#took like 15 minutes to get her to stay together without glue

[alchemiclee]

3d printed a bailu :3 next step is paint her

[heroes-feasting]

Heartlands Rose Apple and Blackberry Pie

“As the story goes, a hungry halfling returned from her hillside stroll with a heavy basket of crisp rose apples and plump blackberries. In typical indecisive halfling fashion, she couldn’t decide which to fill her pie with… so she chose both, and thus this legendary dessert was born.” - Heroes’ Feast, p. 139

As mentioned in a previous post, pie, the better version of cake, can take on many forms. With fall having wrapped up and given way to winter, it’s time to start scheduling Christmas parties and spending time with each other during the Holidays. So, why not dazzle partygoers by bringing in a slice (pun intended) of autumn with this apple and blackberry pie from Heroes’ Feast!

Although the original recipe is a little rough in construction, after some discussion for suggested changes, it holds together amazingly and makes sure that each bite, from the sweetness of the apples to the tartness of the blackberries, is worth the effort. This pie is also super great because it’s not overly sugary like most you’ll find at the store; using just enough while allowing the fruitiness of the filling to shine!

In this post, I’ll be breaking down the steps that were taken, for filling and crust, that help ensure that you end up with a stable pie instead of pie soup. In a rush? No worries, all changes are also summarized in the results section.

See below for my notes on the results and for some helpful tips and tricks when making this yourself! Get Heroes’ Feast here: https://dnd.wizards.com/heroes-feast

Prep: 15 mins*               Cook: 5 hours**               Overall: 5 hours 15 mins

* Can take longer if making your own crust.

** Can vary based on your experience making pie, this is the high-end estimate with plenty of leeway time. To save time on the day of, make the apples and pie crust a day ahead and store them in the fridge. If not possible, try to make the pie crust a day ahead and cook the apples while the crust chills in the fridge in the pie plate (see recipe steps).

Ingredients*:

⅔ cup + 1 tbsp. (155 g) sugar

½ tsp. (3 g) cinnamon

3 tbsp. + 2 tsp. (23 g + 5 g) cornstarch**

kosher salt

3 ½ pounds (1,575 g) [about 6] baking apples, peeled, quartered, cored, and cut lengthwise into ¼-inch slices***

Pastry for 2 double-crust pies

12 ounces (340 g) blackberries, rinsed

1 tbsp. (5 ml) fresh lemon juice

1 ½ tbsp. (21 g) unsalted butter, cut into pieces

1 egg

Lightly sweetened whipped cream for serving (optional)

* Makes one 9-inch deep-dish pie. Here’s the pie dish I use.

** Because there’s a lot of liquid in the filling, I took A Finnicky Guide’s suggestion and added a little more cornstarch. I split the extra 2 tsps. (5 g) between the apples and blackberries.

*** For pies, you need to be careful with the apples you select. When choosing your apples, especially for a liquidy pie, it’s important to consider the amount of pectin (a natural “glue”) present in the apple. For the reasons listed in the linked article, I chose Granny Smith apples instead of those listed in Heroes’ Feast.

The first change to make is with how the apple filling is prepared. Cooking the apples on the stove, instead of in the microwave, will allow the juices released from the apples to have a caramel-like consistency instead of staying super watery. I adapted the method from King Arthur.

First, in a large pot, whisk together 1⁄3 cup of the sugar, the cinnamon, 1 tbsp. + 1 tsp. cornstarch, and ¼ tsp. salt. Add the apples and gently mix to combine.

Turn the heat to medium-low and allow the apples to warm up, about 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Then, allow them to cook for an additional 10 minutes, stirring occasionally (top-left picture).

You’ll know they’re done when you can bend the slices without them breaking (top-right).

TIP: To get the apples all to a uniform size, I recommend using an apple corer. Here’s the one I use.

The second change to construction is with the pie crust. In order to prevent the liquid in the pie from infusing with the uncooked dough and turning it mushy, we’re going to firm up the bottom crust by blind-baking (partially cooking) it before adding the filling. To blind-bake, I’ve condensed the method from Sally’s Baking Addiction.

On a floured work surface, roll out the pie dough into a 12-inch (~30 cm) circle. Transfer it to a deep-dish pie plate and fit it in gently by lifting the edges of the dough as you gently press it into the bottom and sides of the pie dish. Leave ~1-inch overhang around the rim and trim the extra (picture 1) ). Do not dock (prick holes in) the bottom crust yet. Set it in the fridge to chill for 30 mins. Preheat the oven to 375℉ (190℃).

Next, crinkle up a piece of parchment paper large enough to cover the pie dough. Place it in the baking dish and weigh it down using ceramic pie beads, dried lentils, or dried beans. I used pinto beans. This will allow the crust to cook without bubbling at the bottom or shrinking too much away from the edges (picture 2) ).

Place the pie plate onto a baking sheet and put it in the preheated oven to cook for 15-16 minutes. Take it out and carefully remove the parchment paper with the weights. Dock the bottom crust with a fork and return it to the preheated oven, without the weights, until the crust begins to turn a golden brown, another 7-8 minutes. Remove again from oven and set aside (picture 3) ). Preheat the oven again - this time to 425℉ (218℃).

TIP: You can reuse your blind-baked beans/lentils for future pies! So feel free to store them in their own labeled container for use at another time.

While the bottom crust chills, whisk together ⅓ cup of the sugar, the remaining cornstarch, and a pinch of salt in a medium-sized bowl.

Add the blackberries and gently toss to coat. Then, add the lemon juice and gently fold until the sugar mixture is moistened and syrupy.

Since the blackberries will release their juice as they break down, to reduce the liquid content, remove 1 tbsp. of the syrup and discard.

For attaching the top crust to the partially-baked bottom crust, I followed Food52’s method.

To assemble the pie, start by spreading the blackberry mixture evenly over the bottom crust and scatter the butter pieces overtop (picture 1) ).

Strain the apples through a colander, catching the liquid in a bowl, and spoon them on top of the blackberries. Pour half of the reserved apple syrup over the apples (picture 2) - I added the apple syrup, I just took the picture too soon rip)

On a floured work surface, roll out dough into a 12-inch (~30 cm) circle and place it over the apple mixture. To seal the edges, start by folding the top crust under the overhanging bottom crust as much as possible without breaking the bottom crust. Then, use a fork to crimp the top and bottom layers together (picture 3) ).

Beat the egg with 1 tbsp. water and brush it over the top of the pie crust - including the edges. Sprinkle the remaining 1 tbsp. sugar evenly over the top. Place the pie into the oven preheated to 425℉ (218℃) (picture 4) ).

Bake the pie at 425℉ (218℃) until the top is light golden brown, about 25 minutes. Then adjust the heat to 375℉ (190℃), rotate the baking sheet 180 degrees, and continue baking until the crust is golden brown 25 to 30 minutes.

NOTE: I found my crust turned golden brown after 25 mins at 425℉ (218℃). I still adjusted the heat to 375℉ (190℃) and let it cook for the remaining time. However, I kept an eye on it to make sure it didn’t burn (it didn’t).

Remove pie from oven and baking sheet and allow to cool to room temperature on a wire rack, about 2 hours.

From the pictures above, you can see how changing up the steps in the construction helped with the structural integrity of the pie:

Using extra cornstarch allowed both fillings to thicken more while cooking, helping to create a distinct layer for the blackberry mixture (top-right);

Using Granny Smith apples allowed for the extra pectin in the apples to thicken the liquid on the stove and keep additional juices trapped inside the slices as they baked in the oven (also keeping the apples from drying out in the oven);

Cooking the apples on the stove gave the apple syrup a more caramel-consistency instead of staying watery;

Not only did blind-baking the bottom crust keep the vast majority of the liquid inside the pie as it cooked (top-left), but having an extra-crispy bottom crust allowed any pie kept as leftovers to have a distinct bottom crust instead of it becoming soggy;

Removing a little bit of the syrup from the blackberry mixture allowed the blackberry syrup to become less soupy and thicken into its own distinct layer (top-right).

Tl;dr: to recap what improved the construction of the pie:

Use a little extra cornstarch. Not much, just an extra tsp. (3 g) per filling will do.

Choose the right apples for the job. You want to make sure the ones you choose have enough pectin to keep in most of their juices. Solution: use Granny Smith.

Cook the apples on the stovetop. Using the stovetop allows for the juices released from the apples to have a caramel consistency instead of staying watery.

Blind bake the bottom crust. To keep the liquids from infusing with the bottom crust, partially bake the bottom crust using the listed method.

Remove 1 tbsp. of liquid from the blackberries. They have plenty of liquids to start and will produce more when they start to break down.

Overall, I would give this pie a 5/5 after the modifications to construction. The sweetness from the apples and the tartness from the blackberries really work to bring this together in the best way.

As mentioned in the intro, I really appreciate the fact that there is very little sugar added. Not only does it let the filling stand out on it’s own, but it also makes the pie enjoyable to those who don’t have as much of a sweet tooth.

[bang-to-the-tan]

Moth to Flame

Chapter 15

Reader x OT7

► Vampire!AU

Smut/Porn With Some Plot That is Rapidly Getting Out of Hand Dear God Why Please Help Me

Warnings: Fucking Politics and Complicated Morality, Stockholm Syndrome, Addiction, Possessiveness, Vampires (Biting, Blood-Sucking, Reference to Death), Language

↳ Summary: Robbed of your memories and intended as a birthday present for a deadly creature of the night, you unwittingly become the center of a territorial dispute between two covens of vampires. Tensions are rising and the brothers are getting hungry…

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“Jesus fucking Christ,” Namjoon mutters. You throw him an anxious look. He’s perched on the other side of the sofa, his phone in one hand, his chin in the other, brows knitted together, face illuminated by the glare of his screen. 

“Fuck,” he adds under his breath. 

“Are you gonna share with those of us without phones or what?” you snap. His eyes flit to yours and you amend, hasty. “Look, I’m just as surprised as you guys. I told you I don’t remember.” 

“I don’t expect you to remember.”

“Really?” 

He goes silent, completely still but for his eyes that track over you just as long as the quiet lasts before darting back to the device in his hand. 

“It’s just surprising. You really don’t remember any of this?...”

“Tell me what ‘this’ is, Namjoon.” You urge, shifting uncomfortably. “You’re making me nervous.” 

“It isn’t good.” 

“I gathered that.” 

“Namjoon,” Hoseok speaks up suddenly, from his position leaning across the bar. He has that expression again—serious, down to earth. A glimpse of that person he was talking about, maybe. Someone who can afford to be morally upstanding. “You’re being unfair.” 

The blond cocks his head, and you can follow the path of his tongue across the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing at his phone in thought. You’re just about to start trying to form a better argument when he speaks back up. 

“‘Bystanders were horrified today,” he begins, intoning as he reads, “When the peaceful protest of law enforcement procedures with regards to the recent discovery and subsequent attempted integration of so-called ‘vampires’ was interrupted by an as-of-yet unidentified woman driving through the crowd, hitting and killing key figure Bang Si-Hyuk.’” 

Namjoon heaves an exasperated sigh, lowering his head and carding his fingers through his hair like he has half a mind to rip it out by the roots. “A fucking hit and run. Of a public figure. In broad daylight.”

“I didn’t understand most of that, what does that mean?” You sit up, trying not to show on your face how your lower body complains when you jolt too quickly. 

“She started the riots??” Hoseok asks, meeting your glance across the room.

“There were already riots. But her little incident kicked off the ones closest to us, yeah.” 

“Riots for what?” 

“Us. Riots about us. People started noticing us, and they didn’t like what they saw,” Namjoon finally turns his gaze to meet yours directly. There’s no fondness in his eyes. No softness. He looks at you like you’re an animal. Like he isn’t sure whether he even wants to spare the money to have you put down. It claws a hole in your chest, and you have to look away, fighting the rising disappointment and panic inside of you. “But I bet you know that better than any of us.” 

“Bang Si-Hyuk,” Hoseok echoes. “That’s the guy that was trying to push for integration.”

“That’s the one. He was speaking out about the police force when she hit him.”

“What a time for an accident like that.”

“Yeah. Accident.” 

You shuffle closer to yourself, working on remembering to breathe, fixating on the remote sitting on the coffee table. The way the numbers have half rubbed off, the rubbery texture of the buttons reflecting the light. A hit and run? You...you killed someone?... “I don’t remember any of that. I don’t—I wouldn’t do that.”

“No? Not to try and get rid of bloodsuckers like us?” His tone is poison.

“Namjoon, I’m not—” you start, petrified, but you’re interrupted by the front door. From here, you can see Yoongi slinking through the doorway, closing the door slowly behind him. Your heart sinks when you realize you can see his hands shaking as he pulls the lock into place and hesitates for a moment, bracing himself against the door as if gathering what little strength he has.   

“Yoongi?” Hoseok immediately perks up, lips curling downwards with worry. “That you?”

“...Yeah. It me,” Yoongi finally replies, staggering faintly, trailing from the front door to the archway of the hall to the right, within full view of all three of you. He doesn’t seem any better than when he left this morning. In fact, he’s refusing to look directly at you, but now that you can see his face, you can see how dark the circles under his eyes are growing. How sharp his cheekbones have become, casting dark shadows across a drawn face. He rubs at his eye with the heel of his palm absently, taking short breaths, trying not to breathe you in too much. 

“No luck, huh?” 

“No. None.” He sounds choked, frustrated. “Nothing.” His tongue flits out to wet his lips and retreats with a swallow that you can hear for how dry it is. Your own throat twitches in sympathy, briefly imagining how badly it must be hurting him. Not for the first time, you think of how you could help him. You could help him. You think of his teeth. His tongue. You cut that entire train of thought loose when you spot him shifting his weight to the other foot, swaying. Who knows how sensitive he must be to changes in your scent. You can’t just let your mind wander like that. There’s more important things happening right now than your alarmingly weird, persistent fantasies.

“I’m not surprised. You see the news?”

“No.” 

“Remember when that spokesperson for vampire rights was killed a couple weeks ago?”

Yoongi’s brows crease as he fights past his fog to recall. “Bang Si-Hyuk. Yeah.”

“Guess who was driving the car.”

“News said it was extremists. Some crazy bitch looking to start a war. Why?”

Namjoon snorts, deadpan. “It isn’t nice to talk about people like that when they’re around.” 

It takes a full minute for the complete concept to circle around Yoongi’s head and arise victorious in his mind. He cocks his neck, looking at you briefly with his brows furrowed, but turning away just as fast. The feral hunger hiding within his eyes burns a swathe across your skin and you can feel it raising goosebumps in its wake. “What? No way.” 

“Yeah. Some kids snapped a picture of Namjoon to gush over how bangable he is, caught her in the corner, and a well-meaning adult somewhere took it to the news. Not at large, not anymore.”

“Namjoon? That’ll lead them here.” Yoongi frowns. “That’ll take them straight to us. What about Jin? Jin—”

“Jin’s doing his job,” Namjoon interrupts, quiet. “Protecting his coven. It’s not his fault. He gets paid to read the letters on the fucking page. It’s not like he has a choice.”

“Jin’s in trouble if this gets out of hand,” Hoseok adds. “Jungkook’s connections aren’t going to do anything if they start looking inside the force again.” 

“Jungkook’s a whole other kettle of fish. Jin can manage his own coven. We need to worry about our next move.”

Yoongi blinks, slow, moving to lean against the doorframe like he can barely hold his own weight up, hands moving to his arms absently, fingers digging into the fabric of his jacket. “We can’t stay.” 

“I can lay low for a while—”

“Hope’s class has seen you. They know he rooms with you. I’d bet he’s talked about you.” 

Hoseok licks his lips, casting his eyes to the bar beneath him with a nod of his head. “...He’s right. I have.”

“People have seen us out together. All of us. We’ve been here too long already.”

“We can’t—”

“Namjoon.” Yoongi’s voice cracks, turning hoarse, like he isn’t used to talking so much for so long. “We can’t stay.” 

“There’s nowhere to go. There isn’t anywhere else we can go.”

“...There’s always been somewhere.” Hoseok reaches long fingers out to brush the lumpy bowl set beside him, running his forefinger across one of the more prominent cracks, his expression distant. After a second, he leaves it alone, propping his elbows back up on the counter and looking out at his roommates with an absent sniff.

Joon ducks his head with a scoff, dropping his phone into the cushions dramatically and putting his face in his hands, clutching at the blonde strands of hair craning over his forehead. “Out of the question.”

“It’s been long enough.” Hoseok’s tone goes soft. “It’s been long enough. You made your point.”

“My point?” Namjoon sits up, tearing his hands away from himself to throw himself backwards, sending a look of disbelief in his direction. “My point?? This wasn’t a pissing contest, Hoseok. This wasn’t some...some schoolyard bitchfest. We had to leave.”

“And now we have to go back.” 

“...What about her? What do we do with her?” 

The pause that follows is pregnant. Heavy, and so thick it’s difficult to breathe through it. You turn away, but you can feel them looking at you. It feels awful, like you’re made of glue, catching their stares like overused fly paper hanging from the ceiling. You feel thin. See-through.

“What about you?” Namjoon asks, low. “What do we do with you?”

“...I don’t know,” you mumble.  

“We could turn her loose,” Hoseok suggests. “Let the cops have her.”

“No.” Yoongi’s too quick with his reply and hastily explains, “We’ve been having problems catching anything to eat anyways. It’s only gonna get worse in this climate. We have to keep her.” 

“You want to keep her around? She’s a threat. She puts all of us in danger.” Namjoon frowns.

You shift, frowning. “Like you’re any better.”

“I don’t pretend to be.” 

“Bullshit. That’s bullshit.”

“I’m not the one trying to start wars.”

“I never tried to start any fucking wars.”

“I thought you said you didn’t remember.”

“I don’t remember.” 

You’ve had enough. You move to stand, sucking in a sharp breath when your body aches in protest, but by god, you aren’t going to sit here on this couch while a household full of vampires judges you for something you honestly can’t recall. You sway a little as you dismount, reaching to grab a handful of the cushion up the back as you skirt around the side. 

“I’m going to take a nap.” You say, venom snaking past your teeth, keeping your sight trained on the floor in front of you. “Let me know if you’re planning on giving me to the police or if you’re going to continue holding me hostage, since apparently I have no choice in the matter.”

Neither Namjoon nor Hoseok move as you walk towards the hall, but neither does Yoongi, and as you approach him, you’re made too aware of how still he’s gone. You look up from the ground, but he’s not looking at you, choosing instead to study the wood of the doorframe to his right. 

“What do you want?” Hoseok says after a beat, low, quiet. You crane to meet his eyes. “What do you want to do?” 

“Does it matter?”

“It will.” 

“I want to take a nap.” 

“You could run. It’s a small town. Head south, move somewhere they wouldn’t find you.”

You hesitate. It’s been so long that you haven’t considered the idea of escape that the feel of it now is like the shadow of someone you used to know. Running. Getting out of here. Not fought for, but offered this time. It feels wrong, but it's impossible to place why. You shake your head faintly, speaking up again with a bitter scoff. “That’ll go well.” 

“You know what haze feels like.” You can hear Yoongi swallow in front of you as Hoseok speaks, the sound harsh and unkind. “You can look out for yourself.” 

“Can I?” 

“The option is there. If you wanted it. You have a choice.” 

“...A choice. Yeah. Sure.” 

“Don’t promise things you can’t guarantee, Hope.” Namjoon bites quietly.

“I will guarantee it.”

“What’s with the sudden change of heart, huh? What, you’re suddenly the CEO of free will?”

“I said from the start that we shouldn’t have kept her. Now everybody’s getting attached, just like I said they would, and the longer we keep her, the worse it’s going to get. Especially if we move back to Jin’s. Bringing her with puts everyone in danger, if all she’s gonna do is run off and bring attention to us. We can’t risk it with all of us in the same place.”

“Who said we’re moving back.”

Hoseok continues, ignoring his sour quip. “If she wants to leave, we’ll find something else. We’ve survived before, we’ll do it again. If she wants to leave. You’ll let her go, won’t you, Joon? Since you’re not too attached to a ‘threat’?”

Silence.

You turn back around, but freeze in place when you realize Yoongi’s looking at you now, dark eyes empty and half-lidded. He looks like a statue as he stares you down, following your every movement. A figure carved from marble to depict the downfall of man. No, not a man. An angel, cast from heaven in disgrace, wreathed in ash. He’s stopped breathing. You only just barely realize that you have, too.

“I’ll think about it.” You murmur, trying to pick up your previous train of thought, reminding yourself to inhale. “Running. Figuratively. Right now, I want a nap.” 

“Think about it.” Hoseok echoes quietly from behind you. “We’ll let you know when we’re moving.”

“If we’re moving,” Namjoon clarifies, low, but there’s no force in his words. No authority. 

You have to sidle past Yoongi to get to the other room. He doesn’t take the hint. Doesn’t move. You aren’t sure what spurs you forward more insistently; defiance, in the face of whatever stoic act he’s playing at, or anticipation. Anticipation of what he might do if you get too close. 

You misjudge how in-control he is and as you step forward, your shoulder nearly brushing his in the narrow entrance, he shifts. You can feel, more than see, his head inclining, his hair tickling your neck as he leans, the subtle noise of his lips parting, mouth opening, quietly inhaling with a hiss of air, and in that moment you freeze. Your heart pounds, blood racing through your veins, your own head drifting to the side as he approaches, time slowing to a crawl. 

You can feel it. The answer to your desires, the satiation that you need, that you crave, sharp teeth, perfect bliss, pain and pleasure, carving your limbs hollow and filling them back up with stardust. Your eyes threaten to close, lashes fluttering against your cheek. His hot breath, labored, casts against the column of your neck.

“Yoongi.” Namjoon speaks up, and Yoongi jerks forward as if released from a spell, suddenly dashing forward with long strides. You blink, turning to watch him slip down through the front hall, the click of the spare room door and the slam of it as he pulls it shut behind himself. 

