#my dad's been watching the rest of the show w my brother and ill walk by and see scenes occasionally and its just. it has only gotten worse

[professorllayton]

i watched the first 2 episodes of reacher w my dad when they first came out and i really. it was the most dull bland boring show ive ever seen in all my life.

[dumdumsun]

And Dusk

A/N: It's family dinner time, babes!!

Warnings: none that I'm aware of

Word Count: 3629

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Chapter 12: Team Zero

Striding into the steam-clouded sauna where the two remaining Swedish assassins now silently relaxed, The Handler began an unprompted conversation in their language. “All the new age remedies out there, but nothing beats a good schvitz when it comes to stress,” As she sat on the bench, the two men carefully watched her. “My job can be stressful, sure. But I can’t imagine what it must be like for you boys.” She batted her eyelashes.

“Do we know you?” The Swede, who appeared to be the leader, questioned. The Handler kept her head turned forward as she stared down.

“No. But I know all about you,” Standing from the bench, she quietly chuckled and walked to the center of the sauna, the steam crawling its way up to her neck. “However, seems you’ve run into some problems on this job.”

“Just a snag.” He tilted his head.

“You lost your brother. I’d call that more than a snag.”

Snapping, the second Swede pushed off the wall and marched up to The Handler. Before he could get too close, he grunted when she grabbed hold of his manhood, freezing his steps. She watched as his mouth fell open in pain. “What if I can give you the location of the knife-hurling dolt responsible for blowing up your beloved brother?”

The first Swede tilted his head. “Who are you?”

“Somebody you’re going to want to know.” Her eyes never left the man she was assaulting. The second Swede finally found the breath within him to speak.

“Unharm my weiner.” He wheezed in English, The Handler kindly doing as he asked, a smile on her face. He sighed and stepped away as his brother held up the hand that had been twirling a knife the entire time.

“Go on.”

At his words, she turned to him. “I’ll give you the exact location of the one you’re looking for. Diego. The rest… I’ll leave up to your imaginations.”

“What’s in it for you?”

“Let’s just say that his little game of ‘Hide the Sausage’ with my daughter needs a swift end. I just have one request,” The Handler approached the first Swede, the two in close proximity now. He watched her every move. “Don’t hurt the little one with the cute socks… and the other with the face scars.”

Lifting his chin, he furrowed his brows. “We’ve already killed her.” He mumbled. She only chuckled in amusement, the two men stiffening at the realization that their target may not have been executed like they thought.

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

The clicking of Reginald and (Y/N)’s shoes against the marble floor echoed throughout the hallway they walked down. The young girl was desperately trying to keep up with her father’s long strides, her puppy in her arms and her heart beating out of her chest. If they had actually complied, she was going to reveal her true whereabouts for the past two years to her family. They were going to know that the entire time they had been looking for Reginald, she was living under the same roof as him. No matter how many times she swallowed the lump in her throat, it always swelled right back up. “D-Dad, who are these people we’re having dinner with?”

“These people have been nothing but a nuisance to me.”

Her mind flashed back to the night of the gala. Diego had been there with Five. They were there for Reginald, to find out his intentions with the president. To find out what he was doing in Dallas in the first place. Reginald was a secretive man, he didn’t even let Grace or (Y/N) into his office unless he was present as well. Her stomach twisted in knots of anxiety the closer they approached the door to the tiki lounge. When Reginald stopped just before the doors, he turned to his daughter and lowered his voice. “When we enter, you are to sit and remain silent. Do not speak to them, do not interact with them. Sit and shut your mouth unless I tell you otherwise. And your pet remains on the floor or in your lap. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.” She whispered and held Mr Pennycrumb close to her chest, the pup quietly panting and licking her cheek. That seemed to be enough for Reginald, for he nodded and turned forward, slamming the door open and marching into the lounge.

The Hargreeves stood dumbfounded at their father as he headed straight to the table they surrounded, not a word leaving his mouth. None of them had expected to see him ever again, especially not after the funeral they had attended back in 2019. But what they really didn’t expect to see was (Y/N) right behind him, her eyes avoiding them as she absentmindedly pat Mr Pennycrumb under his chin. She especially avoided looking at Five, whose jaw was dropped upon her appearance. The real kick was when Reginald pulled out a chair and motioned for her to sit. Without even a peep, she sat down and allowed him to scoot her closer to the table before taking his own seat. The five blinked once before taking their own seats at the table.

“Not only have you burglarized my lab, set my chimp loose, conned your way into the Mexican consulate, repeatedly stalked and attacked not only me, but my daughter as well, but you have, on numerous occasions, called me-”

Klaus joined the table with a grunt, a martini in his hand. “Hey, Pop. How’s it hangin’?”

“-‘Dad’,” Reginald gave everyone a once over as (Y/N) shifted uncomfortably under the stares of her family. “My reconnaissance tells me you’re not CIA, not KGB, certainly not MI5, so… who are you?”

(Y/N) watched as they all glanced at each other, opening their mouths to answer, but quickly closing them instead. This went on for a few seconds before Five decided to do it, “We’re your children. We’re from the future. In 1989, you adopted us all and trained us to fight against the end of the world. Called us the Umbrella Academy.”

Reginald turned his head from left to right, frowning at each individual. “Why on earth would I adopt six-”

“Eight. One of us isn’t here.” Allison clasped her hands together on the table.

“Dead,” Diego muttered, his head bowed down. “One of us is dead.”

“And the eighth?” Reginald questioned. (Y/N) cleared her throat and began to speak, but stopped when he sent a cold glare her way. “What did we talk about?”

She quickly shook her head. “No, I… I’m the eighth. I’m also your child from the future. You just… got me very early this time-”

“(Y/N), it is not the time for your games-”

“It’s not a game! W-Why do you think I’ve been leaving my dates with Preston to be with them?” At the words ‘dates’ and ‘Preston’, Five leaned forward, eyes narrowed at his love. She glanced at him apologetically and shook her head. Reginald was just about to scold her yet again, but she rolled the sleeve of her shirt up to reveal the umbrella tattoo on her left arm. “Did you forget about this?”

“Yeah, ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba. Enough of that now.” Klaus hissed and turned behind him. Everyone froze and stared at him in confusion. Turning forward again, he simply motioned for Reginald to continue. Uneasy, he did just that.

“Regardless,” His gaze turned back to Five. “What would possess me to adopt… seven ill-mannered malcontents?”

“We all have special abilities.” The boy answered.

“Special? In what sense?”

(Y/N) set her pet on the ground and sat up in her seat. “In the superpowered sense.” She raised her brows. Reginald sighed and clenched his jaw.

“My child, if you do not stay out of this as we agreed, I am going to have to send you to the car with your mother-”

“Dad! I am being so serious when I tell you I am one of them!”

“Well, call me old-fashioned, but I’m a stickler for a pesky little thing called evidence,” He turned back to the table. “Show me. All of you.”

Allison scoffed and adjusted the straw in her drink. “Everybody wants to see powers all of a sudden…”

“We’re not circus animals, okay?” Luther spoke. “We’re not gonna bounce balls on our noses and clap our hands like seals for your amusement-”

As if on cue, Diego launched a knife across the table, zipping around Reginald’s head and pinning itself into the pillar behind him. The seven leaned in and watched as the man clicked his pen and began writing in his journal. “What are you writing?” Diego asked. Reginald glanced up at him.

“You are zero for two, young man.” He quipped, Allison sputtering her drink before Diego jumped up from his seat in anger. To prevent anything disastrous from occurring, Five stood and blinked in front of his brother, halting his movement and whispering a ‘stop!’ to him. “Now, that is interesting.” Reginald muttered.

Five sighed and headed back towards his seat. “Alright, uh, quick rundown. Luther: super strength. Klaus can commune with the dead. Allison can rumor anyone to do anything.”

“Except she never uses it.” Diego muttered. Allison removed her lips from her straw and sent a tight-lipped smile towards her brother.

“I heard a rumor… you punched yourself in the face.”

Against his will, Diego rammed his fist into his face, crying out and groaning in pain immediately after. Klaus reached over and tried to comfort him as (Y/N) and Vanya ducked their heads down to hide their smiles. Reginald glanced over at the latter. “And you?”

Luther placed a hand on his sister’s arm with a smile. “Uh, maybe we don’t take Vanya for a test run.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s probably not a good idea.” Klaus sat back in his chair.

“It’s fine,” Vanya shrugged, reaching for a fork. “I can handle it.” And despite her siblings’ protests, she tapped the fork against her glass. A high-pitched tone rang and shook the table. (Y/N) held her breath as she waited for the worst. A beat later, the bowl of fruit in the center of the table exploded, chunks of fruit splattering against everyone’s clothes and faces. (Y/N) tried to dodge as Mr Pennycrumb jumped into her lap, happily licking the food from her scarred cheeks and chin.

Reginald sighed along with his future children as he handed his only actual daughter a napkin to clean herself. Adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves, he side-eyed her. “Alright, my child, show me.”

Not even hesitating, (Y/N) stood and placed her pup in her father’s lap, despite his clear distaste, and straightened her clothes. “Alright. So, I can clone myself. To both summon and dismiss these clones, I have to sing two distinct three-note tunes.” To prove her point, she ‘ooh’ed her first tune, her clone appearing from her shadow, standing with a blank stare. Reginald raised his brows and began writing in his journal. “These clones not only share a conscience with me, but function as muscle and spies.”

“Spies?” Reginald frowned.

“They’re able to record their memories for me to look over in my own mind. Over the past year, I’ve come to learn that I can view these memories in real time. They also function to fulfill any task I command them.” Turning to her clone, she placed her hands on her hips. “Pick up Pennycrumb’s leash,” She commanded, the clone immediately doing as it was told. “I’ve also recently learned that I can give them the ability to talk. But if I wanted to… oh, I don’t know… attend a date with a certain boy without actually being there, I can project my consciousness into its body.”

After taking a seat, (Y/N) immediately slumped in her chair, unconscious. The clone beside her perked up and blinked twice before turning to Reginald. The man leaned forward to inspect it, but jumped back when it spoke. “But if something prevents my clones from fulfilling their task, they will start to self-destruct after twelve hours if said task isn’t completed. This is done by tearing into its own flesh and ripping itself apart.”

At this, everyone shivered.

“Right. It’s terrifying,” The clone returned to its blank and empty shell before (Y/N) raised her head. “And to dismiss, I hum the tune from earlier in its descending order.” She demonstrated said tune, the clone disappearing into her shadow. Mr Pennycrumb excitedly jumped from Reginald to her lap, nuzzling into her arm. “Any questions, Dad?”

Reginald was hastily scribbling into his journal. “Extraordinary. Absolutely extraordinary… And even more so that you’ve managed to keep this power from me for over a year.” He whispered. Turning her head, she caught Five’s proud smile. She winked at him as Diego stood from his seat.

“Look, we know that you’re involved in a plot to assassinate the president.”

“You were recently hospitalized, isn’t that correct? You still appear to be suffering from delusions of grandeur and acute paranoia.”

“Am I?” Diego reached into his back pocket and slid a picture over to his father. “Explain this. That’s you. That’s two days from now on the grassy knoll at the exact spot the president’s gonna get shot.”

Reginald picked up the photo and scanned it before his eyes moved to his daughter, the girl slightly shrinking under his gaze. Receiving his answer to the question he was to ask her, he turned back to Diego and set the photo down. “Well… I suppose you’ve solved it. You’ve single-handedly unearth my nefarious plot,” The smile Diego wore slowly faded. “Is that what you want to hear? You fancy yourself a do-gooder? The last good man who will save us from our descent into corruption and conspiracy? This is a fantastic delusion.” The more Reginald tore into him, the lower Diego sat himself into his chair until his lips were quivering and a tear slid down his cheek. “The sad reality is that you’re a desperate man, tragically unaware of his own insignificance, desperately clinging to his own ineffectual reasoning. More succinctly, a man in over his head.”

“Y-Y-You’re wr… wrong.” Diego stuttered. (Y/N) shakily inhaled and slammed her hand onto the table, alerting the rest of her siblings.

“Don’t you ever talk to him like that!”

“And you!” Reginald whirled to his daughter, the girl flinching a bit. “You have done nothing but deceive me! I half expect you to tell me that the man you chose over Preston sits among us!”

(Y/N)’s gaze instantly found Five’s. His green orbs were pleading, begging her to say it.

Tell him. Tell him you love me. Shout it from the rooftops, promise that you’ll always believe in us. Tell him.

But she couldn’t. Not when her doubts sealed her lips shut and casted her eyes away from him. The siblings stared between the two, heartbroken for their situation. Seeing that she chose to be ashamed, Five nodded and cleared his throat to speak. “Look, forget about the president. We have a catastrophic war coming in five days. We need to figure out how to stop it.”

“War?” Reginald looked away from his daughter and to the boy across from him. “Men will always be at war with each other.”

“No, this isn’t just some war. I’m talking about a doomsday. The end of the world.”

“Well,” Reginald muttered after a beat of silence. “You’re the special ones, aren’t you? Why don’t you band together and do something about it?”

Expecting much, much more than that, all seven of them frowned. This was what Reginald wanted from the start, for them to come together as the Umbrella Academy and prevent the end of the world. But it had been almost two weeks and two apocalypses managed to form due to their actions. That was why they couldn’t.

Grunting, Klaus suddenly raised both his arms in the air and shook uncontrollably, choking out gasps and jerking his body. (Y/N) gasped and slowly reached out to him.

“Is he having a seizure?”

“Overdosing, probably…”

“Should we do something?”

Whipping her head to Luther, (Y/N) widened her eyes. “Yes!” She shouted before turning back to Klaus as he shuddered. “Shit, what if he is overdosing?!”

“Klaus,” Five leaned over and whispered. “Now is not the time. What are you doing?”

Gurgling, Klaus turned his body to Reginald, face contorted in discomfort. “I’m… Ben!” He gasped out before falling to the ground, panting and groaning. (Y/N) rushed to his side and placed a hand on his forehead.

“Klaus? Are you okay? Can you hear me?” She whispered as he reached up and weakly wrapped a hand around her wrist. Reginald looked from Klaus, to (Y/N), then to his journal before he gathered his things.

“Well… thank you for coming,” He stood from his chair and began to walk away, stepping over Klaus’s body. “I’ve seen about enough. Come along, (Y/N), your mother is waiting for us.”

A loud slam sounded, causing everyone in the room to turn to Luther, who stood and ripped his buttoned shirt open. (Y/N) covered her mouth when he revealed his discolored bare chest and abdomen. “Look at what you did to me! Look at it!”

As the siblings groaned and gawked, Reginald simply turned his attention to Five. “You in the culottes. A word, in private? (Y/N), to the car. This instant.”

“Yes, sir.” She whispered before giving Klaus a kiss on the forehead and standing to her feet. Five walked by her side in silence until they had to split ways. Reginald turned to the both of them, and just when (Y/N) was going to turn out of the lounge, Five grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed a kiss to her lips. Gasping, the girl brushed her fingertips over her lips as her face burned. She watched Reginald for a reaction, but he only motioned for her to leave. “Bye, Five.” She grinned behind her hand and hurried away.

“This way, boy.” Reginald brought Five’s attention back to him, leading the two of them to the bar. After they took their seats and he ordered their drinks, Reginald turned to his future son. “You seem to be the sensible one of the bunch.”

“That’s because I’m the oldest,” Five nodded, Reginald tilting his head. “You know, technically, I’m older than you right now.”

Reginald turned forward when the bartender set down a bottle in front of him. “Cognac?”

“Just a smidge.” Five slightly smiled. As he poured their drinks, Reginald started their subject of conversation.

“The other night, you quoted Homer at me. Why?”

Five shifted in his seat and straightened his blaser. “You forced us all to learn it as kids. In the original Greek, no less.” He raised his brows before a glass was passed to him. He and his father did a silent cheer before he took a gulp of it. The entire situation was so jarring to the boy, but as he said before, he didn’t choose this life. He’s just living it. For the next few days, anyway. “This world ends in five days if we don’t get out of the timeline.”

“Worlds end. Paleozoic, Jurassic, and so on.”

“We can do something about this one.”

“Man’s greatest flaw: the illusion of control.”

The boy frowned. “I need your help. Alright? You’re my last sane option. Otherwise, I gotta make a deal that I really don’t wanna make. What do you know about time travel?”

“In theory?”

“In practice.”

Reginald hummed. “I know it’s akin to descending blindly into the depths of freezing waters and reappearing-”

“-as an acorn. Yeah.” Five finished with a sigh.

“What transpired when you tried traveling before?”

The boy blinked and shook his head as he looked away. “I botched it…”

“How?”

“I jumped too far forward, got stuck in the future for forty-five years in an apocalypse. Then I jumped too far backwards… except this time, I brought my entire family with me.”

Reginald tapped his fingers against the bar as he clicked his tongue. “Including (Y/N)?” He questioned, receiving a nod in answer. “Well, maybe your appetite is disproportionate to the size of your abilities. Start small. Seconds, not decades.”

“Seconds?” Five widened his eyes. “Look, no offense, but I need a bit more time for what I’m trying to accomplish here.”

“So much can change in a matter of seconds. One can overthrow an empire,” His eyes moved from Five to the doorway (Y/N) had been standing in seconds ago unbeknownst to Five. “One could fall in love. An acorn doesn’t become an oak overnight.”

Five swallowed, his expression that of defeat. “I was really hoping you had more than that.”

“I’m sorry I can’t be of more help…”

Five shook his head slightly. “I’m sorry, too. I gave you such a hard time as a kid… I didn’t know any better.”

Humming, Reginald glanced down before raising his glass. “No skin off my teeth, old man.” He smiled before drinking. Five sighed and downed the rest of his drink before standing from his seat. “One more thing.”

“What is it?” Five turned back to his father, freezing at the cold look he had been giving him.

“It would be best… if you refrained from courting (Y/N).”

A pang going through his chest, Five rapidly blinked and stepped back. “W-What…?”

“Your relationship is not healthy,” Reginald stood from his stool and began walking past the boy. “And besides…”

Five clenched his fists as his father walked towards the exit of the tiki lounge.

“I have plans for her.”

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[yodamn]

Through the Glass

Thire x Reader

Thire tells his kids how he met their mom! Inspired by the ending of We Bought A Zoo.

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

"Daddy?"

"Hm?" Thire hummed looking up from the bowl he was drying. He saw his little girl sitting at the island across from him. Curls pulled into two pigtails and his wife's big eyes staring at him much too seriously for a five year old.

"How did you meet Mommy?"

He stopped at that, surprised at the question. But Lilla was always curious about everything, always asking questions. She wants to know everything, and how everything works. Thire doesn't think her 'why?' phase will ever stop. He thinks somehow she short circuited Fox with all her questions when he came to babysit once. His curious little girl.

"You and all our uncles always tell stories about the war and how it ended but how did you meet Mommy?" Lilla continued.

Then Owet, Thire's eight year old son, bouncing over and rested his arms and head on the granite counter.

"Yeah Dad! I wanna know how you met Mom! Did you save her in battle like one of the pretty senators in the stories you read us!" The boy questioned and Lilla gasped.

"Was she? Was Mommy a senator?"

Thire laughed as his two kids began to create wild scenarios about how their parents met. He was the knight in shining white armor who saved her from a wicked gundark, he met her as the captain of pirates, and other scenarios.

"I'm afraid its not that exciting" he chuckled while finishing drying off dishes. He had Owet put away the cutlery for him while he placed pots and pans in their place in the cubboard.

"Well then how did you meet!"

Thire stopped and watched his two kids carefully. Owet had moved to sit in the chair next to Lilla. Even still it shocked Thire how much Owet looked like him and all his vod at eight. He had been terrified that his kids would have the advanced aging and wouldn't get to be kids for very long. He had begged any doctor he could to run test after test just to make 100% sure.

Thire clicked his tongue and grinned at his kids "Go get your shoes and coats and Ill show ya".

Giggles and peals of laughter erupt from the kids and they scramble to get ready. Thire shakes his head laughing before putting the rest of the dishes away and going to get himself ready.

"Come on Daddy come on!" Lila bounced and tugged on Thire's arm as he tied up his shoes and pulled on a jacket. He grabbed the keys to the speeder and settled both his kids in their seats, making sure they were both snug.

A short trip later brought them to an upper level Corosaunt diner. It was old and worn but always a good eat. Thire got his kids out of the speeder and they stood outside one of the large windows. Thire kneeled down,sat Lilla on his knee and pulled Owet close to keep him warm. He did his best to tuck his kids into his own jacket to keep them warmer.

"This is where I met her" Lilla and Owet gasped and wiggled in Thires arms begining their barrage of questions, "Hold on, hold on I have to tell the story!" He laughed and rubbed their arms to keep them warm. Despite Corosaunt being a mostly city planet it still got frigid at times.

"It was right after the war had ended, literally 10 mins had past. Me and all your uncles were all still on duty, I was on patrol when I heard the news" He explained, both pairs of eyes wide open with curiosity. The two of them silent and eagerly waiting for the story. Thire prided himself on being one of the best story tellers.

"At first...I was scared" Lilla gasped.

"Daddy! You? You never get scared! You always chase the bad guys away! And the monsters under my bed!" The little girl protested. Her Daddy was the bravest hero ever! He was never afraid. Owet nodded in agreement.

"Yes I do chase them away! But sometimes even the bravest heros get scared" Thire laughed, squeezing his little girl close, she then laid her head on his shoulder and looked up at him.

"So there I was, on a speeder at the end of the war, the war that created me and all your uncles. And I was scared, I didn't know what was gonna happen next. Before the war ended I knew what my purpose was. But then I realized that since the end had come, I could go get things I had never been able to reach before" Thire explained, "And I remembered this girl..."

"Mommy! Its Mommy right!?"

"Shush Lilla! He's telling a story!" Owet scolded. Thire laughed and quieted them.

"I remembered the girl who worked at this very diner" he explained, pointing up at the building, "I fell head over heels the first time I saw her, and I made sure to always come by to see how she was. But I never had the guts to talk to her, I had a duty to the Republic. But for the three years I was on guard, Id always come past here to see her."

"So what did you do?" Thire grinned at his boy.

"After I had heard about the war I came straight here, and I saw her. Right in this window" he whispered. He looked up and it was almost like he was replaying the memory as it happened.

A younger Thire standing outside of a diner, staring at a young waitress. He shook his head and looked at the chronometer on his gauntlet.

"Okay, 20 seconds of insane courage" He whispered to himself. And he grasped the metal handle.

"I walked in the door and there she was, she was talking to a customer so she hadn't seen me" Thire explained, walking the children through his movements.

The young Thire fumbles to take off his helmet and props it up on his hip.

"I was so nervous, I was fidgeting and twitching and I, believe it or not. Your suave dad dropped his helmet in front of this unbelievably gorgeous girl" the kids giggled at the idea. Thire tickling and teasing them as he went on.

Thire quickly stoops to pick up his helmet and when he stands he's staring right into your eyes. And they were so stunning, and it wasn't the color or shape that made them so amazing. It was the emotion that she held in them. Her eyes, they felt like home. He was just so awestruck by actually seeing her, standing right in front of him. Not just a glace while he rides a speeder past or a longing stare if he saw her out and about with friends. She was really here, right in front of him. Stained apron tied around her waist, hair tied back and away from her face. Her smiled at him so...genuinely. And after a few minutes he realized he had to say something because he was just staring.

"What did you say Daddy?"

"I said..."

Thire adjusts the collar of his blacks and gulps before returning his eyes to yours. Heart pounding so loud in his chest, he hoped and prayed you couldnt hear how it was banging against his ribcage. If any of the Guard were called because Thire had a heart attack because of a girl, he'd never hear the end of it. He felt a bead of cold sweat slide down his temple. He's got 15 seconds left.

"You are the most breathtaking women that I have ever seen..." Thire trailed off, he fidgeted and ran his thumb over the lip of his helmet "I have been dreaming of talking to you, but I've never had the courage to before. And I was wondering..."

He stopped, heart rattling against his ribcage. Deep breaths, don't rush it out.

"I was wondering if there was even a shred of a chance that a beautiful girl like you, would ever go on a date with a guy like me?"

Lilla tugged on Thires had again to bring him down to her level. Her face beaming at the story with her mother's smile. Owet squeezed his hand and waited patiently, watching his dads reaction.

"What happened next!"

Thire chuckled and looked at Lilla, he cupped her face and ran his thumb across her cheek. He turned to Owet to ruffle his hair.

"She said-"

"I said yes"

The trio turned to see the beautiful woman in question behind them, leaning on a pillar. Still as beautiful as all those years ago when Thire first saw you.

"Mommy!"

"Mom!"

Both kids squealed and ran to give you hugs. You scooped up Lila and pressed a kiss to Owet's head. Thire then comes and steals a kiss.

"And the rest is history" Thire finishes his story. The two of you just watched each other for a while, a loving gaze. You smiled at Thire before bouncing Lilla in your arms.

"You guys came all the way to my Dad's diner to hear that story?" You questioned, tickling Owet lightly.

"Best way to learn something is to see it, why dont we grab dinner here?" Thire asked before leading you to your booth. The booth where the two of you shared your first kiss. Where Thire met your parents. And where he proposed to you, on a cold and rainy night. He had wanted that day to be perfectly romantic, but the weather disagreed. So you settled for eating at your Dad's diner after it had closed. Dancing in the light of a datapad playing soft music before Thire got down on one knee and made you the happiest woman alive.

The two of you sat in the round plastic covered seating, Lila and Owet chatting happily.

"They're amazing" Thire hummed, slinging a arm around your shoulder and sinking down into the seat. He smiled as the kids made people out of straw wrappers and the forks on the table. They made silly voices and pretended to recreate one of their fathers war stories of him and his brothers. Lilla and Owet leaning across the table to play together.

"They really are arent they?" You smile leaning into Thire's embrace, you sweetly kiss his cheek before looking at him again.

"Guess its a good thing we're having another" you grin, and then laugh at Thire's bug eyed reaction. Thire tugged you in for a deeper kiss, mutter sweet nothings into it.

Yeah, this family is amazing.

[rons-hermiones]

Come Find Me

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Thirty One

“They’re dead.” Neville tells Harry, voice riddled with fear and sadness. 

Any pretenses of worrying about waking Ron fly out the window, “Dead? Who's dead? What is that?” He fires off, noticing the parchment in his hand. 

“Hediwg, she came, I’m sorry Harry, I shouldn’t have opened it. You and Ron were gone and I thought maybe it was about Brimblehawk. It was marked urgent I just-” 

“Neville, who is it?” He steps closer, his eyes already glossed over. 

