#house wouldn’t ever say peel me an orange

[houseswife]

yeah your boyfriend peeled you an orange but would he fake his death to make you his afterlife? would black flowers blossom, fearless on his breath?

#see house would absolutely fucking not peel that orange #but only because wilson would never ask #academic citation: (‘You would pick up my laundry if I asked you to’ ‘Go ahead. Ask’ ‘I wouldn’t do that to you’) #as for the opposite scenario #house wouldn’t ever say peel me an orange #he would just wait for wilson to peel one for himself and then steal that #if he ever did ask him to peel one it would be for the exact reason all these girls on tiktok r doing it #I mean he basically already did that experiment with the borrowing money thing LOL #but yeah I think wilson either do it as quickly and efficiently as possible if the circumstances are dire enough for house to be believably #sincere in his request #or he would get innedietly suspicious and interrogate him about what he’s up to #probably both actually #I digress #sometimes an act of service is going down with him hand in unlovable hand #house md #greg house #gregory house #hilson #james wilson #house/wilson #hatecrimes md

[una-hopeless-romantic1118]

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐀 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬?—𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐑𝐨𝐣𝐚𝐬/𝐑𝐡𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐬

a/n: i died but im back for u hangry warren sluts<3333. following after the events of Part 2. ALSO changed the last name to Augustine bc i love the last name :3

timeline: ep. 3 

-> Part 1  

-> Part 2  

This chapter: Part 3

Part 4 

Part 5 

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

warnings: cursing, drinking, hangovers, angsty y/n again, not proofread at all. it’s way too long than the other ones whoopsies. 

summary: a slow morning at y/n’s condo starts with warren, who makes it his mission to get to know the girl better, before pulling a “mastermind” of his own as well.

i never realized this but y/n in the first part was literally being a mastermind by taylor swift. AND WE STAN🤞🤞

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Warren didn’t wake up to the sound of Graham’s and Eddie’s loud chatter, the loud clinking of pans as Karen prepares for breakfast, or Julia’s shrieking cries that rattled the whole house awake, but it was the waves gently crashing in the distance.

Outside, through the light blue, almost translucent, curtains of the clear sliding door, he could see the sun about to rise in the most beautiful state ever. A mixture of the shades purple, orange, and pink, and it was perfect.

It sounds like it doesn’t make any sense at all, and if someone were to ever tell him that the sky could be this pretty, he wouldn’t have believed them. He would’ve waved it off as the coke talking.

But seeing it now, just having woken from the best sleep he’s had in a while, it was real and true. It impressed him. So much so that it drove him to get up from the couch he was sleeping at to take a closer look, as if he was a child waking up early to find his backyard snowing.

He swept off the curtain for a clearer look. 

“Holy shit,” he whispered heavily under his breath that the window had fogged up.

The sky was even better with the curtain swept off to the side. It was like he was in the middle of a painting. 

It was too good to be true.

Beneath the sunrise, the waves that woke him up continued its rhythmic pattern of gentle crashes on the shore, the bubbling it leaves on the sand, and then back to the ocean to gather energy to crash again.

He could stand there and watch it for hours.

His shared house Laurel Canyon was confined, there were barely any windows, and they didn’t have the nearest access to the beach.

He managed to peel his eyes off the scenery before him to look around the condo.

Who knew a celebrity’s condo could be so comforting? It wasn’t just the outside scenery that was comforting, but strangely, it was the mess of the living room.

The loose and weirdly shaped, different colored pieces of cloth on the table in front of the couch, an even bigger mess on the tables with the sewing machines, and loose pieces of paper with sketches of colorful designs.

Stylish designs, but some of them are bolder, more uniquely colored designs, that he knows there’s more to them than meets the eye, but are all x’ed over like mistakes.

He took note that some of them were indicated to be bejeweled pieces of clothing, decorated with nothing but jewels, gems, and silver, and it completely stands out from her usual tight, petite looking designs. Some were clothing pieces that were flowy and wispy, and if one were to put their arms out at the wind, it creates that free feeling statement. 

He picks up the sketches on the floor and tables, subconsciously starting a properly stacked pile of papers and placing them on the table, making sure to make a separate pile of the ones that are x’ed out.

•─────⋅(cut to documentary)⋅─────• 

Warren: I mean, the way she was talked about back then was unbelievable. I’m not over exaggerating when I say this, but I was probably one of the only people she had over at that condo.

She had hundreds of friends and admirers, so it kinda made me question how I was welcomed in. And knowing enough about her at the time, it wasn’t because I was a rockstar and she was a hard core fan.

*he lifts himself up from his seat* Mind if I get something real quick? 

Interviewer: Sure.

*he walks out of the camera’s view and into a room in his boat. not long, he comes back with a newspaper in hand.*

Warren: This is just one of the many newspapers I saw her name in, in big, white, bold letters. *he sits back down* I never saw something from the corner of my eye and recognize it this well.

Interviewer: Why’d you keep it?

Warren: *he shrugs with a smile* It’s the little things that matter, sobrina! She still smiles seeing this every now and then.

I bought this at a local grocery store when I was walking around the town she lived at, looking for takeout to get for the two of us. After I found some, I brought four plates of the same order, two milkshakes, and headed back with this and the food.

Interviewer: Well, what made you feel the need to stay?

Warren: Who in the right mind would want to waste their time not spending it with Y/N? *he flips the newspaper’s front to face him* I took my chance, but it wasn’t what I wanted in the first place. I just thought it’d be nice to have a friend like her and get to know her better.

*he hesitates* with a siiide of benefits, because the woman was too interesting to be someone I could just wave off into the past.

But listen to this, the most dramatic title ever *he snickered* :

“ Y/N Augustine! Her rise has been as catastrophic, luminous, and stunning as a supernova itself-! ”

I’m sorry- *he snickered behind the newspaper* I can’t, man. I don’t know how I managed to go through with showing her this, knowing damn well she would’ve laughed at it too. But I know she needed to see it. Especially at that time.

Interviewer: Would you say that that morning was the beginning for you guys? Like the rest of the band said?

Warren: *he nods with a smirk* Hell yeah.

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

Warren, with two bags of the four styrofoam containers of food in one hand, contained in one of the bags the horrible newspaper, while holding a cup holder with two drinks on the other, placed the drinks on the floor momentarily to open the door.

Just opening a small crack, he was immediately met with a blasting vinyl player. Bob Marley & The Wailers, he recognized, Could You Be Loved.

There was a spark of amusement that made Warren chuckle under his breath.

As soon as he made the small crack of the door, he squished through with the breakfast in his hands, pushing the door wider with his arm.

He marched over the counter by the kitchen to place the food, and when he turned around, he was met with a wildly haired, wide eyed short woman, with a baseball bat ready to swing his head out of his body.

•─────⋅(cut to documentary)⋅─────•

Y/N: I had to have a baseball bat. I bought it from a local Dick’s Sporting Goods because I couldn’t buy anything...else.

It wasn’t because I liked the sport. It was good enough because even if you didn’t know how to use it “the right way,” It would hurt the other person anyways.

I was just a woman who happened to be living alone. I needed all the protection I could get from bastards creeping into my house. 

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

“FUCKING BASTARD!” Y/N yelled. “WARREN WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“ME?” He yelled back. “YOU’RE THE ONE WITH THE FUCKING WEAPON. PUT IT DOWN BEFORE I SHIT MY FUCKING PANTS."

Y/N pants as she lowers the bat slowly. “I thought you...I thought you left?...”

"Geeze, woman. Really?” He exhaled out, in pure disbelief. To think he would leave after the events of last night, with so many things to talk about, he wanted all the answers he could get. 

So many things that can happen from then on. 

Her in her silk sleep dress and baseball bat was not what he had in mind at all, though.

In other words, he wanted her. He wouldn’t have gotten her all of this food if he didn’t. And that says a lot.

In the distance, the reggae music continued with another one.

“Sorry,” she winced. “I thought you were an intruder.”

Warren tries to shake off his trembling subtly. “Eh, it’s all good. I went out to get food. Milkshakes, hash browns, scrambled eggs, toast.” He drummed on the plates as he tells her.

Y/N’s eyes widen, but she proceeds to march up to the counter and salivate over the delicious smell. 

Not long after, she begins to dive in, seemingly forgetting about how she almost near blew Warren’s head open.

She also seemed to be completely ignoring Warren’s amused, yet admiring gaze on her.

She nods to him. “So, is this like, aftercare?” She grabs a fork in a drawer and begins picking at the scrambled eggs. “Back home they usually just leave.”

It takes Warren a few seconds to recover from the wild suggestion. “We didn’t...sleep together, Y/N.” He said carefully. “But if you really want to know what aftercare could be with me, then we should definitely do something about that.”

Y/N, already with a mouthful of eggs, tilt her head in confusion. “What is this all for, then?” She ignored the brave remark.

Warren sighs defeatedly into his shoulder. “Thought I’d be nice. Figured you’d have a hangover.” 

He grabs a toast. “And I thought you said you were from here? Or was that also...”

“No, I am from here,” Y/N nods. “But after my parents’ divorce when I was 10, my dad and me and my three brothers moved to France to where our grandparents were at.” She swallows the remnants of scrambled eggs in her mouth. “I moved back here after quitting 2 years of...school-” 

Warren tuts when he notices the long pause between of and school. “Tell me.”

“No.”

“Yes,” he widened his eyes at her, wagging a piece of toast in her face. “It’s the least you could do. I bought you food that could last you the whole day.”

“I never asked for this!”

“How bad of a major was it that you won’t tell me?” Warren chuckled. “What was it? Dentistry? Dance? Clinical? A foot massager?”

“A foot massager?!” She screeched.

“Holy shit! Are you serious?”

Y/N slaps his hard in his upper arm, which caused Warren to yell out. “Shit! Baby, that stung.”

“Don’t call me baby,” she gagged. “Don’t baby me!”

“But you’re so cut-Ow! Fine, geeze.” He goes to massage his arm after the second slap, now that it was sending tingling sensations, worse than the one before. “I think it’s actually making my arm paralyzed, Y/N. Great fucking job.”

“Good. I hope the paralysis reaches your brain.”

“I won’t let it,” he sighs miserably as he continues to massage his arm. “Now tell me your major, please.”

“No!” She chuckled nervously. “It’s embarrassing.”

“I won’t laugh, I promise.” He lied. Of course he’d laugh, he did just make her blush from embarrassing her.

A silent pause. “...Astrophysics.”

Warren’s hand raced to his mouth to stop himself from absolutely losing it in front of her. And she already looked embarrassed, and with the way she was clutching on to her fork looked like she want to dive it into her eye. 

“...Wow.” He muffled against his hand. “I mean...wow...”

But when a snicker escaped from his lips, Y/N frowns. “You promised!”

“I never promised anything!” He laughed out loud now. Howling laughter, that tears began to form in the corner of his eyes. “What a nerd!”

“Fuck off.” She groaned, walking to him only to push him away.

“Little French nerd!” But it wasn’t until she got up in front of his face, way too close than she intended, was she reminded of last night.

Of course Y/N remembered the kiss. And while she rarely got drunk, those rare times were always “on accident,” and would always have to be her last straw. It was always in hopes to avoid and forget, but it wouldn’t last for however she wanted. She still remembers things.

For a while, she’s been thinking about moving back to France. Back to her family, back to her friends and back to the insane craze of lover culture—anyone, to desperately get a way out of this depressing hold called loneliness.

But she knows she couldn’t just leave because she’d be leaving way too much. It’s way too important to leave for company or love. 

The kiss was nice, and made her feel nice momentarily. Warren’s nice too, bringing her breakfast and all, and cleaning her living room/primary workplace for her that she noticed as soon as she walked in, which is a tad confusing and unnecessary, especially after her little trick on him.

She’s flattered by the guy. Charmed, even.

But Y/N has been in doubt about many things, but this shouldn’t be any different. The feelings will pass, she’s convinced herself, and she will be able to get herself back on track.

So she walks back to where she was before.

When Y/N gets herself to look at him again, there’s a certain way that Warren’s face pinched that sent Y/N to feel extremely guilty.

“Why’d you drop out?” He exhaled out heavily.

“Warren...” She warned with pained expression.

“Hey, it’s just a genuine question.” He raised his hands in surrender. “How does someone go from being a super nerd to a hot piece fashionista?”

“Fuck you, I have always been a hot piece.” She scrunched her nose. “I wasn’t happy, that was it. I mean, I loved studying it and reading about it, but I didn’t want it as a job. I wish I realized it earlier.”

Warren nods. “So you were an unhappy hot piece.” He faked sympathy.

“I was an unhappy hot piece.” She nodded along.

He takes a sip of his milkshake before swishing it around his mouth. “And now?” He swallows. “Are you happier now?” 

Y/N made the mistake of saying “um...” instead of just jumping into it with a lie.

Say yes.

All Y/N could do was bite her tongue and look up.

Y/N, just fucking lie.

“Hey...it’s okay if you’re not.”

Y/N bites her bottom lip gently as she picks at the scrambled egg in front of her.

“Maybe I need another career change.” She snickered. But, no. It’s not it this time, and she knows it.

“I was hoping you would say that.” Warren wagged a finger at her before walking off to the stack of papers at one of her sewing desk.

She watches as he walks back to her with a whole, separated stack of them. “I saw your sketches earlier when I was cleaning up.” 

“Congrats,” she said with a mouthful of toast. “You’re the first person to see them.”

“No way?” He chuckled with his raspy voice. “Oh, shit. Wow...and is there, like, an award system for this? ‘Cuz I feel like I deserve some sort of…award for witnessing such, fine, art...” He made sure to look intently at her.

Y/N tried to hide her growing smile. “So about the sketches you said?....”

Warren shook his head with a small smile on his face. “They were good. All of them.”

Y/N shrugged nonchalantly, faking a blushed expression. “Top notch feedback. New York critics better watch out.” 

“Hey, I’m telling the truth,” he laughs out, “especially the crossed out ones.”

Y/N stops mid-bite of her toast. She blinks a few times, before finally meeting Warren in the eyes. 

“I mean, why are they crossed out in the first place?” He questioned, genuine curiosity in his voice. “They looked amazing.”

“They looked like shit.” She countered his compliment. 

Warren insisted for a further explanation with a simple nod.

“They’re not...normal,” she tried. “If I went through with them and made them, I would’ve wasted my time, and not to mention, embarrass the models. They wouldn’t be able to show their faces or get another modeling gig if I forced them into clothes like those.”

“Okay, well, forget about the models right now,” Warren offered, with a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “Why are they shit? Because they don’t look like it.”

Y/N shrugs as she swallows. She knows they weren’t shit, but that they were too bold of a statement. “I just don’t see the average people to wear them.”

“That’s because average people shouldn’t be wearing them.” Warren snickered. “You know you’re the #1 brand right now? Serenity’s been on cover magazines everywhere I go, with your name plastered at the top as if it was it’s own title.”

He pulls out the newspaper from the bag and faced it in front of her.

It only takes her a few minutes skimming the page to break out laughing.

•─────⋅(cut to documentary)⋅─────•

Y/N: It was such a horribly cheesy compliment *she pinched the bridge of her nose* I should’ve sued their ass back then.

•─────⋅(cut back)⋅─────•

Warren laughs along with her. “I saw it on the walk back here. Thought I’d show it to you to convince you.”

Y/N chuckles, wiping a tear forming from the corner of her eye. “Convince me that my work is as catastrophic as a supernova?” She laughs into her arms. 

He nods. “That you should go through with making the clothes. You’re amazing. And sorry for saying this, but I never pegged you to be the type of person to care what other people think.”

“Well I do,” Y/N argued, her laughter gradually dying down. “I do care.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“It’s my work. I’m supposed to.” She met his eyes again. “What do you know about it?”