You’re left spinning alone, on top of a world that whirls beneath your feet so fast you can’t think properly. 

“I don’t know what we’re going to do about him, though,” Namjoon says, murmuring low. “He doesn’t have much longer.”

“Yeah.” Hoseok agrees. “Either way, we need to make a decision fast.” 

You blink, spinning on your heel and walking at your own swift pace towards the bedroom. You make sure the door is closed behind you, promising a fight if anyone waltzes in uninvited. The bed creaks a little when you throw yourself onto it, ignoring by force the way it smells like Namjoon, like comfort. You don’t like him right now. You pretend that you don’t inhale deeply, fighting back hot, upset tears. 

He has no fucking right to judge you.

You’re a threat? You don’t feel like it, no matter what Jin recites to a camera crew somewhere the next town over.

For a while, you try to use the quiet to your advantage. Thinking-wise. Mulling over your choices. Going on the lamb? The run from the law, of all things? For a crime you don’t remember doing and can’t even...you can’t stomach doing that. Running over someone protesting people’s rights? Does that mean you hated vampires, before? You’re again left wondering what kind of person you used to be. 

And besides which...something in you twinges when you think of leaving. Some itch left unscratched. Some high you’re craving.

You rub absently at your neck as you think, frowning. 

 If you left, there wouldn’t be any more hazing. No more biting. Well, there’s other vampires, at least. If you really needed it....wanted it…

Ah, but who says they’d be as nice to you? 

‘Some of them really like pain’. You recall what Jimin had said when he caught you trying to sneak out of Jin’s window. Before Jungkook found you. Before they touched you. Took your clothes off and slid inside of you, pressed their lips to your chest and—

You’re losing the plot. You are going certifiably insane. Your legs twitch closed of their own volition, as if you could hide the way your cunt pulses around nothing from yourself.  

If you ran, would you end up seeking more out? Or, a better question, could you manage a life without biting? Without haze? The immediate panic, despair, that sinks briefly into your chest even at the thought, is too convincing. Like an addict. 

...Are you addicted? No. No, that’s silly. You’ve been without haze since... well, yesterday was…

You frown at the ceiling. 

Your migraine. Sharp, painful; like driving shards of glass into your eye sockets. Irritable. Looking for your next fix. Wishing you were ‘high’. Thinking about it, constantly. 

Your fingers are tightening around your throat and it isn’t until your vision starts going a little fuzzy that you realize you’re pressing too hard. Are you...choking yourself out? No, that’s not right. 

But instead of snatching your hand away completely, you linger, hooking your nails into the scabs at your neck. They’re mostly healed, but you can still feel a flicker of the pleasure they used to bring. The memory of Yoongi, just now, leaning closer, flashes across your mind, ghostly impressions of his breath against your skin, his hair tickling your jaw. He could have taken it further. He could have taken you further. If Namjoon hadn’t said anything. If Namjoon hadn’t been there. If he’d pressed you against that doorway, pinned you with those wide hands of his, kissed you. Kissed your neck. And…

You recall the feeling of fangs piercing your flesh, but it’s faded now. Disappointment courses through you. Longing. 

Fuck. 

So, now, you aren’t just a murderer with a political agenda. 

You’re definitely an addict. 

This sucks. 

...You wish you were hazed. 

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[grapecinnamon]

Two Gay Dogs: A Ruff Ruffman Story | Chapter 6: Valentines and Voicemails

"Blossom, you're not going to believe it!" Ruff exclaimed as he walked into the dog house. "Guess what? I asked out Mason, and he said yes!"

"That's awesome! Did you use a card?"

"No, I'm saving that for Valentine's Day in a few days. We're going to make plans for our date later on. Ooh! I hope we can go to the Chinese place!" Chet then came in with a wagon full of wooden crates.

"Ah, Chet. I see you got me my supplies in these boxes." He looked in one of the boxes, only to find it empty. "Uh, okay?" Then he looked in another, only to find nothing again. Then he opened another. And another. And another until he realized that Chet was being Chet.

"Chet, are you kidding me!? I said crafting materials, not crating materials! Craft isn't even close to crate! What am I going to do?" He sighed and put his paws on his face, but then he remembered three important people.

"Wait? Alma, Chester, and Lance can help me out. I just hope none of them tell Mason."

~

The first dog he visited was lance, the crafty black-lab. He knocked on the door, and entered at the sound of a voice saying, "It's open!" He walked into the living room to see the black lab playing a video game on the switch. It was an 8-bit game where the lab seemed to be controlling a small, red heart, and was avoiding the attacks of a tall goat-like king. Ruff didn't know what this game was, but he seemed to connect with the king for some reason. A fireball hit the heart and it broke into a million pieces.

"Aw, I died again!" He threw the controller next to him on the couch and looked behind to see the orange mutt.

"Oh, hey Ruff. What are you doing here?"

"I need your help making a card for Mason."

"Ooh? For Mason? For Valentine's Day?" Ruff nodded. "Yeah, I heard from Mason about you asking them out. Congratulations, Dude!" He playfully pushed Ruff on the shoulder and Ruff playfully pushed him back. But he pushed him so hard, the labrador fell backwards and onto a table full of trash and crafting stuff.

"Oh, sorry about that."

"That's alright. I was looking for that glue bottle anyway." He nonchalantly held up his elbow, which had a white, glue bottle stuck to it. "So, dude, what do you want?"

"I need a big, red card for Mason. It needs to be in the shape of a heart, lined with pink lace, and big enough to fit about twenty dog treats inside. I think Mason said they liked green-apple treats."

"Alright, I can do that. That'll be $30, please." Ruff was caught off guard, as the dog held out his paw for the upfront payment. He looked around and saw a sign on the table that said $15/ flat card | $30/ 3-D card. Ruff didn't have 30 dollars. He didn't even have enough for a flat card. He already gave Chet the $20 for those crates, leaving him with $10. He was about to call off the commission and getting a cheep card at a store, but he knew he couldn't settle. No, no, Mason Jaye deserved something with a heart and soul poured into it.

"Okay, I only have $10. Is there anything I can get for that?"

"No, but I'll make a deal with you. I have this thing where if my clients can make their ideal card themselves, they can get it for $5, but since you're my friend, and Mason really likes you, I'll let you do it for free."

"Lance, you got yourself one heck of a deal!" Ruff sat at the crafting table and got to work at the card. It took him about 30 minutes to get it done, but once finished... it looked like absolute garbage.

Ruff tried his best, but the card looked horrible; the heart looked more like a brain, especially since the lace was glued on lopsided, and there wasn't enough space for the treats. Lance looked at it and cringed. He didn't want to hurt Ruff's feelings, but...

"I can't let you give this to Mason. This looks horrible. Look, I'll just do it for you, okay?" Lance then got to work and created Ruff's idea card in perfect detail. It even put the treats inside. Ruff looked inside to get a good look at them; they were green and in the shape of apples. Ruff wanted one so badly, but these were for his enbyfriend, not him. The box had a message engraved on it in cursive; it read To Mason: The Love of my Life. Ruff didn't exactly request that message, but

~

Up next was Chester. He arrived at his house to seem him and Alma hanging out in the backyard.

"Hey, Ruff," Chester said, as he dug a hole with his paws.

"Hi, Ruff," Alma said, waving. "Good to see you. What are you doing here?"

"I came by to ask if Chester could help me write a poem to Mason."

"Oh, yeah," Alma said. "You asked xer out the other day, right?"

"Yeah, and Lance helped me make this heart box filled with treats. I thought this would be enough, but now I feel like it needs something else. Could you help me write a love poem?"

"Sure." Chester and Alma lead the orange dog into the house to a desk that had writing material and a quill dipped in a glass jar of ink.

"Do you know anything about writing poetry?"

"Of course. Hold on, I think I have some poems for my ex crush right here." He pulled out the poems addressed to Charlene and showed them to the dalmatian. Wow, never thought I'd be calling Charlene my ex. The orange dog thought. It's kind of exhilarating. The poem read as follows:

Charlene

My Washing Machine

Is Green

And Keen

The dalmatian and the schnauzer looked up at the prideful orange dog, realizing they had a lot of work to do.

After a while, bouncing back and forth from one another with ideas, they finally finished the new and improved poem, which read as:

Paws that hold mine perfectly, like they were crafted for each other.

Arms that embrace me tightly with never-ending comfort.

Ribs that touch mine when you lay on top of me.

Tails that wag in unison as we share each other's love.

Ojos that look into mine, not wanting to focus on anything else.

Fingers that touch my soul like no one else has.

Minds that think alike, and spend all their time thinking of each other.

Everything about you is perfect. I'll never meet anyone else like you for as long as I live.

The poem was perfect, and it was nothing like what Ruff would actually write. Which was why Ruff thought it was perfect. He blushed brightly as he reread certain lines. He could barely have Mason's arm around him without going nuts. Just the thought of Mason laying on top of him... Ruff, get a hold of yourself. He thought. Mason probably doesn't think about you like that yet. I think.

Chester took the poem and folded it into fourths, as he put it inside the heart.

"It's missing something," Alma said. "I think what would really put it all together is a bouquet of roses."

"Ah, good idea," Ruff said.

"I can't give them to you today because they could die by then. But for now, what colors do you want the roses to be? I have every color you can think of in roses."

"Well, how about we use roses in the colors of the pan and enby flag."

"That sounds great. Do you want me to add the colors of the gay flag as well?"

"Actually, I don't think I..." Ruff thought about how he had been crushing on Charlene for a while, but then he remembered, she's a thing of the past. He never felt the things with her that he felt for Mason. But maybe he just has a preference?

"...I'm fine with that."

"Great!"

~

It was Valentine's Day. Couples all over the city were showing each other their love in their own special ways. Ruff and Mason would've met each other today at the arcade (another favorite of Mason's despite being made fun of for that due to their age) around 12:00 p.m. but just when Ruff was about to walk out the door with his gifts, he got a text message:

Mason: Hey, sorry, but I don't think I'm ready for a relationship. I think we should cancel that date.

Just when his heart was mended, it gets broken all over again. How could Mason do this to him? They made such a good connection, one that Ruff never thought he'd get from anyone else, so why did he flake out on him? The orange dog felt like crying. Scratch that, he was crying. He sunk to the bottom of the wall and held his face in his paws as he sobbed away the pain, the same words circling in his head: fat. Idiot. Slob. Creep. Fat. Idiot. Slob. Creep... And then he noticed the answering machine had a message left on it. Could it be Mason explaining their self? Or perhaps Blossom and Chet left him a message. No, no, if Blossom and Chet needed to tell him something, they would've said it to his face or texted him. And wouldn't Mason text him an explanation? Who was messaging him? He pressed the button and listened:

You have one new message from: Charlene

*Beep!*

Hi, it's Charlene. I heard your little enbyfriend cancelled your date today. Such a shame. I thought you two would be so happy together. Anyway, I'm just sitting at home, in my jacuzzi. Wink, wink. I know you've probably fantasized about this for years and I just wanna give you what you've wanted. I'm so sorry I sent you those mean text messages. That was meant for, um, someone else. Now, come over here as soon as you get this. I'd hate for you to spend Valentine's Day alone... again.

*Beep!*

Ruff was confused. But a little excited. And also a little suspicious. Looking back at the text message, he noticed that Mason texted in perfect grammar, which was something he never did. He must've been serious about this. Feeling absolutely bummed out from his second break up, he decided that maybe giving Charlene a second chance wouldn't be so bad. After all, she was finally interested in him, and with perfect timing as well. He wiped off his tears, threw his gift to Mason in the trash, and made his way to the poodle-next-door's house.

[Stay tuned for another chapter of Two Gay Dogs. Boy, it's getting wild]

[moonvains]

How would you feel about writing a Nagito x fem!Reader where he has Hanahaki over her? I’d prefer angst with a happy ending but that’s up to you

Nagito x Fem! Reader - Hanahaki Disease

‘How would you feel about writing a Nagito x fem!reader where he has Hanahaki over her? I’d prefer angst with a happy ending but thats up to you’

Hello Anon !! I absolutely love this request, I feel like theres so much I can do with it y’know? I added my own twist that is very, very angsty, and made me cry once or twice. but hopefully, this happy ending will work in some ways - Mod Mikan

Italics = Flashbacks/Past

Standard = Present Tense

TW for accidental overdose scene and seizures

TW for emetophobia, goes without saying since I’m writing a hanahaki plot!

-----

It started with the hiccups, small breathy hitches in his chest, that felt like collapsed buildings and porcelain shards, it stung his throat. Nagito, most very naive, thought almost nothing of it at first. That changed, when he sat heaving and coughing over the fancy porcelain toilet at hopes peak.

As he sat there on his knees, sweat dripping from his head, a pain in his cheek and sticky palms wiped onto his dress pants, he cursed himself with his luck.

It could be worse, just a stomach bug, my luck has obviously changed..

That is what he thought, or maybe wanted to think. A thought deeply embedded into his frail mind every time there is a mild convenience burdening his way. Its just my luck.

Though, as he looked up, green eyes glossing over what would usually be a nasty sight of a quick snack.

Nagito saw flowers, ethereal, magenta roses, dainty petunias and elegant dandelions, floating in the water below him, almost as if they were dancing.

Once again, his breath hitched, though he wasn’t sure if it was from whatever this was. This wasn’t his luck, this wasn’t despair, this wasn’t hope. This was plain, lonely, one sided symptoms of something so delicate, something so sad.

Nagito met you on a summer day, a cool breeze blowing, his hair stuck to his lips like glue. Ultimate luck he guessed. The rest wasn’t important, it was forgotten, and it was irrelevant and it was stupid.

stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid

Nagito was stupid from the moment he ran into you, from the moment he brushed his lips against yours, and from the moment he looked into your eyes. he was stupid.

Stupid to think he, a disappointment, a burden, would ever be graced with something as angelic, gentle and kindhearted as you. He was right, he was really stupid.

It all made sense after you were taken away. The words still rang in his head, quite frequently

Nagito yawned, for a day where he had almost nothing to do, he was quite sleepy. He sat in class 1-A, it was Friday “study” period for class 77-B. Usually you would sit next to him or sleep on his shoulder, or maybe play video games with Chiaki. Though this time you were sick with a bad case of the flu, and he was bored shitless. He blew his hair off his face, only to watch it float back down, then he’d blow it up again.

This went on for about 15 minutes until he got a call, he wishes he didn’t get it, though knows if he didn’t pick up, it would’ve been worse.

“Nagito.. I think I messed up”, your words were slurred, hiccuping and teary.

He knew immediately something bad had happened, he would tell in the way his stomach dropped, and the uneasy anxiousness took over his body.

“Can you please come back to my house, its only me here, I need help”.

Nagito didn’t have to think twice, he ran to your house in a sprint. he didn’t know what was going on, nor what had taken place. Though with the urgency in your house, and the way you sounded off the edge of reality, he knew it was bad.

He didn’t think it would be this bad, he didn’t think it would be his fault, But it was, thats how luck works.

He walked into your house, door unlocked, the air smelt musty and there was silence apart from a dripping tap and muffled crying, it’s not hard to guess which one he went running too.

He ran into the living room to find you on the floor in a ball, your lips were blue, skin pale and eyes wider than they’d ever been before.

“Please just help me”, you sobbed. “I didn’t mean to do this”

Nagito clenched his fists while he sat, flashbacks of what happened circled through his mind. the bathroom floor was cold but his hands felt hot. He didn’t want to admit it, but this was a long time coming.

Hanahaki disease, one sided love huh? I guess it is one sided to love someone nonexistent. What hurt the most is that there was no recovering, the cure stems from the love being returned. There is no love from six feet underground, only worms, maggots and empty promises.

Eyes clenched shut, Nagito held your hair back as you expelled whatever was left in your stomach, he hated that you were in pain, there was yet to be an explanation of what was happening. Walking in only to find his lover sprawled out of the floor, crying slurred nothings before vomiting all over the carpet.

“I..I”

“Speak slowly my love, whats happened?’

“I took a handful of those herbal flu pills you left out on the counter this morning, I figured because they were plant based ”

Thats right, Nagito thought, he left his medication on the counter this morning after staying the night.

his medication on the counter

not herbal pills

a handful of Prozac 50mg capsules

he felt his heart stop

his mind searched for the side affect panel on the pamphlet when he first started taking them

strange dreams, dry mouth, decreased appetite

he remembered the second page

signs of overdose:

dilated pupils, seizures, nausea and vomiting, respiratory issues, fast heart rate and oh my god what the fuck have I done

Mind racing, hands trembling, Nagito held you close, there wasn’t time to explain, thats it, there wasn't time. His hands fumbled for his phone, holding sobs back listening to the operator instruct him to position your barely conscious body into a position seizure friendly.

Cries and mumbled words of “what have i done” escaped from his mouth as he laid you on your side, his school bag under your head and floor cleared from anything potentially dangerous. He sat there, on the floor, holding his chest sobbing, waiting for the ambulance

(Authors note ! DONT use this as a guide to help someone having a seizure or overdose, this is simply from some googling and own personal experiences, if you suspect someone you know is in danger, get a trsuted adult or medical professional)

Luck is a tricky thing, bad luck, good luck, there is a spectrum. Usually someone lives out their life on a scaled ratio of luck, some have unfortunate luck, some have spectacular luck. Though there are the unfortunate few that lie on the sidelines. Their luck a forceful rollercoaster of up and downs, tragedies and utter miracles.

The past couple of months in Nagitos life was a tragedy, who knew the dip of the rollercoaster could cost him so very much of what made him whole.  

As he sat there, the cold tile floor providing comfort for his aching palms, he remembered the paramedics, pathetically inserting a needle in your arm and calling it a day.

“We couldn’t save her, our deepest apologies”

He was angry, he knew you were gone from the moment your eyes rolled back and you lost control of your muscles, he could only sit there and scream.

But if they tried? At least do you decency? Not just act like you were another statistic is their salary, a teenager making a stupid decision.

Your parents were called, the room cleaned, and you were gone, that was it. The relationship you and Nagito held for two years crumbled. gone, as simple as that.

The white haired boy turned up to school the next day, face hollowed out with utter despair, eyes puffy and hair matted. He simply couldn’t deal with being alone, god knows what would’ve happened.

He reluctantly walked into homeroom, Miss Yukizome stationed at her desk with her almost programmed smile “Goodmorning Komaeda! I’m so glad youre joining us for another wonderful day!”

Another wonderful day? Another wonderful day watching the love of your life dying on her living room floor, loosing all control of her body and all you can do is sit there and tell her you love her, praying to all gods above she can hear it? Or Another wonderful day of crying and screaming yourself to sleep? ripping and smashing all the memories you have together in a pile because thats better than sleeping in a comfortable bed knowing she is on a plate of steel in the morgue?

Nagito kept his thoughts to himself, god knows he would probably get sent to a psychiatry institution if he spoke what was really on his mind.

With that, he sat down, eyes at the blank blackboard, fingers tapping at his desk, holding back tears that were already cried.

“Komaeda, you look like you’ve seen a ghost!” Teruteru exclaimed as he entered the classroom

“I wish I had”

He put his head on his desk, talking he couldn’t make out among his classmates filled his ears, he wanted quiet, ‘I wonder if she got quiet?’

Was there an afterlife? Or just a void of empty words and unfinished business. he wouldn’t know unless he experiences it himself, sooner or later.

“Okay class, try and get in some work today okay! I know you can do it” Miss Yukizome sung.

“Komaeda, can you get out of y/n’s seat, she should be coming in soon, hm?”

He didn’t even realise he was sitting in her seat, he was used to sitting at her desk with her, helping her with her work, playing with her hair and just enjoying the company of each other.

“No”, Nagito replied, fast and cold. It was strange for him to act this way, sure, he had a very valid excuse. Though it was unknown territory for the rest of the class.

“Oh no, has she still got that nasty flu? I hope you don’t catch it my dear boy”.

“No”, again, the same, the class had quieted down, he was usually so cheery, so full of hope and adoration for every single one of them.

“Well send my love to her, It’ll be great to see her again when I can” She smiled, completely oblivious.

“You can, the 18th, its an open casket’, Nagito grinned at her, a grin of something so far away from happiness, it reminded Yukizome of a clown, so creepy, yet so theoretically happy.

Everyones faces dropped

Nagito got up from the bathroom floor, this had happened weeks ago, but felt like minutes ago. He waited, and eventually, it stopped.

He walked back to class, the heels of his shoes tapping the hardwood floor of the hall leading up to his classroom. he entered solemnly, like he has every day since then.

Everyones faces dropped

Yet again.

Nagito knew what they were staring at, he didn’t want to address it, but he knew.

On his cheek grew a rose, sprouting at the top of his lip to the bottom of his cheekbone. For such a tragic disease, it was quite beautiful.

For such a tragic event, it felt so beautiful

God okay this was sad and a bit quick, I really did try to do a happy ending, though sometimes, for stories like this, I think it is a little to cliché, Stay safe everyone ! I hope you like this <3

[theatrediva1975]

Coop | Seal Team

Summary: Bravo 4 makes a trip cross country following the events of “Never Out of the Fight”, S2, Ep22.

Pairings: Trent Sawyer, OC Zoe “Coop” Cooper

Zoe Cooper let out a shaky breath as she turned the key in the ignition and her Jeep engine quieted in the dark outside her bungalow. Letting her head thump back against the leather headrest, yet another tear rolled down her cheek. After all these years, she thought that this - saying goodbye - would get easier. But it didn’t. How could it? These were kids she was losing. No matter how hard she tried, how hard her team fought, it was just never enough for so many of these kids they were trying to help, to save. The drugs and the violence - they were losing more than they were saving most days.

She knew she was winding down. After all these years working with so many troubled kids, each loss weighed heavier and heavier on Zoe’s heart. Losing Miguel tonight...she shook her head, trying to erase the image of the 15 year old as the light went out of his eyes.