“I-I’m sorry. Maybe if we h-had-” he starts emotionally. 

Harry grips his shoulders and shakes him, “please.” he begs. 

“The Granger’s. They’re dead.” 

At the words Harry falls to the floor, taking Neville with him. 

He didn’t know Hugo and Jean Granger very well, but these were Hermione’s parents. They gave him his best friend. And if she ever came back nothing, nothing, would ever be the same. 

“Oh Merlin. No!” He cried out, “We should’ve done more.” He whimpered, clutching onto Neville for dear life. 

Tears were now streaking Neville’s cheeks as well, “I know Harry, I know.” He cried. 

They stayed like that for a while on the floor. Eventually, Harry calmed enough to ask about the letter Hedwig brought that held the news. 

“Bill sent it. It didn’t say much, just that they were dead and that he’d be here in the morning.” He explained, holding up the parchment. It was indeed only two sentences long, “It was five when I heard the owl, I reckon he’ll be around soon. Do his parents know about…” Neville trailed, eyeing the bed. 

The Chosen One sniffled before wiping his nose with his sleeve, “He’s seventeen now so he gets to decide if his parents know or not. Since he wasn’t exactly, you know, conscious, I owled them for him. He’d want them to know. I used Madam Pomfrey’s owl. I doubt it's as fast as Hedwig’s but it should’ve reached Devon by now.” Harry answers. 

Finally collecting himself a bit more, Harry stands up, hovering over Ron’s sleeping form. 

“He’ll lose it.” He whispered after a few minutes of silence. 

Neville soon joined his side, “I know.” 

“He’ll blame himself. If he sees Hermione again, he’ll tell her it was his fault. It’s not.” Harry says, voice becoming more strangled. 

“I know that. We all do. Hermione will too.” He responds, gripping the dark haired boy's shoulder and giving him a squeeze. 

“Dumbledore must know by now, he’s got to.” Potter said surely, turning to face Neville under his grasp. 

Neville shrugged, “I’d assume, but what difference does it make?” He said weakly. 

“I wanna know how. And I wanna know who.” He said with a fire in his eyes. 

The other boy could sense as much and made a move to ease him. The last thing anyone needed was a raging Harry and a raging Ron. “There’s something else.” Neville whispered. 

At his words, Harry instantly softened, sensing the seriousness in his tone. 

He braced himself for what was to come next. 

“It wasn’t really Hediwg that woke me up.” At this Harry’s eyes squinted in confusion as Neville sighed, “Fred and Geroge’s owl, it was the one pecking at the window. They talked to Brimblehawk, they know where that place is, with the chandelier.” 

“W-what?” He breathed, never did he think their plan would ever amount to anything, but he hoped it would. More than anything. 

“Harry, when Bill comes today we need to tell him what we know. I know before you and Ron didn’t want to start anything or were scared they’d move her, but I reckon it's now or never.” He pauses, “no matter what happens next, nothing will ever be the same.”

Slowly, but surely, Harry nodded in agreement. The Grangers were gone. It felt like the worst had happened, but he knew deep down, there was potential for worse. 

Who would be next? A Weasley? Neville? Lupin? Hermione herself? 

No. 

No. Harry was through playing this waiting game. It was time Hermione came home, or what’s left of it anyway. 

“Harry?” Neville broke his daze. 

“You’re right.” He confirmed, “I just hope Ron’s awake to help. I want Hermione back more than I think I’ve ever wanted anything, but Ron, it’s like-it’s like it's killing him.” The Boy-Who-Lived whispered. 

“We’ll get her back, Harry. We need her.” 

At this very moment Ron groaned in his sleep, head falling to his other shoulder. Instantly, Harry felt the need to pull the blanket around his best mate tighter. Let him feel protected from the real world for just a little bit longer. 

“You need to come back soon Ron.” Harry whispered low enough that Neville wouldn’t hear. 

He felt Neville’s eyes burning into his back as he watched the scene. Stepping away, Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, “you never told me where she is.” He says, voice cracking, “Hermione.” He adds. 

“Wiltshire.” He responds, “A place called Malfoy Manor.” 

Harry’s entire body erupts with chills. 

... 

It wasn’t until two hours later, around seven in the morning, that Ron began to regain consciousness. 

He opened his blue eyes, doing his best to adjust to the harsh light in the room. 

Everything around him was a blur, he moved his hand to rub at his eyes, but found it to be very weak.  After blinking a few times, it seemed to do the trick as the world became clearer. 

This was not his dormitory. 

Why the fuck was he in the hospital wing? 

“Merlin, you’re alright.” He heard Harry breathe from nearby, though he sounded underwater. 

Suddenly, everything came back to him like a rush of cold water flooding his veins. 

Birthday. Chocolate Cauldrons. Romilda Bloody Vane. Slughorn. Meade. Hermione…

“M fine.” He croaks, trying to sit up. 

Harry gently pushes his shoulders down, “I wouldn’t do that. Neville’s gone to get Madame Pomfrey to give you some potions that’ll sort you out. Though, I imagine she’ll be livid, we aren’t supposed to be here this early.” 

It’s true. Madam Pomfrey shooed him away last night, but he simply returned to his dorm, nicked his invisibility cloak, and came back. 

Neville’s presence was a bit harder to explain. 

“Since you’re technically of age, your parents didn’t have to be informed, but I owled them last night. They’ll be along soon with Bill, I reckon.” He let’s slip. 

Ron could sense his best mates unease. Not only that, but why the hell would Bill be popping in if his Mum and Dad were? Something was a little off. 

“Bill?” He questioned. 

Harry’s mouth flopped open and closed like a fish’s would, before Madame Pomfrey came to the rescue.

Well, sort of. 

“Mr. Potter! Visiting hours do not begin until eight o’clock! You and Mr. Longbottom will be dealt with accordingly after I sort out my patient here! Little regard for following rules. Just like your fathers.” She tutted the last sentence under her breath as she moved to Ron’s side, leaving a blushing Neville in her wake. 

The matron picked up a glass vile and slowly tipped the thick potion past Ron’s lips. 

“Now Mr. Weasley, the bezoar seemed to do wonders for you. Most of the poison has been flushed from your system, but there are still trace amounts present. You’ll be on a few potions the next few days to get you fit as a fiddle. You may feel tired or get aches, but any symptoms besides  those you must alert me, understand?” 

Ron just nodded in response, swallowing the terrible tasting liquid as she spoke. 

“Now how is your knee?” She asked next. 

He thought about it for a moment, but any pain within that region didn’t register, “My knee?” He questioned. 

Harry shifted uncomfortably at Ron’s ignorance, as Neville flushed a bit, seeming to have realized where this was going. 

Madame Pomfrey nodded, “yes you’ve been whining about it since last night. I did a full body scan and there’s no internal injuries to it, maybe just sore?” She thought aloud. 

“My knee.” He repeated to himself, now understanding that he was not groaning about a pain in his leg, but rather, his Mione. 

“Oh, uh,” he began nervously, but cleared his throat, “yes, it’s feeling better now, thank you.” Ron said quickly, red as his hair and avoiding both of his friends' eyes. 

“Excellent. You rest.” She then turned to look over Harry and Neville for a few moments, both squirmed under her gaze. “I’ll allow Misters Potter and Longbotton to stay. The headmaster was quite insistent that Mr. Potter be present for when your family arrives.” 

“Harry?” Ron said aloud, again, getting the feeling something bigger was going on. 

The nurse nodded, “yes. I’ve been told your parents and brothers will be joining us too. I know how the twins can be, but you must remain on bed rest, do not work yourself up.” She reiterated. 

“The twins?” Now he was really confused. He’s almost positive his Mum wouldn’t allow the two of them to see him in this state if she knew how well, weak, he was. Ron didn’t need any added troubles. 

“That’s what I said Mr. Weasley. Someone will also be waking your sister soon I’m sure. I’ve been told William will also be joining at Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore’s insistence.” 

“Did they say why?” He asked next, knowing he wouldn’t get anywhere with Harry, but maybe Madam Pomfrey knew differently. 

“No, but I’m sure your family is just concerned. The Weasley’s have always been a tight bunch.” 

And that’s true! But ever since everything happened during Christmas holiday, Mum, like Dumbledore, has been very adamant that no one draw any attention. To carry on as they were. 

Surely over half of the Weasley clan coming to Hogwarts to speak with Dumbledore would draw suspicions.

And right under Snape and Malfoys nose, no less. 

“Now I must go finish filing your report for the archives. I’ll be back soon with your hourly potion.” She walked to her office before stopping, “stay put.” Madame Pomfrey warned. 

Once she disappeared, Ron was given a second to take in Neville and Harry. Both had bloodshot eyes. Harry was biting the edge of his nails as Neville twisted a piece of parchment in his shaking hands. 

Ron was awake, he was okay, so what were they so worked up for? 

“There’s something else.” He whispered, but the pair heard. 

“Ron-“ Harry began. 

Before he could finish, the hospital wing doors flew open, revealing a mass of red hair, along with Dumbledore and McGonagall not far behind. 

“Ronnie!” His Mum cried out, racing over to his bed and giving him a hug. 

He did his best to respond, but found his limbs feeling heavy, “I’m okay Mum.” He whispered. 

Over her shoulder, he didn’t fail to notice the crowd that came in. And any doubts that something bigger was going on was all but confirmed by the looks on their faces. 

Sure, they were all relieved Ron was alright, but they were not jumping for joy like he suspected. 

Like his Mum, Ginny was crying. Something he hasn’t seen her do in years, save for Christmas. 

Bill was anxiously shifting his weight between his feet, something he got scolded for when he was younger as a nervous habit. 

His father looked solemn. They exchanged a brief nod, but Arthur couldn’t bring himself to smile at his son. Not when he’d have to break his heart all over again. 

The twins weren’t laughing. They weren’t smiling. They weren’t joking. They were stiff, serious, stoic, three words he would never associate with them. 

McGonagall herself looked a little misty eyed as she fiddled with her robes’ sleeves. 

Dumbledore also had an indescribable air of sadness around him. Ron couldn’t put it into words, he could feel it. 

“It’s Hermione, isn't it.” He spoke to the room. He just knew. 

They all exchanged nervous glances, no one knew what to say. 

“Not exactly.” Dumbledore answered, stepping through the Weasley’s to be right at Ron’s bedside. “I’m glad to see you well Ronald.” 

He couldn’t help but scoff, “cheers.” 

“Ronald Billius! You ought to treat Albus with respect. We are all very happy you are alright, you should be too!” His Mum called from his fathers embrace. 

“I am.” He said softer, “but that doesn’t mean I need to be treated like a kid. I feel fine. A little tired, but I am fine. So someone now please tell me what in the bloody hell is going on.” He grunted. 

Molly again made a move to scold her son, but Dumbledore dismissed her with a wave of his hand. 

“Can’t put anything past you can we Ronald? That’s an Auror’s trait if I’ve ever come to know one.” He commented, almost like he knew that was Ron’s dream. 

Well, he probably did know somehow. This was after all Albus Dumbledore. 

“Uh thanks.” The ginger said a little impatiently. On any other day he might’ve flushed at the compliment and thanked his headmaster. Right now, he couldn’t bring himself to. 

Harry can’t let this go on any longer. He just physically cannot allow another moment to pass with Ron laying there, the truth just within arms reach. 

“The Grangers are dead.” He said it quickly and lowly. 

Though everyone, save for Ron, knew the news, all eyes still snapped to Harry in awe at his bluntness. 

Ron made a move to sit up and this time no one made a move to stop him. They simply watched as his eyes widened in a painstaking state of shock. 

“No.” Was all he managed. He couldn’t believe it. 

“Son, I’m so sorry-“ Arthur began, stepping forward. 

“You promised.” He gritted to his father. 

“Ron-“ the old man protested. 

“You promised!” He yelled, voice so riddled with anguish. “You said someone went. That they put up wards.” 

“They did son, I promise you. Someone from The Order was sent, but I’m afraid the wards weren’t casted by someone with Dumbledore’s caliber of magic. They didn’t stand a chance against her.” Mr. Weasley explained, voice almost as strained as his sons. 

“S-she?” He didn’t realize he was crying until he felt a tear drop land on his knuckles. 

“We can’t be positive, but the work matches-“ 

“Bellatrix.” Ron spat angrily. 

He didn’t need to see his father nod in confirmation to know he was right. 

“This isn’t right. None of this is right. She needs to answer for what she’s done to Hermione, to her parents!” His voice was rising again. Anger was easier than the guilt pounding its way into his chest. 

“It’s not that easy Ron, if it were-“ This time it was Bill who spoke. 

“I don’t give a bloody fuck what’s easy and what’s not! This is Hermione we’re talking about, that-that was her family. So when she comes home, she won’t even have a home to get back to! You do realize how fucking preventable this entire thing was? So far The Order has been nothing but fuck up.” He seethed. 

“I understand you’re upset Ronnie, but you know we’re doing all that can be done.” Molly interjected softly. 

“No you’re not!” He protested. 

“Oh yeah? And what have you been doing? Beating up Cormac McLaggen? Getting yourself poisoned?” Bill retorted, not liking his brother's attitude, pain or not. 

“William!” His Mum scolded. 

Ron ignored him, “you can bet your arse I’ve been doing a lot more than planning a fucking wedding!” 

This seemed to set Bill off, “don’t get pissy with me just because I have Fleur and Hermione is-“ 

Whatever he was going to say, no one would ever come to find out. 

Ron summoned all his strength and latched roughly onto one of his eldest brother's wrists. Enough to surely bruise. 

“Don’t you dare finish whatever the hell you’re about to say.” 

At this Bill relented, he knew he was out of line, but letting emotions get the better of you surely was a Weasley trait. 

“He is right Bill.” Fred broke from his place in the corner. 

Ron’s brow scrunched in confusion at his brother's words, but his curiosity only grew as he watched Fred and Harry exchange a nod. 

“What?” Bill voices exactly what Ron’s thinking. 

“I reckon Harry, Ronnie, and Neville have done more than The Order has.” Fred then turns ro McGonagall and Dumbledore, “no offense.” 

“Mr. Weasley, need I remind you that certain things are not to be brought up in the presence of others?” McGonagall scathes, eyes flicking to Neville. 

“He knows Professor.” Harry states. 

“Mr. Potter-“

“I didn’t tell him. He figured it out.” 

At this, the old woman looked relieved and maybe even a little proud. 

“He’s Hermione’s friend too.” Ron added, certainly more calm then the last time he spoke. 

“Plus, according to a letter Fred and I received a few days ago, without Neville’s help we wouldn’t know where Hermione is.” George told the room. 

At this everyone grew shocked, no one more so than Ron. 

“I-it worked?” He stuttered, not able to believe it himself. 

“We have the closest apparition point here.” Fred pulled out a piece of parchment from his pocket before handing it off to Dumbledore. 

He eyed it for a moment before realization struck, “Wiltshire?” Ron swears he hears fear in his tone. 

“I’m afraid I’ll need to be filled in.” McGonagall spoke up. 

“You and I both Minerva.” The old man agreed, though his voice faltered the slightest. 

“I think I’m the reason Hermione’s parents are dead.” Harry piped up. 

“Harry, no.” Ron shook his head, pushing himself upright. 

“He-he told her that someone would die if she spoke to me again and…” he trailed, feeling a bile rise in his throat. 

“You spoke to Hermione?” Ginny questioned. 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you Professor, I just thought- we just-” Harry was growing hysterical. 

“Calm yourself Harry, you can ease my mind by explaining what instance you are referring to.” He encouraged, voice soft. 

Slowly, the Chosen One nodded, “that-that night she was taken, I collapsed, do you remember?” He asked to no one in particular, yet everyone nodded. “Well it happened again, the same night. It was him and he h-had Hermione.” He took a deep breath, “she s-spoke to me through him, it made him mad, r-really mad. He told her if she did it again someone would, someone would d-die.” Like Ron, tears found their way down his cheeks. 

“I don’t follow Mr. Potter. If this all happened at Christmas then why would he wait?” McGonagall couldn’t help but question. 

“Because it happened again. A few days ago.” 

A few gasps echoed in the empty wing. 

“Even before everything, I had my suspicions about Draco Malfoy.” He eyed Dumbledore carefully as he said this, but the old man showed little emotion. “Hermione and Ron thought I was barmy, but then Ron started seeing it too.” 

All eyes soon fell on the bed ridden boy, silently demanding an explanation. 

“Mr. Weasley?” Albus encouraged. 

“It started on the train I reckon, Malfoy, he well bumped into me and apologized. He seemed, I dunno- sorry? But for a lot more than that.” Knowing this wasn't a satisfying explanation he continued, “then he told Katie Bell Hermione was away for a family emergency so she couldn’t fulfill her prefect duties and there was just no way he’d know she was gone. We weren’t even at Hogwarts when he said it.” 

“I see.” Dumbledore said, pursing his lips. 

Ron continued anyway, “Then I had these dreams, really bizarre dreams about Malfoy telling me he knew where they were keeping Hermione. It sounds mental, but I just knew there was something more to it.” 

Harry jumped back in, “When Hermione was able to get through to me, the only thing she said was ‘Malfoy’, that’s when I knew it was more.” The dark haired boy ignored all the astound faces and pressed on, “so we broke into his dorm.” He admitted, eyeing his professors cautiously. 

Thankfully, neither had the heart to scold him at the moment, both too invested in the story. The twins even took a moment to exchange a small smirk. 

“In his room we found a picture. The picture had the same chandelier I saw on Christmas when I first felt him with Hermione.” Harry finished. 

“And I recognized the picture from being in The Prophet and Neville, he recognized the photographer's name.” Ron supplied weakly. 

All eyes then turned to the third boy, “Balthasar Bartolo Brimblehawk. He was a big-“ 

“Wartime photographer.” Bill breathed from his spot. 

Neville nodded, “yeah and he’s got a place in Diagon Alley.” Next all eyes fell on the twins.  

George cleared his throat, eyes locking with Ron, knowing his brother was unconscious when their owl arrived. “Didn’t want to talk to us, not at first anyway. We told him we were sent from The Order and he seemed interested, but not enough to let us in.” 

“Then we told him it was a favor for Augusta Longbottom’s grandson and that’s when he cracked.” Fred jumped in. 

“Don’t tell me you-“ McGonagall began, clearly ready to chasistize the boys for disclosing private information. 

“No.” Fred promised, knowing where she was going, “the second we picked up the photo and asked where it was he wrote it for us. No questions asked.” 

“I reckon he knows exactly what goes down there.” George gulped. 

The room fell silent for a moment until the crinkling of parchment cracked it. 

“So this is where Miss Granger is?” Dumbledore asked, holding up the offending piece.

Harry shrugged, “makes the most sense.” 

“Why hadn’t anyone thought of them earlier?” Ron’s cracked voice asked. 

“Estates like the Malfoy’s and the Lestrange’s are some of the wizarding world’s best kept secrets. Furthermore, we had no reason to suspect the Malfoy’s involvement, not with this anyway. Sources said they had much bigger things going on.” Dumbledore said cryptially, not willing to reveal what Severus told him at the start of term. 

And thankfully, no one questioned it, too focused on Hermione. 

“What now?” Bill asked. 

Everyone turned to the headmaster, knowing he was the one to call the shots. However, the old man's attention was fully on Ron. 

“I believe that Miss Granger has been departed from us for far too long.” Albus watched as the bed ridden ginger’s eyes glossed over. He then turned to Ginny, “Miss Wealsey, why don’t you and Mr. Longbottom make way to the Great Hall for breakfast. Bring some back for Mr. Potter too.” He suggested. 

Though they both wanted to fight to stay, they complied, knowing Dumbledore knew what he was doing, “alright. We’ll be back soon.” Ginny said, pulling Neville with her. 

“As for the rest of you Weasley’s, please join me in my office. I do believe we have a great deal of planning ahead of us, yes?” At his words, Molly let tears streak her cheeks as she let Arthur guide her to the door. 

“Minerva, please summon The Order, we shall meet tonight.” Dumbledore said as she too vacated the room. 

Leaving just Harry, Ron, and the old professor, he turned to the bed, “I hope the next time we see each other I can offer you more than just my condolences. Please rest Ronald.” 

With that, he exited the wing as his robes billowed behind him. 

Weakly, Ron attempted to call out but failed. Part of him was overwhelmed and frustrated at not being involved in the planning. This was Hermione after all. 

Another part wanted to sob in relief at the prospect of her coming back to him. Not willing to let himself dwell on her condition. 

However, he could do neither. Not when his stomach was churning terribly as the news of the Grangers death began to settle with him. 

“I promised them.” Is all he said, round, watery eyes finding Harry’s. 

The dark haired boy knew he was on the verge of hysterics. 

“I promised her parents they’d see her again. How am I ever going to-“ he allowed himself to collapse onto his best mate. 

Harry held Ron tightly. Assuring him it wasn’t his fault as he felt his body shake with sobs. 

And maybe from the emotional drain or maybe from the after effects of his poisoning, exhaustion took over as he fell asleep, still in Harry’s embrace. 

It wasn’t until Ron’s breathing evened out did the Boy-Who-Lived spoke, “and I promise you, we will bring Hermione home.” 

[propertyofwicked]

Could you do an a-z of dating Tom Blake pls??

ty for the request, i hope this is ok x :)

a-z of dating tom blake

obviously, we’re going to pretend THAT scene doesn’t happen and he just ends up with a tiny surgery nd some stitches :)

warnings: slight sexual references but only like twice lol

a - argue

tom is STUBBORN. that boy will be so wrong yet will be adamant he is correct till physically proven otherwise. this was usually the start of arguments. you too are stubborn, but not to the extent of tom. any argument results in tom going for a walk around the town, to let out all of his pent up anger as he couldn’t bare to shout at you for something so petty. you’d sit in the living room silently, waiting for him to return, which gave you time to think about what to say. once he did come back, he’d sit on the sofa next to you, and take your hands in his, and you’d talk through the problem rationally. since the war, he would get angrier much quicker, the smallest things being able to send him over the edge, so he’d take the time to apologise, as would you, and he’d show you how much he loves you ;)

b - body (his favourite body part of yours)

thomas blake is an ass man. any time he can have his hands on your lower back, resting on your arse - he would. he loves to walk behind you, just to show his appreciation for your curves and whenever he’d stand next to you, his hand would be on your arse squeezing it playfully when nobody is looking. 

c - care (caring for each other when you’re sick)

tom likes to pretend he is tough and no illness can beat him, and because of this, he will work himself to the bone instead of resting. he’d wake up in the morning, his voice deeper than ever as a cough tickled his throat. as much as he tries to hide it, the moment you notice, he’s back in bed with a cup of tea on the bedside table. when you’re ill, however, tom takes the day off work and just lays in bed with you day, not caring if he got ill as well - as long as you were content. 

d - dates (what do you guys do?)

you and tom would have really basic dates, enjoying each other more than an expensive meal. often, in the summer months, you’d walk down to the river and have a picnic, or sometimes you’d lay down in his mother’s orchid, watching the petals fall around you. it doesn’t matter what you do, as long as you’re together. 

e - engagements (how he proposed) 

it would be just dropped into a conversation, nothing fancy and very unprepared in true thomas fashion. like you could just be laying in bed, or cooking dinner and he’d look at you and go “hey, should we get married” and very casually you’d just reply “yeah sure” before realising he was serious and falling into his arms to give him the biggest hug you could. it just so happened he had his grandmother’s ring in his possession so he just used that.

f - friends and family (do they like you/him?)

his family ADORE you. his brother likes you, as you were raised intelligent and could have a good conversation with him - you were also a prime babysitter for him and his wife. his mum loves to finally have a girl tom’s age around, as she had spent 30 years being in an all-male household other than herself. your dad was wary around him towards the start of your relationship, but he soon welcomed him into the family after tom had helped him fix a bookcase. your mum was glad to finally see you happy, glad you’d managed to be comfortably settled down from a young age. since you lived a while away from each other's families, your friends from home never really knew your partner.

g - gifts

you guys are not terribly poor but you’re also not the richest, so surprise presents were fairly rare. whenever tom went home to visit his family, he’d return with a cake baked specially from his mother. sometimes he’d return from work, hiding something behind his back, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face and after asking him what he was hiding, he’d produce flowers that he got on the cheap from the market on his way home. 

h - how you met

you worked as a nurse in the war, so when tom was carried in, blood pouring from his abdomen, it was your job to take care of him. something in you nagged at you to accompany him the furthest you could, which is how you ended up in a base hospital tending to this soldier. over the months he was in your care, you got to know each other well, and promised to keep in contact when you returned home. 

i - intimacy (how often are yall getting down)

thomas blake has the stamina of a KING. he is ready to go to town every night and every morning for as long as you can manage - and the look he gave you before was enough to give in almost every night. 

j - jealousy

tom gets jealous of the relationship between you and his brother. he felt as if he had also been in his shadow, the younger, less handsome brother. it was obvious when he got like this because he’d go quiet, unlike his usual joking self. you didn’t tend to get overly jealous, as you could tell tom was whipped for you and barely batted an eye at anyone else. 

k - kinks

tom has a lowkey breeding kink i reckon, not like 40 kids kinda kink, but he loves the idea of getting you pregnant and seeing you carry his children and raise them. having grown up in a loving family, he wants nothing more than to have one for himself. 

l - long distance

whilst you were both away at war, you tended to be in various areas of france. the only contact you had was letters, where he’d tell you about his day or some funny story he witnessed or overheard. you told him of the wounds you saw, as it was the only way you could really pass them through your mind so they didn’t haunt you forever. it was the best part of the week, receiving letters from tom and he felt the exact same when the post came by and a letter with his name in your handwriting was handed to him. 

m - moving in

you moved in together at the end of the war, in your correspondence, when the days got long and boring, the only thing you could talk about was the future - where you’d live, how the living room would be arranged. it was more optimistic that truthful but when the war ended and you met again, you both knew it was something you had to do. tom was so glad he could live with someone who had witnessed the same pain and distraught he had and you were so glad that you both had each other in the hard nights. 

n - nights out 

you’re not much of a party go-er yourself, much rather preferring to listen to the music on the record player. sometimes, you and tom would go out dancing with scho and his wife but it was fairly rare. 

o - open with each other

the mutual experiences of the war allowed you two to be so open with each other. if there was anything on your mind, something you couldn’t get off your chest, you knew that you could tell tom and even if he couldn’t get rid of it, he’d make it so much better. tom often had nightmares of the day he got injured and every time he woke up in fits of sweats, you would be there to listen to him and tell him how everything was going to be better. 

p - pda

you two aren’t over the top in public but often are reminded with a sly cough from will that you were in fact, in full view of everyone. tom can’t keep his hands of you most of the time, grabbing your arse at any possible chance he got. you prefer to be more cute with your affection, taking his hand when walking down the street or pecking his cheek randomly. 

q - questions (what you talk about late at night?)

as mentioned before, you guys normally talk about the war. it makes it so much easier to cope with the horrors that loom over you like a shadow. sharing the experience allowed you both to cope with your own thoughts a lot better.

r - reproduction (do you want kids?)

