#pros and cons of sleeping i miss all of my free hours. but waking up is gonna be easier

[rainswhenyourehere]

free for the next approx. 12 and a half hours before school starts again. should i sleep or stay up

[jamespottersmixtape]

september 16: binge 1,173 words @rosekiller-microfic

It’s their movie night! just rosekiller being in love tbh (ft. Regulus freaking out)

After careful contemplation, in which he heavily weighed the pros and cons of each day of the week, Evan has decided that Saturday is his favourite.

This isn't that surprising—Saturdays are great. No work, no school, no need to wake up early or go to sleep before dawn. Pure unbridled bliss to spend a day however one pleases.

But that isn't why Evan loves them.

No, Evan has become rather fond of Saturdays because for the past year or so since he and Barty started dating, they've made it a goal to host a movie night. Just the two of them.

It started off as a complete accident—Saturday being one of the only days the two were free, unburdened by Evan's university classes and Barty's part-time job. So one night they found themselves sprawled over Evan's couch, watching a movie and eating takeaway because they hadn't felt like leaving the flat. Then the next week found them in a similar position, only at Barty's place, completely by coincidence.

By the third week they realized the pattern and made a truce—every Saturday that they could manage they'd stay at one of their flats, order in, and put on a random movie or show to watch together.

It quickly became a favorite date night for the both of them—choosing to ignore the rest of the world for one night a week and keep each other company. It was more than enough. Soft, tender touches under a blanket and rowdy laughter directed at a particularly shitty movie Barty had picked out. They would always end the night with their limbs tangled together, whether that be on the couch or one of their beds.

Now over a year later Evan still feels the same excitement bubbling in the pit of his stomach as the clock hits 5pm—their official designated start time.

He figures Barty will arrive any minute now and let himself in, so he turns the TV on and grabs some blankets from the closet, setting up the couch as comfortably as he can.

He's in the kitchen looking over menus when he hears the turn of a key and the click of the front door closing. He smiles to himself, soft and hidden, as feet patter across his wooden floors.

A warm presence ghosts along his back as steady arms wrap around his waist. Barty tugs him closer and hooks his chin over Evan's shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

"Hi Ev," Barty mumbles; he sounds tired. Evan knows he went home to see his mother today, a visit that usually leaves Barty drained no matter how much he loves her. He tries his hardest not to be so reserved around Evan; he's definitely gotten better with opening up about his home life, but it can be hard.

Evan has learned to be patient.

"Hi baby," he hums, turning his head and capturing Barty's lips in a kiss. It's sweet, chaste.

He turns around fully so he can run his fingers through Barty's hair, cupping his face with his free hand. "How was today? Your mum's well?"

That's another thing they've worked on: communication. Sometimes just a simple How was your day? or a Can we call later? I miss you, makes all the difference when both of them lead such busy lives. The two of them are far from perfect, but they try their best.

Barty shrugs, but smiles nonetheless. "She's good, not very busy these days. Father wasn't home so we went out for coffee," he wrinkles his nose at the thought of his father, and Evan laughs. He can't say he disagrees with the sentiment.

Barty tugs Evan closer where his hands still rest on his waist. "And what'd you do today? Other than wait for me to grace you with my presence, of course."

Evan rolls his eyes. "Actually I was dreading this. I'd much rather go back to studying like I've been doing for the past 6 hours. It's very fun," he loops his arms around Barty's neck, staring up at him with a devilish grin.

"Oh I'm sure," Barty nods along. "I should make my swift exit then, don't wanna take up too much of your time Mr. University."

"Shut up and kiss me, idiot."

Their lips meet again, warm and slow under the yellow lighting of Evan's small kitchen. It's unhurried, no intention other than re-familiarizing themselves with each other. Still, kissing Barty always makes his entire body light up—fireworks or tingles or electricity; whatever you want to call it—and he shivers from head to toe at the feeling.

God, he's painfully in love with this stupid man.

They pull back, Barty's hand never leaving Evan's hip as they go about chattering aimlessly. They choose a restaurant and Evan forces Barty to call in—pizza, even though Barty complains that his mother sent him home with enough Italian food.

They laugh at nothing as they wait for the food, Barty recounting to Evan how Regulus called him at 8pm the previous night to freak out when he found a ring in James' sock drawer.

Honestly Evan's surprised they're not married with two kids yet. They've been dating for ages, and James looks at him like he built the solar system. It's gross—and also about damn time that man proposes.

The food arrives in record time and they make themselves comfortable, Barty laying half of his body weight on Evan's legs. Not that he's complaining.

Barty chooses a show for them to watch tonight—some random sitcom he's been binge watching the past few weeks—and they settle into a comfortable silence, munching on their food.

"Hey, B?" he asks halfway through the second episode; food long gone and plates piled in the sink. He's wrapped in Barty's arms now, a blanket thrown over the both of them.

The chatter on the TV is low enough that he knows Barty heard him, but he doesn't make a move to acknowledge it.

Evan pokes one of his hands. Nothing.

He sighs, long and drawn out. "Baby."

Predictably, Barty turns his head to face Evan. He looks smug, the bastard, and raises a questioning eyebrow.

"Rosie?"

"Ugh, you're horrible. Why do I tolerate you again?"

Barty smiles, a bright and open gesture that radiates even more warmth under the soft blanket. "Cause you're just as bad as I am," he wraps his arms tighter and noses at Evan's hair.

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am n–"

"Watch the show, Ev," Barty interrupts, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

Evan scoffs but resigns himself to sink into the surrounding warmth, the rise and fall of Barty's breathing a comforting lull. The domesticity of it all makes his chest ache.

They go through another episode before Evan begins to feel the effects of sleep taking over, his brain peacefully blank and his eyes struggling to stay open.

"Sleep, Ev. I'll wake you later," he hears Barty whisper lowly next to his ear. Evan smiles, and lets his eyes close.

This, he thinks. This is perfect.

[thesparklingwriter]

a moment to ourselves

“I never said I would be the only wearing the face mask, did I?”

tags: pet names, Zhongli is very pure, soft Zhongli, fem!reader, Zhongli and reader are in a relationship, reader works a lot and zhongli wants his wife back, this does not follow the slight plot that was emerging so no amber, sorry :(

masterlist | ao3 link | taglist | next

everybody say thank you rin for this chapter :)

You’ve been quite busy with work the past few weeks, so you often go to bed late and wake up late to an empty bed. Zhongli resists the urge to wake you up every morning before he leaves, but he knows you need your sleep, so he never does. But today is a little bit of an emergency.

“Love, may I ask you a favour?” He asks softly, running a hand through your hair. He feels horrible for waking you up, but he’s also feels horrible because he’s barely spoken to his wife properly in weeks.

You stretch as you wake, confusion in your eyes. “Did I oversleep?” You yawn, and Zhongli laughs, lowering his head to kiss you lightly.

“No, you’ve about an hour.” He says. “I wanted to ask you for a favour.”

“I’m listening,” you smile. Ordinarily, you’d be upset that your sleep has been affected, but all in all, you’ve missed your husband. So you don’t complain. Zhongli is pretty much dressed for work, his long silken hair falling over his shoulder as he sits next to you and begins to talk, his voice husky.

“We have an important customer coming into the parlour today, and he very much values traditional Liyuean customs. I thought it might be suitable to ask you to do my hair.” He clears his throat as he awaits your verdict.

“That’s very sweet.” you smile.

Zhongli clears his throat again, surprised by your compliment. “Attention to detail is simply very important at the parlour. I’ll take you out to dinner to reimburse you for your time.”

“Li, my love, not everything has to be give and take, you know.” You chuckle. “I’ll do it for you, free of charge.”

Although you’ve told Zhongli this thousands of times, he still seems slightly unconvinced by your words. “Alright,” he sighs. “I’ll go and get the brush.” He disappears into the bathroom, for longer than is strictly necessary for a man who is simply collecting a brush.

“Are you drowning in the cabinets or something?” You call, chuckling to yourself.

“You’re quite the jokester,” Zhongli calls back. “Hu Tao gave me some face masks last week. I’ve been intending to give them to you, but we seem to have been a little out of sync lately.”

You chuckle to yourself. The distance has been palpable—although neither of you are mad at each other, the fact remains: you’re asleep when Zhongli is awake and when you’re awake, Zhongli is asleep or also working.

“I don’t know if I have time…” you sigh. You want to stay here, you really want to, but you can’t be late. Not again.

“You have time. I took the liberty of rescheduling some of your duties this morning.”

“Zhongli!” You groan incredulously. He usually doesn’t intrude into your life like this—he just asks you to do things and hopes you’ll pull through with it. He has been asking you to ease up on the work for a while now. Maybe you pushed him a little too far.

“I will not apologise. You deserve a break.” He hands you the pot, and you can’t even be mad at him. The face mask smells really good, and it’s cold to the touch. It’s just what you you need right now. You want to be mad at him for taking liberties, but you know you need the break.

“Alright. You win. I’ll put the face mask on and I’ll do your hair, and then I’ll go to work. Deal?”

Zhongli hums, as if he’s weighing up the pros and cons of this deal in his head before he agrees. But him saying no to you was never really an option. You shovel your hand into the face mask and smother it on his nose, making him blink in surprise. “I never said I would be the only wearing the face mask, did I?” you tease.

Zhongli retaliates by doing the same, but he manages to get most of it on your mouth.You drag your hand across your mouth to try and get it off, but you only smear it further, causing him to chuckle heartily at you.

“You're such a cheat.” you complain, but Zhongli pays you no mind, reaching out to wipe your lips with his thumb, which, unsurprisingly, doesn’t work. You open your mind to complain once again, but you’re silenced by Zhongli pressing his lips against yours. He kisses you gently, as if he has all the time in the world, and for the first time this week, you feel like time has stopped for you.

“I’ve missed you,” he says softly. “I really have. Would it be cruel of me to ask you to work less?”

You pretend to contemplate as you layer some more of the mask onto his face. “Not if you ask nicely, I suppose.”

“Was that not asking nicely?” Zhongli grins playfully.

“I think you can do better.” You laugh, standing up to go and wash your hands so you can do his hair. Zhongli pulls you back to him by your hand, settling you on his lap. “What’s this about now?”

“I’m not letting you go until you agree to lower your hours. You’re over working yourself, it’s not healthy.” Zhongli litters your hair with kisses as he tries to reason with you. Little does he know you’ve been convinced since the moment he opened his mouth.

“You’re getting the mask in my hair,” you groan. “I’ll sort it out, okay? As long it makes you stop whining.”

“I am not whining.”

a/n i really just wanted someone to tell me to work less so i made Zhongli say it lol

[heyitssmiller]

The System

Finn was not a morning person. Luckily Leo and Logan have a System to get him up and out of bed. For the SW/C2C Discord Bedtime Story Fest!

Characters belong to @lumosinlove

CW: food, drinks

.

Finn was not a morning person.

See, he had this tendency to stay up reading late at night, claiming he was “just going to finish this chapter” – but then the chapter would end on a cliffhanger and “one more chapter” turned into two, then three, and then the next thing he knew was looking up at the clock, seeing the time, and having a mild existential crisis regarding the passage of time.

He’d then guiltily crawl into bed and try not to wake up the two boys already in his bed. Logan normally woke up, no matter how careful Finn was. He’d do this adorable huff, then roll onto his side to face Leo while giving Finn more room and reach back blindly for Finn’s arm to throw over his ribcage. He was always warm and relaxed like this, perfect for cuddling up to.

Falling asleep was never the problem. It was the waking up that was a challenge. Especially on days when they had morning skate.

Luckily Leo and Logan had a System.

It was always the same – a well-oiled machine where all the parts slotted together to be as efficient as possible, one tactic blending in seamlessly with the next until Finn was completely awake and ready to start the day.

The two of them would wake up to the blaring chime of their alarm while Finn just groaned and buried his face into his pillow, red hair a beautiful disaster of glinting copper in the sunlight filtering through the window. Logan and Leo would share a knowing look, then start the beginning stages of The System.

Leo pressed his lips to Logan’s temple, the action earning him a dopey, sleepy smile. Crawling out of bed, he stretched until his back popped, long arms arced over his head, and then glanced back over his shoulder at Logan. “Pancakes?”

That made Logan perk up, eyes losing their sleepy tint. “The ones with chocolate chips?”

Leo laughed under his breath. Always a sweet tooth. “Sure thing.”

He quietly opened the bedroom and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen, leaving Logan and a still-sleeping Finn in bed.

Logan settled back in next to the redhead, leaning in close to kiss his neck lightly, playing connect the dots with the freckles there. “Harzy.”

“Mmm.”

Logan honestly couldn’t tell if that was a “please keep doing that” noise or a “for the love of god, stop and let me sleep” noise.

He wasn’t sure Finn knew, either.

Leo was the only one of them who was fluent in Sleepy Finn Noises, and he wasn’t in the room anymore.

“Finn,” Logan said, drawing out the end of his name and carding his fingers through red hair. Finn pushed into the touch and practically purred, cracking one eye open to look up at Logan. There was something about those brown eyes lit up in the sunlight… they made Logan melt back into the bed and sigh dreamily, which definitely wasn’t part of the System but they could get away with taking just a little longer today.

Finn caught him staring and turned his head to look at him straight on. “What?” His voice was soft and a little scratchy. It took Logan right back to their shared room at Harvard, staring helplessly at the boy in the other bed, wanting all the things he couldn’t have.

He soothed the pang of missed opportunities with reminders of the present and smiled at Finn. “Nothing. Just thinking about how much I love your eyes.”

Another thing to know about Sleepy Finn: he was much more bashful and prone to blushing than Normal Finn. He smiled and turned back to the pillow, hiding his face (and probably trying to go back to sleep, too).

“No,” Logan laughed, unceremoniously pulling the blankets away and nudging Finn repeatedly. “we need to get up, Harz.”

A grumble was the only response he got.

Time for the big guns.

He stopped his prodding at a pale, speckled shoulder and sat up in bed. “Nutter Butter’s making pancakes.”

Finn had one weakness when it came to sweet things, and it was Leo’s pancakes.

He tensed, then peeked over at Logan after a long second. “The ones with chocolate chips?” At Logan’s nod he sighed wearily, debating the pros and cons of staying in bed. But then his stomach growled and the decision was made for him. He reluctantly let Logan pull him out of bed (quite the feat, considering the several inches Finn had on him and that Finn acted like a sack of potatoes when he was sleepy) and lead the way out to the kitchen, where they were greeted by the smell of coffee and pancakes paired with the sight of broad shoulders and a toned, tan back.

Finn made another unintelligible noise, which Leo smiled at as he flipped a pancake. “Cuddles are ok, sweetheart, but leave my arms free or else I’ll burn these.”

How he got all that from a mumble, Logan would never know. It was adorable, though.

Finn shuffled over to stand behind Leo, his forehead slotting between strong shoulder blades and his arms sliding to wind around a trim waist. Logan took his place perched on the counter, observing as Leo held a one-sided conversation about their teammates and practice in a few hours and this new recipe from is mom that he really wanted to try out. Finn mostly stayed still and silent, letting Leo’s drawl wash over him, until the temptation of all that bare skin right in front of him became too much and he’d finally move his head to press light, sluggish kisses to the back of Leo’s neck, his jaw, his shoulders as he’d hug Leo tighter – always abundantly affectionate, even when he was still half-asleep.

And, just like always, Leo would carefully switch off the stove before turning around in Finn’s arms, his face open and overflowing with a tangle of emotions, and landing a gentle, lingering kiss on Finn’s cheek. His eyes would close and he’d lean into Finn ever-so-slightly, taking his time savoring the soft moment. And Finn – Finn would beam, looking undeniably smitten all the while.

It was Logan’s favorite part of mornings like this.

Next they’d get plates and cups of coffee and spend the morning together before heading to morning skate, but Logan would focus on that later. For now, he’d just sit there and watch his two lovers interact with a heart full to the brim and a mind fantasizing about the hundreds of mornings in the future that they’d utilize The System.

[inkandpen22]

Young Hearts Divided (1/?)

Pairing: Sirius x reader / James x Female!Reader (this comes later- the tea)

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.6k (she short~think of it as an introduction)

Part Summary: Y/N is a fellow Gryffindor Fifth Year with the Marauders. She has always been close with the boys, especially Sirius, but sometimes they can be bad influences... 