“I don’t know jack shit about fashion, you’re right,” Warren agrees. He leans closer to her on the counter, “but I know if you keep pushing creativity like these to the side, the world will be missing out on a whole side of Y/N Augustine.”

“And how are you so sure it’s something they’d want to see?”

“Alright, listen,” he proposes. “They’re not shit. They’re just different. They’re never-seen-before’s, that’s why you’re scared to make them.”

Y/N still looked unsurely at the papers laid in front of her. Warren pushes them to her so that they’re closer.

He points at one of the x’ed out drawings. Under the drawing was his name written with a smiley face and a phone number.

“I gotta run. Band practice.” He tells her, before quickly pecking her cheek and beelining to the front door.

Biting back a smile, she calls out after him.“When do you want this?”

“As soon as you want to see me again.” He flashed her a smile, winked, before finally closing the door behind him.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

taglist (aka beautiful people): @pinkdaiisies @mlwriting5 @teletubbysteroids @linatells @stanzie @arsonkween @rexorangecouny @lisbeth122605 @cultsanrio @thatoneawesomechicka @magicalmiserybore @sourholland @sunfairyy. @lilyhw1 @viridianflowers​  @goldenjasssy​

#daisy jones #daisy jones and the six #djats #warren rhodes #warren rhodes x reader #warren rhodes x you #warren rojas #warren rojas x reader #warren rojas x y/n #warren rojas x you #warren rhodes fluff #warren rojas fic #warren rhodes x y/n #warren rhodes smut #djats fic #djats fanfic

[jomiddlemarch]

Alina and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day 

Alina was fairly certain that kindergarten pickup was actually a level of Hell. One of the deeper ones, though she had to admit that waiting for the divorce to be finalized and the week in February that Mal had been away at a conference in Hawaii when Eli got the stomach bug and she’d run out of orange Pedialyte, Clorox, and episodes of Elmo’s World just as she’d succumbed were both worse. She’d gotten a tee-shirt out of the conference and not herpes, so it was slightly ahead, which was the kind of thing she’d say that would make Gen tell her she really had to stay in the here and now and focus on herself and Eli; the fact that focusing in herself to Gen always meant some form of hot/stone/the feminine Divine yoga plus or minus a green smoothie was something Alina figured she just had to suck up as part of the best friend code. Especially if she wanted (needed) Gen to remain on Eli’s emergency contact list and deal with kindergarten pickup if Alina had a deadline or her car decided to call her bluff on her perpetually overdue oil changes.

She’d actually finished the article on affordable housing while sitting at the oil change place, wondering from time to time how oil change places still existed and why they still had a TV mounted on the wall when everyone was on their phone, earbuds in, podcasts and memes washing over them as digital sedatives. When she’d said anything like that at home, Mal would accuse her of being a Luddite, while continuing to shoot some monster on his gaming PC, and she’d launch into an explanation of why the Luddites got a bad rap and remembering it, she once again rejoiced in the finalization of the divorce, despite everything else it had cost her, starting with her rosy ideals about happily-ever-afters. In the timeless, nameless oil change place, happily-ever-after seemed like something that wouldn’t even appear on the TV as an infomercial. On the flip side, she wasn’t worried her car would die in kindergarten pickup.

Instead, she wished for death. Or something that would free her from her misery, besides the over-priced pistachio latte that she promptly spilled as soon as she got out of her car, half of it landing on her already dingy sneakers. She was surrounded by totally put-together, mani-pedi-ed moms in Lululemon or power suits or hand-knit sweaters and $300 jeans, with younger siblings in the latest paisley slings, Labradoodles with monogrammed collars off-leash and milling about, the same women who’d post their freshly washed and fashionably dressed kid holding a “First Day of X Grade” chalked on adorable chalkboard pics on social media. She’d waffled for a good ten minutes over the latte, since it really wasn’t in her budget and almost certainly was contributing to climate change and her chances of developing Type II diabetes, and all for what? Turning her greyish sneakers a bilious shade she associated with Dickensian misers with gout and getting her hands sticky.

“One of those days,” she heard, a man’s voice drifting down from behind her left shoulder. Before Alina could twist around or even cant her neck upward to see who was talking to her, he’d offered her an unopened pack of travel wet-wipes.

“Uh, thanks,” she said, peeling back the sticker closing the wipes and dabbing at her cuff of her cardigan. 

“Sorry about your coffee,” the man said. He’d moved into view, tall and dark-haired with a neatly trimmed beard, a sporty fleece vest layered over what he had to have worn to work, suit pants and a dress shirt still wrinkle-free. “I could easily spare a juice-box—apple-carrot ended up being a bust.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Alina remarked. “Plus, juice isn’t supposed to be good for kids.”

“No?”

Alina shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like you’re giving them absinthe. Or liquid plutonium. But yeah, whole fruit is better. And they can just drink water.”

“You’re the first mom to talk to me at pickup,” he said. “I’m Alex, by the way. Cosima’s dad.”

“Probably because you’re like the only dad to show up,” Alina replied. She didn’t say “and you look like you’re on the cover of Vogue except for the navy fleece” but she thought it. Loudly.

“Their loss. Cosima always has so much to say as soon as she leaves the building, I get a play-by-play,” he said. “I’m out of town enough I don’t like to ask her nanny to get her if I can do it.”

Alina knew she should not say it. It was clear as day, as a bell, as crystal. Hell, she only had to make a leading remark and he’d probably volunteer the info, if his unprompted remarks about being Cosima’s dad and having a nanny were anything to go by. She had, however, been known to make bad decisions. See: Mal, though Eli was the most silvery of silver linings.

“Her mom can’t pick her up?”

Alex, who had every right to freeze up or withdraw or otherwise let her know she had far overstepped in her latte-stained sneakers, shrugged.

“She left me to go find herself. That doesn’t make her terribly available for kindergarten pickup. Or bath-time, beginning ballet, or urgent care visits for ear infections,” he said, not as bitterly as he could have but not as Zen as he’d likely intended. There was a look in his eyes that only another divorced, custodial parent could recognize, a pain made of equal parts anger and humiliation, the need to conceal it from the child who shouldn’t see their other parent as a villain. The fatigue from being the one who was there, who couldn’t think about a weekend away or a night out without worrying about whether there’d be a call from the sitter, a fever, a crying jag over the fear of abandonment and the finite quantity of chicken nuggets allotted to a meal.

“I really thought you were going to end on bake sales,” Alina said. 

“I always get a pass from the class moms on those,” Alex said. “They don’t expect a dad to bake, so if I do, I’m basically a superhero and if I can’t manage to send in homemade banana chocolate chip muffins and send her in with a box of cupcakes from Kaminsky’s, I’m still in their good graces. It’s completely unfair.”

“It is,” Alina said. She couldn’t be that annoyed because he knew it. “I wish I could get away with banana bread muffins. I sent Eli with red velvet cupcakes once and I didn’t use organic red food coloring or organic, locally sourced cream cheese for the frosting and I got the smoky cat-wing stink-eye for the next month. I should have risen above it, but honestly, it sucked.”

Alex laughed. He had a nice laugh, a nice voice, and seemed like a nice man who was a good dad. With her luck, that meant that he was either secretly an immensely powerful, evil mastermind intent on world domination or that she’d never see him again.

“You’re Eli’s mom? Cosima says he’s very smart and good at sharing and he makes the best dinosaur sounds. Somewhere between a growl and a yodel, I gathered after she gave up trying to describe it and demonstrated her impression,” Alex said. “I hope this isn’t too presumptuous, but would you consider a playdate for them? It’s been rough, these past few months, and I’m trying to make sure she still has a normal childhood, whatever that means these days. My mother thinks I spoil her, but she’s very old-fashioned. My mother, not Cosima.”

“My schedule is a little tricky,” Alina said carefully. She would have been more wary if it had been one of the exquisitely put-together mothers asking, more relaxed if one of the nannies had made the proposal. She wasn’t sure what to make of Alex’s offer, except that she’d wanted to say yes right away and that meant she needed to watch herself. The opportunity to even subtly trash-talk her ex was irresistible, however. “Eli’s father is around, but never when I need to organize anything.” 

“We could meet at the park. I can bring enough snacks to last the afternoon, you could come when you’re free,” Alex suggested. He said when and not if, enough hope in his voice and those dark eyes that it sounded like an appeal and not an attempt to control her.

“I wouldn’t want you to go to too much trouble,” she said. She had thought arranging playdates would be easier than actual adult dating, but thus far, she’d been wrong.

“Oh, I won’t. I’ll go to Kaminsky’s and stock up. I’m friends with the owners,” he said. “I should say, I’m friends with Theo and Ivan doesn’t outright loathe me and allows me to eat his pastry. If you are not Theo, that is about as close to friends as you can get with him.”

“Sounds like my friend Gen’s boyfriend David, except substitute updating all my devices so I don’t get hacked or locked out of my bank account for petit fours and apple turnovers,” Alina said.

“That’s what you’d like, apple turnovers?” Alex asked, looking at her with a degree of focus that started out as unnerving and then suddenly felt warmer than appraisal, too thoughtful to be mere flirtation.

“You don’t have to—” Alina began, cut off when the kids were released, much like a swarm of infuriated bees or the Charge of the Light Brigade, Eli running a credible Olympic qualifying sprint with her latte-splattered knees as the finish line, a dark-haired little girl with neatly braided hair arriving slightly more decorously in Alex’s embrace; he’d instantly dropped into an unfairly elegant crouch to receive his daughter, while Alina planted her feet to take on the onslaught of Hurricane Eli. 

“Papa, you have to tell Baba not to eat snails anymore because Ms. Costas got one and it’s got a name and snails are people too,” Cosima announced, small hands planted on her father’s shoulders.

“Its name is Greg,” Eli said, as if the four of them were having a conversation, which Alina now supposed was the actual truth. 

“So, a boy snail,” Alex said.

“No,” Cosima said. “Just Greg.”

“Can we go to the park, Mommy? You said we could. Can we bring meatballs?” Eli asked.

“Not today, buddy,” Alina said, bracing herself for a tantrum or a closing argument worthy of Clarence Darrow or Judge Judy. 

“You said—”

“Your mom said we could have a playdate on Saturday and that is in two days,” Alex interjected. “Cosima and I are going to bring a blanket and some treats. We could include meatballs too.”

“Don’t,” Alina said. Alex’s expression went blank but Cosima and Eli’s both looked mutinous and on the verge of tears. It was amazing Ms. Costas could stand firm regarding quiet time in the face of such unified disapproval. “I just meant, don’t worry about meatballs. Meatballs is Mr. Lanstov’s cat. He’s our neighbor, we help out a little—”

“Yeah, because Mr. Lantsov is a million years old,” Eli said. “He said to call him Niko, but Mommy says that’s not polite because he’s so old.”

“We could bring apple turnovers then,” Alex said. “And maybe some catnip for Meatballs. It would be nice to make everyone happy.”

For @vesperass-anuna and @aloveforjaneausten who were wanting a modern AU for Darklina where our two unhappy characters meet at school picking up their kiddos.

#darklina #modern au #alina x aleksander #dilf!aleksander #fluff #humor #kidfic #mal bashing #prompt fill #fivan #ivan x fedyor

[darkhighness]

Good Omentober Day 31 - Party

Prompt by @disaster-dog

I just want to say a massive thanks to the creator of this list. It's been a great writing challenge and I've really enjoyed the daily ritual! I hope you guys have enjoyed reading.

Crowley protects Aziraphale from the big scary haunted house.

Aziraphale felt himself second guessing every decision he had made today as they reached the Haunted House. There appeared to be some kind of Halloween party adjacent to the main attraction and many drunk, scantily dressed young people were pouring from every entrance, various beverages in hand.

The angel had never really been one for the clubbing and party scene but he always loved watching Crowley tear through the crowd and demand attention with his eccentric mannerisms and abrasive nature. It was a wonder Crowley had any friends at all, sometimes.

Crowley peeled his way around the car, still clad in the angel-inspired outfit and reached for Aziraphale’s hand, a gentle reassurance that he wouldn’t let anything happen to him. He began to step towards the haunted house, excited to hear and see what new developments had been made. Crowley himself hadn’t been to a proper haunted house in years and he was sure that there would be more exciting spooks this time around.

What Crowley had failed to mention was that there were going to be jumpscares. Aziraphale had a turbulent past with jump scares, having a habit of his wings flicking out and forming some kind of shield. As they were signing the waivers, Crowley turned to Aziraphale after reading a statement about not punching the actors. He gestured to the employee that they would be back and he gently pulled the angel aside.

“So, Aziraphale… You’re going to get scared, alright? But you can’t do your usual…thing. Just stick with me and it’ll be fun, okay?” Crowley cautioned softly, aware of all the humans around him.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened and he nodded unsurely, his grip on the demon’s hand growing ever so slightly tighter.

They finished signing the papers before they entered the room, passing through a red cellophane curtain into a dark room, barely lit by a series of orange LEDs. There were a bunch of fake skeletons lining the walls, all letting out low groaning noises.

As they took one step further, an animatronic snapped to life, letting out a maniacal laugh. Aziraphale immediately leapt back, letting out a loud shriek and he tried to hide behind Crowley who was chuckling softly.

“Come here, angel,” He whispered, snaking an arm around the frightened man’s waist. Aziraphale let out a tiny sniffle and wiped his nose. As soon as Crowley realised he turned to ask, “Do you want to keep going? We can head home?”

Aziraphale shook his head, knowing how much Crowley had been looking forward to this.

Crowley reached into his pocket and revealed a glowstick. It was usually intended for children, but it was simply a signal to the actors that someone didn’t want to be spooked. Crowley bent the glowing beacon around Aziraphale’s wrist before taking hold of his hand once again.

They moved into the next room which was set out like some kind of dentist office with blood all over the ground. The actor came up to Crowley and grabbed his arm before setting a drill sound off right beside his ear. The sound crept right through Crowley’s skin down to his bones and he felt himself tense up.

Aziraphale tensed up and his grip on Crowley’s hand tightened.

The actor grabbed on to Crowley’s arm, leaving a wet mark on his shirt with fake blood before rushing them into the room. Crowley turned to check on Aziraphale to make sure he was okay. The previous look of fear on his face seemed to shift into an uneasy smile which was enough for Crowley.

The rest of the attraction was much the same with all the actors trying to scare Crowley and surprised at how unphased he was by it all. Something about spending millennia being a demon really took the edge off of things. Aziraphale, now knowing that he wasn’t going to be spooked by the actors was easing into the experience, even laughing at Crowley who looked uneasy when a woman trailed her long nails down his shoulder and back which caused a shudder through the demon’s body.

When they made it through to the other end, Crowley was covered in fake blood but sported a fantastic grin on his face, enjoying the unparalleled thrill of it all. The same employee they saw at the start handed them a goodie bag each for making it through the house with various candies and a sticker that proudly proclaimed ‘I made it through the Soho Scare Shack’.

Once they were back in the Bentley (and after Crowley definitely didn’t miracle his clothes clean so he couldn’t stain the seats), Aziraphale let out a breath he wasn’t sure he was holding.

“That was certainly something,” The angel proclaimed, taking a moment to stretch his arms out and get comfortable, “It was almost fun by the end.”

Crowley started the car and eased into a comfortable joy, “Glad you thought so, angel.”

“Truly it is a tragedy to see such nice clothes getting stained though,” Aziraphale admitted teasingly.

“S’why I usually wear black,” Crowley retorted with a grin, beginning to drive back to the bookshop.

Once they were back, Aziraphale didn’t hesitate to make his needs known. He tugged at the coat Crowley was wearing with some kind of childish frustration before it gave way and fell to the ground.