Zoe took a deep breath and got out of the Jeep, grabbing her bag from the back seat. She was halfway up the walkway when she looked up and saw soft light streaming out her living room window. She didn’t recall leaving a light on when she left at first light. She had wanted to get some painting done at the studio before she headed to the outreach center for what she thought was a short afternoon but turned into a ten hour long nightmare.

Looking back out to the street, Zoe didn’t see anything much out of the ordinary except for a blue sedan parked across the street. Turning back to the front door, she uncapped the mace on her key ring but changed her mind. Instead, she reached into her bag to put her hands on her Smith & Wesson. Only two scenarios came to mind - either her ex had shown up for a booty call (fat chance) or someone had neatly broken in and announced themselves by leaving the lights on while they tossed the joint. Whichever one, she was ready for either.

Quietly sliding the key into the lock, she found it already undone. Strangely, as she cracked the door open, she smelled something delicious coming out of the kitchen.

Definitely not her ex.

He could burn water.

So, burglar who cooks dinner as a way of saying sorry?

“You can put that away,” the voice said.

That voice.

No, it couldn’t be, Zoe thought. Could it?

Taking another step into her living room, Zoe froze in place as the body that the voice belonged to stepped around the corner.

“Hey Coop,” he said softly.

Zoe took one look at the clean shaven face and short hair…

And busted out laughing.

Looking nearly the same as he looked when they first met all those years ago, when he was starting BUD/S and she was tending bar in that dive just off base, stood Trent Sawyer.

Rolling his eyes at her, Trent shook his head, spread his arms out and turned in a circle in the dining room archway. “Go ahead, yuk it up. But this is actually what I’m supposed to look like. Not the long haired hippie freak look you love so much,” he joked with her, a small smile on his face. Man, he had missed her laugh.

But then the laugh began to fade out and the look on her face - one of surprise and joy at his arrival twisted into one of pain and misery as her laughs turned into sobs. In three strides, Trent was in front of her, wrapping his arms around her waist as she collapsed against his chest. Not completely sure what was going on, he just held her tightly until she was ready to tell him what was going on.

After several minutes, and no signs of being cried out, Trent bent down and picked Zoe up, bridal style and sat down on the couch in front of the large picture window that dominated the front of the house. Now set in his lap, Zoe curled in even further into Trent’s chest. He slowly ran his hand up and down her spine, hoping to soothe her a bit, calm her down. He rested his cheek atop her head and whispered affirmations, letting her know he was there, she was safe and that he had her.

Always.

He cupped the back of her head with his right hand, kissing her forehead as another wave of emotion hit her. He ran his left hand lightly up and down her right arm, noticing a few new pieces of art that hadn’t been there the last time they saw each other. It had been nearly two years after all. He had been spun up to Liberia, Estonia, South Sudan, the Triple Frontier, deployed to Afghanistan - again. If he was honest, he probably could’ve come to visit after the helo crash but he had felt compelled to stay close to home while the team recovered. He and Coop had talked and she understood his need to stay close. Then Alanna died, they lost Adam in Mumbai, deployed to Mexico, almost lost Sonny, Clay, Ray. Now Swannie. It had gotten to be too much and he needed time.

So after visiting his mother, he got on a plane and landed in San Diego seven hours later, rented a car and was digging up the rock in the Coop’s backyard with the spare key in it without really thinking about it. It had always been like that between them. Just show up. No questions asked. After another few minutes lost in thought, Trent noticed that Zoe’s breathing started to even out. While there were still a few hitches in her breath here and there, she seemed calmer and Trent started to wonder if she had fallen asleep in his arms. It wouldn’t be the first time. But after another minute, Zoe lifted her head. “Hi,” she smiled sadly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Looking into her bright blue eyes, Trent pushed a strand of her black hair behind her ear. “Hi. Surprise,” he chuckled.

Zoe smiled a little brighter in response to the levity.

“Definitely. And one I needed tonight,” she replied, as she tucked her head back against his chest.

“You hungry?” Trent inquired. “I managed to scrounge together the ingredients for some spaghetti.”

Zoe smiled into his chest and hugged him a little tighter. “Do you mind if we just sit like this for a little longer?”

“Bad day?”

Tears threatened again as she nodded. Curling further into Trent’s chest, Zoe took a deep breath and said, “Can’t talk about it yet.”

Pressing his lips against her forehead, Trent simply nodded, learning long ago that Zoe wouldn’t talk until she was ready to. Her stomach, however, had other ideas, growling loudly. Trent chuckled. “When was the last time you ate?” he queried. Zoe shrugged her shoulders. She honestly couldn’t remember. A scone with her coffee at the studio? Some chips or a bite of a sandwich at lunch?

Zoe lifted her head to once again look into Trent’s eyes. She lifted her right hand, lightly running her finger tips along his jawline. She smiled softly, remembering the clean shaven young sailor who walked into the bar she was tending in Coronado all those years ago. They had clicked immediately. She had been dating...Matt? Steven? Bodhi? Hell, she couldn’t remember after all these years. Didn’t matter. She had been involved with someone, Trent had had a girl “back home” but they still clicked and started a friendship that had outlasted every other relationship both of them had had. He was her rock, and she believed she was his, though he’d never said it out loud. Hell he was here, wasn’t it.

Wait, she thought. Why was he here?

“What’s with the babyface?” she questioned.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Trent dropped his eyes. “Funeral,” he answered.

Before he even knew what was happening, Zoe flipped up and straddled Trent’s lap, wrapping her tattooed arms around his neck and squeezing as hard as she dared. “I am so sorry,” she cried. “God, I suck. Here I am, freaking bawling and mopey and you spent all day on a plane to get here to get away from all that and I just...just, ugh, I’m sorry!”

Trent chuckled at her. His Zoe. Just like that, she could flip that switch and all of a sudden, BAM! All that focus was on someone else now, her own pain and heartache forgotten. His arms snaked around her waist and held her just as tight as she held him. It always amazed him how they were the only ones who could do this for the other - hold each other tight enough to glue all the broken pieces back together.

They sat like that for another few moments until Zoe’s stomach once again made it’s displeasure at being empty known. Both chuckling, they pulled away from each other after a brief forehead bump and got up off the couch.

For the next hour, the two old friends sat at Zoe’s dining room table, eating spaghetti and a small Caesar salad Trent had thrown together with what was left in Zoe’s fridge. As they were loading the dishwasher, she turned to Trent and asked the question she always hated asking when he came to visit. “So,” she began. “How long do I have you for?”

Turning back to her from the stove, Trent smiled at her. “Return flight is on Monday at 1:20 pm.”

Zoe’s head snapped up so fast, Trent thought she would give herself whiplash. “I have you all weekend?” she asked incredulously. Rarely did his schedule allow him the opportunity to spend more than 24 hours with her. Now she had him for 3 and a half days. She jumped up in his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist like a koala bear. It was his favorite thing in the world when she did that.

“Yep, all weekend,” he managed to get out, given the squeeze around his neck.

Zoe felt lighter, just a bit. While she was pretty sure there was going to be a funeral that weekend, at least he would be with her. She always felt like she could get through anything as long as she had her best friend by her side.

“Coop…” Trent whispered. “Can’t...breathe!”

Rolling her eyes, Zoe pulled back, releasing some of the tightness in her hold on him. She was, foolishly, she knew, scared that if she totally let go, he would disappear and that was not something she could handle right now. He was there and she was going to take full advantage of having him by her side the next few days.

Knocking her forehead against his, she let out a sigh that turned into a full blown yawn. Trent chuckled at her. “Am I boring you already? I can always get on the next flight back to Virginia Beach,” he kidded with her, even as he pulled her even more snugly against his body, hoping she understood he was just messing with her.

As he suspected, she again adjusted her grip around his neck in protest. “Not happening, big guy. You’re mine until 1:20pm Monday afternoon. And not one second sooner,” she protested. Unfortunately the force of said protest was nearly drowned out by another yawn.. Trent looked over at the clock hanging on the dining room wall and saw that it was after midnight now. No wonder she’s exhausted, he thought. With whatever it was that happened today, combined with the time, he knew he needed to get her to bed.

“Come on, Coop, time for some sleep,” Trent informed her.

Not even bothering to set her feet on the floor, Trent flipped the switch on the wall and walked back into the living room, flipping the wall switch in there as well. He carried Zoe down the hallway to the bedroom and unceremoniously dumped her on the bed. Zoe answered with a small howl of complaint. “Rude,” she snapped at him, as he chuckled at her.

“Go get changed,” he ordered. Sticking her tongue out at him, Zoe started walking towards the en suite when she stopped in the doorway. “What’s wrong?”

Zoe turned back to Trent with the same sad look that had haunted her face earlier. Tears threatening to spill again, Trent walked around the foot of the bed and put his hands on her shoulders, rubbing them soothingly. Letting out a shaky breath, Zoe quietly began to speak.

“His name was Miguel. He was coming to the center this afternoon to help tutor some of the younger kids,” she said with a small sob. “He was so good with them. He made doing homework fun for them. He would do these little puppet shows or come up with silly songs to sing to them to help them memorize how to do a math equation. Sometimes, I would stay late and paint at the center and he would hang out and ask me all kinds of questions about art and painting and history. He was such a good kid” Tears were freely flowing down her cheeks again. “It was a fucking drive-by. He didn’t deserve...in the middle of the street for Crissakes…surrounded by strangers,” she choked out. “Trent, he died in my arms.” Now fully sobbing, Zoe sank to the floor, in the doorway of her bathroom, repeating one word.

Why...

Once again, Trent felt more than a little helpless. All he could do was hold her, and hope that the newly broken pieces could somehow fit back together, but he knew that wasn’t how it worked. All he could do was sit on the floor with her, stroke her hair and hold her tight until she was able to cry it all out.

Slowly, Zoe’s uncontrolled sobbing started to slow. Her breath continued to hitch every so often. Trent had to admit, this was not the most comfortable position but he refused to move until Zoe did. He was a SEAL after all. He had been in much, much worse conditions. At least here, there was air conditioning. The hardwood floors sucked though.

Trent felt Zoe going limp in his arms, so he looked down to see that she had, indeed, cried herself to sleep. Not wanting to spend the night on the floor if he didn’t have to, Trent began to stand up and move Zoe to her bed. She flinched and grabbed the front of his shirt tighter. “It’s ok, hon. I’m still here,” Trent said. “I’m not going to leave you.”

“Better not,” Zoe sleepily mumbled.

Smirking, Trent started to pull the covers down the bed, laying Zoe down on the cool sheets. “Sweetie, let’s at least get these jeans off of you, ok?”

Zoe just grunted at Trent. Shaking his head in amusement, Trent gently stripped her out of her jeans. He left everything else as his because, frankly, he valued his life. The one time he thought he was being helpful by taking her bra off when she had passed out after a long night of tequila, her foot connected with his junk and he swore he didn’t sit right for a week. So, friendship ended at taking her jeans off.

Zoe was still whimpering in her sleep, so Trent decided to just kick off his shoes, take off his own jeans, and crawl in next to her. As he was getting ready to turn the light off and climb into bed, something caught his eye. Zoe’s tank top had ridden up just a little, just enough for Trent to see a tattoo he never remembered seeing.

It was his insignia. Well, the Bravo insignia.

And it was right on her ribcage.

As he got closer, Trent saw that underneath the small insignia it said “TSB4”.

Trent Sawyer. Bravo 4. His initials and his call sign.

“Hey,” Zoe sleepily called out.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Trent replied as he turned off the light on the bedside table. In the dark, Trent got settled in bed and pulled Zoe’s back to his front, winding his right arm around her waist. Zoe ran her hand down his arm, over the scars no one else ever wanted to look at or acknowledge, let alone touch. But Zoe? She never shied away from touching him there. She always said it meant he lived. She touched it because she could, because he was still here.

Trent lightly kissed the back of her head as Zoe linked her fingers with his. “Love you,” she said sleepily.

“Love you, too,” Trent answered, as he squeezed her just a little bit tighter into him, drifting off to sleep with Zoe in his arms was always the best night's sleep he had.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid: Part Two

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2,064

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

Dean had his suspicions about this case, and you didn’t believe your dad when he said he took care of it. There was something about keeping a secret in and lying about it that you could spot other lies as well. It takes one to know one is what they always say. Dean knew exactly where he was going and knew that St. Anthony’s Cemetery was on his way out of town. It was the cemetery that everyone went to after dying, so if your dad was lying, then the body wouldn’t be in the grave.

“What's up?” Sam asked when the car stopped.

“Isn't that the graveyard back there?”

“Yeah. So, what? Bobby already checked it out.”

“And my dad is never wrong?” you scoffed.

“Yeah, we'll take a peek, and then we'll hit the road. Can't hurt,” he shrugged.

Without another word, you two left the car, and Sam had no choice but to follow. Entering the cemetery, you bounced between graves until you found the one that you were looking for. The only grave with overturned soil was Clay Thompson’s grave. If your dad was wrong, then a body wouldn’t be in this grave.

“Hey, I think I found it,” you called out, pointing to the grave. “Does that look fresh to you?”

“Yeah, actually,” Sam muttered.

Dean thought ahead and brought the shovels beforehand, so he handed you a shovel and got to work. Once you got down to the coffin, you opened it to reveal there wasn’t a body inside.

“What is going on here?”

“I don't know, but something stinks.”

“Looks like the dead are coming to life,” you sighed.

“Where do you think Clay is?” Sam wondered.

“If I had been dead and suddenly brought back to life, I would want to go home. We should find out where he lives and check there,” you sighed, turning away and leaving the two.

Dean watched after you, and his head started turning over what could be wrong with you.

As soon as you got to Clay’s house, you could sense something was wrong. Entering the place, you shined your flashlight around to see it was a normal looking house. The gun in your other hand stayed trained right in front of you in case something decided to attack you at a moment’s notice. There was no indication that the dead was even back here. Rounding the corner, you came face to face with Clay Thompson. He saw an opportunity and began to attack. Before he could even put your hands on you, you blasted him with magic, sending him toppling to the ground.

“What the hell was that?!”

“You're Clay Thompson, right?”

“Please, there’s money in the safe!” he begged.

“We don’t want your money,” you rolled your eyes.

“Who are you?”

“FBI.”

“FBI? Oh, my God. This is about Benny.”

“Dude, you’re the dead one here and you’re complaining about Benny?” you asked.

“He killed me! He shot me in the back! I'm supposed to let him get away with that?”

“Hold up. Are… are you confessing?” Dean asked.

“Please. I'll go with you. Just… just don't wake my kids,” he cried.

“You’ll go with us… where?” Sam asked softly.

“Jail.”

“Let me get this straight. You're Clay Thompson, and you died five years ago? Three days ago, you climbed out of your grave and killed Benny Sutton?”

“Yes,” he hung his head.

“Get up,” you snapped. He scrambled to do so, still scared shitless of you. “You’re dead!”

“I guess. I-I don't know what I am.”

“Clay?” a woman called out, entering the room with a phone in her hand. “I called 911.”

“It's okay, honey. These folks are the FBI. They're here about Benny.”

“Why don't you come with us, Mr. Thompson? I think that'd be best,” Dean chuckled.

The dead man could only nod, but Sam dragged both you and Dean out of his house to speak privately.

“Dean,” he sighed.

“He’s a monster!”

“He's a soccer dad.”

“What do you want to do with him?” he asked.

Suddenly, lights flooded your vision, and you heard Jody’s voice among other real officers.

“Freeze! Drop your guns!” Jody yelled.

You, Dean, and Sam were surrounded, and Jody wasn’t playing around this time. Sighing, you dropped your gun to the ground and put your hands up in defense.

“Remember the guy you said that was dead and couldn't possibly commit murder? There he is,” Dean said, doing what she asked.

“And?”

“And? And you're welcome for catching the undead killer zombie.”

“Whatever he is or isn't, that don't give you the right to shoot him in the middle of the street,” Jody snapped, taking out her cuffs and handcuffing Dean.

Two other officers did the same thing with you and Sam.

“Shoot me?” Clay squeaked.

“You're free to go, Mr. Thompson,” Jody assured him.

“Free to go?! What the fuck is going on?” you asked.

“I can't believe you were gonna kill me!”

“You're a zombie!” you yelled.

“I'm a taxpayer!”

What the fuck is going on in this town?!

“What the hell is going on in this town?” you asked, leaning your head on the brick wall since you three were arrested and taken to jail.

Each of you got a phone call, and each of you called your dad to come help.

“So, what? Sheriff's in on this?” Dean asked.

“The zombies are paying her off?” Sam theorized.

Looking around the empty room, you noticed through the glass windows that Jody was talking to your dad as if they were friends.

“Hey, look,” you pointed it out.

“So, what? Now they're friends?” Sam scoffed.

Jody left your dad’s side and walked into the room to let you go.

“You’re lucky,” she muttered, opening the cell door.

Without waiting, you shot out of your seat and left the cell, marching right over to your dad with a deadly look. All he could do was sigh since he knew he was busted. However, if you would only talk to him, he could help you move past this bad mood of yours. Grabbing the handles of his wheelchair, you pushed him out of the station with the brothers trailing behind you.

“Bobby, I thought the sheriff hated you?” Sam said.

“She did till five days ago.”

“Let me guess, the dead started rising five days ago?” you asked. “You knew about this and didn’t tell us?”

“Yep.”

“I think what Y/N meant to say is, you lied to us?”

“Look, I told you there was nothing here. And there isn't. Not for you.”

“There are zombies here.”

“There are zombies, and then there are zombies. Come with me.”

“Dad, who are you hiding?” you asked, but he didn’t answer.

He didn’t answer anything on the way home, and Dean had enough of it when he walked into his house.

“You want to tell us what the hell—”

A woman wearing an apron walks into the room carrying a plate which interrupted Dean.

“Oh, hey. I didn't realize you were bringing company.”

“It’s four a.m., babe. You didn't need to cook,” your dad chuckled.

“Oh, please! I’ll get some more plates,” the woman smiled, going back into the kitchen to get some more plates.

“Babe?” you asked, looking at him.

“Karen. My wife.”

“Karen died, dad. You told us this.”

“Exactly,” he sighed.

Karen came back out with more plates, and as soon as Dean saw the pie on the table, he was sold. Everyone sat down at the table, but you couldn’t seem to eat. Losing this baby of yours lost your appetite, and you knew everyone noticed.

“This is incredible, Mrs. Singer,” Dean said with his mouth full of pie.

“Thank you, Dean,” she smiled.

Both you and Sam gave a pointed look at Dean, but all he could do is shrug.

“It's great, Karen. Thanks. Could you, um, just give us a minute?” you asked politely.

She nodded and left the room, and the smile left your face.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” you snapped at your dad.

“Y/N, I can explain,” he sighed.

“Explain what? Lying to us? Or the American girl zombie making cupcakes in your kitchen?!”

“First of all, that's my wife, so watch it.”

“That is not your wife! She died, dad! People just don’t come back from the dead! If they did, my mother would be here but she isn’t!” you yelled emotionally.

“Bobby, whatever that thing is in there, it is not your wife,” Sam sighed.

“You think I'm an idiot, boy? My dead wife shows up on my doorstep, and you think I'm not gonna test her every way I ever learned?”

“Then what is it? Zombies? Revenant?” you asked.

“Hell if I can tell. She's got no scars, no wounds, and no reaction to salt, silver, or holy water.”

“Dad, she crawled out of her coffin. Something has to be at work here.”

“No, she didn't. I cremated her. Somehow, some way, she's back.”

“That’s impossible,” Sam scoffed.

“Tell me about it.”

“You bury her ashes?” Dean asked.

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

“In the cemetery. That's where they all rose from.”

“How many?” you asked.

“15 or 20. I made a list,” he stated, handing the list over to Sam. “Uh, there's Karen, Clay, and Sheriff Mills—her little boy came back.”

“That’s why she wanted us to drop it,” you understood.

“And there were no signs? No omens?”

“Well, there were the lightning storms.”

“That's what we said. What else?” Dean asked.

Bobby wheeled over to his desk and grabbed a book, reading from the last page that was opened.

“And through the fire stood before me a pale horse. And he that sat atop him carried a scythe, and I saw since he had risen, they, too, shall rise, and from him and through him.”

“So, Death is behind this? The Horseman? The Grim Reaper?”

“Apparently.”

“And you didn’t think to take this as a bad sign? These Horsemen want the Apocalypse to happen.”

“Yeah, I know, but—”

“Don’t you dare say, ‘it’s your wife’. It’s not.”

“Bobby, why would Death raise 15 people in a podunk town like Sioux Falls?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know.”

“You know, if Death is behind this, then whatever these things are, it's not good. You know what we have to do here.”

“She doesn't remember anything, you know.”

“She’s dead! Brain doesn’t function anymore. Of course, she doesn’t remember.”

“Remember what?” Sam asked.

“Being possessed, me killing her, or her coming back.”

“Dad,” you groaned.

“No, don’t ‘Dad’ me. Just... just listen, okay? She hums when she cooks. She always used to hum when she cooked. Tone deaf as all hell, but... and I never thought I would hear it again. Look, just read Revelation. The dead rise during the apocalypse. There's nothing in there that says that's bad! Hell, maybe it's the one good thing that comes out of this whole bloody mess!”

“What would you do if you were us?” Dean asked.

“I know what I'd do, and I know what you think you got to do. But... I'm begging you. Please. Please. Leave her be.”

The next day, you knew that getting something inside your stomach would be the best thing for you. It’s been days since your last proper meal, and you were at the diner picking at your food while you three discussed the case.

“So, what do you think?” Sam asked.

“There's nothing to think about. I'm not gonna leave Bobby at home with the bride of Frankenstein.”

“Hell, if you think I’ll let it happen,” you scoffed.

“Then, what do you want to do? Just walk in there in front of Bobby and blow her skull off?”

“If she decides that Bobby's face is the blue plate special, I'd like to be there.”

