take it easy, okay?”

But he couldn’t, not now that he had opened the barrier. Stede all but fell apart, choking on his tears and mumbled apologies and just- he couldn’t help it. He felt so embarrassed and stupid and ugly, and there was nothing he could do.

He only registered the familiar ache in his chest when he felt Izzy’s grip tighten, and he shook him a little, and it was only then that Stede realised that Izzy was talking to him, he just hadn’t been focusing enough to hear it.

The only thing he could focus on was the drumming of his heart against his rib cage, the ache in his chest that was there because-

Oh god he couldn’t breathe.

Izzy shook him again, a little more violently, and Stede blinked at him, eyes wide and choking on his sobs and not getting enough air in-

Izzy grasped one of his hands and pulled it forwards, laid it upon his chest. And though his drumming heartbeat and the buzzing in his ears stopped him from hearing Izzy, he could see what he was doing — he had exaggerated his breaths and kept Stede’s hands firmly planted on his chest, allowed him to feel the steady rise and fall, to let him copy it.

It took a little bit of time for him to fall into the rhythm of it. By the time he had stopped crying heavily enough to actually make a decent effort, he had both hands planted on Izzy’s chest and his eyes screwed shut, just let himself focus on the rise and fall of his chest.

Rise, inhale, fall, exhale; over and over and over.

Stede couldn’t tell if they had been at it for minutes or hours, but eventually he had calmed enough to breathe steadily. The tears were still falling but they were merely silent streams, nothing as- as dramatic as before.

Stede’s hands slipped from Izzy’s chest, and with what little energy he had drained, he opened his eyes to look at Izzy. And the expression he had on his face was so… so mortified. He hadn’t meant to worry him, or freak him out. Just the thought that he had upset him made his eyes brim with more tears.

Izzy sighed, and didn’t say anything as he took Stede into his arms, let him melt against his body. His arms held Stede tightly, and despite himself he felt good. Izzy had always been a firm presence, a stronghold for Stede. Where Ed tended to be better with words, Izzy made him feel safe.

He stood there for a while longer. Felt Izzy’s hands as they dragged up the length of his back and back down rhythmically, like they weren’t both missing their shifts by being shut away in the staff room.

Stede was the one to pull away, and the next time he looked at Izzy he still looked just as worried.

“Sorry,” his voice was hoarse as he lifted his hands to wipe at his eyes, took a deep shaking breath. “Sorry, Iz- thank you, you didn’t need to- that was very nice of you.”

Izzy frowned. “You want to tell me what has you so tightly wound?”

“It-” Stede hesitated. He’d never really… vocalised how he got on those days to Izzy and Ed. They knew he had anxiety, and that sometimes he had bad days, but he’d never told them what it was like, what to look for. And, in the middle of both of their shifts, it certainly wasn’t the time to get into that discussion, so he settled on, “I left my earbuds at home,” Stede paused, suddenly embarrassed at how silly he sounded. “I know that sounds stupid, I’m not- I mean, I’m okay I just- I think I’m a little stressed and I just wanted to listen to music but without the buds I, well, can’t.”

“That’s not stupid,” Izzy shook his head, like he knew something else was wrong. “But you won’t need them anymore.”

Stede frowned. “Well I- I mean, we’re working until four so I hardly think I’ll survive the shift without them,” he exhaled deeply, wiped his eyes again, before looking back at Izzy. “Do I look okay? I don’t want customers to tell I’ve been crying.”

“Are you fucking insane?” Izzy scowled. “You aren’t going back to work, Stede, you almost just fucking collapsed.”

“…that’s a bit of an overstatement.”

Izzy glared at him. “We’re going home. Come on.” He left no room for argument as he stepped around Stede and collected both of their bags, tossed Stede’s jacket at him, and hung his own over his arm, before he was shepherding Stede back out of the office and into the library.

“We’re going home,” Izzy announced to Lucius as they walked by, and Stede made sure not to look up at him so he couldn’t see the tears on his face. “Stede feels unwell.”

“What?” Lucius groaned. “That leaves four of us to run this whole shebang, Iz.”

“This place is fucking empty, shut the shop. Go home early.” Izzy didn’t let Lucius add anything else as he just pushed Stede out of the shop and out towards the car park.

The cold air felt nice on his tear stained face, and Stede made sure to take some more deep breaths as they walked to the car. He didn’t even ask to drive — just let Izzy direct him to the passenger seat, where he got all buckled up and just let himself sit.

Izzy got into the drivers side and connected his phone to the car’s Bluetooth — which had taken literally months for Stede to teach him how to do it — and once they were driving he called Ed.

“Izzy,” Ed’s voice came through the car’s speakers. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“We’re on our way back now,” Izzy informed him. “Stede had a panic attack…”

Stede let himself zone out as he watched out of the window at the cars and trees that whipped past.

It was sat in his own thoughts that Stede realised how truly embarrassing the past hour had been. He was an adult, why did he need music playing to keep it together? Why had he gone into a panic attack over it? And Izzy�� he’d probably made him so worried. He made him shut the store for him, all because he couldn’t keep it together.

Nothing was even wrong it was just… just his fucking mind, if anything was wrong it was him, him and his stupid thoughts and his-

There was a tight squeeze on his thigh and Stede jumped, startled, and whipped his head around to see Izzy looking at him.

“Sorry,” Izzy winced at his scare. “We’re home now.”

Stede looked back out of the window, actually focused, to see that they really were back home. The front door opened and he watched as Ed walked outside, giving a wave to the car, and by the look on his face — the poorly masked worry — Stede could only wonder what Izzy had said to him on the phone when he had zoned out.

Izzy took the bags again, so when he got out of the car Stede only had to grab his jacket. All of his movements, again, felt mechanical. Didn’t feel natural.

The only thing that did feel a little closer to normal were Ed’s arms around him once he was out of the car.

“Hey love,” Ed breathed into his hair, and Stede just sunk himself into his embrace. Ed was warm and familiar, it felt like hugging Izzy; good. “Iz said you had a bit of a moment at work. All okay?”

Stede clenched his jaw and nodded. A familiar feeling had built up in his throat, and he knew that if he spoke then he’d just cry.

“I made you some tea, that herbal shit you like. It’s in the living room. Thought you might wanna wear something comfy, too, so I got some clothes out for you to change into, that jumper of mine you can’t keep your hands off of-”

Ed cut himself off when Stede sobbed. He didn’t even know why he was crying at this point. It was just… his partners were so kind. He didn’t deserve it.

“Oh babe,” Ed squeezed him tight, rubbed his back. “Let’s get you inside, okay? We’ll get you all cozy, you’ll be okay.”

Stede nodded — he couldn’t say anything because he couldn’t stop crying — so he let Ed tighten his arm around his shoulders before he led him into the house, just behind Izzy who, Stede realised, had been waiting by the door worriedly. Between the two of them they got Stede over the threshold and into the house, where he was guided to just sit on the sofa in the living room. The change of clothes could wait — Stede didn’t even know if he had the energy to change.

He felt like he had been awake for a week straight. He felt like he wasn’t really there.

Ed had planted himself on the sofa right beside him, and when Stede focused on it he realised that he was rubbing his back, long firm. He let himself focus on that, dragging in breaths in time with the movement.

“You’re alright, mate,” Ed murmured beside him, pressed kisses to Stede’s shoulder in between his words. “We’ve got you, you’re okay.”

“Stede,” he only looked up when he heard Izzy’s voice in front of him, and realised he had a mug in his hand — the tea that Ed had promised. “Here.”

Stede forced a tearful smile as he took the mug in his hands, blinked through the blurriness of his vision as he sipped from the drink.

He wasn’t even sure if he was tasting it.

Instead of taking up his usual seat in his armchair, Izzy sat himself on the coffee table in front of the sofa, in front of Ed and Stede.

“What do you need, love?” Ed murmured from his side, voice soft, and to be completely honest Stede just wanted to stop being so useless. But he knew Ed wouldn't take well to hearing those words.

Stede shrugged, glanced between Ed and Izzy, but when he felt his face burning from the shame of his actions that day he just shrugged and locked his eyes onto his tea. “I don’t know,” he whispered, sniffled through his tears. “I- I’m sorry I don’t- I’m okay I just- it’s silly-”

“If you fucking say that one more time-” Izzy started grumbling in front of him, but shut himself up when Ed gave a swift nudge to his leg.

“What Izzy means to say,” Ed rubbed his back again. “Was that it’s not silly, mate. You’re having a bad day.”

Stede nodded, though didn’t look up nor did he speak. He just sipped his drink slowly, let the embarrassment swallow him whole.

It really was shameful, the whole thing. He was a grown man, he shouldn’t have days where he was so out of control of his own emotions — toddlers had days like that, not- not men. If his father could see him he’d be even more disappointed than usual—

His heart was thumping in his chest again; he could feel it as it sped up, drumming loudly and too fast and almost too forcefully—

What made it worse was that it clearly had such an effect on Izzy and Ed, and Stede hated that; hated that Izzy had to calm him down from a panic attack over nothing, that he had to leave work early, that Ed had to worry and make him a drink and lay clothes out for him like a child. He knew, he knew, that they cared — Stede had never felt so cared for in his whole life, he truly felt like it was the first time he had people who saw him. But that didn’t mean he had to make them worry, had to burden them. Their lives couldn’t revolve around him—

He could feel his heartbeat in his head, in his ears, against his rib cage—

Stede just needed to grow up, needed to-

“Stede-”

He flinched when his cup was wrenched from his hands, tea slopped over the side of the mug, and his eyes were wide as he just stared at Izzy, who was just staring back, holding the mug.

“I-” Stede inhaled, his hands started to shake. “I was- I was going to drink it, Iz, I’m sure it’s lovely-”

“You almost dropped it,” Ed supplied from his side. “You just- fuck, man, you were just staring at the floor for a while and then I thought you were gonna fuckin’ pass out on us.”

He looked at Ed — Ed, who was usually so cheery and smiley, who looked almost gaunt with his worry — and at Izzy — Izzy, who had that look on his face again — and Stede had to swallow through the sudden nausea that clenched in his stomach.

He was being too much for them. He didn’t need to bother them.

“I’m sorry, I’m- I’m sorry, loves, I didn’t- didn’t mean to worry you-” Stede breathed, before his bottom lip trembled and he forced out, “I- I can go and stay at Lucius’, he w-won’t mind, I can just-”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Izzy blurted out. “Why would you- do you want to stay there?”

“No!” Stede choked out, his heartbeat quickening again. “No I- I want to be here but I’m just worrying you both because- because my mind is so stupid and won’t work today and I just-”

“Okay, okay, we get it, easy love,” Ed brought his arm around him and tucked Stede into the curve of his side, pressed his lips to the crown of his head. “You aren’t going anywhere, okay? We want you right here.”

Stede sniffled into Ed’s shirt, utterly exhausted. All he had been doing for what felt like the past few hours was just cry, and he wanted to just stop. His eyes squeezed shut, not quite sobbing, but he did huff out through his tears, mumbled, “I’m so tired.”

He felt a hand as it squeezed his knee, and he didn’t even look, knew it was Izzy. His hand dropped down to cover it with his own trembling fingers.

“What’s going on, hm?” Ed was just murmuring against his head, and it felt nice. His breath was something Stede could focus on, felt it as it hit his skin with every word. “Did something happen at work? Shitty customers? I’ll come down there, Stede, and feed them their fucking teeth I swear-”

“No,” Stede let out a quiet wet laugh, shook his head. “No, it’s not… it’s not anything, really.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing.” Izzy grumbled, squeezed his knee again.

“It’s…” Stede sighed, blinked through his tears and looked between the two of them. “It’s hard to explain. I’m sure you don’t want to be bored by my silly little story-”

“Hey,” Izzy squeezed his knee a little harsher than before and Stede jumped, looked up to meet his eyes. “If it’s causing you this much grief it’s not silly, okay? Stop downplaying this shit, Stede. It matters.”

Stede blinked at Izzy, swallowed the lump in his throat, and forced a nod. “Sorry,” he breathed. “I’m just…” he inhaled, unsure how to put it, and gestured between them all. “I’m not used to… to people caring.”

Both Izzy and Ed seemed to deflate, then, and Stede almost wished to take it back… but Ed kissed his temple and Izzy pulled his hand up and kissed his fingers, and maybe he didn’t need to take it back.

“Well we certainly care, so tell us what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.” Ed punctuated his words with another kiss to his head.

Stede looked down at his lap, curled his fingers of his spare hand into the material of his sleeve. “So… um, so, you both know how I can sometimes maybe get… well, how I do get — quite often actually — um, anxious,” he watched as both of them nodded before he continued, “well, sometimes it… it really overwhelms me and it just… it sticks and doesn’t go away and I don’t know what causes it, but I just feel really detached, but at the same time overwhelmed, and- and there’s nothing that helps I just feel… I just feel really shitty.”

There was certainly a lot more that he could have said, explained it better, but from the looks on his partners faces they seemed to get the gist of it.

Stede was expecting one of them to say something, whether it was something good or something bad — realistically he knew that wouldn’t happen, but nothing about his thought process that day had been realistic — so he momentarily froze in shock when Izzy leaned forwards and kissed him. It took him a moment for his body to catch up with his brain and Stede reciprocated, felt a little lighter by the time Izzy pulled away.

“…that was very nice, dear.” Stede whispered, unsure of what to say.

“Stede,” Ed spoke, then, squeezed his side and didn’t continue until he met his eyes. “Nothing about that shit is silly, okay?” His hand cupped Stede’s cheek and he leant into the warmth. “It’s… it’s a lot, fuck man I’d be a mess if I dealt with that, so you’re already doing better than I could have.”

Stede shrugged, eyes dipped down. “It’s not really an appropriate reaction-”

“Hey,” Ed lightly pinched his cheek, startled him into looking back up. “It’s okay, you can’t help any of it, can you?”

Stede shook his head slowly, glancing at at Izzy before back at Ed. “Suppose not.”

“Right,” Ed nodded, stroked beneath his eye with his thumb, before he leaned in to kiss the spot gently. “It’s okay. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

For the first time that day Stede felt like he could finally breathe. He deflated a little, glanced between them again, murmured, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“Apologise again and I’ll chuck this tea over you,” Izzy threatened, and Stede laughed a little, and it felt nice. “You have nothing to be sorry for, just… when it gets like this, you can tell us.”

“Right, yes, you can,” Ed chimed in. “Or if you feel like you can’t say it then you can, I dunno, write us a note. Stick it to the fridge or something, I’ll see it.”

Izzy turned to glare at Ed. “You never read anything on the fridge.”

“Yes I do, thank you very much.”

“What about the shopping list?”

“…handwriting was too small-”

“Or the bills? Or the letter from your mother-”

Funnily enough, it was listening to them bicker that made Stede’s eyes fill with tears again. He just- he had been so frustrated over it, and so overwhelmed by the bulk of his anxiety, and now that they had talked the relief was emotional. He felt loved and cared for, and even if he didn’t feel alright in the slightest, he knew there wasn’t a better place for him.

Their bickering was cut off when Stede threw his arms around both of their shoulders, pulling them all into a hug. It was at a bit of an awkward angle with Izzy on the coffee table, but all of them tucked their arms around one another and they all fit nicely into place.

“I love you both,” Stede choked out softly. “Very, very much. Thank you, loves.”

He felt kisses against his head as their arms tightened around him, and maybe for the first time in his life, Stede truly believed that he might, in the end of it all, be okay.

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comments would mean the world <3 requests are open!

[publicdomainbooks]

THE END OF IT. (2)

He had not gone far, when coming on towards him he beheld the portly gentleman, who had walked into his counting-house the day before, and said, “Scrooge and Marley’s, I believe?” It sent a pang across his heart to think how this old gentleman would look upon him when they met; but he knew what path lay straight before him, and he took it.

“My dear sir,” said Scrooge, quickening his pace, and taking the old gentleman by both his hands. “How do you do? I hope you succeeded yesterday. It was very kind of you. A merry Christmas to you, sir!”

“Mr. Scrooge?”

“Yes,” said Scrooge. “That is my name, and I fear it may not be pleasant to you. Allow me to ask your pardon. And will you have the goodness”—here Scrooge whispered in his ear.

“Lord bless me!” cried the gentleman, as if his breath were taken away. “My dear Mr. Scrooge, are you serious?”

“If you please,” said Scrooge. “Not a farthing less. A great many back-payments are included in it, I assure you. Will you do me that favour?”

“My dear sir,” said the other, shaking hands with him. “I don’t know what to say to such munifi—”

“Don’t say anything, please,” retorted Scrooge. “Come and see me. Will you come and see me?”

“I will!” cried the old gentleman. And it was clear he meant to do it.

“Thank’ee,” said Scrooge. “I am much obliged to you. I thank you fifty times. Bless you!”

He went to church, and walked about the streets, and watched the people hurrying to and fro, and patted children on the head, and questioned beggars, and looked down into the kitchens of houses, and up to the windows, and found that everything could yield him pleasure. He had never dreamed that any walk—that anything—could give him so much happiness. In the afternoon he turned his steps towards his nephew’s house.

He passed the door a dozen times, before he had the courage to go up and knock. But he made a dash, and did it:

“Is your master at home, my dear?” said Scrooge to the girl. Nice girl! Very.

“Yes, sir.”

“Where is he, my love?” said Scrooge.

“He’s in the dining-room, sir, along with mistress. I’ll show you up-stairs, if you please.”

“Thank’ee. He knows me,” said Scrooge, with his hand already on the dining-room lock. “I’ll go in here, my dear.”