“Jeez angel I might have to scare you more often,” Crowley grinned, helping to undo the buttons of Aziraphale’s costume.

“Just wanna be near you,” He whined, his arms moving to rest on Crowley’s hips as he took a break to hug the demon, melting into his touch and enjoying the warmth.

Crowley stroked Aziraphale’s hair, gently swaying and enjoying the moment, until Aziraphale took charge again and insisted Crowley make his way to the bedroom at once, not before leaving a growing red mark on the demon’s collarbone.

#aziracrow #good omens 2 #aziraphale #good omentober #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #crowley #anthony j crowley #good omens #ao3 fanfic

[spicysoftsweet]

summary: gojo’s tired of you resisting him

warnings: home invasion, noncon, degradation, fem!reader

a/n: this was supposed to be a crumb for @mahitopegger i have no idea wtf happened. i didn’t edit this || reposted from sideblog (now deactivated) on 4/17/2021.

It was only after the soft click of your door, and the eerie silence thereafter that seemed to threaten to close you in, that you realized that something wasn’t quite right. Your eyes darted left, then right, and you kicked off your shoes slower than usual, setting them semi-haphazardly to the side of your entryway.

Even if you weren’t paranoid, you were still the type of person to double check, sometimes triple-check your locks on occasion before you left your home, and you did remember your key turning the right way just seconds ago.

Maybe you were overreacting - after all you lived in a relatively safe area, alone save for your cat with a propensity to mewl for food at all hours of the day. Ah, that was possibly the issue, the fact that your little furry friend hadn’t made his presence immediately. But he knew how to be quiet sometimes, and was fond of an early afternoon nap.

The sound of your keys clattering on your coffee table now seemed unceremoniously loud, like you were disturbing a religious service. In your own house.

Your heart started to race for just a moment, and you turned around quickly.

Nothing. No person, no ghost, no cat. Just you, a sudden sense of unease, and your rapidly beating heart.

Why were you so anxious?

You couldn’t recall the last time you’d felt so unsettled for the moments in which you paced down your hallway, ears tuned to the soft footfalls of your presumably sleeping companion. You would have whispered its name but you didn’t want to wake up the needy little bastard unnecessarily.

It was only three paces in that you stilled suddenly, and the memory of the last time you’d felt this way suddenly struck vividly in your mind.

Clear blue eyes, bordered by long, pale white eyelashes. A smile, once easy and bright, with corners turned up far too high into malice.

You froze.

Was it him? Was Gojo in your house? He wouldn’t... would he?

Your last encounter had been... suboptimal, to say the least. You’d all but told him to get lost, that you weren’t and would never be interested, not after knowing who he was, what he was.

You needed a quiet, calm existence. Your imprint on the world would be measured. You had to stay away from bad omens like his.

But his reaction had been unnatural. He hadn’t given you a real response, just a smile, and you had felt just as unnerved then as you did now before you parted.

You were clearly still spooked.

But these nerves were just vestiges of your anxiety. Gojo knew how to take no for an answer. Of course he did.

He didn’t - you opened your bedroom to find the young sorcerer waiting for you, your cat comfortable in his arms.

“Ah! You’re back~”

Gojo didn’t move; rather, he continued to sit in his relaxed position, legs outstretched onto the bed, palm stroking softly at the soft orange fur. The soft purr of the docile animal filled the air with sharp contrast to your wordless mouth, opening and closing once in shock, and the frenzied beat of your heart.

He smiled before his eyes did, and shifted on top of your covers, getting to his feet. Dressed casually in a white t-shirt and a loose pair of sweatpants, as though he’d been lounging around your house the entire day... as though he lived here.

“W-what are you doing here?”  You choked out.

His eyebrows furrowed, and his hold on the little creature relaxed, who remained for just a moment, mewing once before jumping off his lap, brushing by your legs that felt as though they would start shaking any moment, and then promptly sauntered out of the room.

“You didn’t tell me you had a cat,” Satoru remarked, now sitting with legs criss-crossed on the bed, hair mussed and relaxed, and with affect as bright as a child on his first sleepover. He patted the space on the bed next to him, beckoning you to come sit. “Did you have a good day?”

“Gojo, please get out of my house.”

His expression darkened for just a moment before it returned to its natural cheeriness. He patted the space next to him again.

“You must be tired. I can make you something. Tea?”

Your feet were glued to the ground, neither advancing nor retreating.

“P-please leave,” you repeated, more wary this time. Your hands were starting to shake and you watched his eyes flicker to them, then back to your eyes.

“Why would I do that?” He said, tilting his head ever so slightly.

His eyes bore into yours and you felt your stomach turn.

“Don’t you like my attention?”

“Satoru, please,” you continued, your lower lip wobbling inadvertently. “Please, just leave... I won’t tell anyone you came here, just... I can’t return whatever feelings you have, so just go.”

Your fists clenched and unclenched, but you still were so tense, planted onto the floor as though you were a sharp dagger thrust into vulnerable flesh. Why weren’t your feet moving? You should be running. Running as far as you can from this man who could just as easily become a monster if he so pleased.

As though he knew you’d already become powerless - not that it made a difference, the power differential was already so vast - he rose, walking towards you in an open, unguarded stance. He wasn’t afraid of you in the least. The very thought made your blood boil.

Once he stood before you, towering over your shorter, smaller frame, his lips pursed.

“Stop shaking.”

It was a command, given in an annoyed but direct fashion.

You don’t know why you eked out, powerlessly, “I can’t.”

“You weren’t this afraid when you were telling me to fuck off a couple days ago,” he noted. His hand rose to grip your chin, tilting your face to him. You don’t know when you’d started crying, but tears were now streaming down your face, warm and wetting his fingers.

“You’re crying? Where’s the sass you had then?”

“Please...”

Against your better wishes, his lips pressed to yours, and somehow then, your body remembered that adrenaline could also make you fight, and you did fight, thumping your hands balled into fists against his chest and his shoulders, as his hand gripped your chin tighter and his tongue forced its way down your throat. Once he’d gotten tired of your struggle, his other arm hooked around your waist, and he pulled you closer, pressing you against his body.

Your screams were muffled by his kiss as it grew deeper, and at some point, he’d decided on biting your lip painfully, drawing blood once he’d threatened you to shut the fuck up before he gave you something to cry about for real.

You remembered that the first time Gojo had kissed you, it had been soft and tender, nothing like this kiss that was violent and demanded submission; once his hand moved from its grip on your chin, it grasped your hair, fingers twisting and tugging to tilt your head back.

His lips left yours, now red and soon purple and blue, and made their way down your neck to mark them the same.

Every scream was futile, every plea for mercy fell on deaf ears.

At some point, you may have heard your cat meow for something... food? Out of sympathy? You weren’t sure, all you could think about were the painful hickeys on your collarbones and traveling down your bosom.

“I don’t know why you’re so resistant. You yourself called me selfish,” he murmured, ripping the top part of your clothing with the nonchalance with which one would peel a banana. At the sight of your exposed breasts, he was like a man rabid, slamming you backwards into the wall without much regard for head injury. His left arm caged you in, while his right pressed painfully onto your breast.

He paused for a moment, and grinned salaciously.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that~! You look so docile... it’s weird coming from you.”

To that, a fire renewed in your eyes, and you spat directly in his face. His lips curled again in satisfaction, barely reacting to the spittle dripping down his pretty features.

“Fuck you.”

“I will.”

With a small chuckle, he jerked your face painfully to the left such that you couldn’t look at him directly as he took your breast into his mouth.

The idea of this bastard suckling on you, loudly, lewdly as though you’d belonged to him only made the churn in your stomach worse, but the desperate attempts to a knee to his chest were met with barely a resistance. Like he knew you couldn’t hurt him and it was only a matter of time until you stopped and succumbed to him.

The process was already happening - you could feel your nipples hardening and a new flow of heat in your panties. Your tears became more prolific - no longer fear, but rage, but the hand that kept you steady against the wall was impossibly strong.

Your head swam as a confused pleasure started to replace the pain and fear you were feeling. More clothing was torn off of you, more of your skin was marked and licked and sucked. Once your panties were ripped to shreds, he lay your now languid and fight-drained body against him, cooing appreciatively at the new helplessness, pumping two slender fingers up and down your wet inner core as he moved you from the hard wall to the soft bed.

You almost thanked him.

His fingers remained within you as he laid you down, but once he withdrew his touch as your pounding hazy head hit the pillow, he replaced them with the roughness of his tongue, penetrating you without the least bit of shame.

You let slip the moan you had been holding in in defiance.

“That’s it, baby, let me hear you.”

He continued to lick and you continued to mewl.

Once he’d tired of the taste of your cunt, he invaded your privacy in the most all-encompassing way possible, pushing every inch of a greedy, throbbing cock inside of you. As you cried from the stretch, he shushed you with a hand clasped over your mouth to muffle your screams.

As if someone was going to help you. Maybe your cat would come and watch, but he’d found something else to do.

“I know it hurts but you’ll get used to it, I promise, babe,” he murmured, groaning slightly as he seated himself to the hilt. “There.”

He stilled and in the silence of the moment only punctuated by both of your soft pants, you remembered how to sob.

His nose crinkled, and he let out of a soft sigh, cock jerking impatiently inside you.

“Why are you so stubborn?” He mused, leaning against you so that his head rested in the softness of your breasts. He could hear your heartbeat that doesn’t beat for him... but rather it did, because he is the one making it quicken in some odd rhythm of terror and pleasure.

You didn’t speak because there was far, far too much to yell.

As though a timer had rung to mark the end of his empathy, he rose onto his hands again, sighing as he adjusted into the plushness of your walls that didn’t reject him as fervently as you did. He moved, shoving two fingers down your throat to gag your renewed protests as he thrust into you repeatedly.

The short gasps with every stroke only encouraged him, and the immense pleasure he found in the light of your eyes starting to fade into a placid dullness.

“You love me,” he informed you with every rut.

You didn’t answer.  

You weren’t sure what this disgusting repetitive sensation bringing your body to climax was. You were no longer sure what he was even talking about, just that there was a warm thing pumping inside of you and fingers down your throat and pain everywhere else in your body, particularly your neck and shoulders and arms and breasts, and you were staring into precious sapphires littering the base of twin lakes.

“You love me,” he repeated. “I know you do.”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #yandere gojo #yandere gojo x reader #tw noncon #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo sm #not sfw #gojo smut #mae.drabble #mae.writing

[inarizakibabe]

Grocery Shopping

The squeaky wheels of the shopping carts usually made Suna cringe when it came to grocery shopping but recently grocery shopping has become a lot of fun. Sat in the seat in front of him was his two year old daughter Yua clad in her pink bunny onesie, the little bunny ears flopped down on her head. Normally this was a trip they would make with you but Suna felt it was time for some quality daddy-daughter time even though his little pumpkin wasn't very talkative.

"Do you want oranges sweetheart?"

The ears on her outfit flopped back and forth as she enthusiastically nodded her head yes and reached for the bag of cuties her daddy picked up.

"Papa open please." Suna opened the bag and peeled an orange for her. "Thank you!"

Her little smile was infectious and Suna couldn't help but chuckle. "You're welcome my little bunny. What else did we need?"

"Juice!"

Suna raised an eyebrow at his daughter who smiled innocently at him with her cheeks full of orange.

"Mommy said no juice this week since you finished all the juice last week. Do you want pediasure?"

"No juice? Please papa? I won finid it 'gain."

Suna had prepared for this moment ever since she was born but now that it's here how could he possibly say no to that adorable face? He'll just have to face your wrath when they get home.

"Alright baby. Apple or grape? Or do you want a different one this time?"

"Apple!"

Suna picked up a pack of apple juice boxes for his angel then quickly left the aisle before something else forbidden could catch her eye.  

“Do you still have mommy’s list pretty?”

A crumpled paper covered in orange juice was pushed in his face. “Here daddy. Dirty.”

Suna took a picture of the list then threw the paper in a nearby trash can.

“Alright baby let daddy know when you see water.”

If anyone asked him back in high school if he thought he’d be in this position Suna would’ve immediately deemed that person as crazy, but now that he’s currently in this position he wouldn’t change a thing. Maybe add another mini him or two. If he’s lucky his son might be on the way after last night.

“Daddy!”

“Yes pumpkin?”

“Uncle!” A chubby finger pointed behind Suna and he turned to find Komori shopping with Sakusa trailing behind him. “Two uncle!”

"Hey it's mini Suna and big Suna. What up you guys?" Komori smiled walking over to them to shake little Yua's hand. "Did somebody get into the oranges again? You're all sticky."

Yua giggled into her hands as Komori pinched her little cheek. "Uncle Umi here."

Sakusa smiled the best he could when the little girl offered up her last orange slice to him. "Thanks but why don't you eat it for me."

Yua smiled big and ate her last orange slice before holding out her hands to her father. "Papa dirty."

Suna pulled out a wipe from her little backpack and cleaned up her hands for her. "All better?"

"Tank yu." Yua smiled before turning back to her uncle Komori and asking for ups.

"No (y/n) today?" Komori asked while picking up Yua.

"She had a late night last night so we decided to do the grocery shopping today." Suna took the basket from Komori and placed it in his cart as the three resumed shopping. "We left before she woke up so she should call me soon."

Komori laughed then turned to face Suna. "That late night wouldn't have anything to do with you would it? At least call me to take my niece before you do such things."

"(Y/n) is still fertile so number two should come easily. Why wait when Yua's getting older? I'm sure she'd like a little brother or sister to play with." Suna smirked.

"That's fine and all but don't rush it. Two of you is more than the world needs right now." Sakusa grumbled behind the group.

"Ignore him Suna. I caught him and Yua cuddling the last time they were both at my house. I'm sure he's more excited than you are for baby number two." Komori laughed.

Sakusa rolled his eyes "You guys talk about the woman like she'd pregnant now."

"We're manifesting." Suna sparkled. "Besides I doubt (y/n) is gonna get pregnant again before Ichika does. I've been manifesting for you too Sakusa-san."

"Go manifest somewhere else. Kids are trouble." Sakusa pouted.

"You say that because Atsumu's son peed on you last week." Komori smirked when Sakusa's pout got deeper. "I forgot to tell you but I had a dream about fish Kiyoomi, and you were in it."

"Some people just want to see the world burn." Sakusa sighed picking up a pack of oreos.

Komori laughed and checked on Yua who seemed ready to fall asleep in his arms. "Just imagine it Suna-kun. Kiyoomi with a mini him. I hope it's a girl. You should see how soft he is with Yua."

A sly smile crosssed Suna's face at the thought. "You're supposed to record moments like those Komori-kun for memories. You can show Ichika-san that Sakusa-san is ready for fatherhood."

Suna and Komori laughed as the three men continued shopping for the things they needed. Eventually they made it to the cash register getting ready to go their separate ways. After sorting out who got what and getting groceries in their cars Komori placed a sleeping Yua in her car seat and waved Suna bye. After making it home and carrying in the groceries and Yua, Suna found you still asleep in bed. Maybe he did do too much last night but thoughts of a bigger family made him smile and leave a kiss on your forehead as he pulled you closer to him for cuddles.

#Suna #Suna Rintarou #suna rintaro #suna x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintarou x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyu x reader #suna fluff

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! / Part 11 Here! / Part 12 Here! / Part 13 Here! / Part 14 Here! / Part 15 Here! / Part 16 Here! / Part 17 Here! / Part 18 Here! < This is Part 19!>

Donate to Move to Higher Ground HERE!

Song Here- (X)

Big thanks to @imdoingathingmom​ and @bbibbisan​ for doing a sensitivity read! 