“Fine. See what else we can find out,” Sam groaned, getting up and leaving you and Dean alone… bad idea.

“Okay, this diner is completely empty except for just us. Want to tell me why you’re not eating or sleeping?” Dean asked.

“I have to go check on my dad,” you whispered, leaving your plate of food exactly like how it was when you got it.

Grabbing your jacket, you left Dean alone to figure out what the hell was wrong with you.

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[dropsiaczek]

Hey Jude (Jude Law x Reader)

(The gif’s not mine, all credits to the original owner)

Pairing: Jude Law x fem!reader

Word count: 1800

Warnings: mild swearing

Summary: When the reader gets injured during a morning jog, help comes from a rather unexpected source

Only two weeks were left to the London Marathon for which I’ve been preparing for nearly a year and I knew I was reaching my peak form, so my expectations were high. Running was present in my life for five years. I started right after I finished dieting that helped me lose 15 kilograms of weight. And now I was just about to do something really huge. I expected it to be my biggest achievement as a runner.

Despite the rain outside and an early hour I was getting ready for another training in my plan. It was supposed to be 25 kilometres, so I planned my route from my house in Westminster, along Thames’ bank, through London Bridge and back on the other side. Runs along Thames were my favourite, so I zipped my jacket, turned on the music and headed out. The rain was spiking my face in an unpleasant way and the sidewalk was slippery here and there. But I always said there are only two excuses for leaving the training undone: you died, or somebody murdered you. No exceptions.

Three quarters of my training were done, when my leg unexpectedly slipped and twisted with a crack that was audible through the earphones I was wearing. The pain and sudden loss of balance made me fall and additionally hit my knee really painfully. The pain in my ankle brought tears to my eyes but I still managed to see how it instantly started to swell. It’s not that bad, I cheered myself up in my thoughts and tried to get up. The pain that strike me was unbearable, like somebody pierced a hundred of incandescent needles into my ankle. A short cry of pain escaped my lips.

“Here, let me help you.” I heard a masculine voice from behind me. A voice that sounded somewhat familiar. The man approached me from the front and stretched out his arms to help me up. I hated being a damsel in distress, but also knew that I won’t get far without somebody’s help. I took the man’s hands and stood up on one leg. When I was already up, I took a look at my saviour’s face and the realization hit me like a train. Jude Law was the one to help me. My face started to burn from blushing, and it made me feel even more like an idiot.

“Thanks,” I said quietly, glueing my eyes to the ground. I tried standing on the injured leg, but the pain came back the moment it touched the ground.

“You really thought it would work?” Jude Law asked in an ironic tone. “The plan is – I help you crawl to the nearest bench and leave you there for a short while. I’ll go get my car and then take you to the hospital.”

I nodded in response and flung my arm around Jude’s shoulder. With Jude’s help I jumped on one leg to the nearest bench and sat. The seat was wet and cold from the rain, but I didn’t mind it at that moment.

“Stay here,” the man commanded. “And try not to anything stupid. I’ll be back in ten.”

I tried to think about what happened and how it happened, but the pain deafened my thoughts and made it impossible to focus. My ankle grew bigger and bigger, and the pulsating pain was there even when I kept the leg up. I was so angry with myself. How could I let this happen? How could I be so inattentive in such an important time? But it has already happened and couldn’t be undone. Everything I could do was to hope that the injury isn’t too serious. Jude Law soon came back and led me to his car.

“Wait!” I exclaimed before getting in. “My mother always told me not to get into a car with strangers.”

The man rolled his eyes. His beautiful green eyes. “Do I really need to introduce myself?”

“Well…technically…no,” I answered slowly.

“See? I should be the one concerned about getting into a car with you, miss,” Jude replied with a low chuckle.

“Oh yeah, right, I’m (y/n) (y/l/n) and you needn’t be afraid of me. In this state I wouldn’t be able to catch up with you anyway,” I introduced myself and tried my best to smile, but what showed up on my face was rather a grimace of pain.

“Now, that we have this stated, get in, we need to have you checked.”

I obeyed and the super-handsome Londoner closed the door behind me. I watched him as he smoothly and gracefully took his place behind the wheel. I admired his profile and took in his features. He definitely was a kind of man to die for, despite the fact that he was my father’s age.

“Stop staring, you’re distracting me,” Jude warned me in his sexy voice.

“Sorry,” I murmured and looked down at my hands. Jude pulled out from the parking space and the journey began. It was already the time when London was getting crowded and jammed by people heading to schools and work, so I expected the road to take quite some time. I thought it would be lame to just sit there in silence, so started a conversation. “Shouldn’t you be used to people watching you?” I asked, my eyes still not leaving my hands.

“Excuse me?” Jude sounded a bit startled by my question.

“Nevermind. Sorry. I didn’t want to bother you,” I excused myself.

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s just…” the man took a moment to think “it feels different when people watch me onscreen, it feels natural. But I get uncomfortable when somebody stares at me in real. Don’t you get this feeling too?”

“Actually no. I work as an academic teacher and I’m used to students staring at me during a lecture, so I guess I got used and it doesn’t bother me anymore. I stopped paying attention to it,” I explained.

“An academic teacher,” Jude replied appreciation, “you must be not much older than your students?”

“Mhm,” I hummed in an agreeing response.

“I also thought that you, brainiacs, prefer some intellectual workout to physical workout.”

“Most of us do,” I agreed, “but I’m the exception that proves the rule. I am…I was preparing for the marathon here in London.”

A content hum escaped the man’s lips. We spent rest of the journey in silence. Luckily it was just a short while. Jude Law parked his car right before the entrance to the hospital and I was ready to get out of the car, but he stopped me.

“Wait here,” he commanded once again and left. He came back soon with a wheelchair and helped me get onto it. He pushed me inside and headed towards the ER. A harsh nurse at the registration desk told me to fill in some papers and wait until somebody calls me.

“You don’t have to wait here with me. We can be stuck here for five minutes or five hours, it’s a lottery, and I’m sure you have plenty of better things to do.”

“It’s fine,” Jude assured me with a warm smile. “I’ll bring this matter to an end. Or maybe further…” I swear I saw Jude Law wink at me in that moment. And the thing he said…what exactly did he mean?

I didn’t have much time to think, since the doctor called my name way sooner than I expected. My saviour got up ready to push me into the doctor’s office, but the nurse’s voice made him stop in his tracks. “Are you married or related to her?” the nurse asked in the same unpleasant voice, not lifting her head from the documents she was filling in.

“No,” Jude replied truthfully.

“So you can’t come in.”

I turned back to the man who has helped me so much in my misery and gave him an apologizing look.

“It’s okay, I’ll wait here,” he assured me before the door to the doctor’s office closed behind me.

“A sprained ankle it is?” The doctor asked, reading my papers. “I need more information.”

“It happened during a run. My foot twisted inside with a loud crack and it started to swell almost immediately. It’s really big now. And when I try to put it on the ground, it explodes with stingy pain,” I explained.

“I will take you to an x-ray to check if there are no fractures.” The doctor took me to the room next door to have me x-rayed and then back to his office. My x-ray photo was already on his computer. He analysed it for a while before making a diagnosis. “Well…a small piece of bone broke off, but it’s nothing too serious, just really painful. There’s no need to stiffen the ankle. Medication and some rest will do.”

“I have a marathon to run in a fortnight, will I run it?”

“Forget it. A month is the least you need to rest.”

I felt tears well up in my eyes. A year of preparations for nothing, when I was just about to reach my goal. But there was no point in arguing. The pain was real, and I knew it wouldn’t leave anytime soon.

The doctor headed me the prescription and advised me how to take all of the medication. He also advised me to come back to the ER if my leg gets worse. Then he wished me all the best and a quick recovery and pushed my wheelchair out of his office. Jude nearly sprinted to me.

“What did the doctor say?” he asked, concern visible in his eyes.

“Rest and medication. Oh, and I can forget about the marathon this year, all preparations for nothing,” I explained. My heart aching as I spoke. “Will you be so kind and take me home or is it too much to ask of you?”

Jude kneeled in front of me and pulled me into a reassuring hug. When he pulled back, he gave me another one of his warm, hearty smiles. “Of course, I will take you home. But we will stop at some pharmacy first and get you all your drugs.” The man got up and moved behind my chair. “And later, if you allow me, I’d like to take care of you.”

His words surprised me. A famous, handsome, English actor paid some attention to me. This was a chance not to be wasted.

“You may take care of me, Mr. Law,” I agreed, “I like your offscreen side.”

Jude chuckled in response. “And when you get better, we’ll go for a run together. I won’t let you hurt yourself again.”

“I think I can agree to that,” I said with a giggle as we walked towards the exit.

@kuroshikine

[weartirondad]

All My Broken Pieces (You Found Them, Glued Them, Made Them Whole)

Relationships: Rhodey & Tony, Pepper / Tony, Peter & Tony, Tony & Touch

FF.net I ao3

Tony had always craved touch.

When he was a toddler, the only way for Maria and Jarvis to calm him down or get him to sleep was always through touch.

Maria would hug him and sing him a lullaby, lips so close to his ear that he felt her warm breath on his skin and only then, when he was certain that his mother was there with him, would he relent and close his eyes, falling asleep almost immediately.

Jarvis would calm the body shaking sobs and soul splitting screams he tried to bury in his pillow by running a warm hand up and down his spine, whispering soothing words that Tony never really picked up on.

It was always the touch of a person he trusted that kept him from falling apart any further. It was the touch that was his crutch when he couldn’t stand back up on his own. Touch was the glue that held all of his broken pieces together even when he himself had given up on repairing the damage because it seemed futile.

When he meets Rhodey he has long since come to accept that needing someone else’s touch is a weakness. A weakness that he can’t afford if he wants to make his father proud.

Stark men are made of iron.

It’s etched into his heart, the incision aching with every beat, and he feels his father’s word in his lungs with every breath he takes. Like acid the words dissolve him from the inside, battling the very core of who he is – was.

He’s 15 and he’s by far the youngest student on the MIT campus.

Everything and everyone around him feels so much bigger than he is, than what he feels like, but he’s used to feeling small and worthless so he squares his shoulders and he puts on the persona that has gotten him through his one dreadful year of high school. He’s smart, he’s sassy and he doesn’t mince his words. He lets everyone know exactly who he is.

It doesn’t take him more than two weeks to troop together a group of people who love hanging out with Howard Stark’s son. (It just happens to be Tony, he knows that.)

It takes him three parties to get his reputation as a player. (Because sex, he was taught, is the only physical connection that is about control not weakness and he can’t shut down the last pathetic part of him that still craves human contact.)

James Rhodes is not a player. He shows up to some parties, he socializes easily and is an all-around all-liked person. He speaks his mind but he does so in a polite way, inviting discussion and discourse as long as it’s on-topic und respectful. He doesn’t let frustration and anger cloud his judgement. He’s resilient in his work and his intelligence is quiet and steady.

In short, he’s everything Tony is not and normally their paths would never have crossed.

Maybe it’s fate that decides that they should meet. Maybe it’s just dumb luck. Whatever it is, Tony is grateful they do.

When they do, Tony is running on four hours of sleep in just as many days and he’s shaking like a leaf. His hands are trying to connect the last few wires on his robot but they’re too jittery to perform the delicate action and he ends up electrocuting himself. Just for a moment, though, and no one else in the big lab seems to notice so he just keeps going like he always does.

That is until a heavy hand settles on his shoulder, making him flinch so hard he drops both the unfinished robot and his tools. Every little fiber in him is screaming alarm. Sudden touches can only ever mean pain and he is too tired to deal with any more of that right now, too hollow to put up his mask.

Somehow he manages to keep himself from yelping but when he turns and his eyes land on the other boy who’s standing way too close for comfort, his fear morphs into anger. (Anger, Howard taught him, demands respect and installs fear in his opponent.)

“What the actual fuck?” he exclaims. What started as a deep manly curse ends in a high-pitched screech, informing the other kid of just how young he actually is. Tony fucking hates puberty.

“Sorry.” The other boy backs up immediately, brown eyes open and free of any trace of malice.

It doesn’t mean it isn’t there, just means he hides it well, Tony thinks.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. Just wanted to let you know that they’re closing up the labs in about twenty minutes.”

Tony nods and he thinks, hopes, that this is it. That the other boy just came to tell him that and that he is going to leave now. But these eyes – they stare right into his soul and it makes him feel lacking because he knows what they’ll find, he knows what everyone has always found so far. No one has stayed after all.

“What are you working on?” the older boy asks. He seems truly interested and it’s confusing Tony. No one is ever interested in what he’s doing. Not really anyway.

He frowns. “What? So you can make fun of me?” And damn it if this doesn’t sound absolutely pathetic.

“No, of course not.” The boy seems honestly insulted at the accusation. (Good, maybe he’ll leave before he can hurt him.) “It just looks really cool. Is that a robot?”

Tony shrugs, giving up on trying to get him to leave in favor of trying to finish his work before the lab closes. “He’s supposed to be one.” For some reason the extra set of eyes makes him move more carefully and, without any more incidents, he manages to finish connecting all the wires.

He waits. Something is supposed to happen. Or has he messed this up, too? Is he really not capable of doing anything right at all?

Suddenly the machine makes a sad beep-boop, moving its claw once, twice, three times before it short circuits and dies down with a gurgling noise.

Pathetic.

And Tony? He’s this close to a mental breakdown and he knows he can’t succumb to it here because no one is allowed to see Howard Stark’s son cry. Least of all an older guy from MIT, smart and on the lower range of popular, who’s going to tell everyone about how much of a scalawag he is.

Stark men are made of iron.

But Tony isn’t.

His body is shaking with sleep-deprivation, too much caffeine and shame when he picks up the useless robot that he has already internally labeled Dum-E. He hoped that Dum-E would show his father that even dummies like him can be useful sometimes but it seems like his old man was right. Like he always is. Tony truly is good for nothing.

A dummy who builds dummies who aren’t good for anything either.

“That was pretty impressive,” the other boy interrupts his inner monologue and Tony fails to find the sarcasm in his voice but maybe he just can’t even read people anymore, so he glares at him. He doesn’t seem to care about it too much, though, and reaches out to inspect the inner workings of the robot with gentle, steady hands.

His arm is resting lightly against Tony’s and he doesn’t dare to move, mind hyper-focused on the contact. The stranger is warm and soft and real and Tony’s heart aches suddenly with how much he misses his mother’s hugs. So he doesn’t pull away and tries to shift his focus a little until he can tune into what’s apparently a conversation now.

“I think if you took a little time to actually sleep this could end up being really useful,” he tells him with a small smile, “I’m actually working on an assignment about the most basic form of artificial intelligence. What do you say? We could put your heads together over lunch tomorrow?”

Tony is too stunned at how nice he is being treated to tell him to go fuck himself so he simply nods. The other boy grins, seemingly happy about their date.

“Great, then tomorrow at Dan’s Diner around noon? My treat.”

“You do know I’m Tony Stark, right?” He frowns then at the weirdly likeable boy who’s clad in a loosely fitting t-shirt that has seen better days and worn shoes that are distinctly lacking any real sole at this point and who’s offering to pay for his meal.

The boy cocks an eyebrow and shrugs. “And I’m James,” he tells him matter-of-factly, “James Rhodes, not Bond.”

“That’s a boring name,” he can’t stop himself from saying, cringing inwardly at his own bluntness, even as he shakes the extended hand. “There’s no cool nickname for James. I’ll call you Rhodey.”

He rolls his eyes but they seem to twinkle at the nickname and his voice is pleasantly teasing when he answers. “Whatever you say, Tones.”

Maybe it’s the sleep-deprivation or the looming of despair at yet another failed project. Maybe it’s because that’s the first casual conversation he’s had in weeks and he’s been longing for another person to talk to. Or maybe it’s because for some inexplicable reason James Rhodes’ company makes him feel safe.

But for the first time since leaving Jarvis and his mother behind he laughs, a deep-belly laugh that shakes his whole body up and that warms his chest with something other than dreed.

They end up working on Dum-E for a little over two weeks and when they’re finally finished he can’t talk but he’s capable of understanding basic voice commands and even answers in beep-boop’s that seem to convey emotions such as sadness, cheerfulness and anger. (Or maybe they’re imagining that. They have barely slept in days.)

The best thing about getting his robot to work isn’t the fact that they prove Dum-E to be actually useful but the way Rhodey becomes the first person in a long time he feels truly comfortable with.

Rhodey, ever so perceptive, figures out Tony’s bivalent relationship with touches in a matter of days and he’s always careful not to crowd him, backing off when Tony needs it, but there when a gentle touch is all he needs to not fall apart.

After finishing Dum-E his new friend leans forward carefully, holding his gaze as if asking for permission, before he engulfs him in a tight hug. And Tony realizes, as he lets himself rest against the older boy’s chest and relaxes in his friend’s arms that this is one of the most peaceful moments in his life. It gives him hope for the future that, for once, has nothing to do with being the heir of Stark Industries.

And he vows to himself that he won’t ever give up on Dum-E just like Rhodey, for some indiscernible reason, never gave up on him.

.

“Tony! Stop for a second, please!”

Her raised voice catches him off guard even though it shouldn’t have. He has seen this coming, has prepared for it. Still, when he lowers the spatula his entire body has gone rigid and it’s all he can do to stare at the sizzling pieces of bacon in the pan. The sound feels weirdly out of place in the otherwise quiet room and he can only watch them in crude fascination, certain that in a couple of minutes they’d be burned and he’d have to throw them away but not moving to change the setting on the stove.

It’s like waiting for a train wreck you know is going to happen. It’s an apt description of his life, he figures.

Pepper’s voice is soft again and he feels more than hears her step closer to the kitchen counter he’s hiding behind. He can picture the way her long hair falls over her shoulders in artistic waves and he knows that there is a frown on her forehead, a tiny wrinkle sitting right between her eyebrows. He knows the look in her eyes, the blue eyes that are deeper than the ocean, similarly infinite and so much more beautiful.

“Can you turn around for me?” she asks, gently and probing but not demanding. Leave it to Pepper, the most demanding woman he has ever met, to be the first to let him decide whether to look at her or not.

He’s sure she knows how much he hates being yelled at and he can’t help but feel thankful for her thoughtfulness. It makes it a little easier for him to release the death grip is hand has on the wooden spatula. Olive wood, he thinks absentmindedly, his mother always liked the olive wood spatulas, said they reminded her of home.

His skin is still crawling with barely veiled anxiety but he manages to breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

He finds the tiny remains of his shattered masks somewhere deep inside him and it’s enough to make him shake his head.

“Nope. Don’t think I can,” he says, voice light and cheerful and oh-so-fake. “Gotta watch that bacon before I burn down the house again, right? You told me yourself that that’s not a very responsible thing to do and I –“

Suddenly her hand comes into focus, delicate fingers turning down the stove before settling on the countertop.  

Again, her voice is so sweet that it runs down his back like honey. It’s warm and a little sad and it makes his anxiety spike. His heart is thumping so loudly in his chest, he’s sure she hears it too because she sighs very quietly and then her hand is gone from his sight and he thought he would feel better but he doesn’t. He feels worse. As if she’s already gone.

“Pep –“ he all but whispers because he doesn’t know what else to say, how else to explain the fact that he slipped out of bed and left her all on her own after they spent the night together.

Oh god. They spent the night together. They –

When her voice comes back it’s accompanied by a feather-light touch on his wrist. No force, just a question.

“Tony,” she starts and he squeezes his eyes shut because he doesn’t want to hear it, can’t stomach listening to it but also can’t stop himself wanting more of that angle-like voice. “Why won’t you look at me?”

He feels her slender fingers run over his palm and toy with his. Hers are warm and soft where his are cold and calloused. They make a good pair, he thinks, and before he can stop himself he intertwines his fingers with hers and pulls her marginally closer.

“Because,” he whispers, raising their joined hands to his lips to press a kiss to the back of hers, “Because then you’d see me and you’d find that I’m lacking and I’d just rather not do that today.” Or any day, really.

“I’ve already seen you,” she answers and he can hear the smile in her voice, would love to see it on her lips but is too scared to move.

Tony shakes his head but doesn’t release her hand. As if he could make her stay if he just held on tightly enough. “Not like this, you haven’t.”

He’s not sure anyone has ever seen him like this. Hell, he’s not even sure he’s ever been like this – all butterflies-in-stomach and sweaty palms.

It’s love, he thinks. But he’s not sure because he’s never felt it before, doesn’t know how it’s supposed to feel like and if people like him even get to experience something so sacred. If he had to describe it, though, he’d say he’s in love. It’s the scariest thing he has ever felt in his life.

It’s scarier than terrorists in a cave, scarier than falling to his death and scarier, even, than his old man’s raised voice and the smell of whiskey hanging in the air.

“Yes, I have,” she replies easily, in the no-nonsense voice that only Pepper Potts can ever really pull off, and tugs on his hand. “Look at me, please. I promise I won’t run.”

Those were the exact words he has wanted to hear, still he can’t help but question their sincerity. After all, who did stick around after seeing him? Only Rhodey so far. And Pepper but –

He turns around and meets her eyes and she just holds his gaze.

The first thing he notices is the sleepy sand in the corner of her eyes. Dried rheum – a combination of mucin, dust, blood cells and skin cells – entirely gross if it would be anyone else but this is Pepper and he marvels at the sight.

She has never been this raw in his company and he wants to cherish it and tell her how beautiful she looks without make-up on. He wants to tell her about the sun light reflecting in her eyes and how her freckles are like a treasure map. He doesn’t say any of that, though.

They just look at each other.

It’s Pepper who moves first. (Of course she is. That woman is fearless and he’s a mess.)

Very gently she pulls her hand out of his grasp and takes a step closer before he can complain about the loss of warmth. She raises her hands, telegraphing every movement as if she knows that he flinches when someone raises their hand too suddenly (she probably does), and settles them on his cheeks.