A/N: as always, thank you for reading! If you guys have any suggestions or requests you’d like to see, let me know! I’m down for anything rn :) 

Masterlist

Late! Late! Late! I’m late! I hurry down the steps of the tower into the Common Room. I suppose this is what I get for staying up late listening to muggle music with Marlene. How kind it would’ve been of her to wake me up too when she probably rose like a peaceful princess this morning. I at least would expect Lily to help a friend out! Nope, instead, I’m sprinting through the halls of Hogwarts with one shoe on, my hair disheveled, and my books hardly staying in my hands. I completely missed breakfast and now have to run straight to DADA across the bloody castle! 

Professor Flitwick stops writing on the board and peers over his shoulder when I stumble into the room. My peers whip their heads back and stare at me like a fish in a bowl. Sirius and James are sitting right in front of me with childish grins across their faces. Sirius starts giggling and Remus leans across the aisle to swat him on the arm. 

Professor Flitwick clasps his hands together with a deep exhale. “Miss Y/L/N, it’s on you to join us. Take your seat,” he instructs, gesturing to your empty seat next to Marlene toward the back of the room. 

“Sorry Professor,” I mutter, swiftly sliding into my seat directly in front of Sirius. 

As I pull out a roll of parchment and get settled, Marlene begins to bombard me with her questions. “Where have you been?!” 

“Sleeping!” I snap in a whisper. “No thanks to you!” 

“Dreaming about Bowie?” Marlene giggles, nudging me with her elbow. “Told you he’s stellar! We should listen to him again tonight!” 

“And keep me up all night?” I snicker, looking ahead to scribble down Flitwick’s notes. 

“You still haven’t heard this one group! My cousin sent me-” 

Marlene is cut off as a crumpled piece of paper hits the back of my head. Knowing exactly who it’s from, I ignore the wrinkled ball on the floor by my ankle to catch up on my notes. Marlene picks up the paper, much to my annoyance. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her glance back at Sirius as she unravels the ball. I continue to listen to Flitwick, hoping he doesn’t write me up for being tardy. 

“Want me to read it to you?” Marlene asks, all gushy with enthusiasm. 

“Does what I say matter?” I sass in a grumble, knowing she’ll read it anyway. 

“He wants you to meet him at the tree by the lake after class,” she informs as she scans the sheet. 

“Can’t,” I answer plainly. “I have potions.” 

Marlene sighs in disappointment, glancing back at Sirius with a frown. On my behalf, she writes down my answer and hands back the note. Turning back toward the front, she fiddles with her quill not even attempting to take notes. I, however, am writing like a lunatic struggling to make up for lost time. 

“Oh come on Y/N,” Marlene whines quietly. Her silence lasted about ten seconds. She tugs on the sleeve of my shirt while glancing upfront every so often to make sure Flitwick isn’t looking.  “You haven’t missed a day of class yet this term! Skipping one class won’t kill you!” 

“You’re right,” I mumble, keeping my attention ahead. “But what if McGonagall sees us or literally anyone else? I can’t get written up again! I’ve been to detention twice now this year because of the Marauders. Friends don’t get friends in trouble.” 

She huffs, dismissing my reason as not good enough. “You’re only young once Y/N! It could be fun!” 

“Why don’t you meet him then?” You suggest sarcastically. 

Suddenly, I feel another tap of a ball of parchment this time hitting my back. I take a deep breath to compose myself. If we anywhere else, even the library, I would probably smack the boy. Taking note of my frustration, Marlene cautiously reaches for the ball resting between the back of my chair and my back. She raffles the paper and skims the sheet. 

“Do you want-” 

“Ugh, just read it!” I bark under my breath, but loud enough for Lily and Alice to turn around in front of me. I mutter an apology and they face forward again. It takes every bit of me to ignore the stifling laughter of Sirius and James behind us. 

Marlene clears her throat, making the duo quiet down. Then, she recites Sirius’s note. “We will not be seen. James gave me the cloak.” 

I snicker, shaking my head at the words. “Ha, yeah okay! How does he plan on making Slughorn not mark me inexcusably absent?” 

“He… um…” Marlene stutters. “Good point.” On that note, she scribbles down my answer and leans back to hand the paperback. 

Sirius won’t have a valuable answer, thus will leave the matter alone. He will enjoy his free period doing who knows what with James while I go to potions. Shall I recall the two times I got put into detention because of Sirius Black? Okay, here it goes...

The first time was really for all of the Marauders. I suppose it’s my fault I’m friends with them. They were out late sneaking around with their stupid map to jot down a hidden tunnel Remus had discovered that day. I played watch and distracted Filch long enough for them to run into the Common Room. What that got me was detention from Filch. The boys felt remorseful and thankful that I didn’t throw them to the wolves, especially Remus and Peter. Sirius bought me chocolates and placed a rose on my bed every day for twelve days until I had a full bouquet. 

The second time was after the Gryffindor v. Slytherin quidditch game a few weeks ago. There was a party in the Gryffindor Common Room after the win as per usual. Sirius was drunk and wanted to go for a swim in the lake. I had been rather intoxicated myself, but not enough to jump into a lake filled with all sorts of creatures! Alas, Sirius dragged me from Gryffindor tower and we snuck around the castle to get to the lake. Filch and some of the Prefects were on their rounds, so we had to hide around corners. Sirius would slowly turn the corners first, holding onto my hand to keep me close, just in case. Then, he would glance back at me with a mischievous smirk before booking it down the clear halls. Jump ahead half an hour and we get caught in the Black Lake in nothing other than our underwear by a very disappointed McGonagall, not one of my proudest moments. 

I remember her words exactly. “Mr. Black, why must you pull Miss Y/L/N into your shenanigans? Two weeks’ detention, both of you! You’ll be cleaning classrooms until they’re spotless!” 

The two longest weeks of my Hogwarts career. Well… at some points. Sirius had his moments when he made the hours slip by. There was the time we were cleaning Slughorn’s classroom and had a water fight. We got all of the textbooks wet that Slughorn left out on the desks. Sprout heard us from the hall and walked in on us dripping wet head to toe. Sirius was standing behind me, holding a now-empty bucket over my head. Her face was priceless! 

“Y/N? Y/N!” Marlene pokes my side, snapping me out of my daydreaming. “I’ve been saying your name!” She huffs, holding a new note from Sirius. “What do you want to say?” 

I frown, “what does it say?” 

She rolls her eyes, “I just read it to you... I guess somebody wasn’t paying attention.” 

I mumble an apology and look up at the chalkboard to see that Flitwick has jotted down at least ten more points. I check out for two minutes tops and he does all that?! Forget it, I’ll just copy Lily’s notes later. We all know she’ll have them perfect. James copies her every day during lunch anyway. I sit back in my seat with a sigh of defeat and contentment. I accept my defeat and call it a day. Looking over at Marlene, waiting for her to read me the note again. Impatient, I take the paper for myself and look over it. 

Have Lily tell Slughorn you’re not feeling well. I have something I want to show you…” 

Thinking it over for a moment, I consider the pros and cons. Cons: I could get caught and three strikes don’t look great on my transcripts. I want a career at the ministry, I can’t risk ruining that. Pros: it could be fun. Whenever I allow myself to have free time, Sirius and I have the best time. I mean, even in detention we had fun. He’s one of my best friends here. In fact, he was one of the first friends I made, after Marlene. Leaning forward in my chair, I pick up my quill and scribble down my answer. Marlene peaks over my shoulder, eager to see. 

Okay. 

Keeping a close eye on Flitwick to make sure he isn’t looking, I fold up the paper neatly in my lap. When the professor turns toward the board, I reach my arm behind me, handing the note back to Sirius. While I keep my attention, I feel Sirius’s warm hand glide over mine to take the folded parchment. It lingers there for a mere second, his fingertips grazing as far as my wrist unnecessarily. A faint, uncontrollable smile forms across my lips at the feeling of his touch. Marlene is right, we’re young, I should be living more. I think Sirius can help with that. 

[puckrph]

‘TAKE THIS TO YOUR GRAVE’ STARTERS

taken from fall out boy’s 2003 album. feel free to change pronouns, etc.!

TELL THAT MICK HE JUST MADE MY LIST OF THINGS TO DO TODAY

‘ light that smoke for giving up on me, and another one just ‘cause they’ll kill you sooner than my expectations. ’ ‘ i could have died with you. ’ ‘ i hope you choke on those words, that kiss, that bottle. ’ ‘ i said i loved you, but i lied. ’ ‘ when you catch fire, i wouldn’t piss to put you out. ’ ‘ stop burning bridges. ’ ‘ stop burning bridges and drive off of them so i can forget about you. ’ ‘ bury me in memory. ’ ‘ his smile’s your rope, so wrap it tight around your throat. ’ ‘ breaking hearts has never looked so cool as when you wrap your car around a tree: your makeup looks so great next to his teeth. ’ ‘ bury me in memory around your throat. ’

DEAD ON ARRIVAL

‘ i hope this is the last time. ’ ‘ i’d never say no to you. ’ ‘ there’s no way to talk to you. ’ ‘ a rivalry goes so deep between me and this loss of sleep over you. ’ ‘ this is side one; flip me over. ’ ‘ the songs you grow to like never stick at first. ’ ‘ i’m writing you a chorus. ’

GRAND THEFT AUTUMN / WHERE IS YOUR BOY

‘ where is your boy tonight? ’ ‘ i hope he’s a gentleman. ’ ‘ maybe he won’t find out what i know. ’ ‘ you were the last good thing about this part of town. ’ ‘ i’m willing to take my chances. ’ ‘ you need him. i could be him. ’ ‘ i could be an accident, but i’m still trying, and that’s more than i can say for him. ’ someday i’ll appreciate in value. ’ ‘ i’m sporting my brand new fashion of waking up with pants on at four in the afternoon. ’ ‘ he won’t find out. ’

SATURDAY

‘ i’m good to go. ’ ‘ i’m going nowhere fast. ’ ‘ i’m going nowhere fast, but it could be worse: i could be taking you there with me. ’ ‘ it looks like i’m still on my own. ’ ‘ i’m good to go for something golden. ’ ‘ the motions i’ve been going through have failed. ’ ‘ i’m coasting on potential toward a wall at a hundred miles an hour. ’ ‘ when i say “two more weeks,” my foot is in the door. ’ ‘ i read about the afterlife, but i never really lived. ’

HOMESICK AT SPACE CAMP

‘ i’m grounding all my dreams. ’ ‘ tonight, the headphones will deliver you the words that i can’t say ’ ‘ tonight is all about “we miss you” ’ ‘ i can’t forget your style or your cynicism. ’ ‘ it was like you were the first to listen. ’ ‘ my smile’s an open wound without you. ’ ‘ new friends are golden. ’

SENDING POSTCARDS FROM A PLANE CRASH (WISH YOU WERE HERE)

‘ i am such a sucker. ’ ‘ i’m always the last to know. ’ ‘ my insides are copper; i’d kill to make them gold. ’ ‘ make my bed the grave, and shovel dirt onto my sheets. ’ ‘ you can thank your lucky stars that everything i wish for will never come true. ’ ‘ when you go, i will forget everything about you ’ ‘ i’ve seen sinking ships go down with more grace than you. ’ ‘ fake it like you matter. that’s a lie we can both keep. ’

CHICAGO IS SO TWO YEARS AGO

‘ my heart is on my sleeve. i wear it like a bruise or black eye. ’ ‘ i believed every single lie you said. ’ ‘ every pane of glass that your pebbles tap negates the pains i went through to avoid you. ’ ‘ every single pat on the shoulder for attention fails to mention that i still hate you. ’ ‘ i should be home. ’ ‘ the colors of the street signs remind me of the pickup truck out in front of your neighbor’s house. ’ ‘ boys like you are overrated. ’ ‘ save your breath. ’ ‘ loaded words and loaded friends are loaded guns to our heads. ’ ‘ you want apologies? you might hold your breath until your breathing stops forever. ’ ‘ the only thing you’ll get is this curse on your lips: i hope they taste of me forever. ’ ‘ with every breath, i wish your body will be broken. ’

THE PROS AND CONS OF BREATHING

‘ bury me standing under your window with this cinder block in hand, because no one will ever feel like this again. ’ ‘ if i could move, i’m sure it would only be to crawl back to you. ’ ‘ i want to hate you half as much as i hate myself. ’ ‘ i could crush you with my voice. ’ ‘ i stood on my roof and tried to see you forgetting about me. ’ ‘ hide the details. i don’t want to know a thing. ’ ‘ i hate the way you say my name, like it’s something secret. ’ ‘ my pen is the barrel of a gun. remind me which side you should be on. ’ ‘ i wish that i was as invisible as you make me feel. ’

GRENADE JUMPER

‘ my heart ticks in beat with these kids that i grew up with. ’ ‘ you’re living like life’s going out of style. ’ ‘ at the end of the day you know where i came from, and where i call home. ’ ‘ you were my only friend. ’ ‘ i know this is belated, but i love you back. ’ ‘ they’ll say it’s not worth it, so i’ll leave this town in ruin. ’ ‘ i know you would be there either way. ’ ‘ i’m so glad it seems like these times will never fade. ’ ‘ i’ll tell everyone how much this means to me. ’

CALM BEFORE THE STORM

‘ this story’s going somewhere. ’ ‘ let’s get this party started. ’ ‘ what you do on your own time’s just fine. ’ ‘ my imagination’s much worse. ’ ‘ don’t say it’s over. ’ ‘ the storm set it off. ’ ‘ this is me, standing in the arch of the door, hating the look on your face. ’ ‘ there’s another fool like me. there’s one born every minute. ’

REINVENTING THE WHEEL TO RUN MYSELF OVER

‘ i could walk this fine line between elation and success, but we all know which way i’m going. ’ ‘ you have to prove yourself. ’ ‘ you’ll have to prove it to me. ’ ‘ you’re waiting up for him? ’ ‘ you’re wasting time. ’ ‘ i can’t do it by myself. ’ ‘ i can’t wake up to these reminders of who i am. ’ ‘ i’m a failure at everything. ’ ‘ i’m a failure at everything: eighteen going on extinct. ’ ‘ i know my place. ’ ‘ i know my place; it’s nowhere you should roam. ’

THE PATRON SAINT OF LIARS AND FAKES

‘ i’m holding out. ’ ‘ i’m holding on to every letter and every song. ’ ‘ are you through with me? ’ ‘ when it all goes to hell, will you be able to tell me “sorry” with a straight face? ’ ‘ i’m all ears, and i’m all scars. ’ ‘ boys like you try too hard to look not quite as desperate. ’ ‘ i still know the way to make your makeup run. ’ ‘ take this to your grave, and i’ll take it to mine. ’

[moojiji]

PART 2 // Cho Seungyoun aka Woodz

I wake up to stop my alarm from ringing and of course will start my day with my daily routine which is morning jog. Trying my best to leave the bed slowly especially trying to let myself free from Seungyoun’s hug but i fail, of course.

“Where are you going?this early.....?” ask Seungyoun with his morning sleepy voice.

“I’m going for morning jog,dude. I’ll be back in an hour. You need more sleep. Bye” i kiss his lip before tug him back to sleep and he goes back to sleep. Damn easy.

I’m getting ready for my jog after freshen up. Usually I’ll jog at the han river park but today I’ll just jog around my neighbourhood instead. When i reach home after 1 hour, Seungyoun still sleeping and i let him be. I wonder when the last time he had a good sleep.

So i go take shower and after that start to prepare breakfast for both of us. Just simple korean breakfast, rice, beef, seaweed, egg roll and coffee of course. I’m done with all the food and I’m currently brewing the coffee when Seungyoun comes into the kitchen

“Morning!”

“Good morning~ how’s your sleep?”

“Good. I think that’s the best sleep ever since I don’t know when the last time i had good sleep”

“I thought so. Come sit. I already prepare breakfast for you and of course your morning coffee”

“I miss your food” says Seungyoun while clapping his hand like a kid.

“Then go ahead eat” i smile look at him. Sometimes he’s like my younger brother the way he act.

“Oh yeah mom is asking to come have lunch with her today” says Seungyoun while munching his food.

“Where?” I sigh.

“Restaurant...?i think....I haven’t ask her yet”

“I’ll pass if it’s outside” I continue to eat my breakfast even i lost apetite.

“Babe~”

“Youn...you know that we’re not officially dating in public yet..”

Yup. We’re dating in secret. Not really, our friends and family knows it but fans? Nope. Not only because of Seungyoun’s idol life but because of mine too. I’m a producer and also a singer-songwriter, choreographer and model too and i work with a lot of artist especially idols.