He turned it gently, and sidled his face in, round the door. They were looking at the table (which was spread out in great array); for these young housekeepers are always nervous on such points, and like to see that everything is right.

“Fred!” said Scrooge.

Dear heart alive, how his niece by marriage started! Scrooge had forgotten, for the moment, about her sitting in the corner with the footstool, or he wouldn’t have done it, on any account.

“Why bless my soul!” cried Fred, “who’s that?”

“It’s I. Your uncle Scrooge. I have come to dinner. Will you let me in, Fred?”

Let him in! It is a mercy he didn’t shake his arm off. He was at home in five minutes. Nothing could be heartier. His niece looked just the same. So did Topper when he came. So did the plump sister when she came. So did every one when they came. Wonderful party, wonderful games, wonderful unanimity, won-der-ful happiness!

But he was early at the office next morning. Oh, he was early there. If he could only be there first, and catch Bob Cratchit coming late! That was the thing he had set his heart upon.

And he did it; yes, he did! The clock struck nine. No Bob. A quarter past. No Bob. He was full eighteen minutes and a half behind his time. Scrooge sat with his door wide open, that he might see him come into the Tank.

His hat was off, before he opened the door; his comforter too. He was on his stool in a jiffy; driving away with his pen, as if he were trying to overtake nine o’clock.

“Hallo!” growled Scrooge, in his accustomed voice, as near as he could feign it. “What do you mean by coming here at this time of day?”

“I am very sorry, sir,” said Bob. “I am behind my time.”

“You are?” repeated Scrooge. “Yes. I think you are. Step this way, sir, if you please.”

“It’s only once a year, sir,” pleaded Bob, appearing from the Tank. “It shall not be repeated. I was making rather merry yesterday, sir.”

“Now, I’ll tell you what, my friend,” said Scrooge, “I am not going to stand this sort of thing any longer. And therefore,” he continued, leaping from his stool, and giving Bob such a dig in the waistcoat that he staggered back into the Tank again; “and therefore I am about to raise your salary!”

Bob trembled, and got a little nearer to the ruler. He had a momentary idea of knocking Scrooge down with it, holding him, and calling to the people in the court for help and a strait-waistcoat.

“A merry Christmas, Bob!” said Scrooge, with an earnestness that could not be mistaken, as he clapped him on the back. “A merrier Christmas, Bob, my good fellow, than I have given you, for many a year! I’ll raise your salary, and endeavour to assist your struggling family, and we will discuss your affairs this very afternoon, over a Christmas bowl of smoking bishop, Bob! Make up the fires, and buy another coal-scuttle before you dot another i, Bob Cratchit!”

Scrooge was better than his word. He did it all, and infinitely more; and to Tiny Tim, who did not die, he was a second father. He became as good a friend, as good a master, and as good a man, as the good old city knew, or any other good old city, town, or borough, in the good old world. Some people laughed to see the alteration in him, but he let them laugh, and little heeded them; for he was wise enough to know that nothing ever happened on this globe, for good, at which some people did not have their fill of laughter in the outset; and knowing that such as these would be blind anyway, he thought it quite as well that they should wrinkle up their eyes in grins, as have the malady in less attractive forms. His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for him.

He had no further intercourse with Spirits, but lived upon the Total Abstinence Principle, ever afterwards; and it was always said of him, that he knew how to keep Christmas well, if any man alive possessed the knowledge. May that be truly said of us, and all of us! And so, as Tiny Tim observed, God bless Us, Every One!

[ofstoriesandstardust]

same mistakes-verse timeline

the chronological timeline to our beloved same mistakes-verse, along with brief notes of important moments. it’s important to note that the masterlist is laid out in the way you are intended to read it, but this is in chronological order, meant to keep track of the timeline

last updated 04/19/23

light

i need some sleep

rivers and roads

winner takes all

terrors of the night

waving goodbye with an absent minded smile

right here, right now

getaway car

brutal 

Rebel’s time at UCSD and coping with the fact that Bradley left

safe inside

when she loved me

everybody tells me i was born an old soul

my tears ricochet

the early years of Rebel and Rooster’s separation

fortunate son

seven o’clock news/silent night

the christmas Maverick was declared MIA

how do i say goodbye?

on a dime, your whole life can change

will i take it all for granted? (and be leaving empty handed)

best bud, you alright bud?

the progress of Coyote and Rebel’s friendship told over the course of two years (overlaps with the original trilogy)

war is over

the Christmas Rebel spent with Coyote 

and who says love should break us when we fall?

a character study of Rooster na dPheonix’s firendhsiop and how she views Rebel, stemming from the early days in the Navy to the brink of the suicide mission

and that’s when i lost it

Coyote gets his Iraq orders

same mistakes part i

same mistakes part ii

in case you don’t live forever

the in between 

moments of the time between part ii and iii, told by Maverick

the lost moments

same mistakes part iii

for the love of a daughter

a conversation from part iii, told by Maverick 

so long, daisy may

a peak into Rebel’s issues from the beginning

a slice of life

the team learns about The Incident

hiding in the shadows

one thing i like about me (is that i’m nothing like you and i never will be)

The infamous investigation into the Green Vipers

soulmates

of holidays and homesickness

Rebel and Rooster’s first Christmas together

these secrets i keep

Coyote comes out and reveals his relationship with Hangman

fever dream

heart made up on you

don’t blame me

mine

 - the above all take place in the first year and a half-ish after the og trilogy -

and i don’t mind if it’s me you need to turn to

hey brother 

hope ur okay

it's just a tattoo, charlie brown!

it’s a good thing we’re each other’s kind of crazy

the great war

 - takes place around the second year mark after the og trilogy - 

 - the following take place just before and just after the three year mark of the og trilogy -

chasing stars

Rebel decides it’s finally time to address all over trauma and ghosts from her past

until i found you

Late night dancing in the kitchen with Rooster and discussion of the future

dog days

Rebel gets a dog named Buddy.

everything that led to this

second chance part i 

Rebel’s mom reappears and Rooster asks his girlfriend a very important question

my heart is wherever you are

have yourself a merry little Christmas

give me back my girlhood, it was mine first

i hear your s-o-s

and by morning, gone was any trace of you

you’ll lose your faith for a bit and question if she’s you

we could leave the christmas lights up until january

second chance pt. ii

you raise me up

[darlingpetao3]

Thank You For Ruining My Life: An Homage to Tom Cavanagh

“You’ve ruined all my future expectations of men.”

The costume-clad woman had the courage of steel to say this to the then 53-year-old actor, Tom Cavanagh of The Flash, in front of a ballroom filled with a couple hundred people. This brave utterance was spoken during the 2016 Fan Expo Vancouver convention during a Flash question and answer period with actors Tom Cavanagh and Candice Patton. In its third season, the show was undoubtedly still hitting its stride in popularity, and the room was packed to hear these two speak.

The brave woman whose turn it was at the microphone was referring to Tom’s role as Ed Stevens on the NBC 2000 hit, Ed. I had not known of this show previously, but having now heard such a proclamation intrigued me. “You’ve ruined all my future expectations of men.” That was a tempting notion, and as I continued to listen to this disarmingly charming and wittingly funny man steal the stage, Tom intrigued me even more. I’d watched him play three different versions of Harrison Wells on The Flash since the show’s premiere date, yet I hadn’t truly noticed him in a “life-ruining” way before.

Little did I know that Tom Cavanagh would not only eventually ruin my expectations for men as well, but he would change my life in other ways, too.

After the Q&A, I had this urge to buy a S.T.A.R. Labs T-shirt from one of the vendors at the convention. In my head, I thought I would purchase something so that I could have an excuse to talk to Mr. Cavanagh at his signing booth. Again, he intrigued me, and I wanted to experience more of his incredibly likeable personality. So, I dragged my friend with me to wait for what was maybe ten minutes in a queue. Shortly, I was paying the assistant for my autograph I would soon acquire. They wrote my name on a sticky note so that Tom would know how to sign a personalized message to me. And then, it was my turn.

His eyes sparkled when he turned his attention to me. I instantly had a feeling this was just the way he was naturally. Oh yeah, and I swear to God I’d never seen eyes that blue in my entire life. It genuinely stunned me.

“Hi!” he greeted me.

“Hi!” I responded, equally as thrilled. Tom admired the T-shirt I had brought and took note of my name on the piece of paper. I remember us joking together about the extremely lax security in and around S.T.A.R. Labs on the show, which prompted his message to me on the heather-grey cotton. He wrote my name, [followed by a heart!] and a very welcoming, ‘Come on by, just walk right in!’

I had official clearance from Harrison Wells himself.

I thanked him very much, leaving with my treasure folded over my arms. My friend and I walked towards the hall’s exit, and I couldn’t shake this feeling inside me. It felt strange—I couldn’t name it for the life of me. It felt like an odd fluttering with a simultaneous yet contradictory slightness of breath. My head was confused and would continue to be so for the rest of that weekend.

As I waited at my gate in the airport on that Sunday evening to head home, all I knew was that the moments at the con featuring Tom were the highlights of the weekend for me.

And that I was going to begin watching more of the other films and television shows he’d been in. What was the show the brave cosplaying woman had said ruined her expectations of men? Oh yeah, Ed.

Maybe I’ll start there…

***

Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad…

In my house, it’s never really Christmastime until Michael Bublé croons through the speakers of the wooden stereo system in the living room. It felt especially festive as it was now Christmas Eve—a month and some change since the con. It was late, possibly ten o’clock. I was lying on the floor in front of the Christmas tree with my trusty laptop, a word document open. I was writing three holiday-song short stories featuring the new muse in my life, Harrison Wells. I wanted to be able to post them the next day, so my fingers were taptaptapping away.

I had written a handful of things before 2017, most of which had been Marvel-related, under my second, ‘rebirth’ pen name online. I was a little fish among all the grand and fabulous writers on Archive of Our Own, and in many ways, I still feel like that little fish. I was only just learning and feeling out the psyche of the Wells characters. Each one is so different. In my rewatch of the previous seasons of The Flash, I’d taken diligent notes, and as I’d later learn with each following rewatch, I would know them all—what they think, how they talk and behave—like the back of my hand. It was fun to suss out these guys, and I found that I was growing to love the act of writing even more.

One month later, in January, I would post all the stories I’d written thus far on Tumblr. I’d just created an account and, who knows? Maybe I’d get a wider range of readers on here, too.

Might as well give it a shot, right?

***

Wild horses couldn’t keep me from attending Fan Expo Vancouver 2017, especially when the big news dropped. Not only would Tom Cavanagh be attending again, but so would Carlos Valdes, Danielle Panabaker, Candice Patton, and the convention-elusive star of the show himself, Grant Gustin.

Before the moderator for the Flash cast’s Q&A panel could utter the final thanks to the actors at the end of the session, I bounded from my seat and sped down to the photo op booth where the cast would be taking “Team Up” photos with fans. ‘Sped down’ has to be the most appropriate couple of words because I indeed felt like a true Speedster dressed head to toe as the small screen’s adaptation of Jesse Quick, the angsty and brilliant daughter to Harrison Wells turned superhero.

After waiting in a queue that felt like ages, I was next to stand with Team Flash. As I took a step forward, all of the actors’ and actresses’ eyes—the people I spend time with every Tuesday evening—were on me. I heard a familiar voice approve of my costume. It was Danielle.

“Tremendous.”

Grant even joked that he thought for a second Violett Beane, the actress who plays Jesse Quick, had shown up to surprise them. “I was like, what’s Violett doing here?” he said.

I stood in the back row, happily sandwiched between Tom and Carlos. I dared to let my hands rest on their backs, and I couldn’t contain my joy. Shortly after, when I received my near-instant physical photograph of the moment, I saw Tom had pointed at me. In my mind, it felt as if in his gesture, he meant, hey, look at this cool person. Haha. I couldn’t be further from it.

I would go on to further be uncool in public as I later found myself virtually shaking and almost hyperventilating in line for a one-on-one photo op with Tom. The guy dressed as Kid Flash behind me gave me a few encouragements of the “it’ll be okay” variety. As my turn finally arrived, the lovely man of the hour greeted me with a bright smile in recognition of my Reverse Flash T-shirt (I had done a quick change before this photo op because I had worn a Flash T-shirt for a photo with Grant).

“Great shirt!”

The internet comes up with many hilarious and fitting words, but none such so than the term “Cavanarms.” One of the said Cavanarms found its way around my shoulder in such a casual way. My hand rested on his back, and I have told anyone who will listen about how soft his sweater was. What was approximately a five-second interaction will stay with me forever. And to this day, I will always regret how I’m standing beside him in the picture—there’s a distinguishable gap between us. I could have been closer—should have been!—but I like to use the fact that I felt as if I’d combust into flames if I were any closer to the man.

Maybe I’d have another chance to combust later again that day because, believe it or not, this fan hadn’t had enough of seeing Mr. Cavanagh in person. And since he was appearing at the con for this day only, there was no way I was going to squander any opportunities. Besides, there was still one final thing left on my convention docket: the autograph. In my mind, going to get his autograph was an excuse to get to talk to him and simply be in his presence for longer than five seconds. Here, take my money. I’m a sucker, and I’m proud of it. I saved all year for this kind of thing, and Fan Expo has always been my ultimate nerdy Treat Yoself Day.

Plus, this year I came equipped with a question for Tom (something for which I may have prepared a little too far in advance).

“Which of your characters would win in a lawyering battle: Ed or Miles?”

Miles was Tom’s latest character from his newly released project Darrow & Darrow, a fellow lawyer as Ed Stevens (remember, the man who ruins women’s expectations of men?), whom he portrayed almost two decades prior. What I loved about Tom when I got to ask him this was that he was silent for a moment following the question. He was genuinely putting thought into my question. As he pondered, Tom continued to autograph the photo of us together taken mere hours ago.

“Ed. He would wipe the floor with that other guy. Like, Miles is great, but Ed has a rapier-sharp mind, you know?”

I wholeheartedly agreed with his answer and felt relieved inside for some reason. We thanked each other (as politely as two Canadians can) before I left him to pay attention to the next lucky soul in line. I made the mistake of casting my eyes downward at the signed photo.

Tom had signed two little hearts over the I’s in my name. He really needed to stop adding hearts to my things, or I was just going to melt to the floor. In fact, I started to make these strange noises as I tried not to completely maul everyone in front of me while exiting. My friend ushered me as fast as physically possible on our way out of the main hall. One man took one look at me and asked, “Are you okay?”

No.

“Yep!”

The second I made it out of the herd, I broke out into open space. First came the minor hyperventilating. Then came the squealing followed by laughter. Top it off with various fangirlish comments of, “He’s so beautiful!”, “His eyes are so blue!” and “I love him!” and I was probably quite the sight to see (but at a convention, that’s considered normal!). My friend smiled on as she let me express everything that I had to keep inside until I had the right time to expel my emotions. I was on cloud nine. Ten, if at all possible.

The next day would be the con’s final day, which I would attend alone. My friend needed to catch the ferry in order to prepare for her courses the day after. I did a scan of the convention hall one final time in case there was something I missed purchasing. Afterwards, I sat on the cold hard flooring of the convention centre hallway for a bit of a break. I was wiped out. With my phone in hand, I smiled at the messages from this one Tumblr blogger who had been following my posted adventures at the con. I had seen and replied to many of her comments on my stories I’d written thus far, and I enjoyed her matching enthusiasm for Tom and The Flash in general. I felt her to be a kindred spirit. I had no idea then that I was chatting with one of my future best friends, L.

***

I spotted her.

She was wearing an identical shirt to the one I had on—a light grey T-shirt with a sequinned Spider-Man mask in the corner, which around it read, We met on the Web. A giddy me couldn’t wait for the short escalator ride to end. Her back was to me and facing the baggage claim, so here was my chance to surprise her instead.

I towered over my friend, E, and donned a low, authoritative voice.

“Excuse me, Miss, can you come with me?”

She squealed a greeting to me and I returned it as we hugged for the very first time after two and a half years of online friendship. We would still have about two hours to kill until our mutual Tumblr best friend, L, touched down at Chicago’s O’Hare Airport from across the Pond.

Something I noticed was that E and I carried on talking during our wait like it was second nature, that we hung out like this all the time. Whereas when I met L in person for the first time the year previously, our first meeting was that of quiet, delighted shock, unknowing how to react to one another’s physical presence. It almost felt like a fantasy. The closest thing we’d ever gotten to this was visiting over video chats! I’m not sure what each of these different reactions in these separate meetings meant, but what I do know is that I’ve never had such strong female friendships such as these—so full of uplifting support and love for one another. They are the greatest ladies I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

And as a searching L eventually turned the corner to meet us in the Arrivals terminal, I caught sight of her Tom & Grant bandana tied around the handle to her carry-on bag. It was an item she had received in return for helping fund the short film produced in 2018 (I’d bought the ringtone). Seeing the accessory jolted me to remember that the former of the titular short was the reason for this long-awaited get-together holiday in the Windy City in the first place. Tom Cavanagh, unbeknownst to him, had just officially united three online friends, each from a different country, to spend six full days of in-person bonding and a whole lot of fun.

***

I should have been shelving books.

I should have been doing a lot of library-related tasks, but my head was elsewhere. Anywhere other than the small-town public library where I work. Instead, I sat on the carpeted floor of the Junior/Young Adult section with my phone in hand and a dreadful article title staring back at me.

“The Flash: Carlos Valdes and Tom Cavanagh to Exit after 7 Seasons.”

My world felt like it was falling apart.

Tom was leaving? There had been rumours and wonderings spreading around the fandom regarding whether he was leaving the show. With a storyline ending with a monumental sacrifice and a time-travelling man saying his farewells, it all seemed to point to the fact. I should have known… I could have rivalled Supergirl as being the Paragon of Hope after all the optimism I doled out to my followers and friends who would come to me worried Tom would exit the show. I would always give reasons to deny such a thing could happen, claiming that I’d believe when I saw it.