He leans into the comfort she’s providing with her thumbs rubbing circles into his skin. He lets himself relish in the warmth her touch is offering and his free hand settles on her hip, just a few centimeters over the hem of his shirt that she’s wearing.

“I’m a mess,” he tells her, eyes closed and she is so close he feels her body vibrate with soft chuckles and her hot breath is tickling his chin.

“I know,” she answers and without having to look he knows that she’s grinning up at him in a way that makes the dimples on her cheek stand out. “But I’ve known that before.”

“I’m going to mess up. I’m not good at – this.” He’s not sure why he is trying to make her turn away but he knows that he has to be open if this can have any chance of working out. God, he wants it to work out so badly.

Her reply is instant and makes his eyes fly open. “Well, then you apologize and work on making it better the next time around. You’ll improve. We both will. It’s what people do in a relationship.”

Again she meets his gaze warmly and without hesitation, a smile curving her lips upwards just the tiniest bit.

It’s in that moment that his love for her overwhelms him. It comes crashing down like a wave of adoration and appreciation and devotion and for a second he’s stumbling until he regains his balance and matches her smile with his.

“I wouldn’t know what people do in a relationship, Ms. Potts.” He grins down at her cheekily and a weight falls off his chest when she starts laughing loudly.

“Believe me, I know,” she smirks and leans up to press a lingering kiss to his lips, “But I think I’m up to the challenge, Mr. Stark.”

Her hands are still resting on his face and it feels like they have always been there, as if this is supposed to be. As if they were meant to be.

It takes them a lot of effort and ups and downs but Pepper’s touch slowly glues all his broken pieces back together, blowing kisses to the faint scars that remain.

.  

When he hears the blood rushing in his ears and feels his heart beat violently in his chest out of nowhere, he stops mid-movement. Screwdriver in hand with his body bent over the wiring of the suit he’s working on he tries to take a deep breath just to see if he can.

It works surprisingly well but the sensation of his body shaking with every beat of his heart - like it’s a wrecking ball not a pump - is still there and while it’s nothing entirely new he really doesn’t enjoy the feeling of his ribcage threatening to tear open with every thump of the vital organ.

Quietly he sets down the tool and moves his right hand to rest over his sternum, right above the scar where his arc reactor used to sit. The feeling of skin on skin and the light pressure he puts on his thorax help ground him only marginally and his stupid heartrate is hell bent on accelerating no matter how evenly he breathes which is just annoying.

His left hand comes up, fingers routinely grabbing his radial pulse point as he tries to will his heart to slow down. The moves have become instinctually over the years. Having had shrapnel mere millimeters from one of the few things he quite literally can’t live without has made him hyperaware of everything that might be going wonky in his chest.

It’s that hyper-fixation that makes even the smallest palpitation seem like a coronary, complete with mortal agony and phantom pain spreading into his left arm until his pinky starts cramping.  

Three counts in, five counts out.

He coaches himself to breathe evenly. The chances of this actually being a heart attack are slim to none. His doctor had him checked out just three days ago. As the doc would say: his fear is understandable but unnecessary. It’s fine. Just a random spike of anxiety that doesn’t mean anything.

Three in. Five out.

One, Two, Three.

One, Two, Three, Four, Five.

Again.

“Mister Stark? Are you okay?”                          

“Huh?” he opens his eyes all at once to see Peter standing next to his work station, a tube of something in his hand, worrying at his bottom lip as he watches Tony cling to his own chest.

Upon seeing the big brown eyes that peep out under the messy shock of curls he feels warmth spread through his chest like a wildfire. It’s almost unpleasantly fast but it leaves a field of peace in its wake which is doing more in calming his racing heart than any breathing exercise he’s tried so far. There’s something undeniably powerful about this kid’s presence to ground him to reality.

“Yeah,” he says and when the words leave his mouth they’re barely a lie anymore but they have a pact where they don’t lie at all, so he tags on, “Just my heart running riot for no apparent reason. Don’t worry about it. What were you working on? Is that Chemistry project going well? Do you need help?”

As has become the norm in moments like these, Peter completely ignores his attempts to change the topic and cocks his head to the side in a mix of worry, amusement and plain adoration as he gingerly takes a seat on the swivel chair next to his mentor.

God. His love for this kid is making his heart clench painfully. He’s never really experienced this kind of unconditional love before and some days it feels like his body hasn’t been made with emotions like that in mind. They’re burning too hot when he’s freezing, leaving him reeling and unsure of where to turn.

“Did you take your meds?” He turns on the chair until his left thigh is resting against Tony’s right knee and the petite touch is incredibly welcome, almost disturbingly calming.

He makes a face because he doesn’t like talking about his mental health and everything that’s wrong with it but he relents with a soft sigh and a shake of his head. “Nope. Doc said we could taper off them as long as I keep seeing her and nothing new comes up. But it’s fine, Pete. I promise. Just not all that comfortable, that’s it.”

When Peter only pouts but doesn’t argue any further, he eases his hands down from his own chest and rests them on the kid’s shoulders instead, preening inwardly when the boy meets his gaze openly without further prodding.

“I’m not going to die in the next couple hours. I promise.”

The teenager relaxes then, huffing and leaning forward to rest his forehead on his mentor’s shoulder and like clockwork calloused fingers find the tense spots on his neck and start kneading it gently. “I just – worry. I’m sorry.”

“Tell you what,” Tony grins, standing up and pulling the kid with him, “Let’s call it a day down here and catch a movie until Pep gets home for dinner, whataya say?”

“Can we just listen to music?”

“Sure we can, bud.”

They end up listening to one of the few recorded pieces of Guido Agosti, an Italian pianist that taught his mom to play when she was young and it brings him back to a time when touch was not yet forbidden. A time when Maria Stark would sing him to sleep and he stayed up well past his bed-time only to listen to her play.

Sometimes they would listen to recordings together, from her priced possession of vinyl and those are some of the few moments of his childhood that he still revisits frequently and joyfully albeit with a heavy heart.

It’s not that all that different now.

Peter’s ear is resting right above his heart, his breathing coming out in soft even puffs of warm air against Tony’s collarbone. He’s curled up into him, fitting into Tony’s embrace like he was meant to end up here. Like this has been life’s grand goal all along and if that’s true then Tony can’t even be mad at everything that’s happened so far.

His fingers run through the mess of curls ever so gently, working on the numerous knots with a proficiency that has come with hours and hours of practice.

The kid’s already starting to nod off to the quiet calming sounds of his mother’s childhood hero and he pulls him impossibly closer, index and middle finger coming to rest over the soft thump of his temporal pulse point.

 Peter Parker came into his life when he was lost, only held together by Rhodey and Pepper but always dangerously close to falling apart. He thought there was no more room in his heart. That there was no way someone could get past the barriers he’s built over the years and, honestly, he didn’t think there was any need to.

Somehow, and without meaning to, Peter has barreled past all of them and quietly but firmly made room between all the scars and the betrayal and the fear. He settled down between all the pieces, build himself a shelter and, simultaneously, filled an aching hole in Tony’s chest that he hadn’t even realized was there.

Tony leans over to pull a blanket on top of both of them, smiling into Peter’s hair when he nestles closer and lets out a soft snore. Before he drifts off to sleep, heart beating strong and steady and normally in his chest, he presses a kiss to his temple.

“I love you, Petey. Never change. Not like I did.”

[amelee23]

I do | Kim Yugyeom

Summary: He made a promise he couldn't keep.

Characters: Kim Yugyeom, Mark Tuan, BamBam, Bang Chan (Stray Kids) and an unknown female. (It's an xreader don't worry lol)

Genre: Horror, Angst

Tags: Zombie AU, Blood, Gore, Character Death

Word Count: 3.150

They were inside the JYPE building when news hit the TV station. 

The announcement came out blaring, static hissing like it wanted to get alive. An outbreak, a mad scientist releasing a gas in a closed space of his lab only for subjects to escape.

Panic ensued, with gasps and minds refusing to work. The people in that small, dance studio that served as some sort of friendship reunion at the time, were JB, Yugyeom and his girlfriend, Mark, BamBam, and surprisingly, Chan of Stray Kids. They were all making plans, mentally preparing themselves for the worst.

"This building can hold us for a while. It's got oxygen supply, food, water, everything we need."

"But what if they get in?"

Before they could even develop a plan, Jaebeom was making his way out the door. He had been pacing around the room this whole time, something clearly bothering him.

"You got this, Chan." He said. "I've got another 3 to find. I'll look for Stray Kids as well." In that moment, Chan felt a pang of hurt. The entirety of Stray kids weren't there, what could be happening to them in this very moment?

"Let's promise to see each other again." And with that, Jaebeom was gone from sight.

Chan's stomach was twisting and turning. How could he, take care of this entire group of people, while his own teammates were God knows where? He wasn't sure of himself, but he wasn't sure of Jaebeom either.

"Hey, Chris. They'll be alright. There's nothing we can do from here." She brushed Chan's arm, who seemed to wince. He nodded, barely. At least she was there.

Despite Chan's best efforts, with everything happening, even a group as small as that started unbinding. Yugyeom wouldn't, for one second, let go of his girlfriend. He became irrational, in a way. Hectically looking over her shoulder; he wasted no second yelling at all his friends when something seemed unsafe. They ultimately had to understand him, as he was simply terrified of the idea that he could lose her. He gave up on everybody else, in a sense. Fate was too harsh on him, took away the time that he so desperately wanted to spend in a loving, peaceful manner with a significant other.

"Is he okay?" BamBam wasn't even trying to be quiet. They strolled the Halls of the JYP building. They put faith in that place to hold them safe, even if it was uncertain of its actually properties of holding back hordes of undeads. 

"He's absolutely terrified," She answered, looking down at the marble floor. They took a turn to find the storage room. "It's the first time I've been away from him for longer than 10 minutes."

"I mean, it's cute." Bam kept talking as the scanned the shelves. "But also highly annoying because he's acting like a child every time we mention how we're gonna need to get out of here eventually."

"Yeah, I know. He won't listen to Chan. Heck, he won't even listen to Mark - and he's probably the one with the most video game experience." BamBam chuckled at her remark.

They stacked a good amount of cans in their arms and headed out to get back to the others. Closing the door tightly, the corridors were white and quiet. BamBam grabbed the bag he previously left before the door, and opened it to reveal dirty silverware. It was his turn to wash it, so they stopped for the bathroom on the way. 

The water was spraying from the sink, resonating in that silence. At first, she thought it was a pipe malfunction. Something kept clicking, and screeching, but the more time passed, the more it sounded like glass; she wondered what Bam was doing in there. Calling him over, she regretted it exactly after - a splash of something, green, gooey, created a non-lit spot on the large windows. With dread, she turned around to find, the undead right there - was using some sort of fluids to stick to the window, roaming around the outside of the building. It's claws kept scratching the glass, but then the crevices we're filled with whatever bodily glue the creature was emanating.

As BamBam came out of the bathroom - the creature turned to look at them. She had to plaster a hand over Bam's mouth. They had never actually seen the creatures before, since they've always been locked up in the building. It felt like peace was once and for all over.

The creature sneered and cocked it's head, it seemed like it was almost smiling.

She and Bam stood motionless, holding their breath, for two, very long minutes before the creature became disinterested and climbed higher onto the building's window.

The problem was, the others were on the upper floor.

"Is taking the elevator a stupid idea or is stomping on the stairs even stupider?" Bambam fact checked, in a whisper.

"Are the stairs next to windows?"

"Yes."

"Elevator it is then."

They were shaking in their boots the entire ride. They kept expecting something movie like to happen - elevator turning off, a cord being broken, anything to bring them certain doom. But nothing happened.

As the doors dinged open however, there was a sudden gun shot. Yugyeom, Mark and Chan then came out running down the hall, b-lining to the elevator. BamBam held the doors open.  Shrieks were all they could hear, the elevator started rumbling, emergency lights turned on, and soon, they ran for their lives out of the JYP building. 

A billboard there, was blaring with sound, just across the street.

"This is an automatic message being transmitted non-stop to attract the creatures. They react to sound, I repeat, they react to sound. Security measures have been taken - it is strongly advised all unturned civilians move to the country side where the virus hasn't hit as much - we will send teams there shortly.

Every hour we send across two trains - one in the South with a loud alarm at the mid hour, to grab any stray monster's attention and allow you to get to the station - and one in the North, meant to collect survivors and take them to the country side. 

May luck be with you.”

"It's 15:17 right now..." Mark took ahold of Bambam's watch and read the time.

"Then, we hold out. Wait for the alarm train and try to get to the other station while it sounds." Chan motioned everyone to hide, as well as they could. Undeads roamed the streets, and they couldn't shoot another bullet. Chan was lucky to even remember there was a gun hidden in the head office. He didn't even question why it was there.

Exactly on time, the first train trudged on the railings. The monsters suddenly caught life from their mindless stroll, and pushed in the direction of the sound. They were walking all over each other, without any regards of harming each other. BamBam urged to say it, but to him undeads were straight up dumb.

On the low, quietly but fast, they passed by the back of the mass to make it to the train station. It was easy to get there with the empty, snowed in streets giving them no complications. The train station, wet and cramped, held no other survivors. Mark suggested that the others probably already left since they chose to lock themselves in a building instead of running...

However, something in Yugyeom seemed to change. He wasn't as much as a scaredy cat, but he was still protecting his girlfriend with all his will. Now, he was offering to go ahead on all instances even if he never shot a gun before. Scarily enough, he made Mark, Bam and Chan promise to always look after his girlfriend in case he never comes back; which was odd considering he had a mentality of wanting to spend every living second with her, just a few hours ago.

He, for the first time since the outbreak, held conversations without panicking, laughed with his friends, hugged them dearly. In fact, he didn't want a separate train compartment when the transportation method arrived. He wanted everyone in the same room, talking through the night. Chan grinned as he hung his arm around Yugyeom's shoulder, grateful for the sudden change. Still, Yugyeom wasn't letting go of his girlfriend's hand. It was a normal couple thing to do, Chan knew it. And for so much time, he couldn't imagine - that he'd continue to have his stomach twist seeing them together.

True to the news, there were barely any undead there. But if there were, suddenly another brave, human soul would shoot it dead immediately to clean the area. The fields were large and open, empty. They were greeted by the people there, introduced to the survivors - they had a chance at this. They settled into a pretty torn down warehouse at edge of the crops. Yugyeom insisted on that one because he liked the structure - had plenty of rooms which could be barricaded and approached from above. 

He looked at it, at the second floor, from his makeshift bed. He could barely make our little lights from the windows on the roof, but they reminded him of the good times.

It was around eleven pm on New Years, the house went quiet for a second. They were all split into groups, but Yugyeom and his girlfriend chose to be away for a bit, on the Christmas lights lit porch. It was chilly, but Yugyeom made sure to encase his girlfriend in a big back hug so the wind wouldn't affect her that much.

'Any new year resolutions?' Yugyeom spoke from above her, in a sweet tone. Even to this day, she still got surprised by how sweet and calm he could be one on one.

'Stay alive? I don't know. Just.... accomplish things.'

'Definitely.' Yugyeom laughed. 'I've got one.'

'Oh, you do? Wanna share? Or are you scared it's not gonna come true or something like that?'

'I think you're the only one that could make it come true.' For a second, she stood thinking.

'Me? Yuggie, you don't mean...'

'I know you don't like surprises so I thought I'd let you know. You still won't know exactly when, but... the ring's ready.'

'Oh my God, babe. I'll be waiting for it, then.'

Yugyeom span her around for a kiss, and she was sure there were tears in her eyes.

Tears streamed, and they wouldn't stop no matter what. The warehouse was dusty, but that wasn't the reason. Yugyeom pulled his girlfriend aside for a second, breaking off from the group. He had been hiding something, it was noticeable, but she felt her entire world crumble when he rose his shirt to reveal a gushing wound, pulsing with a green liquid. He was deeply scratched by an undead, and it wasn't a few minutes ago or anything like that, it happened when they got attacked in the JYPE building. He knew it was over for him, and he wanted to let his lover know first, before the others.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I know I, I promised. Promised a ring, a house, a dog, kids... I'm not even your husband yet but I'm a terrible one."

"Yugyeom, shut up, shut up for a second-! You're making this hurt even more..." Her reaction was that of a shock induced fury, she didn't know what to do with her arms, with her eyes, with her heart.

"Okay, I'll stop talking. You have all the rights to be mad." Yugyeom however, tried to keep calm. He knew how much this would hurt her. But he couldn't leave without telling her, it just wasn't right.

"No, no, no. I take it back. Don't stop talking. I want to hear your voice. Be here with me. Stay with me..." She didn't know if she could hold him close, she imagined he must be in a lot of pain. She clung to his shirt, and he knew she needed to feel him one more time, or until she can't no more; the pain didn't matter. Embraced like that, Yugyeom tried his best to keep it all in when Chan and the others called them back over. It wouldn't be something easy to hide, but he figured he should. Hide and run away before it was too late.

A few hours later, he realized it was perhaps too late to run. His mind wasn't as clear anymore - he couldn't really control his legs or keep balance. Everything about his body felt like it wasn't his anymore. He went to one of the rooms that would make it easy to trap him and eliminate him, and remained seated on the bed, with his back against the wall. He made his girlfriend promise she would leave, and lock the door. But she was seemingly dragging on time.

"You should get away from me." Yugyeom spoke. He felt his head twitch, involuntarily. "I don't think it'll be long now." 

"It's okay, baby. I'm, not leaving just yet." Both of them seemed calm, alike it was all a conversation over morning coffee.

"But you will, right? Don't let me hurt you." His voice was small, weak. The only thing that still functioned properly were his feelings, mouth was heavy to move, eyelids were refusing to open and close, but everything about him yelled how much he loved his girlfriend and wanted her to live on.

"You could never hurt me, love." She smiled, getting close to him. She sat on his lap, caressing his neck with her hands.

"You're a little...too...close." Yugyeom kept blinking at his lover, shaking his head. His sight was everywhere but where he wanted to focus it.

"Shush, hey. You must be tired. Let's take a little nap, okay?" She was sweet talking him, but Yugyeom was already losing consciousness. 

"Yeah, I'm... tired." The pain in his side throbbed, and his eyes went foggy. He looked at his lover and wrapped his hands around her, pulling her to his chest.

"I love you, Yuggie."

"Love you." He whispered. 

His ragged breathing evened out, and he fell into a silent state. So silent in fact, that his heart stopped beating. She knew it was coming, clutching his shirt she began sobbing, looking up at him one more time. The pigment of his skin was almost gone, but he was still gorgeous. The same man that she fell in love with so many years ago - peaceful like an angel, but it wouldn't last long. With an aching heart, she let her head drop back on his chest, her shoulders shaking with a sob from time to time.

Mark was about to call them over to share the rations, dragging the full team behind him. Upon arriving at the door, Mark screamed out Yugyeom's name in horror. His hair was disheveled, his lover gently running her fingers through it, his neck veins were bright green and radiating.

"Chan!" Mark yelled, in pure shock, and the Australian ran over. BamBam was close behind. He tip toed over to her, carefully touching her shoulder. Tears welled up in his eyes instantly.

They needed some time. A few minutes to let it sink in, to ask questions, but it wasn't like knowing how it happened would change the outcome. Mark and Bam began blaming themselves, apologizing over and over. Yugyeom's eyes were moving underneath his closed lids. A short snarl alerted everyone.

"Hey, you need to move." Chan was the only voice of reason in the situation. He might be hurting their feelings with what he was saying, but he needed to. There was no way he was losing someone else, especially the woman he had an unrequited love for the past years, but couldn't have.

"Don't touch me, Chan." She said somberly. He was taken aback by her tone, but kept pressing.

"Please don't do this. Come one, you need to let him go." He tried to squat down and empathize, while BamBam was sobbing in Mark's arms.

"I've lived a great life so far-" She began talking, but Mark interrupted her.

"You're not saying what I think you're gonna say." She glanced over but continued her sentence anyway.

"-and I'm really thankful you guys were in it. But my journey ends here." Chan's veins came to view, as he was visually getting reddened eyes trying to hold himself back.

"So you'll die for him?" He spat.

"No, I'll die with him." 

As on queue, Yugyeom's arms suddenly sprang to life and he grabbed onto her torso, way too harshly. She didn't even wince in pain. She caressed his face, arranging his loose strands of hair.

"Shhh, baby. You're okay. You're safe. I'm here." She had clearly, gone mad.

With no words left to say, Chan grabbed BamBam and Mark and left the room. He made his way to the armory, dragging the other two broken souls.

"Which one of us has the best aim?" Chan asked, loading a magazine into the emergency sniper.

"I do." Mark admitted. The answer was obvious to BamBam, unfortunately.

"The moment Yugyeom wakes up, shoot him." Chan articulated his words harshly. Mark blinked a few times; although he knew it was coming, he still wasn't sure if he could do it.

"What if I hit her?"

"You won't." Chan seemed very determined. He wasn't going to let her do this, even if it was her literal one last wish.

Inside the room, Yugyeom was getting fervent. He already shown his teeth, he was hissing and groaning. His hands were clawing at his girlfriend's body, who was still calm in his arms. Before anyone could even notice it - Yugyeom opened his green, blown out irises. He looked his lover straight in the eye before his teeth ripped through her neck. Blood gushed, dribbled out, but before he could pull out that chunk of meat he was trying to rip out, he stopped. Face full of blood, with the female on his knees, bleeding out from an artery, it was like he remembered something. He howled something out, in the form of a question. It sounded like "You do." 

Half on her way towards passing, she answered him.

"I do."

Alarmed by the howl, the group rushed to the door, but it was all too late. Yugyeom was hissing, looking at the ceiling, twitching his head. His eyes shone in that dirty dark. She was limp in his arms, but he was still holding her up, seemingly uninterested in attacking her further. In fact, he was disinterested in the group as well. He spared them a glance, before looking back up at the ceiling and then letting his head drop on top of his lover's, closing his eyes. 