How we started dating? We were friends. Basically we knew each other since high school when he moved back from oversea. We were classmate but I don’t really talk to him because i left the school after 1 week he transferred but I’m close with Jamie and Yugyeom. So that’s how i knew more about Seungyoun after Jamie and Yugyeom introduced him to me.

We started hang out as friend and all and continue to become close friend because of we’re working in the same industry until early of this year he started to confessed to me that he sees me more than as a close friend. Even when we started to befriend with each other, people around us keep saying that we look together and how we treat each other like partner because both of us kinda clingy kind of type.

We all know the pros and cons if we start to date each other but still dumb me accepted his confession without thinking properly. It’s not like i regret it, it just I’m worried about him. Seungyoun he had been through a lot and I don’t want him to go through the same situation again. More worse if it’s because of our relationship.

“Can you just once think about us?” says Seungyoun.

“What do you mean....you thought all this time i never think about us?! dude...” I put down my utensils on the table.

“No no i mean that, when it comes situation like this, we go out with each other in the public. Don’t care about your surrounding, just think of us...”

“Ah you think it’s easy when you have a group of fans following you around...Seungyoun please. I bet they even know you are here too” i stand up from my sit.

“Wait y/n” Seungyoun grab my hand to stop me.

I look at him with tears nearly falling from my eyes, he’s shock to see me crying. He wipes my tears with his thumbs and pull me into hug.

“I’m sorry. I know....I shouldn’t brought this topic up...I’m sorry okay. I’ll talk to mom about this”

“I love you, youn. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to leave you. I don’t want to ruin our friendship. This is why i.....can’t do this....” I look up to his eyes.

“Wait wait hold on. Don’t continue your words. Nope. We’re not gonna break up. No. Please babe” Seungyoun hugging me tightly, don’t want to let me go.

“What’s going on here......you both okay,dear?” suddenly we heard Seungyoun’s mom voice behind us.

“Mom....how....what are you doing here?” Seungyoun turn around to his mom but his arms still not leaving me.

I just bow down to his mom, still crying.

“Oh my god my dear y/n what happen? Why are you crying? You too Seungyoun-ah what happen?” His mom coming closer to us and cupped our faces with her hands.

“Nothing....” I quickly answers but

“We had an.....argument about our relationship,mom” says Seungyoun. I look at him and scold him with my eyes.

“Again? What’s the reason this time?” asks Mom.

“Idk....still the same reason...i guess” Seungyoun awkwardly rub his neck.

“Is it because of the lunch date? Haihh look y/n. I don’t want you to be paranoid of people. If I don’t approve your relationship with Seungyoun, I won’t ask you to go out to eat lunch with me but here i am. I’m proudly to let people know, who stole my son’s heart. I know you’re worried about his and your career and also the fans but you both are human being and you guys deserve to be in-love. As a fans, they should accept the fact their idol have hearts to and can fall in love too. I trust Seungyoun with all my heart when he told me that he wanted to ask you out. This boy knows what he’s doing in his life. You don’t have to be worry about it, okay dear?” Auntie holding my two hands, comforting me. Dumb me still crying and just nodding my head without say anything and hugs her.

“There there, i know you guys will argue about this. That’s why i came here with the help of your manager” says Auntie.

“It’s okay, Auntie. Thank you”

“It’s nothing darling. Anything for my son, for you too. Okayy I’ll get going first and I’ll meet you guys later, okay?”

“Yes mom. Thank you” Seungyoun kiss and hugs his mom while mutter love you to her.

“See you guys later. Don’t be late”

After auntie left, i straight away go to Seungyoun and hug him from behind. He pats my hands on his waist, turn his head to look at me behind me and he chuckle a bit

“We’re so dramatic. Am i right?” Seungyoun laughs.

“We are. I agree” letting him go while Seungyoun still holding my hands, turning himself around to face me. Look at me straight into my eyes and slowly lean in to kiss me on the lips.

“Promise me one thing. Whatever happens, we will be there for each other,promise?”

“Promise” i do the pinky promise with him and he return a peck on the lips and smile.

[foxtophat]

HEY HEY HEY!!!!  hey guys. haha. um, idk what to say exactly and tumblr likes to eat my posts so lets see how long this lasts:

its’ only been a couple months but i have been frothing at the mouth trying to figure out what next part of mercy to put out. i have a lot of much bigger stories to tell than this one, but kim and john sharing insomnia felt sort of like the right segue into those bigger bits.  so for now, let’s just enjoy a 20k fic about Kim and John, and also a little about John and Nick, but mostly just about John and Jacob.

there are 3 chapters. i’ll post the 2nd one later this week (wednesday or friday i think) and the third will probably go up next monday.  YEAH THAT’S RIGHT i actually have most of this one finished right out the gate!!!

as usual, i’ll put the entire chapter under a readmore in case you don’t want to leave tumblr.  i hope you enjoy what i’ve got for you this time -- if not don’t worry, there will be more dramatic bullshit later :)  comments, kudos, reblogs and likes are all the things that make ficwriting more fun than it already is, so consider helping me out if you enjoy what i’m doing. otherwise, have a good day!!!

Kim's dreams are normally composed of fleeting images in dark, monochrome colors. They're howling-wind nightmares or ethereal moments of peace, but they're short-lived and she's always disconnected from them. She hasn't had a real dream in probably nine years. She used to miss them, before John Seed reappeared with all of his night terrors, just in time to remind her of how good she has it. Now, she's glad that the most she has to contest with is a looming sense of dread that fades almost as soon as she wakes up.

But tonight, Kim is a long way away from all of that. She's standing at the kitchen sink in her childhood home, which is in full summer swing. The rosemary plant her mom keeps on the sill is in full bloom, thick green spikes dotted with blue puffball flowers. Beyond it, the Canadian sky is seawater green, and Kim marvels at the fluffy clouds drifting through the unnatural color. They seem to be floating by much faster than the still air outside would imply. It should rattle her, confuse her, but before that realization sinks in, her mom's voice distracts her away.

"Do you really think he's the one?" she asks, as skeptically as she had all those years ago when Kim first decided to move to Montana. Her mother had liked Nick, of course, because he was a likable guy, but Kim had known from the start that her parents were worried about her. They'd worried about her moving to a red state, about her trusting a man she'd seen a handful of times since they'd met. They hadn't understood the idea of purple pockets or internet dating, and while they supported Kim's love of rifle showmanship, they'd never trusted Nick owning more than three guns.

"What's the point, is all I'm asking," Kim's mom laughs in response to Kim's unspoken comment. "It seems strange to collect weapons..."

"Mom, he hunts !" she chides. "And anyway, he isn't the worst one out there."

"That's exactly what I worry about," her mom says. "What if something bad were to happen? His family is gone, and we'll be so far away..."

Kim sighs, the words stinging more than they should. The aqua colored sky begins to churn outside, the light filtering through a strange red haze. Inside, the sunlight reflects off the white counters, nearly blinding Kim.

"I'll be okay," she says, reciting an amalgamation of all her old defenses as her eyes readjust. "There are a lot of good people out there. They rely on each other a whole lot more than we do here."

"I worry about you, Kimiko. That's all." Her mother sighs sadly. "You'll understand when you have kids of your own."

"But mom..."

Kim tries to tell her that she already has a kid, but she can't muster up the words. After all, shouldn't she know? Wouldn't Kim have visited? Wouldn't she have brought Carmina into this very kitchen, all the surfaces glowing with light, and introduced them? Wouldn't her mom have been there when Carmina was born?

"It's unseasonably warm, isn't it," her dad remarks at the table. He's sitting there with a magazine as if he'd been there the whole time. He, like the rest of the room, glows from the inside, as though a flashlight were shining through his skin. It shines through the wood of the table, through her mom's curious smile, until Kim has to turn her face away. The room grows hotter and hotter, and in the far-off whistling wind she hears the first lonesome wail of an air-raid siren beginning to pick up. There's a blinding burst of light and howling wind, and Kim lifts her hands to her face, desperate not to look directly at the blast —

The bedroom is dark, warm and humid. At first, Kim doesn't know where she is, struggling to sit up, desperate to run, until all at once reality comes crashing back into focus. It doesn't help that she's pinned beneath Nick's arm and Carmina's full dead-sleeping weight.

Normally, moving would be out of the question. But Kim doesn't want this dream clinging to her memory, and she desperately wants to put some space between her and the nuclear glow of her mother's smile. Hell, maybe it isn't the dream at all — maybe it's the heat that's making lying here unbearable. Maybe it's the extra weight pinning her down, or a panic attack waiting in the wings — whatever it is, she needs to get up and run from it. As she worms her way out from underneath her family, Kim can feel the pressure building behind her eyes, fueled by the need to jog out the tension that will soon become unbearable. She needs to exercise the nightmare away before it sticks around and ruins the rest of her night.

It's probably already too late for that. The back of Kim's eyes are itchy with tears as she struggles to get free. She's already memorized her mom's smile, trapped forever in radioactive amber, and that alone is enough trauma to fuel ten more terrible dreams.

Nick and Carmina remain peacefully asleep, even as Kim extracts herself from the bed. That's good — the last thing she needs to do is worry Nick, whose own sleeping habits have just started to even out. He'll try to keep her company, and they'll just wind up keeping each other up, which wasn't ideal back in the day and definitely isn't ideal now .

Even though Carmina sleeps like the dead and Nick isn't likely to hear her, Kim is careful to watch out for the creakiest steps as she heads downstairs. Sunrise isn't for a few hours yet, but Kim isn't going to let that stop her from insomnia-pacing around her own home. It used to be that Kim would jog laps on the runway to clear her head, but that isn't going to work nowadays. She still wants to, of course; she's desperate to step out into the relatively cool night air and run herself ragged enough to pass out again, but that's out of the question. She's not about to break her own rule.

It's only once Kim is downstairs that she starts to relax, lighting one of the candles left out on the table. The light is just barely enough to see by, and Kim struggles to find something to clean up or organize in the half-dark. All of the coping mechanisms that got her through eight years of bunker living have fallen flat in the face of the apocalypse, but that doesn't keep her from trying them over and over again. Some techniques are more adaptable, but it isn't like she can dig into reorganizing the hangar for Nick at... whatever time it is now. Not without somebody catching her breaking her own rules about going outside alone.

If she had any books worth reading, she could throw herself into that, but she can't bear the manuals and children's books right now. Maybe if there was a radio station she could listen to... but no, she wouldn't want to risk burning out the radio after everything Nick and John went through to fix it. There's not going to be another Hail Mary when it comes to that kind of repair.

Her mom would probably use this time to make a series of endless lists. Grocery lists, to-do lists, lists of pros and cons for buying new appliances or inviting Kim's awful step-grandmother to her wedding... there was nothing that her mom couldn't organize into a column of bullet points or check-boxes. Kim could probably do with a few lists herself, but where is she supposed to get the paper? And even if a supply list wouldn't be a waste of resources, where would she go to fill it? It's going to be a while before they can pick up flour from the farmer's market again, that's for sure.

Well, at least wasting some paper will keep her mind busy. There's too much stuff they need, and she's going to drive herself crazy trying to remember all of it. Anyway, they've been using decades-old junk mail to prop up the radio desk — it can't be wasted if it was already trash, right?

She's careful in her search for a decent piece of mail, not wanting to tip the radio over as she jimmies a yellowed envelope from under the desk. It's only once she's back at the table with a worn-down nub of a pencil that she finds herself hesitating. After all, what is she supposed to write? What could they reasonably expect to get out here, with no supply chain to rely on? Everything that comes to mind is laughably improbable at best.

It doesn't really matter, though, does it? They're probably not going to be able to find anything besides what they can hunt and grow for themselves, so any food she writes down will be wishful thinking. John had offered to help their scavenging efforts, but it isn't likely they'll find working walkie-talkies or a new car. People who have been above ground longer than the Ryes have already taken over key resource points, and they'll be hard-pressed to give up things without a fair trade. And until they can reliably communicate with one another, trading is going to be nearly impossible. One day, maybe, they'll have trading posts and reliable supply chains, but like other pieces of their fractured society, that's not coming for a long time yet.

Staring at a blank piece of paper is worse than writing something stupid down, and so Kim quickly scribbles the word flour across the top of the envelope. She can't imagine that's going to be a reasonable expectation for a while, but at least it's on paper — and it's outlandish enough that it encourages her to continue, her thoughts darting between impossible dreams and honest reality. Salt , she thinks might not be quite as hard to find. Sugar, probably impossible. For now, they can hope for honey instead.

It goes on like that, growing more abstract as Kim lets herself dream. Milk, eggs, bread, twinkies , meat grinder, hamburgers, tomatoes, grains (seeds), grill (charcoal), gas, gas canisters (storage), duct tape, insulation foam (spray, sheet), toilet cleaner, toilet, hot water, plumbing, bathtub! , tarp, doors, ammunition, floodlights, security system, cans + string (security) —

Her flow is interrupted by a soft, distant thud somewhere upstairs. Kim listens for a few tense seconds, waiting to hear boots on the roof, the hiss of a walkie-talkie, or the slide-click of a gun being cocked. Without the cult, those fears go unrealized, and Kim slumps tiredly into her seat. She's just as paranoid about armed cultists tonight as she is about wild animals, although she's sure that's just her nightmare talking. Eden's Gate is nowhere near the threat it used to be.

The relief is short-lived, as is her solitude, when she hears an upstairs door click shut, followed by the sound of quick footsteps on the landing. The house is too old for any real attempt at stealth, but John tries to avoid the worst offending stairs on his way down. He only realizes Kim is there when he notices the candlelight, coming to an abrupt stop on the last step, one hand clutching the banister tight.

He's sweaty and out of sorts as he wipes his limp hair out of his face. "Oh," he rasps. "Kim."

He's surprised to see her. Kim should be surprised, too — it's one thing to know that John wanders the house at night, but it's another to see it happen in real-time. Honestly, she's barely phased by his appearance. John's sleep schedule has been bunker-erratic ever since Nick brought him home, and no amount of diurnal activity has managed to change it. If anything, Kim suspects he gets less sleep now than he did underground. It isn't for lack of trying, she's sure, but this isn't the first time she's heard him stumbling around in the dark. It's just the first time she's been in the same boat.

"Late night?" she asks.

John struggles once more with the hair in his eyes before giving up. "Just needed some air," he rasps, minding his volume. "Some water."

"Don't mind me," she replies, surprising herself with her own ambivalence. Knowing he moves around while they're sleeping is one thing, but seeing it should be upsetting. It should bother her when he avoids creaky floorboards on his way to help himself to their fresh water. It should make her angry to see him using their resources; at the very least, it should have upset her back when it began normalizing. But, honestly, it hadn't. Kim had just been relieved to see John acting like a person, and not just a haunted shell.

John wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, regarding Kim with deep uncertainty that Kim mostly makes out from his hunched shoulders and tense posture. He tries to hide just how lost he is, but Kim never misses it when he slips. It's not that she's sympathetic towards him, exactly, but she knows just enough about his history to want to pity him.

He doesn't speak, not even after the silence stretches out. Maybe he's waiting for her to make the first move?

The thought almost makes her laugh, but she still cuts him some slack. "Can't sleep either, huh?" she asks.

"Hardly ever," John replies, although he clearly isn't looking for reassurance. He takes a step away from the kitchen, hovering in the nebulous space between the table and the stairs. He's usually quick to leave Kim alone — quicker than he is with Nick, anyway — and so she appreciates the fact that he doesn't run now.

His voice cracks on its low pitch as he haltingly asks, "What are you doing?"

For just a second, Kim imagines giving John the cold shoulder and telling him it's none of his business. But the thought fades as quickly as it comes; it's replaced by the knowledge that John is just as dependent on the family's supplies as she is. Anything she needs, he'll also need. And besides, she's almost positive he'd been in control of the cult's supplies, which means he might have an idea of what they should realistically be looking for. He would know what the cult had planned to do, and she could probably translate that into useful advice.

"Just making a list," she sighs. It sounds stupid enough to make her wince, and she concedes with a joke, "You know, for the next time we're at Wal-Mart."

John huffs in amusement and approaches the table. Now that she's got an audience, Kim wants nothing more to do with the list, and so she pushes towards him before slumping back into her chair. Instead of the quick, distracted glance she had been expecting, John leans over to read it in full. The longer he reads, the more embarrassed Kim is of her late-night daydreaming, but he finishes with the list before she can grab it back.

"Some of these are... more manageable than others," he says, using the same kind of diplomacy he utilizes whenever Nick makes a particularly dumb comment.