Well, there it was, and I definitely saw it.

One could feel the ripple effect over the internet of the shards of broken and riled-up hearts around the world.

Tom’s exit was on his terms, having not felt challenged by his character’s plotlines, as mentioned in a recent Entertainment Weekly article. As a viewer—and I am a viewer (Mike and Tom Eat Snacks, anyone?), it has been increasingly difficult to look past the missed shots made by story editors and showrunner, so understandably, the actor would want to seek something more exciting and meatier. That said, Tom has always shone on-screen and taken what he’s been given in stride. He turns unearthed material into diamonds and indeed shines on screen. Steals it, even! Tom easily makes the episodes he’s in better, and when he’s missing, you feel the loss. The few episodes of Season 7 without him only give us a tiny hint at how the show will be without him going forward. It much resembles when you might bring out your favourite jigsaw puzzle, only to find that the one piece you need to complete it isn’t there.

***

On a personal note, as I write this, I am roughly 20 followers away from reaching a milestone of 2,000. I have written well over 200 stories for The Flash alone (whether they be short or long, one-shots or chaptered), and goodness knows how many words I’ve generated altogether over the course of these many years with inspiration from the show and my favourite character. I’ve written and co-written novel-length stories, one monumental Wellsian story of which was done alongside L and E (almost solely done through alternating text messaging in the app, Line) that reached over 108,000 words and consisted of 42 chapters. And when I’m not writing for my blog, I’m also working on trying to accomplish my dream of becoming a published author. Just as I thought before I launched my Tumblr blog, I think again now: Might as well give it a shot, right?

***

I have watched virtually everything Tom has been in that I could get my hands on, both physically and electronically. Sure, a few titles are out of my reach and probably lost to the very early 90's forever, but from what I've seen through Tom's filmography is enough to know that he can do anything. He can play the romantic leading man that will make you fall head over heels for him or a deranged killer that will have you genuinely scared of him. That is talent. Tom always brings something new to the table from each role to the next, and (when he's not playing those psycho killers) you can't help but admire his craft.

Not only is his acting stellar, but from what we as fans have gathered on the man, Tom has got to be one of the kindest men in the business. His humour and sheer ridiculousness could get anyone through a tough time (we’ve seen plenty of bloopers and behind-the-scenes videos to prove this!). He has clearly bottled and stored an endless supply of Fountain of Youth™ and each year continues to wow us with his handsomeness. Tom is charming, dedicated, and yes, arguably holds the world record for Bluest Eyes.

In my eyes, Tom Cavanagh gave me the two best friends I could have ever asked for, as well as plenty more lovely friends I’ve continued to make online. (One day, I hope to meet him again so that I can tell him in person how because of him, I’ve met such very important people in my life). Through Tom, I have truly found my passion for writing, and in doing so, segued me to dare to dream of becoming a published novelist. I wholeheartedly believe all of this would not have happened if it weren’t for those first series of events that led me to meet Tom and love and admire him immensely. He is indisputable proof that there are indeed men like him out there. Indeed, he did ruin all of my future expectations of men. He ruined my life in the absolute best way and I am eternally grateful.

I am very much looking forward to what Tom will do next. I think it’s rather needless to say that I will follow him in his career, as he has gained a devoted fan for life. He represents so much to me and so much of it I have gained since meeting him that fateful day, when I thought to myself, Maybe I should buy this T-shirt and get this guy to sign it. Wherever Tom goes in life, I’ll be here to cheer him on.

I have a pretty good feeling plenty of others will, too.

[easily-infatuated23]

The Tub: Draco Malfoy x Reader

a/n: this is my first one of these so sorry if it sucks but here goes nothing!

Part Two Here

warnings: just some light fluff, small mention of bullying

summary: reader is having a really hard day and when she goes to relax in the prefects bathroom the unexpected occurs 

word count: 2k

The castle is enormous. So enormous that getting lost becomes part of my daily routine. But sometimes, its so crushingly small it's hard to find a place to be alone to get away from the constant noise of what feels like hundreds of middle and high school students. Everyone’s first choice of escape is the astronomy tower, so much so that a Ravenclaw tried to institute a sign up sheet as to insure the crowds wouldn’t mass as much. They were unsuccessful. The truly hidden places of the castle are few and far between and for those of us who aren’t lucky enough to find the Room of Requirement, we must get creative. The most recent spot I have found is the Prefect’s bathroom on the sixth floor. Moaning Myrtle will sometimes float through but we are on good terms so she generally will leave me alone.

As a Seer, the noise of the world is extra loud in my head. It's bad enough to have the regular noise, but the passing through of others’ thoughts is exhausting. I have gotten better at shielding myself but it takes a lot of energy. The Prefect’s bathroom has been a wonderful solution because within the chamber is a large bathtub which I use as a jacuzzi, to relax and reset. I am just so tired. The added layer of being Seer as well as a non pure-blood in Slytherin, takes its own individual toll. My family had been pure-blood until my parents. My mother had married a muggle man.

I started late in the sequence of years at Hogwarts. My family moved from America to England which meant I transferred into school third year. For a while people were interested in me but that died down within the first month. However, when I let my family heritage slip, I became as talked about as Harry Potter. As a descendant of Merlin himself, people began to attempt to get close to me just for the idea of “fame” rubbing off onto them. Harry and I have had discussions about it together but I know he secretly enjoys it, even if he doesn’t know he does.

Today wasn’t just any typical Thursday. The excitement for Christmas break was buzzing around the castle, practically inescapable. The world was loud and I was tired. Luckily, today is a short day so I was able to escape to the Prefect’s bathroom after lunch. I usually waited until I knew most of the castle was either at a meal or doing homework but today the world had been especially loud. I tentatively filled the tub checking my surroundings for a stray ghost or student. Once it was full I climbed in and allowed myself to fully relax. The noise melted away and it was like I could finally breathe.

After only fifteen short minutes I heard footsteps and looked up to see the last person I would expect or want to see, Draco Malfoy. The Prince of pure-blood Slytherin, the cruelest person within the castle besides Professor Snape. He had never gone out of his way to be mean to me in particular, but if one of his buddies started something he would be sure to join in. When people found out about my abilities, I had been forced to read him in front of practically the whole school. I saw such pain and fear in his life that I nearly passed out. To prove to him that my abilities were real, he told me to tell him something from his past only he would know. I said “a talking diary and a ripped page from a bookstore”. Ever since then, he never challenged me again. And yet here he was now, invading my hidden corner, my escape from everyone.

We locked eyes as he walked in and we both froze. “What are you doing in here?” he asked sharply. I didn’t reply but simply began to get out and grab my things when his voice interrupted my actions. “I’m not gonna make you leave I was just asking. You looked dreadful during Potions today, are you ok?”. For the first time, his words and his tone matched and seemed genuine. “Everyone has been really loud today. Let's just say that if I never hear the sentence ‘is he gonna ask me to the Yule Ball’ again it will be too soon” I remarked. He chuckled and looked down at his shoes. I now became acutely aware of the fact that I was standing in front of him in just a bikini in a steamy room. My cheeks flushed and I slipped back into the tub. “Why are you in here Draco?” I asked. He looked up at me and sighed. “This is usually where I come to hide but I got here a bit later than usual, I didn’t think there was competition for this spot”. I frowned and looked away from him. “Yeah that’s my bad, I usually am in here much later in the day. It’s just been such a loud day already. I needed to decompress earlier than usual”. He walked closer to me, then circled the tub to sit on the window sill. After a few minutes he spoke. “Does it actually help quiet the world? To sit in there I mean”. He gestured to the tub. “Yes it does actually”. I replied.

This was the weirdest but nicest conversation I had ever had with him. I had never been fully alone with Draco before, was this how he was when he was removed from his asshole friends? In a moment of impulsive thought I blurted “You are welcome to join me if you’d like”. Shit. Why did I say that? This guy is literally the worst. “Wouldn’t that just add noise in your head?” he asked. “No, when its a group of ten or less I can actually turn everybody off quite easily. Anymore then that and it gets harder and harder”. He nodded and then looked out the window. I could see his mind working through his grey eyes, deciding if he would stay or go. Finally, he shrugged. “What the hell”. He kicked his shoes off and began to loosen his tie. I wanted to look away but I couldn’t help myself watch him undress. I finally looked away and closed my eyes, relaxing my head on the edge of the tub.

The tub was big enough around that he could sit on the other side and we wouldn’t touch. The water churned as he got it. He sat closer to me than I had anticipated but I tried not to think about it as I took a deep breath and let my mind wander. “This is surprisingly relaxing”. His voice for the first time didn’t sound as strained or coarse as normal. “How did you find out about this?” he asked. I opened my eyes and looked at him, puzzled. “Have you never been in a jacuzzi?”. He shook his head. “Wow well that’s one thing wizards should definitely adopt from the muggle world” I replied, with a smile. He looked away from me quickly. Was that a hint of blush coming from his cheeks? Probably just from the heat of the water I rationalized. “Do you do this everyday?” he asked. “At least once a week. It's good for the soul”.

There was then a long period of silence. At first the silence was uncomfortable, but the longer it persisted, the more comfortable it became. A couple times I could have sworn that the water churned in a way that would indicate him moving closer to me. I didn’t dare check. I kept my eyes closed as the odd smile would flow across my face without thought. When I finally did open my eyes, he was less than two feet away from me. We locked eyes and I smiled. He gave a timid smile back before looking away again. I wanted to use my abilities to slip into his mind and hear what he was thinking but I held myself to a strict rule. “This seems like a pretty necessary time to use it” the voice in my head remarked. I physically shook my head to expel that thought from my mind. I felt his eyes on me. “I wasn’t inside your head by the way. I thought about it but decided that didn’t hold up with my rule so I shook it out of my head”. “You can if you want” he replied. I looked at him and sat up a bit. “My rule is I only purposefully do it if absolutely necessary or if the person gives me permission or asks me to do it. Are you asking me Draco?”.

The words flowed out of my mouth before I could filter them. Was that flirty? Did I just flirt with Draco? The thoughts swirled in my head only to be broken by his response. “Yes I am” he said sincerely. “Can I have your hand? It’s easier if I have physical contact”. I said. He nodded  and stared into my eyes as I moved closer to him. I clasped his hand and imagined his energy and thoughts flowing into my brain. His head was relatively quiet, besides one thought practically screaming. I opened my eyes and looked into his, stunned. “What was I thinking?” he asked in almost a whisper. I swallowed hard. “You were thinking ‘is it wrong that all I want to do is kiss her’”. I felt my cheeks turn red but I didn’t break eye contact. “Is it?” he asked. “No” I replied, unaware that a smile had crept across my face. He smiled back as his eyes darted from my eyes to my lips and back. I moved his hand which I was still holding to my cheek. His free hand moved underwater to my lower back as he pulled me onto his lap. Our faces were so close together I could feel his breath. He moved his other hand to my waist as I cupped his cheeks with mine. In a tender moment, not overly embroiled with passion or lust, we kissed. It was innocent and sweet. It made everything else seem unimportant. It was as if time slowed to a stand still. After a few moments we both pulled away and shared a smile that became a laugh. “I can honestly say this is not how I thought my day was going to go” Draco chuckled. “Me neither” I added. Suddenly a thought popped into my head. “Wait what time is it?” I asked. He checked his watch. “Two o’clock, why?”. “Damn, I promised I would meet Ron for a game of wizard’s chess. I always beat him but he insists on constantly challenging me”. I started to pull away when I noticed his face drop slightly. I pulled close to him again. “I am not making up an excuse to run away from you. Believe me I don’t want to go but if I don’t Ron will come looking for me and this would be a hard situation to explain” I remarked with a chuckle. His face picked up a little. “Are you staying here over Christmas?”. “Yes I am” I replied. “I think I will too, I’ve recently started to fancy you and I kinda want to explore this without the pressure of the whole school being here, if that’s ok with you” he smiled. “I would like that”. “But for the moment we can’t tell anyone what happened here or that we are even friends” he remarked suddenly. “It’s not my favorite reputation to uphold but if my father finds out I am seeing or being seen with someone who is not a pure-blood..” he trailed off. I pulled his face close to mine again and looked deep into his eyes. “You don’t have to explain. Remember, when I read you two years ago? I saw all of your past. I understand why”. His eyes were sadder now but he still managed a small smile. “Ok now I really have to go” I said as I kissed him one more time before climbing out of the tub. He watched me as I changed back into my uniform, smiling a bit more smugly now. “When can I see you again?” he called after me as I walked towards the door. “Friday night, let’s meet in the common room. Everyone will be gone for Christmas by then”. “Its a date!”. I turned back and blew him a kiss which he caught and immediately pressed to his lips. My heart fluttered as I jogged to the Great Hall. “Oi, where’ve you been?” Ron questioned impatiently. “Sorry, got a bit caught up” I remarked, smiling at the secret Draco Malfoy and I now shared.

[joyful-soul-collector]

🎉Week 3: December 23-31🎉

Ten o’Clock Wake Up Call by @skeeter-110​ (Pt. 10 of Twelve Days of Christmas)

Summary: It's Christmas morning in the Stark-Rhodes' household.

Relationships/Tropes: Ironhusbands, Irondad, Papa Rhodey, Avengers Family, Kid Peter, Christmas

Review:  I loved the big snuggle pile at the end, and how excited Peter was for his dads to open their presents! It showed how even as a little kid, Peter's always cared more about others than he has himself

🎉

Eleven Laps Around The Rink by @skeeter-110​ (Pt. 11 of Twelve Days of Christmas)

Summary: The Stark-Rhodes family goes ice skating with the Avengers

Relationships/Tropes: Ironhusbands, Irondad, Papa Rhodey, Avengers Family, Kid Peter, Ice Skating

Review: I loved how this showed Peter learning to skate, going from holding his parents hands, to skating from Tony to Rhodey, and finally to skating all on his own! Very cute

🎉

Twelve New Months To Look Forward To by @skeeter-110​ (Pt. 12 of Twelve Days of Christmas)

Summary: The Stark-Rhodes' family celebrates the new year.

Relationships/Tropes:  Ironhusbands, Irondad, Papa Rhodey, Kid Peter, New Years Eve

Review: A perfect ending to the sweetest holiday series! It was soft and loving and I'm so happy to have read about this happy little family :D

🎉

The Way I Love You ch. 3 by @littlemissagrafina

Summary: Peter Parker had a vibrant, happy presence. Anytime that he was around became brighter, happier. It was just the way it was. He was always moving, talking, just living, so when the lightness that his loved ones were so accustomed to seeing started fading, it scared them. A still silence built itself around Peter, snuffing out his usual exuberant voice. Dark and stifling. Those around him could only hope it wouldn't consume him. That it wouldn't take his smile. 

Or 

Five times that someone see's Peter struggling and one time he calls for help.

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Uncle Ben & Peter Parker, Aunt May & Peter Parker, Spideychelle, Depressed Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort

Review: This story really shows how sometimes the best way to help someone who's depressed or just having a bad day is to do something small to make things a little easier for them. You often can't get rid of all their worries through a deep heart-to-heart and you certainly can protect them from everything yourself, but doing something small can make a bigger difference than you think

🎉

Peter hides an injury prompt by @jen27ny

Summary: Peter, who already downplays every injury, takes the hint too close and hides a serious injury, and the Avengers learn the hard way why Tony really fusses every time he got hurt

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Avengers Family, Hiding an Injury, Crackfic

Review: Peter hiding his injuries is one of my favorite tropes, and this story did it really well! I love how protective everyone was of Peter by the end, and how they realized Tony wasn't exaggerating when he said they had to make absolutely sure Peter was fine haha

🎉

Peter has ADHD prompt by @jen27ny

Summary: Peter’s ADHD starts to affect his grades

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Peter Parker Has ADHD

Review: This story was so sweet! I myself have ADHD so I love stories about Peter with ADHD and this one was great! I relate to Peter in that I sucked at Spanish, I've always dreaded going to that class haha. Very nice story!

🎉

The Perfect Name by @honestmischief

Summary: Rhodey and Tony are drunk and in love

Relationships/Tropes: Ironhusbands, Drunk

Review: This ficlet was adorable! I loved how affectionate Tony and Rhodey were with each other, and how Rhodey said Tony was "too cute to be sad", it was so cute

🎉

Christmas Pranks by @skeeter-110

Summary: Tony wraps up random things for little Peter to open while Steve records it all

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Stony, Papa Steve, Christmas, Pranks, Kid Peter

Review:  THIS WAS SO ADORABLE! I can't get enough of Cute Kid Peter, and this had to have been Cute Kid Peter overload honestly, I think I got cavities from the amount of fluff in this little drabble. Very worth it, excuse me, I have a trip to the dentist I need to make

🎉

Peter Calls Tony Dad (B99 Style) by @jen27ny

Summary: Pretty much exactly what the title says

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Avengers Family, Peter Calls Tony Dad

Review: This story was HILARIOUS, I loved that moment in B99, and this fic emulated the silliness and teasing perfectly, and the bit about them going to fix the video game was great! I loved this!

🎉

santa, come again by @jean-and-diet-coke

Summary: Christmas morning with the Starks!

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Rhodey & Tony, Rhodey & Peter, Bio Dad Tony, Christmas

Review:  This story was super adorable! I loved seeing how affectionate the three of them were with each other, and the softness of the story was perfect for the christmas season! I loved seeing both Tony and Rhodey be so gentle with Peter, and Peter being a sweet babbly child in return!