* This could be worse, you remind yourself as you feed your deer

* Much, much worse

* “How much am I supposed to give them?” The tall, ebony colored man says from beside you, his bright red eyes seem to glow under the pale moonlight

* “Um.. for that one, you can feed it as much kale as you want, but be careful James, he’s kinda insatiable. He’ll eat your clothes if you give him the chance”

* James nods, tearing the kale in careful ribbons.

* He smiles when the deer eats right out of his palm.

* You’re not going to lie, you were 100% surprised when the blond turned out to be Laurent and the black guy was James

* You were even more surprised when he asked if he could help you feed your animals

* You watch him smile as he gives the deer a gentle pat, feeding it more kale

* Yeah, you’re having a hard time believing the teddy bear in front of you is some psychopath tracker

* The story went that while you and Edward were out, the coven decided to play some baseball up in the mountains, and the sound caught their attention as they were passing through

* Apparently this was a fast friends situation, because Carlisle and Laurent have been reminiscing about their geezer pre-colonialism days

* You look to the house, you can see Edward’s inside from the window, his eyes meet yours and he gives you a small smile

* Well that seems hopeful

* “I used to take animals before I turned” James’s deep voice calls you back to the situation at hand

* “Oh were you a farm hand?” You’re peeling an orange, which Henrietta the third is already licking at impatiently

* “Um, not quite, I was a slave”

* You stop peeling the orange

* James tells you his story- he was a third generation slave, fathered from the master, his mother passed away shortly after his birth

* “I was lucky- in a sense, the master -my father- he was a superstitious man, and my mother- she had a reputation”

* His mother was a slave in name only, was what he told you. She was more of a mistress or a concubine.

* “At least that’s what they said, Though I’m not sure how much of that is true, I’m fairly certain she didn’t enjoy being with him. She was just trying to survive”

* His mother had been ostracized, even amongst others like them, but not because of her social position in the household

* “They thought she was a witch,” he admitted. “Bad things happened to people who wronged her, and good things happened to those who helped her”

* That sounds like Alec and Jane

* “When she was on her death bed, she laid a “curse” on the owner of the plantation, that if I wasn’t taken care of she would haunt him and bring misfortune on the entire family for several generations”

* And so, James became the unfavorable third son of the Pickett family.

* “I had many opportunities from her sacrifice, I learned to read and write, but I was more or less shunned from the house- both by my family and by the other slaves”

* It was lonely, almost painful.

* “But there was one thing, a ray of light-“ his eyes flit towards the window, and you follow his gaze to the red haired woman in the green chair

* “Victoria, she was my eldest brothers fiancé”

* The youngest daughter of the wealthiest man in town, from the outside she was a blossoming socialite

* The most beautiful girl in town

* But behind closed doors...

* Victoria was the product of an affair, a mistresses child, reluctantly brought into the household when her mother passed

* “She had big dreams, she loved to read, she yearned to study, to educate herself, to use her mind”

* And so, two lost souls found each other

* “Our family would never have allowed it. So we decided to run away together” he smiles, but it’s bitter.

* They claimed he had abducted her, perhaps to save face, and sent slave catchers to find them.

* “I’m not quite sure what happened-I remember being shot and telling Victoria to go in without me- all I ever wanted was for her to be happy.”

* This is heartbreaking

* “When I woke up, Laurent was there, and my throat burned”

* So Laurent had been with them for all that time, he was their creator

* “Afterwards the three of us worked in ‘the underground railroad’ helping slaves to the north where they could be free”

* “I’m thankful to him, for saving us, we wouldn’t have been able to be in a world where we could be together if it weren’t for him-“

* “But you wonder what the trade off is” you finish and he nods

* No longer human

* Purpose only lasts so long in this life, after all human life only has meaning because you know one day it will end

* “I found a penchant for tracking, it turns out what they said about my mother might have held some truth”

* James calls it “extreme luck”, there’s no other word for his gift.

* If he’s looking for something - or someone- it’ll inevitably find him through pure luck. Like the world bends to his will

* But it only works with finding things

* “These days we work as bounty hunters, and we only feed from people beyond redemption”

* Murder and rapists it sounds like

* “I didn’t know there was another way”

* “That’s understandable, I didn’t know either until I met Carlisle” he looks at you with kind eyes, and so with a deep breath you tell him your story

* About the Volturi, your parents, Alec and Jane-

* “I think you would like them, they’re a little off putting at first, but they warm up pretty fast”

* “Like cats” he says

* “Like cats” you agree

* You tell him about meeting Carlisle, how he saved you,

* how Eleazer gave you a home and a family,

* and about Edward, who gave you a chance to live

* Not just to survive, but to truly live

* “We’re not so different you and I” James says with a smile, and you mirror his expression

* “No we aren’t”

* Though of course you wouldn’t compare the relatively privileged life you had to his

* But the loneliness you both experienced is not all that different

* The tie that binds you all

* And then you do something you’ve never done before

* “You know, I don’t belong to this coven, not really” it’s the first time you’ve admitted it to anyone

* “Oh?”

* “My coven is in Denali, they have a permanent settlement there, and they follow the er... same alternative lifestyle”

* He laughs

* “I’m sure they would love two or three more, we’ve got like thirteen spare rooms in that house”

* You still remember the antiquated scooby Doo mansion-esque hallways filled with armor and swords

* He looks at you for a long time, but it doesn’t make you uncomfortable

* “I won’t follow another leader”

* You nod, that’s understandable.

* Laurent created them, and it seems he’s happy with their current lifestyle, they won’t betray him

* “Not unless it’s you”

* ........

* What?!?!

* “M-me?” You sputter, your orange peel filled hand clutching your chest

* “Why would you want to follow me? I’m only nineteen years old- I don’t even have a high school degree yet!”

* He laughs at your panicked expression

* “You know that doesn’t matter to our kind,” his eyes twinkle as he looks at you.

* “Call it witchcraft if you like, but you’re going to accomplish great things, I can feel it deep in my bones”

* Garrett had said the same thing, but the way James says it-

* You really believe it.

* He doesn’t want anything from you you, not a kiss or a date-

* He just wants to be your friend, to be apart of your vision

* Whatever it may be

* “Here’s my card-“

* He holds out his business card to you, unlike Garett’s it’s a cheap cardboard white with his profession and number on the front

* “If you ever find yourself in need of someone to help with your animals, let me know”

* You nod, taking his card in your hands

* “Um there’s one more thing I could use your help with-“

* He points to the large window, right at Alice

* “I know that girl but she doesn’t seem to know me.”

* “Well how does that work”

* He tells you how many years ago, a woman was looking for her sister.

* “It was a bit of a Cinderella story”

* The woman’s father had remarried quickly after his wife’s death, and the step mother had sent his children away. The younger sibling, his client, was lucky and was sent to a relative.

* But the older, who had suspected something amiss had happened to her mother, was sent to a mental asylum

* “You know me, I find things, it’s my gift.”

* But when he found the girl, she was no longer human. Already turned.

* “I tried to approach her, but she didn’t seem to remember anything”

* “Alice doesn’t have any of her memories from before she turned, she woke up in the woods all alone”

* The only thing guiding her were her visions.

* James nods solemnly

* “Should I...should I tell her?”

* You look to Alice.

* She’s smiling at something Victoria said.

* How many nights has she spent wondering who she really was, feeling so happy she had a family and a partner, but wondering if she left someone behind

* How would she feel when she found out?

* “I think you should tell her.”

* If it was you, even if it hurt, you would want to know

* James nods

* “Okay”

* You walk inside together, and immediately look to Edward

* Your own personal vampire lie detector

* “He did lie about one thing-“ Edward tells you once James pulls Alice aside.

* Was he actually tracking Alice to hunt her?

* Your heart drops at the thought

* “His mother didn’t die from natural causes, she committed suicide because she knew it would secure his future” Edward tells you with a somber expression.

* “He just didn’t want you to feel bad”

* You smile and nod.

* What a strong person, you can’t even imagine

* Edward pulls you into his arms, placing a soft kiss in your hair

* You feel bitter sweet about the whole thing

* Especially as you watch them leave in the morning, right before you’re going to head off to school

* Jasper is holding Alice who seems vulnerable, but relieved

* They’re leaving so soon, you didn’t even get a chance to get to talk to Victoria or Laurent

* You watch James stand next to Victoria, they’re talking to Carlisle.

* They’re not even touching, but you can feel the intimacy radiate off of them

* You wonder if maybe you and Edward might get to be that close one day

* James meets your gaze and smiles

* “I’ll see you around sometime leader!” He calls out, earning confused looks from your coven and his

* You smile back and give him a nod

* You’re still not sure what your future holds

* But you know you wouldn’t have gotten this far if it weren’t for the kindness of others

* You want to make them proud

* And then in a gust of wind, he’s gone

* They all are

* “See, I didn’t commit murder or anything, I told you things were different” Edward says with a teasing smile

* You roll your eyes and lightly shove him while he just laughs

* He’s right though, that was different

* “Enough flirting kids, you’re going to be late for school, and I really don’t want to deal with that dick in the front office acting all high and mighty because they think I can’t control my children” Esme yells

* School?

* Oh sh*t you didn’t do your homework

* “Edward-“

* “I’ll drive and tell you the answers on the way there” he says catching the keys you toss to him

* “It’s the-“

* “The Trig homework, I know. It’s your worst subject”

* Well you do struggle with trig quite a bit

* “Though to be fair you’re pretty terrible at all of them”

* He barks laughing when you shove him before getting into the car through the passenger side

* Carlisle and Esme watch you from the doorstep

* “They’re so good together-“ Esme starts

* “I know, I never thought our Edward would look at anyone like that”

* Carlisle and Esme exchange a look

* Before you came around-

* Well it wasn’t bad, but he certainly didn’t look like that.

* And he never smiled like that either

* Immortality had hardened him, made him into a man

* But with you-

* Well, with you he looks just like a boy

* A boy in love for the first time

* “I wonder what kind of children they might have had” Esme wonders with a small grin

* Him, with his ability to read minds, and you with that positively monstrous power of yours

* Any number of possibilities is possible

* “Best not to think of such things” Carlisle murmurs

* Though you two may be together for eternity, with the endless options, you’ll never have that.

* Esme nods

* “I’m late to get to the hospital, surgery this morning” he mumbles kissing her on the cheek before walking to the car

* She watches him go, his sleek white Volvo disappearing down the road before looking up to the sky

* “What a shame, I would have liked a cute grandchild or two running around” she mumbles to herself before turning to go inside

* “Entertaining always leaves me exhausted, guess I’ll give my employees the day off”

Tags:  @moonlights27​ @thebluetint​ @the100thtwilight​ @awesomebooklover17​ @oneofthepotterheads​ @smileygirl08​ @imdoingathingmom​ @iconicgguk​ @yrawn​ @alyciaswhore​ @little-horror-show​ @wicked-watering-can​ @lazydreamers​ @ xxxmuxxx @ideas-for-you-to-adopt​​​ @poisoinedhope @maryleigh8796​​ @moose-squirrel-asstiel​​ @hotmessgoodness​ @jaimewho​ @corabmarie​ @what-am-i-doing10​ @alluring-venus​ @imdoingathingmom @anotheryooniverse​ @im-tired-not-sleepy​ @emmettcullenisahimbo​ @my-super-musical-life​ @smolvampiregirl​ @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream​ @mihikaahujaaa @werewolflover3252​ @teenagezombiekryptonite @shynz​ @reclusive-chicken-nugget​ @monkeyluver4546 @wonhomarshmallow​ @bwbatta​

#twilight imagine #twilight headcanon #twilight reader insert #twilight fanfiction #twilight saga #twilight #edward cullen imagine #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen headcanon #edward cullen fanfiction #midnight sun #superhero-imagines

[whoacanada]

Zimbits - Bartender!Jack + NHL!Bitty AU

Prompt: Retired NHL player Jack Zimmermann takes ownership of a sports bar in Pittsburgh and accidentally falls for the Penguins’ (closeted) new left winger.

A/N - just the start, I’d like to get around to more of this; the basic idea was an It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia AU, but I couldn’t manage to make everyone that terrible so Jack owns and operates a gay sports bar and starts crushing on one of his patrons.

“Can’t believe you’ve owned this place since ’89.” Jack coughs, waving the dust away from his face. “Did you ever come back after we moved home?”

It’d be disingenuous to say Jack had been expecting anything other than cigars and whiskey when his father had invited him on a trip down to Pittsburgh to see Mario and glad-hand some Penguins sponsors. In fact, he’d kind of been looking forward to sulking and getting shit-faced, not limping around a condemned building dodging roaches and rats.

“It was an investment opportunity. That was the trend back then, famous athletes buying up restaurants and clubs — I had big plans for this building. Then your mother got pregnant and I realized I didn’t really give two shits about running a nightclub.”

“Realized you were pretty lazy, huh?”

As Bob laughs, Jack picks at the peeling, lacquered bartop, trying not to imagine how many decades of grime he’s just collecting under his nail, the situation made even more disgusting in such close proximity to the glittering gold championship ring his father had insisted he wear to their lunch meeting with the Penguins front-office suits. Jack flicks the gunk away as Bob levels him with a weighty look, hands braced in the air as if outlining a play and not offering a tour of a cobweb-filled dive.

“Here’s my thought,” Bob says. “The bar. It’s yours.”

Jack leans against the counter, taking some weight off his braced leg, and asks, “What’s mine?”

“This place,” Bob gestures around the room. “The whole building. It’s just sitting here, empty, the bar, the liquor license, there’s apartments and office space upstairs, we’d just need to do some renovations and —“

Jack can’t help himself. He barks a laugh and says, “I’m not moving to Pittsburgh.”

“How many times have you and I talked about opening a sports bar? I’d wanted to get this place fixed up so it’d be ready when you retired, but since the final — you could make it a gay bar, even, if you wanted!” Bob says quickly, offering another awkward olive branch. “A gay sports bar. I wouldn’t care.”

“A gay sports bar. In Pittsburgh,” Jack echoes, reaching for a chirp to defend himself, but he closes him mouth as he realizes a sports bar run by a Zimmermann might not be a terrible investment idea. “The building needs a ton of work,” Jack settles. “I just saw a rat.”

“That was a mouse,” Bob dismisses, not bothering to look at the rat still clearly in view. “Nothing that can’t be fixed. Got a dollar?”

Jack pats his pockets, finds a spare looney and hands it over. Bob doesn’t hesitate, pulling an envelope out of his back pocket to exchange for the coin.

“Congratulations. You are now the proud owner of,” Bob looks around helplessly. “I actually don’t know what they call this place now. A Bar?”

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Jack swallows against the tightness in his throat, holding the deed carefully in his hands. “Thanks, Dad.”

Bob brings Jack in for a loose hug and they both ignore the soft squeaking coming from the backroom.

Five Years Later

There’s a man examining the announcement board in the vestibule, and Jack knows that posture: the forward hip cant, thick thighs, a small but definite bubble butt — guy’s a hockey player, and he has been for some time.

“Hey. Hi.”

Blondie spins around at Jack’s address. Not quite startled, but something close enough that Jack feels a twinge of guilt. “You interested in playing in our beer league? You look like you might know your way around a rink.”

The man quickly looks at his chest, as if expecting to find something displayed, but relaxes immediately. Jack fights a grin, he was once old hat at wandering into public spaces decked out in identifiable team merch.

“Bitty.” The man squares up to offer his hand; his accent is warm and distinctly southern, not at all what Jack was expecting. “You can call me Bitty.”

“Oh, with a nickname like that, you have to play, now, no excuses,” Jack gives Bitty’s arm a firm shake, surprised at how complementary his grip is; not just an overcompensating bro who’s walked into the wrong club.

“If only I had the time,” Bitty placates wryly. “Is this place new?”