Y E S. tom wants a house full of miniature versions of him, and it is something he discusses with you often. you want whatever tom wants pretty much, and having a product of the love you shared was a dream of yours. 

s - surprising (what surprised you about him)

he’s very affectionate when he’s sad. rather than bottling up, tom knows how to talk about his problems really openly with you and he’s not afraid to show emotion. 

t - together (what you do together)

towards the start of your relationship, after the war, you two would go on cute dates in the forest or on the river bank almost weekly, but you now you guys prefer to stay home and make use of that bedroom ;)

u - under the influence (drunk vibes)

tom is even funnier when he’s drunk. he comes home from a night out with will and some other friends and just sits, staring at you. every 5 minutes or so he’d mumble something along the lines of “you’re gorgeous - do you have a boyfriend?”. it was cute to start with but by t eh fifth time, you're laying him down on the bed and trying to lul him to sleep.

v - vacations

tom likes to go to cornwall with you. it’s where he frequently went on holidays as a child, and he loves to take you to the places he visited in his youth. 

w - wedding

you guys have a small wedding, just in the church near your house. you couldn’t afford a massive wedding and you didn’t really want one. so you held the ceremony with your families and your closest friends and chose to spend the reception at your house, listening to music on the record player and having a roast dinner. 

x - xray (when he’s hurt)

obviously, you had cared from him in the war, but sometimes the scar on his stomach would cause him pain if he moved it in the wrong way. there wasn’t much you could do, but you would lay with him and comfort him, or bring him medicine with his food. 

y - you (a random headcanon) 

“tom have you seen my glasses anywhere?” you called out to the house, hoping and an extra set of eyes could help.

“no, sorry! where did you last see them?” he called back.

“i can’t remember. they were here one moment then the next they weren’t” you trailed off as tom made his way into the kitchen. he took one glance at you, then burst into laughter, leaving you standing there in confusion.

“what? what are you laughing at?”

“baby, have you checked the top of your head?”

“oh my god!” you said, realising they had been there the whole time, your face going a new shade of red in embarrassment.

“awh bless, you really do need glasses,” tom smiled coming over to you, taking you in his arms.  his lips pressed to your head in a quick peck before he walked back to where he had been sat before. 

z - zzzzzzzzzzzz’s (sleeping routine)

you’re usually in bed first, choosing to read a book before packing in for the night. tom would stay downstairs longer, reading the paper or going for a shower. but when he did come upstairs, he’d just stand in the door frame and gaze upon you, like he had never seen something so angelic. once he got into bed, you’d mark the page and close the book, leaning into his side and his arm moving to wrap around you. 

[calif0rnia-lovers]

High Expectations: Young!Mayans

Part I: Veronica, not Ronnie

Pairing: Angel Reyes x OC (Ronnie Vargas)

Sarah Jeffery for Veronica Vargas

Santiago Segura as Young Angel

Summary: When he interjects himself into a dispute between Veronica and her ex-boyfriend, Ricardo, Angel lands them both in detention. All Ricardo can think about is kicking Angel’s ass next time he sees him. Veronica how the detention will look on her permanent record (Oxford wouldn’t really want to hear about her near-death, fightclub experience in her personal essay). Angel, he just wants to pass his midterms so he doesn’t get kicked off the team before the homecoming game. And to convince Veronica to attend the dance with him. According to his busted throwing hand, Angel may not have his priorities straight.

A/N: No one asked for Young Mayans but here is part one for Angel Reyes. Don’t try and tell me EZ Reyes was the only Reyes brother with dreams of a different future. I had so much fun writing this, so please let me know what you think

Words: 8K.

Angel knew from the moment his hand connected with Ricky’s nose he was fucked.

It hurt like shit.

Growing up in Santo Padre, Angel Reyes had participated in his fair share of fights. Many times they were over his younger brother, Ezekiel. Smart kids are always the target of bullies. Other times, Angel was defending himself and his slick remarks. Either way, Angel has punched enough people to tell when his hand was broken. 

Luckily, his hand wasn’t broken. Ricky’s nose was broken.

Although not broken, Angel’s hand was definitely going to fuck with his ability to throw a football for a couple of days. 

But Angel didn’t care.

See, Angel has never liked Ricardo Deza, despite the two of them being co-captains for the school Varsity football team. To be honest, 90% of the world doesn’t like Ricardo Deza. Since the moment he could speak, Ricardo has always talked to everyone as though they were lesser than the dirt on the bottom of his shoes. That’s the only way you know how to talk when your dad owns more than half of the city.

Usually, Angel just ignored the guy. But when he saw Veronica slap him, Angel knew there was going to be trouble. She couldn’t slap Ricardo Deza and not be put in her place. Especially when she does it in front of nearly half the football team, and senior class. 

Ricky has spent the last month complaining about Veronica, more than usual.

His usual complaint was that she wouldn’t sleep with him. Despite a year of dating, it never happened. Not for a lack of trying on Ricky’s part. Veronica Vargas has always been consistent, especially when her mind is made up. When Ricky tried to push her to the next level in the back seat of his car last month, she broke it off. Right then and there. And Ricky has been having trouble grasping that they’re no longer together, which means he can no longer tell her what to do.

He had waited for her outside of her AP Calculus class, catching her the second she stepped into the hallway. He had two homecoming tickets in tow.

Angel was busy opening his locker and his own business when Veronica made it to hers, just a few lockers down.

“I’m not sure how many times I have to say no before you get it, Ricardo,” Veronica had sighed as she concentrated on spinning her combination. “I’m not going to the homecoming dance. And, even if I was, I’m not going with you.”

“Babe, come on,” Ricky pouted, his shoulder resting against a nearby locker as she switched out her books. “I know you were trying to make a point. The point has been made. Stop being a bitch about it and just take the ticket. Take me off a timeout, or whatever it is you think you’re doing.”

Shutting her locker, Veronica gave Ricardo a smile.

“Sorry, Ricky,” she smiled, tucking her AP English book against her chest. “The answer is still no. Stop texting me about it, and showing up to my classes. It’s starting to look pathetic. Everyone knows we’re not together anymore. Why don’t you just ask one of the cheerleaders? I’m sure they’ll go with you, and might even let it hit in the backseat of your car since apparently, it’s deal-breaker for a real relationship when you can’t.”

Angel had seen Ricky reach for Veronica when she’d turned away. A few students had passed, diverting their gazes when Ricky’s hand bruisingly dug into the skin of her upper arm, and he yanked her body from the center of the hallway dragging it back towards her locker. A few more students stopped in their tracks, their conversations slowly dying out as he pressed her back against the locker his six feet easily blocking her from their view.

The initial shock of his actions had delayed Veronica’s reaction, her books falling from her arms in the process. But when his grip tightened, his face scrunching up in anger, as he hissed out her name she moved to yank away from him. Her act of defiance caused Ricky’s grip to painfully tighten. 

Her hand hit him before she realized what had happened. But the second his grip around her arm loosened she was shoving against his chest and stumbling sideways to wedge herself from between his body and her locker. 

She hadn’t even realized that Angel had stepped in, and diverted Ricky’s path until he was being pulled away to reveal a bloodied nosed Ricky doubling over. 

The events that followed had been a blur. 

Angel was carted off by members from the team. Ricky was taken to the nurse’s office. Veronica was taken to the principal’s office. But, instead of being asked to file an incident report she was given a pack of ice for her arm. She was also given a speech about how sometimes relationships get testy when emotions are involved. How that a “good boy” like Ricardo Deza sometimes has trouble when he doesn’t get his way, but that doesn’t mean he acted out of ill intent. Her favorite was the last line, that a broken nose should be good enough punishment for his mistakes. Not writing up a report that would hinder him from playing in the biggest game of the school’s football season. After his speech, the principal asked if she was okay and if she wanted to call her father.

Veronica was smart, she knew that if she called his office her father would ask two things. 

When did you break up with Ricardo Deza Sr.’s son?

What did you say to piss him off?

Not: 

Are you okay?

Stay put, I’ll be right there, I’ll handle this little shit.

The principal knew the same thing. So she declines the phone call and asks if she can go back to class in time for her AP English midterm review session. 

Her request is granted, but not after she is provided a pink detention slip.

Veronica goes through the rest of her day, trying her best to ignore the whispers and stares she gets in class and in the hallways. And when the final bell rings, instead of attending the weekly SGA meeting she heads to detention for the first time in her life.

Readjusting the strap of her backpack resting on her shoulder, Veronica slightly shakes her head. Never in a million years did she think she would ever be in room 230 after school.

Room 230, her AP Calculus classroom, moonlights as the after school detention center. 

As she takes in the nearly full room, Veronica still cannot shake the feeling that she was wrongly sent her. The pink slip, signed by her principal, would beg to differ.

“You going in, or what?”

Snapping out of her thoughts, Veronica takes a step through the doorway allowing the kid behind her to slip past and take a seat.

Mr. Riley, the gym teacher, is seated at the front of the room. With his feet resting atop the desk, he is focused on the laptop in his lap. Typing away, he doesn’t seem to care that no one has stopped to complete the sign-in sheet.

Veronica pauses before the desk. Clearing her throat, she offers up the pink slip. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Riley. I just wanted to make sure you knew I was here.” Her voice falters once he makes no move to look and see who is speaking to him. “Um, is there anything else I have to do besides sign in?”

Not bothering to glance away from his screen, Mr. Riley nods towards the desk.

“Drop it in the basket, and take a seat, Vargas.”

Dropping her pink slip inside the basket by his feet, Veronica turns to find all eyes in the room are on her. Most people just glance back down at their phones, a few smile and shake their heads. Spotting a seat in the back, she makes her way towards it.

She sets her bag down on the desk and takes out her planner.

Written on the board in chalk it reads. 

No passes. No talking. And no disturbing me. Leave at 4:30.

Nearly fifteen minutes have passed, when the classroom door opens. Veronica, like everyone else, glances away from her desk to watch Angel Reyes walk in.

Despite getting into a fight, he appears unscathed. Or affected by what took place. He dawns the same boyish grin that he does every time you see him.

He digs into his pocket, fished out his pink slip and tosses it into the basket by Riley’s feet.

“How’s it going, Riley?” He drops the rolled-up bag of food in his hand off at the desk. “Got you some fries today.”

Although he’s late, Riley doesn’t bother looking up. The only sign of acknowledgment is the thumbs-up he shoots in Angel’s direction.

Clearly, Angel’s being late to detention is a regular thing because no one else bothers to look at him past the quick exchange. 

He’s in the process of going to his seat when Angel sees Veronica. He had wondered if she’d get the same consequence as him, while Ricky was let off with a warning. He can’t help but smile once he realizes she’s the only one actually using detention to study.

The dark curls falling around her face are what captures his attention. He’s never seen them in this light. They’re usually pulled back, high in a neat ponytail. As he stares for a moment longer, Angel realizes that’s not the only thing out of place - apart from the projected valedictorian sitting in his usual seat. She is dressed in a maroon sweatshirt and a pair of jeans.

She had changed out of her dress from this morning, the sweatshirt she wore hiding the bruises left across her skin.

As if she could sense his gaze, Veronica blinks. Looking up, she meets a pair of familiar eyes. Eyes that tend to linger on her when she passes or responds to a question. Eyes that tend to find her in class when she thinks no one else is noticing her. 

Plastering a smile on her face, she gave him one before returning her attention to her textbook.

Instead of simply taking her quick acknowledgment and going about his merry way, like she hopes he will, Angel takes the seat in front of her. Heat rushes to Veronica’s face as Angel drops his backpack to the floor, before turning in his seat to face her.

“You must be taking a page out of my book, Ronnie.” 

Veronica doesn’t have to look up from her textbook to know that a cheeky grin is accompanying Angel’s words. So, she doesn’t.

“Clearly, you don’t think the rules apply to you,” she huffs. “But I’m not getting written up for talking when it clearly says on the board. No. Talking. I think I’ve had enough trouble for one day.”

Angel’s brow arches as he glances over his shoulder, his eyes moving to Mr. Riley who is still typing away on his laptop. 

“Riley?” He chuckles, returning his gaze to Veronica. “He’s not gonna write you up. He only puts that up there incase another teachers walk by.”

Instead of speaking, Veronica lifts her left hand and gives Angel a thumbs-up sign. He chuckles as she turns the page and continues reading. He watches her for a few seconds slightly impressed by how easily she has maintained focus. Most girls don’t, at least not when he’s involved.

Angel rests his arms against the back of his chair, silently observing her. After a few seconds, he releases a sigh of boredom before reaching forward.

“What are you looking at anyway?” He takes the book from Veronica’s hands, ignoring the wide eyes that lift to meet his. He starts to turn the book for a better look, but his swollen hand slows down the process allowing Veronica to halt his actions. 

Veronica glares at him, the sight of her nose scrunching pulling a smile to Angel’s lips. Ignoring his smile, she drags the book back across the desk.

"If you’re looking for gratitude, then here. Thank you for stepping in when no one asked you to. That’s all you’re getting from me. Nothing else. Now, turn and leave me alone, Reyes."

Angel smiles, as she redirects her attention back to her book. 

"You do know that's not actually my full name. Right?"

Angel watches her eyes briefly close, the soft breath she takes somehow making him smile. He knew she was getting irritated. He also knew that she was nearly as cute angry as she was any other time he saw her. 

"Really, you have it plastered across the back of your jersey. It's kind of hard not to notice when it’s all wear. Well, that and your letterman jacket." 

"If I knew you'd took that much notice, I'd put on something a little nicer for you," Angel smiles as her eyes meet his. "I figured you thought it was sexy, like the rest of the girls at this school, being as you date football players and all."

For a moment, Veronica doesn’t respond. As much as she’d hate to admit it, Angel was right. Veronica originally attended all of the football games because her younger sister was part of the cheerleading squad. Eventually, she began attending the games for Ricardo. You can’t date a football player and not attend the games. Even if you weren’t that big of a fan, to begin with. Even though she attended the games for Ricardo, she always noticed Angel. It’s hard not to notice Angel. He was just as cocky on the field as he was off of it. It drove Ricardo insane that Angel didn’t have to have his father buy his spot on the team. She finds her eyes taking him in for a moment. A heat warms her cheeks once she realizes he’s watching her as well.

She blinks, her gaze falling to the book. 

Yeah," she sighs. Leaning forward, she pushes his arms that have been resting on her desk away. "Well, you know what’s not sexy? Getting detention."

Angel smiles watching as she uses the now freed space to place her book back out flat across her desk. Leaning back over it, she focuses on the page. 

"I beg to differ.”

“Shocking” she huffs, not giving him the satisfaction of returning her gaze to his. 

Angel shrugs and leans forward. He rests his arms back on her desk, his action bringing him closer to her. 

“I think it’s pretty hot when a girl stands up for herself. Even if it means fucking up her squeaky clean record.” 

A heat rushes across Veronica’s skin as she rests her chin in the palm of her hand. She tries her best to ignore the words that have just come from the young man sitting across from her. But as she starts to re-read the sentence she realizes she can’t.

Despite having attended the same schools since primary, Angel and Veronica have never shared this many words in a single sitting. In fact, when they were younger the closet interactions Angel had with Veronica was being on the receiving end of her glares when he interrupted class with a joke or a smart comment. On occasion, he would get a subtle smile out of her when she thought he was actually being funny and not annoying. Or, he’d get a quick smile if she caught his eyes on her in passing. The most they would exchange in words was a “hey” or “thank you” when he managed to catch the door for her throughout the halls.

“Angel, I’m trying to study,” she whispers, her gaze briefly meeting his. 

“Why?” Angel chuckles as he watches her eyes widen.

“Because we have a European history midterm in two weeks.”

The emphasis Veronica places on midterm has no visible effect on Angel. Instead of reaching into his backpack to retrieve his own textbook, as she’d expected, Angel’s expression remains blank. As if he is waiting for her to add more pertinent information to her statement.

“..And…”

“Because we have a European midterm in two weeks,” Veronica speaks slowly this time, her brow furrowing as she searches his face for any sign of panic.

“Yeah, but you’re the smartest person I know,” Angel shrugs. "I mean, there’s also my little brother. Kid's a walking sponge."

The end of his statement causes her eyes to lift from the page, to find Angel’s face is mere inches away from hers. The closeness causes her to sit up straight. When she doesn't speak, Angel adds. 

"He's in eighth grade and a certified genius. I keep telling my parents to let him skip highschool. Send him off to college early." 

"The one who orders the double chocolate milkshakes?"

Nodding, Angel watches her attention return to the book. 

He's not surprised that she actually remembers Ezekiel. When their parents have to stay late at the shop, Angel takes Ezekiel to the team's favorite spot. Mary’s Diner. Angel isn’t allowed to leave Ezekiel at home alone unless he wants to risk death by his mother, so he carts him wherever he goes. Ezekiel sits at the counter, finishing homework while Angel jokes around with the team in their booths towards the back. 

Veronica is a waitress there. Not because her parents won’t give her money, but because she doesn’t want to take it.

There was one night when Ez found her studying on her break. He’d asked her what she was reading, and after her briefly explaining it to him he asked if he could read her book when she was finished. Now when he comes in, she provides him with the latest book from her AP English class.

"Are you going to talk to me the entire time, or let me study in peace?”

Innocently lifting his hands in the air, Angel watches as she mouths a thank you before returning her focus to her book.

Angel doesn’t say anything else to Veronica for the remaining hour and a half of detention. He starts on his English homework but isn’t able to get any close to finishing. Instead, his mind is on Veronica. 

When the bell rings, Veronica is already packed and is nearly out the door by the time Angel can shove his belongings in his backpack.

He quickly catches up with her, the smile on his face causing her eyes to roll.

“So I was thinking-”

“I’m late for work.” Turning the corner, Veronica causes Angel to nearly trip over his feet as he attempts to redirect his path. 

She heads to her locker. Concentrating on her combination, she ignores him as Angel rests against the locker beside hers.

Instead of speaking, he lets his eyes rest on her face. Her eyes briefly move to his a few times as she packs up her backpack.

“What?” She asks after a few moments of silence.

“So I was thinking-”

“So you said. About what?”

“Us.” Angel’s response causes Veronica’s eyes to roll. 

“There is no us, Reyes,” she laughs dryly. Retrieving her jacket from her locker she shoves it in her backpack. 

“Come on, Ronnie,” Angel smiles. “Sure there is. I nearly threw away my entire future defending your honor today.”

“Did you? First of all, noone asked you to defend my honor. I was doing perfectly fine. Second of all, everyone knows you hate Ricardo. You were probably just looking for an excuse to prove your dick is bigger than his. Isn’t that what you guys do?”

“I’m just saying, usually when a guy stands up for a girl-”

“What?” Veronica halts her actions. She focuses her attention on Angel, her eyes narrowing. “She lets him take her to the backseat of his car. Is that what is about?”

“Hey,” Angel shrugs, his smile causing her to roll her eyes. “Just remember, I’m not the one who suggested it. You did when you were projecting your misguided anger onto me-”

“Hm, okay.” Veronica scoffs.

“I pay attention in class, sometimes,” Angel grins. 

“Okay, well do me a favor. Leave me alone. Don’t try and play me like one of the bimbos on the cheerleading team-”

“Isn’t your sister a cheerleader?”

Angel’s quick tongue has always been enough to leave people flustered. It even trips up his mom at times, but his mother was used to it by now. Veronica was used to minding her own business. She never really found herself in situations like this. Maybe that’s why Angel’s response does leave her flustered. 

“That’s beside the point. You know what I mean. I’m not phased by the fact that you’re a captain of the football team.”

Angel disregards her previous statements, his eyes drop from hers. His smile and lingering gaze bring the heat to her cheeks.

“I’d like to see you swap out your jeans for your sister’s skirt one day. Maybe next week at Parker’s Halloween party. I could take you. Give you a ride-’

“I am not someone you can trick into the backseat of your car.” 

“That’s okay. I don’t trick girls into the backseat of my car. After a few minutes, they practically beg me to get in.”

“Oh, wow!”

Slamming her locker door shut, Veronica pays no attention to the strange glances floating her way. The only glance she can see is Angel’s. The cocky smirk on his face stroking the anger fueling deep inside of her. It was a strange feeling. One she hardly let show. It was a feeling she was usually an expert at suppressing. In the thirteen years, he’d known her Angel had never seen Veronica get mad before, apart from this morning when she slapped her ex-boyfriend across the face. Either she was having a really shitty day, or Angel didn’t have her figured out as he thought.

Veronica turns away from Angel. She knows what her mother would say if she could see her eldest daughter now. He’s the type of guy that likes to see you riled up. Don’t give him the satisfaction, Veronica.

She takes two steps towards the main stairwell, but wheels around the second she replays Angel’s words in her mind. Heading back in his direction she feels her face heat as Angel lets his gaze pass over her from head to toe. She didn’t understand how he could appear so calm and collected when he’d left her flustered.

“Actually, you know what. I take that back. I don’t know what I expected from you. You’re just living up to every single expectation I had about you from the moment we met-”

“You’re exceeding mine. I didn’t think you’d be so stuck up.” Letting his hand find her waist, Angel avoids the swipe of her hand that comes in response. “How do manage to fit a stick up your ass and wear those jeans?”

Veronica’s eyes narrow. The look that flashes inside of them causes Angel to brace himself for a slap that never comes.

Instead of responding, she shoves past him and starts towards the parking lot.

“Come on, Ronnie.” Angel rolls his neck, calling after her. “I was kidding, geez. Can’t you take a joke? I thought we were having a fun lover’s quarrel thing going back and forth-”

By the time Angel has caught up to her, Veronica’s near her car. And he’s run through nearly a hundred different apologies. Each of them shittier than the last. As she moves to unlock her car door, Angel reaches around her. Knowing better than to touch her, he presses his hand against the door as it opens.  

“Do you want me to run you over? If so, give me two seconds to get inside my car, and I will happily oblige.”

Angel releases a sigh before taking a step back. He watches her open the door before tossing her backpack into the back seat.

“Look, I was being an idiot. My mom, she says I have too much sass for my own good-”

“She sounds like a smart woman.”

“She is.” Running his hand over his face, Angel reaches out to catch Veronica’s arm as she moves to get inside. “And she’s also scary as hell. I’m barely passing my classes and the coach reached out to her. Said Principal Weathers is riding him about the grades of the varsity football players. If I don’t get C’s on my midterms in the next two weeks, I’m off the team. If I’m off the team, college is off the table. Ronnie, you’ve got the highest grades in school. I know you don’t like me but…”

Angel’s words came out faster than he intended. His face is hot by the time he’s done getting them all out. It doesn’t help that Veronica’s gaze has lifted, from where his hand rests against her elbow, to his face.

He looks as though he is going to share more, but doesn’t. Instead, he releases her arm before glancing over his shoulder. He looks around the nearly vacant parking lot.

“I gotta pick up my brother. I’m already late as shit. Look, I’m sorry about being a dick.” Angel takes a step back reaching into his pocket for the keys to his truck. “I’ll figure it out. Forget I said anything.”

Not waiting for a response, Angel starts towards his truck.

Instead of getting straight into the car, Veronica finds her gaze following Angel. She bites her lip, her mind drifting to the look she’d seen on Angel’s face a few seconds prior. She knew that look. It was one she only allowed herself to see in the mirror. The look that came when she felt like the cracks in her perfect facade were showing. It was the look of someone afraid everything they’d hoped for could slip away in a matter of seconds because of their failure to meet high expectations. Gripping her eyes shut, she takes a step forward.

“Angel, wait.”

Pausing, Angel turns to find Veronica’s eyes closed.

“I work after school,” she starts. “I have SGA, the newspaper, the debate club…I can tutor you in the evening, but you have to be serious-”

“I can be serious-”

“No, for real. I am not doing the work for you-”

Nodding, Angel takes in the look of skepticism on her face.

“I got it.”

“And I’m not sleeping with you.”

Angel smiles, a chuckle escaping his lips. His hands innocently raise in the air.

“My intentions are pure, Ronnie,” he smiles. “I promise. I’ll keep my hands to myself, as long as you want.”

Placing his hand over his heart, Angel adds a “scout’s honor.”

“My dad will not let you inside of my house. So where are we doing this?”

“My place. I gotta keep an eye on my brother.”

“Fine. Eight o’clock tonight.” Turning back to her car, Veronica opens the door. She pauses. “It’s Veronica. Not Ronnie.”

After a quick shift at the diner, Veronica Vargas is standing in the center of the Reyes kitchen, a smile on her face. 

In the time it took her to work her shift, get off and get to his house Angel has done a couple of things. He’s taken the time to shower, his dark locks still wet and curling. He’s changed into a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt. He’s cleaned up the kitchen for once without his mother’s threats. He’s vacuumed the living room and cleaned the bathroom. He’s unnecessarily threatened his younger brother to be on his best behavior, and not to hint that Angel has a crush on Veronica. He’s also ordered two boxes of pizza, all while trying to ice his swollen right hand. 

Veronica is opening a bottle of water as she watches Angel reach up to brush his damp curls back from his eyes.

“Alright, man.” Angel smiles as he passes Ezekiel, his hand reaching down to ruffle his younger brother’s hair. “You can watch more tv later once you finish your math homework. You know pop will kill me if that shits not done-”

“Already done.” Ezekiel’s words come out muffled through his mouthful of pepperoni. He rolls his eyes at the look of skepticism on Angel’s face. Tossing his math notebook across the table, Ezekiel continues eating his gaze drifting back to the tv across the room.

Angel stares down at it for a second. 

“Did you check it?” 

“No need too,” Ezekiel shrugs before taking a sip of his soda. “I can if it makes you feel better.”

The smile on Veronica’s face grows as she watches Angel shake his head. 

“Whatever man, can we get the table? We’re gonna try and study for a test.”

Ezekiel excuses himself, swapping out his seat at the table for the sofa.

Sitting her backpack by the newly freed seat, Veronica glances up to find Angel watching her. 

“You hungry?”

He motions toward the open box of pizza in front of him. 

“I’m fine,” Veronica smiles, warily eyeing the pepperoni pizza. “But thank you.”

Angel takes note of her expression before moving to quickly close the pizza box.