🎉

“Aces come out of the deck” by Miss__Red 

Summary: “I’m ace,“ he blurred out, avoiding to look at Wade and staring down on his plate instead. “I’m sorry, if that’s a deal breaker for you and you wanna leave that’s okay, I understand,” Peter said quietly.

Or the one where Peter tells Wade he’s asexual and Wade is not reacting like Peter thought he would

Relationships/Tropes: Spideypool, Asexual Peter Parker, Pansexual Wade Wilson, Coming Out, Soft Wade Wilson

Review: This story was so so nice to read, actually made me cry a little. I love stories where characters are accepting of someone's asexuality and this is definitely added to one of my favorites. Super cute and super sweet

🎉

“My Own ‘Spidey Sense’ Was Tingling” by @baloobird (Pt. 2 of The New Normal)

Summary: It has been a year since Peter Parker was diagnosed with Pediatric Multiple Sclerosis and he—like everyone with this disease—has to get an MRI scan done every year so the doctors can monitor his condition.

The scan itself is tedious but he’s used to it, it’s not his first one by any means. Peter knows what to expect, how loud it’ll be, how long it takes.

But this is the first scan where he’ll be completely by himself.

(Might be best to read the first story before this one)

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Uncle Happy, Sickfic, Chronic Illness, Neurological Disorders

Review:  Another great story about MS by @baloobird! This story was really well written, and I liked how Peter's anxiety over the MRI scan was shown and described, and I loved seeing Peter's thoughts about everything that happened! Very sweet story :D

🎉

50 Christmas Ornaments My True Love Gave To Me by @joyful-soul-collector (Pt. 10 of Irondad Oneshots)

Summary: It was Christmastime in the Stark-Rhodes-Potts’ household, with Tony, Rhodey, Pepper, Peter, and Morgan all sitting at the table. Jingle Bells was playing quietly in the background, and each one of them was working on decorating a clear plastic christmas bauble, a growing pile of colorful ornaments in the center of the table.

OR

The Iron Family gets carried away making Christmas ornaments, and Peter talks to his dad about asexuality

Relationships/Tropes: Irondad, Papa Rhodey, Mom Pepper, Peter & Morgan, Pepperhony (Pepper/Rhodey/Tony), Christmas, Asexual Peter Parker, Asexual Tony Stark, Bisexual Pepper Potts, Pansexual James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Polyamorous Relationship

Review: Yes, this is my own fic and I’m recommending it because I like it, and I worked hard on it haha. Anyway I like the amount of representation I put in this one, I remember starting this and being like “should I have Tony with Pepper or Rhodey?” and then decided fuck it, why not both? Both is good :D

🎉

If you look at any these stories, be sure to show the author your appreciation with a comment/kudos/reblog where applicable!

Click here for more fanfic rec lists!

[spacesnail3000]

Let It Snow - Chapter 1/4: Oh The Weather Outside Is Frightful

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: She was his Omega, and Steve had a plan. She would love him. He knew she would.

Word Count: 4,049

Warnings: Dark!Steve Rogers, stalking, ABO dynamics, mating cycles/heat, noncon and dubcon, very explicit sexual content in future chapters (18+ ONLY)

A/N: Remember when I said I had an ABO one-shot planned and it was gonna be really filthy? Remember when I said that I would have it out before Christmas? Well it took me like three weeks but I did it and I basically piled all my kinks into one story hahahah sorry guys. 

Here is the first installment of this new story!

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

X

She hadn’t wanted to go—not that day, not on a Friday, not with all this snow. There were a few other reasons that she was too shy to tell him about, but Steve knew. He knew everything about her.

Compared to when they left the city, the snow was coming down heavy when they finally reached the cabin an hour away from Lake Placid. Steve’s speeding had cut the six-hour drive into three, and throughout the entire trip he had feigned ignorance of her white-knuckles on the door handle, the sound of her racing heart, the blood draining from her face as he took sharp mountain turns at fifty miles per hour. 

He had insisted on the whole thing, really.

“Steve, it’s just a really inconvenient time.”

“I know, but it’s the only day I have available until after January. I need you to see the inside so you can choose some furniture.”

“That can wait, Steve—"

“And I was really hoping to have the plans for the backyard done by next weekend so we can start arranging it with the landscaper. I have an appointment with him in two weeks.”

She sighed, heavy. Long fingers plucked her reading glasses from her face and they fell with a clatter against her desk. “I already have so much to plan for the barracks Tony wants to add to the compound.”

He mimicked her sigh, laced with just a hint of annoyance. “Well… If you can’t help me out I suppose I could hire someone else, but you’re really the only person who knows what I like and need.”

Steve hit his mark, her face crumpling with guilt. “It’s just so far away.” A thumb pressed against the bridge of her nose and her eyes fluttered closed, long lashes brushing her cheekbones. “It’s six hours, Steve.”

“Then we’ll leave early,” he said simply. “Seven o’clock? You know how fast I drive. We’d be back by evening.” When she still seemed unconvinced, he kneeled down in front of her and took her hand in his, locking her gaze to him with the earnest expression in his vibrant blue eyes. “Please? You’ve got me on my knees. I’m begging now.” A hint of a smile flashed across her face and he continued. “Are you happy? The woman to topple Captain America—and it’s his architect. Please? How much more do I have to beg?”

By the time he finished, the teasing lilt to his tone had gotten to her, and she was giggling and trying to pull away. “Fine!” she finally cried and her hands slipped from his as she got to her feet, pacing away from him and his intense gaze, trying to put more space between them in her small office.

“You’ll go?” he asked brightly, turning to face her.

“Fine, I’ll go,” she acquiesced. Then she pointed at him with a lilac-painted fingernail. “But you owe me, Rogers.”

He saluted her. “Yes, ma’am.”

X

It had taken months, but he had planned everything perfectly—he hoped. He was a master tactician, could formulate and revise logistical plans blindfolded. Each component was perfectly laid out, his strategy flawless. He had a backup plan, and a backup plan to his backup plan, and potential solutions to every possible contingency. The espionage he had undertaken, the careful preparation of the day before them—it had been in the works since the previous spring, but it would be worth it.

He had met Tony’s personal architect first when she was planning out the additions to the Avenger’s Compound. She was responsible for most of the new buildings, and as they had been built, he had seen more and more of her as she oversaw the construction. Immediately he had been drawn to her—kind, competent, certainly adept at overseeing architectural projects, but with a docile streak running through her.

When he had introduced himself, she had looked down, respectfully avoiding his eyes, giving a polite smile, shaking his hand with a delicate grip. The scent coming off of her was delectable, sweet and fresh, earthy and cozy, something distinctly homey.

Out of all the women Steve had ever met, the perfect Omega for him showed up at just the right time.

Then the third time he had seen her, there was something more. Something a little heady, something rich in her scent. Of course, he recognized it at once. She had looked a little tired, a little flushed, and her hand was so warm when he shook it. When he had run his thumb along her knuckles and his index finger up across the inside of her wrist, he had felt the fluttering of her radial pulse, more rapid than usual, and that’s when he realized that her heat was coming on and he had barely restrained himself from taking her right there.

He didn’t, of course, nor did he say anything to her about the change in her scent or the way her body was preparing to be bred.

Next time he saw her, a week later, he had simply smiled and asked, “How do you feel?”

She had looked at him with a tilt of her head, a nervous smile, but he moved on before she could respond and asked her if the materials and support structure of the training facilities would hold up against a team of superheroes.

X

It took time, but they became acquainted more and more. She was almost always on the grounds, overseeing building, or meeting with Tony about new plans. She made him feel at home, but frustratingly, their relationship remained professional at all times, one-sided, even. It was as if he didn’t affect her the same way she affected him, her scent wrapping around him every time he was in her vicinity like smoky tendrils, a homemade meal, custom-made just for him.

But he knew, in his heart, that she would feel the same about him, if she just gave him a chance.

Then he overheard Natasha asking about any potential significant others in her life, and she replied that she doesn’t date while she’s working on big projects.

Steve didn’t want to admit his initial anger at that, the hurt deep inside his heart, as if it was a personal rejection of him. For a few days afterwards, he had even ignored her, avoiding running his routes around the new constructions, turning away every time he saw her in the meeting rooms or cafeteria. Then, he came up with a plan.

That was all over a year ago.

The first step of Steve’s plan was to hire her to plan and build a house for him in the Adirondacks. A hefty investment, sure, but one that would be worth it in the end. At the very least, it ensured that she remained single, off the market to any other Alphas threatening to swoop up a beautiful sweet little Omega like her.

Now, more than six months after he approached her with the initial proposal, the house was almost completed. It had provided more than enough time for Steve to get to know her. Bringing her breakfast or lunch during their scheduled planning meetings, finding out all of her tastes and preferences as they went through the process. He deferred to her judgement on the house more often than not.

“What would you do? I can’t decide on an open or closed floor concept. I don’t know enough about this stuff.”

She had flourished under his gentle praise and request for guidance. It certainly helped that every time he praised her, he sensed her getting warmer, her heartrate increasing.

“This is perfect. This plan looks so great. You’re so good at this.”

Every shy smile and mumble of thanks was his undoing. 

Like a flower growing throughout the sudden appearance of spring, she had opened up to him, telling him about her friends, her family, her interests, her hobbies. Gradually, she let him into her life—only ever as friends, not anything more, but the promise was there. Once, he had asked her out to dinner, but she had declined and explained to him, an apology on her lips, that she doesn’t date clients, and she doesn’t date during projects.

“Then I guess I’ll have to ask again once the house is done and I’m not your client anymore, won’t I?”

Oh, he loved how flustered she got.

X

It was easier to get into her house than into her mind or soul—of course, it helped that she worked from home, a little brownstone in Brooklyn.

When he had complimented the house, she mentioned it was her childhood home, renovated recently once she took ownership. Raised in Brooklyn, as if she couldn’t be more perfect for Steve.

It didn’t take much to break into the house when she was out—off overseeing construction of the cabin, or getting groceries, or going for a run. When he visited her for their appointments, he usually only saw the front entrance and the hall leading to her home office. When he got the chance to be in the house unhindered, he thoroughly explored the entire place.

Mediterranean-themed interior décor, which she had done all by herself. Beige and cream color palate with bright pops of color, teals and yellows and vibrant green house plants everywhere. A slight coastal theme, bright and airy and still so cozy.

The kitchen, everything immaculate. She liked to cook and bake, and she had countless tools and appliances for it. One time, she had given him a taste of her homemade almond cookies, nutty and sweet, crystalized almonds on top that melted in his mouth.

Most of the living room was commanded by a cozy sectional sofa with soft cream blankets and more throw pillows than he could count. A vase full of lavender flowers, a few candles with wooden wicks. Vintage sconces and a restored fireplace. A grey cat laid on the back of the sofa, blinking up at him disinterestedly. Still, it let Steve pet it, a few brisk strokes behind the ears and it was purring.

The bedroom smelled like her. It was so potent, he almost blacked out with how quickly the blood rushed to his cock. She had scent diffusers downstairs, but upstairs, her scent permeated the air, the linens, the walls.

He bent before her bed and sniffed the scent on her pillow. She hadn’t made the bed that morning—she had to be in the mountains by noon to receive updates from the construction manager, and it clearly hadn’t crossed her mind in the rush.

Steve appreciated it, as the sheets still had a slight hint of that sleepy Omega smell. There was a duvet and at least five fluffy blankets, along with a handful of feather pillows scattered across the bed. He inspected each blanket and pillow, their different designs and fabrics and pillowcases. He found one pillow tucked underneath the duvet, twisted around, a hint of that heady scent wafting up towards Steve.

He brought the pillow to his face, breathing in deeper, scenting her arousal concentrated in one part in particular. It was still a little damp and he could only imagine her rubbing her slick pussy against the soft silk pillowcase until she came, crying out, clutching the makings of the nest around her, cozy and warm and so, so domestic—sweet little Omega, yearning for an Alpha to take care of her—

It took all his concentration to not come in his pants right there.

After taking care of the aching problem in his trousers, Steve explored her bathroom, looking individually at each toiletry and makeup product strewn across her vanity. 

All of her food, her cleaning supplies, her cosmetics—everything in her home was natural, organic, and eco-friendly. She had mentioned once that she tried to be environmentally conscious, and he could see it manifested everywhere in her life. Steve liked that about her—it reminded him of a simpler time, before plastic covered the entire planet, before mass production of pointless garbage littered everyone’s lives.

He suspected that had something to do with her not being on suppressants, either—which he confirmed over some months based how potent her scent seemed to be and how it changed in depth and tone over her cycle.

Not until his third walkthrough of her house alone—she was out with a friend doing yoga and getting coffee, a Saturday morning ritual for her—did he see the calendar. It was pinned to the wall next to her bed, each month with different pastries as the cover photo. There, in blue pen, from the 12th to the 16th, five little H’s marked in the corner of each date.

He knew it must signify her heat. And he knew she wasn’t on suppressants, that she had heats before—and looking back through her calendar, her heats were very regular, every month on the dot. But now he knew, now he had a way to find out when her monthly mating period would begin, when she would be ripe for his taking.

Another piece of his plan fell into place.

Designing the outline of the cabin took less than a month and from that point until the end of construction, five months, Steve took a great effort to get to know her more. 

He would bring her treats to their meetings; scones, cookies, coffee. Often, he would try to schedule the appointments for midday, if only to have the opportunity with each meeting to ask her for lunch after they had finished discussing all their business. 

She showed him so much of Brooklyn that he didn’t realize had changed, and he showed her a few places that hadn’t, since the war. 

Sometimes she would dress up for him. Instead of dress pants and blazers, she would wear long skirts and dresses that accentuated her curves—not too sexy, though; sweet, but still modest. Although he loved when she wore pink lipstick—simple and elegant—she would sometimes don darker shades, deep reds and purples, and he had to admit it made his Alpha rumble inside.

By the time the house was built, it was only November. Tony contracted her to build a new barracks near the compound, and Steve was running out of time. The perfect circumstances never arose. He had asked her on dates, but she was too busy, out of town for most of December for a conference and then for the holidays, always declining his advances with a soft smile and regretful apology. 

Time passed into the New Year and Steve still hadn’t claimed her heart.

Steve needed some kind of excuse to keep her in his life. He was getting desperate.

When he had asked her to do the interior decorating for his new house, she blanched. 

“I’m not much of an interior decorator, Steve.” It had taken months to get her to call him Steve instead of Captain Rogers. It was necessary for the progression of their relationship although Steve’s cock twitched every time she used his formal title.

“I like the way your house is decorated. Can’t you do something like that for me?” The look of sweet hope on his face was too overbearing, she had to look away.

“You haven’t even seen the rest of my house. Only the office.”

“Then why don’t you show me?” 

Of course, he had already seen the entire house—many times, in fact. Still, he let her give him a full tour of the house, and at the end, he asked her again to do the decorating for his house. Mercifully, she accepted.

X

Her next heat was coming up—he knew based on her calendar and her delectable scent. It was scheduled over the long weekend, and much to Steve’s delight, there was also a blizzard coming their way for the exact same dates, the middle of January and the peak of winter providing the perfect conditions for his plot. 

Getting her to agree to the journey up to the Adirondacks was easier than he had anticipated; the guilt-trip worked wonders on her, his submissive, sweet Omega. 

He had picked her up early that morning, his big truck parked illegally in front of her brownstone as he knocked on the door and waited for her, coffee and pastries in hand to gain her favor.

When she opened the door, she looked perfect, dressed in a collared white dress and black tights, classy and beautiful, skin vibrant with that pre-heat glow, lips painted a berry pink. 

“Hi, Steve,” she breathed, clearly having rushed downstairs for the door. Her scent wafted through the house and out the door, burying him in her sweet scent, more woodsy than usual with her impending heat. “Let me just get my shoes and a jacket. Oh—is that for me?” Her eyes zeroed in on the coffee.

He nodded, handing it to her. “Got your usual.”

She sipped from the cup and let out a contented sigh, perfect pink tongue darting out to lick a droplet from her upper lip. Steve didn’t know how he managed to contain himself. “Perfect. Thank you, Steve. Just give me a minute—oh—come on in. I won’t be long.” She came back downstairs minutes later in pointy heels and a peacoat, and she was ready to go.

The truck was lifted rather high off the ground, necessary for off-roading in the Adirondacks, so she always needed a little boost, and he helped her this time with his hands on her hips, lower than he would usually place them. From the breathless smile she gave him before he closed the passenger side door, she didn’t seem to mind.

Throughout the car ride up to the cabin, she was tense and stiff; whether it was due to his speeding or her heat, Steve wasn’t sure. However, he could smell her scent growing heavier by the minute, and he made sure to crank the heat up in the car to amplify it. He was rock hard in his pants the entire way, but she had been distracted from that by his reckless driving and the snow coming down from the sky. 

He had lost count of the number of times she asked him to slow down, only to be silenced when he pointed out that he would have to drive fast if she wanted to be back in the city by nightfall. 

“It’s snowing pretty hard.” Her voice was soft as she looked out the window at the ice piling up on the side of the road. It was almost whiting out the windshield, and Steve would have been worried about driving in this weather if Tony hadn’t decked out the truck with plenty of enhancements, to include chains on the wheels and sensors to enhance navigation in dangerous conditions.

“We’re almost there, sweetheart,” he said, keeping his tone casual, unconcerned. “I’d never let anything bad happen to you.” She was thrumming with worry and it was starting to take over her heat scent, the sharp tinge of anxiety growing stronger. He tried to distract her with conversation. “You know, I stayed up here the other weekend. It was pretty nice. You did a great job.”