“Been here a few years, but not long. How about you? Are you ‘new’? In town, I mean.”

“Moved for work,” Bitty’s smile is timid, eyes darting around the room looking for other patrons, up at the memorabilia and the various pennants. “First year. Slowly learning the area.”

Jack doesn’t miss the way Bitty’s eyes linger on the Pride flag draped from the second floor railing, but Bitty doesn’t mention it, and Jack isn’t in the business of prying.

“Let me be the first to welcome you to The Bar.”

“I saw that outside, do you not have a name?”

“We weren’t creative. The owner didn’t realize he was filling in the wrong line on the business license so we are literally called ‘The Bar’.”

“That’s actually pretty solid,” Bitty laughs, the sound lifting Jack’s mood easily. “I’ll have to make sure I come back and patron your establishment at a reasonable hour.”

“What you aren’t interested at getting sloshed before noon?”

Bitty laughs, and Jack is enough of an adult to recognize he’s got a tiny bit of a crush.

______

True to form, Bitty slowly becomes a feature of Jack’s early afternoons. The first few weeks, he does little more than quietly purchase a single domestic beer before tucking himself away in a corner booth, hunched over his phone, ball cap pulled low for discretion. Jack gives him space, and aside from a few curious regulars, Bitty is little more than another closeted young man seeking quiet sanctuary.

That is, until, hockey kicks up and Mario hooks Jack up with season tickets beside the bench. It’d taken time for Jack to get comfortable with being in an arena again, especially without the ability to step onto the ice himself, but he’s acclimated and learned to appreciate his new lot in life. He can be happy for his success and mourn the end of his career with equal measure.

(Doesn’t hurt he still gets asked for autographs on the regular.)

Bittle, the new forward traded out of Columbus, spins to whip the puck between Lundqvist’s thighs and the score is 3-2 with a minute left in the third. Jack stands to cheer with the crowd as Bittle’s pulled into a celly with his line mates, and the new angle gives Jack a good look at the man’s sunny face, complete with a familiar, bright smile and missing canine. Jack’s heart leaps into his throat when he realizes Bittle is ‘Bitty’, and Jack can’t help but cheer louder.

________

After the game, Jack does his homework. Pulls up stats pages and articles on Eric Bittle. Looking to link the quiet hottie from his bar with the energetic man he saw tonight on the ice. If Jack wasn’t in love before, he absolutely is after watching highlights from Bittle’s time in Columbus.

The next time Jack finds Bitty slipping into the bar, probably between practice and a good nap, Jack makes his move; filling a pint glass, wedging an orange slice on the rim, and adjusting his shirt before striding to the corner booth as easily as one can with a titanium femur.

“On the house,” Jack says, setting down the glass gently. “Choice goal, Tuesday. Great bounce.”

Bitty’s grateful smile falters, turning into something guarded.

“What goal?” Bitty asks, voice steady, and Jack’s immediately alerted to his misstep. Jack casts a careful eye around the room and doesn’t find anyone watching, kicking himself for not thinking this through. He’s used to playing this game with guys who aren’t quite comfortable, who might be visiting with the wrong people, but he hasn’t had to do the closeted-pro-athlete dance in a while.

“You know, I must have been mistaken.”

“Happens all the time. Very sweet of you, though.” Bitty apologizes and pushes away the beer, but Jack waves him off. It’s the least Jack can do for calling the guy out.

“I should have known,” Jack tries to recover. “You’ve still got all your chiclets. But, between you and me, Bittle’s a spitfire, eh? Crazy soft hands. I’d like to meet him someday.”

Jack whistles low, rapping his knuckles on the table before turning back to the bar, moving slowly enough he catches the way Bitty’s cheeks flare pink at the compliment.

About thirty minutes later, Jack, half focused on counting down the till, nearly misses Bitty’s exit. He looks up to offer a parting wave, and Bitty returns the gesture, flashing a shy, incomplete smile; one canine missing on the left side.

________

“Anything new to report? Sales look good, think you might be able to take some time off and visit your poor parents?”

Jack slides open a window to let some air into his bedroom, not for the first time wishing he’d taken the chance to tear out a wall and convert a corner of the top floor into a balcony. There’s still time — his father never seems to wary of giving Jack renovation loans — but Jack loves his condo and hates the idea of relocating again, even temporarily.

“New distillery opened, cut a deal on some local gin. We’re working on drink specials, if you have any ideas for names I’m open,” Jack eases onto the windowsill and looks down at the line of people waiting to get into the bar. “And I met someone. Think he might be a hockey player.”

“No shit? Beer-league?”

“NHL.” Jack corrects, an edge of caution in his tone he knows his father won’t misinterpret. “Started coming around a few months ago, gave me a fake name. Went to a game last week, scored right in front of me.”

“Well, you going to tell me who or am I going to have to guess?”

“He’s keeping to himself,” Jack holds the curtain steady to catch sight of a particularly flashy person in a glittering teal gown, texting Holster to snag a photo for the bar’s Instagram. “Don’t go hunting.”

“Well, if he needs any help you let me know.”

“What could you do?”

“I don’t know. Talk to . . . someone. I guess.”

“I’ll keep that under advisement.” Jack placates, smiling at the saucy photo Ransom texts back immediately of Holster lifting their favorite Drag Race runner-up above his head like something out of Dirty Dancing.

“So.”

“Mmm?”

“Does this mean you’ve got a little boyfriend, again?”

Jack leans out over the railing and tries to see if the universe has blessed him with a sighting of his favorite new Left Winger. Sadly, it’s Saturday evening and the Penguins are in Dallas, so no Eric tonight. 

“Working on it.” Jack offers, rapping his knuckles lightly against the window sill and trying not to think about the way Bittle’s face lights up when he sees that Jack is working. “Think I might really have a shot at something.”

“Well, you know what Wayne always says.”

“I do,” Jack breathes, pressing his forehead against the cool glass, taking in his one-of-a-kind view of the city. “I’ll let you know how it goes. Once he gets back.”

“ — You know, I’ve got the game on right now. I bet you $1000 I can tell who you’ve got the hots for. You have a specific type — ”

“Papa.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

“Thank you.”

“But it’s the kid we just got from the Blue Jackets, isn’t it. Bittle? You always like the fast ones — ”

“Goodnight, Papa.”

#bar au #jack zimmermann #NHL!Bitty #zimbits #Zimmermann #retired Jack #zimbits fic #look I wrote a thing #it's only been forever #my fic #my stuff #omgcp #check please

[ks-dreams-fantasies]

Act Like It -Johnny Tuturro

Hey guys thank you so much for the support on my last post , I deeply appreciate it. Here is my first Johnny imagine. I’m in love with the guy, go Watch Graceland if you haven’t. Hope you enjoy it

Special thanks to @breanime​ for supporting me with my first story. Go check out her stuff she’s amazing

Warning: Teasing, Language

Word Count: 1.8k

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It’s been two months. Two months since I’ve joined Graceland, and everything was going great. I had finally been able to have intel on a gang leader that I’ve been investigating for the past couple weeks. Word on the streets was that Lorenzo was partying at this club called Moomba tonight and it was my chance to show up and get his attention. The problem was that I couldn’t go alone so I decided to go ask one of the guys.

Johnny and I have been flirting since the first day I entered the house, and everyone told me he had developed a thing for me. I would be lying if I said I didn’t like the guy. He was funny, always respectful and let’s be honest super attractive. Totally my type.

I went downstairs, grabbed a banana and headed to the living room where Mike, Jakes and Johnny were sitting and laughing at something Jakes said.

“Hey guys! I need a boyfriend” I said looking at them peeling my banana. Before they could speak, I continued “I mean, you know this dude, Lorenzo? I’ve been looking at his files for a while now and he’s going to this club tonight and I need someone to pretend to be my boyfriend. I heard he loves to go after women that are in relationships, likes the chase I guess” I shrugged looking at them taking a bite of the yellow fruit.

The boys were both looking in Johnny’s direction waiting for him to say something.

“So, Mikey, what do you say?” I smirked knowing it would annoy Johnny that I didn’t think of him. 

“So, it means I’d have to hold your hand and stay by your side the whole night?” He asked me, catching on on what I was trying to do.

“We’ll probably have to kiss --- I hope you’re okay with that” you said trying not to laugh.

“NO! I – I mean Mike has a thing with Charlie and Briggs… f-for a case they’re working on.” He looked at me and then at him. “Right Mike? “ He said to his friend, his eyes pleading him 

“Oh yes ! I almost forgot about that. Sorry (Y/N) I guess you’ll have to ask someone else” he said, holding his smile.

“I’ll do it” Johnny said almost shouting. Feeling all of our eyes on him he continued “I mean, I’ll come with you, I’ll be happy to, w-well for the cause” He said smiling at me, his cheeks red.

I looked at him, finishing my banana. “Sure, thanks Johnny, I’ll see you later guys” I said winking at him, turning around and leaving to go upstairs while I could still ear them whispering about what just happened.

A couple hours later I heard a knock on the door while I was getting ready “Hey (Y/N), I’m ready when you are, I’ll wait for you downstairs” Johnny said while I was applying the last bit of my makeup.

“I’ll be down in a sec” I answered back.

I looked in the mirror one last time before going down to the living room. I opted for this red skin tight dress with a low cut in the back and I paired it with my black strappy heels. I decided to let my hair loose and my makeup was natural but it still was enough to emphasize my features.

When I arrived downstairs, Jakes and Johnny’s eyes were on me

“Well, if I knew you’d look like that I would have proposed to come with you” Jakes said looking at me and then smirking at Johnny, looking for a reaction.

“Shut up dude” he responded to him “You look beautiful mami” he said smiling at me.

“Thank you, Johnny” I blushed “Ready to go?”  He nodded.

“Have fun lovebirds, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do” Jakes said laughing while Johnny flipped him off.

When we arrived at the club, I scanned the place, trying to find Lorenzo. When I spotted him, I dragged Johnny to the bar next to the V.I.P section where him and his friends were sitting. From where we stood, I could see everything that was happening behind me because of the mirrors that were placed behind the bar. Johnny ordered us two drinks and payed the bartender.

“So, what’s the plan here? Should we – “

“Grab my ass” I said cutting him off

“W-what?”

“He’s looking our way, you’re my boyfriend. Act like it” He didn’t waste a second and he grabbed me pulling me closer to him.

I gasped looking up at him “Was that good enough for you mama?” He said his lips resting next to my ear.

“I-I think we can do better, don’t you think?” He chuckled slightly amused.

He wrapped his hands around my neck, looking me dead in the eyes, pushing his lips on mine. I was slightly taken aback by his action, but I went with it. For a moment there, I didn’t think of anything else but him. The kiss was smooth but rough and sensual at the same time. Johnny was a good kisser no doubt about it. My hands rested on his arm while his other hand found my hips pulling me even closer. We pulled apart, both out of breath.

“Was that better? You think we got his attention?” He said smirking, looking down to meet my eyes.

I turned my head to the right, blushing, meeting Lorenzo’s stare. “Yeah, I think we did, he’s definitely looking at us now” I said turning back to face him

“He’s not looking at me” he said “It’s all you sweetheart. I mean every guy in here is practically drooling at the sight of you” he continued licking his lips

“Every guy including you Johnny?” I asked moving my hair to the side, smirking

“Especially me” he answered looking at my lips “I’m making everybody jealous right now if you didn’t notice. Even the bartender is staring at you”

I smiled “Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe – Is it working?”

“Maybe” He laughed. We spoke for a bit as Johnny finished his drink excusing himself before going to the bathroom.

“Here you go darling” the bartender came to me giving me a drink “From the guy in the booth over there”he said pointing in Lorenzo’s direction. As I turned around, he was already looking at me, so I decided to go over to him. Two guys were standing in front of the booth and Lorenzo tapped their shoulders giving them a sign to let me pass.

“Hi! I just came to say thank you for the drink?”

“Lorenzo” he responded smiling

“Well Lorenzo, you sure know how to get a lady’s attention”

He chuckled “See, I couldn’t help but notice you sitting by yourself over there, empty handed”

“Oh well I’m not really alone, my boyfriend just had to use the bathroom – I should probably go before he comes back, he tends to get jealous” I said biting my lips “Thank you again Lorenzo”

“Wait! I didn’t get your name darling” he said standing up as I was leaving his booth

“(Y/N)”

“Well (Y/N), if you ever get tired of him, I’ll be here next Friday, you’re welcome to join me” He said smirking and looking behind me as Johnny came back to the bar area.

“Thanks for the offer, I’ll think about it” I said winking at him and going back to Johnny, swinging my hips, knowing damn well Lorenzo was still staring.

“Everything good?” He asked putting his hand on my arm.

“I got his attention, he was flirting and even invited me back here next week, so I guess the plan worked” I said shrugging my shoulders taking a sip of my drink.

“Great, so what do you want to do now? You want to go back ho-“

“I wanna dance, come on”I said downing my drink and pulling him to the dancefloor.

He took my hands and turned me around so that my back was against his chest. Both his arms around my waist, he came closer to my ear “You really are beautiful (Y/N)” he said leaving a kiss below it. I smiled as I started to sway my hips against his to the beat of the song that was playing. He followed my every move.

His hands were touching me, and I could feel his breath on my neck. All I could think about was the kiss we shared earlier, I felt so many emotions and all I wanted to do was connect my lips with his again. I turned around facing him. As we continued to move in synch, I put my head in his neck, kissing it slowly, enough to get a reaction.

“Fuck (Y/N), what are you doing?” he said groaning lightly.

“The things I would do to you right now Johnny, you can’t even imagine” I responded gently nibbling on his skin. I felt his hands pulling me closer to him.

“S-Stop playing” I moved my kiss to his jaw slowly reaching the corner of his mouth.

“I’m serious! You think I wasn’t messing around with you when I asked Mike to pretend to be my boyfriend earlier?” I said in between kisses “I just wanted for you to come with me. So, it would give me an excuse to do this” After the words left my mouth, I connected my lips to his.

He pressed me in closer to his body, if that was even possible, deepening the kiss. We were both almost out of breath, but we didn’t want to pull away. The kiss was eager, needy, his teeth grazing my bottom lip as we moved back.

“You want to get out of here” he asked me

“Yeah let’s go” he pulled me by my hand, and we were out before I could even make out what had just happened moments ago.

The minute we arrived back home and saw all the lights were off, Johnny closed the front door, pushing me against the wall as he attacked my neck with his mouth. A soft moan leaving my lips as he chuckled lightly “Shhh baby, we don’t want to wake the others” he said picking me up, wrapping my legs around his waist and taking me upstairs to his room.

The next morning, I went downstairs to make breakfast for everyone. As they were all sitting at the table talking and waiting for the food to be ready, Johnny walked in the kitchen. He grabbed a glass of orange juice and then proceeded to kiss my shoulder as he walked behind me.

“Good morning baby, slept alright?” he asked me as he sat down with the others. I just smiled at him and finished fixing all the plates.

“So, (Y/N), after what I heard last night, I guess Johnny took his role pretty seriously huh?” Jakes said smirking down at him as I was putting all the food on the table blushing

“Oh my god, shut up man” he answered throwing him a piece of bread while everyone laughed.

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Thanks for Reading  

Hope you liked it, let me know what you think

-K

#johnny tuturro #graceland #manny montana #johnny tuturro x reader #johnny tuturro imagine

[fatiguing-thoughts]

“Fate” - Paul Lahote

Request: The reader (shy!fem!reader) meets Paul (twilight) in the woods while he is in wolf form and he imprints on her. Coz the reader is shy and has no friends (lol) she befriends the 'wolf'. So when they have been friends for a while Paul finally transforms into his human form and explains everything and then fluff? Thank you 😊❤️

The crunching of leaves. That’s all I can hear now. I continued walking forward, loving the noise and the smell of the pine trees around me. 