“Shit-wrong box.” Dragging the second pizza box from underneath, he clears his throat. “You don’t eat meat right? I wasn’t sure what type of pizza vegetarians eat. So I uh…I just ordered a supreme. Swapped out the meat for more vegetables. I didn’t know if you liked everything that’s on it but-”

“It’s perfect.”

Taking in her smile, Angel nods before offering her plate.

It takes Angel thirty minutes to realize three important things about Veronica. Two of them are things Ricky didn’t seem to grasp in the year they dated. 

1. She doesn’t think he’s stupid, but she will also not tell him the answer to a question no matter how much he flirts with her.

2. She doesn’t like her smile and covers it up almost instantly when he’s able to get her to laugh. 

3. She has a really good poker face but plays with her hair when she’s nervous. 

Despite his attempts to distract her with his humor, Veronica can keep Angel on track for two hours. 

“You haven’t wrapped your hand?”

Blinking, Angel realizes from the look on Veronica’s face that it’s not the first time she has asked the question. Which means his staring at her has also not gone unnoticed.

Finishing the pizza crust in his mouth, Angel shrugs. He tosses the ice pack into the kitchen sink before shooting Veronica a smile.

“I tried,” he admits as he carries his glass towards the table. Dragging the seat alongside hers from beneath the table, he returns to his seat. “But, I couldn’t get it to stay.”

“Then why didn’t you just ask me to do it?”

Now that he thinks of it, Angel knows that would have been the smart thing to do. Veronica’s mother was a nurse at the local hospital. He shrugs in response, hoping she thinks it never crossed his mind. Not that he hadn’t asked her out of embarrassment. What athlete doesn’t know how to wrap his own hand?

“You have to wrap it, or it’ll be ten times worse when you wake up tomorrow,” Veronica huffs as she pushes her plate across the table. Retrieving the previously discarded pair of scissors, and athletic wrap from the center of the table, Veronica motions for Angel to drag his chair closer.

Carefully drying his swollen hand, Veronica’s brow furrows as she studies the damage. Most of the swelling has gone down. His skin is red, the knuckles already starting to bruise. Angel knows he needs to think of a story to tell his mother before she gets home.

Angel allows her to move his fingers, the sharp hiss he releases as she attempts to form a fist causing her eyes to shoot up to his face. Waving away her look of concern, he takes a sip of his soda.

“Are you taking that scholarship?”

Veronica’s brow arches. She lets her gaze briefly meet Angel’s before resting his damaged hand against the table.

“What do you know about that?” Veronica’s question leaves Angel silent. He shifts in his seat. He picks up his pencil and returns his focus to the set of notes he is meant to be copying. “Are you keeping tabs on me, Reyes?”

Angel’s smile grows at the sound of her giggle.

“You make it hard not to,” he quietly admits. Feeling as though his entire face is reddening beneath her gaze, Angel clears his throat. "No one was surprised that you got a scholarship. You’re...perfect compared to everyone else in our class.”

Veronica scoffs, the sound causing Angel to steal a glance in her direction. The light rolling of her eyes is followed by the furrowing of her brow.

“According to my mother, I am far from perfect. But, thank you.”

“I don’t know,” Angel chuckles. “If I got a scholarship offer from Stanford, my mom would probably die from a heart attack.”

“What about your dad?”

Angel shrugs at the question. The corner of his mouth turns up in a tiny smile.

“He’d probably call the school, check if it was a mistake.”

The halfhearted laugh that comes from Angel causes Veronica to pause her actions. She takes a moment to study his face before picking up the roll of bandages. Picking up his right hand, she carefully begins to wrap it.

“When I told my dad I wanted to study law, he laughed at me. Like, literally laughed. And not just a quick chuckle. A full, stomach clutching, nearly choked on his dinner type of laugh.”

Angel’s eyes lift from his work. The look of disbelief on his face pulls a giggle from Veronica’s lips. She nods. She waits until she has successfully finished wrapping Angel’s hand before continuing her story.

“I know,” she giggles. “Most lawyers would be excited, or proud, if their child, was crazy enough to follow in their footsteps. Not Eduardo Vargas. When he was finished laughing, my dad looked at my mom and said. See this is what is we get for you filling her head with that feminist, women can do anything psycho-babble. Sweetheart, I would hate for you to rack up student loan debt only to get out into the real world and find female lawyers never make it. Unless you want to be a divorce lawyer, and I raised you not to settle. Why not be a nurse, like your mother?”

Veronica’s admission is news to Angel. Her father is the most respected lawyer in Southern California. Angel always assumed that she was expected to follow in her father’s footsteps. Her younger sister, who was more focused on cheerleading and popularity, definitely was not going to be the one to take over the family business. Every time Angel saw her family, it appeared as though Veronica was the apple of her father’s eye. He often found himself thinking that her father looked at Veronica, the same way his father looked at Ezekiel. His gaze was always full of nothing but pride.

Learning that the highest ambition Eduardo Vargas had for his brightest daughter was nursing school shocked Angel.

Veronica could see the thoughts washing across Angel’s face. She knew what he was thinking. She also knew what question was forming in his mind, and that she didn’t have an answer for it. So, she decides to change the subject.

“So…earlier, at school, you mentioned college. What schools are you looking at?”

Angel shakes his head. Tapping his pencil against the kitchen table, he gives up focusing on the paper before him. Resting back in his seat, he watches as Veronica rests her chin in the palm of her hand.  

"I'm...college isn't really on the table for me. I kinda always knew that. I'll probably just get a job down at-Shit!”

Angel reaches up, wincing as he massages the part of his arm that Veronica has just punched. “What was that for?”

“I just poured out one of my deepest darkest secrets to you-”

“Did you?”

Ignoring his rolling eyes, Veronica smiles as Angel continues to massage his arm.

“I did, and I don’t do that often. So, please, Reyes don’t sit here and give me some bullshit lie because you’re too macho to share your feelings with me.”

“I’m not-” Angel releases a sigh, his hand running over his face before falling back to the table. “I don’t believe people like me are meant to get out of Santo Padre.”

“People like you?”

“I’m not as smart as you-”

"Sure you are.” Veronica takes note of the skepticism molding Angel’s face. “Seriously. You do not need straight A’s to be smart, Angel. Sure, I know things that you don’t. But, you’re also really good at things that I suck at.”

“Like what?”

“Well, when you’re not being a self-centered jerk, you’re nice to people that jocks are never supposed to be nice too." The smile that spreads across Angel’s lips brings one to Veronica’s. “You’re friends with everyone. It’s kind of annoying if I’m being honest. It’s like you have this way of figuring out something that makes them laugh, or smile, and you remember it. You’re really good at making people like you. I don’t make friends easily, but you make it look so easy.”

"I must not be that great at it,” Angel smiles softly. “I’m still working on you.”

Veronica smiles before lightly rolling her eyes.

"I’m trying to give you a compliment, Reyes. Don’t make me take it back.”

For a moment, the two simply stared at each other. The smile that the two teens share leaving a warmth across Veronica’s skin that she’s never experienced before.

“U.C. Davis.”

“Huh?” Veronica blinks, heat rushing to her cheeks as she watches Angel return his attention to the notes he is meant to copy.

Angel begins writing.

“You asked what college I was looking at. Coach says a scout is coming to the homecoming game.”

Veronica’s eyes widen as she lets Angel’s words sink in.

The homecoming game was the biggest sporting event of the school year. The entire town comes out for the game. Each year, Santo Padre Regional High School was scheduled to play against their rival. Their rivals were the best in the state, and each year Angel’s team always remained undefeated until the homecoming game.

“There’s going to be a scout?”

“Yeah, but as of right now I’m benched. Coach lets me practice, but he’s been working with our second string QB a lot lately. Just in case...”

Veronica nods in understanding.

“In case you don’t pass your midterms.”

“At least Ricky will get to play,” Angel smiles. “Pretty sure he’s looking to use it as an excuse to win you back.”

“That won’t happen.” Now it is Veronica’s turn to smile. “Because I’m going to make sure you pass your midterms.”

Angel shifts in his seat, his eyes briefly meeting hers.

“We’ll see...That’s why mom has been stressed out. She hasn’t told my pops yet. I think she’s tryna spare me another one of his ‘I told you so.’ He’s not a big fan of me trying to play ball...doesn’t think it’ll end me up anywhere. I don’t blame him though. How many of us make it outta Santo Padre on a football scholarship?”

“There always has to be a first.”

Veronica looks up from her textbook to find Angel’s eyes on her. The smile on his face causes her brow to furrow.

“What?”

“My mom would like you.”

A giggle escapes Veronica’s lips as she returns her eyes to her textbook.

“Is that a line you use on all the girls you invite over?”

“Hell no,” Angle chuckles. “I never introduce the girls I invite over to my mom. She has high expectations for her baby boy.”

“As she should.”

"What about you?”

“Oh, I definitely can’t take you home,” Veronica teases. “One look at you, and my dad will definitely have a heart attack. He can’t have anyone corrupting his baby girl.”

Angel’s laugh mingles with hers, the sight of the grin on his face causing her to bite her lip.

“But seriously...something must be stopping you from taking that scholarship to Stanford.”

Veronica’s fingers lift to her hair. She absentmindedly begins to toy with the ends. She takes a deep breath. Releasing the breath she is holding, she meets Angel’s gaze.

“I haven’t told anyone yet, but...I may have applied to Oxford University?”

Angel’s brow rises. “Where’s that?”

“Oxford, England. I just…figured there aren’t many people who look like us out there." Veronica finds her words picking up as Angel’s gaze remains steady on her. She finds his expression unreadable, but feel as though he can read hers easily. “I don’t mean it like that. It’s just. Everyone in my family is from here. They are born here. And sure, they go away to great schools, but they always come back and die here. More than half of my family has never even left California. My sister doesn’t think that there’s life outside of Santo Padre. I don’t want to be like that.”

“So...you’re getting a shit ton of student loans to fly to England for a few months every year? Wouldn’t it be easier to take a trip during the summer?”

Veronica laughs quietly before giving Angel a smile.

“You sound like my mom.”

"Naw, I’m just messin’ with you. I get it,” he sighs. “Besides, what’s the point in having a perfect high school record if you don’t go to the school you want?”

They’re both quiet for a moment.

Angel lifts his bandaged hand and examines it in the light. His eyes shift to Veronica’s face as she takes his hand in hers.

“I’m sorry you busted your throwing hand over a stupid fight.”

Angel lets off a soft shrug, his eyes steady on their hands.

“It should be fine by homecoming. Besides, I never liked Ricky anyway.”

“Well, I think UC Davis is a great school." Veronica smiles. “I’m not an expert in football. I mean I don’t really understand anything other than what a touchdown is, but I think you’re really good. And if that’s what gets you into college, Angel, that’s great. It means a lot that you’re actually trying to get your grades up. Colleges take note of that. Just don’t go punching anyone else, okay? At least not until after the homecoming game.”

The wink she sends his way as she releases his hand brings a grin to Angel’s face.

“Thanks for helping me.”

“It’s no problem,” Veronica waves. The sound of her phone buzzing in her backpack pulls her attention away from him. “If you want I can also help with any other applications or essays that you may have left for your back up schools.”

“You don’t have to.”

"It's kinda second nature for me. My parents have been prepping me for college since I could speak.”

Angel watches her as she rummages through her bag in search of her phone. She is too busy checking the message from her mother to notice the look on his face. If she’d seen it, she would’ve figured out that it probably took everything Angel had not to lean over and kiss her right then and there. 

“I could pay you-”

Veronica giggles, the action furrowing his brow.

She responds to her mother before looking up at Angel.

“You don’t have to pay me, Angel. Seriously.” She gets up from her seat and begins packing up her backpack. “All I ask is that you feed me during our sessions.”

“Okay.” Angel smiles as she zips up her bag.

“I have to go. Ten thirty curfew. If I’m late, even by two seconds, my dad will have the police kicking down your door.”

“I thought you didn’t tell him you were coming here.”

“Trust me, he’d find me somehow.”

When Veronica slings her backpack over her shoulder she briefly pauses at the sight of Angel standing up. Hastily clearing the table, he shoots her a glance taking note of her raised eyebrow.

“Let me walk you to your car.”

“You don’t need you to do that. It’s just across the street.”

“Exactly,” Angel smiles. “So it won’t take that long. It’s ten o’clock. It’s too dark for you to walk alone.”

“Okay.” Nodding, Veronica lifts her hand to wave to Ezekiel who is lounging on the sofa, a book in his hand. “See you around, Ez.”

He lifts his hand to wave, his gaze moving to his brother. He waits until Veronica has stepped onto the porch to speak.

“Mom said you can’t leave me home alone.” Ezekiel teases.

Angel pauses in the doorway as he tugs his hoodie over his head. Facing his younger brother, Angel takes a deep breath.

“Yeah, I know. Technically I’m not leaving you home alone. I’m gonna be at the end of the driveway.” A mischievous grin spreads across the young boy’s face as his mouth opens in response. Before he can get out his words, Angel has the front door open. “Ez, just stay here.”

Angel leads Veronica down the front steps. Neither of them speaks until they reach the front gate. Veronica bites her lip before taking a deep breath.

“Look, I’m sorry for earlier.”

“Why are you apologizing to me?”

“I said some pretty mean things to you earlier at school. I was just pissed about Ricky. It wasn’t your fault.” Veronica glances over, the soft smile on Angel’s lips growing as he digs his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “What? Usually, when someone apologizes, the response is thank you.”

“You weren’t mean.” Angel chuckles, the look of confusion on Veronica's face causing him to stop. “Not compared to what I said. Besides, I’ve heard worse things.”

Angel unlocks the gate, pushing it open to allow her the chance to step through. But Veronica remains where she is.

“So...I was thinking we could try an hour every day after school, and on Saturday. Sundays I have church, and my parents will not let me miss that.”

“Okay.”

Taking a step through the gate, Veronica turns back around to face Angel.

“Also, you were having trouble with questions ten and twelve on your Calculus homework. I had Benson for Pre-Calc. She always over explains everything. I wouldn’t try and do it the way she says in class. Just look back over chapter 6. I believe it's pages…” Veronica trails off as a smile spreads across Angel’s lips. Although he has been staring at her as she speaks, the look on his face tells her he wasn’t listening to what she was saying.

He blinks, his eyes dropping for a moment to where his hands rest on the now-closed gate.

Shaking her head, she rummages through her bag for a pen. Taking his hand in her, she writes her number across the skin of his palm.

“Just call me in case you forget?”

Angel nodded, watching as she smiles before taking a step back. She turns, looks both ways and crosses the street towards her car.

“You never told me what you want for helping me study.” He calls after her. “And supplying food for study sessions, that doesn’t count.”

Veronica shrugs. Retrieving her keys from her bag, she smiles.

“That’s because I don’t want anything.”

Angel studies Veronica’s eyes. Even under the dim street lamps, he knows that they are honest. He’s not surprised. Veronica has a reputation for helping others, but that doesn’t stop Angel from pressing forward.

“I can get you into Parker’s Halloween party this Saturday.”

Veronica instantly shakes her head, her gaze leaving Angel’s. Parker hosted a Halloween party every year, since freshman year. It was outside of Santo Padre. His parents owned a house bigger than one Angel could ever afford in his lifetime. It was always the party of the school year. Veronica has never been.

“No, thank you...I don’t really do parties.” Veronica backtracks. Beneath Angel’s gaze, she feels the need to explain herself. Yet again. “And by “I don’t really do parties,” I mean I’ve never gone to one-I mean-I’ve been to a party before, obviously, but not this type of party-”

“That’s why I’ll take you,” Angel smiles. “Show you the ropes. Teach you beer pong, and how to dance to shitty music. Protect you from drunk guys that want to hit on you.”

“As much fun as that sounds. No thank you.”

“Come on, Ronnie, you just got me to study the longest I’ve ever studied in my entire life.” Angel chuckles as he pulls back against the fence, his weight rolling to the back of his heels. His eyes look up to the sky. “Stop being impossible, and let me return the favor. Besides I’m not letting you go to college never having been to a party.”

Veronica bites her lips, shifting her weight between her feet as Angel’s gaze returns to hers.

“What?” He smiles.

“Pass your weekly quiz this Friday in Benson’s class. And I’ll go. And by pass I mean, at least a 75 percent.”

The grin that spreads across Angel’s face is full of confidence. It also brings a smile to Veronica’s lips. Usually, Angel wouldn’t dream of starting to study for a Friday quiz on a Monday night. He’s more a study the period before kind of guy. But he also wouldn’t dream of passing up a chance to take Veronica Vargas to a party.

I guess there’s a first time for everything. 

“You better start looking for a costume, Ronnie.” Angel smiles as he takes a step back from the fence.

“Okay,” Veronica giggles. “You better start studying.”

Veronica is fully buckled in and just about to pull off when she realizes Angel has changed his path. Instead of heading back inside, he has stepped into the street.

She watches as he crosses the street and heads towards her car.

Rolling down the window, she waits until he stops at the door to speak.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just, earlier when you were apologizing...I wanted to say something, but I didn’t.” Resting his arms against her car, Angel watches as her eyes search his face before meeting his. Her brow furrows in confusion. “I’m sorry for what I said to you at school.”

“You already said that,” Veronica smiles softly. “It’s okay.”

“I also wanted to say that you don’t have to apologize for standing up for yourself.”

“Okay.”

Veronica response is the only word that her brain is able to formulate at the moment. Because the rest of her mind is flooded with the features of Angel Reyes. The features she has spent the entire night trying not to focus on while she sat less than a foot away from him in his kitchen. The features she is trying not to realize are less than a few inches away from her own at this very moment. She watches his hooded eyes drop down to her lips. Her mind realizing that if he pushes himself forward he can easily kiss her. 

When she doesn’t say anything else, she is almost certain he is going to kiss her. 

Before she can give him the chance, Veronica reaches down her finger tugging at the button for the driver’s side window.

Angel quickly removes his arms from the windowpane and takes a step back. 

“I’m sorry!” She calls, the now completely risen window muffling her voice. “I really have to get home. I have a-”

“Ten thirty curfew,” Angel smiles as he takes a step back towards the house.

“Yeah.”

Despite the heat on her face, Veronica smiles as Angel lifts his bandaged hand to wave. He laughs, softly shaking his head. 

“See you tomorrow, Ronnie.”

[the--blackdahlia]

Natural Born Killers Chapter 8 (Sam x Dean)

Title: Natural Born Killers Chapter 9

Summary:  It started as an accident. That’s what it was. But things escalated from there and now the law wants Dean Winchester, one way or another.

Warnings: Language

AN:  So, after I wrote this chapter, I realized that same-sex marriage was not legal in California until later. So, let's just pretend this is an AU where it's a little more accepted/legal in the early 2000's.

Present

“Your file says you graduated from St. Joseph high school.” Victor said, looking at Sam.

“That’s right.” Sam said.

“Was this before or after your dad died?” Victor asked.

“Why does it matter?” Sam asked. “I graduated. That’s all that matters, right?”

“I’m just very impressed to be honest.” Victor told him. “I mean, you have to have had at least a hundred schools under your belt. You stayed at St. Joseph for about two years it seems. And then you graduated salutatorian and got a full ride scholarship to Stanford. That’s pretty good for a prime candidate for foster care.” Sam just rolled his eyes. “Tell me about Stanford Sam. What led up to it. All of it.”

****

2001

It was a few days after Dean’s birthday when the envelope showed up. Sam had applied at Stanford, as well as Notre Dame, UCLA, and some various Michigan and Indiana colleges. The trail of letters had slowly been trailing in. But this one was different. And when Sam opened it, he knew his life was going to change.

“Dean?” Sam said into the phone. Dean was at work. He was working a little later throughout the week so he could have his weekends with Sam. It didn’t always work out that way, but since he had proven himself to be such a good mechanic, his boss tried to work things out for him.

“Sammy? What is it? What’s wrong?” Dean asked.

“I have something big to tell you.” Sam said. “I don’t know if I should tell you now though…” Dean’s heart was beating hard. What was wrong with his Sammy? “De?”

“Are you okay?” Dean asked, his voice a little unsure. Sam was smiling, not that Dean could see.

“De, how do you feel about California?” Sam asked.

“What?” Dean asked, confused.

“Well, I got a full ride scholarship to Stanford, so…” Sam said. Dean was silent at the other end of the line. Then Sam heard him yelling and could make out words of excitement.

“Oh my god Sammy! That’s the best news I’ve heard all day!” Dean told him. “When I get home, we’ll celebrate! Fuck, I’m so proud of you!”

****

“I have to live on campus.” Sam groaned as he tossed all his information on the coffee table and dramatically threw himself on the couch. Dean looked up from the movie he was watching.

“Says who?” Dean asked.

“Says Stanford.” Sam said. “The only way I don’t have to is if I have proof I’m living with my parents, there are accommodations that I need that they can’t provide, or I have proof that I’m married or in a domestic partnership.” Sam looked up at Dean. “So I guess I’ll be living in a dorm for at least the first year.”

“Give me some time.” Dean said. “I’ll make sure you can stay with me baby boy.”

****

The big day came not too long after Sam turned 18. He was one of the youngest in his class it seemed, but he was so excited. He had made friends with a bunch of people over the two years he was there, and even walked with Kaelyn, a girl that was in his photography club with him. He had worked his ass off over the past two years, taking as many AP classes and activities as he could to beef him up to colleges. Him and Dean hadn’t been hunting a lot, but he wanted to make sure they never had to rely on hustling pool or anything like that ever again.

Sam gave a beautiful speech and man, Dean was so ready to jump up and applaud every word that came out of his mouth. Dean hadn’t graduated high school, so he didn’t really see the joy in sitting in a gym for hours while kids talked about following their dreams and such. But seeing Sam in that dark blue gown, standing up at the podium to give hi speech, filled Dean’s heart with so much love.

And then he got his diploma and Dean was on his feet, cheering his blushing little brother.

“So where are you off to after this?” Kaelyn asked Sam as they all stood around, hugging each other.

“We’re moving out to Palo Alto so I can attend Stanford in the fall.” Sam said shyly. He didn’t like boasting about himself. Only a few of his friends knew about the full ride.

“That’s right Mr. Smart Stuff.” Kaelyn laughed and hugged him. “Well, I’ll send you my address when I settle in my dorm at the U of M.” She smiled at Sam, like she wanted to ask him something, but Dean came up and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder and Kaelyn blushed. She had a major crush on Dean.

“Well, I’ll send a postcard to your home address when I get settled up in Palo Alto so you have the address.” Sam said. “I’ll miss you Kaelyn.”

“I’ll miss you too Sam. And Dean.” She said, her face turning a bit redder. Sam and Dean made their way towards Baby. Sam had gotten pictures with his friends and they all promised to send him a copy when they were printed. Dean had a disposable camera he had gotten at CVS and the roll was filled with nothing but Sam at his graduation.

“I thought we could order Chinese and stay in for the rest of the night.” Dean told Sam. “The house we picked out over spring break is ready for us to move in. Dan and Tiffany are sad to see us go. They said we’re the best renters they’ve had in awhile.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Sam said, staring out the window. Dean frowned a little. He knew Sam had been stressing about the housing situation for awhile. If he could prove that he needed to live off campus, the money from his scholarship that would be put towards room and board would be given to help offset a rent or mortgage. Because Palo Alto was expensive. But they had found a cute little place not too far from campus. It was the cousin of Dean’s boss’ place, and he wanted to sell to head east.

When they got home, Dean placed an order at the Chinese place and went to their bedroom to watch Sam change out of the dress clothes he had worn under his gown and slid into some sweats and a t-shirt. Dean wrapped his arms around his waist and kissed on his neck.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” Dean murmured against him. “Go sit down and I’ll bring it out.”

“Mmmm, okay.” Sam said, moving away from Dean and settling himself on the couch in the living room. Dean took a couple minutes but came out with an envelope. Sam looked up at Dean. He had been getting cards and such in the mail from people like Bobby and Jim who wanted to congratulate him for all his hard work. Sam just thought it was one of those.

“You didn’t have to get me a card.” Sam said, taking the envelope from Dean.

“Just open it Sammy.” Dean said. “I called in a lot of favors for this.” Sam raised an eyebrow but opened the envelope and took out the paper from inside.

State of California Department of Public Health

License and Certificate of Marriage.

Samuel W. Campbell and Dean M. Winchester.

“D-Dean.” Sam looked up at him.

“Now you don’t have to live in the dorm baby boy.” Dean said. Sam laid the paper by him and wrapped his arms around Dean, hugging him. “We have an official record in California, and I got someone to change your records at school to reflect it.” Dean’s heart warmed at the smile that spread on Sam’s face. “There’s something that goes with that.”

“What?” Sam asked. Dean grabbed a box he had set on the coffee table and opened it to show two black bands. Two black wedding bands.

“Gotta make it official right?” Dean asked, taking one of the bands and sliding it on Sam’s finger. Sam did the same for Dean. Dean took Sam’s hand and kissed the finger where the ring was. “Mine.” He whispered.

“Yours.” Sam said happily.

****

Two days later, they Impala was packed down with all their boxes and such. They had sold off most of their furniture, and rented a small trailer that could hitch to Baby for the things that wouldn’t fit in the car. They had not stayed in a motel since they rented the house, but they were going to stay in one on the way to their new home. Dean wasn’t entirely sure where they were going to stop off at yet. They had left early in the morning and stopped to get breakfast. But Sam was tired and napped on and off on the way. They finally stopped late in the night for a motel. Dean hadn’t had to pull all nighters to drive for a long time and he was a little out of practice. So he got them a motel room with a king bed for him and the other Mr. Winchester.

“It’s pretty much our honeymoon baby boy.” Dean joked as he kissed Sam gently. Sam just rolled his eyes and let Dean kiss him.

The next morning, he was like a ball of energy. They were so close, he could taste it. He would have about a month or so to get used to the house before he had to attend orientation and then classes. He had plans to do some gardening; herbs and other plants that they could use for protection as well as cooking. He had done a little with their next door neighbor in Michigan, since it was sometimes too hard for her to get done to pull the weeds. It was a great relaxer sometimes. Dean worked on cars; Sam liked to take pictures and work on gardening with Mrs. Tandy.

“We’re almost there.” Dean said as they passed through Sacramento. Dean couldn’t stop stealing glances at Sam. He looked so happy, so relaxed and Dean was so in love. Before they knew it, they were pulling onto Emerson Street in the Midtown neighborhood.

“I can’t believe we scored a house here.” Sam said in almost a dreamlike state. Their home in Michigan was very nice, but it wasn’t theirs. They were just renting it. Of course, their landlords didn’t mind if they painted or anything like that, but Sam wanted someplace that was theirs.