She looked flustered at the praise, and he could already smell that heady scent again. “Oh?”

“I was sleeping on an air mattress, though. It was kind of cold until I got enough wood for the fire. I’ve brought some supplies up with us today because I’ll be staying there over the weekend.” True to his word, in the back of his truck, he had plenty of blankets, pillows, and food supplies for them to use over the next week.

“That sounds nice…” she mumbled. 

“Yeah, I think it’ll be relaxing. Not having to be around so many people. What’re your plans?”

She seemed embarrassed, looking down at her knees, picking at the black tights she wore. “I’ll be alone, too. It’s not… not a great time…”

Steve knew, because of her heat, she wouldn’t be able to be around others for the long weekend. However, he feigned ignorance and frowned. “Oh, why is that? Everything okay?”

She nodded hastily. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine…” He didn’t push her because he could smell the scent on her growing stronger. They sat in silence for a few minutes, and he noticed she was squirming in her seat every now and then. He could smell her building arousal, sense her quickening heartbeat, hear her heavy breathing. 

Her pre-heat was hitting her hard, which meant her heat was approaching faster than he had anticipated.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah… It’s hot in here… is it hot in here?”

Her hand shot out to lower the temperature in the car, but he caught her hand in his. “I thought it was cold.” The concern in his tone was contrived but sounded convincing to her. “You’re so warm.” His fingers brushed along her wrist, and he could hear the way her breath shuddered in her chest. One eye still on the road, he brought his hand up to feel her forehead, pressing the back of his fingers against her temple, her cheek, her neck. “You’re burning up.”

He could feel her tremble, the flutter of her heartbeat in her carotid artery. All too suddenly, she pushed his hand away, voice shaking as she spoke, “Y-yeah, I’m okay, Steve. I’m fine. Just a little under the weather.”

“How long have you been feeling sick?”

“Uh—uhm… not long… but I don’t want to… to… get you sick.”

By that point, they were pulling up the long road to the cabin. Steve sent her a reassuring smile. “I have the serum, sweetheart, you can’t get me sick. Don’t worry—I’ll take care of you.”

She was silent then, but every bump on the rocky dirty road made her squirm in her seat, thighs clenching together. Her breathing was still labored, and when he parked, he quickly rushed to her side of the car to help her get out, hands on her waist making her shiver. 

Once she was outside, she took a deep breath, hands clinging to Steve’s jacket as she let the cool air consume her. Snowflakes fell down into her hair, on her cheeks and eyelashes, a crown of crystalized ice piling on her head, but she didn’t seem to notice the blustery weather as she relaxed into Steve’s arms. 

“Is the cool air helping a little?” he asked, lips close to her ear so she could hear him over the heavy winds.

She nodded absently, eyes closed, but he knew it wasn’t the cool air. It was his touch—skin contact with a strong Alpha, exactly what she needed right now. After a moment or two, he adjusted his grip, arms encompassing her, and she didn’t notice herself when she turned her face in towards Steve’s neck, deeply breathing in his scent, drifting closer and closer until her nose was pressed against his scent glands through his sweater.

“Omega,” he growled, half in questioning and half in warning. It was enough to snap her out of her trance, movements sharp as she pulled away from Steve’s embrace and distanced herself from him.

“S-sorry,” she stammered, pressing her hands to her heated face. “I—I—I—” She was shaking, shocked at her behavior, nervous about the implications. 

“It’s okay, darling,” he said, approaching her with hands raised. “How do you feel?”

Closing her eyes again, she took another few deep breaths, this time faced away from Steve. Finally, she sighed, and nodded. “Better. The fresh air is helping.” He maintained a concerned expression until she turned back towards the house. “Let’s get going. It’s snowing pretty hard.”

Indeed it was, fat flakes coming down harder and harder the more they stood outside, falling on their heads and shoulders and soaking into their hair and clothes. The ground was covered in a thick blanket already, and the wind was picking up more and more.

She hadn’t realized yet, but Steve knew that by the time they were finished looking over the house, the snow would be too deep to drive in, and they would be trapped here for the duration of her heat.

[sevsnapeposts]

Snapetober Day 13: Spell casting.

this one is so so so bittersweet, i love it. nothing else to say, give it some love. up in ao3. i hope you enjoy it as much as i do.

Day 13 - Spell casting.

--

Prudence looked awful.

Sure, usually she was no ray of sunshine, always with dark circles under her pretty eyes and that perpetual mask of indifference, but when with a simple glance Severus was able to notice the sadness in her, it meant things were really bad.

As if to support his point, those bloody Dementors followed her. Not like chasing her and trying to suck her soul, but passively, gliding gently in the air, turning in her direction when she passed where they were, attracted by the amount of negative energy that was expelled from her. Severus had noticed such incidents, and was considering teaching her to make a Patronus when, taking the initiative as always, Prudence appeared at his office.

"Sorry to bother you, I know there is still a week to go before classes start yet again”, the girl began, entering his office after he gave her permission to do so, "but it is possible that I have one… tiny little problem".

“Only one?”, Severus growled sarcastically, arranging some papers that would serve his fifth graders, the last preparation before their O.W.L.s. He was usually a little kinder to her, but after what had happened before Christmas, he didn't want her to get her hopes high about him. It would be easier to put some distance now instead of breaking her heart harder later.

"I would love to recite my traumas to you, professor Snape, and thank you for your concern, but this is a tad more urgent”, she replied, using her own sarcasm without a second thought. The man rolled his eyes, slightly amused, and finally leaned back in the chair, arms crossed, indicating with a nod that she could continue. Prudence wrinkled her nose a little before speaking. “Is there anything that can help me keep the Dementors away? It is not that I am not fascinated by their stay at the castle, of course, but I would like to be able to play with my feet in the water without them freezing”.

"Have you tried to simply stay away, Miss Pennyworth?", he asked, more to see how often they followed her than to annoy her.

It was the girl's turn to roll her eyes, one of the few gestures she made.

"I would not come to bother you, had I not already tried everything", she replied. She sighed and looked around the office, as if she didn't already know it by heart from being there so many times. “Lately they swirl where I walk. I do not know why they do it, and although I would like to investigate, I prefer to have a way to defend myself in case the worst happens. I understand that the light repels them, but I doubt that by ‘light’ they mean a Lumos”.

She was a smart girl. Severus was grateful that she was picked for Slytherin and not for Ravenclaw, for at least as a student of his house she felt the confidence to approach him and allow him to help her.

"Meet me in the Charms room at 12 o’clock, Miss Pennyworth”, he said at last, before turning back to his papers. Prudence nodded and left without saying anything, walking away before Severus succumbed to the urge to ask why she was so sad.

"The Patronus is an extremely powerful defensive spell", Severus was saying, pacing back and forth in front of Prudence, who was sitting on the floor, very modest, her emeralds fixed on him. “Among other things, it serves especially to repel Dementors. However, just as it is powerful, it is also very difficult to conjure. Do you know anything about this spell, Miss Pennyworth?”.

Prudence was silent for a few moments, pondering the question.

"I once heard Camelia reading about it in one of those advanced magic books", she began. Severus would be lying if he said he wasn't a little flattered by how extensive Prudence was when talking to him, since she usually limited herself to short or straight monosyllabic answers with others. “I know that they can be corporeal and take the form of an animal that is related to whoever produces it, but not much else”.

“Not bad. Indeed, the Patronuses can be corporeal, but for it to take a form is a much more complicated task, dare I say impossible. Luckily for you, it doesn't have to be a corporeal one for it to keep your dear friends away”, said the professor, earning a ‘tsk’ from his student, although for a moment the ghost of amusement passed by her eyes.

"Can you make one?", the girl asked. One of her best qualities was curiosity, although Severus didn't like it too much when it was pointed directly at him. Partly because he was too reserved, and partly because he had a hard time refusing to answer her questions.

"Now, to conjure it you first have to learn wand movement and optimal pronunciation", he continued, ignoring her question for the moment. He pulled out his wand and motioned for her to get up, which she did, pulling her wand out as well, and stood next to him, getting to work.

The young Slytherin was a speedy student, and she was soon able to copy the movement of the wrist, which was the easiest part, and the proper pronunciation, slightly more difficult as it needed perfect emphasis on each syllable. Despite her progress, however, Severus doubted the girl could complete the spell due to the last and most important requirement.

"Well, you’re not as incompetent as you seem", he commented the moment Prudence waved her wand for the last time, confidently reciting the incantation. The girl shot him a penetrating look, offended as always by the little tone he used. “With that out of the way, just one more thing is missing”.

“And that is…?”, she pressed after a few seconds, anxious for his dramatic pause.

"The Patronus is a positive force, a representation of all positive, good feelings”, he began, very slowly, examining her face closely. Oh, how he wished he could use Legilimency on her. Perhaps that would make her easier to understand, “and therefore, to conjure it successfully, you need to have a happy memory in mind. The happiest memory possible”.

Severus felt something heavy in his stomach as Prudence paled, her expression as serious as ever but her eyes losing the light they had gained in that time being alone. She didn't say anything, acting like nothing, nodding her head.

"Once you have it in mind, in theory, you should be able to create a Patronus. Like this: Expecto Patronum!”, he exclaimed, and from the tip of his wand came a beam of light, disembodied of course, that swept across the room before fading. Prudence watched the phenomenon in surprise, momentarily forgetting her discomfort, but otherwise she took no action, her distant gaze lost at the point where the light had faded. Severus crossed his arms. “I know it's wonderful, Pennyworth, but if I agreed to show you the spell it's for you to use it, not to give you a show”.

"Yes", she said, snapping out of her stupor, and raised her wand. It gave Severus the impression that she was trying to appear secure, but he could see right through her, see the insecurity that plagued her body.

"Think about the happiest memory you have, Miss Pennyworth, and focus on what you felt at that moment so you can conjure it", he said, standing behind her, expecting nothing but paradoxically hoping, wishing with all his heart that something would come out of the tip of her wand.

Prudence stood still for a moment, perhaps searching through her memories for one that she found worthy of it, and when she finally dared to exclaim the spell, just as he had anticipated, nothing happened. Not the slightest bit of light appeared. It didn't even feel like something was going to happen.

"Do not be disappointed, Pennyworth. Again”, he ordered, and she obliged obediently.

And when nothing happened, she tried again.

And when she failed again, she kept trying.

It wasn't until her tenth try that she, frustrated, finally put her wand away. Severus was opening his mouth, ready to order her to do it one more time, the best way he had to encourage her, when she spoke.

"It is pointless, professor”, she said, her voice very low, almost a whisper. She was trying not to sound disappointed. “I do not mean to be dramatic, but I do not have... It does not matter. Thank you, anyway”.

"Miss Pennyworth...".

"No, it is okay", she whispered, and with a sigh headed for the entrance. She was very stiff, more than normal, her shoulders too straight. Her voice was strained, too, as if it was going to break any minute. “I will have to go from one place to another, or perhaps it is better not leave the castle, I guess”.

"Pennyworth—".

"Sorry to waste your time, professor", she continued, as if without listening, opening the door and ready to run as soon as he didn't see her. Severus knew she would do that, and he didn't want to think about letting her go without trying everything he could do to help her, to keep her from crying.

"Prudence”.

The girl froze, and she stayed that way for a few moments before finally closing the door. She didn't turn to face him yet, head down, and Severus noticed that she was digging her nails into her hand.

Silence stretched long enough to become heavy, almost painful. Severus wanted to ask what was wrong with her, why was she acting like this, why since she had returned she seemed like at any moment she was going to collapse, why after doing what she did she was withdrawing back into her solitude.

But he didn't know how to do it. He had no idea how to ask, or what he would say if she answered.

"I think I have never been as happy as that day", she began, in that same low, almost broken voice, shattering the silence. She still didn't turn around, she still dug her nails into her hand. “The day I kissed you. I know it was wrong, and I know I should not have done that. Not because you are my professor, but because I did something like that without your permission, and I am sorry for it... But it is the memory that I used”.

Severus felt heat, not just in his face, but in his chest. The spectre of her lips reappeared, the phantom sensation of something very soft pressing firmly against his. He would have smiled if it weren't for the tense situation.

"And it makes me happy. It makes me so, so happy”, there was a tremor in her voice, a tremor that, sadly, he recognized. Severus wondered for a second if it hadn't been better to let her go, to spare her the pain of speaking. “But I guess it is not enough for... for... Sorry”.

Severus rushed to her side, and in a second he held her in his arms, even though she kept her back to him, still trying hard to stop her tears. It didn't last long though, for she soon turned around and hugged him, clinging to him as if her life depended on it, her face pressed against his chest.

"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry”, she whimpered between her sobs, pressing herself closer, as if she wanted to plunge into him and never leave him again, as if he was her only refuge in that storm that was in her. Severus knew that she wouldn't talk about it, that she wouldn't tell him exactly what was going on, but he hoped it would be enough to know that he was there, for her.

“Never mind it. It's okay”, he whispered, in the kindest way he could, stroking her blonde hair, trying to comfort her.

It took a while before Prudence calmed down enough to stop her crying. By then they had sat on the floor, and although she still looked very bad, she seemed a little calmer, more liberated. The cold however had increased substantially, and with a quick glance towards the windows, Severus confirmed that there were a pair of Dementors, freezing the surrounding air, drawn just as he suspected by the negativity of the poor girl in his arms.

"You are a mess", came the hoarse voice. Prudence was still there, hidden from the world, and Severus thought how good it felt to have her with him.

"Nothing that can't be fixed", he replied, lifting one shoulder. Reluctantly, the girl stopped hugging him, sitting up straight, her gazes crossing. Severus' chest ached from seeing those puffy eyes, tear-stained eyelashes, and reddened nose. The girl looked behind him.

"There they are again", she commented, probably wanting to divert his attention from her, frowning slightly.

"I don't think they'll stop chasing you", he told her. She let out a sigh, lips in a very soft curve downwards, but it quickly disappeared when she felt a hand take hers, cheeks flushing, eyes fixed on him, “but I can help you keep them at bay. Just don't expect me to chase after you in the gardens, Prudence, because I absolutely won't”.

A glow was born in her piercing emeralds, much like the one that had lit them that day before holiday when she had leaped into his arms and kissed him. The girl squeezed his hand, and although she didn’t dare to close the distance again, she was brave enough to smile at him.

[kitkatd7]

Christmas Coffee

12 Days of Christmas; Day 1

Pairing: Barista!Ransom x Reader (Soft College AU) (Based in New York for the Rockefeller center and Christmas feeling) 

Summary: You usually stop for Starbucks before class but the semester is over. That won’t stop you from stopping by to see the cute barista though ;)

Warnings: None? Just fluff, caffeine  and snow.

Request: Ransom loses money access, works for Starbucks, falls for cute barista. (Requested by @malloryharris )

Word Count: 1108

A/N: Hey y’all! Here’s my first Christmas/winter story! Also @malloryharris I’m sorry I changed it a bit from your request, but I really couldn’t get it to flow within the exact guidelines. I hope it’s okay!! Love you. (Also covid doesn’t exist in these stories and It’s 1 week before Christmas here :))

Masterlist of Masterlists

Other Characters Masterlist

12 Days of Christmas Masterlist

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

You receive your favorite holiday coffee from the starbucks barista with a smile and small “thank you,” before glancing at your cup with a sigh. Every time. You would think that since you've been here 2 days a week for the past 3 and a ½ months they would at least learn to spell your name correctly, but no. Not even once have they spelled it right. You're usually too busy rushing off to class to even glance at it, but the semester has finally drawn to an end. With no class to scurry to, you step to the side, pulling out your phone before subtly glancing behind the counter, hoping to catch a glimpse of the reason you even come here; the quiet, brooding barista you’ve been silently crushing on since the beginning of the semester. 

Finding no sign of him you turn to go, gasping when you spill a third of your drink down the front of a barista in a dark green cashmere sweater. 

“I am so sorry!” 

“Watch where-” The biting remark dies on his lips as his eyes land on you. Straightening, he takes a half step back. “It’s alright. It wasn’t very hot at least.”

“I wasn’t looking and I was upset about my order and- I should have been more careful,” you blabber, blushing in embarrassment as a small smirk appears on his lips. 

“I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me then, won’t you, sweetheart?” 

You blush harder, tripping over your words, “ho-how?”

“Ask me out.” His tone is between teasing and daring, but he’s not expecting you to do ask. 

“But I don’t even know your name,” you reason.

“Ransom. Ransom Drysdale. And you are…?” He asks, glancing at the spelling on your cup in confusion. 

Chuckling slightly, you give your name, feeling a little more comfortable. You extend your hand politely and his large hand envelopes yours. “They always spell my name wrong,” you explain with a roll of your eyes.

“Well how is it supposed to be spelled?”

Spelling it properly, you laugh gently as he gives what is almost a smile.

Anyway- I’m not asking you out, I’m telling you what’s gonna happen,” you smile flirtatiously as his eyes widen in shock.  “Friday night, 8 o’clock and don’t be late. Meet me at the restaurant across the street.” With that you waltz towards the exit, feeling more than a little surprised at your own forwardness- and Ransom was feeling the same. 

He wasn’t used to other people’s cockiness and attitude- but at least he got his Christmas wish; he was finally going out with you after glancing at you across the counter for 4 months.

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

Thursday morning rolls around quickly, with snow coming down in large, slow drifting flakes; blanketing New York in what truly is a winter wonderland. Slipping into your black jeans and a light pink v-neck, you grab your leather jacket and black beanie before walking out the door and the short distance to Starbucks. 

Ordering your usual, you scroll through Instagram while you wait. 

“Hey.”

Startled, you look up to see Ransom holding your order.