From afar, they both looked peaceful. 

[queen-of-the-vampires]

waiting for superman

characters: stefan salvatore x reader

word count: 1,860

warnings: minor angst, fluff

summary: stefan is the superman you’ve been waiting for your entire life

beta: she wants to remain anonymous

square filled: waiting for superman by daughtry

author’s note: this is for my own song bingo and i am hosting a challenge on this blog, so if you’re a writer, and wan to participate, it would really mean a lot if you wanted to participate! if you have any requests, please send them in!

feedback the glue that holds my writing together

tags at the bottom

Falling in love way too easily is just one of the things you considered bad about yourself. There have been many dates with a lot of different men where you think things are going well, but they always end up not calling you, or they tell you they didn’t want to see you anymore. Each night ended all the same; you alone in your room, wondering what went wrong.

At first, you thought it was you, that you did or said something wrong. It would be the only thing on your mind the entire week after the date as you tried to figure out why these men weren't calling you back. If you didn’t hear from a guy and saw him on the streets the next day, he would always make some excuse as to why he never called you back. It broke your heart every time a man did that to you, but you were a romantic, and you couldn’t help but look for the same love you were trying to give out.

All you wanted was for Superman to sweep you off your feet. But, things just don’t happen like they do in the movies.

She’s watching the taxi driver, he pulls away She’s been locked up inside her apartment a hundred days

She says, “Yeah, he’s still coming, just a little bit late. He got stuck at the laundromat washing his cape.” She’s just watching the clouds roll by and they spell her name Like Lois Lane And she smiles, oh the way she smiles

Despite being let down every time, you still had hope that the next guy you went out with would be the one you stayed with forever. Getting out of the taxi, you smoothed down the sundress you wore with a smile on your face as you paid the driver cash for the ride.

“Whoever he is, I hope you have fun,” the driver said with a smile.

“Thank you,” you chuckled as he pulled away from the curb. The man who agreed to date you said to meet at the park, but you were a tad too early. Nothing wrong with that, so you took a seat on the park bench as you waited for him to show. Your brain was racing with a thousand thoughts, wondering if he would show. It wouldn't be the first time a man stood you up, but you liked to have hope that one day, one man, would be different.

People passed by you, and you kept looking at them in hopes of them being your date for the evening. After the third time you looked at your watch, you realized he was 45 minutes late. Sighing, you looked down at your dress as you ruffled the edges.

“He’s still coming, just a little late. He probably got stuck at the laundromat washing his cape,” you sighed as you spoke to yourself. ” Another 15 minutes went by, and you knew he wasn’t showing up. There’s always a next time, right? you thought to yourself as you flagged down a taxi.

“Hey, I remember you. Have fun on your date?” the same taxi driver asked you as you got in.

“Yeah, tons,” you lied with a fake smile on your face.

She’s talking to angels, Counting the stars Making a wish on a passing car She’s dancing with strangers, Falling apart Waiting for Superman to pick her up In his arms, yeah, in his arms, yeah Waiting for Superman

You lived in this fairy tale life, waiting and wishing on shooting stars that you would find the one for you. It’s what comes with being a hopeless romantic. Any man who gave you the slightest bit of attention caught your interest because you were so desperate for their attention. You’ve been alone for so long, you were desperate for their affection, craving it like a drug addict.

Every week, it’s always a new guy, a stranger you never met before. As you’re with him, all you could think about is the man who was meant for you, somewhere out there in the world. Hope blossomed in your chest when you were with your date that he might be the one, but when the end of the night came, it was always the same.

She says, “Yeah, he’s still coming, just a little bit late. He got stuck at the Five and Dime saving the day.” She says, "If life was a movie, then it wouldn’t end like this, Left without a kiss.” Still, she smiles, oh, the way she smiles, yeah

As you wait for your new date to show, you think to yourself, as he’s running late, He’s just a little late. He’ll be here this time. He’s probably stuck at the Five and Dime, saving the day. This time, he shows, and you two have a lot of fun on the date. He spent the whole time making you laugh, treating you like a princess, and made you feel like a million bucks. You two had a lot in common, and you thought that maybe he was the one.

He walked you home at the end of the night, and, as you stared at him all he did was smile, and say, “Let’s do this again sometime” before leaving. He walked off without a kiss on the lips or the cheek, and you could feel your heart breaking just a little. Everyone knows what “let’s do that again sometime” really means.

He wasn’t the one.

“If life was a movie, then it wouldn’t end like this… left without a kiss,” you whispered as you headed inside your house. ”

She’s talking to angels, Counting the stars Making a wish on a passing car She’s dancing with strangers, She’s falling apart Waiting for Superman to pick her up In his arms, yeah, in his arms, yeah She’s waiting for Superman…

…to lift her up and take her anywhere Show her love and flying through the air Save her now before it’s too late tonight Oh, at the speed of light And she smiles

Left on the bench by the park again. Another date, another man, another night of tears and feelings of loneliness. Maybe that was your M.O. Maybe, you were destined to end up alone. Not everyone had a soulmate, and not everyone finds love. Maybe, you were one of those people. Lost in thought, you didn’t notice a big furball heading your way until you felt a wet nose at your bare leg. Looking down, you saw a beautiful golden retriever staring at you.

“Hi buddy, how are you?” you asked the dog as if he could answer. Instead of using words, the dog put its paws on your shorts, leaned up and licked your face. Laughing, you put both hands on his head as you scratched behind his ears.

“You’re just so friendly,” you said as you noticed a collar and a tag on him. Pulling away, you read the tag to see what his name was and who he belonged to. “Bailey.” The dog barked in response to you saying his name, and you pulled out your phone to call the number engraved on the tag. Before you could dial, you heard the dog’s name being called as his owner came rushing at you.

“Bailey! There you are! I am so sorry!” a man said. Looking up, you locked eyes with a beautiful man who sported bright green eyes and light brown hair. He was tall, from what you could see but put him next to you and he was the perfect height. The dog got off you and look at his owner with his tongue out.

“Don’t worry about it,” you blushed as you pet Bailey’s head one last time before his owner could put a leash on him.

“We’re trying to go for leashless walks. I don’t think he’s ready yet,” he chuckled.

“It’s no problem. I love dogs, and he seems really friendly.”

“Yeah, he is. I’m Stefan, by the way,” he introduced himself as he held out his hand. Taking it, you shook it slowly since you were kind of in shock from his presence.

“Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Again, sorry about that.”

“It’s okay it’s not a problem.”

“Well, have a good day,” he said politely as he started to walk away with his dog. Sighing softly, you looked at your watch once more before realizing your date wasn’t going to show. Guess it’s another night in the bathtub with wine. As Stefan looked back at you, he watched as you looked at your watch with a frown. Your shoulders slumped in disappointment, and he knew that you had been stood up. No one should go through what you clearly went through a bunch of times. He didn't know why someone would stand you up because he saw a very beautiful woman. Looking at Bailey, his dog seemed to give him the courage he needed as he nudged his leg to go back to you.

“Uh, Y/N?”

“Yes?” you asked as you looked up at Stefan.

“Would you like to join me? Bailey seems to really like you, and it gets boring with no one to talk to. I’ll buy you some ice cream or something to eat if you’re hungry?” The look in his eyes told you he was being sincere with his offer. Looking at your watch once more, you decided to screw it and go with the stranger. At least you would have someone to talk to.

“I’d like that. It gets boring just sitting here and watching the world pass you by,” you chuckled. The two of you left the park bench comfortable as Bailey walked between you two.

“So, you from around here?” he asked.

“Yeah, I live about six blocks away from here. Nice city, and it’s not overly crowded. What about you?”

“I just moved here recently. I’m trying to get used to the parks since I go running in the morning, and would like to know my way around.”

“Well, I’m almost always here, so we’re bound to run into each other sometime.”

“I hope I didn’t steal you away from something important. Were you waiting for someone?”

“Um, no. Nothing important going on here,” you lied, hoping he couldn’t hear the disappointment in your voice.

“Look, I hope I’m not too forward or anything, but the guy who stood you up is a jerk.”

“What?” you whispered, not believing your ears.

“The guy who stood you up? Yeah, he doesn’t know what he’s missing. From what I can tell, you’re amazing and very beautiful,” he spoke the truth. A small smile formed on your face once your brain processed his words. ”

“Thanks, Stefan.”

“Now, come on, I think I can hear ice cream call our names,” he chuckled as he guided you to the nearest ice cream shop. For some weird reason, fate, or whatever you wanted to call it, Bailey approaching you in the park was the best thing that could have happened to you because you think you just found your superman.

wanna be tagged? add yourself to this document! if your tag doesn’t work, find out why!

@jae-sch @choosemyname @cuddlyklaus @sotmperrie  @akshi8278 @liberty01 @gh0stgurl @schwankyblock @honeybums-blog @kendall-michele @kpoplover1306-depressedgirl315 @miraclesoflove

[crazy-little-cool-cat]

Hand in Glove - Chapter 15 | Ben Hardy x OFC

A/N: This took a while but it’s finally here, yay!

Word count: ~3.1K

Warnings: Slight smut, lots of fluff, swearing like a sailor. 

Chapter 1, Chapter 2,  Chapter 3,  Chapter 4,  Chapter 5,  Chapter 6,  Chapter 7,  Chapter 8,  Chapter 9,  Chapter 10,  Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14

“What are you looking at over there?” Ben peeked over Annie’s shoulder at her phone.

“Pinterest.”

“Oh.” Ben rolled back to his spot on the bed, clearly disinterested.

“Clara told me to check it out when I talked about how bored I am,” Annie switched off her screen and put her phone on her bedside table. “All alone at home…” she traced her finger along Ben’s veiny arm. “With nothing to do.”

“Hmm.” Ben glanced sideways at her, a small smirk tugging on the corners of his mouth.

“There’s a lot of really cool stuff on there.” Annie’s voice was dangerously low.

“Yeah?” Ben turned his head to face her, his eyes hooded.

“Mhm.” Annie nodded. “Lots of new things I want to try.”

“Like what?” Ben leaned closer to Annie, his breath ghosting over her face. Toying when the hem of the t-shirt she stole from him, he closed the gap between them, biting on her bottom lip before kissing her.

“Knitting.”

“That sounds…” Ben started pressing kisses down her neck and stopped. “Did you say knitting?”

“I did.”

“Knitting.”

“Yeah, you know.” Annie giggled. “Wool, needles. The whole shebang.”

“Um, alright.”

“I just want to make something for her.” Annie shrugged. “Might as well, right?”

###

“Ben, look at this!” Annie grabbed Ben’s arm to get his attention. “Look!”

“Annie, please,” Ben whined, “I’m absolutely shattered!”

Annie looked at her boyfriend and grimaced. His eyes were bloodshot red, with dark circles under them. He could barely keep them open. His blond, soft hair was sticking up in all directions, and he couldn’t stop yawning.

“I’m sorry…” Annie pouted and let go of his arm.

“Oh, don’t give me that look!” Ben groaned before his mouth opened in a big yawn.

“No, it’s fine. I’m sorry.” Annie put her phone away and laid down.

She rolled over on her side. Ben instinctively cuddled up behind her. With one arm under his pillow and one over Annie, he sighed.

“Did you finish knitting that blanket, yet?” Ben mumbled into her hair, rubbing lazy shapes on her bump.

“No,” Annie whispered back, “it was all crooked. I hated it. I’m making some wall decor now.”

“Annie, it wasn’t crooked!” Ben chuckled. “I mean, not as bad as you think…”

“It was awful!”

“She would love it even if it was nothing but a string.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck and felt her take in a shaky breath. “Annie?”

“It’s just -” Annie quickly wiped tears away from her face.

“Oh, no, no…” Ben murmured and laced his fingers with Annie’s. “No tears. Please.”

“I just love you a lot, okay?”

###

Ben stood in the middle of the kitchen, running his hand through his hair. With closed eyes, he took in a deep breath. He spent the last two minutes trying to figure out where the plates went.

“Annabelle?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you organise the kitchen?” he hoped his voice sounded nonchalant.

“Yeah!” Annie called from the living room. “Doesn’t it make so much more sense now?”

Ben squeezed his lips between his index finger and his thumb.

“Plus, now I can reach things!”

“Annie,” Ben clenched his fists. “Where are the bloody plates?”

“Second cupboard to the left!”

“No,” Ben could hear his stomach growling, “no, they’re not there.”

“Yes they are.”

“Annabelle Lee.” Ben hissed through clenched teeth. “I’ve been here for much too long and I need food. Where the fuck are my plates?”

“Second bloody cupboard to the bloody left!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Ben muttered before he raised his voice. “They are not in the second fucking cupboard to the motherfucking left, Annabelle. The second goddamn cupboard is wide open. No plates.”

“First of all!” He could hear Annie approach. “Don’t you use that fucking language when you’re talking to me.”

“Annie, I’m absolutely famished -”

“Second of all, I meant the lower cupboard.” Annie walked around Ben and opened the right cupboard. “Ta-da! Plates!”

“Thank fucking God!”

“Fuck you, too, Ben!”

“Are you upset?”

“Why would I be?” Annie shrugged. “It’s not as if my boyfriend’s potty mouth was directed at me because he can’t control his temper when he’s hungry.”

“As soon as I get some grub in this belly,” Ben waved his spoon around as he spoke, “I’ll make it up to you.”

###

“What about this one?” Ben pointed, “do you like this one?”

“These prices are absolutely ridiculous!” Annie whisper-screamed at Ben as they trudged along Baby Depot, this time without Joe. “What a rip-off!”

“I thought you liked shopping.”

“I do!” Annie walked around yet another changing table, opening and closing little drawers and compartments, “but this? This is a bloody scam, is what it is!”

“You said it yourself, love.” Ben carefully read the label attached to the changing table, informing himself on all safety features and possible gimmicks included in the product, “baby stuff is expensive.”

“I can build this myself, for crying out loud!” Annie blushed slightly under Ben’s intense gaze. “What?”

“You used a hot glue gun and destroyed four pairs of my socks when you tried to make our daughter a puppet.”

“It was an honest mistake!”

“Four pairs, Annie.”

“It’s a learning curve!” Annie crossed her arms over her chest. “Plus, it’s a bit hard to maneuver around with a bloody watermelon attached to your midriff!”

“You need to stay out of Pinterest.”

“You need to not think you can tell me what to do.” Annie muttered and rolled her eyes.

“But Annie,” Ben patted the changing table, “do you like this one?”

“I think it’s cute and I love it.” Annie muttered.

“That’s all I wanted to know.”

###

Annie and Ben sat on the floor in their new house, after accepting the baby furniture delivery and having ordered in some lunch. The entire house was empty of furniture and they could hear the echo of their satisfied hums and moans as they bit into their food, smiling sheepishly at each other.

“You sure you want to stay here?” Ben set his now empty container aside and wiped his fingers on a napkin, “it’s okay if you don’t.”

“It’s fine, Ben.” Annie gently pushed Frankie’s head away. “We hardly ever get alone time together. I’d sit and watch paint dry with you.”

“Pregnancy made you soft.” Ben smirked and crawled on his hands and knees over to Annie’s side.

“Did it?”

“Oh, definitely.” Ben propped his knees up and crossed his legs, wrapping his arms around his knees. “I don’t hate it.”

“Duly noted.”

“Come on, I should get started.” Ben hopped up on his feet and helped Annie up.

“I’ll just take Frankie out to the garden and join you.” Annie hastily kissed his chest and walked off, whistling to the pup.

Ben watched her from behind the glass sliding door. A soft gust of wind blew Annie’s hair up and around her, and she shook her head to get it out of the way. Her long, flowy cobalt blue maxi dress billowed around and clung to her legs. She laughed as she watched Frankie trot around, sniffing every leaf and twig she could find. Frankie wagged her tail so hard, her entire body was swinging along with it. Her ears flopped up and down.

As much as he wanted to stay and admire Annie from afar, he wanted to get the furniture assembly out of the way as fast as he could. He walked up the stairs, glancing back over his shoulder.

###

Annie couldn’t help but wonder whether she will ever stop being endlessly horny. She couldn’t tell if it was a pregnancy side-effect or just Ben’s influence over her. It could very well have been a winning mix of both.

Ben’s biceps flexed as he worked. His jeans rode lower and lower on his hips as he kneeled on the floor. His brows were furrowed as he carefully read the instructions and muttered profanities when they didn’t seem to make any sense. His hair was messy from running his fingers through it. His tight fitting t-shirt clung to his body in all the right places. Annie was bewitched.

“Love, could you pass me that screw?” Ben twirled the screwdriver as if it was one of his drumsticks.

“Hm?” Annie shook her head lightly and blinked.

“Screw.” Ben kept twirling the screwdriver. “I need it.”

“You and I both.” Annie mumbled as she reached over and grabbed the twisty metal, grunting as she heaved herself up. A thought popped up in her head. She bit her bottom lip as she smiled mischievously. “You need a screw, Ben?”

Ben stopped moving altogether at the tone of her voice. The same tone that causes blood to rush from his head to his other head, as Annie so fondly referred to it sometimes. Annie walked around him, bending over slightly as her hand hovered over his. Ben instinctively outstretched his palm open and caught the screw when it fell.

“Thank you.” Ben looked up at Annie as she towered over him. She angled her body so her baby bump won’t get in between them as they stared each other down. “Actually, I might need another one.”

“Yeah?” Annie’s voice was raspy.

She looked at Ben through hooded eyes, her breath catching when his tongue poked out to lick his lips. Ben’s eyes stayed fixed on hers as he tossed the screw and screwdriver aside and snaked his hands under the hem of her dress. His fingers trailed up her legs and thighs, gently scratching and squeezing at her. Ben shuffled closer to Annie on his knees, tilting his head a bit as he sat back on his heels.

He hooked his fingers around the waistband of her panties and slid them down, painfully slow. He could hear Annie scoff impatiently and pressed a lingering kiss over her dress, right under her belly button. When she felt his fingers graze her ankles, she stepped out of her undergarment and followed it with her gaze as it slid aside on the hardwood floor.

Ben hiked her dress up with one hand and worked his way up the inside of her legs with the other, leaving trails of goosebumps as he climbed further up. Just when Annie reached down to lace her fingers through his hair, he ducked his head under the bunched up fabric and let it fall on his back. Gently nibbling at her thighs, he pushed her legs a little further apart, making room for himself.

Annie could feel his warm breath on her skin and shivered. She looked around her for something to hold on to but the walls were too far behind her and to the side, and the crib was definitely not stable yet. A light panic washed over her before she felt Ben’s tongue on her. With a loud gasp, she almost lunged forward as her knees buckled, but Ben quickly reached a hand up for her to grab and wrapped his arm around her, giving her butt a reassuring squeeze.

“Ben.” Ben’s lips and tongue worked her as if it was his life’s mission. Every gasp, every moan, every spasm of Annie’s thighs egged him on, making his cock impossibly harder. “Ben.”

“Mm?” he hummed, his lips sucking at her clit.

“Are you going to get that screw or not?”

###

The Google alerts were going off like cannonfire. It seemed like every few minutes, another article came out. Annie rushed up the stairs, Frankie close at her heels, holding her dress up to avoid face-planting before she reached the nursery, where Ben worked on the last piece of furniture.

“What the fuck?” Annie barked, out of breath, clutching the door frame. “What the fuck?”

“What?”

“Are we hearing wedding bells?” Annie read the headline aloud. “Hardy and Lee - tying the knot?” Annie snarled at the words.

“So what?”

“So what?!”

“Yeah, so fucking what?” Ben shrugged as he continued working. “Annie, you’re practically my wife already. Let them have their fun.”

“I’m practically your wife?”

“Well, I mean -”

“I have to pee.” Annie’s anger seemed to vanish at the blink of an eye. “You’re just about done, yeah?”

“Almost, yeah.” Ben nodded and finally looked at his girlfriend. “Shouldn’t be longer than a few more minutes and then we’ll head home.”

###

“Annie!”

Ben’s roar woke Annie from her nap on the sofa. She rubbed her face groggily and rolled off, stretching as she walked over to the bedroom. Her eyes widened at the unexpected sight in front of her. Ben stood, stark naked, in the middle of the bedroom, seething.

“You rang?” Annie giggled.

“Where the fucking hell are my pants?” Ben hissed, his hands firmly planted on his hips, giving her a full frontal view of his godlike body. Her eyes darted down to his crotch and a cheeky smirk tugged at her lips. “Don’t you even dare, you little minx!”

“Don’t wave it in my face then!”

“Annie, focus.” He marched up to her and pushed her chin up with his fingers, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “Pants.”

“Dresser.”

“I checked the dresser.” Ben let her chin go. “It’s not there.”

“Didn’t you listen to anything I said?” Annie rolled her eyes and stomped over to the dresser. “I explained it all last night.”

“After a 14 hour long workday?” Ben raised an eyebrow. “Forgive me, it must have slipped my mind.”

“You said you got it!”

“I lied!” Ben shrugged. “T’was the only way to get you to let me get some fucking sleep!”

“Oh, sod off!” Annie rolled her eyes and pulled a drawer open, balling up Ben’s favorite grey sweatpants. She walked up to him, shoving them against his chest. “There.”

###

“Can I ask you something?” Ben handed Annie some more bubble wrap before celo-taping another cardboard box shut.

“Of course.”

“Will you ever want to marry me?” Ben asked, biting the inside of his cheek as he waited for an answer.

“For fuck’s sake.” Annie muttered and dropped the roll of bubble wrap. “You promised not to do this.”

“What?”

“Propose.”

“I’m not.”

“You just used will, you, marry and me in the same bloody sentence, you absolute twat!”

“I wasn’t proposing, Annie.” Ben’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why is it such a horrible thing, though?”

“What?”

“Annie, we bought a house. We’re about to have a baby.” Ben’s eyes followed her as she walked out of the kitchen. “Oh, great. Go ahead, run off.”