“Remember, it needs a little love.” Dean said, finding the right address and pulling into the driveway. They had visited the house and it’s previous occupants on Sam’s spring break a few months prior. The house had been empty for about a month now. Dean had worked extra hours and done a few kills to get the money to pay for the house, meaning that the extra scholarship money could be applied to fixing it up.

“It’s ours.” Sam said, a huge smile on his face. “It’s all ours.”

****

Two Months Later

“Dean, I’ve gotta get to the orientation.” Sam said.

“Want me to drop you off on my way to work?” Dean asked, buttoning up his work shirt.

“Might be a good idea. I heard parking is a bitch.” Sam said. “And I haven’t gotten the bus schedule down yet.” Dean smiled and kissed Sam.

“And you’re the nerd.” Dean laughed. “Come on. Let’s get you to your orientation.” Sam smiled. He knew how to drive, but he had just never bothered to get a car. Dean drove them everywhere and Sam was happy with that. Occasionally, he would drive out for things, but it was rare.

Dean dropped Sam off at the student center and gave him a quick kiss.

“If you need me to pick you up, call me baby boy.” Dean said. “Love you Sammy.”

“Love you De.” Sam smiled and waved to Dean before heading inside. They were all gathered into an auditorium and went over all the things that Stanford had to offer, financial things, etc. Finally, they broke for lunch. Sam sat a table by the window, looking out over the campus.

“Hey, mind if I sit here?” A kid asked holding a tray of food.

“Sure.” Sam said, looking up at him.

“I saw you at orientation. What dorm are you in?” The kid asked.

“Oh, I don’t have one. I live at Midtown with my husband.” Sam explained.

“Dude, lucky.” The kid laughed. He stuck out his hand for Sam to shake. “Name’s Brady. I’ll be at Florence Moore...I think.” Sam laughed and shook his hand.

“I’m Sam.” Sam said, smiling at him. “Pre law.”

“Business.” Brady said. “I’m gonna be a CEO someday. But I think I’ll need a lawyer like you to help me out.”

Conversation flowed freely between the two of them, and they stuck together for the rest of the orientation. They had a few of the same basic core classes, and they even got them at the same times.

If Dean ever had to be jealous of anyone, it was Brady.

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo @we-ride-with-the-tide @dekahg @marvel-af @nanie5 @imboredsueme @gemini0410 @aiaranradnay @babypink224221 @mogaruke @xxwarhawk @strab0 @sandlee44

Supernatural Tags: @bandobsession98 @mrsdeanfuckingwinchester @fangirlsencyclopaediaofweirdness @ilovetardis @missihart23 @supernaturalwincestsblog @flamencodiva @sams-serialkiller-fetish @theas-bedtime-stories

Natural Born Killers Tags: @mysteriousharmony @webcraft4eveh @mereka18 @writinginthesecrettrees

[chokefriends]

Pit-town Strays Ch.1

Kidlaw softness and redneck shenanigans in a northern mining town. Everything's fucked but whatever.

Rated T, no warnings, or just general warnings for setting-specific social ills and violence (racist cops, shitty parents, etc). Someone ordered wholesome kidlaw family feels? well HERE.

[Ch. 1] - Ch. 2 - Ch. 3 - Ch. 4 - Ch. 5

Read on Ao3 too, I’m Ossicle

“What the hell are you going to Pit-town for?” Bellamy chewed at Law with his mouth open, a smarmy sneer on his pasty face.

“None of your business.” Law scowled, turning his eyes away from his brother’s ground-up breakfast. He shoved a random pile of coursework into his backpack.

“Well I know what kids like you go up there to do. Everybody knows.” Bellamy drawled on, like he knew shit about anything besides scamming beer and shooting bottles at the quarry.

“Don’t make assumptions, idiot. I’m just babysitting.”

“Why?”

“It’s called a job? You should try it,” Law suggested primly. “Feet.”

Bellamy lifted his feet off Law’s pile of textbooks. “Why, though? You got that big scholarship, I seen the letter when it came in.”

Law frowned at him. “How did you…”

“Well it was just there, so I read it. Why don’t you move out, if you got all that money? You hate it here so much.”

Law waved this matter aside. “I owe that money to someone. Give me the volvo keys.”

Bellamy didn’t move his stupid stumpy self from the ancient recliner—prized spot in the basement space the three brothers shared. “No, I need it, I’m meeting up with some guys later to go down to the quarry. Dad said I could.”

“Bellamy, I need it to get to town. Just gimme the keys.”

“Well I need it to pick up little ladies! You can hitch, right?”

Law didn’t bother arguing. He sighed through his nose and slid his feet into his severely ratty sneakers before heading out into the yard.

“Don't tell Dad where I am or I'll tell him about your girlfriend!” Law called on his way out.

“Obviously,” Bellamy muttered.

The ancient volvo wasn’t feeling cooperative today, or Law was having a lapse or something because he couldn’t fucking hotwire it. He slammed his fist on the dash and took out his phone. It was an oddly summery fall day—not too cold to walk or bike—but his shoes were getting thin in the soles, and Law didn't like asking his dad for little stuff like that. Didn't wanna be such a burden all the time.

He scrolled through his messages and sent a couple off to see about a ride. But Robin (who'd suggested the job) was teaching, and Baby (sweet, bitter Baby) was already in the sauce.

BB: i cn still come tho? you real stuck?? big bro awwwww im sry

You: Nono dont go driving if youre partying it up, Ill hitch a ride I guess

BB: Where?

You: Just into town

BB: Where in town??????

You: The Pit.

You: or whatever.

BB: LAWWW NOOOOOOOOooo jus kidding lol no judgement here

BB: id sell it on weekends too if i were pretty liek U

You: I’m not selling my ass!!!

BB: Lol

BB: sure

BB: why else ndn boi hangs w miner trash? Shady.

You: Lots of reasons, including a babysitting job. Don’t make assumptions.

BB: “babysitting”” “””job”””’

You: Yes.

BB: God ur sheltered

BB: shltered bebe in u nice rich house

BB: don get picked up there, pit-town piggies love ndn bebes

Law pocketed his phone with an eyeroll and started walking down toward the highway.

Once he’d found a ride and gotten dropped off, it was a twenty minute walk from the highway to the Pit. Law ended up climbing over the bare, rocky hill behind the truck stop, cuz his phone’s map had the place all wrong. On top of the hill, he could see the Pit in all its glory laid out before him.

Pit-town was the weird little enclave where the town’s mine workers were housed, in tar paper houses as outdated as the mine itself. The tangled machinery of the refinery loomed just beyond the houses, and above all that, the smokestacks. White smoke drifted from their peaks, as high above him as the clouds. Nothing except low bush berries grew around here—it was like an outpost on the moon.

Law went down into the village. Men with tattooed arms watched him from pickup trucks, and women smoking in lawn chairs whispered. Half-feral dogs barked and circled.

“Ya lost, hun?” one busty woman called from her front step as he passed, and her friends chuckled.

“No…” he mumbled back, and hurried on as they all laughed.

He was flustered and out of breath by the time he got to the address, on the other fucking side of the whole village. The house was like the rest: a single-storey bungalow on a small plot of land with a car port full of dead appliances. There was a little pink bike lying on the front step, and a short dog chain attached to a pole in the middle of the bare yard. A deep trail had been trod in a circle around the pole but there was no dog in sight. Law went up and knocked lightly.

He stood there for a few minutes, feeling the neighborhood eyes on his back, before trying again. He knocked a little louder. “Hey, um. Hello?”

A harsh voice called, “YEAH IT’S OPEN.”

Law tried the door. “No it’s not?” he called back.

“YEAH IT IS JUST KICK IT AND TURN THE THING AT THE SAME TIME.”

“...No, definitely not open,” Law assured him after trying every kick-turn combination.

“AH FUCK.”

“Yeah.”

“OKAY, CAN YOU JUST BREAK IN?”

“...What??” Law was almost offended.

“I’M DOING A THING, CAN’T GET THE DOOR RIGHT NOW, JUST TRY SOMETHING.”

Obviously Law could break into stuff, because his shitty little brothers thought it was hilarious to lock him out of the house all the time. And because their father thought it was prudent to keep things like Law’s ID in a secure location. Law didn’t think that skill set was a great way to start this ‘job’ thing, though… He looked around at the prying eyes across the street and they flitted back behind their blinds. He sighed.

The lock was just one of the doorknob ones, and the jamb didn’t have a guard on it so it was easy to get a credit card in there. The door swung open and Law stepped into a cluttered hallway.

“In here!” the big voice called from down the hall.

“I here!” a little voice added.

Law navigated his way carefully, stepping over baskets of laundry, unreturned empties, and sealed up moving boxes. Something obnoxious was playing on tinny speakers in another room. He rounded the corner into a sweltering little kitchen that seemed like the only clear spot in the house.

There was a very tall redhead with a face full of piercings sitting at the kitchen table in his boxers, and a much smaller redhead in a frilly blue bathing suit beside him. They were painting their toenails black, with their feet up on the table.

The bigger redhead seemed really shocked to see Law. He almost toppled backward on his chair. “H-hi! Uh! You’re Native.”

Law blinked. “Yeah. Um. You’re naked.”

“I’m Nami!” announced the little girl.

The guy was pretty much naked, by Law’s standards. Also kind of jacked… Law could feel his face heating up and was glad that it didn’t really show on him. The man sitting there in his boxers was pale as a fucking ghost, though, and so his sudden flush was super obvious. He rushed to recover from that intro.

“I don’t mean like, ‘oh, you’re Native.’ Well, obviously you are, heh, but I don’t mind or anything!"

“Yeah, uh.” Law nodded helpfully. “I don’t mind either, that you’re… naked.”

“Kidd is a naked...” Nami sang to herself.

“I'm not even,” Kidd protested. “I'm just hot as hell. Aren't you hot?”

“Am I??” Law was completely lost.

“Not—! I mean, yeah, but you're in a hoodie? Aren't you sweltering?” Kidd clarified.

“Oooh. No, not really. I like to keep covered up,” Law explained, picking at a fraying sleeve. He supposed it was weird to be wearing jeans and a hoodie in this weather, but no weirder than wearing Crocs in public, like people here seemed into doing.

Kidd was distracted by Nami painting patterns on her feet with the nail polish. “Fuck, Nami, stop, we just paint the nails. It’s messy, see? MESSY.” He took the tiny girl and sat her on the counter instead, then went about cleaning up the table. “Sorry about the door. Can’t go anywhere with wet toenails, it smears like hell.”

Law nodded harder and went to help him. “It’s cool, I know how to break into stuff. I mean I don’t usually! But your door was easy. Not that I’ll do it again!”

“Not a problem… uh, Kidd. I’m Kidd. Hi.” The guy finally got his head together and extended a hand. His fingernails were painted black too. He had a really firm grip.

“Law,” Law replied in relief.

“And this is my sister Nami,” Kidd jabbed a thumb at the toddler perched precariously on the counter. “She’s a fucking psychopath.”

Nami ignored them, sticking towels into the toaster instead.

“You have a dog too? I saw the chain outside.” Law wondered.

“No, Dad took the dog with him. And the fuckin car…”

“Your parents are both working?” Law asked, and immediately regretted it. God, he really was sheltered.

Kidd blushed again and started stacking dishes.

Law rushed to clarify. “Or, ‘parent'? I only got one too—a dad. I'm adopted though, and my birth parents are both passed, so.”

Kidd was wiping off each dish absently under the running water, not really cleaning anything. “We got a dad and mom, they’re just… not around right now. So it’s just us! Which is better, believe me.” He growled the last bit under his breath.

“Oh, got it.”

“Anyway. I didn't wanna ask someone to come all the way here to watch Nami, but that bitch down the street won’t take her anymore because of lice or property damage or something, and I got an interview today. I’ll prolly find another illegal daycare somewhere around here if I do get this job, though, heh.”

“Yeah don’t worry about it.” Law tried not to seem squeamish at the mention of lice.

“If they do take me I’ll be starting right away, so I might be out til pretty late,” Kidd warned him. “I’ll pay you for however long you’re here for though.”

“Sounds good. You gonna work at the mine?”

This seemed like another sensitive issue. Kidd looked away and muttered, “No… you gotta be 21, and take all these courses and stuff. And anyway, like HELL will I end up in the fuckin pit,” he finished with unexpected heat.

Law was saved from having to come up with a response by Nami blowing up the toaster outlet. The kitchen appliances all blinked out.

“FUCK! Again…” Kidd rushed to pick her up and sit her back on the table as a loud dryer beep sounded from the bathroom. “And fuck, there’s my pants. Listen, can you grab a fuse from the drawer there and stick it in? I actually REALLY gotta go, like right now.”

“Yeah of course!” Law watched the strange redhead duck through the kitchen door and pick his way down the obstacle course hall to another door.

He pulled his eyes away from the muscled back and onto the little girl, who was… eating nail polish.

“You!” Law scolded her, and put her in a chair. He grabbed the few towels that weren’t burnt, and tied her to the aluminum frame. “Okay, eat cheez-its while I fix this.”

Law had got the new fuse screwed into the panel and the nail polish off Nami’s face by the time Kidd came back, dressed in clothes that didn’t seem like interview clothes to Law: heavy duck pants and steel-toed boots. He grabbed a duffel bag that was sitting on a box stack, shouldered it and then stood looking at Law.

“Uh,” Kidd was blushing again. It was kind of amazing to see this tough blacklung brat acting so unsure. “If I come back really late maybe I could bring something? To eat? And we could eat it here?”

“Yeah, that'd be good.” Law shrugged like he didn't mind either way.

“KFC?” Kidd suggested.

“Oh I don't like breaded stuff. Fries are good, though.”

“Chinese?”

“I'm trying not to eat MSG actually…”

Kidd tried to think. “So what do you eat?”

“Mostly sushi.”

“I didn't know there was any sushi places in this shit town,” Kidd admitted.

“At the college there's one. Uh, but whatever you bring is fine, don't worry about it!” Law reassured him.

“Okay. Well, see ya.” Kidd made his way outside, yelling at some hovering dogs to git!, then started swearing. “Aw fuck, Nami's FUCKING bike…”

“You trip on it?” Law poked his head outside.

“No,” Kidd was looking at an empty front walk. “Fuckin kids took off with it again. I'll just go punch their dad in the throat later, not a big deal.”

“Holy,” Law commented mildly.

He watched Kidd pull a frankenstein-ian motorcycle out of a side door and roar away on it. Then he looked around to see if anyone had caught him looking. He was just sending a good glare at the prying eyes across the street when he remembered that he was babysitting. He returned to the kitchen where Nami was sitting once again on top of the table, drawing circles in a nail polish puddle with one finger.

“Your brother is an entire entrée,” Law informed her.

She didn't reply, intent on her craft. But she objected when he tried to pick her up. “Nooo!”

“No?” he put her down.

She glared at him, a tiny girl of no more than four, ginger hair in little pigtails and her frilly blue bathing suit spotted with nail polish.

“I'm Law,” he sat down so he was at her level, and introduced himself. “Lawww.”

“Law...” She appraised him solemnly for another moment and then seemed to deem him acceptable. “I’m being a witch,” she confided in a whisper.

“A witch?”

“Yah.”

Law sat back in the chair with a laugh. “My girl! Let's talk!”

Law had the kitchen scrubbed to his own exacting standards in short order, having secured Nami firmly to a chair (with duct tape and towels this time).

She was starting to nod into her cheezits by the time he'd finished, and Law figured it was nap time. He went to review the rooms along the hallway, looking for a baby room. He couldn't figure out the logic of the place, though. There was a largeish bedroom, which seemed to be the source of the stale smoke smell, mostly taken up by a tacky king bed and Seinfeld DVDs. It clearly hadn't been used in forever. He closed that door. Then there was a smaller room that might've once been a child's room, decorated with glow in the dark stars on the ceiling and complex Lego structures piled in one corner. It was stacked floor to ceiling with file boxes and covered in dust too. Another small room seemed to be Kidd's hideout, though the bed was just a box spring covered in laundry and books. There was a guitar and practice amp, and a desk piled with half-dissected old laptops. Law resisted the urge to snoop, and closed the door.

He went back down to the other end of the hall, past the front door, where the narrow corridor opened into a small living room space. A couch and a single mattress were neatly made up into beds, in front of a large TV that seemed like the only new thing in the house.

“I want a Kidd nap.” Nami had somehow gotten out of the duct tape high chair and was at Law's side, rubbing her eyes.

“Okay? In the big bed?”

“You're silly,” she accused. She went to lie down on the couch, pulling a fuzzy blanket over herself.

Law went to sit next to her. He gestured down at the mattress on the floor, with its orange and blue comforter and many fuzzy cushions. “Is that your bed? Don't you wanna nap there?”

“No,” she explained patiently, eyes already closed.

“Right, obviously.”

He watched her shuffle and sigh her way to sleep.

“I could've had a sister,” he murmured, partly to her and partly to himself. “I mean, I do have a biological sister, but I didn't grow up with her. I think it would've been nice, though…”

Nami was already asleep when he looked over again. Easy! Law totally had this babysitting thing in hand. He pulled his stats assignment out of his bag, and got down to the real work.

Nami turned out to be a pretty chill baby, as well as being an utter terror. She mostly ignored Law, preferring to go about her little play tasks uninterrupted, with the TV playing in the background. “Being a witch,” she explained whenever Law asked what she was doing.

“Keep it up,” he encouraged her, turning back to his own work.

He quickly learned, though, to keep an ear out for silence, because she was probably blowing shit up. Law found her building a fire in the oven, then making what he was pretty sure was mustard gas in the toilet.

“How’d you do that??” He took the bleach from her and she threw a mild fit before toddling off to the next game.

By the time Kidd returned, Law was just sitting in a kitchen chair with his stats assignment disregarded in front of him, watching the four-year-old expertly jimmy the makeshift lock he'd put on the knife drawer.

“More twist on the lever,” an amused Law recommended.

“So this one's being a psychopath huh,” Kidd entered and threw his duffel bag on the table.

Law corrected him.“Um, she's a witch and a prodigy? She made several deadly potions with cleaning supplies today."

“Oh jesus now there's two of you.”

“One more and we got a coven.”

“Great. Nami, it's like 11, why ain't your ass in bed?” Kidd growled at his sister, who ignored him.

“She went down for a couple hours, but kept getting up when she heard a car go by. And I couldn't get any pajamas on her,” Law reported.

“Yeah she won't take the bathing suit off unless I bribe her. She's big into being a ‘mermaid’ this month, on top of being a witch.”

Nami had gotten the knife drawer open and was feeling around in it with one chubby hand.

Kidd scooped her up. “No knives.”

“A knife!!!”

Law shook his head and smiled. Child after his own heart. “What's she want a knife for?”

“She's been trying to slash my tires lately, so probably that. It's usually pretty funny to watch, but yeah, not at bedtime. Eh, Nami?”

“I WAN A KNIFE! A KNIFE A KNIFE A—”

Nami stopped and stared at the chocolate coin Kidd was holding up. She grabbed it and wiggled out of his arms. They followed her to the living room where she was stashing her prize under the couch.

“Holy, she's got a hoard,” Law gave a low whistle at the cache of foil coins and random shiny things.

“Yeah I think she's more dragon than mermaid,” Kidd commented.

Nami lay down in her floor bed, where she could see the glittering pile.

“I got food, if you wanna…?” Kidd nodded back toward the kitchen.

“Is she good here?”

“Yeah she pretty much puts herself to sleep, just leave WrestleMania on for her. She likes the noise.”

They went back to the kitchen, and Kidd turned on a thing Law had thought was a smashed toaster oven reconstructed with safety pins, but which turned out to be a radio. Kidd gestured to a bag on the table, and Law unpacked it while the redhead fiddled with the receiver. It mostly seemed to be picking up country music and static.

“Can almost get that alt rock station with this thing,” he muttered, “probably just needs another coat hanger.”

“You went and got sushi??” Law pulled out several little plastic containers.

Kidd’s back was to him but Law could see his neck and ears going red. He kept fiddling with the dials. “Yeah, whatever.”

“From all the way at the college?”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

“...I think that radio is using you as an antenna,” Law observed, changing the topic.

Kidd snorted and let go of the screwdriver-dial, and the radio went to mostly static. “Faboo. Maybe it wants a piercing too.”

His face had returned to a normal color under all that metal, and he joined Law at the table. Law offered him the dragon roll and took the sashimi plate.

The chopsticks were an obstacle.

“Do you stab it?” Kidd glared at the sushi and the two little sticks.

“No, look at my hand: hold one like a pencil, and the other one loosely—”

“I stab it.”

“Don’t stab it, hey, you’ll ruin the integrity of the roll shape!”

“Hm,” Kidd chewed his mangled piece. “Tastes like salad.”

“Here.” Law scooted over a chair. He took the chopsticks out of Kidd’s fist and rearranged them. Kidd’s hands were large and rough to the touch, and the scent of sweat and gas clung to his clothes. The sudden impression of body heat and machinery smacked Law right in the back of the brain.

“I’m gonna say this is finger food,” Kidd decided.

“Yeah,” Law agreed automatically.

“Yeah, fuck this. Want a beer?”

Law hated beer. “Yeah. I mean, whatever.”

Law sat and nursed the beer with determination, trying to pay attention to Kidd's animated take on government surveillance vans and Nicolas Cage. His brain was getting fuzzy really fast, though. He was such a fuckin lightweight.

“He’s not an actual human person, is all I’m saying. You seen his face tryna do face stuff?” Kidd argued, crunching his second beer can and tossing it in the bin across the room. "Nother beer? Hey, you’re not even done that one.”

“Tastes like bread,” Law noted distractedly.

“I guess. You don’t like Bud?”

“I liked the first movie,” Law hiccuped.

Kidd laughed like a fucking hooligan, and Law had to laugh too. Normally loud laughs grated on Law's ears, but he decided he liked this one. It wasn't mocking or cold; just big.

Kidd shook his head with a final chuckle and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Me too. Sooo uh, what you studying at the college?”

“General science right now, thinking I'll go into the pre-med stream,” Law answered right away. “Or maybe something more research, less clinical… uh. Or you know, like. Whatever.”

Kidd actually seemed interested. “Yeah that sounds awesome. I always wanted to go into engineering, but pure research would be cool… You um. Doing some math, there?” He looked over at Law's assignment, abandoned on the table.

“Stats. The bane of my existence. Don't stare at it too long, it'll put the bleed on your brain.”

“...you're stuck, huh?” Kidd glanced over again.

“No.” Law sniffed. “I'm considering it from many angles.”

“Okay, man.”

“Oh, like you know anything about sample sizes and shit.”

Kidd shrugged, but the line in his forehead deepened. He cracked another tallboy.

Law gripped his own beer can in the uncomfortable silence that followed, and then downed the rest all at once.

“Nother,” he wiped his mouth and Kidd raised an eyebrow but passed him a fresh one.

“Git it in ya.”

“Mhm.” Law took a deep swig and almost fucking barfed. “Sooo… you make that bike yourself huh?”

“...yeah,” Kidd's face lost the put-out look and split into a grin. “Or whatever, I just added some stuff and changed other stuff… actually, it's…”

That got another good long ramble out of the redhead, full of startling laughter and crass parallels with female body parts. Law wondered idly if Kidd was actually familiar with any female body parts, or whether this was just how people in Pit-town talked.

“Hm?” Law sat up straight, realizing that Kidd had asked him something. His brain was definitely all swimmy now.

“Or I can give you a lift back now. It's a long way to the Rez.”

“I'm not from the Rez, I live down the highway. I can just hitch my way back, it's not a big deal." Law looked at his phone—after midnight.

Kidd was giving Law a look, like he wanted to say something about that, but then grunted and downed his beer instead. “Here, for today,” he said, taking an envelope out of his pocket and pushing a few folded bills into Law's hand.

“Thanks.”

“If you're free tomorrow I'll be working again at noon. And like I said, you can stay here tonight if the trip out is—”

“Oh!” Law felt his face heating up again. “No, I gotta get home. My dad's gonna kill me as it is. I'll come back tomorrow, though, okay?”

“Okay! Or, whatever, good.”

“Yeah.” Law stood and started stuffing things back into his backpack. “Okay see ya tomorrow.”

Kidd gave him a flippant salute and cracked another beer.

Pulling on his sneakers at the door, Law felt a little tug at his pant leg.

“Law, you are going to go?” Nami worried.

“Yup, gotta go home.”

“Law, you won't be here if you go,” she started snuffling.

Law picked her up and put her back in her bed. “I'll come back tomorrow. Okay?”

“No.” She hid under the blanket and kept snuffling.

He hesitated. “I have to go.”

“She’ll get over it in a minute,” Kidd told him from the doorway, leaning backlit against the frame with crossed arms. “It's better not to draw it out.”

Law looked at the little lump among the cushions and shrugged. He stood to go.

The redhead chewed at his tongue piercing and watched him. “Okay, I don't wanna be weird about this, but like. It's the Pit. And you're... You know?”

Law wasn't getting it. “I'm...?”

“C'mon, you stick out. And it's really late, and it's just past check day, and… it'd really just be faster if I gave you a ride.”

Oh, fucking chivalry or whatever.

“So I'll put my hood up,” Law dismissed this.

“It’s the Pit, though,” Kidd said again.

“... See you tomorrow.” Law left without drawing it out any further.

Law got halfway through the village before someone pulled up next to him, apparently to offer him further unwanted courtesies.

“Looking for a place to stay?” the man offered.

“Just heading home,” Law deflected.

This didn't seem to be the answer the guy wanted, and he followed Law in his pickup at very close range, until they got to the village limits and the end of the street lights. Law gripped his phone in his pocket. He heard the truck door slam just as he went to detour off the road between two houses.

Law tried not to back away as the guy advanced. “I'll call the police.”

“I am the police,” the man pointed to the badge on his belt.

"Shit..."

"And you're trespassing."

Law held onto his phone, a harsh roaring steadily growing in his ears. The smart thing would be to play dumb and helpless so he wouldn't fucking get shot, and just hope someone came by… but the man went to grab him and he panicked just as the roar peaked. Law snapped the fist holding his phone into the man's temple, and it made a loud crunch. A couple more frantic strikes sent the pig down in a confused pile of limbs.

Well he'd fucking done it now. Maybe he could run before—

“Oohhh shit, haha,” someone commented.

Law glared over at Kidd, who was sitting there on his noisy rat bike, peering at the man on the ground.

“Hi?” Law crossed his arms.