"Uh, yeah ," she says, embarrassed even if she isn't surprised. "I know. It was just... taking up space in my head. I needed to write it down, otherwise, I'm going to be up all night."

Kim runs her hand through her hair, waiting for John to retreat as quickly as he'd arrived. Instead, John rereads the list once more. Kim can see his amusement much more plainly as he leans into the candlelight. It highlights the deep bags under his eyes as well, but who isn't carrying that particular mark of exhaustion these days?

"Ammunition isn't as high on the list as I'd imagined," he comments.

"We're okay on bullets for now," she replies. "And it's not like there's much to spare."

Whether or not that satisfies John, Kim isn't sure. He only hums in response, eyes roaming down the paper.

"I see you didn't bother to add more guns."

"We don't need more guns," Kim insists, although it's not strictly true. She's just hesitant to overwhelm the house with firearms. They've been getting on just fine with what they have — any more, and they might turn into a target themselves. One day, sure, they'll need to find something for Carmina to carry on her own, but that day is a long, long way away.

She doesn't need to explain herself to anyone, let alone John Seed, but as he watches her and waits for more, she feels compelled to justify herself. "I don't think we're going to find spare guns or ammunition just lying around, and I'm not about to take them by force. We've managed just fine with what we have."

"For now," John points out. "Things could change. It won't stay this calm forever."

"Why not?" Kim retorts, feeling childish and petulant as soon as the words leave her mouth. "Why do you even care? You're certainly not getting armed."

John clicks his tongue against his teeth. "It's not that," he says, only to abruptly roll over with a muttered, "Never mind."

If John thinks he can avoid the conversation that easily, he has another thing coming. "No, what is it?" she asks.

"It's nothing," he sighs, as if arrogantly dismissing her will keep Kim from pushing. When Kim only frowns unhappily back at him, he reluctantly relents. "Joseph had said taking your weapons was the only way we could ensure you wouldn't use them after the Collapse. And if we didn't lock them away, it would be all you would look for." He stares at the list, although Kim imagines his thoughts are about fifty miles away. "It's stunning how wrong he was about everything. But there are reminders everywhere."

John rarely speaks about Joseph; Kim hasn't heard him broach the subject of his own volition before. The only person who ever talks to him about his brother is Jerome, and those conversations are private and short. Having John bring him up with almost no needling feels like a step forward, even if it's only a small one. Even though John is anxious saying Joseph's name.

It's so easy to forget how much control Joseph had over John. Kim has to make a concentrated effort now and again to remind herself that Joseph hadn't only brainwashed normal, desperate people, but his own family. She can't imagine doing anything to Carmina or Nick that would turn them into the angry, anxious mess John had been even before the Collapse. Not even if it meant they would always do what they were told and would trust her implicitly. She couldn't bear it if Nick ever talked about her the way John talks about Joseph. It's late enough that Kim finds herself wondering how Joseph can even sleep at night.

"It's stupid," John says, taking Kim's contemplative silence as disapproval. "I should have known better."

He inhales, letting out a shaky breath, and closes his eyes briefly. When he opens them, they're suspiciously shiny in the candlelight. It sparks a genuine pang of sympathy in Kim, but there's nothing she can say or do to help him. Nothing she's done so far has made an impact.

"Some of this is reasonable enough," John says, desperately trying to redirect the conversation back to the list. It's an obvious, flat-footed attempt to avoid a tender spot in his psyche, but Kim is willing to let it slide.

"Sure, eventually . But we're a long way off from hot baths and backyard barbecues, much less flour and sugar."

"Those are... less reasonable," he admits, dragging his finger across one of the harder to come by items. Still, he isn't nearly as deterred as she is. "But not everything is impossible to come by. Insulation, for one. Tarp, duct tape. Components like that should be easy enough to find." He taps his finger against the envelope. "And there still places to investigate. Root cellars nobody bothered to touch. Caches you never found. Things hidden in places you wouldn't know to look, especially if you weren't in the Project."

Frowning, Kim rereads a few of the items upside-down from her side of the table. "It's been almost nine years," Kim points out, reluctant to get her hopes up so easily. "Isn't it more likely that everything good has already been discovered?"

Still... John's mentioned secret Eden's Gate supplies before. Given the size of the project and how long they were operating in the county, it's not impossible that some of their hidden stashes haven't been found yet. And they were planning for the apocalypse, right? They'd likely have saved things that could last for a long time. John isn't wrong — more ammunition and more weapons would be helpful. At the very least, they could help arm other survivors.

"It wouldn't hurt to have a look, I guess," Kim relents after thinking it over. "How good is your memory?"

That earns her a rare, quiet chuckle from John. "Middling to poor," he admits, "Although if I had a map, it would help. It would make it easier to mark what I remember."

"To think, it only took nine years and an apocalypse for you to finally hand over the intel."

John huffs, but his response is only mildly offended. "Do you want what I have to offer, or not?"

"Don't be like that," Kim says, placating him with a smile. "It would be a big help. It'll help me sleep better, anyway."

It seems there's more on John's mind than Kim teasing him, since he takes the non-apology and moves on without a fight. "Jacob had caches buried for after the Reaping," he says. "They'll most likely be weapons, but he was... hard to read. It could be that he stored survival equipment in one. There were a few in the valley, but most of them would be in the mountains."

Kim shakes her head at that. "As far as I've heard, nobody's made it very far north. And the stories I have heard aren't good. The dam broke, so a lot of the area is flooded, and supposedly the radiation is still pretty bad."

John hums briefly as he considers the facts. He leans contemplatively over the list, and for a moment Kim wonders if this was a common occurrence for him before the Collapse. How many late nights did he spend bent over a map while his brothers watched and waited for his decisions? She has to suspect it was a lot, because this is the first time she's seen John look even remotely confident.

That confidence is clear in his voice as he remarks defiantly, "I suppose the valley will do until we get airborne again. Let flooding stop us then ."

"Oh, okay," Kim laughs, checking her volume before she lets her amusement wake up the rest of her family. "You are just like Nick. Neither of you are going to give up until you get back in the sky, huh?"

"Exactly," John replies. "I won't trust anybody else to do it. Realistically, a helicopter would be the best option..."

"Oh, right," Kim chuckles. " Realistically ."

John taps accusingly at the list and raises an eyebrow at her. "Less realistic than hot water and iodized table salt?"

If Kim didn't know better, she might think that John is actually teasing her. He normally saves that kind of attitude for Nick, who prefers arguing through and around problems. Kim, on the other hand, rarely has the energy to deal with avoidance tactics, and so she tends to demand his sincerity. Thankfully, the liminal time of just-about-three has softened her stance on the matter.

"Okay," she relents with a smile. "Sure. Might as well add helicopters to the list." It would be a pretty big get for them, all things considered. And anyway, John's right — Kim wouldn't trust flying in a plane jury-rigged together by anyone other than Nick.

But that's a resource that will come in the nebulous future, and Kim's too realistic to worry years in advance right now. There are more pressing concerns to deal with, first — like food, water and security. Any caches John can find will at least fulfill one of those priorities, although Kim can't imagine the cult storing anything other than ammunition and weapons. But even if the caches don't pan out, they might find valuable scrap, like logs for firewood, furniture they can re-purpose, or even old survivalist caches that nobody thought to dig up after the world ended. And now that there are four of them, Kim won't feel so uncomfortable when Nick wants to drive to the middle of nowhere looking for supplies.

Kim sighs with relief, feeling a weight roll off her back that she hadn't been trying to remove. "Things will be a lot easier if you can help us with supplies. And I'll feel better about Nick going out if he has somebody to watch his back."

John pulls the same face he usually makes when someone implies they trust him. Kim could ignore it — after all, John doesn't need to believe they trust them for it to be true. Too bad for him, it's too late at night for her to turn a blind eye. "Oh, get over it," she tells him, unable to help a lopsided smile at his offended scowl. "I seriously doubt you're planning on murdering us at this point. And I know Nick is smart enough to knock the crap out of you if he thinks you've changed your mind."

"I won't," John immediately replies.

Kim believes him, if only because there's nobody left for John to rely on other than them. "Good. Because if I can trust you, that means I won't worry about Nick when he decides to go farther than town. It means we can spend more meaningful time with Carmina, too. Anyway, Nick likes bossing you around, and you like being bossed around, so everybody wins."

John ducks his head, embarrassed, but Kim laughs to let him know she's only teasing. "Seriously," she says, relenting for his benefit, "It does help. It's good to have somebody else to rely on."

"I... want to be helpful," John replies, although Kim suspects that he might be confusing his wants and needs again. It's not quite a compulsion anymore, but even John's most heated attempts to argue about a job end with him rolling over quick. He hasn't outright refused to do something, and Kim doesn't think he ever will, if only to prove to himself one more time that he might actually be capable of change.

It might get annoying one day, but for now, Kim can respect his intense desire to make amends. She just wishes he would accept some form of gratitude or praise in return, to make it less awkward on her end.

Kim rests her hands momentarily on the tabletop, tapping her fingers briefly against the wood. "Okay," she softly declares, "I think I'm going to try to get back to sleep." Whatever she winds up dreaming about now, she's pretty sure it won't be the same awful nightmare again — and that's at least partially because of John's intervention. She figures it's worth telling him as much. "You made a pretty good distraction, so thanks."

He nods immediately in response. "Of course," he replies, momentarily bewildered as he checks Kim's expression for signs of sarcasm or annoyance. His posture relaxes as Kim stands, although Kim imagines his relief is temporary. He's pretty good at working himself up into anxious frenzies — staying out of them is another matter entirely.

"Try to get some sleep yourself, okay?" Kim suggests.

There's no way John means it when he says, "I will," but at least he's willing to placate her instead of getting mad at her being concerned in the first place.

"And try not to wake up Carmina."

John nods affirmatively. Kim's positive that he'll sneak outside once she's gone upstairs, but at least he's waiting patiently for her to leave. If it weren't for her returning exhaustion, Kim might've used him as an excuse to do her own late-night workout, but it'll have to do to merely turn a blind eye to him edging around her rule about going out after dark alone. Kim and Nick have both been woken up by the exterior doors, but John never goes beyond the planters out back, and he always closes up when he comes back in. Kim could call him out on it, but... well, it seems like he needs the freedom.

Kim says goodnight and is mildly surprised when John returns it without any lingering sarcasm. He must be pretty tired, but that's not really a surprise. Hopefully, he'll try to take some of her concern to heart, or at least pretend for her sake.

Although Carmina is definitely still asleep when Kim returns to the bedroom, Nick is watching her with bleary-eyed curiosity. He waits until she's closed the door to speak up, and even then it's a dull, quiet whisper.

"Everything okay?" he asks.

He doesn't mind waiting for Kim to creep back to bed before she answers. "It is," she tells him, gratefully crawling into bed as he opens his arms for her. He folds his arms over her shoulders, letting her wiggle into a comfortable spot before she explains in a whisper. "I needed to move around, and John came downstairs. That's all."

"Hope he wasn't a creep," Nick mumbles into her hair. Kim sighs laughingly into his collarbone, which is already sticking to her cheek with sweat. There's no way she's going to be wrapped up in Nick's arms all night, not when it's this hot, but she'll appreciate it while she's got it.

"Not yet," Kim says. "Just talking about supplies." She presses a kiss to Nick's shoulder and whispers, "We'll talk about it in the morning."

Nick hums happily into Kim's hair. "Sounds good to me," he mumbles. The less they talk about John Seed, the better, after all. Especially right now, when they're tangled up in bed with their daughter snoring next to them; there's no room for serious conversation, and there's absolutely no room for John. There's no space for the nightmares that woke her, either; as Kim falls asleep, Nick's hand tangled up in her hair, she thankfully forgets everything save for a warm, melancholy amber glow.

[musiqueetude]

College/University Talk: Why you can not escape 8am classes

Today, we are going to be talking about something that studyblr tends to tell you to avoid. That is ✨ 8 a.m. classes ✨

Yes, the dreaded and hellish 8 a.m. classes that everyone tells you to avoid because yes, they are hell, they are early, and frankly no one wants to do that. However, depending on your major, your college/university, the professors, and just how the college within the university has classes structured, plus what courses you need to take to graduate (whether major or general education classes), you may be stuck with 8 a.m. classes whether you like it or not. Take it from me, a music major who has to take two different theory classes back to back starting at 8 a.m every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday and those classes do not end until 9:50 a.m. And are in the same class room so I don’t have to move for two hours. (I have another class in that same class room like 2 hours after..so I don’t move around a lot in the Creative Arts building unless it’s a Monday) 

Let’s get into this dreaded topic 

Why 8 a.m. classes?

There really isn’t an answer to this because it can vary among college/universities, the college within the university, the professors, the major, the course structure, and when classrooms are available to be used in buildings. Some professors may teach multiple classes (Creative Arts professors especially music can teach multiple classes and may only have a morning time period to teach), professors and students may be morning people, the course structure may be throughout by the university and college itself, and sometimes an 8 a.m. class is the only option of time available for it to occur. It really can be a mystery and it could be any of those. While I don’t work in administrations (obviously), I’m assuming it is because of those. It can be any of those or anything truly. It is how it is and we can’t change anything about it. 

Are 8 a.m. classes all that bad?

It depends. Sometimes you may be a morning person and want to start out your day with morning classes to get done before noon or a certain time. You need morning classes due to work. You may just be required to start your day at 8-8:30 because your major and required general education courses began at that time and you have gone with it. You may be used to starting your day that early from work or high school/pervious college/etc., and need to keep that routine. Or, on the other hand you may be the person who absolutely hates and despises morning classes because who the hell would want to wake up at the crack of dawn to get ready for classes. You may not be a morning person. You may have work in the morning so you can’t take them and rather have it that way. 

It really all depends on what you want to, what you need to course wise, and what you may be stuck with as a schedule. With quarantine and how everything has been the past few months due to classes being online and a good majority of us having to go back to being on campus, 8 a.m. courses may not be for you and you may have worked with your advisor to change all that..however..sometimes you may be stuck with them and it just depends how you feel with them. 

Personally for me, I did my work study job starting at 8 a.m. throughout my entire freshmen year both semesters and it actually helped me be awake and be productive even if I wanted to sleep in. It got me going and you may need that structure in your daily life and routine to wake up early and start your day off with classes or work. It’s really dependent on you as a person. 

How your major can make you take 8 a.m. classes 

Many of you may not like this..but as I stated your major can make you take 8 a.m. classes because of major requirement courses. That is literally how it can be majority of the time because your major requirement courses are the ones you need to take to help keep you on track to graduate. As a music major, I know my music theory classes start at 8 a.m. and go up until 9:50 a.m. back to back. I have to take 2 different theory classes and I have to take three of them the fall (taking the Written Theory 1 and Aural Theory 1 this semester, Written and Aural Theory 2 spring semester, then Written and Aural Theory 3 the following fall semester) and from what I have seen by going into universities degree’s work page..they are 8-8:50 a.m. to 9-9:50 a.m. classes. It is literally required by my major courses that are required for me to graduate to take morning classes. So, while I may grow to hate morning classes. I can not escape not taking them. It will happen. 

You may not be able to around escaping 8 a.m. classes no matter what because your major has required courses that are 8 a.m. and there is no other time at all. No other time. That can be for a one day two-three credit class, or like me a class that spans across three different days of the week and has a set time no matter what. It is part of my major required courses and it’s something I and others have to deal with. Literally that is how it is. 

How you can make taking 8 a.m. classes good, tolerable, and beneficial

Once again, this really depends on who you are as a person. It may be super, super difficult at first to get used to taking early morning classes. To having to get up earlier than you want too to get ready to get out your house/apartment/residence hall and trying to adjust your sleep schedule. Trust me, I know it is hard, yet there ways you can adjust, make the classes good, tolerable, and beneficial. Get to know people if you can, see if anyone in your residence hall or a classmate lives close to you and maybe walk/drive (although some may not want to share cars right now so that’s okay) together to class so it helps get you up. It can help make having the classes more good and tolerable for you and may be beneficial if you have to miss that class one morning for some reason and you need to know what happened. Plus, it can be beneficial because you can literally get the class out of the way. Morning classes can be really beneficial if you have a busy afternoon or night and need to go back home/residence hall to take a nap, relax, and get ready for the rest of your day. Of course, it all depends on you as a person, your schedule, and how you want go about your day in college/university. 