“I am not your wife.” Annie froze in her tracks. “You are not my husband.”

“Would it really be so bad if I was?”

“Why are you doing this?” Annie turned around. “What are you trying to get, here?”

“Answers!” Ben raised his voice in frustration. “Where are we going, Annie?”

“Pardon?”

“Where are we going?” Ben crossed his arms. “Where is this going?”

“You said it yourself.” Annie shrugged. “We bought a house. We’re about to have a baby.”

“What difference would marriage make, then?”

“Ben, don’t.”

“No, I need to know.” Ben’s entire demeanor hardened. “What’s got you so terrified that the mere mention of the word is so unbearable to you?”

“I already told you.”

“I’m not your asshole dad.” Ben’s body softened. “I’ll never hurt you. Or our child. Children.” He walked over to her, slowly. “I will never. Not all marriages are like that.”

“It’s not just about him.”

“What, then?”

“I’m not doing this.” Annie pursed her lips and turned.

###

Annie stood in front of her wardrobe. She decided it was best to keep away from Ben and went about packing her clothes while he finished packing up the kitchen. She pulled a hanger off the rail and stared at the long, black dress. Lost in thought, she stood there, clutching the dress.

“Are you hungry?” She heard Ben asked, but didn’t turn around. Or acknowledge his presence in any way. Her eyes were stuck on that dress. “Look, I know you’re upset with me bringing up the M word but this is just immature.” Ben walked up behind her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Seriously.”

“Jesus!” Annie hissed, startled.

“Oh, sorry!” Ben giggled. “What you got there?”

“It’s just this dress.” Annie turned around, still holding up the hanger. Ben reached over and held the dress by the sides, letting it slide in his grip. He smiled when he saw the deep slits on each side.

“Haven’t seen this one in a while.”

“Do you recognize it?”

“It’s what you wore when we first met.” Ben smiled, his eyes flickering from the dress to his girlfriend. “You looked so bloody good in this.”

“I’m genuinely impressed!” Annie chuckled.

“It’s one of my favorite memories.” Ben bit his bottom lip. “Seeing your legs fly out the sides and around Gwil. All I could think about was that I wanted you to wrap yourself around me like that.”

“What?”

“I was so bloody jealous of Gwil.” Ben sat on the edge of the bed. “I mean, until he said you were his cousin. Then I was just relieved. And pleasantly surprised.”

“Why were you surprised?”

“When he told us about you, he never mentioned what you looked like.” Ben patted the mattress next to him, inviting Annie to sit with him. “Don’t get me wrong, Gwilym is very handsome, so it was a given that you would be good looking. But then?” Ben took the hanger from Annie and set it aside, “you took my breath away. You still do.”

“God, that’s so cheesy.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true.” Ben shrugged. “You didn’t even have to say anything. You already had me just by looking at me. Looking like that.”

“Please,” Annie rolled her eyes, “you weren’t in love with me.”

“Oh, no.” Ben’s eyes seemed to darken with lust. “I was drunk and horny and you were the most beautiful, fittest bird I’d ever seen. I had a raging boner the rest of the night.”

“So romantic!”

“Annie,” Ben gulped, hesitantly, “I know why you hate the idea of marriage, and believe me, I’m not a fan of weddings myself -”

“I know.”

“But I like the idea of knowing that there’s something that binds us together, you know?” he laced his fingers with hers.

“Creating an actual human isn’t binding enough?”

“It is,” Ben chuckled, “but it isn’t. I need the symbolism. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“Ben…”

“I’m not asking anything. I’m just letting you know.”

“Okay.” Annie sighed. “Now I know.”

“Think of all the Pinterest ideas!” Ben mumbled and laughed when Annie smacked the back of his head playfully.

“Oh, fuck me!” Annie groaned suddenly.

“Don’t mind if I do!” Ben bit his bottom lip and leaned in to kiss her neck.

“No, you wanker!” Annie gently pushed him. “I just realized something.”

“What’s that?”

“I met the love of my life, whom I’m having a baby with but will probably never marry, at a bloody wedding.”

“The irony.” Ben snorted. “Wait, probably?”

TAGLIST: @ramibaby @xgoingdownx @clara-who @violetpond @sweeterthancheese @drummerqueenrmt @westansstuff @rogerinamainbitch @justgivemethekeys  @blondecarfucker @cheeseedreams47 @rogerspoison @deacy-dearest @pinkmarvel @onceuponadetectivedemigod @darcyshire

[spacereadinglesbian]

35 reasons why I love you

Summary: TJ hasn’t really seemed like himself for about three days. Cyrus tries everything to wrap his mind around it but he can’t. So he decides to write a list on why he is son important to him. (This is a spin off of 45 reasons by Theo @you-get-to-exhale-now-Cyrus, please check her fic our! )

Word count: 1882

1. You’re kind


The first real interaction we ever had together, you were nothing but kind to me. You took time out of your day to talk to some nerd who was all sweaty on a swing set, for what? For a split second I thought you were there to make fun of me, to laugh at how I look but you surprised me. You sat down and talked to me, and that’s the day I realized you were kind. It’s been over 4 years and you haven’t stop showing me kindness. It’s not even just me you show kindness to now, you’ve expanded and now your kindness radiates off of you like the sun on the lake during summer. You’re the kindest person I know.

2. You ask about my day
No matter how shitty your day is, you make sure that you ask about my day. At first I thought it was a courtesy thing, but you actually listen to my answer. You listen to every word I say, and hang onto them like a needle on a thread.

3. You have a special smile reserved for me
You’re smile is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and if I can make you smile for the rest of your life, I promise I will. 


4. You’re intelligent
God, you’re so intelligent. You can state history facts off the tip of your tongue, and you have a quote from literature for almost any situation. Even in math your excelling, you took the hardship and got help, even when you didn’t want to. You’re doing amazing now Teej, and I couldn’t be more proud.

5. You’re sympathetic 
You care. You care more than any person I’ve met. That day when I came home because my dog died, you were there holding me and reminding me that I was going to be okay. When Andi and Amber had their first fight, you comforted Amber then were at Andi Shack in a matter of 10 minutes. And Buffy. When Buffy has a problem with Marty she doesn’t ask me, she asks you, that’s a huge step, especially for her. And when Jonah has panic attacks, he talks to you. You’re the first person he goes to, he says he does it because you’re the best listener, I agree. 


6. You don’t put hair gel in you hair when it’s just us


7. You’re incredible with kids 
Whenever I go to bring you lunch at work you have at least two children clinging to your leg. They say that Mr.TJ is the best gym instructor they’ve ever had. 


8. You’re strong
When your parents went through that divorce you were the glue that held the family together while you were also falling apart. You kept it together in front of your mom, your little brother, and Amber. You said they needed at least one man that wouldn’t screw them over. You were only 15 at the time but wanted to make sure everyone was taken care of. You’re the strongest person I know.

9. You’re a great story teller
Damn I could listen to your stories all day, every day. The amount of detail you go into when you’re telling story and the little light in your eyes when you realize somebody actually cares about it is breathtaking.

10. You’re warm 
When I’m cuddling with you I don’t even need a blanket. I think you’re so warm because you have such a warm heart, but that's just my personal opinion.


11. You make the best coffee


12. You can ramble about history for hours

13. Glasses 
When you wake up from a nap and have your hair misplaced and your glasses on you look like the softest little teddy bear. 


14. You care about the environment 
Do you remember the day when we had a beach date? We didn’t even end up swimming, we ended up picking up as much trash as we possibly could on the beach. And after that, your smile was radiating so we went to a different beach and picked that one up too. I also gave up beef for you because your love for the environment is so infectious, and you know how much I loved hamburgers.

15. You respect and love your mom 
I’ve never seen someone have so much respect for their mom. I don’t know if its because you’re a respectful person or because of everything your mom has done for you. From being a single mom to accepting you when you came out. All I know is that you look at her like she holds the world, and you’re not wrong because she held you for 9 months and now you’re my world.


16. You text me to make sure I get home safe 
Nobody has ever taken the time to make sure I get home safe every single time I leave them, it just reminds me how lucky I am to have you.

17. You’re an awful person to watch sad movies with. Yeah I said it. You get so emotional while watching sad movies we always end up changing them, but I don’t mind because I hate thinking about sad things when I’m with you. 


18. You collect socks 
Whenever I have a bad day I look at your socks. You always have something cool on them whether it’s dogs, or basketballs, but my personal favorite are the ones with unicorns.


19. You don’t have one plain pair of sheets 
You say that if you fall asleep on plain sheets your brain doesn’t get enough imagination. Now I know why you’re such a creative person


20. Every time we are out we have to get your dog a new toy 
I swear Bonnie has at least 30 toys all from you. “Cy, we have to go get her a toy! We went out without her she’s going to hate us!” Every time I cave. 


21. You like to capture the moment
At first I hated it that you took so many pictures, I always said “let’s live in the moment.” But you always wanted to take at least one picture. Now I’m lucky that you did that, we have a picture from every movie night to every date.


22. You have soft hands 
I always take your hands in mine because they are so soft, I just can’t help it, plus I love playing with your fingers.


23. Your eyes light up when you talk about something you love
I don’t know if you know this, but you get a sparkle in your eye whenever you talk about something you care about. That’s why I watch history documentaries with you and help you pick up beaches. I never want to see your eyes without sparkle.


24. You don’t half ass shit 
No matter how hard something is, you give it your all. You put everything you have into it, I can’t help but admire that part of you. 


25. You’ve worked for everything you have 
You have worked since you were 14 years old, almost nobody does that. You pay for your phone bill, you’re gas, and your car insurance, and you still beg to pay while we’re on dates. 


26. You volunteer at the elementary school
Every Wednesday you read to a second grade class, I don’t know why you do it, you’ve never told me, but I know it holds a special place in your heart. 


27. You’re an incredible brother
You always help Cooper with his homework when you get home from school. You’re always there to talk to him, you even talk to him about girl troubles even though in your words “I have no experience”. And Amber. Oh my god you’re such an incredible brother to Amber. You’re there for her to talk to or yell at, or use as a punching bag when needed. You even letter put makeup on you when she wants to try something new, you’re the only person I know who lets their sister do that.

28. You’re a good cuddler
That’s it, that’s the whole reason. 


29. You put your friends first 
Ever since we adopted you into our friend group you’ve cared about everyone. If they look down you make sure to text them ask them privately, if they are having a hard family time you offer them to stay at your house. You treat everybody like family, it’s one of the many reasons I love you. 


30. You always offer to pay 
Even though I got a job, you still offer to pay, ALWAYS! We have to rock, paper, scissor, it out every time to decide who gets to pay.

31. You’re a great captain
Ever since 8th grade you’ve respected your teammates and you made sure they get the attention they need. You put your practices first, you’re kind to every single person, you even have game nights once a month at your house.

32. You have a good relationship with my family 
My mom literally treats you like her own son, she always asks why you aren’t at the house and when you’re coming over next. My dad asks when your games are and shows up to every one, he always tells me how great you are basketball. He’s thankful that one day he might have a son that loves sports just as much as he does.

33. God, you have really soft lips 


34. You’re sincere 
I feel like I’ve already said this, but I guess I’ll say it again, you love with your whole heart and nothing less. You care about people, you truly care about people TJ and it shows, you’re just an incredible person.


35. You’re the most important thing in my life 
From the day I met you I knew you were special. I knew you held a special place in my heart and I didn’t know why. Then I got to know you, I really got to know you and I started to understand why my heart felt so full while you were around. It’s because of everything that I’ve listed and more. When I’m not with you, you’re all I think about, and when I’m with you I think about the next time I can see you. I think about your voice, and your eyes. I think about how soft your lips feel on mine. I think about when you giggle and try to hide it by covering your mouth with your hand. God Theodore, i just think about you. I think about what I would do without you, and my mind goes blank because I can’t. I can’t see myself without you by my side. You are the most important thing in my life, and I love you more than you can ever imagine. And all I want for you is to be happy.

Love always,

Cyrus

[utterlyhopeful-fics]

Mission Complete

To Anon who requested Angel Reyes + cheating. This was too much fun, I LIVE for angst. 

Angel Reyes x Reader 

Warnings: language, angst, cheating, sexual content

Word Count: 1.7k

*************************************************

Her pink polished nails burrowed into the crevice of Angel’s lower back, temporarily imprinting his imminent mistake onto his flesh just as her throaty moan fell on deaf ears. Angel Reyes described himself as the textbook definition of a selfish asshole which, is exactly why he found himself beneath someone else, someone completely opposite of his girl, Y/N. Her perfume suffocated his senses as he sunk deeper into her, unable to stop his own moans slipping through his lips. He was officially a piece of shit boyfriend, but his inner thoughts screamed at him to feel wanted. Even if it was by the wrong person. Angel was a man who reveled in power, craving complete submission, and tonight was his form of freedom. Every sound was different, genuine intimacy was out the window as his lustful instincts overtook him. Hiding her away in his judgment-free zone, stupidly picturing Y/N as he came, the girl he never deserved, but he made a choice, and for that came cruel consequences he wasn’t willing to admit were an option just yet. 

Angel’s abdomen tightened as his ecstatic end came to a finish, sweat glistening like glue between their overheated bodies. That was the tricky thing to secrets, they weighed heavily as we adapted to carrying them, forever, no matter the cost of their burdens.  Angel caressed her hips before moving her off his lap, his bubble of bliss nothing but a puddle of destruction in this inevitable aftermath. As he reached for his boxers, he felt her lips kissing along his neck.

“Get the fuck out already, will ya? Y/N will be here shortly.”

“Easy jackass, I can’t find my underwear. Where the fuck did you throw them, Papi?” 

Angel couldn’t even muster up enough energy to remember the poor girl’s name minus that he chose her for no reason whatsoever, an entrance into oblivion. He required a warm body, someone who didn’t know shit about his fucked-up life, and was able to silence his thoughts, if only for a little bit.

“Olvídalo (Forget it). You know where the door is.”

“You really are a piece of shit Angel Reyes. I can’t believe Y/N hasn’t dumped your ass by now.” A devilish grin mirrored upon her caked features as he noticed her smeared lipstick.

Bile rose in his throat as his words ascended through the humid air, watching it all slip from his grasp, and he didn’t do a damn thing to stop it.

“Me neither. Thanks for the ride sweetheart.”

Internally, Angel couldn’t mute his mind any further and sighed as Y/N face stormed behind his closed lids. He knew Y/N would be worried about him by now, she was structure, beauty, and, imperfectly resilient. Always better to reign in hell, anyways.

Shit, he sighed, finally releasing his breath he didn’t realize was entangled in his lungs. Y/N would be here in 15 minutes as the guilt only began its descended coil within his gut. Angel exulted in self- hatred, but not all monsters were that way in the beginning.

Y/N’s POV

Just as his trailer came into sight, electricity surged as her excitement started to build, this was her favorite part of any day, being in his presence. She took in his unkempt facade; Angel’s forehead was beaded in sweat as his cheeks were flushed red almost like he had just finished a marathon. Odd, but still she found this man to be downright irresistible. Y/N stepped closer to him, wrapping her arms closely around his neck, unable to hide the smile that made its way to her lips.

“I missed you today.” Before he could comprehend, she was already pressed against him as the edge of her lips found his, and he couldn’t help but give in to the courageous woman standing in front of him.  

“Lo siento baby, you know better than anyone how knee deep in shit we are?” He prayed to whoever was foolish enough to listen to his prayers that forgiveness was on the table, but he should have known by now that everything he ever cherished, he tainted; given enough time.

­ “Que paso mi amor?” Her brow uneasily raised, she knew him like the back of her hand, and he was mere seconds away from destroying her.  Finally meeting her eyes, Angel guided her to sit on his bed, all while taking her hand into his, memorizing every detail he took for granted. Unexpectedly, her steps stopped as she eyes found their intertwined fingers, nervousness finally making its appearance.

“Sometimes it feels better to just not talk at all. Please just – listen to me. I love you so goddamn much.”

“Something’s tearing you up on the inside. Man the fuck up and spit it out.” Worry laced her tone as she nervously shifted from one foot to the other, unable to calm the quaking in her heart. If his eyes told her anything, war was about to crumble upon them.

“You wanna be in a relationship and I can’t seem to stay in one. You should know by now that I care about your feelings more than mine which is why what I’m about to admit is terrifying.”

Her mind sputtered to a halt as she processed what Angel was exactly trying to convey to her. Her words were locked behind her lips uncertain of the situation in front of her, as her body had become her own personal prison. She stuttered as she spoke, unease shaking her to her core before forming the one sentence she never wanted to muster.

“Did you sleep with someone?” He absolutely hated when she cried, but he loathed himself fully when her chin quivered. The true kicker was when he reached for her and she flinched from his touch, a touch she so deeply craved, one she didn’t realize came with an expiration date detailed in the fine print. This was the one moment Angel wished the cement floor could swallow him whole. He was indeed a glutton for punishment, and the reaper was fast approaching.

She made her way towards his disheveled bed, nausea churning in her chest as she thought about another girl being in his arms. Her back was faced away from him as she couldn’t help but notice the unwarranted red undergarment lazily tossed by her sweatshirt. A sweatshirt she had left behind since they started spending more nights together. Y/N reached for the offensive item before fiercely stalking his way, rage taking ahold of her.

“It’s funny how sometimes the people you take a bullet for, are the ones behind the trigger, huh?” Angel was caught off guard when he felt her arms press into his shirt before violently throwing the underwear in his face. Y/N considered crying, but nothing came out. All that remained was a sort of twisted sadness, a sick sad, one where she couldn’t feel any physically worse.

“Y/N, let me expl-“

“No… You don’t get to speak, you don’t get to defend your fuck up, and you definitely don’t get to control this conversation. Got it?”

All he could do was simply nod in agreement and tread lightly as her fury began to simmer below her skin.

“Mission complete Angel Reyes. I feel so fucking empty. Do you know what it like to be completely empty? I—I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

“I know I messed up but-“

“But nothing. You made a decision and now you’re cowering instead of bearing the consequences. Did you think of me when you were fucking her? Was I even a passing thought as you shoved your dick inside her?”

Angel inhaled in an attempt to gather his recklessly scattered thoughts. He couldn’t bullshit a bullshitter and based on the look etched into her newly found frown, Angel was officially shut out by the one person he considered his safe haven. You deserve this you piece of shit, you brought this upon yourself when all you had to do was push her away.

“I wasn’t thinking. Sometimes people do terrible things when they’re scared. They don’t mean to, but they can’t help it. I lashed out for no reason at all but to test to waters and now I’m anchored to the ocean floor.”

“Just quit already, let me guess- this wasn’t the first time. Exactly how many times did you laugh behind my back only to come home and double dip, hm?”

This was a question Angel wasn’t prepared for in the slightest which is why he chose to remain silent. Y/N didn’t need any additional ammunition to fire his direction. The damage was done, and he was naively there to watch the wildfire spread.

“Y/N, if you walk away, I understand, but know that you were the only one who always had my heart. Please never doubt that.”

She gathered her remaining articles of clothing that had created their blended home and shuffled towards the impending exit of his home and their sunken relationship. Y/N’s fingers wrapped around the cold knob, the crickets chirped as she fought to regain her composure.

“I want to you remember this day and recognize that you broke us, even when we don’t know each other anymore because I will never be yours again Angel.” Her trembling hands finally allowed her one last push against the door-frame as she met the chilled air, goosebumps rippling along her skin. Y/N’s emotions finally seeped through, but she refused to let him see her collapse.

“I wanted to find a way to be happy with you by my side, but if I can’t have you, I’ll find a way to be happy without you. Now get out of my fucking face, asshole.” The finality in her words commanded his attention as Angel was left horrendously alone all by his own hand.

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

http://utterlyhopeful.tumblr.com/post/180940839697/masterlist-mayans-mc-angel-reyes-x-reader-happy

[jarmes]

The Man In The Attic

From the attic of a suburban family’s home, a mysterious stranger fixes their problems...

The walls in this house are thin. I hear every footstep, every word, every rage-filled fight with crystal clarity. At 6:00, I hear Keith’s alarm go off. Five minutes later I hear him stumble out of bed and into the shower. At 6:30, I hear the sound of Karen knocking on Kim’s door and the sound of Kim chucking a pillow at her. At 6:45, I hear the front door opening as Keith leaves for work. At 7:15, I hear Karen wake Kevin up. Five minutes later I hear the sound of a sizzling griddle as she makes breakfast for her children. At 7:45 I hear Kim leave the house, dragging her younger brother with her. Five minutes later, I hear Karen pouring herself a cup of coffee. At 8:05 Karen finally leaves. Five minutes later, I descend from the attic.

I open the refrigerator door and pull out a Tupperware container full of pasta, leftovers from the previous night. I only take a few bites, small enough that no one will notice that I’ve touched anything. Karen has left half a pot of coffee sitting on the counter; I finish it off. As I sip my lukewarm coffee, I make my way to the living room and turn on the TV.

The morning news is playing some sensationalist story about a string of recent break-ins. I roll my eyes and flip through the channels, looking for something interesting to watch. After finding nothing but reruns and game shows, I open up the DVR recordings.

I pop on a new episode of a sitcom I like, one about a happy family that Keith recorded the previous night. While I watch it I check the recording schedule, making sure that my shows are set to tape. I notice that the Karen forgot to tape this afternoon’s episode of one of her soap operas.

I imagine the fight that’ll break out when Karen comes home and realizes that her stories weren’t taped. Presumably, she’ll accuse Keith of deleting them for the sole purpose of angering her and refuse to acknowledge the possibility that she made a mistake. Keith will bring up the fact that he’s had a hard day at work, which will only make Karen angrier. Kevin will try to drown out the fight by watching TV and Kim will storm out of the house.

I set the soap opera to record and pat myself on the back for a job well done. I can’t imagine how these people got by before I started living here. I’m the glue that holds this family together. My job is thankless, primarily because the Brattons don’t know I exist.