Kidd scratched his neck. “Saw him drive past after you left, and figured… yeah. I was just gonna come and like, bam! Do a drive-by with a crowbar. But that Rocky shit was actually way cooler, haha. Is that a brass knuckles phone ring?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah…” Kidd considered the lump on the ground. “Kay, well. Can I drive you home now?”

“...” Law really, stubbornly wanted to refuse.

“Just so you can see how Marlene here rides,” Kidd patted the motorcycle. “Did I tell you I built her?”

Law's tension cracked and an incredulous laugh bubbled out. “Yeah. You told me. She's a beauty.” Kidd passed him the helmet and Law slid into place behind him.

“She’s a rubber-tit, chain-smoking old blacklung biddy, fuck yeah she's a beauty. You can ride her all day and night, she don't get tired.”

Law had been wondering how he'd get all the way home like this without popping a boner, but that mental image cleared it up.

“Uh,” Law gave the unconscious cop a guilty glance, “should we get this guy somewhere…?”

“Oh, I'll just call his wife to come get him, I guess,” Kidd snorted at the pathetic pile and took out his phone.

“You know him?”

“Everyone knows everyone here… hold on a sec. Hey, Mrs. Kyle? Yeah I just seen Kevin going off tryna fight that goose again.”

“Fuckin what??” Law snickered.

“Yeah, Cobb Road. Looked like he'd taken a good one on the head already. I dunno who taught that thing to make a fist. Yeah, anyway. Yeah, bye.” Kidd hung up, nodding to himself like that was it.

“No one's gonna believe that shit,” Law objected.

“Oh the goose? That's real, the thing's a monster. I think they should just shoot it but there's a pool on who'll defeat it in hand-to-hand combat.”

“...okay. Sure.”

“It's the Pit,” Kidd explained again.

Kidd tied a bandana onto his face as a windguard, and they pulled out of the village and onto the highway. It was fall but the air was warm and smelled like tar. Law held onto Kidd's waist and directed him by patting his arm and pointing. The smokestacks receded behind them, though the tar smell lingered on through the treeless landscape. Eventually Law signaled for them to stop.

Kidd pulled off the highway and stopped just under the lone streetlight at the turnoff. He looked around. “This is just a carpool lot. I might as well take you all the way home, right?”

“Nah, my Dad's already gonna be pissed that I'm out this late. If I ride up on a bike smelling like booze… yeah.” Law passed him the helmet and dismounted. “It's not far from here, I'm good now.”

Kidd was still processing the first part. “Aren't you in uni? You still have a curfew?”

Law shrugged. “He's strict. He just worries. Though, yeah, he's nowhere near as protective about my fuckin brothers so—”

At that exact moment Law's brain registered the whine of a familiar car, and he had to grip his bag to keep from bolting. He relaxed slightly when he saw it was just the Volvo.

“Hey Lawnboy,” Bellamy chuckled, leaning an elbow out the window.

“Hiii Law,” a gawky, sharp-eyed girl chirped from the passenger seat.

“Monet, my dream girl,” Law flirted mildly, leaning on the door frame. Monet giggled and Bellamy scowled.

“That your ~boyfriend~?” the blond troll mocked, jabbing a thumb at Kidd, who tensed and sneered.

“Yeah,” Law shot back.

There was a pause.

“Really???” Monet scrambled to get a good look at them both. Bellamy's face went slack with shock.

Kidd stuffed his head into the safety of his helmet.

“What're you doing?” Law questioned the helmeted Kidd.

“He's shy!” Monet squealed. “Ahhhh you guys are perfect!”

“Are you blushing?” Law tried to flip up the mirrored visor and Kidd held on stubbornly, shaking his head.

“Law, bring him to Hawk's place with us, I'll make youse guys’ drinks!! I got sourpuss and peach schnapps!”

“They're not coming to Hawk's,” Bellamy told her sullenly.

“Shut up Bellamy. Law, you guys coming?”

Law demurred. “Gotta work tomorrow, Monet-fique. Nother time.”

“Aw.”

“See you at home, Bellyache,” Law dismissed his pouting brother, who scowled.

“‘Babysitting’, huh. I'm telling Dad you're hoeing it up in the Pit,” Bellamy threatened.

Monet punched him in the shoulder. “Oh my god Bellamy no you're not. Later, Law! Byyye, strong silent boyfriend!”

Bellamy took his cue and screeched away.

Law turned back to Kidd, who was still hiding under his helmet. “Sorry. That was my brother. It just seemed like the best way to get him to leave.”

Kidd gave a slight shrug.

“So. See you tomorrow?” Law shouldered his bag.

Kidd nodded.

“Thanks for the ride. And for dinner and stuff…”

“Yeah it's whatever,” came Kidd's muffled voice.

“Oh yeah I mean, whatever.” Law started off down the road.

“Uh…! Thank you too, for… coming...” Kidd called after him a few steps later.

Law stopped and looked back awkwardly.

“...And for being chill about Nami's issues, and the house, and dealing with that creeping fucker… You don't have to come back after that crap. And if all this is gonna get you in trouble with your dad anyway,” Kidd offered in a nervous jumble, as Law wandered back over and stood there, feeling suddenly sad.

Law had had his share of sweet goodbye kisses under this streetlight, when he'd been a little younger and a little less worried about everything. He kinda really wanted another like that right now… But Kidd was holding onto the helmet on his head like a life preserver. And a kiss seemed like such a shallow, wrong-headed kind of assurance to offer against all ‘that crap.’

Law leaned in, and bonked his forehead lightly against the glossy helmet instead.

“Well, pick me up tomorrow, at the highway. So I don't gotta risk crossing the goose,” Law shrugged too, like it really was all just whatever.

He couldn't see Kidd's face but he could see his heaviness lift.

“You got it, Cap.”

The scruffy redhead leaned into his bike and the road, and became a fading engine roar in the dark. Law walked home slowly.

[youngwidowofbrooklyn]

Heads. In front of people.

This week I did something I’d never done before. I stood on a stage and read something that I wrote in front of a crowd. The assignment was to create a piece seven minutes in length that somehow related to the concept of “Heads.” I went through several drafts, beginning with the notion of “Heads versus Tails” and ending up somewhere very different. Below is the first draft I wrote.

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

Heads.

Heads or tails. Right and wrong. Up and down. Here or there. Kill, fuck, or marry. Death is not an option.

Life is all about choices.

Two roads diverge, and which do you choose? Robert Frost, the pretentious fuck, chose the road less traveled and la-di-da for him.

Meryl Streep, dear Sophie, said to the Nazis “Take my girl!” and regretted her choice for the rest of her life. {Spoiler alert: Did she? I actually never saw “Sophie’s Choice” but I can never miss an opportunity to reference it}

It’s a matter of life and death, make a choice, the beginning or the end. The choice our protagonist makes at the beginning of the novel that sends her on an unexpected journey, and the courageous choice our hero makes at the end of the film to stay and fight and save the poor villagers when the odds are stacked against them.

We love to talk about beginnings and ends. Heads and tails. There’s romance in the newness of a fresh perspective, and there’s cathartic closure that comes in the resolution.

But that’s all bullshit. I call “heads” and we wait, collectively as the coin flips in the air, and some of you - you fuckers - are silently whispering to yourself, “Be tails, be tails, be tails.” And a moment later the reveal comes, and it’s all over. I’m either a winner or a loser. Well, the joke’s on you because I don’t choose. I’m fucking both.

I used to be a person who believed in right and wrong. I used to believe in good guys and bad guys. I used to have been a person who hadn’t experienced much living yet.

2014 was the year after my son was born. It was two years after I’d finally made a the decision to try to have a child before time ran out. In the what seemed like the last moment, we chose to  make another person, my husband and I. And as soon as we got pregnant, we had revealed our secret doubts about this choice we’d made. Could we do it? Could we actually put ourselves second and raise a human being up to be good?

My husband was more nervous than I was, for reasons he’d have to explain, I won’t try to armchair analyze his neuroses. Whenever I had moments of doubt, I was always fortified by the knowledge that my kid would get to have my husband as a dad. My husband: impossibly cool, practical, fastidious, kind and quiet.

My husband: in many ways the yin to my yan. He from a freakishly functional and loving family of educated Southern Democrats. The kind of people who call each other to….talk to each other, because….they love each other? And…are genuinely curious about how each other are feeling?

Me: I’m a fucking Tasmanian devil of skinned knees and dirty socks thrown on the coffee table. Me, the spontaneous one, the one who laughs too loud at shows and gets stink eye from other audience members, who can’t remember to pay bills on time and will jaywalk across streets without looking EITHER WAY, and who has broken a two twice this year, just walking around and not walking where I’m going.

My son’s name - no shit, this is true - my husband thought of his name, and we agreed on it primarily because, as he said, “It sounds really good when you angrily yell it.” And it does. That’s my husband. The practical one, the one much better at planning for the future than me.

So, anyway. 2014. The summer before our son turned 1. The summer that my husband first noticed the blue-black bruises of unexplained origin on his leg, that left his doctors scratching their heads.

After weeks of tests, they admitted to the hospital - about three weeks before our baby turned 1. They needed time to make a diagnosis to figure out what was wrong and how to correct it and he had to stay in Mt Sinai Hospital in Manhattan while they figured it out.

I’m not here to talk to you about my husband’s illness, though. I’m here to tell you about the year that I spent - every day - making an impossible choice. You see, here’s the thing, the only thing they knew for a very long time was that my husband’s immune system had been blown to smithereens. And when you have no immune system the last person you should have contact with is a tiny drooling person who doesn’t obey simple commands and who carries a bag full of human waste with them at all times.

One year. Every day, I had a choice to stay with my amazing baby boy and watch him take his first steps, say his first words and inch closer and closer to the funny, smart and silly dude that he turned into. Or, to take two subway trains and one bus from our Brooklyn apartment to the upper east side of Manhattan to put on a hospital gown, a mask and latex gloves to play countless hands of gin rummy with my quarantined husband.

Heads or tails. Every day.  Life or death? Every day I chose, and every day I regretted my choice. Sitting on the subway hurtling underground toward one half of my heart and away from the other.

Head or tails. How do you choose when those are the stakes? When both options will break your heart?

That year concluded almost exactly a year later, two weeks before my son’s birthday. My year of impossible choices ended like this:

Me and a stable of doctors in a shabby waiting room on the 11th floor. Something something this infection has made it’s way to his head. Blah blah irreparable brain damage.  There are two options. Which do you choose, m’am, as power of attorney?

Well, here’s the wisdom I have to impart to you after a year of playing heads or tails with those stakes. Choose whatever. There’s no right or wrong. Choose the road most traveled, for all it fucking matters. Just keep your fucking head out of your phone, walk to the right side and let the fast walkers pass you on the left side when you do, for Christ’s sake.

Your choices in life take only moments. The beginning of the book is one sentence. The end of the film is one scene.

It’s all the shit you do in between those choices that really matter.

Choose to look at the people around you. Choose to call your brother just to ask him how he’s doing even though he never even called you to offer his condolences. Choose to forgive yourself for all the times you chose wrong. Choose heads. Or tails. Or both. Or neither. And in between all those choices, choose kindness, always.

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

This was my first pass on the topic, and I sat on it for about a week, before attempting to sculpt it into something that felt more honest and less manipulative.

This was the version that came next.

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

I did not choose heads. I chose tails. Didn’t matter, though because I was actually assigned heads in this round of “Head vs. Tails,” which - ironically - seems to imply that a person has freedom to choose.

I did not choose to be here, either. Here in my life, this is not what I chose for myself. I chose an alternate version of my life. I chose the thing that so many of my peers and people in my age group choose: to get married, to have a child, to settle down, and by virtue of those choices avoiding the hellscape of online dating and the possibility of growing old alone, with only my collection of cats and parakeets to keep me company.

That’s what I chose for myself. But the universe chose something else.

So. Heads or tails? You want the good news first or the bad? You’re going to hear both, so it’s not really a choice. But isn’t it nice to feel like your preferences matter in this great big fucking universe that - lets face it - hardly even notices whether you exist or not?

So, tails it is. Bad news first, which is lucky because it allows me to end on an uplifting note. And everyone loves a happy ending, right?

The bad news is that your choices don’t matter. But that doesn’t mean not choosing is an option. You must. You must keep going, you must keep choosing. Even if you choose wrong over and over again. In fact, the ultimate paradox is that even in not choosing you still have made a choice. I’m aware that I am paraphrasing a lyric from a Rush song, and even though I think they are a shitty band, I cannot argue with their logic.

If you know me, then you are thinking to yourself right now, “Oh shit, Jen’s gonna stand on stage and talk about when her husband died and left her widowed and alone to parent their toddler.”

I’m not here to talk to you about my husband’s illness, though. I’m here to tell you about the year that I spent - every day - making an impossible choice. You see, here’s the thing, the only thing they knew for a very long time was that my husband’s immune system had been blown to smithereens. And when you have no immune system the last person you should have contact with is a tiny drooling person who doesn’t obey simple commands and who carries a bag full of human waste with them at all times.

One year. Every day, I had a choice to stay with my amazing baby boy and watch him take his first steps, say his first words and inch closer and closer to the funny, smart and silly dude that he turned into. Or, to take two subway trains and one bus from our Brooklyn apartment to the upper east side of Manhattan to put on a hospital gown, a mask and latex gloves to play countless hands of gin rummy with my quarantined husband.

Heads or tails. Every day. Life or death? Every day I chose, and every day I regretted my choice. Sitting on the subway hurtling underground toward one half of my heart and away from the other.

He didn’t choose that fate. Neither did I. We collectively called “Tails!” as the coin spun in the air, “Tails! We choose to beat this and grow old together and one day tell our grown son, TOGETHER - about the most surreal and scary adventure that our little family went on and how we beat it - we beat the big, scary monster that was a terrifying and rare disease, and an army of apathetic and jaded New York hospital staff members! That’s our choice! And when the coin finally landed, the universe hollered back, “It’s heads, fuckers.”

That was two and a half years ago. I struggle regularly with how to exist in a world where my own personal “worst case scenario” has already played out. I look at older couples walking together and know that it won’t be us. I see children on an outing with their fathers and - okay, first I think how fucking lucky that mother is that she has a fucking moment to herself, is she taking luxurious bath now? Or sleeping? Oh jesus christ I miss sleeping like I can’t even tell you

- and after that passes I think to myself, “What did my kid do to deserve this fate? He didn’t get a single, fucking daddy and son outing and it’s not fucking fair to do that kind of shit to a child!”

In my darkest hours I feel like a walking example of the life that no one wants to live. Sometimes the weight of my grief collapses square into my chest and turns me into the world’s saddest navel gazer. I stand here before you, the central character of the saddest story of all time: The Tragic Tale of The Young Lover Who Had and Then Lost Everything. The title is long, I know, but apt.

But as I promised, there is good news, too. And the good news is that your choices do not matter.

The universe is so vast and we are so tiny and very little of what we say or do matters all that much.

I know expect me to have a very bleak world view at this point. But I don’t. I promise you. I have found a freedom in knowing that the universe will not change irreparably with the choices that I make.

I am one tiny part of the universe. My grief is nothing compared to some people in other corners of this planet. I have lost one half of my heart. Yes. But I have also known love in a true and profound way and I am a better person for it.

I am a heartbroken person. Yes. But every day, I choose to be happy. I choose to have things to look forward to. I choose to laugh with my child.

The universe isn’t watching to make sure I’ll be okay. The universe will be just fine if I collapse and disappear. I could drink myself to sleep every night and stumble through my waking life. I could choose to let relatives raise my child. I feel like many people would understand if I did.

But I do not choose that path. I choose to get up. Again. And again. The universe expects me to choose “Heads.”

Fuck you, Universe. I choose “Tails.”

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

And I liked that draft just fine. But, as the date of the performance approached, I began to like it less and less. So with less than a day left, I endeavored to come at the topic from a very different approach. This is where I landed, and this is what I stood onstage and said. It feels like exactly what I wanted to say, in a way that I wanted to say it, to talk about my pain, my fumblings at being a good person, without asking for pity and by making fun of my sadness - mostly because that’s the only way I can bear it myself. Here it is, the final version, for all of my friends who could not be there to hear me say it out loud.

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

According to my tax returns, I am the head of my household, but this is surely an error. I am, in no way qualified to head up an entire household, let alone one containing myself, a small child and four small domesticated animals besides.

I plan to appeal this decision to the highest authorities, if need be. The following is a list of reasons why I should be removed from this position post haste.

1. I have totaled two cars and one bicycle, so far.

2. Assuming I was the most qualified person for the job, I have pierced my own ears, and my nose, several times, using safety pins, sewing needles and other pointy and unsanitized instruments.

3. I believe that food you do not pay for has zero calories.

4. I am suspicious of blonde haired people.

5. I have broken my arm three times over the course of my life, broken a toe twice in the past year, required stitches to close a gash in my wrist after being locked out of my apartment and deciding the prudent way to regain entry was to punch through the glass panel in the front door, and I once got high and laughed so hard for so long at my then-boyfriend saying the word “Snarf,” that I actually bruised my lung and had to be treated at an emergency room.

6. I consistently walk across intersections without looking in EITHER direction.

7. I am 42 years old, and I have not yet mastered the art of not peeing in my pants during awkward social interactions.

8. I once got high on Rush’s tour bus.

9. Despite all evidence to the contrary, I strongly believe that it is possible that I could be killed by a great white shark that someone put in a swimming pool as a prank.

For these reasons I feel I should be exempt from consideration for head of anything. I have throughout my life exhibited a pattern of irrational behavior and poorly conceived ideologies. I cannot - no matter how many reminders I put in my phone - remember to pay my bills on time. No matter how much I want to be an organized and orderly person, my home is still a mess of dirty socks on the coffee table and dishes are not loaded into the washer until I’ve resorted to eating cereal out of a vase with chopsticks.

If - for some inexplicable reason - the aforementioned anecdotal evidence I’ve presented is insignificant to persuade you of my poor qualifications for this title, please allow me to submit one final fact about myself. It concerns the manner in which I became head of my household.

Two years, six months and nine days ago. I was sat in a shabby waiting room on the 11th floor of Mount Sinai Hospital. Across from me sat three doctors, a nondescript white man, a south asian man, who did most of the talking, and a white woman with blonde hair (pause) who looked ready to burst into tears at any moment. They called me “Mrs. Bateman” - which was confusing because that’s my mother in law, not me.

“As you know, Mrs. Bateman, your husband began showing signs of confusion two days ago, and we’ve been working to diagnose the precise cause of it. Something-something an infection, Ma’am. This infection has made it’s way into his head. We’ve done some tests, and so on and so forth, and given the size of his pupils at this point, blah blah irreparable brain damage. So, Mrs. Bateman, we have to ask you - what would you like us to do? Did your husband ever discuss....etc., etc.?”

They asked ME these questions. As if I could be trusted with something of this magnitude. I don’t read operating instructions. I don’t save receipts. I don’t balance my checkbook.

Suddenly, it was up to me to say “I don’t think he would want this.” My husband who - incidentally - as the son of two educators, LOVED doing homework, was maddeningly meticulous and always paid our bills on time, had a 401K and great health insurance, HE was the head of the household. He was the brains of our operation. I was the often misguided but usually well-meaning heart of it. Not only am I not equipped to replace him, but I cannot bear that my first order of business in doing so was to give my permission for him to die.

So you see, surely there has been some sort of clerical error. It should have been me. I should have been eaten by a shark in a pool.

Because if that would’ve happened, sad as he would’ve been, my husband would’ve known what to do after. He was always much better at planning for the future than I was.

I can tell you for sure that HE wouldn’t have put MY ashes in a ziplock baggie that he accidentally let burst inside his purse.

Of course, it is possible that the authorities will reject my plea to step down from this post I did not campaign for. I do have a contingency plan, in that event. 

I look at my son. Four and a half years old now, he is. Blonde haired. And in his face, I see his father, as everyone who knew his father does. I see his calm reason and his reassurance in my panicked moments and in my grief that everything is going to be okay. Even if it’s hard. Even if it seems like it will never be okay again. And I remind myself that even though it does not come natural to me, it does not FEEL like it is me, I do know how to be sensible, practical, to not make rash or reckless decisions. I know how because these are the ways in which my husband balanced me. And if I close my eyes, I can still see him inside my head, telling me what he would do if he were here.

And so, if I must claim the title of head of household, head of my family, chief decision maker, I know that I am not doing it alone. He’s still here and I accept the title in his honor.

[opulvnts-blog]

the war is over ??  the day is Finally here ?? ( vine kid vc ) sup fuCKERS ! . im sahar, 20, est n’ i suck major ass tbh and i have nothin’ interesting to say abt myself except that i’ve eaten chocolate chip cookies three times in one week and i hope i choke one day , and i love everything about sad movies .  !!! god now since this rp is open ill die for ur mfing characters, fuck me up with them plots . plz like this and come and plot w me ,   u won’t regrat plotting wit me cuz i’ll show u a good time boo boos . ps . i wrote this at 4 am so y’all better tell me smth nice about kennedy or im fucking done . ily all .. 

shes a vegan. wont tell anyone bc she vv reserved . like if u asked how are u she will say smth like ‘ fuck ouuta here fucking fuckboi ‘ and like whenever u get her very pissed off she will say fuck in every single sentence . like ‘ yo dude what the fuck ?? what in the actual fuck are u fucking kidding fucking piece of shit oh my fucking gof fuck bitch” she’s not a bitch or anything she just … toO MUCH ! she also thinks of herself as superior . at times, she can even come across as sickly sweet or just kind in general . SHES incredibly wise and have good judgement when it comes to the people in their lives or the situation at hand. they may not necessarily be too book smart but it’s definitely balanced out by the extent of their street smart/wise. if she’s got an opinion, you can guarantee she’s going to voice it to the highest of volumes. it doesn’t matter whether you’ve known her for 10 years or are complete strangers on the street, she won’t hesitate to share her opinion on the matter. especially if she disagrees with yours. she’s assertive, awfully blunt and arrogant. 

HERE ARE SOME VINES THAT I ASSOCIATE WITH KENNEDY :  HERE  . HERE. HERE ANDHERE  

OK NOW OFF TO HER BIO !

her dad was a very quiet man who was soft and kind and just a goof and she was… the opposite. they got along great when she was a kid but as soon as her teenage years came she just turned into a rebellious ball of shit tbh. her dad could not handle her, even tho he tried his best. he wasn’t the yelling type at all and he’d try to make her realize she was a handful thru calm words but KENNEDY was just yolo. she wasn’t good in school. absolutely sucked at math and any science. didn’t kno the difference between geometry and algebra until 8th grade, thought she was doing the same shit. basically every science is the same. but !! she was v good in english class. like, that was her only good subject besides PE bc she was sporty as fuck and got way too intense about it also she was lowkey a bully but only bullied boys because she felt a strong need to make them suffer and she has a lot of good memories about it  jhdjsdns

 JHGDFGHSYCTG like deadass would beat guys up and be like cOME ON MY GRANDMA COULD FUCKNG TAKE U !!! she would make them m i s e r a b l e things were always kind of tense between kennedy and her mom they never really got along ??? her mom rlly resent kennedy for who she is  even though kennedy really mfing tries to be a good person for her mom to accept who she is as a person.

things got a little better  when kennedy was 6 and her little brother mikkel was born. except………things only got worse a few years later?? there was an accident where mikkel got hit by a car when kennedy was walking him home from school.obviously the entire family was grief-stricken. they just lost their 6 year old son. it was awful. kennedy’s mom blamed herself, kennedy blamed herself and her dad blamed kennedy too. they moved around a lot after their son, kennedy’s brother died,, to different states but never out of the us and it was like none of them could rly talk about it with each other either. her parents started to fight a lot and they each had different ways of dealing with their grief. her mom went out on some crisis and had a string of affairs , while her dad turned to alcohol and abuse to deal with his grief.

her dad left her mom, after the incident. her mom got rlly fucked up like she will go to parties and act like she was 18. kennedy  lived with her mother who appeared to be involved in a few crimes . kennedy appeared to be more responsible than her mother at this point lmao . they got into a car accident under the influence of them celebrating her mother’s birthday. kennedy wasn’t the one driving, but she switched seats with her mother so she wouldn’t get in any more trouble which led to kennedy going to jail for a but bc she was underage .

the cops were like well shes has no one speical so lets leave her with her dad . her dad rlly couldn’t take care of kennedy because well .. he was a mess. he was always pass out on the couch with beer stains on his shirt and a pizza box on the floor.  mia was basically an accident/surprise to her father. he had no desire whatsoever to have kids after her brother’s incident.

 sometimes kennedy would come to school with bruises on her face. she remembers the snatches of convos between girls warning each other to steer clear of the leach, and wonder what they would say if she told them that everytime her father gets drunk she’s not sure being her father’s daughter will grant her immunity. She knew people could tell with one glance, one look, one simple instant. It was her eyes. Despite the thick makeup, they were still dark-rimmed., haunted, and sad. Most of all though, they were familiar. The fact that we were in front of hundreds of strangers changed nothing at all. She spent a summer with those same eyes-scared, lost, confused-staring back at herself. Anyone she was close with would have known them anywhere. she couldn’t sleep at night knowing that her parents will abuse her for anything that she will do. she spent countless of nights staying up, making sure that she wouldn’t have any slip ups in the morning when she woke up

 she spent the rest of her senior year shut off from the world as she grieved not only her brother, but the girl she used to be. she’d always been expected to go on to university & do something that would make a hell of a lot of money, but as her classmates got busy filling out their college applications, she holed up in the school’s auto-shop, learning how to work on cars.a few months after graduation, her grandfather passed ( of natural causes, thank god ) & she received a hefty inheritance. her classmates and teachers, lmao,  watched in horror as their precious gem of a daughter shelled out thousands of dollars to purchase her own garage, with plans to become a mechanic. she's not rich,  but she does have her own money . gives her a opportunity to say ‘at least i got here all by myself and not with mommy’s or daddy’s money’ heh…. 

kennedy  is somewhat emotionally stunted. her remaining friends from high school have all gone their separate ways & she hardly speaks to any of them. she’s dabbled in a romantic relationship here or there, but most of them have ended badly. basically? she’s a disaster. 

[lgbtloudhouse]

The fall of Lgbtloudhouse. A Story based on real events. An au of reality.

Depression. It wasn’t as bad as it seemed, for a certain young girl… at least not in their eyes… Celeste B was a normal fangirl. She would laugh and cry over things people called “for kids”.. Well, it was for kids! And she still was a kid, so she enjoyed the things she liked to do. Drawing, editing, watching The Loud House and obsessing over the characters. She loved the show and it was one of her favorite things to watch. She would make connections with them and pick out things about them that she would relate to. “Ok, come on, Luan is gay as hell and y'all know it.” She said to no one in particular, but just thinking out loud. She would just browse tumblr looking at some of her favorite blogs and the ones she makes friends with. They were one of the reasons she lift her head up and smiled. Until one day. Let’s just say to summarize it, she was mentally unstable and ill. She took meds for it, but she still had her moments. Her weaknesses. Her downfalls. It turned dark.