Pros and Cons of 8 a.m. classes

Pros: Can get classes out of the way, helps you get moving if you are a morning person, allows you to plan your day so you can be done by a certain time for whatever or for work/study/extra curricular activities that are later in the day, allows you to be able to get on campus and park if you need too early, allows you to be able to get morning major requirement or general education requirement classes out of the way for the rest of your day, and allows you to be able to work on homework for your in-person and online classes and other stuff. 

Cons: Very early, going to be unbearable throughout the first weeks of classes and maybe the entire semester, professors may be horrible, you may not be a person, class has the set time, may not be the best option but it is the only option you have, traffic to campus, classmates, building location on campus, back to back with another morning class that starts after. 

There can be way to these pros and cons. 

And that is all I have for now. I really, really wanted to get this out there because I usually see on here a lot telling college/university freshmen to just not take 8 a.m. classes when really as I have found out from my freshmen year and now this year being a sophomore is that you can not escape 8 a.m. classes. You can not escape them at all. It is impossible to get away from them because there is going to be times, maybe multiple times in semesters or in the same semester where you will take them. You will have morning classes no matter what. It is how it is and I feel like a lot of posts in this community telling people to not take them is not taking account for the fact people have too. Do we enjoy? No. Not one bit. Do we have to take them to graduate and continue on with our major? Yes. That is how it is. 

If you have any questions regrading early morning classes, feel free to ask me and make sure when you are scheduling for your courses, look at your college/universities schedule builder or degree works (or whatever system they use) to see times. Due to COVID we know this year a lot of college/universities have changed their classes, except some classes have not changed to online or hybrid classes. Five of mine that in-person music courses did not change, nor did the times. So check that for the spring semester on the system your universities used to give you classes you still need to take and how to see the times and check with your advisor too when scheduling for the spring semester comes about. 

If you are moving in or starting classes this week, be safe. Wear your mask, wash your hands, and clean your items/room regularly. And have a good first week as well. 

[marril96]

The Distance Between Us

Epilogue: What the Future Holds

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: Five years later...

A/N: Here we are, folks. This is the end. I would like to thank everyone who helped me get this story to where it is. From my wonderful editors to my faithful readers — I appreciate every single one of you amazing people. Thank you so much! For reading, commenting, helping me out, talking to me, believing in me, encouraging me to continue even when it was hard. I hope the ending is satisfying enough, and that we will hang out soon when I work on my other projects. Best of regards, Mariana. ♥

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian

*****

There was nothing better than a wedding to get the old gang back together.

It had been a while since you'd seen everyone all at once.

Five long years — ever since you'd graduated high school.

There were times when it felt as if it had happened yesterday. As if you'd just said goodbye to your friends before everyone went their own way, their own direction, colleges and jobs calling.

Time sure liked to fly.

You made sure to stay in contact with everyone. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram; all tools you readily used. They were your friends. Some distance couldn't change that.

The seven of you had your own Facebook chat group that was filled to the brim with messages. Memes were shared. Laughs exchanged — in emoji form, but laughs nonetheless. News, good and bad, were told. Advices asked for and given.

It almost felt like old times.

Almost.

But not quite.

The truth was, despite how hard you tried to maintain your friendship, things changed.

Life happened.

Sam had gone to Stanford on full scholarship, dreaming big of contributing to the world, helping save it. With the way things were going, you were confident he would do it. If anyone could help make the world a better place, it was him.

In his free time, he liked to give speeches on healthy lifestyles, which, for some bizarre reason, consisted of consuming a lot of kale.

A kale smoothie had become a signature of his, the cup seemingly glued to his hand.

He'd become a hit on the internet for it. A meme everyone in your friend group shared and poked fun at. Light-heartedly, of course.

Dean was convinced Sam was doing it to embarrass him.

Sam, in turn, had told him a healthier diet would do him good.

Dean wasn't interested, and, a few hours later, had posted a picture of himself stuffing a big, greasy hamburger into his mouth with the caption #DownWithKale.

Sam was not amused.

Crowley had changed his name as soon as he'd turned eighteen. Crowley had officially become his name, Fergus long forgotten, thrown in the trash where he felt it belonged.

His family still called him Fergus.

Well, Rowena and his mother did. Gavin, the good boy that he was, had always referred to him as Crowley, which was why he was Crowley's favorite family member (his only family member, if he had any say in it).

He'd gone into studying business, rich businessman future planned out to the smallest details. He'd intended to work his way to the top; it would take a while, but he was confident hard work, combined with his cunning, ambitious nature, would earn him the throne.

Maybe, he'd mused, he could eventually open his own company. Be his own boss. Set his own terms.

May he have the best of luck.

Castiel had gone into teaching. A surprising choice of career, especially considering his awkward nature, but it was what he wanted to do. Helping kids. Guiding them by his own example.

He certainly had the drive for it.

Who knows? Maybe kids would like him. Maybe they would like his awkwardness.

Meg, not really the scholarly type, had gone to community college and had found herself working in a supermarket.

She hated her job, and she hated the customers even more. The chat was frequently filled with her rants about one thing or another that had occurred at work that particular day.

Funny stuff, usually.

Especially when she snapped at customers and got reprimanded for it, but kept doing it anyway because her boss knew all too well he couldn't afford to lose her as an employee.

Instead of a college, Dean had gone into trades. He'd opened his own little mechanic shop back in Lawrence. It was hard work, far from ideal, paid just enough to cover the costs of living, but he enjoyed it. He was happy.

That was all that mattered.

Rowena had worked hard on her intensive at Joffrey. It was a difficult three months; she was always practicing, always dancing, on her feet from dawn to dusk. You'd barely gotten to talk, aside from the weekends, which you'd spent in front of your phones or laptops, Skype open, smiles wide as you talked about each week's events.

You'd missed her so much.

Too much.

But, as with all things, the intensive had eventually ended and you'd gotten to have her home for a week — a whole week! — before college officially started.

The two of you couldn't keep your hands off each other that entire time.

It wasn't enough — seven measly days was far from enough — but it was something.

After three months of drought, it was the welcome, desperately awaited rain.

Parting for college was even more difficult. You'd each gone your own way, different as you were, each pursuing your own dream.

It was a struggle, but, like the intensive, you'd made it work.

You'd kept in contact. Skyped at every available moment. Traveled to one another's schools when the opportunity arose. Made sure to spend the holidays (the most important ones) together.

And, just like that, years had gone by, and soon enough school was behind you and you were together once again.

The decision to move in together was a mutual one. It was more of an understanding, really. With school behind you, jobs calling, and the relationship stronger than ever even all these years later, it just made sense to take it a step further.

Why wouldn't you live together?

You did everything else together, so you might as well, to quote Crowley every time he walked in on you making out, get a room.

So you did.

You rented an apartment in Manhattan. A small one that, despite its size, was warm and pleasant and felt just like home.

Your and Rowena's home.

Sometimes it felt like a dream.

As if, every moment now, you would wake up and realize the last five years of your life were nothing but a fantasy, a product of your sleeping mind.

Then you would kiss Rowena's cheek, take a sip of tea from her mug just to tease her (her glares and pouts were adorable), and smile, and the reality — your reality, one you'd worked hard to accomplish, your so wished for future — would settle in and all the silly thoughts would go away as if they'd never existed.

You'd made it.

The future you'd dreamed of, that you and Rowena had planned for so thoroughly, had come to be.

It wasn't perfect, but it was yours.

Rowena had found work at Broadway. She was a dancer, and an excellent one; with Joffrey on her resume, the job was hers the moment she'd stepped into the audition room.

You were having difficulty with finding employment yourself, but, luckily, her pay was enough to cover the living costs of the two of you.

You felt bad; the last thing you wanted was to look as if you were taking advantage. But she'd made it clear she didn't mind. You were together. A family, for no other word could describe what you had, what you'd built and grew together. What was hers was yours, and vice versa.

Being a housewife wasn't your ideal profession, if one could call it that, but it wasn't bad.

It was, dare you say it, fun.

You found yourself enjoying awaiting Rowena's return after a long, exhausting day on her feet — literally — with a loving hug, a peck on the lips, and a warm meal on the table — a delivery from a restaurant or a warmed up can, for cooking was a skill you were still far from perfecting.

You were happy.

And so was she.

The two of you made it work.

Lately, Rowena had been considering joining the Royal Ballet. It was a big step, one that required careful thinking and plenty of discussions.

Moving to another city was one thing.

Moving to another country, half across the world, on the other hand…

She'd made it clear she wasn't going to make the decision without you. This concerned you, too; if you wanted to stay in New York, you would stay.

Both of you.

She just wanted you to think about it, weigh in cons and pros.

And you did.

You'd been thinking about it for weeks.

Bless her heart, Rowena was patient. She didn't push you, or rush you, or try to guilt you. She left you to your own pace.

You were immensely grateful for it.

By the time the wedding came, you were pretty sure you'd made up your mind.

In a day or two — hell, maybe even today, after the ceremony — you would tell her.

It was a small wedding, closest family and friends only. Sam was never one for parties. He and Eileen had rented a small cottage with a beautiful yard they'd decorated themselves. Quite cheap, as far as American weddings went, but lovely.

This was a wedding for love, not luxury.

When Sam had announced he was engaged in the group chat a year ago, you weren't surprised. You'd always had a feeling he would go for it first. While Dean was a one night stand kind of guy, Sam was more the settle down type. The kind of guy who kicked ass at work during the day and then cuddled with his wife and kids at night. The picture of a family man.

And, god, would he be a good one!

He was sweet and caring, a wonderful friend, and, no doubt, an even more wonderful boyfriend. Husband material, if you ever knew one.

Eileen was equally sweet, equally amazing. A lovely girl who treated everyone like a friend and loved Sam with all her heart.

They were perfect for each other.

Seeing your gang together after five years, in person, in full color, was an experience that was almost supernatural. There was screaming and squealing and hugging and teasing. You'd forgotten how noisy you were all together.

Your mind flashed back to high school, to afternoons at Biggerson's, sipping at your smoothies and coffees and stealing fries off each other's plates.

Those were the days.

There wasn't much difference to either of you. You were older, but other than that, you still looked the same. You teased each other as you'd used to, joked as if you were still that bunch of high schoolers who had the whole world under their feet.

There were changes, obviously. Inevitably. Some subtle, others not so much.

Sam's hair was an inch or so shorter, or so it looked in the pictures (he was still getting ready, having not yet shown himself to the guests).

You followed his example, having never been one for big change. Shorter hair was shorter hair, even if only a bit.

Dean bore — proudly — a few scars. Work injuries, though you were willing to bet he'd earned a couple in the bar fights he liked to brag about.

"You should see the other guy," he always said.

You never had any particular desire to.

Crowley had a small beard, and wore it well; it made him look older, more mature.

Emphasis on look, for he and Rowena still bickered like brats.

Gavin, the actual child of the family, was more mature than the two of them.

Rowena wore less sparkly clothes (she now saved those for special occasions). Instead, she preferred to wear dress pants and blouses that you found strangely arousing.

Sometimes you got her to role-play in them. She made one delicious businesswoman.

Castiel dressed the same, trench coat over everything (even wore the damn thing to the wedding), looked the same, acted the same, however, his change was big.

It tied right into Meg's for she was seven months pregnant, and her stomach was appropriately swollen to showcase it.

She'd gained a bit of weight and dyed her hair blonde, but her character remained the same.

She was still that same foul-mouthed, opinionated firecracker of a girl.

And you loved her for it.

"You look great!" you told her first thing you saw her. Then you threw an arm around her, your other one wrapping around Castiel, and said, "I couldn't wait to congratulate you guys in person! I'm so happy for you!"

You were.

Happy from the bottom of your heart.

Ecstatic.

Proud.

The two of them had done well for themselves. Like your and Rowena's, their life wasn't perfect, but they made it work. They lived it to the fullest.

They were happy.

In love.

Excited for the baby, a joyous little accident.

You weren't the parenting type, (neither was Rowena), however, while raising a family wasn't your particular dream, you couldn't have been more excited for them.

This was what they wanted.

What kind of a friend would you be if you judged?

Families came in all shapes and sizes.

As did dreams. Ambitions. Aspirations.

Supporting them, wishing them well in any and every form — that was the true meaning of friendship.

Meg and Castiel would make amazing parents.

Weird and eccentric, but still amazing.

That baby would be one happy, very loved kid. Surrounded by a large family of aunts and uncles, all loving, caring, eager to spoil them.

Blood-related and not.

As far as Meg and Castiel were concerned, your group was family.

It was definitely better than some actual family members.

Like Castiel's father, good old Principal Shurley, who'd, a couple years ago, gotten himself into quite a bit of trouble for embezzlement.

The news didn't quite shock you as it should have. There was always something about him.

Lucifer never stopped getting in trouble. Only, once he was out of school, his daddy couldn't sweet talk his way out of it (not that he hadn't tried; Castiel talked quite a bit about Chuck's restless attempts, and failures, to save him) and thus the darling little angel had gotten himself quite a record.

Assault.

Harassment.

Battery.

You name it, he'd done it.

It turned out that the police didn't give a damn about what daddy Shurley had to say about his son's character.

They surely gave even less of a damn now that he was serving his sentence for embezzlement.

Lucifer was currently with him, doing a two year stint for… something.

It was hard to keep track when it came to him.

The current Lawrence Hugh's principal was Amara Shurley, Chuck's sister, because of course she was.

Nepotism for the win!

Though, from everything you'd heard, she was, so far, doing a great job. Far better than her brother ever did.

Castiel had cut all ties with his father and brother. He'd considered doing so earlier, but now that he was expecting a child, the decision came with ease.

He didn't want his child around criminals. Didn't want them to set the wrong example.

That alone told you he was going to be a great father.

The ceremony, modest as it was, was beautiful. Eileen, in her snow-white dress, looked like a princess. No — a queen, the veil a doubling as a crown. Sam was equally handsome, clad in a black suit that made him look somewhat older, more mature, a fairy tale prince come to life.

They said their vows with so much love on their faces you were one hundred percent certain they would make do on them to the letter.

Til death did them part.

There were smiles. Tears. So much joy it was overwhelming.

Meg was the lucky one who caught the bouquet, only to promptly, in a deadpan tone, say, "No," and shove it in Crowley's hands.

Crowley shoved it in Dean's, who shoved it back to him and started what was basically a struggle over the damn thing.

Not marriage material, your group.

Sam was the black sheep.

Laughter was exchanged.

Food — delicious! — eaten.

Drinks downed and refilled.

Dances had.

Aside from the newlyweds, Rowena had proven herself to be quite an attraction with her precise, professional moves. Everyone wanted to be her partner.

Not a dancer yourself, you had no problem with it.

However, after what had to be the tenth request, you considered charging people to dance with your girlfriend.

It was only fair.

The celebration extended long into the night. There was enough alcohol to keep everyone going.

The place, located in the middle of nowhere, was perfect for a party. No neighbors to complain about the noise. No busybodies sticking their nose in. Just a group of people having the fun of their lives, drunk out of their minds.

By the time you and Rowena arrived to your hotel, you were exhausted. There was more alcohol than blood in your veins. Your feet were killing you. Your throat ached from singing and shouting.

You hadn't even removed your clothes — shaking off your shoes, you plopped on the bed, curled up against each other, and drifted off to sleep.

When you woke up, Rowena was looking at you with a smile on her face. Your head pounding as if someone were whacking it with a hammer, eyes stinging, it took a bit of willpower to pull on one of your own.

"Were you watching me sleep?" Your voice was raspy, broken. You cleared your throat. Sucked in a breath.

God.

Singing had been a mistake.

Her smile melted into a smirk. She shrugged, nonchalant. Denying not a single thing. "I was just thinking."

"Should I be worried?" you teased.

"I'd hope not."

Her face grew serious.

Uh oh.

Now you definitely were worried.

Morning — a hungover one at that — was the worst possible time for serious conversations.

It wasn't a surprise, though.

Rowena prided herself in her unpredictability.

"What is it?" you asked, light draining from your face. Preparing for news that, at best, would be unpleasant, and, at worst, absolutely horrible.

"Sam and Eileen seem happy."

They did.

They were happy.

You nodded.

Rowena sighed, "Do you think we're happy?"

What was she trying to say? Heart racing, lump forming in your throat, you uttered a tad too defensively, "Do you think we're not?"

"Of course not!"

She seemed genuine, so there was that.

You allowed yourself a moment of relief. "Me, neither. I'm happy."

"As am I."

Good.

That was good.

You were on the same level.

She was silent for a few moments. Thought her words through. "I was just wondering if we should… take it a step further."