This was my daily routine now, for the last week. The woods were always my safe place, where I went to clear my head. It’s where I always spent my free time, my time for my personal thoughts.  

I had just moved to Forks about three week ago, I came from Oregon. I wanted to be closer to the Olympic National Forest, and for some reason, it just called to me. It called to be my new home. 

I spent the first couple of weeks unpacking and settling, but the newfound freedom and time to explore the great forests around my small town were beyond enticing. 

The loneliness was setting in, pushing me to go into the woods more and more. Even though I was still lonely out here, it was much better than being alone in the house. I missed my family and friends, but living here was something that just felt like I was doing something… right. 

The loneliness out here wasn’t as deafening than in my small home. I felt better surrounded by trees, listening to the sounds of nature, or the lack of normal everyday sound; it was music to my ears. 

As I pressed forward, I found the new clearing I chose the other day. This one a little bigger than the last, more calming to me. 

I put my blanket down, played some soothing music; a beautiful composition. I took out my sketchbook, drawing my surroundings. 

That’s when I heard the grass shift across the clearing. The leaves crunching, a shift in the atmosphere. The feeling washed over me, I was no longer alone. 

I felt my breath hitch as I tore my eyes away from the sketchbook, looking across the clearing. 

I saw a wolf. An enormous wolf. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I’ve seen wolves, and they’re not anywhere near the size of this. I wouldn’t even come up to the shoulder on this one, it had to be about 6 feet tall on all fours. This couldn’t be real.

I blink hard, but when I open my eyes, it doesn’t go away, my sight was not deceiving me. 

That’s when it happened, our eyes connected. I couldn’t break the eye contact, neither did the massive creature. 

The wind got knocked out of me, I felt something in me shift. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, but it wasn’t fear. 

No, fear was the last thing from my mind. What I felt was peace. I couldn’t imagine why I felt so at peace with a creature that could kill me faster than I could blink, but it’s all I felt. 

I broke the eye contact away, hoping that I didn’t make the situation worse and frighten the wolf. 

It walks a bit closer, head low. I still feel that feeling, the feeling of someone sitting on my chest-- but in the best way. 

“Jesus.” I mutter as it moves closer. 

The paws were easily the size of my head, thumping along the path to me. I felt the ground move as it got closer. 

A look of curiosity and caution painted the enormous face, eyes never tearing from mine. 

“Holy shit.” I mutter again.

It stops in its tracks, about five feet from me, looking at me as if it was asking for permission to approach closer. 

I gulp and swallow the lump in my throat. The sense of peace and calm is still radiating through my body. I stood up from my spot, feeling as if it was the best thing to do at this moment. 

The wolf nods its head towards me, in which I nod back. 

It walks closer before bowing its head, eyes still looking into mine. I see my reflection in the iris. Its eyes were that of a beautiful chocolate brown. I admire the rest of the wolf up close, noticing all of the different grey and silver tones in its beautiful fur. I cautiously reach my hand out, knuckles out, offering it to smell me before I even thought about petting it. 

As I outstretch my hand, I feel the enormous head under my palm. I begin to graze my fingertips along the top of its head, daring to dance my fingertips upon the center top of its snout. 

Its ears laid back against the massive head, leaning more weight into my touch. The fur was so soft, I found myself growing more and more comfortable with the presence of this being. I was way too close now, I lost all sense of caution. 

I smiled at the wolf as I returned the eye contact. It moved even closer, standing against my side. I laid my head upon the side of where its shoulder began. I never felt so small before. I felt a little grumble come from the wolf’s chest before it backed up, and laid down next to my blanket. I plopped myself back down. 

I caught the wolf’s eyes wandering over to my drawing of the clearing. 

“You like art or something?” I chuckled softly, knowing how silly it may seem to be talking to this wolf, though deep down I felt we had some kind of understanding.

The wolf nodded, before placing its head on my leg. The head was heavier than I imagined, but I enjoyed it. It was a soothing weight. The nod must have been coincidental, I tell myself. 

I then begin to scratch behind its ears, and laying the rest of my body down, head still on the front of my thigh. 

“This is the best, well only, company I’ve had in a month.” I smile to myself, once again trying to converse with the creature. 

I heard a large huff of air and felt the warmth on my thigh grow, the breath passing through my jeans.  

I check the time on my phone, seeing that it was later than I thought. The wolf and I sat here for hours, though they passed quickly. 

“I should leave now, sunset is approaching. I gotta get out of here before dark. After all, who knows what’s in here.” I chuckle as I begin to sit up, getting my things together into my backpack. 

The wolf looks at me, puffs again, and almost seems to roll its eyes. I could’ve sworn it looked just like it did. 

As I begin walking, I notice the wolf walking beside me. 

“Ah, walking me to my car? A gentleman, I see.” I laugh softly to myself. 

As we approach the end of the forest, the beginning of the treeline and my parked car in sight, the wolf looks down at me. 

I return the eye contact, and scratch behind the ear again, earning the leaning of the massive head into my hand. 

“This is an everyday thing for me. Same place tomorrow.” I say laughing at how ridiculous I sound. 

I earn another nod from the wolf and can’t help but feel that it truly understands what I’m saying. 

I walk over to my car, the distance between the wolf and I growing. I felt empty as the space grew, a newer feeling. I walked over to my car and looked back to see the wolf standing where I left it. 

I wave goodbye, earning a nod from the massive being. I get into my car and watch it run away, faster than I’ve seen anything move. 

The drive home was quick, as it mostly consisted of replaying the days events. 

I knew for certain that I was either insane or blessed. 

Sleeping tonight came easier than ever before. No nightmares, though the eyes of the beautiful creature filled my dreams that night. 

I woke up the next morning feeling at ease, but also if something was missing. I was almost counting down the minutes until I got to go back to my little clearing. Hopefully doing some work will make the day pass faster. 

I ferociously finish my work for the day, hoping that it would make time pass. Though my mind continuously wanders back to yesterday. 

Was it even real?

What if the creature didn’t show up today? Would I just have imagined the understanding that I thought we had? Was the connection just an imagination? 

No, I know what I saw. I am not insane, I am not making any of this up. 

As the agonizing hours passed, I sat and drew. I found myself drawing the eyes of the creature.  They were all I could see all day. 

I look over at the clock and basically spring off of my couch, grabbing my keys and backpack to head back out to the woods. 

I walk over into the clearing and sit in my previous spot on the blanket. This time I had some snacks with me, as I didn’t eat today from being so distracted. 

I began to peel my orange when I heard the snapping of a branch behind me. I took a sip of my water as I turned to look at what was behind me. 

The deep, chestnut brown eyes looking down at me. I felt such a connection to this wolf, I felt safe. 

It then moves next to where I sat, laying down once more. 

I place my orange down back onto the brown paper bag.

“Blueberries?” I outstretch my hand with a few berries in it, offering it to the creature. 

His snout found my hand, hot breath finding its way into my palm. The rough tongue and soft scraping of teeth against my palm as it took the berries from my hand.

I smile before getting some more, offering again. The wolf once again took the food from my hand. 

I truly enjoyed the company, though it did confuse me more than anything. I couldn’t describe the connection I felt to this magical being, but it was there. 

I began to make some small talk to the wolf, though I know I would not get a response. 

“You’re my first and only friend, bud. I moved here a little less than a month ago. Still unsure of what brought me here, but I think things are starting to add up. I just miss having people around, ya know?” I look over to the creature, noticing that their eyes never left my face. 

The wolf nods, putting his head back into my leg and nuzzling into me. I scratch behind their ears. 

“Anyway, I left Oregon to come here. I miss my friends and family, but I think I’ll be happier here. So far, I’m loving the new scenery. I used to spend a lot of time in the woods back there, it’s where I have my personal thoughts, where I unwind. Now that I’m here, I already have a buddy so soon. I always did it alone, but here you are. Even though you can’t talk, I enjoy your company.” I spoke softly to the being. 

Its eyes never broke from mine, just like always. 

“Your eyes are magnificent.” I softly chuckled. 

The wolf nuzzles closer to me, and I lay down on my blanket. 

This is how I spent my days now. This continued for weeks. Getting closer to this beautiful creature, befriending the most beautiful being that ever existed on the planet. 

Until one day, when I showed up to the clearing at the usual time. My new friend nowhere in sight. 

I sat down in our usual spot, waiting for the arrival of the creature. 

I waited for about ten minutes before I finally heard the relieving crunching of twigs and leaves behind me. 

“It’s about time you showed up, I got worried.” I bit back my smile. 

The wolf had a telling look in its eyes today, almost nervous. 

I scratched behind the large ear, once again being leaned into. I grew to really love this. 

As soon as I sat down, I noticed the wolf didn’t follow suit as per usual. 

It looked me in the eyes, nodding its head to the treeline. My eyes followed as the wolf walked behind the brush. 

I stood up, but didn’t follow the being out of the clearing. I watched from the treeline as it disappeared just out of view. 

Then I heard it. 

The shifting of bones. The brush disturbed from movement. 

I back up cautiously. 

A moment later, a tall, muscular man walks out of the tree line. 

I back up a bit out of surprise. I observed him in his entirety. His cutoff jean shorts, t-shirt, and beat up old shoes. Beautiful russet skin, cropped black hair, and... deep chestnut brown eyes. 

Those eyes. The ones that engulfed me into a state of peace with every look. I would recognize those eyes in a sea of people. 

The tall man smiles at me, walking closer. 

I don’t back up this time, confused yet comforted by the look in his eyes. He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen, I was drawn to him. 

“(Y/N), it’s me.” The man says. 

“How do you know my name?” I question. 

“Well, you told me a few weeks ago. Well, my other form.” He chuckles. 

“Okay, maybe I am nuts.” I laugh softly. 

“No, you’re not. Well, after listening to you for weeks, you might be. But, I have a lot of explaining to do. I’m Paul by the way.” He chuckles. 

“Hi Paul.”

We walk over to my blanket and he sits with me. 

“So, I guess I’ll explain to you what I am.” He says, slightly smirking at me. 

“I think you should, I’m very confused right now.” I smile back. 

“Well, I’m what you would call a shapeshifter. I shift into a wolf. You met me in that form.” His chestnut brown eyes peering into my soul, pleading for my attention. 

“But how? Why?” I manage to speak. 

“Well, we’re not the only magical beings. But it’s a Quileute legend, well clearly a lot more than a legend… I’m a protector of the land and people. But these are tribal secrets.” He says, still never breaking eye contact. 

“Protector? From what?” I was now concerned. 

“Well, vampires.” He answered, laughing at how crazy it sounds to say out loud, to explain to an outsider. 

“Vampires are real? And they’re here?” I ask, slightly getting fearful. 

“Yes. There’s been some coming into the area for some, not for anything good. There’s a coven here, though they’re what you call ‘good ones,’ only feeding off animals instead of humans.” He explains. 

“Wow, this is insane. But, how did you find me?” 

“Well, one of the other members of the pack picked up your scent, as well as one of the vampires we were looking for. So we took turns watching to make sure they didn’t hunt you. Which by the way, you should not be spending so much time in the woods alone. Have you ever heard of bears? Or murderers? Have you learned anything from horror movies?” He laughed. 

“Yes. I have. But it’s just, it’s what feels right for me.” I admitted. 

“I understand. You seem like one with nature.” He laughs.

“So you guys protected me?” I jump back a step.

“Yeah, well we took turns while the others went other places.” 

“Oh, so why did you stay for weeks? And why did you hang out with me?” “Well, when it was my turn, something happened. And then I couldn’t leave you. I needed to be the one who watched over you. I wanted to get to know you, I wanted to meet you. We connected.” 

“I know, I felt that. I feel like I’ve known you for ages. But what happened? How are we connected? Why do I get to know the tribal secrets?” I asked, I needed to understand. 

“Well, you’ve taken this so well. So there’s this thing. It’s called imprinting.” He finally looks down at his hands. 

“Imprinting?” I question.

He looks back into my eyes. 

“Well, it’s kinda like soulmates. Like love at first sight, almost. Although, it doesn’t have to be romantic. It’s kind of like-- when it happens, whoever a wolf imprints on, becomes the world. There is no gravity, it’s them holding you down to the Earth. You would do anything, be anything for them. A brother, a protector, a lover. It’s super intense, but it happens to some of us. And well, you’re my imprint.” 

I looked at him and nodded. I was trying to take this all in, it all made sense as to why I felt so strongly connected. Why I felt so at peace, why I loved being so close. 

“Listen, I know it’s a lot to take in. I understand. But just know that it is dangerous for us to be apart. It’ll hurt us both-- emotionally, physically, mentally. However, you hold the reins here.” He gave me a soft smile. 

“This is a lot. You’re right. But, I feel so connected to you. I wanna be around you, I love being around you. I’m so glad you’re actually a real person. However, I do want to take this slow. I want to get to know you as a person, not just the wolf. I want to meet the real you. I want to expand the friendship before any kind of romantic relationship blossoms too fast.” I say honestly. 

“That sounds like a great idea. Maybe you can come to the bonfire at La Push tonight. I think it’ll help you understand more. Plus then you’ll meet the rest of the pack. We could work on the friends thing, too.” He smiles from ear to ear, probably excited at the mention of a romantic relationship. 

We talked for hours, more about us personally than the imprinting thing, wolf thing, or vampire thing-- we saved that for the bonfire. 

The bonfire went well. I met the whole pack. A lot of banter and rough housing between the guys, especially when the imprint jokes came around. 

I took a liking to Leah, though she was rough on the outside I felt that we would be great friends. 

Over the next few weeks, Paul and I spent almost all our free time together. Things were great. Of course the friends thing didn’t last too long, how could I not want to have this amazing man as my partner? He was caring, sweet, protective, and even handsomer than anyone else I had ever seen. Our relationship was one purer than anything I could’ve ever imagined. 

Getting closer to the pack was great, I always had friends around. I loved Emily and helping her cook for the bottomless pit-stomached boys. It was like I was meant to be around, I guess that’s fate for you. 

Most of all, I cherished every moment I had with Paul. Stealing hoodies and having more fun than I’ve ever had before. 

I loved Paul Lahote more than I could put into words. No words were needed. 

This was happiness, this was pure bliss. 

We spent our days on hikes, fooling around and rough housing at the beach, and doing whatever we could do together. 

He whispered sweet-nothings into my ear at any given chance, causing me to smile, blushing like a maniac. His warm hugs and cuddles, sleeping next to him only brought me peaceful sleep I desired my entire life. 

Fate truly is something. 

_____________________________

Word Count: 3280

Yes this was long. No I’m not sorry. Yes I enjoyed it. Might have been a swift transition, but it’s super long and idc. Thank you for coming folks 

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #twilight #twilight x reader #sam uley #jacob black #jared cameron #Quil Ateara #seth clearwater #leah clearwater #brady fuller #collin littlesea #embry call #wolf pack x reader #writing

[gryffindors-weasley]

Hidden Confessions

Ron Weasley x Reader

Summary: Hidden in an old trunk, you come across an old and sentimental letter much to Ron’s dismay.

Warnings: mild language, flustered Ron, fluff, kissing

The Burrow had always been a place you and Ron flocked to for the holidays without question, and this year was no exception. It was a place of great welcoming and love for anyone who visited the wonderfully lopsided and magical home. Everything radiated warmth both literally and figuratively, though the winter chill always did have a habit of seeping it’s way through the old floorboards and small gaps in the walls. It always left you to be rather cold.