Celeste was scrolling through one day and came across something disturbing. People were calling her out. She looked closer, confused and worried. “Its just a drawing, get over it!” “Wow, I can’t believe some little kid is getting triggered over a simple drawing. Jump only drew an oc!” “Lmao damn sjw’s crying again kys”

“W-what.??” Celeste felt something hit her heart. Was this really happening? /oh.. well, it’s nothing. I’m pretty sure it’s just some trolls…/ But she’ll come soon to know that it was more than just trolls she was dealing with.

-some while later- Celeste was doing well. Drawing random lil things here and there. Going on tumblr was hard, but she still loved it. …..

“Oh.. oh my GOD!!!” Celeste put her hand over her mouth in fear. What is this… this… thing she’s looking at? “Did.. they… they… drew PORN of me???” She was shaking, trying not to cry. She needed to talk to someone about this.

Her friends. The safe squad.

She opened up her messages.

Lgbtloudhouse: Queenie! I.. I found something, it’s very very disturbing.. QB: what is it? *lgbtloudhouse sent a link* QB: oh my lord.. These trashies don’t know when yo stop. I can’t believe they’d stoop to such a low level. I’ll handle it. For now, block aval0nx and report it. Lgbtloudhouse: ok..

Celeste was sitting in her room, just trying to ignore everything. Why would someone so such a thing to a mentally ill teenager who only wanted some peace? She sighed, and went to bed.

-some days later-

Celeste had a huge headache. Dealing with internet creeps was not going well for her. She tried to ignore it, but each time she would make it feel bad about herself. She still couldn’t believe what happened. She just wanted a break, but she couldn’t.. She didn’t know why, or what was holding her back, but she knew it wasn’t good.

/time to see what’s going on again../ she thought.

“You are worse than cancer. You are incurable, never go away, and torments people for the rest of there life’s to the point where you want to kill yourself. I don’t think I need to explain why for both points.”

“Let’s see lgbtloudhouse use those insults later when she isn’t some snobby kid whos parents probably buy her everything she wants, she thinks the whole world has to bow to her just because she thinks we should. Lgbtloudhouse is just a spoiled brat. You can practically smell the friendlessness and bitch from that kid.”

“Lgbtloudhouse is a cunt.”

“She must be a real dumbass cunt if she thought she won. I will use the word strongly. Dumbass cunt.”

“Queenie is just using lgbtloudhouse. Like a tool. She doesnt care about her feelings”

“We may like fictional incest but for the love of God act better than lgbtloudhouse and safehouse!”

“New comic. Page 1/10. Chapter one: a "Celestial” being.“

/NO…/

/OH MY.. GOD…/

Celeste could not believe what she was seeing. Her mind felt like it was crumbling apart trying to stay stable.

/leave. I’m gonna leave./ she thought.

Upon finding more chaos.. she decided to take a break.

Until one day.

A fellow friend of hers decided to message her to inform her on what has happened. Something that she’d never seen before. Let’s call this guy, "Lines”. No shade or anything negative to Lines. But Celeste discovered something horrific that shook her to the core. He sent her some photos in warning to her.

“There’s something I found online.. and i think you need to see this..”

“Sure, what is it?”

*Lines sent a photo*

“Do the world a favor, and do the n— jig off the nearest tree.” One photo showed a Celeste glancing at a rope along with a Clyde dangling on a tree, dead, in the background. Sucide baiting. Something inside of Celeste broke. She couldn’t feel anything anymore.

“Also…”

*Lines sent a photo*

This is when the worst happened.

Celeste. Her being violated, drawn pornography of her and Lincoln was showed on her phone. Uncensored. With Lynn and Lars, loud house canon genderbents, watching and getting off in the front.

Celeste dropped her phone. Her family was out. She began to shake. Cry. Scream. Tear at her skin. Sobbing and crying hysterically, couldn’t take it anymore. She ran to the kitchen. Threw open the drawer. Grabbed the biggest knife she could find.

She tearfully ran back into her room. She turned off the lights and closed her curtains.

But grabbed a pencil and some paper and began writing.

Dear family,

Let me just explain why you are in this unfortunate situation. As you know, I love the loud house and I began to go on a site called tumblr. I found many sweet and lovely friends on there. Let me just give out their names because I really want my beautiful friends to thrive through this horrible time. They are: queenbean03, fangirl20, brighteronthesunnyside, adh2d, vanillafrappelatte, transfairycosmo, loud-siblings-against-loudcest, thebigcrunchone9, asknightvaleandgravityfalls, underratedhero, phandomtrashnumerouno, spectrumbunny, skwhy, sourbetes, thecyancat, summeroverdrive, hadenohade, kirby-universe, doctorgalaxy101, wonderingaboutwander, lifeismarvelous, tamamajasper, animatedtrash4, Adrianacartoonfangirl, and many other beautiful souls and friends. I’m so sorry this happned. I was going through tumblr and I started to get bullied. First it was insults, then name calling, then death and suicide threats, then drawn porn of me. Tell Caleb (my brother, 6), Ariel (sis, 5), grandma, and the family and my friends that I love them. I love you guys so much, but I can’t take this anymore. Love, Celeste.

She raised the knife over herself. And.. *thump*.

“Celeste! We’re home!” Celeste’s mother Jennifer called out. They brought home cheese pizza, which they knew she loved. They also noticed that she hasn’t been coming out of her room lately and looked noticeably sad. They got some pizza to make her happy again.

“Hmmm. Why are all the lights off?”

Celeste’s dad, Rich, shrugged.

“Maybe she wanted some dark.”

“Yeah, but all of them?”

“Yeah that’s weird. Caleb, go wake up your sister.”

“Okay!!!” Caleb was Celeste’s little brother. He can be a handful, but he’s still her brother. He, like his sister, has autism, adhh, ocd, and is in general very hyper but still loving.

He ran to her door and opened it.

She was laying on the floor.

Caleb ran out to tell their mom.

“Mom, Celeste is sleeping on the floor!”

Jennifer laughed. “You’re so silly Caleb. I’ll go get her.”

She walked over to her door. And screamed.

Laying on the floor, was her daughter Celeste. Dead.

“What the???!?!

She looked closer.. and gasped.

A knife was in her head.

She then saw, this was self-inflicted. Suicide.

-month later-

It was a dark and depressing day in South Carolina. Raindrops covered the graveyard like grass covering land. Despite it being summer everyone felt a chill inside their hearts.

"We are gathered here today to mourn the loss of daughter Celeste B. She was a wonderful spirit and lovely girl. But then the harsh pain of evil came over her in despair. May we all come together and this heavenly soul rest in peace. And may the world have peace in future cyberbullying to stop. And for acts of hate against this lady and other victims of cyberbullying to decrease quickly. Amen.”

It was a shame. Love will be found in all the right places. May we come together and figure out that what you say can have a impact on someone’s life. I am glad I never killed myself. I am strong but weak. Beautiful yet fragile. Loving yet fearless. Now what would you react if this actually happned and I did commit sucide? Love yourself and choose your ways carefully. Love eachother and find peace. I am strong for staying. Don’t give up for light or life. You are loved, my love.

[punkscowardschampions]

Ali & Carly

Ali: alright? Carly: yea Ali: you want any water, pain killers? Carly: k to both Ali: can have my headphones too if you can deal with my music taste Carly: you could sing to me tho Ali: i've got the pipes, yeah but not sure anyone else wants me belting over the racket Carly: idc about them Ali: yeah Ali: one of us gotta get home with a spotless record, tho Carly: You can't get in trouble for being loud Carly: Leesha knows that Ali: she just leads a charmed life 🍀 Carly: or 🔮 Ali: Didn't need no crystal ball to see through your plans, soz babe Carly: who does Ali: got further than you had any right Ali: poor woodfield on bog watch 'til dubo now Carly: ha Carly: gave her something to do Carly: but nobodys trying it again like Ali: reckon you're right Ali: no one got that kinda deathwish Carly: trying to kill me w a stare tho Carly: she loves it Ali: hmm Ali: less sure on that Carly: i am Carly: try it tho bitch Carly: feel 🕱 Ali: got until we get back Ali: that's when the real shit begins Ali: what're you gonna do carls Carly: idk idc Carly: theyre gonna do what they want Carly: & not like my ma & da will throw a fit Ali: sure? Ali: shame Ali: hoping your Da would move Drew on Carly: im not 12 now babe Carly: & he isn't a beautiful romany lad Carly: my ma will like the look of him i kno Ali: you're 14 Ali: still got a few more years of compulsorary giving a shit about you left Carly: yea Carly: but its no big Ali: you could get expelled Carly: nah Carly: didnt go anything cuz leesha had to speak up about it Ali: you blame her Carly: nah but its facts Carly: nothing happened Ali: I don't think that's how they see it Carly: k but Carly: idc Carly: forget it Ali: k but HOW Carly: what? Carly: dont worry about it babe k Carly: im not trying to Ali: I know you're trying to avoid a freakout but Ali: fucking hell Ali: why Carly: why what? Carly: whats your problem? Ali: only the same as yours Ali: not enjoying the chaos around us or the chaos waiting at home Carly: nah Carly: but worry about your sister Carly: this is nothing Ali: no it isn't Carly: just chatter Carly: weve heard it all before Ali: you're a we now yeah Carly: ha Carly: everyone on this coach has heard it & said it is what i mean Carly: dont be jealous babe Ali: Why would I be jealous? Carly: im only playing Carly: i kno youre not Ali: Whatever Carly: dont be mad at me Carly: be fun Ali: not feeling it Carly: baby come on Carly: why tho Ali: you actually need to ask? Carly: yea Carly: i havent done anything wrong Ali: it ain't about right or wrong Ali: it's still a mess and i'm over it Ali: that's all Carly: k Carly: but ive been a mess since we met & you cba about that before Ali: i didn't say you Ali: the situation Carly: theres no situation Carly: only sex that didnt even happen Ali: forget about it Carly: nah Carly: say what you wanna say Ali: okay, the fact he's fucking ruined this entire trip Ali: Ro had to go home Ali: and Laoise is taking the opportunity to cyberbully her about it as if she's not already fucked up enough from it Ali: and he's not even a little bit sorry that he just wasted the last 3 months of her life with his bullshit Carly: None of that's my bad Carly: be mad at him not me Ali: I am Ali: but I'm mad at you for not giving enough of a shit to not get dragged down in his crap either Carly: hes not dragging me anywhere but the bathroom Ali: bullshit Carly: nah Carly: youre making it something else Carly: its not Ali: the whole bus is slagging on you Ali: half of them wanna fight you Ali: and that's cos of this Ali: its not debateable its facts Carly: and what Carly: when dont they Ali: there was no need Carly: yea there was Ali: no worthwhile one then whatever Carly: worthwhile to me Ali: i really hope so Carly: wouldve been like Ali: i don't need to hear Carly: k Carly: be like that Ali: yeah i will Carly: why do you wanna fight w me? Ali: i don't Ali: you got your priorities i got mine Carly: but youre a priority you kno Ali: its alright Ali: let's leave this drama behind Carly: how tho Carly: youre still gonna be mad Ali: yeah but that is what it is Ali: nothing's going to change Ali: we'll both deal Carly: but Ali: idk Ali: idk what we do, if you think of something lemme know Carly: im sorry Ali: me too Carly: tell me what to do Carly: i wanna make you feel better Ali: I dunno, Carls Ali: its all already done Ali: not just you, all of us Carly: lets do something else Carly: go somewhere else Carly: whatever you want Ali: Oh, that reminds me Ali: Tommy's back, he asked if you wanna go out Carly: is it k w you if i come? Ali: yeah Carly: nah its weird Ali: no it isn't Ali: i don't wanna not see you Ali: fuck that Ali: its just this trip and him Carly: i only did it cuz he said hed hook me up when we got back Carly: i dont want him Ali: its alright Ali: you don't have to explain to me Carly: its not Carly: alright isnt how we feel you kno Ali: as far as this trip goes Ali: i'll take it, babe Carly: i shouldnt have come on it Ali: nah, don't say that Ali: apart from this shit Ali: it was good, right? Carly: but this shit happened cuz im not good Carly: my heads wrecked Ali: no Ali: it didn't Ali: yeah, you went there too but so did Laoise and it coulda been any girl Carly: she didnt fuck him for a hit tho Carly: why i gotta do that Ali: that hit of revenge Ali: worse reason, to be honest Carly: yea Carly: she is the worst we kno Ali: you're not bad Carly: im not an angel like you babe Ali: yeah you is Ali: can't fool me Carly: you cant stop being nice to me Ali: and what bitch Carly: youre meant to be mad Ali: i'm sick of it Ali: its not getting us anywhere so Carly: where you wanna get to baby Ali: better Carly: we'll start tonight Carly: out w your brother Ali: yeah Ali: fucking ray of ☀ that he is Carly: ha Carly: maybe ill find a nice girl at the club tho Carly: then youll be happy Ali: i don't wanna be that bitch about it Ali: just drew, babe, c'mon 😝 Ali: please tell me i ain't that bitch Carly: ha Carly: hes no worse than ronan tho Carly: to your sister k but not to me Ali: yeah and thinking 'bout how hard Ronan sucks made you cry the other day so Ali: 👀 Carly: dont Carly: he took your vs its so sad Carly: i wouldnt let goldie take mine nah Ali: I dunno what the fuck I was thinking Carly: youre too good Carly: you think everyone is Carly: 👼 Ali: nah Ali: I mean, he ain't the 😈 but he was bad enough for my purposes Ali: my stupid ass 🙄 Carly: nah you're too smart Carly: you knew what you were doing like Carly: been there had that fight w my ma Ali: the flashbacks not needed Ali: still got that 📢 in my ear Ali: though, probably gonna lay off a bit now Drew's showed Caleb up for the good boy he is Ali: awks Carly: its my turn Carly: thanks for turning up ma & da turn into his drama Carly: then turn away cuz nothing to see Ali: yours back home rn? Carly: nah but im sure theyll get the summons if the teachers kick off loud enough Ali: shit Ali: they gonna kill ya? Carly: theyll only be mad if their hol gets cut short but like they can go again when the teachers have had a word Carly: dont need a babysitter Ali: yeah, soz we can't come back we got free drinks here 'til next week so Carly: you kno Carly: gotta draw straws for which one shows up & who gets to keep the party going Ali: 1000 on ur dad showing up then Carly: yea Carly: plot twist my nan rocks up like it hasnt been years Carly: carly who bitch Ali: bitch same Ali: missing nan gang Ali: conspiracy, like Carly: i kno where she is but she not trying to kno us Carly: family fights like Carly: boring Ali: gurl, so much in common Ali: let tommo regale you with the fuckery Ali: other peeps drama always be more fun Ali: WELL Carly: hes such a gossipy bitch Carly: ill tell him about all this so he can have fun w Ali: beat u to the reveal honey but Ali: always more scandal I probably saved him from Carly: you been chatting about me Carly: aw Ali: yeah Ali: keep my slagging on the downlow Ali: wise up lads Carly: its k cuz youre creative Carly: its all slut, slag and whore w them Ali: truly Ali: switch it up Carly: drew did skank and he was wasted so its not hard Ali: 🤢 Ali: anything drew is capable of is basal Carly: wtf does that mean tho Carly: he calls me a bitch a lot like boy thats mine and my girl's thing k bye Ali: he talks a lotta shit for such a lil bitch boy himself Ali: yeah, back off Ali: ur not part of the gang Carly: he wants to be on you so bad that id feel bad but cant cuz yea hes a prick Ali: i can't Ali: why bitch Ali: like, i'm nice the rest of the time but like, no nicer to him than any other acquaintance Ali: and rn its clear i lowkey hate Carly: cos youre you Carly: who wouldnt want that Ali: 😽 Ali: always out here hyping me up boo Carly: yea i love you Ali: i love you too bitch Carly: serious tho Carly: im sorry Carly: i hate it when youre mad at me Ali: i swear i was never mad at you Ali: who could be mad at that lil face Ali: right teachers? 🤞 Carly: ha Carly: well they saw me making a seduction face like Carly: my bad Ali: don't act like you didn't love that too lads Carly: you kno Carly: youve seen it its good Ali: willing to write that review Carly: aww Carly: so sweet Carly: id give you top marks too baby Ali: you better 😒 Ali: don't be lying to me or yourself baby 😏 Carly: ha Carly: nah youre the best Carly: no lie Ali: 😳 Carly: so cute Ali: just trying make me have a huge head to drag my cute down Carly: nah you earned those props from me Carly: put a lot of work in Ali: no slacker 💪 Carly: facts Carly: lot of fun Ali: funsized Ali: that's my secret Carly: aw Carly: but were the same size tho Ali: exactly Ali: team pocket rocket Ali: get out giant boys Carly: your boy gotta stay cuz hes not i see you bitch Ali: 😎 Ali: you said yourself, i'm too smart Carly: 🖕 Ali: how tall is my brother Ali: forgot Ali: kick him out of his own partay how rude Carly: shit Carly: sorry boy Ali: can walk on his knees if he wanna hang Carly: or hands Carly: wtf would that make a difference nah Ali: nah babe Ali: that perfect form Ali: twat 😒😂 Carly: im too sober to have thoughts Carly: no scholarship to a fancy school for me Ali: don't be fooled, he only there 'cos he can twerk good 💅 Ali: #bitchmetoothefuck Carly: fuck why you worried about me getting expelled from here if thats what it takes to go there Carly: i got this Ali: you just gon leave me like that Ali: 😞 ok Carly: nah Carly: come w me baby Ali: running away to london Ali: heard worse plans Carly: you kno Carly: be fun Carly: we always have a good time running off together Ali: no lie Ali: maybe we can crash when he goes back early to get settled 'cos he's dramatic like that Ali: lots of fit boys, can't all be gay Carly: are they allowed to fuck Carly: or is it like footballers and shit Ali: Ooh Ali: we'll have to ask Ali: good pickup line, babe Carly: i'll ask your brother if hes getting any Ali: he'll die of embarrassment 💀 Carly: aw Carly: is he a virgin serious Ali: I think so Ali: he won't say obvs, withholding that ☕ so shady Carly: i'll ask Carly: find him a cutie to do the honors Ali: 🙈 Ali: he was feeling sorry for you but he gon' wanna square up now too Carly: yea? Carly: i need the practice if i gotta fight leesha again Ali: 😒 she better stay tf away if she knows what's good Ali: still, he used to being target practice Ali: he quick tho Carly: teach me those ballerina girl moves Carly: never went as a kid Ali: aww baby Ali: i did for the hottest of secs but Carly: bet your ma has pics im hitting her up Ali: yeah, she loves pissing herself @ me, the cow Ali: you can join now, or yoga with me, your fave 😉 Carly: nah Carly: got enough teachers on my case Carly: & bitchy girls Ali: 😱 Ali: i ain't that bad, rude Carly: never you my baby Carly: youre the only one who isnt Ali: bus full of bitches Ali: sounds like a song marlene would write Carly: pitch it to her Carly: or find her in the club Ali: maybe Ali: idk if she's got a girl rn Ali: we shall see Carly: me & her Carly: weird Carly: i'll ask her if shes feeling it Ali: oh lord Ali: can't play with her like a boy tho Ali: wifey'd up before you know it Carly: nah she scares me Carly: im a good wife tho Ali: you is Ali: but you wanna be? Carly: what? Ali: you don't wanna be no wifey Carly: not hers Ali: as long as not his either then we good Carly: ha Ali: 👀 Carly: what you saying w those beautiful eyes boo Ali: i see u and ur lack of a response is what i'm sayin Ali: honeyyyy Carly: dont Carly: i said about him before thats it Ali: i'm just playing Carly: dont Carly: he thinks it too Carly: such a prick Ali: i'm soz baby Ali: he thinks everyone loves him as much as he does Carly: yea Carly: i need to find a new dealer Ali: honey, in this town? done is done Ali: find one tonight Carly: so smart

[sugaskully]

DIE FOR YOU - chapter two

ALL PARTS - DIE FOR YOU

BTS bodyguard au

Words: 2405

C H A P T E R - T W O

[ 14 NOVEMBER 2018 ]

CLEOBELLA

I sighed, letting my pen drop onto my notebook after a few hours of reviewing old notes and making new ones before my mind blanked and I decided that I needed something else to pass the time.

Instinctively I reached into my pocket for my phone, frowning when I realised it was missing, standing up before brushing down my skirt and briefly glancing around my room for it.

I gave up fairly soon, shrugging my shoulders before heading towards my door, Namjoon glancing at me as I opened it and passed him, immediately hearing his footsteps follow. A sound I was going to have to get used to.

“Can I not visit my own kitchen without an escort?” I asked, my tone laced with irritation as the man present remained silent, continuing to follow me “Not in a talking mood?”

“It wouldn’t benefit me to argue with you, so no, I’m not in a talking mood.” Namjoon simply said.

Heading down stairs, I moved towards the left side of the downstairs instead of to the right where the kitchen was located, typing my father's office code into the keypad before scanning my fingerprint, slipping in before Namjoon could even register what had happened.

“Step out of the office.” He sighed, moving to the glass floor to ceiling window, watching as I folded my arms amusement.

I watched without speaking, knowing that the room was soundproofed to allow some sound in but none out.

“Miss Roman, please don’t make this difficult.” He said, moving closer to the window, causing me to do the same, challenging him as we stood face-to-face.

We stayed out for a few moments, just staring each other down before I sighed, heading across the room to the other door and heading out that way, giving me about 15 seconds between him and I.

From there it was easy to move around the rooms of the house, eventually ending up in the huge dining room that connected to the kitchen but before I could even think about entering the kitchen I noticed the six men sat at the dining room table.

Seokjin was looking through a folder, that upon closer examination had information on me, people I interacted with and the frequent places I would visit.

“Children’s hospital?” Seokjin asked, glancing over at me “Aren’t you a sweet one.”

“I read to them.” I crossed my arms, “I know how it feels to lose a sibling to an illness at a young age, I couldn’t imagine how it felt being in her place, so I visit the children and father donates often to aid their recovery.”

“Do you have a firearm?” Taehyung asked, causing me to turn to him, watching as he took apart his hand gun effortlessly before cleaning the individual pieces.

“Yes.” I nodded.

“You won’t be needing that.” Hoseok then said, standing up so that he was towering over me, but strangely he didn’t feel like he was trying to intimidate or threaten me, but comfort me “It’s best if you hand it over, wouldn’t want it ending up in the wrong hands and used against you.”

“It’s not on me.” I lied, watching as he smirked, his hand reaching around to my back before pulling up my sweater, cold fingers grazing against my skin as he located my gun before removing his hand agonisingly slow from under my sweater, eyes locked with mine the entire time.

“Hoseok.” I heard Namjoon suddenly say, looking unimpressed as the man turned to look at who I’m now guessing was the boss of this little security personnel of theirs “What are you doing?”

“Confiscating this, Namjoon.” Hoseok said, holding the gun up for him to see “For Miss Roman’s protection of course.”

“Right,” Namjoon nodded, “There’s no need for her to be armed if she has us by her side twenty-four-seven.”

I rolled my eyes, watching as Hoseok placed the gun on the table before sitting back down, and that’s when I noticed that Yoongi was sat leaning back in his chair, my phone in his hands.

“Is that my phone?” I asked, looking at him in shock, because I knew full well it was just from the case.

“Yes.” Jimin said, Yoongi not even bothering to look at from the phone “He’s just checking to see if anybody has tapped or hacked into it.”

“Wow.” I scoffed, “So, you… slipped that out of my pocket when I wasn’t looking?”

“Actually, I did.” Jungkook said, “It’s protocol. All for your own protection.”

“What if there’s something private on there?” I asked, “Like, I don’t know, a conversation that I wouldn’t want anybody to read, especially by someone I don’t know.”

“Is there?” Namjoon asked as Yoongi raised his eyebrows slightly.

“N-no.” I stuttered out, “But that’s not the point, there could have been.”

“But there isn’t, so what’s the problem?” Namjoon asked, challenging me.

Yoongi suddenly stood up, locking my phone before putting it in his pocket and walking off without a word. Come to think of it, I hadn’t heard him speak once, not to me, or even the others.

“Here,” Hoseok said, sliding another phone across the table “It’s the same version as your old one, but this is new and has a system that Yoongi created on it to allow us to monitor the activity and to see if anybody is trying to tap into it.”

“It’s like a fucking witness protection programme.” I whispered, picking up the phone before sighing “What about my contacts?”

“The only relevant contacts are already on there.” Namjoon simply said, “Us seven, your father and your uncle.”

“Fun, I can contact my obsessive bodyguards, my father and President Roman of the United States, my life is full of fun.” I rolled my eyes, “What about Jesse?”

“What about me?” I heard him ask, sighing in relief when I turned to see him stood in the doorway.

“Thank god, a normal person.” I said, moving to hug him.

“Cleo, oh my god, your head, I’m so sorry, I-!” He started.

“Stop apologising.” I interrupted, “It's just a bump.”

“I wouldn’t call it that.” Hoseok said, “You could have been seriously injured, and it’s our job to prevent that, so we’ll have to assess if Jesse’s friendship with you is good enough to allow the risk.”

“Risk?” I scoffed, “His job is just as important as yours, he works with you.”

“No, that’s not happening.” Namjoon shook his head, “He’s a liability.”

“Daddy said he could keep his job, and last I checked my father was your boss.” I said, turning to look directly at him “You’re just going to have to suck it up and deal with it, because it’s happening.”

“Interesting.” Seokjin said, not to anybody in particular, just observing the situation.

“He was my PPO long before anything bad happened.” I said, “And he did a good job at protecting me up until the slip up yesterday.”

“Miss Roman, you’re missing the point here.” Namjoon said, his tone showing that he was trying to remain calm and collected “With us, there will never be a slip up, we will never fail our job, unlike him.”

“And the difference between us is, we are Professional Protection Personnels, head of our profession, the best at our job.” Taehyung said, “Now, I’m not doubting Jesse’s ability, but based on yesterday’s ‘slip-up’ he doesn’t seem very fit for the position.”

“Give him a chance.” I said, my voice wavering slightly, silently cursing myself at how desperate I sounded at a time where I didn’t want to be “I need somebody here that makes me feel even the slightest bit normal, because you’re all treating me like I’m a target you need to protect when the attack yesterday was completely unrelated to any proof that people want to kill me.”