You frowned. "What do you mean?"

You had an inkling, but you wanted to hear it from her.

You wanted her to confirm it.

Rowena swallowed. "Get married."

It was as if all air had vanished from your lungs. Your throat was dry. Heart, once again, running a marathon. Hands shaking as if you were cold.

You weren't — you couldn't be — for as soon as the words left her mouth, a wave of heat flooded you, filled you up from head to toe.

Marriage wasn't on your list of priorities.

Wasn't on any of your lists, as a matter of fact.

You and Rowena loved each other — you didn't need a piece of paper to prove it.

But…

It would be a lie if you said you hadn't considered it once or twice.

What would it be like to call yourself her wife? To wear her ring; a promise in the form of shimmery gold?

"Or maybe just get engaged," she said after a few moments of uncomfortable, deafening silence. "Wear the rings."

You looked at her, eyes wide. Mouth trembling.

She gulped. Uncertain. Frightened. Nervous to the bone. "We don't have to. I was just… thinking out loud." She pulled on another smile — a fake on this time, hurt flickering over her face no matter how hard she tried to mask it. "Forget I said anything."

"No." You reached for her hand, twined your fingers with hers in a tight knot. "We could try."

She was stunned. "Really?"

"I don't see why not."

What was the worst that could happen?

You were already together. Already happy and crazy in love.

"We could try the engagement thing, see if it works," you said.

You had nothing to lose.

At this point, you could only gain.

Rowena beamed. A chuckle escaped her; lovely, happy. Adorable. "Okay!"

It was a perfect arrangement.

"I will get you a ring," she added. "Make it official."

"How about we both get rings?" you said. This was kind of a mutual proposal, after all. And also… "There's nice jewelry shops in the UK, right?"

It was her turn to be confused. "What?"

Your decision.

The one you'd been planning to relay to her.

The timing couldn't have been more perfect.

"We don't have to get engaged in USA, right?" you said. "Think about it. You, a Royal Ballerina. Me, a not-so-royal couch potato. That's a romance movie right there!"

Rowena gasped. Swallowed. Breathed in and out in attempts to contain her excitement. "You want to move to Britain?"

"That's what I'm saying, aren't I?" You grinned. Squeezed her hand. "I've been meaning to tell you. I figured now's the perfect time."

"Y/N, I…" She brought your linked hands to her mouth, kissed your knuckles. "Thank you! I just… Thank you, darling!"

You locked your lips with hers. Deepened the kiss, melted into it. Thought of millions of more you would share.

The future was yours.

All you had to do was seize it. Take it. Dig your claws in and never let go.

"Don't you forget me when you become a world-famous ballerina," you teased.

"Och, darling," she purred, "don't you know by now you're quite unforgettable?"

You chuckled. "Just making sure."

She pecked you on the mouth. "I love you."

"Me, too."

You'd loved her for five years.

You'd loved her when she was bad, and even more when she became good.

You'd loved her when she was away, and you'd loved her when she was here.

You'd loved her in your apartment.

You'd loved her in the United States.

And you would love her in the United Kingdom.

You loved her now, and you would love her in the future.

Forever.

And ever.

Til death did you part.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @shadowgirl-vsb @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @ruthieconnells @evil-regal-vampiress @collectorofsecretsandsouls @angel-e-v-a @a-queen-and-her-throne @carryon-doctor-lock

[somemellifluouswords]

Get Away

Wow has it been forever. I tried to get back into some writing and this isn’t my finest work but that’s what happens when you don’t write in forever! I’ve missed you all and hope this will help get the creative juices flowing. No promises on when I’ll post more frequently but I hope you enjoy. Feedback much appreciated as always! Thank you all for being amazing as always! Love you! (This imagine is all cringe mushy gushy lovey dovey stuff!)

- 🌻

Some mornings you wake up with an urge to do anything and everything. Determined to defeat all purpose of daily life and what is expected. Driven to sacrifice all that you wake up for and just once play hooky. Today is the day they forget the world exists.

It’s Sunday, yet barely Sunday. The sun has yet to rise. The moon still shines bright and the sound of crickets fills the night in song. Inside it’s warm. She’s cuddled into his side, breathing faintly into his neck. He’s awake, gently stroking her hair with the tips of his fingers. Something inside of him wants her all to himself today. The world cannot have any of her today.

He’s driven to give her everything he can. Let’s get away he thinks to himself. Let’s get away right now. And it’s as if she reads his mind in her slumber. She moves against him, her hold around his torso wearing off. Her lips press to the neck if his skin. His free arm wraps around one of her thighs and she breath the feeling of her lashes fluttering against his skin.

“Are you alright?” She whispers faintly waiting for his answer. He’s quiet and she focuses on his breathing trying to keep her eyes open. The sensation of his fingers in her hair soothes her like a lullaby.

She’s tracing patterns on his bare skin, her finger rising and falling at his every breath. “Ethan ...” she whispers again, just loud enough over the crickets.

He smiles to himself, wide awake and ready to drive away. “Let’s get out of here. Let’s just get out of here”. She doesn’t hesitate to lift herself up, surprising him with a firm kiss to his lips. When she pulls back she’s got a soft smile on her face. “We better hurry”

Within minutes they’ve thrown clothes, toiletries and other miscellanies objects into their bags and dressed ready to go. They’ve presumed it’ll be a warm day. He’s got on a pair of jeans and shirt. And she’s wearing his favourite little white flowy dress, the one thats been worn far too often but holds a special place in his heart. She slips into sandals, throwing her hair quickly behind her ears. Scanning the room they search for anything they might have missed, but they soon realize it doesn’t matter. They just want to get away.

They’re the only ones up at the early hour. The sun is slowly making its way up and the crickets have quieted down. The Chevy pickup roars to life, and she’s already got her feet up on the dashboard. She’s got a map in her hands and a pencil in between her teeth. The look of deep concentration on her face as her pretty orbs scan over spots they circled in the past for adventures they’ve awaited to pursue.

Windows are down. The radio plays soft tunes of songs they’ve woken up to, made love to, and sang on foreign adventures. He’s slowly driving down the main road, every so often watching her. She mumbles to herself, making a list of pros and cons as she always does. She’s so damn smart he thinks to himself.

When he pulls up to a red light she’s emitted a sound of satisfaction. “The cabin” her face gleams and he wants to kiss her right there and right now. “Let’s go to the cabin” He nods in agreement, a smirk on his face as he leans over the console planting a soft kiss to her lips.

“Eyes on the road my love” she teases sinking further into her seat with pink cheeks. He clicks his tongue continuing on down paths he’s recognized all to well.

The drive has been quiet so far, small talk of the nature they’ve seen, the songs they’ve heard and the frequent glances to one another they’ve caught red handed. Her legs haven’t moved from the dashboard and her dress has risen up but she’s far to innocent to notice. He’s smitten, the dress sits just far enough revealing only skin and he doesn’t tell her anything. She’s far too infatuated with what’s before her. And he wouldn’t have I any other way.

They pull over for a stretch and some breakfast. The sound of her stomach growling and the explosion of giggles that proceeded it from within her sends his heart fluttering. They jump out of the truck and onto concrete. The pit stop is empty for a few truck drivers and a small family of four.

She absently reaches for his hands and when they join they stretch their arms till they’re on their heels. He’s relieved to stand and with an arm around her shoulders they proceed to a small diner for a quick breakfast and then it’s back to the road.

For breakfast they feast on pancakes and coffee. Secluded in the back of their pickup they watch the sunrise close to one another’s side. It smells like dew and maple syrup. They come up with ideas of what they’ll do for the day. Lunch by the lake. Flower fields and flower picking. Reading to him by the campfire. Endless talks on the couch with the fireplace keeping them warm. And whatever else more.

When it’s time to go back on the road the sun has fully risen, and she adores the way it gleams down on him. His dark hair seem a dark brown and she imagines his hazel eyes glowing under the sunglasses. She loves the way he drums along to the song playing.

Her hair flourishes with the wind. She doesn’t seem to mind because she’s far to deep into her book. Her legs are crossed beneath her and she’s wearing her favourite jean jacket to keep her warm. He awaits the minute her sunglasses will fall back before her eyes. Currently they sit atop on her head, holding back hair threatening to fall before her face with the wind.

“We’re a couple minutes away” he announces as they pull up to a red light. They’ve been on off roads with no one around and lights are scarce. He chuckle to himself because she doesn’t hear. Completely tuned into the work of The Great Gatsby. He resorts to keeping it that way, far to infatuated by her concentration.

“Want me to drive?” She asks as he pulls over for another stretch. He rests his head against her shoulder and her fingers gently wisp through his hair. He closes his eyes for a few seconds before responding with a mumble. After allowing him time to stretch she’s in the drivers seat. Always a little to short she’s perched up, leaning slightly forward. Her sunglasses remain where they were minutes ago, and the last thing he see’s before he drifts off to sleep is her smiling at him telling him “I love you babe”

“Eth! Ethan! Get up sleepy head we’re here!” When he opens his eyes he’s met with her figure outside his door, gently shaking his shoulder. She smiles in content and rests her head on her arms folded on the open window. “Hello sleeping beauty.” She raises her eyebrows in amusement and he can’t help but laugh. “Now are you going to get out or not Eth?” She teases, before running off into the field of flowers.

Her jean jackets is falling off her shoulders. The sunglasses still sit on the top of her head, and when she looks up towards the sun she looks heavenly. Breathing in the pungent flavours of nature’s greatest beauty he’s mesmerized at how glorious she is. Sun paints her skin in gold. Like a layer of paint. Her eyes are shut and she’s breathing, breathing it all in. Alive and well. Never felt better.

He pulls his shirt over his head allowing the heat to sink into to his skin. He makes his way to where she stands and looks far out to where the flowers in a scatter of colours never seem to end. “It’s beautiful isn’t it?” She asks, a wide smile on her face. He chuckles, infatuated with how happy flowers make her. Her tips her glasses down before eyes before planting a kiss on her cheek. “Very”

Soon they’re sitting in their Chevy. Her jean jacket lays in the back discarded. His shirt beside it. They’ve got all the doors wide open. He’s seats pushed all the way back and she’s seating in his lap. Her legs hug his torso, and she’s mumbling sweet nothings as she makes him a flower crown. He watches her face intently, holding waist gently. His lips is filled with golden flowers and she’s picking off the tiny beauties, dropping their stems outside. Carefully and with every detail she places flowers into his hair, the soft tendrils enlightened with golden hues.

She giggles when she’s done pleased with her work. She hands him another flower still on its stem. Confused he takes it, careful not to move as she reaches over to pull out a Polaroid camera stored under the passenger seat.

“Smile in 3 ... 2 ... 1”

Catching him off guard he opts to place the flower between his teeth, a foolish half smirk on his face and eyes crinkled. The photograph comes out and she shakes it to reveal his reflection. She laughs amused and he can’t help but agree. “What a babe” she mutters before pulling him closer to her. “My babe” she mutters in between kisses. The flowers fall from his head. Her dress slouches from her body and there’s nothing more than he desires in this moment to feel every inch of her skin, painted with the yellow sun and smell of dew.

The cabin is warm. Smells of fire wood and honey. They place their luggage in their bedroom and she’s already hungry for a new adventure. Quickly they pack a lunch and she’s rushing him out the door. To the lake they go.

The walks hand in hand talking of the past , present and future. Nothing can seem to spoil their day today. Nothing else exists except for them. For lunch they enjoy sparkling apple cider and an arrangement of cheese and grapes. She’s made her infamous grilled cheese sandwiches, he eats two with content. Like children they play to see who can catch the most grapes in their mouth. To his surprise she wins. After it’s a game of tag.

They run barefoot. The grass is slightly wet, and it prickles their toes. It doesn’t matter though because he’s it, and she’s running for her dear life. The air fills with their cheerful laughter and playful threats. When he catches her he can’t help but hold on. And for a while they watch the water, his head on her shoulder. Arms wrapped around her and her hands resting atop his.

It’s almost dark when she pulls out her copy of The Great Gatsby. They sit together on the couch. He’s laid down, his head resting on her lap. And he closes his eyes as she reads, her voice like a song. And every so often she trails her finger through his hair and everything is perfect.

She doesn’t realize how long she’s been reading for and it’s dark out. Sighing she glances down to her lover who’s fallen asleep. He seems so peaceful she doesn’t have the heart to wake him but she knows he must get to bed. Gently she leans down and plants kisses all over his face. He wakes with a smile before grabbing her cheeks and planing a firm one to her lips.

“Didn’t know Gatsby bore you this much” she teases as he gets up. He can’t help but laugh, leaning his head back on the couch as she smiles at him eyebrows raised. “I was just comfy” he retorts. “You should sleep Eth, you’re exhausted” her voice is laced with concern and she rubs the back of her hand softly against his cheek.

He responds with a disapproving look. “Not at all. I’ve got a surprise for you” she’s smiling now, putting her book to the side as she sits on her knees facing him. “Are you being serious?” She asks. He smirks and can’t help but rush her out. “I’ll meet you on the balcony in 40 minutes. Go to our room and open the closet. I’ve got something there for you” before she can respond he’s up rushing towards the kitchen.

When she arrives in the room and opens the closet a beautiful dress awaits. It’s a pale pink. Thin straps, three little buttons on the front and the most delicate of flows on the bottom. Her hands run over the fabric and she almost misses the pair of nude heels sitting below the hanging dress. Whatever he’s got planned she’ll go with it. Because there’s no stopping Ethan.

After bathing and combing out her hair she’s in the dress and the heels. The slightest of makeup to enhance her features and a soft pink lip. She admires her reflection in the mirror. She feels beautiful. She hears him call her name, and she knows it’s time. One last glance in the mirror and she’s out the bedroom door.

Upon arriving to the balcony, which is lit with hanging lights, she gasps as he waits by a small table arranged with a delicious dinner. “I hope you don’t mind another round of grilled cheese” he smiles at her and she shakes her head smiling at him. “My goodness Ethan ... this is perfect” she’s breathless as he walks towards her dressed in a white dress shirt and black formal jeans. He spins her and take her all in. “Beautiful” he breaths out as he leans in to kiss her. She tastes like her lipstick and apple cider. And she smells like her perfume.

As they enjoy grilled cheese and another round of apply cider the moon shines bright. The night is warm and quiet. After dinner they proceed hand in hand to a log and soon he’s started a fire. He wraps himself and herself in a warm blanket. Together they prepare and eat s’mores. All throughout their meal kissing, laughing, and talking of whatever and ever they can think of.

Soon they’re dancing under the porch lights, swaying together with music playing from his Chevy. He sings to her softly. She listens to his voice and the way his heart beat is loud in her ear. They hold each other close. And when the song ends he slowly backs her up against his truck. Her cheeks turn crimson, dark enough that he can make it out with the bare light they’ve got. Admiring her he wants this to never end. Her breath hitches in her throat as he leans down and kisses her. She reciprocates. Their lips mould into one and they kiss like it’s the last time. The song starts again, but they don’t dance they just kiss.

He sits in bed with nothing but his trousers. His head rests against the headboard and his eyes closed. The bedroom is warm and smells of her perfume. When she opens the bathroom door he doesn’t open his eyes. So she takes it upon herself.

Feeling exhilarated and curious she carefully makes her way across the room. Swiftly she blows out the candles farther to their bed and soon she’s at the bed side. With ease she lifts one leg at a time and soon she’s sitting in his lap. He opens his eyes in surprise.

She sits before him bare faced, wearing his dress shirt and her soft naked legs wrapped around him, knees sinking into the mattress. He knows the look in her eyes, innocebt yet fierce, and he’s not one to stop her. “What are you up to babe?” He can’t help but tease, because he loves the way her cheeks burn red and her eyes fart anywhere but to meet his. He smirks in content and reaches out to grab her waist and hold her in place when she’s ready to remove herself off him. He leans in closer his forehead meeting hers. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it” he watches her lips curl into a smile.

She leans in and kisses him softly. He’s gentle with her. Her dainty hands roam his muscular arms. As the kiss intensifies he’s find his hands under her knees hoisting her up. She pulls away and is pleased with the look of dissatisfaction from his face. “Patience Eth patience” she teases. He gulps letting his head rest back against the head board when she bites her lip.

Hesitantly her digits work through the buttons of his shirt she’s got on. He bring out his hands to the collar when she reaches the last one and swiftly he pulls down the shirt. She reveals to him lacey undergarment. He has to catch his breath, and he’s stunned. Pretty in pink she is. His eyes skin her over countless times filled with immense love and admiration for the girl he calls mine. They’re lips meet again, the shirt hanging at her elbows. Soon it’s on the ground and she emits sounds of pleasure as the rough fabric of his jeans rubs against the skin on her inner thighs.