You found yourself breaking away from the boisterous group in search of a sweater you’d hoped Ron had left behind there, the thought of the soft fabric all too enticing not to give it a look. You made your way up to the very top floor, the old wooden stairs creaking loudly with even the smallest bit of pressure placed upon them. It was a bit of a winding trip, numerous enchanted photos lining the walls in picture frames that couldn’t be more opposite from each other. The various candelabras provided a little bit of warmth, illuminating every surface in a golden glow. It certainly wasn’t a boring walk up, though it was rather lengthy.

You were a bit out of breath by the time you finally reached his room, however, but you didn’t pay it any mind as you walked in. Even with the roaring fire burning in the living room, the house was seemingly too tall and too intricate for the heat to weave its way up there.

It seemed as though everything was just as Ron had left it, not a single thing out of place or taken. It very much still resembled a room that once housed a teenage boy. Quidditch posters still dotted along the wooden planks of the slanted walls, a bunch of old quills sat tucked in a miscellaneous goblet on his desk with a few empty ink bottles and that same old ink stain. A multitude of dusty books that have gone unread lined his small wooden bookshelf along with other little trinkets he’d gotten here and there. The only thing that seemed to be missing was the Chudley blanket that currently resided on your shared bed at your own home. Everything else remained the same. Even the little carving of your initials on the windowsill. He insisted he wasn’t a fan of sappy things, but you knew it’d been a lie.

Your eyes skim over the rest of the room when they land on something that has promise of what you’re looking for, his empty dresser proving to be a bust.

Tucked halfway under his bed was an old trunk, and naturally your immediate reaction was to pull it out. It was heavier than you had anticipated when you lifted it, dropping it to the bed with a bounce and sending dust particles flying into the chilly air in a small cloud. ‘Weasley & Weasley’ was printed on the face of the lid in worn yellow and orange lettering, the paint beginning to chip. A quiet laugh left your lips as you remembered; it was a hand-me-down trunk of the twins when Ron had broken his own after he caught sight of a spider crawling inside it. Needless to say it had taken a tragic and unforgiving tumble from the very top floor of the house.

Eager to find the sweater you were looking for, you pulled down the latches on either side, pressing the small metal button. A middle latch popped open, allowing you to lift the creaky lid and see its contents. It was obvious it hadn’t been open in ages by the way the hinges cracked. A few miscellaneous spell books lay on the very top, one of them being the same potions textbook Ron had regrettably lost years ago. The one that cost him a weeks worth of detention with Snape. He claimed he hadn’t had a clue where it was, that it was still in the classroom, but just about everyone knew better than to believe that. He had to count and recount each and every textbook in the cabinet since he’d insisted it was there.

Just beneath that you spotted a splotch of the familiar red and orange striped knitting you had your heart set on, a triumphant smile gracing your lips. You grabbed the soft material by the sleeve and pulled it from the trunk carefully, your eyes flitting to the cream colored envelope that had crinkled and fluttered to the ground at the quick action. Your eyes narrow as you set the sweater down on the bed, reaching to pick it up curiously. You turn it over in your hands, peeling away the red wax seal.

“Everything okay? You’ve been—”

Ron trails off when he sees you, ginger brows furrowing as he looks between your hands and your curious gaze that had now been focused on him momentarily.

“‘To Y/n Y/l/n’…,” you read out loud, turning back to him with a raised brow. “What is this?”

He only gave you a puzzled expression to match your own.

“I don’t kn—” His eyes widen soon after, and in a matter of moments he nearly leapt forward as a wave of realization struck him, snatching the paper from your hands with reddened cheeks. Not before you caught a glimpse of what was inside. “It’s…it’s nothing!”

You squint up at him in disbelief as he laughed nervously because the way he’d been acting meant it was absolutely not nothing, amusement flooding your expression as you pursed your lips. A flurry of emotions came raining down on him and the sight was very much obvious to you. Nodding, you hum and watch him for a moment more as he fidgets, before quickly stealing it back from him. He was never a match for your remarkable reflexes.

“Love, don’t,” he pleaded, voice adopting a higher pitch.

You quickly evaded the arms that tried so desperately to cage you against him, stepping onto his squeaky mattress. The letter immediately was raised over your head and just out of his reach, and he cringed when you pulled it from its envelope and opened the old trifolded piece of paper.

Ron had begun give up by this point, resigning to the fact that his unsent love letter was soon to be broadcasted back to him word by sappy word by the very same lover he’d written about. His face scrunched in humiliation as he gulped, flushing a deeper crimson as his lovestruck confessions were pulled from the tattered piece of parchment and spoken into the room. He meant every word, of course he did, he couldn’t imagine loving anyone as wholeheartedly as he did you. But this, this was mortifying.

His twenty-four year old self could have worded his feelings far better than when he was seventeen. Hearing his very own words made him wish the ground would open up and swallow him whole rather than to listen to another second of it. He was convinced he sounded much less mushy gushy and terribly absurd when he’d been under a love spell. The tips of his ears were now burning cherry red too.

He remembers the night he wrote it clear as day. He’d been so fed up with watching Cormac flirt with you every second of the day in an attempt to win your affections. It was near maddening to hear it, he thought it should have been him to make you laugh and swoon. It should have been him that made a rosy blush stain your cheeks. So he sat in his dorm and scribbled out his feelings in a rush, no matter how awfully worded, no matter how much of a hopeless romantic it made him sound. He was in love with you, that much was evident.

He’d written anything and everything that came to his mind, trying his hardest not to sound like McLaggen. One after another, the crumpled pieces of parchment were beginning to accumulate around him until he came up with what he deemed to be the ideal version. But then he thought better of it, hastily stuffing it to the bottom of his trunk when he convinced himself it was a one-sided attraction. It hadn’t been touched since then, until now of course.

“I think they’ve called us…for dinner!” He splutters out, trying desperately to divert your attention away from the page before you could get any farther. He grabbed your hand and tugged you towards him, only eliciting a laugh from you. Of course you hadn’t batted an eye at his pitiful attempts at being distracting.

“‘Your eyes shine brighter than any star in the night sky’…” you carry on in merriment, paper still outstretched above your head as he let his hand fall back to his side.

“Bloody hell,” he curses to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose as he endured your teasing. He felt like a terrible knock-off of Shakespeare at this point, but with much less eloquence and far more cliches stuffed in that ridiculous letter to last a life time or even two. Regardless, he lets his eyes fall closed as he sighs heavily, listening to the love of his life giggle endlessly at said cliches scrawled messily on the paper. Perhaps the more embarrassing part was that he’d once thought it was absolutely brilliant.

He could feel the prickling heat continuing to burn in his cheeks and travel further down his neck, not knowing where to look. Anywhere but you seemed like a viable option to him. Perhaps never showing his face to you again would be even better.

“‘Every time you look at me, it feels like there’s a million butterflies in my stomach’…” you quote, and Ron once again finds himself hopelessly reaching for the page but you only swat him away and take a few wobbly steps back. “‘Your laugh is ever so angelic; you’re my sun, my moon, and all my stars’—”

“Give me tha—”

He cuts himself short as he watches your playfully taunting smile begin to fade and your jovial laughter die down, watches as you slowly lower the letter below your head. The way you blindly step down from the bed as you read out the last line ever so softly, tucking your hair behind your ear so it wouldn’t keep you from reading it.

“You have a hold on my heart, one I’m afraid will never falter. I’m entirely yours, if you’ll have me, Y/n. I love you. I love you.”

Your eyes linger on the very last lines for a few moments as you reread it a couple times over, mouth hanging slightly agape as you let the words wash over you. The entirety of that letter was impossibly cheesy and sweet but that, that was something else entirely. That was something that made your heart flutter wildly in your chest. Even after all these years, reading those very words made you feel like it was the first time they were ever spoken, he always had a habit of doing that. Each time they were declared it gave you butterflies, whether it was quick murmur before work or if it was thoughtfully spoken when you were tangled up and half asleep in the early morning hours. But this left you breathless.

Meanwhile, Ron was beginning to panic at your lack of response. He wasn’t entirely sure why, it’s not like he hasn’t already admitted those very feelings to you a million times before. You’d been together for nearly seven years yet he was still nervous as if he hadn’t admitted it yet. As if he’d actually given you that letter like he intended to and you’d just discovered the way he felt about you.

“Love?” He manages to say, swallowing thickly as he tried to read your expression carefully.

You gingerly fold the letter along its previous creases and tuck it back in it’s rightful envelope, meeting his eyes before you smiled brightly. “I’ve got a hold on your heart?”

He bites the inside of his cheek to hide his smile though his efforts quickly become futile the more he looks at you. It’s impossible to not smile when he looks at you. “Yeah,” he nods, a small laugh leaving him. “Yeah, you really do.”

Your hands settle on his cheeks as you lean on your toes as the envelope spirals to the floor, your lips melding in a kiss that just might have been sweeter than that letter. His arms snake around your waist as he brought you closer, the sweater you thought you needed moments before no match for the warmth blossoming in your chest in the current moment.

“I love you,” you whisper softly against his lips, kissing him once more. You found that the more you did so, the harder it was to stop. “I love you.”

You could feel his breathy laugh puff against your own lips when you parted from him reluctantly, not missing the way he chased you for more adorably as his nose brushes against yours.

“Y/n?” He says softly, tucking his face in the crook of your neck to conceal the bout of laughter threatening to spill.

“What?”

You were beginning to grow concerned a few silent moments pass until you felt his his breath against your skin. He was laughing.

“What would you do if I told you Harry helped me a tiny bit with that letter?” He murmured with a gentle squeeze, his lips pressing just below your ear. He braced himself for the swat you landed on his arm, his laughter ringing out into the small room. “I’m kidding!”

He pulled you back into him by a grip on your hand, the faux offense you held now dissipating entirely as his forehead rests on yours with a soft nudge of his nose. His sigh tickles warmly against your skin and is filled with nothing but content, his eyes fluttering closed as he smiles blissfully. You rest your arms on his shoulders, your fingers tangling in the red hair at the nape of his neck.

“Ron?” You ask after a little while, pressing a kiss to his lips. You wait for his hum before you continue. “Is my laugh really angelic?”

He nips at your nose softly as he chuckles, your laughter mingling in the close proximity. He’d do anything to hear you laugh, to keep you smiling. “It really is, love.”

You’re beaming by this point, your lips pressing to his in a much longer kiss as you lean on your toes. His hand settles on your cheek, thumb brushing over flushed skin as he begins to smile. He nearly swept you off your feet with how he made you feel, and he would’ve kissed you forever if his mother hadn’t actually called for dinner this time. Though he paid it no mind for a few moments longer, basking in the taste of your kiss until his family’s calls was unable to be ignored.

“We better go,” you murmur, his lips ghosting over yours.

“Yeah,” he kisses you again, “we better.”

—

Tags: @vogueweasley @loony-loopy-lupinn @theweasleysredhair @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq

#ron weasley #ron weasley one shot #ron weasley fanfiction #ron weasley x you #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley fluff #ron weasly imagine #ron weasley headcanon #ron weasley angst #harry potter fic

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Battle Scars and Wedding Rings // H.P.

Request: Hi lovely! Would you be able to write a harry potter x reader where reader is a healer and takes care of Harry after he comes back home injured from a mission? (Harry and reader are married) thanks in advance! I love your fics so much 💕 - anon 

A/N: God, I love writing healer fics. I love writing healing fics. I’m so happy with how this turned out, I haven't written anything this long in a while so it makes a nice change. I hope you like!

Warnings: mentions of injuries, mentions of procedures and hospitals she/her pronouns, use of ‘wife’ and ‘woman’. FLUFF AND COMFORT FOR OUR MAN, HARRY.

Word count: 4.1k

Harry blinks up at the fluorescent light dizzily; a headache starting to form behind his eyes. Gingerly, he reaches up and removes his glasses, rubbing at his eyes to see if that improves his vision.

It doesn’t. If anything, it makes it worse.

He groans as the pounding in his head becomes worse. Now, he can hear his pulse sounding in his ears and he wonders briefly how to silence it. He’s a wizard who in his teens conquered the darkest wizard to have ever roamed the earth, yet right now, he can’t seem to remember a simply numbing spell to ease the effects of his headache.

Harry flinches as the curtain to his exam room is pulled back, but he relaxes the moment he hears your voice. “Love?” You ask, “Is this why you couldn’t make it home for dinner?”

Harry groans as he pulls himself to a sitting position; pausing partway to stave off the wave of dizziness overtaking him. He hadn’t felt this bad since he fell off his broom in Third Year; waking up in the hospital wing of Hogwarts with little to no recollection of the match and his injury.

You titter as you rush over to him; forming incomplete words as you help him sit up. Gently, you run a hand through his too long hair, dropping a kiss to the forever messy locks.

“How are you feeling?”

Harry sighs, “Malfoy checked me over. I have a concussion and a few broken ribs. Looks like I’m taking it easy for the next few weeks.”

You frown, “Did Draco leave your x-rays?”

Harry nods, not seeing the point in fighting with you. He knew Draco knew his stuff; he also knew that you knew Draco was far more than qualified for his job in the emergency room, but as a Healer yourself and someone in love with the patient, you saw it fit to check out the scans yourself.

You hold his x-rays up to the lightbox, inhaling deeply when you see the breaks in three ribs on his right and two ribs on his left. Clamping your lips against the wave of tears that threaten to appear, you turn to your husband, “Do I want to know what happened this time?”

Harry shakes his head, but he answers all the same, unable to keep anything from you, “A damned raid went wrong. I got blown back against a wall; hit my head and felt my ribs crack.”

You hold your hand to your mouth; worry alight in your eyes. “You’re not in pain anywhere else?” You ask; your Healer hat on for the time being until you’re at home and in private where you can let yourself feel the near loss of your husband without the prying eyes and ears of your colleagues and patients.

“No, just my head and ribs,” He replies wincing at the pain growing ever larger inside of his head.

Panic settles over his for just a moment; it’s been years since he felt this sort of pain. It’s been years since his head had hurt so bad that he wondered whether the faded scar on his forehead was truly coming back to life. He rushes the very thought from his mind; instead, honing his attention back in on your worried but loving face.

It wasn’t the first time you had been called away from home or a patient to see to him, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. However, with each call, you get more worried. The little voice in the back of your head taunts you with questions of which injury will finally be the one to make him stop; which injury will be the one that finally comes too close to taking him from you for good.

You had already experienced the numb sensation of what losing Harry would feel like. You were there that day when the Dark Lord had his body carried into the courtyard for the remaining student body and teachers of Hogwarts to see. You watched as the twisted wizard gleefully declared his death.

You could never forget the numbness that settled over you like a weighted blanket. Never in your days had you experienced a feeling like it, and with Harry’s risky choice in profession, you could only pray to Merlin that you would never feel it again. It would be too soon; it would always be too soon.

Your attention comes back to the small exam room at the feel of Harry’s hand on yours. He watches you with a quizzical expression, “Where did you go just now?”

You shake your head, “Nowhere of importance.”

He brings your left hand up to his lips; kissing the finger upon which a golden band sat, “Everything you do and everywhere you go is of importance to me.”

You roll your eyes with a smile; stepping closer to your husband, “Don’t try to get on my good side, Potter. I’m still pissed at you.”

Harry huffs a laugh before stopping abruptly at the pain lancing through both sides of his body. He smiles weakly, “You have every right to be pissed, but can you be pissed off at home? I really want to go to bed.”

Fondness for the man in front of you rushes through your body. You caress his cheek; your thumb brushing over his cheekbone, taking in the scratches that litter his face. A consequence of hitting the ground. You smile softly at him, “Let’s go home, Harry.”

-----

You decide against apparition. The swiftness of it would be too much pressure on Harry’s ribs and any further injury was something he, and your sanity, could not afford.

Instead, you wander slowly to the tube, helping Harry down the stairs to the platform and giving him the only empty seat on the carriage. He begins to protest – ever the gentleman – but a stern look from you has his argument dying on his tongue.