“Hey,” you repeat, smiling at him as he hands you your drink. 

“Thank you.” Checking the spelling out of habit, you're startled when it’s correct. “Did you…?” you ask, gesturing to it.

“I’ve gotta get back to work,” is his only response as he shrugs nonchalantly- but his eyes are bright and a small smile tilts his lips and that’s all the answer you need as you blush.

“I’ve gotta go anyways. But don’t be late tomorrow, and dress warm!” 

“Why do I need to dress warm for dinner?” He implores, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“Who said we were going to dinner?” You smirk, watching his brows furrow further. Shooting him a wink, you walk towards the door.

You look back over your shoulder when he asks, “Where are we going then??”

“You’ll have to show up to find out!” You say cheerily, a small laugh leaving your lips as he almost smiles. 

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

Waiting under the restaurant sign, you smile when you see a tall, unmistakable figure walking towards you in a brown trenchcoat. 

“Wow- you look... beautiful,” he says honestly, gaze drifting over your favorite outfit before meeting your eyes again.

“Thank you… You look handsome.” You return his warm smile. 

“So… Wanna tell me where we’re going?” He asks, falling into step beside you.

Giggling softly you glance at him, looking away when you find him already looking at you. “No… I don’t think I’ll tell you. It’s your Christmas surprise,” you say with a wink as he sighs.

“I’m not gonna convince you to tell me, am I?”

“Nope! But cheer up! I promise it’s good. Totally unrelated question... but what shoe size do you wear?” 

“10 or 10 ½… Why?”

“No reason.” You smile up at him.

You walk a few blocks with a stream of chatter between you; getting to know each other.

Pulling a dark green handkerchief from your back pocket. “Stop here and put this on,” you say as he looks at you suspiciously.

“Oh c’mon! It’s clean and everything,” you joke as he relents, tying it behind his head with a huff.

 Taking his hand you start leading him slowly down the street, missing the blush that dusts his cheeks. 

“2 tickets and rentals please,” you say, walking up to the window, murmuring a polite “thank you” before pulling Ransom after you. “Okay sit here,” you say, guiding him to a bench. “I’ll be right back.” 

A moment later you reappear. “You can take that off now.” 

As he slips the blindfold off, you hold up 2 pairs of ice skates, a victorious, cheeky smile plastered on your face. “Surprise!!!” 

His brows furrow, and your smile falters, thinking you must have done something wrong. “I’m sorry- I didn’t- This was a bad idea. We can go, if you want,” you offer, your smile melting away.

“What? No, that’s not it. This is great!” He says reassuringly, giving you another half smile. “I just, uh, don’t know how to ice skate,” he confesses, rubbing the back of his neck. 

Smiling, you put on your skates. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.” At your words, the first real smile you’ve seen appears on his lips., reflecting your own.

3 and a ½ hours later when they kick you out at closing time, you’re both breathless and bright eyed. 

You stroll home slowly, laughing and smiling all the way, your smile growing when his larger hand slips into yours and large snowflakes fall in unhurried swirls around you. 

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

Thank you so much for reading!! Any and all feedback is welcome!

Forever Tags: (OPEN)

@lovesmesomehiddles @saiyanprincessswanie @kind-sober-fullydressed @romainniesweetheart​ @angelinathebook @malloryharris @itsunclebucky @teenagereadersciencenerd @chaotic-fae-queen @bugsbucky @cap-n-stuff @imma-new-soul @wonderlandfandomkingdom @fablesrose @coffeebooksandfandom

12 Days of Christmas: (OPEN)

@myraiswack

[notyouraveragepromptpage]

Common Misconceptions #2

Since the first one did so well (and English still sucks,) I’ll do another one...

To vs. Two vs. Too:

TOO- This is used to replace the term, “as well,” or, “also.” It is also used to exaggerate an adjective. (I.e. “I missed you, TOO.” -OR- “Don’t have TOO much fun.” -OR- “It’s TOO cold outside.”)

TO- This word relates directly to a recipient, destination, or action. (I.e. “I sent the package TO her yesterday.” -OR- “I’m going TO pick lunch up at one o’clock.” -OR- “I am going to Florida for Christmas break.”)

TWO- This is only (and, yes, I mean ONLY) used when counting! (I.e. You have TWO nieces. You have TWO weddings to attend this month, bless your soul.)

Its vs It’s:

ITS- For whatever reason, the creators of the English language decided to change the rule of possessive contractions for this ONE word. “Its” is actually used as a possessive term. (I.e. That was ITS last gallon of fuel.”)

IT’S- This, however, is used as the contraction form of “it is.” (I.e. “IT’S not that big of a deal.” -OR- “IT’S my birthday today.”)

A lot vs. Allot:

A LOT- This refers to a quantity, large or small. (I.e. “I’m in A LOT of pain.” -OR- “She gave me A LOT of graduation money.”)

ALLOT- To allot someone something means to share with them a specific portion. (I.e. “She ALLOTTED me three hundred dollars.”)

*in other words, you can ALLOT someone A LOT of money, but you cannot A LOT them ALLOT of money. I know. Crazy, right?

I vs Me:

This is an extremely common mistake in spoken English, but is less common in written English.

If you can say the sentence first using “I” and it makes sense...still check yourself...English sucks.

For example, if you can say “I went to the movies yesterday,” you can also say, “My friends and I went to the movies yesterday.”

You can say, “I gave him a ride to work today,” or you can say, “he and I rode to work together today.”

HOWEVER, a lot of people say, “My friends and ME -or- ME and my friends,” and that is simply not right. It is perfectly understandable, but still 100% wrong.

Good vs Well:

This is SO simple-

You are not doing “good.” You are doing WELL.”

Hope this helps with all your English troubles! More to come :)

-LK

[missinghan]

「 semper lucet ↠ bang chan 」

You’ve been a loner for as long as you can remember. 

Really, as melodramatic as it sounds, you don’t think it’s fair when every other kid in class always sits together during lunch and talks about something as silly as a new trendy toy that they saw on TV the night before or complains about how much vegetables their mom's packed into their lunchbox. And they always have a partner when the teacher tells the class to work in pairs. No one ever gets left out. Unlike you. 

Every day is the same as every other day; you get home from school only to find a single lamp in the hallway being lit up, dinner in a box of Tupperware inside the fridge that’s at least five times bigger than yourself and a cold pitch of milk on the marble counter. You also don’t think it’s fair when your classmates get to run into their parents’ arms after a long day full of monstrous lessons because, sadly, your parents have never come home before ten o’clock. 

Some outsiders might find it funny if they witness a nine-year-old preparing her own meal, getting washed up on her own, and tucking herself into bed. Others might find it dangerous and irresponsible of the parents to leave their daughter at home all alone at such ungodly hours. But you? You find it quite depressing actually, sometimes you wonder if you’ve done something terrible in your past life to deserve to die alone in this one. 

Hence, sleep doesn’t like you that much. Most of the time, you’d be turning and tossing under your comforter non-stop until your parents’ footsteps can be heard outside. Other times, you’d find yourself having a staring competition with the ceiling until sleep finally gives in and draws a hand over your eyes. Your boring life goes on like so, slowly and dreadfully.

Well, at least it keeps going like that until something crashes onto your balcony. Or someone. 

“Ow, I’d better work on my landings next time.” It’s a boy, you assume. “Sorry I was running a little late, I miscalculated and got lost on the way. I’m Bang Chan, by the way, nice to meet you!”

From then on, he crashes at your place (literally) every night, though you have to give him more credit because his landings only improve through time. It’s the giggles that are the sails upon your boat. You both find the funny in every little thing and for the first time ever, you find yourself laughing so much that there are tears in your eyes like a dam that’s about to break and your stomach hurts like no other. It’s the kind of sweetness that you need during rough times but he’s more than just someone who makes you laugh. 

Chan is probably the best thing that’s ever happened in your life and you truly don’t deserve him. And the best things don’t happen twice, they say. 

He goes through the years with a petty, teenage-angst Y/N that decides it’s a good idea to resent her parents for the rest of her life. Edgy, you know. And you go through the years enduring his baffling questions about how insignificant humans are in this universe and his weird obsession for the pile of philosophical books that your dad gave you as a Christmas gift. 

But you’re more than willing to hear him ramble about how irritating and insufferable humans can be sometimes because of his dimples, his curly locks, and the way his eyes light up like a supernova when he gets excited about something. There’s kindness in his smile, a gentleness that’s irreplaceable. It’s the smile of one who laughs with ease, a soul-connector. You suppose he’s the kind of person who lives how he believes people should, a ray of sunshine wherever he goes. Chan is the calm sea, a friend, a guardian angel. 

Yet most of all, he’s your lucky star. 

“I live on the brightest star up there,” Chan speaks softly. “Did you know that?”

“Hmm, that’s very charming, tell me more,” you toss a piece of popcorn at him, snorting involuntarily. 

It’s a lovely Saturday evening and your parents have decided to go out to their favorite restaurant after a tiring business trip, leaving you at home with a sad portion of leftover spaghetti from your dad’s birthday party. Chan’s situated next to you on the couch with a boring rom-com playing on the TV and a bowl of popcorn on his lap, your head leaned against his shoulder. Nothing new. Though normally, he’d start making fun of the cliché plot and terrible acting with you, a lot has been on his mind. It’s a shame you don’t notice how sad his starry eyes are tonight. 

“I’ll have to leave soon, I don’t have much time left,” he lets out a breath, an exasperated sigh. 

You reply with little consideration, only paying attention to how stale the popcorn is, “Okay, my parents are gonna be home soon anyway.”

“No,” Chan’s voice suddenly becomes firm and this causes you to startle. “I’m leaving for good. You’ll never get to see me again.” 

A pang of fear is evident inside your rib cage. It’s finally time. The time you know would come sooner or later but dread. You’ll have to say goodbye to the only person that you genuinely care about other than yourself, to the only person that you feel happy with. How are you supposed to bid him a farewell without feeling like you’re losing a part of yourself?

“You’re my friend, Chan, I’m not gonna let you go, not like this.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. There’s nothing I can do,” Chan pushes your hands away gently and stands up from the couch, knocking the bowl of popcorn onto the floor. “I hope life won’t be so unfair towards you anymore.”

You swallow dry, tears already pooling inside your eyes, “What happened to ‘I’ll always be with you’ then?”

“Don’t humans lie to themselves in order to feel better?” Were his last words before disintegrating into a thousand bits of stardust. You should have known better; you wanted a friend and the universe answered your calling. But with every granted wish comes a consequence — another star will lose its light.

Chan’s stepped out of your life so easily and you wish you could do the same with moving on from him. It’s not easy when wherever you go, you see his face and hear his laughter. It definitely doesn’t help when there’s a rose attached to your university acceptance letter for astronomy. And the afterwords of the letter reads ‘To every star that you’re looking for’.

During your days of working as an apprentice for professor’s Park, a strange asteroid catches your attention with little time. Its pattern of behaviors is making you highly concerned since the amount of nuclear fuel it’s exhausting is downright alarming. It’s going through the various stages of a star’s life almost as though it’s a human being. With the help of Park, you’ve concluded that due to the unstably explosive core, this has caused far too many reactions and absolutely no control over how fast it’s using up hydrogen. After a few decades, once there’s no fuel left, the star will collapse and its outer layer will explode as a ‘supernova’. 

Although your prediction seems to be too irrational and unrealistic, the research’s still nominated for an award. And while professor Park is dealing with the press all smoothly, you remain anonymous under the project’s name, only going as far as letting them know you’re the one who’s named the star ‘Semper Lucet, Bang Chan’. 

Or in English — ‘Bang Chan, Always Shining’.

[magnoliasinbloom]

Crash Course Love

Infinite thanks to @anna-swims​ and @lcbeauchampoftarth​ for being awesome betas.

AO3 :: Previously

12: Past Tense [Claire]

I’d been dreaming of Jamie.

I had dreamed of his hands roving all over me, touching me, pleasuring me. I thought I had dreamt his hand on my breast, his arousal pressed against my bum, and I shamelessly ground my body on his, in my lust-fueled dream. The sound of his voice had hit me and it had stopped being a dream.

I’d made it become reality. I’d gone for broke and kissed him, and more. What on earth had possessed me to do that?

You’re insanely attracted to him, that’s why.

He hadn’t rejected me, and for that I was grateful. But now paranoia had set in and I was worried about what our encounter would do to our budding friendship. Afterwards, I had felt a little stilted and awkward. He gave no outward sign of discomfort, but was attentive and polite as usual.

But now that I knew what Jamie looked like in the throes of passion, starting a conversation became doubly hard. The roads had been cleared, the snow storm having spent itself in a night. After breakfast with his family and being hugged goodbye by everyone (including my vague promise to Ellen about coming back soon), he had driven me home; the radio was on a little bit loud, breaking up the silence between us. We managed a few half-smiles, a brush of hands here and there, and a promise to call each other soon. We had a wedding to attend, after all.

I had a few texts from Louise and a voicemail, who wanted to go over the flower arrangements one final time, now that the wedding invitations had been mailed and RSVPs were pouring in, including mine. The wedding was set in a few weeks, right before Christmas. The shop was closed on Mondays, but I texted her back so we could meet up later that week. I did a load of laundry. I went over some invoices for the shop. And all the while, in the back of my head, the memory of Jamie’s mouth and hands on me lingered.

The ringing of my phone startled me out of my reverie; Jamie Fraser flashed on the screen, and my heart pounded in double-time. The tension in my shoulders eased and I felt something unclench in my stomach I hadn’t even realized was there.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Sassenach, it’s Jamie. Well, o’ course ye ken that, mobiles show ye who’s calling, don’t they. But why do we always answer the phone like we dinna ken who’s calling, right?”

“Hi, Jamie. You know, you’re right about that. I’ll start answering my phone differently from now on.” I laughed, set further at ease by the Scottish burr of his voice.

“Och, weel, I just wanted to thank ye for accompanying me to lunch. And being so nice to my family. They absolutely loved ye, I think ye could tell. And I wanted to say… sorry. I guess. For the… this morning, ye ken. In case ye were regretting it. Or if ye think I was out of line.”

“Actually, Jamie, I was hoping you didn’t think I was out of line.” My hands fiddled with the papers on the table. “I think I was pretty clear about what I wanted. But maybe you didn’t want to be pawed at and I don’t want you to think that it’s all I wanted from you. You’re my friend, and I wouldn’t want this to come between us.”

“Friend?” Jamie repeated.

“Of course, I consider you my friend,” I said, confused. “Aren’t we friends?”

“Aye, of course, Claire.” He paused. “There was one more thing I wanted to ask ye. As friends, then.”

“Sure.”

“I meant to ask ye out. On a proper date.” Jamie’s tone went up on the last word, making it sound like a question.

“A date.”

“A real one. Not just coffee—unless that’s what ye would like, of course. But I thought perhaps dinner.”

“Yes.” I didn’t hesitate any longer. My fingers gripped the phone tightly, and the swooping feeling of butterflies was back in my stomach, but for a good reason.

“Really?” Jamie asked, incredulous.

I laughed again. “Yes, Jamie, I’m saying yes. Would this Friday be alright?”

“Sounds perfect. Shall I pick ye up at 7? Did ye have anything in mind that ye’d like?”

“Whatever you choose will be fine. I trust you.”

He didn’t know how much.

- - -

For the rest of the week, I spent my days dreaming about my date with Jamie. Date, date, date. A real date. I put in flower orders for bouquets and tended to the indoor plant boxes that held rosemary, parsley, and thyme, but all the while my thoughts were with Jamie.

After meeting Louise on Friday morning for some final wedding details, I left the shop in a hurry, already planning my outfit in my head. Dress up, or seem casual? Maybe a mix of both? As I ransacked my closet, pulling out shirts and jeans and the few dresses I owned, I decided to call Geillis.

“I have a date tonight.” I didn’t even bother to say hello as soon as she answered.

“Ye do?” Geillis Duncan was one of the few people in Glasgow who’d made Frank and me feel welcome back when we were new to the city. She owned a small but popular café near the flower shop. Our friendship had survived my breakup; it dawned on me that we hadn’t talked to each other in a couple of weeks, and she knew nothing about Jamie. I filled her in on some of the details, keeping the most recent private ones to myself.

“So he’s picking me up in like, an hour, and I don’t know what to wear!” I wailed, trying to zip up the back of a dress and giving up in frustration.

“It sounds like ye’re overthinking this, Beauchamp,” Geillis said. “Why don’t I come over now and lend ye my black skirt ye like so much and the yellow top? It’ll bring out the color of yer eyes, I’m sure Jamie will love ye in it.” She was giggling madly at the idea.

“Don’t tease me, Geil, I’m so not in the mood right now. But thank you.”

We hung up, and twenty minutes later she was at my door, helping me with my hair and make-up after I had dressed. I knew there was an ulterior motive to her being at my flat, and she confirmed in no uncertain terms that she wanted to see Jamie herself.

“Geillis, please don’t—”

“Relax, Claire. I just want to see the lad’s whose bonny red hair has ye in such a fluster.”

“You have red hair, you know.”

Geillis clucked. “’Tis not the same, and ye ken it. When will he be here?”

Before I could respond, there was a knock at the front door. It was promptly seven o’clock, and I glanced at Geillis in a panic. She smoothed down the skirt and pushed me towards the entrance. Heart pounding, very much aware that Geillis was peering gleefully around the hall for a glimpse of Jamie, I opened the door to find a very dapper Jamie. In dark jeans, a pressed sky-blue shirt and a black coat. The hues of his outfit brought out the intense sapphire of his eyes as his own gaze raked me over and seemed please at what he saw. I blushed.