She loves the way his lips feel against her neck. She loves the way he whispers sweet nothings into her ear. She loves the way blood rushes to her head every time he bites her lip. Eventually she’s beneath him allowing him to kiss every inch of exposed skin. She crumples the silk sheets within her own hands as his lips near her own lotus. One last kiss to her inner thigh and their eyes meet again. His hips gently push against her as is she’s glass. Her nails delicately scratch his back and he can’t help but love the way her mouth emits mellifluous sounds. With ease he boosts her up, his legs off the bed feet firmly on the ground and her legs wrapped around him. His bites the softest spot on her neck sending a wave of warmth through her.

“Ethan” she breathes out before he unclamps the lacey garment off her sternum. He pulls away from her neck. He examines her kiss swollen lips. Her burning cheeks and passion filled eyes.

He nods at her to encourage her to go on, his hands supporting her back. She gently hold his cheeks. “I don’t want to go back” she whispers. “I want to stay here with you forever” he smiles at her words.

“I can’t keep you here forever babe” he whispers back, gently placing a kiss to her lips. She hums in response searching for an answer she would like to hear.

“But I can take you away for a little while” and with that her back meets the mattress , their bodies mergee into one, silk feels like milk against the bare skins, and for a little while longer it’s just him and her. Her and him. The world doesn’t exist.

[vvirgils]

Chronicles of Straith #2-The Witch’s Dragon:Chapter 16

Chronicles of Straith #1-Fate’s Door///Chapter 15/Chapter 17//Masterpost

Finally, Virgil got to relax. She was in one of the palace’s guest rooms, settling into the unfamiliar covers. An eternal fire burned at the foot of her bed, and Roman was in the room over. It was the closest thing to calm she could get in this crazy situation.

The dragon was safely contained, and she’d started referring to it as Gray. It made the creature seem like less of a threat, and more of a misunderstood animal. Virgil had eaten a full dinner, and discussed with Jessie what would happen tomorrow. Laurus was curled into her side, snoring peacefully.

So why couldn’t she fall asleep? Maybe it was because the shadows the fire cast on her ceiling turned into dangers and dragons. Or it was the covers shifting to keep her perfectly warm no matter how she moved. There was the faint purple glow of Gray’s cage coming from next to her bed. Her pajamas didn’t fit her quite right.

Or maybe, she felt like the weight of countless lives was on her shoulders, and there was no one else to share the burden. Time was of the essence, how could she be sleeping? There were a thousand things that could go wrong, and she hadn’t prepared for any of them. Five days to get to Lyrwrithe and back to Chanidy City. A half day to get back to Archdale. That left a day and a half for any slip-ups, and she and Roman had already used up a day.

Virgil tried to stop doing the math in her head, imagining everything that could go wrong, and how they would be completely, utterly screwed in most of these what-ifs. Maybe, just maybe, she thought, she should talk to someone. Vent her feelings, release her emotions in order to drift off into calm, peaceful sleep.

As if there was anyone she could talk to. Who else would understand how she was feeling? Who else was dealing with this very specific, yet very important, problem? It’s not like people advertised when they went on quests to save people. She certainly hadn’t with Roman the first time, when they tried to stop the prophecy.

Right, Roman. The person who was in this with Virgil. The friend who was probably just as lost as she was. If there was anyone else awake at this hour wondering about tomorrow, it was Roman. She weighed the pros and cons of waking them up for a second before deciding that anything was better than lying in bed and staring at the ceiling.

Taking care not to disturb the snoring Laurus, Virgil eased her way out of bed and padded over to Roman’s room. The door was open, and she stood there awkwardly for a second, realizing that there was a very good chance Roman was asleep, and she was just being weird.

“Roman,” she said into the quiet room, “are you awake?” Virgil waited, hoping she was loud enough for them to hear.

“Yeah, Virgil?” Roman asked. She could see their fuzzy figure sit upright in the bed.

“I can’t sleep, do you mind if I come in and talk for a bit?” Not knowing what to do with herself. Virgil leaned against the doorframe.

Roman could only imagine how tired she must be. “Sure, come on in.” They patted the spot of bed next to them, inviting her to sit down.

Virgil sat down next to them, slumping into the headboard. “Why are we here again?”

“What do you mean?”

“On the road, stressed out, trying to stop something that is probably inevitable,” Virgil said, turning her head to rest on Roman’s shoulder.

“This time it’s just us, though. No Logan and Patton to worry about.” Roman rested their head against Virgil’s, sighing.

“I kind of miss them already.”

“Me too.”

They contemplated it together for a bit, then Virgil said, “Pretty sure Logan wouldn’t have let us stop at the market, though.”

“And Patton would have had a thousand questions for Jessie,” Roman said, a smile crossing their face at the thought, though Virgil couldn’t see it.

“Not that having two less people makes this whole thing any less stressful.”

“If anything, it’s more stressful. I mean, it’s just the two of us this time around. None of Logan’s brilliance, or Patton’s ability to make everyone get along.”

Roman let that thought sink in before asking, “Are you cold?”

“Not too much.”

“Here.” They lifted the bedsheet, and Virgil put her lower body under the covers, missing Roman’s warmth the second she took her head off their shoulder.

“My legs feel a lot warmer now,” Virgil said, feeling herself relaxing. “Do you mind talking to me? I can go back to my room, I don’t want to keep you up.”

“No, no. Stay. I couldn’t really fall asleep either, and this beats being alone with my thoughts,” Roman said, looking up and then back down at Virgil.

“Yeah, because everybody loves thinking about worst case scenarios for the morning when they know they should be sleeping,” Virgil said, yawning.

“Why do we never think about the best-case scenarios?” Roman asked, to themself and Virgil.

“What do you mean?”

“Like, why is it that at night, when you’re in bed thinking about tomorrow, your brain never thinks about all the ways it could go right? I mean, we could get put on the fastest ship in the kingdom, speed to Lyrwrithe, where we free the dragon into its perfect environment. Then, we stay for a few days learning about magic because we have the time, Laurus finds other dragons like him, maybe even a best friend—”

“Your best-case scenario included Laurus finding a best friend?” Virgil asked, somewhat judgemental. She waited a second, then laughed, shaking her head. “Keep going.”

“Okay, Laurus finds a best friend, we learn that Epos is wanted for murder or something in Canea, so he’s out of our hair,” Roman animated everything with their hands, growing excited about this make-believe future. “You learn everything there is to know about sorcery, and by the time we’re heading back on this really fast sailboat you know more than Rafaela. They throw a big feast for us here when we get back, because we can finally, you know, get rid of my dad. So we head back, finish what my mother started, and we live happily ever after.” Roman folded their hands in their lap, satisfied with the story.

Virgil thought it over for a second, and figured that thinking about that was better than the worst-case scenarios. “I mean that’s highly unrealistic, but…”

“But what? Would you rather think about dying and failing?”

“No, no. I don’t want to—” Virgil stopped talking, not wanting to entertain those ideas any more than she had to. Subject change. She needed to change the topic. “What do you mean, finish what your mother started?” Roman rarely brought up their mother, and she knew it was a sensitive subject.

“Oh. Yeah, that. I went through some of her old letters in Canea, and well, she didn’t really love my dad. She married him as part of a plot to help take him down and keep him from, you know, tyranny,” Roman said, feeling the emotions surrounding those letters brushing past them. They knew the chest with Madeline’s old things was somewhere in the palace.

“That’s awful to find out, Roman, I’m sorry,” Virgil said, reaching her hand over to hold theirs. She wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for, but comforting Roman was the least she could do.

“I mean, it’s not a surprise. He’s awful. I always wondered how she could have married him. I try to hold onto what little of her that I have, because I don’t want to turn out like Epos, anything could be better. Reading the letters was refreshing, I guess. To know that she was a good person, and that well, she loved me. She wrote about me before I was born, and I still hold onto the scarf she made.” Roman fell silent, knowing that they could go on forever. And sleep was already settling on their eyes, telling them to let go of the thoughts inside their head and escape into dreams.

But Roman knew that with Virgil here, their closest confidant, there were very few limits to what they would tell her. There was something about how they trusted her—and, they hoped, how she trusted them—that made Roman feel safe, at home. Maybe it was that she was Roman’s first real, true best friend, maybe it was that she was letting Roman’s words sit in silence right now, lending them the meaning and value Roman gave them.

Maybe it was that her hand still rested on theirs. “I think we both need some sleep,” Virgil finally said, leaning her head on Roman’s shoulder.

The two of them kept talking after that, but their words were lost to the fog of memories made late at night.

[contrariian-archive]

FALL OUT BOY’S ‘TAKE THIS TO YOUR GRAVE’ STARTERS

feel free to change pronouns/etc

TELL THAT MICK HE JUST MADE MY LIST OF THINGS TO DO TODAY

‘ light that smoke. ’ ‘ they’ll kill you sooner than my expectations. ’ ‘ i could have died with you. ’ ‘ i hope you choke on those words, that kiss, that bottle. ’ ‘ let’s play this game called “when you catch fire, i wouldn’t piss to put you out.” ‘ ‘ stop burning bridges. ’ ‘ stop burning bridges, and drive off them so i can forget about you. ’ ‘ bury me in memory. ’ ‘ on the drive home, joke about the kid you  used to see and his jealousy. ’ ‘ breaking hearts never looked so cool. ’ ‘ his smile’s your rope, so wrap it tight around your throat. ’

DEAD ON ARRIVAL

‘ hope this is the last time, cause i’d never say no to you. ’ ‘ there’s no way to talk to you. ’ ‘ a rivalry goes so deep between me and this loss of sleep over you. ’ ‘ this is side one, flip me over — i know i’m not your favorite record. ’ ‘ the songs you grow to like never stick at first. ’ ‘ it’s not the last time. ’

GRAND THEFT AUTUMN/WHERE IS YOUR BOY

‘ where is your boy tonight? i hope he is a gentleman. ’ ‘ maybe he won’t find out what i know. ’ ‘ you were the last good thing about this part of town. ’ ‘ i’m willing to take my chances on the hope i forget. ’ ‘ i wrote this for you. ’ ‘ you need him  —  i could be him. ’ ‘ i’m still trying. that’s more than i can say for him. ’ ‘ i’ll sport my brand new fashion of waking up with pants on at four in the afternoon. ’ ‘ i’m still trying. ’

SATURDAY

‘ i’m good to go. ’ ‘ i’m going nowhere fast. ’ ‘ i could be taking you there with me. ’ ‘ it looks like i’m still on my own. ’ ‘ i’m coasting on potential towards a wall at a 100 miles an hour. ’ ‘ when i say “two more weeks,” my foot is in the door. ’ ‘ i can’t sleep in the wake of saturday. ’ ‘ i read about the afterlife, but i never really lived more than an hour. ’ ‘ i never really lived. ’

HOMESICK AT SPACE CAMP

‘ i’m grounding all my dreams. ’ ‘ tonight the headphones will deliver you the words that i can’t say. ’ ‘ tonight is all about “we miss you” ‘ ‘ i can’t forget your style or your cynicism. ’ ‘ it was like you were the first to listen. ’ ‘ my smile’s an open wound without you. ’ ‘ new friends are golden. ’

SENDING POSTCARDS FROM A PLANE CRASH (WISH YOU WERE HERE)

‘ i am such a sucker. ’ ‘ my insides are copper. i’d kill to make them gold. ’ ‘ make my bed the grave and shovel dirt onto my sheets. ’ ‘ i will sever the tie with you. ’ ‘ everything i wish for will never come true. ’ ‘ when you go, i will forget everything about you. ’ ‘ i have seen sinking ships go down with more grace than you. ’ ‘ fake it like you matter. ’ ‘ that’s a lie we both can keep. ’

CHICAGO IS SO TWO YEARS AGO

‘ my heart is on my sleeve. ’ ‘ i believed every single lie you said. ’ ‘ every pane of glass that your pebbles tap negates the pains i went through to avoid you. ’ ‘ every little pat on the shoulder for attention fails to mention i still hate you. ’ ‘ i know i should be home. ’ ‘ the colors of the street signs remind me of the pickup truck out in front of your neighbor’s house. ’ ‘ boys like you are overrated. ’ ‘ save your breath. ’ ‘ boys like you are overrated, so save your breath. ’ ‘ loaded words and loaded friends are loaded guns to our heads. ’ ‘ you want apologies? you might hold your breath until your breathing stops forever. ’ ‘ the only thing you’ll get is this curse on your lips: i hope they taste of me forever. ’ ‘ with every breath i wish your body will be broken again. ’

THE PROS AND CONS OF BREATHING

‘ bury me standing under your window with this cinder block in hand. ’ ‘ no one will ever feel like this again. ’ ‘ if i could move, i’m sure it would only be to crawl back to you. ’ ‘ i want to hate you half as much as i hate myself. ’ ‘ you know that i could crush you with my voice. ’ ‘ i don’t want to know a thing. ’ ‘ i hate the way you say my name like it’s something secret. ’ ‘ my pen is the barrel of the gun; remind me which side you should be on. ’ ‘ i wish that i was as invisible as you make me feel. ’

GRENADE JUMPER

‘ my heart ticks in beat with these kids that i grew up with, living like life’s going out of style. ’ ‘ at the end of the day, you know where i come from and where i call home. ’ ‘ you were my only friend. ’ ‘ i know this is belated, but i love you back. ’ ‘ they’ll say it’s not worth it. ’ ‘ we’ll leave this town in ruins. ’ ‘ i know you would be there either way. ’ ‘ i’m so glad it seems like these times will never fade. ’ ‘ i’ll tell everyone how much this means to me. ’

CALM BEFORE THE STORM

‘ this story’s going somewhere. ’ ‘ there’s a song on the radio that says “let’s get this party started” ‘ ‘ what you do on your own time’s just fine. ’ ‘ i just never want to know. ’ ‘ don’t say it’s over. ’ ‘ the calm before the storm set it off. ’ ‘ i’m hating that look that’s on your face that says there’s another fool like me. there’s one born every minute. ’

REINVENTING THE WHEEL TO RUN MYSELF OVER

‘ you have to prove yourself. ’ ‘ you’ll have to prove it to me. ’ ‘ now you’re waiting up for him? you’re wasting time. ’ ‘ you’re wasting time. ’ ‘ i can’t do it by myself. ’ ‘ i can’t wake up to these reminders of who i am. ’ ‘ i’m a failure at everything. ’ ‘ i’m a failure at everything, 18 going on extinct. ’ ‘ i know my place. it’s nowhere you should roam. ’

THE PATRON SAINT OF LIARS AND FAKES

‘ i’m holding out and i’m holding on to every letter and every song. ’ ‘ are you through with me? ’ ‘ when it all goes to hell, will you be able to tell me sorry with a straight face? ’ ‘ i’m all ears and i’m all scars. ’ ‘ boys like you, you try too hard to look not quite as desperate. ’ ‘ i’m hanging on. ’ ‘ i still know the way to make your makeup run. ’ ‘ take this to your grave. i’ll take it to mine. ’

[thedemisongwriter]

The Pros And Cons Of Working From Home

Although working from home can be bliss, just like any job it can have its downsides. I’ve been working from home for almost two years. It’s been great, but there are a few things I do miss when it comes to working in an office with people. In this post I’m going to share the pros of and cons of working from home. If you always wondered what it would be like to work from home, keep reading. This blog is for you.

I’ll start with pros.

1. You Can Save A Lot Of Money.

When you work from home, you’re less likely to eat out because you can eat the food you buy at home. If you’re single, this also prevents your groceries from going bad because you’ll be able to eat them. 

You also save money on gas or public transportation. When you work from home you need your car less. Depending on where you live, you might not even need your car at all! So if you’re tired of paying for high premium car insurance, sell your car! You also don’t need to take a bus or train unless you need to run errands. If you need to get somewhere quickly, there is always Lyft and Uber. 

2. You Can Prioritize Your Time Better.

Commuting to work does more than cost money and depreciate your car. It also costs time. According to an article from the NY Post, the average American spends 35 minutes on the road commuting to work.That would be about 70 minutes a day. Since I come from a major metropolitan city, commuting to and from work for me was an average of 95 minutes a day. 

Once I started working from home I was able to use that time for something else, like getting extra sleep or investing my time in hobbies or learning new skills to build my portfolio. 