I’ve been living in the Bratton family’s attic for nine months now. Hiding in the attic of a suburban middle-class family was never the plan. My stepfather kicked me out and I didn’t have anywhere to stay, so I started squatting in an unsold house on their street. After three days of squatting, a new family moved in without any warning.

I probably should have run away. But, I knew finding a new squatting location would be a hassle, so I just started hiding in the attic. When the Brattons are all gone, I sneak down to grab food from their fridge. When they come back, I return to my hiding place. It was hard, at first, avoiding detection. I almost got caught a dozen times. But, before long, I managed to learn the family’s schedules. Nowadays the odds of me getting caught are minuscule.

My hearing has gotten pretty good over the past few months, so I was able to hear the unmistakable sound of a door opening at 8:30. This surprises me, because I know for a fact that no one should be home until 3:45. As soon as the door opens I dash to the pantry; it would take to long to return to the attic.

I hear the sound of footsteps. Judging by their sound, they belong to Kim. I realize that she must be skipping school. I hear, through the thin door of the pantry, Kim walk to the living room. Sneaking past her to return to the attic is risky. If she doesn’t move until her family comes home, I’ll definitely get caught. I reach into my pocket and grab my cell phone. I text Karen, informing her of her daughter’s truancy. I smile when the Read tag appears beneath my message. I wait for Karen to come storming home.

I’ve learned a lot about the Brattons since I started living with them. Karen and Keith were high school sweethearts, him the local high school’s star quarterback and her the head of the cheer squad. I honestly think that the two of them would have gone their separate ways if it wasn’t for an unplanned pregnancy. Nine months and one shotgun wedding later, Keith and Karen came home with a baby girl named Kim.

If Karen’s weekly phone calls to her sister are to be believed, Kim used to be a sweet kid. But, with high school came new problems. One day Kim came home with black hair, piercings, and a new foul attitude. Keith and Karen came to the conclusion that they were the only parents in the history of mankind to have a rebellious teenager and responded by doubling down on punishments in an attempt to “fix” their daughter, something that has only made her rebel more.

Karen rips open the front door and marches into the living. “What’s up, mom?” Kim says.

“Why aren’t you at school?” Karen asks.

“Didn’t feel like going,” Kim replies.

Karen sighs. “Kim, you need to go to school,” she says. “Otherwise, you won’t be able-”

“I won’t be able to get into college and then I won’t be able to get a good job and I’ll have to marry a loser,” Kim interjects. “I’ve heard the speech before, mom.”

“Then why do you keep doing things like this?”

“Chill.”

“I had to leave my nursing class to come and get you, you know.”

“That was a dumb decision.”

I hear the sound of a struggle, presumably created by Karen grabbing Kim by the ear and dragging her to the front door. “How’d you even find out I skipped school?” Kim asks.

“You principal texted me,” Karen replies.

I chuckle from the darkened pantry. I inputted my number into Karen’s phone number under the principal’s name two months prior, knowing that a situation like this might occur. After making sure that Karen and Kim are gone, I return to the living room to watch TV.

At 3:00, I grab some snacks from the cupboard and return to the attack. At 3:45, right on schedule, I hear Karen’s car pull into the driveway.

I hear Kevin dash for his bedroom as soon as Karen opens the front door. “No video games until you’re done with your homework!” Karen shouts.

A few minutes later I hear the sound of Kevin turning on a game console. I don’t know if Karen doesn’t know or is just too busy to care. If I were to guess, I would say that she’s working on her classwork. Fortunately, I don’t have to guess.

I grab a small tablet sitting atop a pile of boxes and turn it on. Camera feeds showing various rooms spread throughout the house appear on the screen. The feed from the kitchen shows Karen surrounded by a pile of books, jotting down notes in a notebook. The feed from Kevin’s room shows him sitting on a beanbag chair, blasting heads off an army of zombies. There isn’t a feed from the attic; if there were, it would show me lazily lying on the old couch I claimed as my bed.

The security system was already installed when the Brattons moved in. The realtor neglected to tell them about the countless cameras spread throughout the house, designed to help stop an intruder. Ironically, nothing has contributed to my continued residence in this house more.

When I’m up in my attic, I do a variety of things to keep myself busy. I read, I browse the internet, I play games on my phone. But, the main thing I do is observe the Brattons over the cameras. At first, I did this so I could learn their schedules and figure out how to stay hidden. Over time, I started watching them for my own enjoyment. The Brattons are better than any soap opera. Their fights, their wants, their struggles, all of these things feature an authenticity television could never reproduce.

I don’t pay for the food, shelter, and entertainment I take from these people, but I do make up for the things I take. I provide this family with something that money could never buy: stability. When I first met the Bratton’s, Keith and Karen’s marriage was hanging on by a thread. I knew that, if the two of them were to split up, they might leave this house and sell it to more observant residents. So I took it upon myself to keep the two of them together.

The main thing I do is clean up the minor creators of stress spread around the house. I make sure Keith’s work clothes are clean, I take out the trash when it gets too full, I make sure the toilet seat is down, I write things on the grocery list when we run out, that kind of thing.

I never do too much, because that would reveal my existence. Just enough to make sure Keith and Karen are happy. Occasionally, I do something big, like sending Karen flowers using Keith’s credit card or hiding tickets to a concert in the family’s mailbox. I honestly think that, if it wasn’t for me, Keith and Karen would have broken up months ago.

At 5:30, Karen moves her moves her books from the table to the living room.  She isn’t done studying, but needs to start in on dinner if she’s going to have it done by the time Keith arrives at home. She pulls up a recipe on her phone and beings cooking fish.

I don’t think Karen ever wanted to be a housewife. She mentioned once, while talking to her sister on the phone, that she wanted to be a doctor when she was a kid. She’s never mentioned what changed, but I’m guessing that she put those dreams on hold when Kim came along.

She’s started taking nursing classes recently, a decision that has led to no shortage of stress in the Bratton family. No one has been impacted by this stress more than Karen herself, who has struggled to balance her studies and her family.

At 6:30, Keith comes home from work. He trudges through the front door and collapses onto the sofa. “How was your day?” Karen asks, seemingly oblivious.

“Tiring,” Keith replies.

Keith spends eleven hours each day in a cubicle. Since Karen started going back to school, things have been lean around the Bratton household. Keith volunteered to pick up extra responsibilities at work to help pad his salary, something he has regretted more and more with each passing moment.

Judging by the framed newspaper articles that hang in his study, Keith was a damn good football player in his youth, one good enough to get quite a few scholarships. He never accepted them, though. I’m not sure why.

“Keith, we need to talk about our daughter,” Karen says.

“What did she do this time?” Keith asks, eyes closed.

“She skipped school!”

“And?”

Karen scowls at Keith. “I can’t believe that you aren’t taking this seriously,” she says.

“Karen, she’s sixteen,” Keith says, rubbing his temples. “She’s going to make mistakes.”

“Skipping school is more than a mistake, Keith.”

“Fine, I’ll go talk to her,” Keith says while getting off the sofa.

“She isn’t here right now,” Karen says, “I drug her back to school but she hasn’t come back yet.”

Keith sighs. “Did you try calling her phone?” he asks.

“No Keith, I didn’t try calling my missing daughter,” Karen snaps. “Of course I tried calling her. She didn’t pick up.”

“Maybe that means she needs space.”

“She could be at the bottom of a ditch for all we know!”

Karen is proven wrong ten seconds later, when Kim walks through the front door. “Where on earth have you been for the past three hours?” Karen asks.

“Out,” Kim replies.

Keith chuckles and Karen shoots him an angry look. “I was hanging out with friends, I didn’t think it was a big deal,” Kim says.

“I was worried,” Karen says. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

“It died,” Kim says.

“Bullshit,” Karen says.

“Easy,” Keith says as he pushes Karen and Kim apart. “Let’s all calm down.”

“I am perfectly calm, Keith,” Karen says. “I am just sick and tired of the fact that my daughter doesn’t respect me.”

“Okay,” Kim says while rolling her eyes.

Around this time, Kevin wanders downstairs, drawn by the fighting. He notices something that the others haven’t. “Mom?” he says.

“What is it, honey?” Karen asks, temporarily shifting her attention away from Kim.

“I smell smoke,” Kevin says.

Karen curses before running into the kitchen, ripping open the oven, and grabbing a glass pan containing charred fish with her bare hands. She screams and Keith runs over to her. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“I feel fucking phenomenal, Keith,” Karen says.

“Do you want to go to the hospital?”

“No,” Karen says, as blunt as a boulder.

She reaches into a drawer, grabs a pair of oven mitts, and picks the pan full of burnt fish off the floor. “I have had a long day and would like nothing more than to have a nice meal with my family,” she says.

The Brattons eat the burnt fish in silence. Up in the attic, I munch on a bag of chips, enthralled by the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. Kevin doesn’t touch his food. “What’s wrong, honey?” Karen asks.

“I don’t like fish,” he replies.

“It’s what we’re having for dinner tonight,” Karen says.

“It’s burnt,” Kim says.

“Maybe it would be better if I was able to focus on making dinner instead of worrying about you,” Karen snaps.

The doorbell rings and Keith answers it. A pimply pizza delivery boy stands on the front porch, holding a large stack of pies. “Pizza delivery for Keith Bratton,” he says.

“We didn’t order any pizza,” Karen says as she walks over to the door.

“Is this 432 East Meadow Street?” the pizza boy asks.

“Yes,” Keith replies. “And I’m Keith Bratton.”

“I have a delivery for you,” the pizza boy says.

“We didn’t order any pizza,” Karen says as she slams the door in the pizza boy’s face.

To be fair, Karen is right that she didn’t order any pizza. I did, hoping to stop the eventual fight over dinner by replacing the burnt fish with fresh pizza. “What did you do that for?” Keith asks.

“We didn’t order pizza,” Karen replies.

“I know, but we could have just paid for the pizza and ate it for dinner.”

“I worked really hard on dinner and we are going to eat it as a family.”

Karen walks back to her chair. “So, how was school? she asks.”

“Good,” Kevin replies.

“Did anything interesting happen?”

“My teacher talked to me about football tryouts.”

“Football tryouts?” Keith asks, suddenly interested.

“The answer is no,” Karen says.

“Now, let’s not be rash,” Keith interjects.

“I said no,” Karen says. “Football is dangerous and I don’t want my son getting involved.”

“Karen, it’s just flag football,” Keith says. “He’ll be fine.”

“I said no, Keith,” Karen says. “That’s final.”

Kevin gets out of his chair and storms off to his room. “Nice going mom, you made another child hate you,” Kim says before following her brother.

Kevin is the youngest of the Brattons, born a measly seven years prior. As much as I hate to say it, I think Keith and Karen decided to have him to rekindle their long dead marriage. This plan failed as a second child only added to their stresses.

I think Kevin would have it a lot worse if I wasn’t around to keep his parents happy. I’ve seen children who grow up in broken homes and the problems they face. I’ve been keeping Keith and Karen together for Kevin’s sake as much as my own.

After dinner, Keith brings his laptop to the table and starts typing away. Karen scrubs away at the pan, rubbing off the charred fish and dumping it into the sink. “How was dinner?” she asks.

“It was fine,” Keith says.

It’s a lie, of course, and a poor one at that. Karen can easily see through her husband’s deception, but chooses to play along. “Just fine?” she asks.

Keith sighs. “Can we do this some other time?” he says. “I’m drowning in work right now.”

“You hated it, didn’t you?”

“I said it was fine, dammit. Why does it always have to be mind games with you?”

Karen leaves the pan to soak and begins cleaning one of the plates. “I’m just trying to make conversations, she says. “How was work?”

“Busy,” Keith says while typing on his computer.

“You know, I’d appreciate it if you put the laptop away while we’re talking.”

“Well, dear, I’d appreciate it if you acknowledged that my job pays for the roof over your head.”

“Here we go again,” Karen says, bitterness flowing through her words.

“What?”

“You act like you’re the only one who works hard in this family!” Karen shouts.

The plate slips from her fingers and falls to the ground, shattering. She reaches down to pick it up and slices open her finger. “Are you okay?” Keith asks.

“I’m fine,” Karen says as blood drips from her hand.

On my screen, I notice that Kevin is watching his parents from the living room. I sigh. No child should have to see their parents fight like this. Using a remote I stole from the living room I turn on the living room TV. Kevin stops watching his parents fight and starts watching my favorite sitcom, the one about a happy family.

[maraudersandlily20]

The Only Gay I Know

Lily would not shut up. And not in her usual, quirky Lily way where she would get on a subject she found interesting and wouldn’t shut up about it until she knew everything. No, this was the obnoxious way, when she got concerned for one of her friends and would keep talking about them even when everyone else had moved on.

Sirius loved Lily. She was one of the kindest, happiest people Sirius knew. She was protective over him and fought for him and was everything a friend ought to be. Since she had decided that the marauders might be worth friendship, they had all been stuck together like glue. There were very few times in their friendship that Sirius wanted Lily to sod off. This was one of them.

“I’m just so worried for her. She hasn’t gotten out of bed all day, hasn’t eaten anything. She just sits there, looking homeless, and she won’t talk about it. I don’t know what to do. She didn’t even care for him that much, according to her.”

“Lils,” James pleaded. “We know that Marlene is having a hard time. But there’s nothing we can do about it now. Will you please focus on something else for the rest of the day until we get back to the common room?”

Lily pouted and Sirius snickered, messing up her hair. She growled and smacked his hand away. While the group continued on to configurations, Sirius let himself consider Marlene for a second.

It had been rather random occurrence yesterday when Lily had approached her friends and announced that Marlene and her boyfriend of two months, Darrin Carmichael, had split up. She was shaken by the termination of her friend’s relationship, having been so convinced that they had been meant for each other. Sirius didn’t care much for Darrin, who was one of the most pompous Ravenclaws in their year, but he had kept his opinions to himself, knowing that Marlene really liked him. At least, she said she did.

She had been acting strange the past few days. Her normal, open manner suddenly closed in on itself and she could barely look anyone in the eyes. Marlene was known for her brash, feminine attitude, and being open with her thoughts and honest in her opinions. Remus loved her. Sirius often felt jealous of the relationship his boyfriend had with the girl, considering that Remus was bisexual and had told Sirius that he would be rather tempted to be date her, if he wasn’t with Sirius. Sirius appreciated the honesty, but sometimes it made him self conscious. However, despite his feelings of jealousy toward the stunning blonde, he also couldn’t help but love her. With their dark past of snogging far behind them, he finally felt comfortable with her. They had grown rather close since the summer trip to the Potters and he cared for her greatly.

He wanted her to be happy. So he resolved to make sure she was okay that afternoon, after classes.

It was easy to find a moment without everyone hovering. Remus, Lily and James were busy with prefect and head boy and girl duties and Peter was in the library with his friend/ potential girlfriend Annie and intended to stay there til the sun went down. Dorcas was by the lake, uncharacteristically quiet that day, though she smiled whenever people asked how she was doing.

Sirius got up, folding the piece of parchment he had just written on into a small square. The note simply said, “Please come talk to me -SB”. He then charmed it to fly up and under the 7th year girls dorm door. He went and took a seat on the couch in front of the fireplace and waited. After a minute, a red eyed Marlene descended down the stairs, her hair ratty and clad in a blanket and her pajamas. She looked like hell. She gave Sirius a close lipped smile and sank into his waiting arms.

She burrowed her head into his neck and sniffled, reveling in the feeling of his comfort.

“Are you okay, little one?” Sirius whispered, the affectionate nickname rolling of his tongue. A shrug of her shoulders was the only movement. So, the two just sat in silence.

“Sirius.” Marlene finally said, gathering her courage. He hummed. “How… how did you know that wanted to be with boys?”

He reared back. This was not the direction he was expecting this conversation to go. “What?” He shook his head. “Are you sure that’s what you want to talk about? Not how much of a prick Carmichael is?”

Marlene shook her head, giving a chuckle. “No. I really want to know.”

Sirius took a deep breath and attempted to piece together what to say. No one had really asked him this question before and so was unsure of how to answer. “Well…” He began tentatively. “A lot of it had to do with Remus. It made it a lot easier to understand my feelings when they were tacked onto one person. And Remus always made sense to me. Even when we were younger and I wasn’t aware of what my feelings were, I knew I needed Remus. James always joked that he and I were so attached that sometimes he couldn’t tell us apart. In fifth year, though, when I started thinking that I had to have feelings for girls, every time I went out with a girl, something felt off. Like I was just a bit too tall or too big to be in the situation. I towered over every girl I took out, I couldn’t understand what I was expected to do or how to react or flirt or whatever. It was awkward.”

“When I realized I wanted Remus, it was like everything clicked.”

“What made you realize?”

Sirius laughed. “Well, we were in the library. It was a quiet afternoon. Prongs was at quidditch and Peter was asleep on the table. Remus was sitting against a windowsill, reading a novel on the mystical properties of stones. It had been rather gloomy that day, but there was a moment when the sun came out. I looked up to enjoy it and was met with the sight of Remus soaked in sunlight. His hair became illuminated and it backlit him just right.” Sirius’ eyes clouded over with the memory and Marlene watched him as he thought about that moment. He smiled. “It took my breath away. And I realized that I wanted him. More than I had ever wanted any girl I’d taken out. And it was more than attraction. I mean, Merlin, I definitely wanted to push him against a wall and snog him until the sun went down, but it was more than that.” he looked over at her and shrugged. “I wanted the little things too. I wanted to hold his hand in the hallway and argue about his favorite types of music, which are just of awful. I wanted to hear him snore, because he does, even though he denies it. I wanted to spend holidays with him and hold him when he cried. I wanted all of it.”

Marlene was enraptured in the obvious love Sirius had for Remus. It was shining through his face, emanating from his entire body. It made her happy, to know they were so content with each other. “I don’t know if I would have found that with someone else. I probably would have. And, honestly, it probably would have been a bloke. I know that now. But it was Remus, which made it easier. And now I honestly can’t imagine having that with anyone else.”

“So you knew with a surety that you wanted Remus?” Marlene asked.

Sirius nodded. “Yeah, when I finally figured it out. Of course, Remus had felt that way about me for much longer. But once we were finally together, life seemed better.” He looked down at the girl in his arms, so clearly struggling with heartache. “Is that how you felt with Carmichael?”

Marlene’s head snapped up. “What? No. No, of course not. He was fit and nice sometimes and he liked me. But what I felt with Darrin was nothing like what you just described.”

“I’m assuming that’s why he dumped you.”

She scoffed. “Please. I dumped him. He begged me to stay so we could figure it out. But once I realized that he wasn’t what I wanted OR needed, I knew I couldn’t be with him.” She stared into the fire, growing quiet.

It took Sirius a moment to piece together what she was saying. When he realized the bizarre way the conversation had turned actually had a meaning, his eyes grew wide. “Marls… Why did you want to know how I knew I wanted to be with a bloke?”

“You’re the only gay I know. At least, well enough to talk about this with. And, I just am kind of confused. About everything. I needed to talk to someone who might understand.”

“You want to be with girls?” He said, his voice soft. Marlene bit her lip and nodded. Suddenly, a lot of things made sense. “The girl you want to be with wouldn’t happen to be Miss Dorcas Meadowes, would it?”

Inexplicably, Marlene’s eyes filled with tears. She sunk into the couch even more, if that were possible, and tried to keep her breathing even. “I don’t know what to do, Sirius. She’ll hate me.” She whispered. “I can barely look at her now, knowing how badly I want her. But I don’t think she’ll want me. And I’ve been rejected quite a bit in my life, but hearing it from her just might kill me.”

“Marlene. What is Merlin’s name are you talking about?” Sirius snapped. “You are thinking of the absolute worst scenario.” He pulled away from her, making them both sit up straight. “Yes, you’re right, there is a chance that Dorcas won’t want you that way. And that might suck, for a while. But you’re strong, and you’ll get through it. But you’re completely ignoring the fact that she might feel the same way. And then, all of this worry will mean nothing, and you’ll regret every minute of it.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off. “No, Marlene, listen. I waited an entire year before telling Remus how I felt. And even then, I didn’t actually tell him. And before that, we got in terrible fights about almost everything. It tore me up. I was angry and upset, but I couldn’t tell him how I felt because what if it ruined our friendship? So I didn’t. I let a pinch of worry stop what would have been a 15 second conversation and instead focused only on what could happen. Not what might happen. When Remus and I finally did get together, it was like all of that was wasted time. It was, of course, and we both regretted it. We’re happy now, but we could have been happier much sooner.” He stared her down, gazing into the light blue eyes, hoping she would see his sincerity. “I don’t want that to happen to you, Marls. Don’t be like us. We were cowards. It took us far too long to figure it out. Be brave. Be the Marlene Mckinnon we know and love. Take a shower, put on some real clothes, and tell that beautiful woman how you feel. If she rejects you, and she would be mental to do so, then you’ll know right where to find me.”

Marlene was crying, but smiling. She leaned forward and placed a fierce kiss on his cheek before running up the stairs to follow his orders. He grinned, hoping against hope that things would work out in her favor.

A few hours later, Lily was once again voicing her concern for Marlene. After a minute, trying to ignore her, Sirius looked up and saw Marlene enter the great hall, hand intertwined with Dorcas, who had a blush against her black skin. They were grinning widely, and Marlene made eye contact with Sirius, looking proud. He gave her a nod of approval.

“Don’t worry, Lils. I think everything is going to be okay with Marlene.” he gestured to the new couple with his head and everyone around him turned to look.

When his classmates and friends seemed to understand what was going on, their mouths dropped open. Gasps and catcalls started to circle around the Gryffindor table. Lily stood, aghast. “MERLIN’S BEARD!” She shouted. “YOU’RE LESBIANS?” Everyone laughed and raised their goblets toward the girls in a sign of congratulations.

And all Sirius could do was smile.