“Hello, Sassenach.” He leaned in to kiss my cheek and his fingers lingered briefly on my arm. I caught the scent of his cologne, like tart lemons and spice.

“Hi, Jamie.” We stood there for a few seconds that seemed an eternity, before a loud harrumph and a fake cough from Geillis broke us out of our reverie. Jamie peered into the flat as I quickly grabbed my purse from the kitchen table where I’d left it before.

“Is there someone here with ye, Sassenach?”

“It’s my friend Geillis, but don’t worry, you don’t need to meet her and she was just leaving. Weren’t you, Geil?” I raised my voice for her benefit as I led Jamie out of the flat. “Lock up when you go!” I shut the door on one of her loud laughs; I was sure to hear from her later.

We walked to the stairs and Jamie tentatively reached for my hand. I grasped it firmly and squeezed in reassurance. Traipsing down the stairs, and remembering the last time we had done so together, I felt stupidly happy and shy all at once.

The restaurant he’d chosen was a low-key pub tucked into one of Glasgow’s winding alleys. We ordered wine and the awkwardness that I’d feared after our previous encounter was gone. Jamie and I talked animatedly about our week; my preparations for the upcoming wedding and flower arrangements, and he told me of the distillery and all the Christmas orders they had to fill.

“I was thinking of a new special blend; aging whisky in tequila barrels, not regular oak. The flavor is more complex, so different from what I’ve tasted. I plan to call it something like da anam, two souls.”

“That sounds very different! Where would you get the barrels?”

Jamie spoke of partnering up with several tequila producers in Mexico, as I speared rosemary potatoes with my fork; all the while we poured glass after glass of ruby wine for each other. Conversation flowed between us just as effortlessly.

Over dessert sometime later, I felt the back of my neck prickling. I sensed eyes on me, and they weren’t Jamie’s. It felt wrong, somehow.

I turned my head slightly and found Frank looking at me. He was with Sandy; he quickly bowed his head and shifted his attention elsewhere. I felt my face flush. I swiveled back and dropped my fork with a clatter.

“Sassenach? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t—it-it’s Frank.”

“Where?” He looked around wildly and I shushed him and clamped my hands on his arm in desperation.

“He’s back there, with the blonde. Just—be discreet.” Jamie got a good long look and then leaned in to whisper quietly.

“Didn’t ye say Sandy—his fiancée, with the giant ring ye mentioned. Wasn’t she supposed to be pregnant?”

“She might have had the baby, I don’t know. Her stomach was pretty big last time I saw her.” I sneaked another look.

It wasn’t Sandy.

She was blonde like Frank’s fiancée, but this wasn’t her. She looked even younger, fresher-faced, and was definitely not pregnant.

Cheating, lying, bastard.

I took deep breaths and Jamie ran a hand soothingly down my back. I shivered and grabbed my coat off the back of my chair.

“Jamie, I’m sorry, can we go?”

“Of course, Sassenach.” After quickly settling the check, he stood up as unobtrusively as a six-foot man ever could and pulled out my chair. He put his arm around me as we walked quickly to the exit.

It was inevitable that we pass by Frank’s table, though. The restaurant was a bit crowded and the layout made it impossible to avoid him. As we did, I got up the courage to meet his eye, bolstered by Jamie’s warm hand on my back. He wore a shamed expression, and could not hold my gaze. The woman stared back curiously at us, and I heard her ask him who I was.

“No one,” Frank replied, a slight tremor in his voice. Jamie tightened his grip on me, and I knew he’d heard him too.

Jamie came to a sudden halt near their table; he turned to face me, and with a soft whispered, “I hope ye dinna mind this,” pressed a soft kiss to my pursed lips. I opened my mouth in surprise, and he continued to probe gently. I found my arms rising to encircle his waist, clutching at the back of his coat. I dimly heard Frank clear his throat and murmur something unintelligible. I had ceased to care, though, lost in the fog of kissing Jamie.

Jamie’s mouth trailed across my cheek. “Dinna listen to him, Sassenach,” he whispered as he nuzzled my ear. “Ye’re so much more than ye know.”

- - -

A/N: I finished writing it out, so new chapters will post on Thursday. Finally, a schedule! The whisky in tequila barrels is actually a thing. Can’t find an English link, though. Thanks for all your likes, reblogs, comments. <3

[merakiaes]

Fall Apart To Fall Together - Santiago “Pope” Garcia

Pairing: Santiago “Pope” Garcia x reader 

Requested: Yes. 

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: Mentions of miscarriage. Not proofread so I’m sorry in advance for any possible mistakes. My first time writing for Pope so show some love <3 And send in more Triple Frontier requests xx

Wordcount: 2392

Summary: Losing a child will drive any couple apart but if it’s meant to be, you’ll find your way back to each other in the end. 

Part Two

It was an extremely rare thing to see a marriage with no problems whatsoever from start to finish, without at least one conflict or argument every other month.

Maybe your husband or wife was a drunk, or an addict. Maybe they were sloppy and lazy and refused to evenly split the responsibility of doing chores and taking care of your kids. Maybe you fought a lot, about money, lack of emotional support or maybe they were getting a little too close to their co-worker and continuously staying late at work for other reasons than they claimed.

Every marriage had its ups and downs, but some downs were worse than others.

The pain that followed losing a child that you had spent months preparing for, months bonding with even when it was still living inside your body, months preparing a place in your heart for, was simply indescribable.

You had grown up being the oldest out of eleven siblings so by the time you moved away from home to go to college at nineteen with a scholarship to your name, you felt like you had gotten enough of the parenting for a lifetime.

Not only did you simply not want children, but you didn’t want to pass on your bad genetics, your family having a long history of mental instability and different disorders. 

All of your siblings had something, whether it be severe depressions, anger issues or they were alcoholics or drug abusers.

You were one of the unlucky ones who got a little bit of everything. You were bipolar like your grandmother and had anger issues like both of your parents, and let me tell you the two did not go well hand in hand.

You didn’t want to pass shit like that on to another generation like your parents had eleven times. You couldn’t see yourself as a mother and all you wanted in life was to move forward in your career and be successful.

But that all changed when you met Pope. 

He was a retired military man and just like you, he was very hardworking and dedicated to making a nice living. But he was also a family man, which came to be a problem.

Having been an only child and growing up having no father figure, he longed to become a father himself and getting an opportunity to do everything his father hadn’t done for him.

You told him already in the beginning of your relationship that you weren’t interested in reproducing and it crushed him, you could see that it did.

But he had loved you from the moment he laid eyes on you and knew that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, so he accepted it, and you got married.

He kept bringing the topic of children and starting a family up every once in a while, just to test the waters and see if maybe, just maybe, you had changed your mind. But you never did, strictly taking your birth control at the exact same hour every day.

And yet somehow, you managed to get knocked up, four years into your relationship and three years into your marriage.

Pope was absolutely ecstatic and, of course, he wanted to keep it.

You had always thought that it would be an easy decision if you ever, against all odds, did get pregnant, but now that you were… Now that you had seen the tiny little smiley face on the digital screen of the pregnancy test and now that you knew that there was an actual life growing inside of you, you were suddenly questioning everything you had ever thought you believed.

Suddenly, the idea of being a mother didn’t seem so bad, and the mental image of your husband with your baby suddenly turned you on more than anything ever had before.

So you decided to keep it. 

You had never seen Pope so happy, and the longer into the pregnancy that you got, the more connected you felt to your unborn baby, which was why it killed you so much when you lost it.

You had never, in a million years, thought that you would have to grieve your own child, but a glimpse of something you, to a beginning, thought you didn’t want, discovering that you did actually want it and then not being able to have it was an entirely different kind of pain.

You carried your baby girl every second of her life and when you carried a life, it being there and then so suddenly gone, a part of your soul died forever. And so did Pope’s.

You had never even wanted a baby to begin with, but he had never wanted anything more and losing what he held dearest completely crushed him.

He never got to hold her in his arms, or bounce her on his lap. He never got to read to her, or watch her as she napped. She slipped away so quickly, before he had even gotten to say her name.

You didn’t just lose the baby. You also lost the 1, 2, 10 and 16 year old she would have become. You lost Christmas mornings, loose teeth, and first days of school. You just lost It all.

You fell into a depressive episode, not being able to eat, drink, sleep, or do anything but lay in your bed all day long, staring into nothingness with your blinds pulled down to hide you from the rest of the world.

You constantly questioned whether you could have done more, pondered whether there was something you could have done to save her, tossed and turned at night worrying that the things you innocently did may have harmed her.

If you hadn’t carried that heavy bag, would she be there with you now? If you hadn’t been stressed at work, would she still be growing in your womb?

These questions, these fears, became a daily form of torture and only a mother who had lost a child could understand what it was like to live with this niggling guilt.

And it was especially hard when you had to go through it all alone, because Pope… Pope was an entirely different planet.

While you mourned by shutting down, he mourned by putting himself to work, so intensely that he was barely even hanging on to his sanity toward the end.

He was agitated and over-worked and you needed his support, needed to have him there with you and help you through your loss. After all, you were in it together.

But it was like he was avoiding you to every cost, obsessing over some drug lord rather than acknowledging his loss and dealing with his trauma, and it just made you so, so angry.

And in the end you just… snapped. Both of you snapped and you realized soon that the miscarriage had forged a crack in your marriage and relationship, so deep that it just couldn’t be fixed, so you got a divorce and went your separate ways.

Last thing you heard from Benny was that he’d moved to Colombia to get closer to work. He never reached out to you after moving out, so you didn’t either, even though you secretly wanted nothing more than to get him back.

A year and a half passed without hearing anything from or about him, and eventually, you just stopped thinking about him, forcing yourself to forget about him in an attempt to numb your pain.

It was currently three minutes to three in the morning according to the alarm clock standing on your bedside table, the bright red numbers illuminating the otherwise pitch black room.

The house was eerily quiet and just like every other night since the miscarriage, you laid wide awake, although your mind was completely blank.

A knock on the front door suddenly reached your ears and to a start, you figured it was just the sleep deprivation causing your brain to play tricks on you.

But then there was another knock, and you quickly realized that there was actually someone at your door.

You had no idea who would come knocking at your door at this hour but whoever it was, you hoped they would just go away if you ignored them.

It quickly became apparent to you, however, that they were there to stay, when a third knock echoed through the quiet house.

You heaved a sigh, closing your eyes for a brief moment before throwing back the duvet covering your body and sitting up on the edge of the bed, taking a moment before standing up and heading for your closed bedroom door.

You wrapped your cardigan tighter around your body for heat when you walked into the cold hallway and headed straight for the front door, wasting no time in standing on your toes to look through the peeking hole once you reached your destination.

To say you were shocked to see who it was, was a big understatement, the familiar face that you hadn’t seen in so long causing a knot to form in your stomach.

But you swallowed your anxiety and reached for the lock anyway, twisting it to the right and slowly opening the door.

Your eyes met Pope’s in an instant and for a moment, he almost looked surprised to see that you had actually opened. But he quickly regained his composure and you wrapped your arms around yourself as you shivered, looking at him.  

“What are you doing here, Santi?” You asked softly, your voice coming out as silent as a whisper.

He sucked in a deep breath, releasing it just as quickly, his face falling. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed hearing you call me that.” He confessed, causing your heart to tug in your chest.

But you kept your face free of emotion, simply staring at him.

When realizing you weren’t going to say anything, he sighed, his shoulders falling. “I just… wanted to check up on you.” He said, and then proceeded to lift his hand for you to see. “I brought Chinese. Sweet chili chicken with noodles.”

You hadn’t even seen the white and red paper bags up until then, and neither had you felt the smell. But now that you did, you couldn’t deny the fact that you were extremely hungry.

Your face softened and you hugged yourself closer, giving him a look of disbelief. “You wanted to check up on me… and you brought food, at three o’clock in the morning.” You pointed out. “You couldn’t just send a text?”

“I wanted to see you.” He replied without missing a beat and you flinched slightly, not having expected such a quick answer.

“You’ve been gone for…” You trailed off, not even being able to remember in that moment, and sighed, letting your arms fall down to your sides and bringing one of them up to run a hand over your face tiredly. “I need to go back to sleep, I’m exhausted and I can’t do this right now.”

He shook his head, looking pleadingly at you. “Please, (Y/N), I know you. You weren’t asleep to begin with.” He pointed out, before looking down at his feet. “Something happened and I… I can’t stop thinking about it. I know you don’t want to see me but I- I really need you.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, the worry coming so naturally it was like you had never been apart in the first place.

Out of pure instinct, you stepped out on the porch, into the cold night air, and reached out for his hand, the sudden touch of affection causing his eyes to widen slightly.

You ignored the look he was giving you and squeezed his hand, giving him a careful look. “What happened?” You whispered. ”Are you okay?”

He sniffed, looking to the side. “Can I just come in?” He asked and looked back to you, nodding toward your bare legs where your skin was covered in goosebumps. “You’re gonna get a cold if you stay out here like that.”

You dropped his hands and sighed, wrapping your arms back around your body to provide some heat.

“Yeah.” You whispered, and stepped out of the way to let him in, knowing he was right.

He stepped after you over the threshold and looked around in the dark hall, eyes turning sad when they landed on the familiar photographs of you and him on the walls, that you hadn’t had the heart to take down even after all this time.

You turned away from him to give him a moment, closing the door and locking it back up.

When you turned back around, you had no more than a second to react before his arms had wrapped around your.

“I’m sorry, for everything.” He mumbled into your hair, but you said nothing, did nothing, but stand there with your arms hanging limply at your sides.

When noticing the lack of response, he pulled away, looking down at you with sorrowful eyes. This time you responded with a nod, your hand reaching out to take the paper bags in one hand and his hand in the other.

“Come on, we can talk while we eat.” You said and he nodded, letting you steer him into the living room.

And talk you did.

He finally opened up and acknowledged his loss and told you all about the mission and how it had gone wrong.

You fell asleep in the sofa at six in the morning, tangled up in each other to the sound of birds chirping outside the living room window and with empty Chinese boxes spread out on the coffee table.

Seeing him again after everything, and after such a long time, brought back all of the memories and created many questions in your head, a lot of confusion as to what was going to happen next.

You had known each other for so long, been married and almost had a child together. You had been in love, like really in love. And yet everything felt so incredibly foreign to you.

But you did know one thing for sure; the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around you and the musky scent of his aftershave felt more familiar than anything else, and right before you had fallen asleep, you came to the conclusion that maybe, sometimes, two people had to fall apart in order to realize how much they need to fall back together.

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[inspired-by-the-music]

For You: Stand By Me

Taglist: @jineunwootrash @angels-from-california @jayjaydawn @i-peachesandstrawberries

If you would like to be added to the taglist of any of this blog’s works, please ask!

Recommended Reading: For You: 4 O’Clock; these works have separate, independent, but deeply interwoven timelines.

Chapter 12: A Boy Like The Sun

Lei’s POV

It was the best dream I ever had— the feeling of Sehun’s lips against mine. His touch was gentle— so gentle that I shouldn’t have felt it long after the moment passed, so faint that it shouldn’t still seize my heart and squeeze my lungs empty and wipe my mind of every thought except those of him. 

Sehun. Sehun, who was never mine. Sehun, who made me believe for a fraction of an infinity that maybe everything in life had led to that moment when he filled my every sense and painted my every thought and memory with colors that I had never seen once with open eyes. 

My best dream. My favorite dream. The dream that blessed me too many nights before and after it became a curse. The dream I would bring back to life every day of every week even if it ended the same way every single time. 

The problem with dreams coming true is that you always wake up or the dream becomes a nightmare. 

Never in a million years would I have believed that his smile and his laughter— the luxuries that were once so rare and more brilliant than the sun in my childhood world— would conspire to break my heart into a million little pieces that were too jagged and sore and bloodsoaked by the piano to pick up and fit back together.

Yes, it was my first kiss. 

He was my first kiss. 

Sehun was my first kiss. 

Sehun. 

And I wasn’t shy— just humiliated by his laughter at my expense. I was just humiliated that I couldn’t catch my breath. I was just humiliated by the urge to kiss him again because it— he— Sehun was everything I was afraid of wanting or needing to feel like one of those people who can smile in the sun and really mean it no matter how many eyes try to rip them apart. 

And I was, for a fleeting second that I wish with all of my soul had lasted forever, proud to have shared my first and only act of intimate affection with Sehun because I always imagined that he was so much more than handsome before he broke my heart with a smile and a wink. 

And if he would have loved me, even in his broken joke of a way that impaled me through the chest, I would have forgotten my refusal to date— just for him. I would have let him in every door, I would have helped him climb over every wall because — well— every wall crumbled at his touch. Not even his ill-timed laughter and mockery would rebuild them. Every door was always unlocked for him, and his kiss blew them wide open with a wild gust of tornado hurricane wind, and it would take all of my strength to lock them.  

I guess I have Minseok to thank for saving my pride. If he hadn’t called Sehun to his side and allowed me to run up to my moonlit bedroom where I could reconstruct my defenses— the defenses that I once imagined applied to everyone but the one who already held my heart in the palm of his hand— maybe I would have acted on that urge to rise on the tips of my toes to kiss Sehun again and again and again even if it was just a joke to him and Chanyeol, even if his heart could never swell for me or break for me, even if I could never look at him while remembering the beloved boy who was always beautifully too far out of reach, always opposed to love despite frequent expressive actions, always just slightly out of step, never quite on the same page, tragically never on the same path for long, never once in a million daydreams close to being mine. 