3. There Is Less Stress

This depends on what you did before you started working from home and also what you do at your work from home job. Before I started working from home, I worked in retail real estate and in print centers. These two industries are so stressful because you have tight deadlines and many report lines to report to. If you have an autocratic boss it can be overwhelming most of the time. Before I started working from home, I was miserable. Add commuting to a job with reporting to an autocratic boss and tight deadlines every week felt like hell. 

Now, my job is simple. I know what to expect. The deadlines are short (when I have to grade students), but at least I know what to expect and there are no surprises.

Now I will state the drawbacks.

1. It Can Be Tiring

Depending on what you do, you may have to work odd hours in order to make money. I have a cousin who does IT work but his shift is a graveyard shift. By the time everyone is sleeping, he gets ready for work. When everyone is at work, he’s asleep while the sun shines. If I did a job like that from home, I’d be miserable. However, my cousin loves it and he makes more than $60k a year!

On the other hand, I teach English. Although I don’t work graveyard shifts, my days can feel long because I have to work during the hours that my students have the free time to attend classes. On one day I can start teaching at 7 AM and will be done at 12 PM. Then, I have a 5 hour break and return to teaching at 5 PM and won’t be done until sometimes 9 PM. I have to do this sometimes because if I set my availability as a traditional work setting (9-5) I might not get fully booked classes. By the time I’m done teaching, I am exhausted and ready to go to bed. Then I have to wake up at 6 am and start teaching all over again.

2. It Can Get Boring.

This drawback also depends on what you do in your work from home job. I teach English online. My classes are in real time. I have to be in front of a computer for hours. I teach for a school that has its own curriculum. Although they give me the freedom to expand on the lessons or even make a custom lesson plan depending on the student’s request, it can get very mundane. I don’t have any co workers to talk to who relate to this kind of life. However, there are ways to find people to talk to who relate to what you do. There are plenty of Facebook groups and my school allows online teachers to meet online and have free talk once a month. Those two things makes it nice.

Sometimes I get tempted to get a job outside but every time I think about the time spent commuting and the amount of money it will cost, it helps me to get some perspective and not complain so much on how mundane my job can be. 

3. Most Good Paying Work From Home Jobs Are For Very Specialized Skills

A lot of the good paying work from home jobs requires very high technical skills. Becoming a TEFL teacher may be the only easy way to jump-start into a remote job. However, please be advised that a lot of the online English schools do exploit teachers and give them little pay. There are ways to avoid this but it will take time to build income. You can read my other blog by clicking this link to learn how I turned my TEFL job into a lucrative career. 

With the amount of time you save working from home, you can also build your skills so that you will be more qualified to getting better paying jobs in the same field or somewhere else. 

Although there are some drawbacks to working from home, the pros outweigh them all. All it takes is patience and a positive perspective.  

I hope this info was helpful. If you’d like more content, please follow my blog and/or share with friends who may find this info useful.  

[borusawa]

Best Worst Decision

                      Valentine’s Day Event 2019

A/N: This story is dedicated to @shikastemari and @mirachaann , I love both of you <3. Marrying me has pros and a lot of cons tbh. This was intentionally made to be stupid, I hope it was funny though.

Pairings: BoruSara

Beta-reader: none (I'm sorry for the mistakes I don’t even know how I wrote this)

Warnings: It has a profound connection with the irrational fear my friends and I have.

Word count: 1,628

Her phone woke her up. In quick movements, Sarada managed to take it from the nightstand. The name screaming at the screen made her frightened. Why would her mother call so early in the morning? As soon as she answered she heard Sakura yelling on the other side of the line. Sarada never got up so fast.

“SARADA?”

At that point she was totally awakened, both from the alarm and the screaming. “MAMA I’M UP! WHAT HAPPENED?” Her words were filled with worry.

“Oh, nothing. Are you free today?” Sakura said with a gentle voice.

Sarada took a deep breath throwing her body back in the bed. “I can’t believe you woke me up to ask if I’m free today.”

“I’m sorry, dear. If I knew you were sleeping I wouldn’t call. It’s 8 AM, you usually wake up a lot earlier.” Sarada could swear she heard her father’s voice saying ‘I told you so’ in the background. “So, are you available or not?”

Sarada paused for a second. She didn’t have any plans in mind except for a date with Boruto. “Maybe training later.”

“Aren’t you going out with your boyfriend today?” Sakura said in a startled tone.

“Of course, but it’s only at night.” Sarada scratched her eyes, trying to hold back a yawn.

“I’ll be there in 1 hour, ‘kay?”

“Wait, are you free today? It’s Valentine’s Day, I thought you and papa had... plans.” Sarada said in sincere confusion.

“Oh, we have. Bye, go get ready.” And she turned off the call. It was the weirdest phone call Sarada ever had. Great way to start the day.

Since she was awake and apparently with new plans, Sarada decided to start her morning routine. Taking the glasses, shower, breakfast. When she finished it all her mother was already on the door.

Sakura appeared on time and was really excited for apparently no reason. “Good morning!”

“Where are we going?” Sarada asked while locking her apartment door and sending inquisitive looks to her mother.

“I just want to spend time with my baby. After you started to live alone we miss you. Even Sasuke is expressing that.” Sakura started to walk.

Sarada thought everything was a little suspicious to say at least. She narrowed her eyes and began to walk among her mother, noticing that the woman was a little too happy. However, it was Valentine’s Day and Sakura was always excited about these type of events so Sarada assumed she was just seeing too much into things. It was cold yet the streets were loaded with happy people, some sellers, and couples holding hands. It was a nice vibe, even for Sarada, who never cared much about this sort of thing. Boruto, on the other hand, was really into being romantic, and she never complained about this because it was always nice to know how much he cared. By then she was well-used to his surprises.

“So, how are things now that papa is definitely back home?”

Sakura giggled. “Good.”

The thought of why her mother could be so happy came back to her mind with a different answer, therefore, Sarada changed the subject as fast as humanly possible. “You didn’t tell me where we’re going, by the way.”

“We’re going to get the manicure.”

“Today?” Her incredulity was clear. “Everything is probably full, we will wait forever.”

Sakura stopped mid-pace, crossing her arms. “Do you think I’m irresponsible? Of course, I scheduled!”

Instead of simply accepting that affirmation, Sarada was even more interested in the unique situation she was in. After all, who makes plans with their daughter on Valentine’s Day? She narrowed her eyes once more, facing the pink haired woman and getting closer. “I thought it was a rushed decision.”

Sakura’s eyes widened and a scared feeling took place in her features. “I just thought that… I don’t know… Maybe you would like to have your nails done on Valentine’s Day.”

“What if I had plans?” It was Sarada’s turn to cross her arms.

Sakura seemed to relax a bit, placing her hands on her daughter’s shoulder. “But you didn’t, so stop worrying.”

Despite what Sakura said, Sarada still thought something odd was happening. Odd or not, her nails were now red.

 Sarada was ready for her date. Ready and enthusiastic. The talk with her mother earlier couldn’t leave her mind even when it ended up being just the two of them getting their nails done, it was all too suspicious for her liking. She looked at herself in the mirror for the nth time only that night. Boruto was late as always — she would never get used to that — and as soon as her phone rang she knew it was him.

“Boruto? You’re late.”

She heard him sighing. “I’m sorry, you know I love you.” Sarada rolled her eyes, waiting for the excuse. “... but I won’t make it to our date. I’m sorry.”

She couldn’t avoid feeling the anger boiling inside of her. “Are you saying you’ll leave me alone on Valentine’s Day?”

“I’m sorry, I really am. I talked to Chocho.” He stopped talking but Sarada said nothing, conscious that the only things that could leave her mouth were either curse or things she would regret later. “She said you can go to her house.”

“I won’t.” Sarada could feel the blood running in her veins.

“Please don’t spend Valentine’s Day alone.”

“What I’ll do is not of your business.” She hung up the call with no warning — and a lot of violence.

Sarada decided to go to Chocho’s house anyway, she had nothing to do and her clothes were too adorable to be wasted at home. She gathered her things and went outside. Well, she is almost. By the door, she spotted a little Valentine’s Day card outside and took it. It had a beautiful drawing of two cute cats and Sarada was a cat person, Boruto knew that. When she opened the card he got surprised by the effort he surely put in the calligraphy.

Sarada,

I would say today is a special day, but ever since we got

together every day is special for me.

                    Boruto.

And in rushed words a side note:

       It was supposed to be Chocho give you this but I don’t

       like the thought of you walking in the streets while mad at me.

Sarada giggled, wondering why he went to her house but didn’t talk to her. Nevertheless, knowing he cared was enough for a while. The streets overflowed by happy couples made her remember how she would like to be with her boyfriend — even if it wasn’t for the special date. The sky was magical, there was no moonlight but it had a lot of stars and no clouds as if it was dedicated to the lovers. As she got closer to Chocho’s house though, the streets became empty and dark, like always. When she was one block away from her destination the excess of lighting called her attention but on a weird day like the one she was having she brushed it off and kept walking absentmindedly.

Sarada turned to the street. “Oh no.” The usual dark alley was all lit by candles and decorated with red flowers. She never thought that place had such potential. It was like a daydream, even if Sarada was sure it wasn’t for her since her boyfriend just canceled their plans not long ago. She felt she was muddling into someone else’s surprise, so she started to walk to the sidewalks, getting as far as possible from the middle. She could see someone was at the end of the street, where a special altar was, with a lot more flowers and a lot more candles.

When she got closer she felt her heart skip a beat.

Boruto smiled at her sight, and she walked towards him then. If she was supposed to be honest, Sarada had no idea of what was going on, so that was the first thing she asked him. Well, she tried to ask. I didn’t quite work as she expected because her body was no longer answering to her brain — or her brain was no longer working.

“Whaaaa.. Wa-what is…” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She felt the night breeze in the face and relaxed a bit before speaking. “What is happening?” She managed to say slowly, with big pauses in between words. When she opened her eyes she saw Boruto smiling, so she smiled together. He looked inside her eyes and held her hands. It was everything beautiful, too beautiful and Sarada just knew she would cry at any moment.

“I’ve been in love with you for so long I cannot remember when it all began but I’m really happy it’s you. It was always and it always will be.” And she felt the tears starting to fall. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me and I can’t wait to be by your side forever.”

He went down on one knee. “No…” Sarada said in disbelief.

Boruto’s heart sank. “What?”

“NO! I MEAN, YES! I MEAN…” She sighed. “Just keep going.” He narrowed his blue eyes at her, and she smiled through the tears.  

“Sarada, will you…”

She couldn’t wait any longer to finally be sure she would be by his side. “YES!”

“... wait for me to finish?” They chuckled. Boruto was still excessively nervous to do something besides remembering his next steps (breathing? Check. Finishing the sentence? Ops.).  “Will you marry me?”

“Can I say yes now?” Sarada joked, a bit more comfortable despite still crying.

When he placed the delicate ring on her finger, Sarada was happy she had her nails done.

A/N: Yes, we are afraid of being proposed while having ugly nails.

[imnotasuperhero]

@mitchsentrash requested Sunday - Mitchsen, so here I am pleasing..

Since I need to get back in shape for the upcoming dedicated weeks (also bc I’m dying from reality working two jobs), feel free to

send me a word/AU and a pairing

Title: You’ll be so high (you’ll be flying)

Chapters: 1/?

Wordcount: 1038

Summary: 

 "Though the sea will be strong I know we'll carry on Cause if there's somebody calling me on She's the one..."

Read on Ao3

“But Beca, are you sure of this?” Beca would never get rid of the need to kiss Aubrey’s frown. Not that she would do it, though.

Stopping what she was doing, Beca faced her. “Listen, Blondie. I got back from my night’s shift less than an hour ago and I find you in your workout clothes cleaning the storm those misfit bitches did. Where’s my Sergeant Posen? You’ve got so softie in the last year.”

“Watch it, Beca,” Aubrey arched one of her sculpted eyebrows at the brunette’s words. How dare she? “It’s easier and faster than trying to wake them up and put them to clean. On a Sunday. After a party.”

“I’m pretty sure you enjoyed the party and here you are, ready to start your work out at 7 am. On a Sunday.” Beca was now leaning against the wall smirking at the goddess blonde in front of them.

“Point taken,” Aubrey had to agree with Beca’s reasoning. “But it’s on you if one of them dies from a coronary.”

Beca’s laugh was something Aubrey missed the most while she was away in NY, so she didn’t bother in hiding her crooked smile at the sound.

“Don’t you worry, Blondie. I’ll be responsible for any possible damage,” Beca winked at her and got back to the task at hand.

Aubrey couldn’t help but brace herself for the possible outcomes this plan could have. Sometimes she wondered if Beca was a genius or just a simple midget who enjoyed making people suffer. Probably both.

“Alright, it’s settled.” Beca walked to her laptop and fidgeted with something before turning to face her. “Would you do the honors?” Aubrey asked herself how could she feel mushy when Beca’s mischievous grin was plastered on her face.

“Dear Lord, please look out for us,” she whispered before starting to count backward.

Just as she reached to one, a deafening melody started playing through the Bellas’ sound system and it was a matter of seconds for noises to be heard from the second floor. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

“I did,” Beca’s grin was glorious. “It worked, didn’t it?” Beca laughed loudly as she got started on breakfast. “You know the beasts are coming back to their senses, right? Come help me.”

Before Aubrey could say something, footsteps announced their time was running.

“What the hell? I almost broke my head, you bitches.” Stacie grunted as she appeared in the kitchen.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Legs. You earned it for leaving a mess around the house before going to kill that hangover of yours,” Beca didn’t bother to look at her. Mostly because if she did so, she’d get injured.

“Ow, guys. What’s all this noise about?” Chloe plopped down in one of the stalls. “And could you please turn it down?”

“Won’t do,” Beca shock her head. “Not until you, little savages, clean the house.”

Once all the Bellas -minus Fat Amy- where up, Beca felt proud of her decision to make use of technology.

“I thought Aubrey was the top,” Stacie raised her eyebrow.

“We’re both versatile. Now go-“

“Oh my god, Beca. Stop encouraging them,” Aubrey felt herself turn red as a tomato. It wasn’t a secret they both had something going on, but they didn’t have the talk yet.

“Whatever,” Beca shrugged the topic off. “Go fix the mess or you aren’t getting waffles.”

Aubrey didn’t know she was lost staring at Beca until the brunette spoke up.

“Did I grow a second head?” It was so casual yet, Aubrey could tell something deeper was being asked.

“How are you so calm about them talking about us?”

“Because I am calm, Aubrey. I don’t care what others say and I can assure you almost half the group isn’t even straight,” Beca replied without taking her focus off the waffles she had just started. “And I know we have a lot to talk and sort out, but I told you I wouldn’t pressure you.”

Those words alone were enough to shut her up and start to –again- get lost in all the pros and cons being in a relationship with Beca had. But even if the cons outweighed the pros, she would be lying to herself if she didn’t want the tornado Beca was in her life.

She was about to speak but decided to bit her tongue and start helping with breakfast.

“We’re done. Now give us food,” Stacie took a piece of bacon off the plate. “And kill off the sexual tension once and for all, please.”

“Shut up Stacie, they’ll leave us without breakfast,” Jessica smacked her head.

“Fuck off,” Beca placed the plate of waffles on the table before getting hers and walking away. “Don’t bother me unless the house is on fire.”

“Rest well, Becs,” Chloe chirped through a mouthful.

The entire way back home was filled with Beca in her mind. Aubrey thought if being fucked up was like this. She’s never been so caught up in someone like she was about Beca. Even the biggest flaw about the brunette was enough to make her want to run back to the Bellas’ house and get herself surrounded by her presence.

“Bree, can we talk?” Chloe walked up to her as soon as she entered the house.

“I thought you’d be sleeping like the girls,”

“I tried, but I gave up,” the redhead shrugged. “So, when will you guys talk?”

“A little forward, aren’t we?” Aubrey couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the eagerness of her best friend.  

“Oh, come on. We both know she’s up to try it. Why can’t you let fall?”

“What if we don’t work and we end up hating each other? God knows the fights we had to endure before we got to be civil with each other.”

“But what if you do work out? You have no idea how much Beca can care about someone.”

“You do know you guys dated already, right? I can’t-“

“Excuses,” Chloe rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Seriously, Bree. Talk to her before it’s late.” Chloe kissed her forehead. “But get a shower first. You’re smelly.”

“Come say that to my face, you bitch.” Chloe just laughed as she walked away.