“With your father's position comes enemies.” Namjoon said, “His brother, President Roman, being the President of the United States, his connections with President Yang and working as the Chief of the South Korean Security Agency and intelligence service. You would be the prime target to punishing your father, your uncle or even President Yang, using you for access to the Intelligence Services of both America and South Korea is also another possibility. You have become one of America’s and South Korea’s greatest assets, all because of your family member’s positions in society.”

“That’s hardly fair.” I whispered to mainly myself.

“The world isn’t fair.” Namjoon shrugged, “And it’s our job to protect you from the people who want to hurt or kill you.”

“Having Jesse be a part of the Security personnel wouldn’t affect anything.” I stated, “His only flaw is time management but other than that he’s protected me countless times, and he’s one hell of driver.”

“Fine,” Namjoon said after a few moments of silence “He has one chance.”

“Thank you.” I smiled, trying to contain my excitement as Namjoon nodded once, keeping a straight and serious face “My father won’t be back for a few more hours, so I’m going out for lunch.”

“Where to exactly?” Seokjin asked, glancing up from the table as I frowned, thinking it over.

“Just a small cafe, not too far from here.” I shrugged, “Jesse takes me all the time, we shouldn’t be too long. It’s called Sulli’s and-”

“And it’s not on here.” Seokjin interjected, “It hasn’t been cleared as a safe place for you to visit.”

“It’s a cafe.” I deadpanned, “I know the owner, and I go there like three times a week, why didn’t my dad put it on the locations list?”

“Maybe he has a suspicion that it’s unsafe?” Namjoon suggested, “Is there anybody that works there who he doesn’t trust?”

“Not that I know of.” I frowned, “Why?”

“Wait, I know why.” Jesse sighed, all eyes turning to look at him “That’s where Seokhyun took you on your first date, he knows you visit that cafe, Cleo.”

“Is that it?” I scoffed, “Because my ex-boyfriend might bump into me?”

“Well, he did pistol whip you yesterday.” Namjoon said, looking at me like I was insane “And if that’s the case for the cafe being deemed unsafe, then you’re not going.”

“Are you serious?” I asked, looking at them each in turn.

“Why can’t you just order food to your house?” Jungkook asked, “Or like go to another cafe? Surely that’s safe enough and you can get the same things there.”

“Or I could spend the rest of my life locked in my bedroom?” I suggested sarcastically, “Whichever suits you.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes slightly before smiling in amusement, glancing over at Namjoon.

“She’s going to make this job very hard and interesting for us.” Namjoon said, “But like all the others, she’ll eventually give up her act and comply, it won’t be long, it never is.”

“Sounds like you’re challenging me.” I said, “And I always win.”

“Like I said, Miss Roman, I’m just doing my job.” Namjoon said, “We all are. And you should do your best to allow that, it’ll make this easier for all of us, especially you.”

“You’ve said that.” I nodded, “I just don’t think your way of ‘protecting me’ is necessary. It’s not like I have a target painted on my forehead.”

“That’s the thing, Miss Roman.” Namjoon said, jaw locked in place “You do.”

I didn’t know how to reply, I mean, who would know how to reply to such a statement? Instead I walked past them and into the kitchen, walking around the white marble island before resting my elbows on the countertop, my face in my hands.

“Something wrong?” I heard a voice ask, lifting my head from my hands to see Seokjin stood in the arch doorway, observing my state.

“No,” I said, taking a deep breath in “I’m fine.”

“The Police Officer’s car just arrived at the Security Gate.” Seokjin said, changing the subject “He’s here to take your statement.”

“I don't have a statement.” I shook my head, watching as Seokjin let his head fall back with an exasperated sigh.

“How do you expect people to protect you if you don't give us the information to?” He asked, now looking at me “Your father says you have to make a statement, so he expects you to.”

“I’m eighteen.” I shrugged, “Legally capable of making my own informed decisions, and I’m deciding to not make a statement or press charges.”

“This is ridiculous.” Seokjin sighed before pressing a finger to his earpiece “This is Agent Ace, Rosebud has refused to give a statement, please inform the officer at the security gate. Yes, I know, I’ll deal with Zeus.”

I frowned, watching as his hand fell back down turning to look at me with the same annoyance a father would give a disobedient toddler “Zeus?” I frowned.

“Your father’s codename.” Seokjin simply stated before leaving the room.

Turning around I opened the fridge, scanning my eyes over the content that our housekeeper Kim Min-jung had purchased, realising that I hadn’t seen the woman who had been my mother figure since my mother’s passing in a few days and the fridge was lacking in content.

“I’m going to the store.” I announced as I re-entered the dining room, Namjoon standing up from the his seat at the table before I shook my head.

“Jimin and Jesse can come with me.” I said, looking at the two of them.

“That’s not happening.” Namjoon shook his head.

“You said no less than two, and although my math may not be the best, I count two.” I said, nodding to Jesse and Jimin “Or am I wrong?”

“Two of us.” Namjoon said, “Jesse can go, but with two others.”

“Okay, Yoongi.” I said, noticing that he had re-entered the room also “That settles it. Shall I drive?”

“Yoongi drives.” Namjoon said sternly.

“So, Jesse then.” I completely ignored him, “We’ll take your car.”

“You take one of the SUVs, and Yoongi drives.” Namjoon said, “Or you’re not going.”

“What’s your problem?” I asked, turning to look at him “The car and the driver doesn’t matter, at least I’m going along with your bullshit rules.”

“The car and the driver do matter!” He corrected sternly, “And now we’re all going.”

“What?” I scoffed.

“We’re all going, or you’re not going at all.” Namjoon said, slowly folding his arms over his chest “What’s it going to be?”

[aegyotrashcan]

A Broken Heart

Character: Jungkook (BTS) Word count: 2497 Summary: Young Jungkook finds out one weekend what a broken heart really feels like | #fluff #babysitter!au

Related stories: You’re Like a Butterfly | Save Me, Save Me

a/n: omg these babysitter stories are so fun to write! baby bts are so cute I can’t ;;w;;

On Monday, Jungkook's parents received word that his father's mother was ill. Jungkook knew that something sad was happening, judging by the long faces and somber mood after they got that phone call. But the cartoons playing on t.v. were too distracting, the bright colours and flashing images seeming more important to the child. Later that night, while being tucked into bed, Seokjin took charge of bedtime stories.

On the bottom bunk, the three youngest were cuddled together: Jungkook and his brothers, Taehyung and Jimin.

"What story do you want me to read?" Jin's smile looked forced, not quite reaching his eyes. Out of everyone, he had spent the most time with his grandmother. Of course, that could be because he was the first born grandchild. Their bond was seen as unbreakable, except now it was under threat.

As he thumbed through the collection of children's books on the shelf, Jin heard Jimin speak up.

"Hyung? What's wrong with Granny?"

His broad shoulders slumped. "It's kind of a sad story, Chimchim. Do you really want to hear it?"

Taehyung spoke next. "Yeah, I wanna hear it too! Why are Mom and Dad so sad?" He tried sitting up but Jin gently pushed him back down, fixing the covers over the three. As he brushed Jungkook's fluffy hair back, he told them, "Okay, I'll tell you. Granny is really sick. She has something called cancer and it's a very bad thing -"

"I've heard of that!" Jungkook interrupts. "My teacher had it and never came back. We had to get a new teacher!"

"Does that mean we have to get a new Granny?" Taehyung asks.

"No, it doesn't work like that. If Granny's gone, then she can never be replaced. Mom and Dad are going to be at the hospital all this weekend, visiting her, so Y/N is going to babysit us."

Jungkook gasps, eyes lighting up. Just that act alone showed Jin how young he was, how incapable he was of grasping the situation.

"Do you think Y/N will let us watch cartoons all weekend?" Jimin whispers into Taehyung's ear, trying to be sneaky. "And let us play outside, even when it's dark?"

With another smile, Jin once more fixed their blanket. "Now that I told a sad story, I want to tell a happy one. To send you off to sleep with warm thoughts. What about the story of the Prince and Princess?" He didn't let them answer, pulling the book from the shelf and delving into the story before they could try to stop him. Although the youngest boys drifted off easily, dreaming of gallant knights and beautiful princesses, the rest of the family did not sleep so easy that Monday night.

Or any night that week.

"IT'S FRIDAY!" Jimin shouts. "Noona's coming ~"

"For the whole weekend," Taehyung exclaims, spreading his arms wide to show just how big the "whole weekend" was. The two continued their playful banter, playing games and happily waving their parents off. The only one missing to say goodbye was Jungkook, who had locked himself up in his room the second he came home.

Although excited to see you, he was nervous. Butterflies swirled in his tummy, that he clutched at, half wondering if he would die from them. He watched from the window as his parents pulled away in their car, before getting to work. Jungkook fixed his white school shirt, setting his tie straight and spitting on a cloth to clean his shoes with. He looked so cool and mature in no time, ready to face you and hoping you'll notice his thought out appearance.

He raced to the window, peering out to see if you were here yet.

And you were.

Only he couldn't find it in himself to smile, to feel happy or run downstairs in joy. You got out of a boy's car, smushing your mouth to his in what grown ups call a "kiss." Disgusting, revolting and ... What was that feeling? Jungkook clutched at his chest, where Namjoon told him his heart was. He remembered his older brother's explanation of what a heart was; "It pumps blood around the body but many people use it figuratively as well. When you're sad, you call it a "broken heart.""

Is this what a broken heart feels like?

For the first time since you became the family's babysitter, Jungkook did not run to you. Jimin and Taehyung instead attached themselves to your side, speaking at the same time, asking if they could have ice cream or play, you think. It was hard to understand them. Namjoon greeted you next, followed by Jin and Hoseok. You assumed Yoongi was up in his room, like he always was.

However, the youngest was no where to be seen.

"Seokjin, where's Kookie?"

"He's in his room. He ran up there when he came home and hasn't come out."

You frowned. "Oh, do you think it's because of ... " You trailed off, not knowing how to word it. How do you casually bring up a sick grandmother?

Jin shrugged, face falling. "I don't know, I don't think he understands. The younger ones don't really get it, I don't think."

"Ah, they're still young I suppose."

"It's probably good. At least they can still smile easily."

After promising Jimin and Taehyung an ice cream later, they unattached themselves from you and ran off to play. Now free, you cautiously went to Jungkook's room. Knocking softly, you called out, "Kookie?"

There was no response.

"Kook?"

Pushing the door open, you found him with his back turned to the door, roughly sticking Lego blocks together.

"Oh, Kookie! Are you too busy playing to come say hi to me?"

"Yes!" He scooted away when you came closer, to sit where he once was. Now he faced you, cheeks puffed and lower lip jutted out. "I'm not your friend anymore, so just go away."

"Why?" Children throwing tantrums wasn't new, but they always stemmed from a reason. What had you done? You had only just arrived?

Jungkook shrugged, stooping his head and frowning down at the red block in his hand. You didn't love him. You only pretended to, cuddling him and kissing his nose to make him smile. Did you do that for the other boy? Did you give him orange juice and push him on the swing? The betrayal stung in his heart.

"Are you sad, Kookie?"

He nodded.

You wondered if the news about his grandmother had hit him harder than Jin knew. Jungkook had always been bad at expressing himself. You could sense that sometimes he wanted to show affection to his brothers but would show this instead through punching and kicking. Jimin was especially upset by this but you had no doubt that as he got older, he would understand more that this was Jungkook's way of showing love.

"What's making you sad?" you queried.

Another shrug.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He shrugged again before saying, "Please, just leave me alone."

Saturday was much the same.

The older boys were resigned, mostly wearing smiles around the younger ones. When it was just them alone with you, their smiles dropped.

"I hope Gran's going to be okay," Namjoon muttered sadly.

Yoongi said nothing but his eyes said everything. He was the most distant of the brothers, always staying away from you. Namjoon claimed it was hormones from puberty, "He's started growing hair in weird places recently" the young teen had informed you before. However, the more you observed Yoongi, the more you noticed his little ticks. They showed how he truly felt, more than words ever could.

And he was devastated about the news.

"Noona ~ " Jimin bound into the kitchen from the backyard, grass stains on his trousers. "Can I have a treat?" Out of all the boys, he was the chubbiest. He was always so soft and fun to hug, that you could never deny his requests.

"Of course, Jimin, come here." He plopped himself on your lap, swinging his legs when you pulled a chocolate sweet from your pocket. He unwrapped it and devoured it slowly, savouring the taste. Usually, your lap was a throne only for Jungkook. But after breakfast, he had quickly retreated back to his room.

"Jimin?" Jin speaks up. "Do you know what's wrong with our baby Jungkook?"

Gasping, Jimin dramatically looked around before making a zipper motion over his lips. "He made me promise not to tell!"

"You won't tell us? Never ever?"

Adamantly, he shook his head. "No! I pinky promised!"

"Would you tell us for more chocolate?" Yoongi pipes up. His voice had started cracking weeks ago, leaving him sounding far more mature than his years. His voice was as deep as his dads and all his brothers combined. Hoseok, sat next to him, picked up on his trail of thought. "Noona will give you one hundred chocolates if you tell us!"

Jimin's eyes lit up and faster than lightening he spat out, "Jungkook's jealous!"

His voice was loud, loud enough to draw in Taehyung from outside and for Jungkook to shoot out of his bedroom, down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Jealous of what?"

"He's jealous that Noona - "

Jungkook pounced, smothering back Jimin's words with his hands, face red and feeling more betrayed than ever. This was the worst weekend ever in his whole entire life! Taehyung stood by the back door, enough grass stains on his clothes to make Jimin's look clean.

"Noona," he says, "Jungkookie's jealous because you have a boyfriend!"

The sentence hung in the air. Then Hoseok's loud voice filled the silence; "Jealous? Does our baby brother have a crush?"

Turning even more red, Jungkook stomped his foot. "No! I hate girls! I hate Noona and I especially hate Noona's boyfriend!" He stormed off, with plans to run away formulating in his head. He would steal the cookies from the jar, bring his favourite teddy, and a pair of clean underwear. Then he would set out, on a journey to find a better family, one that wouldn't betray him like this.

The kitchen was alight with noise, most of it caused by Hoseok.

"Taehyung, Jimin, you both knew about his crush?" he asks.

Taehyung nods his fluffy head as he walks to him, gesturing to be picked up. Once on Hobi's lap, his face turns serious. "He says he's in love."

Jin clutches his chest. "That ... That's so cute! Who knew he was a romantic?!"

"That's not important," Taehyung frowns. Love was gross, frankly. Only one thing mattered in life. And that was chocolate. "Noona, I heard the deal you made with Chimchim. And I want in. I told you Jungkook's secret so I deserve ninety-five per cent of Jimin's share of chocolate."

"Hey, no fair! I would have said it but - "

As the two continued to bicker, you set Jimin gently back on the ground before trailing after Jungkook. His door had been left wide open and you could see him stomp from one end of the room to the other. His face had turned a deep shade of red and tears brimmed in his eyes. Embarrassment was the cause. Even as a child, you would turn teary eyed when you made a mistake or felt like you were being laughed at.

"Jungkook ~"

"Don't talk to me!"

His school bag was on the bed, his teddy hanging out. It seemed to watch the boy furiously grab things in his small hands. He held crayons and a blanket, necessities he quickly realised he would also require. Those too were shoved in the bag.

"Are you running away?"

"Yes! And don't try to stop me!"

You wanted to laugh. However, you knew that if you did, his embarrassment would only worsen. "Jungkook, why do you want to run away?"

"I hate you and everyone else!" He started to get choked up, imagining his life from now on. He hoped a new family would find him quickly, before his biscuit supply ran out.

"Saying things like that to your brothers is hurtful, Jungkook. They love you very much. And I do too." You sat by his packed bag on the bed. "We would never be able to smile again without you around."

"That's a lie," he sniffled. "You smiled for that boy."

"Who? Mingyu?"

"That's a stupid name," he commented childishly. It sounded like the name of someone ugly and gross, who Jungkook would never dare befriend. He bet that this "Mingyu" was so weird that he probably didn't eat nice things and liked broccoli and doing homework. Yeah, a definite weirdo.

"Mingyu, uh ... The boy that dropped me off yesterday is my boyfriend. He makes me happy and you'll find someone someday, that's your age, who will make your stomach fill with butterflies too."

"I make you happy, don't I Noona? We always watch cartoons together! Why do we have to be the same age?"

"Ah, I'm a little too big for you, Jungkook."

"What about when I'm big too?"

"You won't think about me then. When you're a big boy, you'll have made so many new friends and I know that you'll find someone perfect for you. Someone that's not me." You were keeping your tone soft while also speaking the truth. There was no point in leading the child on.

An adult dating a child was wrong. And by the time Jungkook would himself become an adult, a handsome one you didn't doubt, your job as a babysitter will long be over. His life will continue on, doing great things, making great memories, while yours continued too, on a different journey.

"That's not true." Stubbornly, Jungkook crossed his arms. His tears had vanished and so had his desire to run away. Sticking around won't be so bad, he reasoned. He'll beat Jimin and Taehyung up then as he becomes a grown up, with broad shoulders like Jin and a deep voice like Yoongi, he'll prove you wrong. He knows he'll never forget you and that you are his perfect person, the one he wants to watch cartoons with forever.

Sensing that his anger had subsided, you asked, "Do you want to come downstairs with me?" You stand up and he rushes to your side, burying his face into your hip. "I can make you hot chocolate, if you want?" you continue, patting his head.

He nodded. "But don't make any for the others! They're traitors!"

The atmosphere had lifted, even if it was at Jungkook's expense. The elder brothers were smiling again. Even Namjoon, who was being blamed for Jungkook's early knowledge of the opposite sex ("Noona, I bet he found what's on Hyung's computer!" "Shut up, Hoseok!") Yoongi joined the teasing too, his smiles all the more beautiful due to its rarity. It seemed that, for a moment, all troubles were forgotten and the family could laugh as one.

[swearronchanel]

Am I making this a thing too often? Oh well, I HAVE THOUGHTS IM SORRY

Series 6 is finally here & the first episode was pretty intense so I’m watching it again & I guess just posting my thoughts that no one actually asked for 

- COLOR! Or COLOUR, either way new intro 

- Ok I actually really like this, time are changing #LetsGetIt1962 

- Shelagh and Angela omg, Tim shaving! Cute Turner Morning but now that I’ve seen this once, this could’ve been a chance to show Shelagh having morning sickness 

 - Sister MJ dancing is the cutest thing

 - welp here comes Sister Ursula ready to ruin everything. If she wants to “gyrate” let her wtf 

- Patsy fixing Delia’s hair is cute but let’s be real Patsy’s needs the fixing - Ugh again Sister U, go away

 - welcome home fam, it’s about to get real

 - I miss my bby Trixie but I’m not going to dwell on it because I know she’ll be back - like the minimal food isn’t even the worst of it, just get ready. *** ALSO, Sister Ursula is lowkey petty with that line “don’t sit down yet please, the mother house will be calling soon” She’s knows what’s about to go down and is enjoying it. 

 - Sister Julienne’s voice cracking, she looks so sad. My heart. Why would she be demoted?! I still don’t get it. 

 - * Awkward clapping *

 - So did Patrick not notice Shelagh was constantly sick and carrying around those rennies? 

 - “Biscuits are for fainters”, which is funny because she tells Mickey later on to go with her and find the biscuit tin. 

 - No Patrick we’re not having a raffle lol 

- “We’re taking a gamble is you ask me” Shelagh’s accent sounds so cute in an serious tone haha 

- Sister MJ’s little angry moment with the duster, I feel. 

- Can we see sister MJ with Angela please? - Why does Mickey need a patch for astigmatism? My brother has it in one eye and always just wore regular glasses. I feel the glasses struggle though, I love my frames but I hate wearing them. Okay off track whoops - 

 - I knew the husband(Lester) wasn’t to be trusted from the get. - - WHERE DID SHE TAKE THE DAMN TV? 

- aw Tom. 

 - That’s all lol. I don’t know why this ring story isn’t that appealing to me? kinda boring 

 - PATSY IN JEANS YES, HERE FOR THE NEW WARDROBES 

 - Also all the cocktails, I love it. Barbara was some “practice” haha. Patsy’s toast was cute  

 - That random guy telling Phyllis “give us all a thrill” and she cringed. That’s me  

- Lol @ Barbara’s Zsa Zsa Gabor reference but she just died so RIP - - I wanna knock Lester tf out 

- This is period drama indeed but sadly, this is not an issue of the past. - 

 - Everyone feels bad for Sister J 

 - “No I can’t prescribe, because I’m only 15!” 😂😂 I’m dead. - I wish he would get more screentime haha. I’m almost hoping he’ll feel weird about the new baby so he can have some kind of interesting storyline 

- Sister W’s face telling Tim “comb your hair”, why does she make the funniest faces - “Cape Town Tummy” lol if that’s what you wanna call it 

 - Thank the climate appropriate bri-nylon for Baby Turner - Can Patrick please make a joke about it? Like Fred can squeeze his wife’s ass, let Patrick at least have a good line 

 - “Is it both ends?” wtf sister W😂 why would you ask?

 - Shelagh’s so polite “the smallest room haha" 

 - IM LAUGHING BUT CRINGING AT SISTER WINIFRED’S FACE I LOVE IT - 

- Lol here’s freco Fred 

 - Why does it even matter if Barbara has a ring to show off Violet, we didn’t see yours lol - 

 - Oh no he’s taking Mickey right 

 - Shit yes he is, WHYY - this kid is so precious omg 

 - Why would he tell is son this 

 - THIS STRESSES ME OUT UGH I KNOW WHATS GONNA HAPPEN

 - Coño this man pisses me off 

 - Mickey 😪 

- Damn it Peter why do you always have bad news - 

 - "Television kills the conversation” no you kill the conversation 

 - PHYLLIS’S REACTION IS GOLD

 - what are Patsy and Delia doing? 

 - YES LESTER YOU’RE A DISGUSTING COWARD, I WISH I COULD PERSONALLY HURT YOU 

 - my heart hurts but I’m also furious 

- lol babs with pottery is symbolism of me handling university

 - Why was this relevant though, that could’ve been another Shelagh scene 

- Yes Trudy with the knife. So strong. I’m here for her 

 - HOW DARE SISTER U QUESTION SISTER MC’S FAITH 

 - YOU DONT EVEN KNOW HER 

- Trudy really walked her way over like that’s incredible, she just was hit so hard. 

 - YES SISTER JULIENNE 

 - I can’t wait till she storms out again bc that was empowering, forget that vow of obedience for a second 

 - I don’t even care the Sister U is nice to Mickey, it’s too late for redemption I know what you say later to Dr Turner and it cancels out  

- MUCAS EXTRACTOR 

 - Shelagh’s best at that  

 - Why was there no scene showing Mickey at the Turners !!? That would’ve been precious 

 - Phyllis 💔 I freaking love her. Especially her with Trudy at the end 

- “You contradicted my authority last night” YES TF SHE DID IM PROUD 

- YES SHE LEFT, NONNATUS IS STILL YOURS SISTER J 

 - SOMEONE GIF THAT JACKET PART  

 - Yes Trudy. She played this so well 

- I wish I cared more about Barbara and Tom

 - They’re cute but idk I just don’t care enough. The ring part at the end is cute because who cares about convention I’m here for that.  

 - Oh no this is the part right 

-  shoot yea it is. Sister Mary Cynthia 😪 

 - PATRICK SHOULDVE PUNCHED HIM 

- sister J not forcing her way in, I’m glad 

- Sister MJ 💔 my freaking heart is shattering 

 - Give Bryony an award for this 

 - Such a heartbreaking, accurate yet beautifully performed depiction of mental illness 

 - THE GROUP HUG, THIS IS WHERE THE TEARS STARTED  

 - AYE COÑO SISTER J AND SHELAGH 

- THIS IS WHERE I LOST IT THE FIRST TIME, RIGHT AFTER “IM SO AFRAID” - I’m going to insert a picture because I’m serious I was sobbing 

 - Shelagh’s skirt is so pretty 

- I’m here for her outfit, lets get it 1962 

- Okay let me press play and cry again  

 - Give Laura an award for everything - HER FACIAL EXPRESSIONS, HER ACTING, SHE’S SO AMAZING 

 - Ah damn I’m crying again 

- Sister J “I never stopped praying” omg💔 

- I’m so glad she told her first. 

- Why is Trudy’s mom a bitch? Wtf care about your daughter and grand kids? 

- SNARKY PHYLLIS

 - what’s this bs. 

- YOU DONT BLAME A VICTIM 

 - I HATE HER MOM 

- PHYLLIS BACK HER UP - 

 - Patrick is so empathetic and understanding because he legit was on the other side 

- “That means you can be healed" 

- YES YOU CAN BE HEALED 💕 

- If Patsy is in the next episode they should’ve just brought her problem with her dad for the next episode? Since this episode does seem jammed packed but it’s all good

 - PHYLLIS AGGRESSIVELY MAKING A COCKTAIL IS ME 

 - except I’m a poor university student so it’s no cocktail 

- Phyllis knows something’s up looking at Pats acting weird w/ Delia 

  - Patrick suggesting Northfield. That’s character growth 

 - GET SISTER U OUT OF HERE 

 - PHYLLIS HANGING UP THE PHONE TO SET PETER STRAIGHT REAL QUICK 

- Patsy and Delia having a cute moment. I think everyone wants a significant other like Delia? Like Patsy always shuts her out when something happens but Delia doesn’t leave

 - Does Patsy’s dad have Lou Gehrig’s disease or what’s it really called - oh ALS? 

- Here come the rest of the feels. Phyllis is amazing, Trudy is amazing. I just love this freaking show. Phyllis never judges and truly helps and I just need her to give me a hug and tell me it’ll be alright - I do like this part. Good for you Babs. Defy convention, it’s 1962. 

 - So much more diversity in the community centre I love it 💕 

- Can we get a Latino/Hispanic family story on here please Heidi

 - ANGELA IS SO CUTE AH 

- THEY’RE DRAWING YES 

- I’m so glad for Trudy 

 - THE PARALLEL 

 - "Patrick you gave me a note once..” *internally screaming* 

- I forgot Shelagh can draw 

 - “PLEASE WILL YOU BE MY DAD” AW MY HEARTTTT 

- but honestly though Patrick should’ve been freaking out with more excitement like it’s a legit miracle 

- MY BBYS ARE HAVING A BABY 

 - Doesn’t matter that was perfect for me, I love parallels it’s so cool 

 - PHYLLIS WAVING BYE AWW And Vanessa Redgrave’s outro And the end. Wow what an episode, ready for next week