I closed the door on years of memories, years of looking at one person who never needed to look at me to have my love, years of falling for Lucas’s adamant belief that everything works out for those who are meant to be together, years of praying in the tiniest, most irrational piece of my heart that Sehun and I would someday—

Every thought died when I made eye contact with his poster that hung on my wall since his debut. All at once, as I removed it pin by pin, imagining that this was exactly what I would have to do in my mind with every one of his memories if I ever wanted to stop bleeding, tears streamed down my cheeks. 

Would you think that I’m pathetic if I told you how hard it was to be angry with Sehun for hurting me? Would you think that I’m weak if you knew how long I struggled to pack Sehun’s poster back into its container? Would you call me a fool if you knew that I almost left his photocards up on the wall because I wanted so desperately to remember him without that stabbing ache in my chest— because I wanted to forget that he told me I was annoying for following him and that he laughed at my first kiss and that he dashed my every conception of him? 

I don’t care if you would. 

It killed me to lock our memories away in that box. It killed me to unfasten his bracelet. I hated that I couldn’t just close my eyes and think of Sehun as I always had. I hated that I couldn’t trick myself into believing the lie that nothing had changed— that I wasn’t shattered. 

I don’t care if you think I’m weak because I don’t care about being strong anymore. After all this time, I have accepted that there is only one person who has ever held the power to fragment me like that. I have accepted that I am foolish enough to trust him with that power in every universe. What’s worse: I am okay with spending all that time crying in the dark if it gives me the vaguest hope that he could love me someday. 

I was hugging Sehun’s note that came with the bracelet against my chest when Lucas burst through the door, smiling and unsteady on his feet. “Baekhyun spiked the punch!” He cheered, holding up a clear glass of red liquid. “I brought you some!”

Lucas’s smile faltered when he sat on the foot of my bed. Setting the cup down on the floor, he asked, “What’s wrong, Lei?” 

And before I could decide what was worth sharing and what was worth locking away in the box, I threw myself into Lucas’s outstretched arms, sputtering, “Sehun— Sehun— Sehun—” 

I couldn’t say anything but his name. The name that still made my heart swell. 

Realizing that I couldn’t say anything else, Lucas ran a comforting hand up and down my back, promising, “It’s okay. Just let it out.” 

Until the embarrassment of baring my raw emotions overwhelmed the ache of a broken heart, I sobbed into Lucas’s shirt. If he didn’t smell so different— if he didn’t feel so different— if his voice didn’t sound so different, I would have imagined that (instead of Lucas) Sehun held me together that night. 

When I finally ran out of tears that Lucas could dry, when I finally untangled myself, I rubbed at my eyes. “I’m really tired.” My words blurred together in a pathetic mumble. 

“Oh,” Lucas hummed. He scratched at the back of his neck. “Well, if you’re sure—” I nodded— “then I’ll just go back downstairs.” He picked the alcoholic punch up off of the floor. “Just text me if you need me, and I’ll come running.”

“I know.” To prove that I would be okay alone— that I could heal alone— I tried to force a smile. Just before he walked out of the door, I asked, “Can you take that box away for me?”

“Sure,” Lucas agreed before knowing its contents. After taking a glance at Sehun’s picture, he swore, “I’ll take good care of this for you.” 

Practicing my hand at pretending to be strong despite the growing urge to snatch my box away from Lucas and return its contents to their rightful places, I lied, “I don’t care what you do with it.” 

Lucas blinked. He didn’t believe me, but he didn’t say so. “Someday you might,” was all he said before walking away with every token of my memories with Sehun.

If I thought that the memories would fade with those objects out of sight, I must have been disappointed breathless at the number of scenes that played in my mind as I stepped out of my white dress and heels into a set of sunflower pajamas. When I settled into bed, rubbing at the headache forming around my temples, I realized that I would never forget Sehun. Only with the greatest exertion of effort would I be able to hide my love for him (and my humiliating utter desperation for his love) behind a mask of exaggerated anger. 

Here’s the truth, if you want it: I didn’t love Sehun any less after he kissed me at that Christmas party. It was with great difficulty that I avoided him over the following two years. The embarrassed anger that would eventually swell in my gut with his mocking flirtatious remarks wasn’t an immediate response. For a while, I was still stupid enough to swoon at his glance. 

I was lying in bed, dreaming of how I would survive without surrendering any more pieces of my heart the next time I saw Sehun, when three knocks sounded at the door. My eyes opened wide to the sight of Baekhyun tiptoeing into my bedroom as if he were afraid to wake me. 

Although Baekhyun and I were not especially close, I didn’t feel bothered by his sudden, unannounced, unsolicited appearance. Spurred by curiosity that burned through my sadness, I sat upright and quipped, “Come on in, Baekhyun.” 

Turning toward me quickly enough to flick his orange-dyed bangs out of his eyes, Baekhyun broke into a glittering smile. “Thanks for the warm welcome!” 

He turned back to trace the outline of the place where Sehun’s poster stood for years. His touch was careful, hesitant as if he feared that the wall would crumble under pressure. “I was looking for the bathroom. It’s a happy accident that I ended up where you are.”

Owing to his devious smile, I didn’t believe that anything Baekhyun did was an accident. Still, I was afraid to say something that would send him away. Forgetting that I wanted to be alone just minutes ago, I didn’t offer him directions to the bathroom. “A happy accident,” I repeated under my breath.

He said, “The party is boring without you,” although he hadn’t said a word since ‘hello’ at the start of the night. “Can’t I convince you to go back with me?”

“I would follow you anywhere, Baek.”

My hand clamped over my mouth after the words fell out as if in an ill-timed effort to contain them. I don’t know why I said that. I had never followed Baekhyun a day in my life— not even that time at the SM showcase when he tried to lead me away from the first Sehun-induced heartache. 

“Anywhere?” Baekhyun winked and melted the block of ice in my chest. 

Stupidly, as if enchanted by his smile, I nodded, conditioning, “Just not tonight.” Although Baekhyun asked for no explanation as his gaze dropped down to his feet in a perfect picture of disappointment, I said, “My heart is too heavy tonight.”

“What if I carried it for you?”

Thinking that he couldn't have been serious, I laughed until I felt his eyes on me. Something about the way he looked at me took my breath away— made my heart thunder as if it wasn’t broken— made me forget that I was supposed to be crying, mourning a dream that I never should have dreamed. 

Once I found my voice, I said, “I couldn’t ask you to do that.” 

“Somebody else is holding it,” Baekhyun muttered, likely assuming that I wouldn’t hear. He reached for the ribbon on my vanity— the one I wore on my debut stage— and I raced to reach it first. 

But I couldn’t beat Baekhyun. I don’t know why I tried in the first place. I don’t know why I didn’t want him to touch the item I hadn’t looked at since the first and only time I wore it. 

The ribbon was radiant in his hands. As he traced his fingers over it, eyes widening and glittering as if it were an artifact of his wildest dreams, I told him, “I’m holding my heart. I can feel it pounding. Breaking. Aching. It’s mine again, for the first time that I can really remember, and I wouldn’t give it to someone like you in its current condition.” 

In a wounded whimper, Baekhyun repeated, “Someone like me?”

My heart stilled. I was quick to explain that I wasn’t trying to insult him. “Yeah. A boy like the sun.”

Baekhyun’s eyebrows pinched together to form little wrinkles in his forehead. “The sun?”

“Yeah. Somebody who can smile in the sun and mean it no matter how many eyes try to rip them apart.” I burned at how easily I could speak to Baekhyun, who was little more than a friendly acquaintance, when I was a stuttering, blubbering mess around Lucas, who was my best friend. 

The stars shone in Baekhyun’s eyes a thousand times brighter than they ever did in the sky. I couldn’t look away from them. I couldn’t forget them. Sometimes, I count them when it’s hard to fall asleep. 

“That’s what you think of me?” Baekhyun beamed. His smile made me smile too. “You think I’m like the sun?” 

“You’re probably brighter than the sun, Baek.” 

Suddenly, he was too bright, and there were too many parts of myself that I wanted to hide in the shadows. Although I didn’t want to, I needed to look away from Baekhyun’s smile. My eyes fixed on the ribbon in his hand, and I reached for it again. 

Holding it just out of reach, Baekhyun looked down on me with a muted form of his sunshine smile. “Have you ever heard about ribbons and soulmates?” When I shook my head, flushing at the word ‘soulmate,’ Baekhyun continued, “I learned about it from my second favorite love story. Apparently, if you give a ribbon to someone or if someone gives a ribbon to you, your souls will be tied together forever. So be careful of who you give this to.” 

Struggling to imagine that Baekhyun was the kind of person who watched or read romantic stories, much less believed romantic superstitions, I narrowed my eyes at him, waiting for some outburst of laughter. “Do you really believe in that sort of thing?”

Baekhyun shrugged. “The couple in the story was together forever, so it can’t hurt to be careful.” He pressed the ribbon into my palm. His skin was fire against mine— a flame that warmed but didn’t scald. I think that’s the first hint that I was dreaming. Feelings like that don’t exist in real life. 

Maybe I scalded him, though. Maybe I gave him frostbite. Baekhyun’s hand flinched away from mine, and he looked down at it as if expecting to find a scar or a blister. There was nothing there.

Frowning, I said, “I’m sorry if I hurt you.” 

Baekhyun looked up from his hand to meet my eyes. “Huh? You didn’t hurt me. You could never hurt me.”

I wanted to ask him how he could be so sure about something like that, but I didn’t even want to imagine hurting Baekhyun, so I made a joke instead. Grinning down at the ribbon in my hand, I asked, “You gave this to me. Does that make you my soulmate, Baek?”

He blinked a few times, mouth falling agape before a smile broke across his face. “Don’t make a big deal of it.” 

Those words— they struck a familiar chord within my heart, within my memory. I closed my eyes and remembered a golden pink sunset coloring a cotton candy sky, a crown of white roses, a white rose in his coat pocket, a fountain where we made wishes. Deja vu. The memory with Baekhyun that played in my mind had never happened, but still I— I could feel it. 

The last time I heard him say those words to me, did I want to kiss him as badly as I did that night in my room? I must have. Whether it was in another dream— because surely, this was a dream— or another lifetime, those words must have inspired the singular desire to bridge all distance between us. 

The dream prompted me to take the first step toward him— the first step I had ever taken in my life— ribbon still in hand, and I would have brushed my lips against his in pursuit of some cosmic miracle if he didn’t wheeze, “This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen.” 

My eyes, which I must have closed in preparation for some eclipse, opened to the sight of Baekhyun’s eyes swimming in tears. I would have done anything to take that look from his face, even if it was a figment of a dream turned nightmare. Leaping away (despite my persisting desire to cling to him) because I knew I was accidentally the source of his tears, I opened my mouth to apologize. 

Baekhyun didn’t give me a chance, though. Gnawing at his lips as if he was afraid that I would try again to kiss them, he bowed to me. “I’m sorry, Lei. There’s something really important that I have to take care of. Don’t—” A tear streamed down his cheek— “If we’re dreaming, don’t forget me when we wake up.” 

Before I could promise that I wouldn’t, he bolted out the door without glancing back. He was gone just as suddenly as he appeared. And I missed him. I miss him. 

Maybe Baekhyun knew how to carry others’ broken hearts, and maybe he didn’t need permission to do so. After he left, and I settled back under my blankets, the ache in my chest was almost gone. 

I fell into dreams about him— laughing down by some lake, arguing in some darkened corner of an SM banquet hall, talking by the side of some pool, driving through my hometown late at night with the sunroof down, tossing coins into a wishing fountain, stumbling into his arms at a party where we matched from head to toe. Dreams— maybe they’re memories from another life. Maybe I woke the next morning, haunted by the hope that I loved Baekhyun in another life and that maybe, someday, if I did everything right, I would get to live that life again. 

I dreamed of Baekhyun, burned as I wondered how I would ever face him, squirmed as I debated whether he was in real life anything like he was in dreams. 

And then I remembered the dangers of wasting one’s life dwelling on dreams— even the best ones. And I learned to be content with his mischievous glittering smiles and the memory of the stars in his eyes. And I never quite packed it away— the hope that there would be a time for him someday. 

Of course, I think I forgot just about everything when I saw him again— the one who could send me falling with just a glance. 

Sehun. 

Maybe my heart was mine, but that was only due to the force with which I held it whenever Sehun stood too close, calling it to him without words. That was only due to the scowl that I sculpted onto my face whenever the white-hot sting of his laughter wasn’t a distant enough memory. 

And even then, if I’m really honest, if I hold nothing back, I’ll admit that my heart was secretly (not-so-secretly) his all that time.

[easily-infatuated23]

The Tub Part 2: First Date (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

a/n: hello! a follow up to The Tub was requested by @ultradangerouspie so here it is! Part One Here

pairing: Draco Malfoy x non-pure-blood Slytherin Reader

word count: 1.1k

summary: After a chance meeting in the Prefects bathroom, Reader and Draco Malfoy have a date night in the common room during Christmas break

warnings: none to my knowledge 

The time between Thursday lunch and Friday night felt like years. I was sad to see my friends all going home for the holidays, but my mind was so occupied with thoughts about what this Christmas break would bring, it didn’t feel as bad. When Draco Malfoy had asked me out on a date, to say it was a shock would be an understatement. This cold boy who would only sneer and berate others had shown me a side of him that no one knew existed. Did he even know this side existed? He had been gentle and sincere, two words which had previously been antonyms when used in relation to the name Malfoy.

After saying my final goodbyes to Ron, Harry, and Hermione, I walked back to the Dungeons and into my dorm room. I changed out of my green Sytherin uniform and into my favorite blue mom-jeans and a black sweater. I took a deep breath and looked at my watch. 8 o’clock. It was time. I took another deep breath and opened the door to the girls dormitory. There were no other Slytherin’s staying over Christmas break so Draco and I would be truly alone. As I descended the staircase into the common room, I saw he was already sitting in the big armchair near the fire. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting to long” I said, pausing at the bottom of the stairs. He looked up at me and flashed a smile. “Not at all” he breathed. He pushed himself out of the chair and we met half way through the common room. “Did you have anything particular in mind for this date?” I asked. He stepped aside and gestured to a table set up behind him. On the table was a wizard’s chess board, butter beers, and various snacks. “I was curious to see if you are as good at wizard’s chess as you claimed yesterday” he chuckled. “Oh you are so on” I replied.

We sat down on the floor on either side of the table and began the game. Once the first game ended in a tie, we played another round, and another round which turned into us each taking turns letting the other win. I hated to admit it but Draco was quite the chess opponent. While we played, we talked about practically everything. He told me about his father’s unreasonable expectations and how kind his mother was. “Whenever my father was in a particularly bad mood he would do nothing but scream at me for hours. My mother would then come into my room at night and rub my head and make me feel less scared and alone.”

His eyes were glued to the board when he said this. I could tell he was trying his best to hold back tears. I placed my hand over his which caused him to look up at me. “She sounds wonderful” I said with a smile. I then told him about my family and the scandal that had occurred when my mother decided to marry my father.” We were still connected on the table as I spoke, his thumb dancing in circles lightly on the top of my hand. “She was nearly disowned. My dad is very ordinary you see, he’s an muggle English professor. She is a gifted Seer like me but her sort of “added” gift is that she can make people think or believe what she wants them to. So needless to say, after a bit of convincing, they accepted him”. “Wait so let me get this straight” he interjected. “Your mother literally changed her families minds about muggles”. I nodded. This fact shocked him.

Eventually, we stopped playing chess and sat on the couch together. I shivered. I was always cold. Being in the dungeons late at night during winter practically turned my blood to ice. I tried to hide it but he saw right through me. “Cold?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at me. “Just a bit” I replied. He opened his arms and gestured for me to come closer. I scooted close to him and swung my legs over his, my arms wrapped around his neck. Now I was sitting with my body facing the arm of the couch but our faces were mere inches apart, like they had been the previous day in the Prefect’s bathroom. Our eyes met and there was silence. He studied my features, his eyes darting from my eyes to my lips and back again. “You are surprisingly warm” I said. I had always expected Draco to be cold. His pale skin, icy hair, and piercing eyes gave a different impression than the warmth and tenderness I was currently experiencing. He smiled at me, a small blush arising on his face.

“I know you have to keep up your whole ‘bad-boy I hate everything’ persona but I hope you know that I really like the you I’ve spent the evening with”. His blush intensified. He placed his hand on my face and rubbed his thumb over my cheek. “I’ve decided something” he announced. “And what is that?” I asked with a slight smirk. “I definitely fancy you”. We both laughed. “You are just now deciding this? I’m offended” I said, crossing my arms in front of me and turning slightly away as I tried to surprise a laugh. “No thats not what I meant” he replied, chuckling at my attempt at faking being offended. “I meant I fancy your mind just as much as your body. You are the only girl I’ve met here that is beautiful, smart, and kind to me even when I am…you know…” I turned back and hugged him closer to me. “Kinda the worst sometimes” I said, finishing his sentence. He laughed again. “Yeah something that like”.

“I would really like to be with you but if you want to be with me it comes at a cost” he remarked sadly. “We couldn’t tell anyone, not a single soul, and when we see each other in public I either have to be rude to you or ignore you all together”. I swung my legs off of the couch and reached for my half empty butter beer, taking a sip before facing him again. “You could also just be my friend you know. Like, we could work up to being friends publicly and then I can just assimilate into your friend group. I am assuming you don’t berate people like Pansy all the time.” Draco shook his head. “So there you go, perfect cover. Friends in public, together in secret. That way I can actually see you during the day without raising suspicion”. He chuckled. “You really are smart.” I shrugged. “I know how to get what I want” I replied. “And what do you want right now?” He asked suggestively. “I want you to hold me close and never let go” I said, kissing him on the cheek. “That I can do,” he said with a smile “that I can do”.