He remains quiet on the ride home; his mind caught in his earlier panic. Truthfully, he’s had two panics tonight. One in the exam room when the pain in his head started to become too much for him to manage, and two, earlier when he was blown back against a wall and started to lose consciousness. His only thought in those final few moments before darkness descended was of you – your eyes, your smile, your kiss. They were all of you.

When he came too in the emergency room with Draco Malfoy sitting in the corner of the room, he wondered briefly whether this was it. However, soothing words from the friend he once considered an enemy had him calming down enough for his ribs to stop screaming in agony.

The fresh air helps as the two of you walk from the tube station home. The summer evening air helping him take deeper breaths as he inhales the heady floral scents coming from the numerous gardens lining their street.

He keeps a hand on his right side as he steps up to the front door. Harry watches you rifle in your bag for your keys; thinking that your bag reminds him of the one Hermione charmed in their Seventh Year. You flash Harry a wide, triumphant smile as you pull the set of keys from your bag. The keyrings clink together as you unlock the front door and sigh, turning to him, barring him from entry for one moment.

You look him up and down, “What do you want to do? Bed or couch?”

Harry glances inside the house; his eyes flicker to the stairs and then to the living room door. He sighs painfully as he answers, “Bed, please.”

You nod, smiling reassuringly as the man you have loved since you were sixteen. You hold your hand out to him which he takes gratefully. “Bed it is,” You smile.

It’s slow going; pausing every two or three steps for Harry to catch his breath and to ride out the wave of pain that brings it with nausea and dizziness. You walk behind him; your hands at the ready should you need to catch him if he should trip or fall backwards.

Harry takes a seat on the edge of your shared bed; a pained expression leeching all colour from his face.

“I take it you don’t want the bath I’m about to offer?” You ask; hands on your hips as you take in the pale face of your husband.

He shakes his head wordlessly; apologies written in his green eyes.

You frown as you wander over to his dresser, pulling out the comfiest pieces of clothing he owns as well as a shirt for yourself. Quickly, you change out of your shirt and throw Harry’s on; the familiar and welcoming scent of broom oil and sweet orange washing over you.

Turning back to your injured husband, you find him watching you with a faint blush on his face. Harry’s pain forgotten for an instant as he watched you change into his clothing; it was his weakness, seeing you in his shirt or his jumper. He loved how his clothing melded itself to your every dip and curve; he adored the feel of the material against your skin when he slid the hem of shirt that little bit higher on your waist.

You hold up the items of clothing; letting Harry inspect them before wandering back to bed where he sits patiently waiting. He nods at your choices; not overly fussed as to what he’s going to be dressed in to sleep so long as he’s comfy.

“Lift your arms as high as they can go, and I’ll do the rest.”

Harry does so; lifting his arms to the point where his ribs begin to scream for mercy. He hates the fact that his bottom lip begins to wibble form the effort, but he’s had enough broken bones and other injuries to warrant a wobbly bottom lip should he want to.

Dark purple bruises litter both sides of his body; they spread to his back and you can’t help but feel sick at the sight of them. As you peel off his work shirt, you think back to the month leading up to your wedding where the majority of the time was spent in deliberation over your vows. You had written all what you wanted to say; covered all what you felt for the Boy Who Lived and yet you still had one more vow to make. It was a vow of protection; to keep him from harm a soften as you do. It didn’t help that he had chosen to train in one of the riskiest professions within the wizarding world, but as you were training to become aa Healer, you never gave it much thought.

Now, years down the line, you couldn’t help but wonder whether your vow of protection had been faulty. The voice of doubt within your head pestering you about it until you finally snap back at it; claiming that no, it was you who nursed him back to health after any injury and it was you who waited up at night for him to return from a mission. If that wasn’t a spell of protection, you didn’t know what was.

Fighting back tears, you reach for the t-shirt you had discarded the moment you reached Harry’s side. With some adjusting, you slide the t-shirt over his head and help pull his arms through the holes before settling it over his bruised and battered body. After that, you have him stand for a minute so you can pull of his trousers and help him stand into his joggers. By the time, he’s out of breath and squeezing his eyes shut from the pain.

However, he doesn’t miss how your breathing hitches and your hands falter on the fastenings of his joggers. He doesn’t miss the silver lining your eyes and the slight wobble to your bottom lip.  

“Hey,” Harry starts; voice quiet and full of love, “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head; letting a single sob leave your mouth as you fold up his work clothes, making a mental note to throw them in the washing box. A hand on your arm has you stopping this action. You meet his eyes; seeing nothing but love and concern for your welfare.

You want to laugh, because of course. Of course with a concussion and five broken ribs, Harry’s concerned about you; about how you’re feeling.

In an equally concerned voice, Harry repeats his question, “Love, what’s wrong?”

In a fit of helplessness, you gesture to his entire body to which he responds by furrowing his eyebrows. “I’m going to need more than that,” He prompts; smile wane.

“I just,” You start; pausing for breath and to think of the words, “I didn’t expect to see you so bruised. You’ve been injured before and I’ve healed you before but seeing the extent of your bruising just makes it all the more real.”

“Love…” Harry whispers, patting the empty bed next to him.

Sniffling, you sit next to him gingerly, careful not to jostle him too much for the fear of exacerbating his wounds. “Have you ever thought of stepping back from the missions?”

“Darling…” Harry starts, comfort already resounding in his voice, “This is what I’m trained for.”

You sniffle, fiddling with your fingers, “I know that, I do, but I can’t help but be worried each time you tell me you’re going on a mission.”

Harry sighs; turning his head slightly to press a kiss to your temple, “If we look on the bright side, this has the been the worst injury I’ve had for months.”

You groan, “You’ve jinxed us now, love.”

Harry laughs; stopping abruptly at the lance of pain in his right side, “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

You hum, “We’ve been through worse.”

“We’ve been through worse,” Harry echoes; the very words that had become a mantra through your marriage and each injury. Whenever it seemed bad; whenever the dark cloud of grief or sadness loomed, you reminded each other, you’ve been through worse and survived – so why should this time be any different?

You shake your head; swiping away the freshly fallen tears and plaster a smile on your face. You lean over, gently placing a kiss on Harry’s cheek before saying, “I have an idea.”

He raises an eyebrow intrigued at your words.

“How about I go make us some hot water bottles? Then we don’t need to worry about too much jostling in the night to get warm,” You suggest; eyes darting between the scratches on his face to the way he holds himself up on the bed. Heat would help relax the muscles that are surely to get stiff overnight and will help distract him from any pain that flares up as he sleeps.

Harry nods; a small smile on his lips as he answers, “I could go for a hot water bottle right now, but don’t take too long, please?”

You raise an eyebrow, “Why? Got big plans for me, Potter?”

Harry smirks, patting the bed. His humour still alive despite the pain, “Massive plans and they all involve this bed.”

You cackle as you head towards the door, practically singing your reply, “I’ll try not to be too long then.”

You’re gone for a few minutes. Harry uses this time to think back over the long and winding course of your relationship.

He remembers being seventeen years old, in love and terrified. He remembers stuttering through his explanation as to why he couldn’t love you the way he wanted to right now.

He thought that that would have been the end of this; you would wash your hands of him then and there, but instead you kissed him. You kissed him and made him promise to return to you in one piece.

A promise he barely kept; a promise he barely keeps today, he now thinks as he glances down at his aching body.

Harry thinks of after the war; of how you chose healing as your discipline after seeing the dead and injured lined up in the Great Hall. The stark contrast between the groans of the wounded and silence of the dead something that has stayed with the both of you since.

He thinks of how he almost proposed to you then and there. Covered in blood and dust, barely eighteen, but he’s happy that he chose to wait. He’s happy he had the two years with you before getting down on one knee and asking for your hand.

You re-enter the room with two heavily filled hot water bottles; each are wrapped in towels to keep from burning your feet as the both of you shuffle towards each other instinctively throughout the night.

You smile peacefully at Harry as you slide the hot water bottles into each side of the bed; Harry can tell that you’ve used this time to collect yourself. To have that moment you need after each injury to process what had happened and just how to move forward.

Harry knew all too well how much you hated seeing him hurt; after all, he felt the same way with you when you let a particular patient and their case get to you over the course of your shift. Harry doesn’t like to see you hurting over something you know you can fix.

It’s a balance that you both play off; that was how your marriage worked. You both took from the other but gave back just as much, if not more. Harry can’t think of a simple thing he wouldn’t do for you; he’s already won a war to not only save the wizarding world, but to love you without fear of a target on your back.

You pull the quilt back into place; patting the spot where the hot water bottles now lay, warming up the ends of the bed to stave off cold feet through the night. You make your way back to your husband; watching him with tired eyes, but eyes still filled with the same amount of love and adoration as there was at seventeen years old.

Running a hand through his hair, you glance at the clock on your bedside table and ask, “Do you remember what time you had a pain potion?”

Harry pushes his head into your hand; desperate to keep the contact between you two, “Long enough to need another.”

You nod your head; dipping slightly to brush your lips against his before rushing to the bathroom. Harry smiles like a fool in love as he brings a hand to his mouth whilst listening to your rifle around in the bathroom, opening drawers and cupboards looking for a pain potion.

Harry supposes he is a fool in love. He has been since he was seventeen years old and watching you from afar in the Great Hall at meal times. He’s been a fool for you for so long that he knows no other form, nor does he desire to know.

“Ha!” You shout from the bathroom; dancing into the bedroom with the familiar shaped bottle of pain potion in your hand with a small measuring cup in the other. Carefully, with a trained eye, you pour out the right amount before handing it to Harry.

Harry grimaces as he down the potion; immediately feeling its effects. The pain potion had been around for centuries, and yet, no witch or wizard had been able to find a cure for the acrid lingering aftertaste.

“How does that feel?” You ask; placing the dark blue glass bottle on the bedside table by Harry’s side, knowing he would need more through the night and wanting close by.

Harry takes a breath, enjoying the painlessness of it. He smiles at you, “Good, for now.”

You grin at him, “So good that you think you could manage getting into bed?”

Harry chuckles, “Broken ribs will not stop me from sleeping by my wife. Not now, not ever.”

You bite your lip against the wave of adoration that washes over you. There were times in your relationship and then your marriage where the simplest things said by Harry nearly always turned out to be what you cherished most. You know that he most likely didn’t think twice before saying what he said, but those words settle into your heart, making a home there for you to pull out and revisit should you ever feel low. Simple words that leave your husband’s mouth but affect you so much.

You hold your hands for him to take which he does. You take bis weight as he pulls himself up, standing, pressed against you. Harry takes this opportunity to draw you into a longer kiss; a languid kiss that has you dropping his hands in favour for winding them around his neck to tug him closer. However, right at the last minute, you remember his broken ribs and you pull back with a sigh.

You caress his cheek, “I know what you were trying to do, Potter, and it isn’t working tonight.”

Harry smiles cheekily; the pain potion taking full effect now, “I’m not sure what you mean, Potter.”

You beam at the use of your married name. With a fond shake of your head, you gesture to the bed, “Come on, let’s get comfy before we fall asleep.”

It doesn’t take half as long to get Harry settled into bed; propped up against a wall of pillows and your headboard before you make your way to your side of bed, propping yourself up just as high. Childishly, you rub your feet against the bedsheet, revelling in the warmth being spread by the hot water bottles placed there only moments ago.

Harry chuckles at your action before mimicking it; happy to have some warmth seeping through his body instead of the air conditioned emergency room at St. Mungo’s.

Harry shuffles for a second more before finally uttering ‘Nox’ and plunging the room into darkness.

In the dark of the room, you reach for his hand. Tangling your fingers together, you say, “I’m not asking for you to quit your job, Harry. You love it too much to do so, but I’m asking you to think about slowing down a little. To not jump at each offer of a mission, to think about what could happen,” You pause, “I’m rather fond of you coming home, you know.”

Harry releases a shuddering breath. His sides aching with the effort. He lets himself breathe for a minute or two, counting the breaths in and out of his body. Eventually, as the pain lessens slightly, he says, “I think you’re right.”

“You do?”

Harry nods, “I’m rather fond of coming home to you too as it happens.”

Carefully, cautious of not jostling the bed too much, you shift onto your side, facing him in the dark. “What do you want to do?” You ask; curious to his thoughts on the matter.

Harry sighs, bringing a hand up to rub at his face. “I don’t know,” He starts, “I want to continue working, but I don’t think I can continue if getting this injured is part of the job.”

You purse your lips; attempting to think of a solution when it hits you all at once. You grip Harry’s hand tighter in the dark, “Didn’t you say that Auror Clare is retiring next month?”

“Yes…” Harry comments; voice apprehensive and curious to see where you’re going.

“Why don’t you put your name forward for his job? They haven’t found anyone yet, right?”

Harry blinks once, twice, three times as the idea settles in his mind. Soon enough, a large smile spreads across his face as he begins to nod rapidly, “Love, that’s an excellent idea. I’ve done more than enough field work to prepare me to train new recruits.”

You smile into the dark, “What do you think? Will you put your name forward?”

Slowly, taking care not to stretch too much, Harry reaches for your left hand and places kiss after kiss to the wedding band sitting there. “I think it’s a great idea, I’m going to send an owl to Auror Michaels tomorrow and put my name forward,” Harry pauses for a single second before whispering – something akin to awe in his voice, “How did I get so lucky to have someone like you fall in love with me?”

Feeling nothing but sheer yearning to be close to your husband, you slide over to him, resting your head gingerly on his shoulder. You tilt your face up, placing a kiss to the jawline that has only become more defined over the years. As your eyes begin to droop and a yawn overtakes your body, you whisper to him, “How did we get so lucky to find each other?”

**********

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[unknowncountrygirl]

Drunken Confession: Ben

Jae arrived in his typical outlandish behavior, wielding two large bottles of Fire Whiskey.

“Look alive boys, our Thursday night just got a lot more interesting!”

“Where did-” Charlie started but waved his hand, “you know what, never mind, I don't want to know.”

“I got cups in my trunk! Gather round boys, it's going to be a good night! Hope you don't have anywhere to go early in the morning.” He summoned his and Murphy's side tables and put them back to back to make a small table in the middle of the room. He then placed the two, rather large bottles on the tables, and went to dig in his trunk.

“This is?” Orion questioned, picking up one of the bottles.

“Irish brewed Firewhiskey, aged in barrels for years. It's the good stuff.” Jae mentioned, placing a array of cups on the table.

“You and I have different ideas of what good stuff is.” Murphy eyed the amber liquid that Orion was sloshing around.

Charlie got off his bed and walked over, looking at the small shot glasses.

“So... You brought it for us all to try?” He asked innocently.

“I have something actually more interesting in mind.” Jae said slyly. “Unless you are all a bunch of softies.”

“Hardly.” Ben replied deadpanned, picking up the second bottle to crack it open, and began to pour it into the glasses, filling them to the top. “What were you thinking Jae?”

“We've all known one another years now, lets get to know each other a little bit better.”

“This is your way of just trying to get information from us that you can blackmail us with later.” Murphy looked up at Jae, feeling very suspicious of him. Jae said nothing, just smiled slyly and took his shot before pouring himself another.

“Take a drink if you have ever used a unregulated potion, I'll go first.” He took a large gulp of the amber liquid. Ben lifted an eyebrow, but played along and poured himself a drink before taking a drink. Charlie, Orion, and Murphy simply nodded as they were handed their own drinks, not touching the liquid to their lips.

“Take a drink if you've ever... Seen a dragon?” Charlie tried. Jae, Ben, and Charlie took long sips.

“You are going to have to include something that we have done.” Murphy almost pouted with a smile on his lips. “Like if you've been voted most dashing Quidditch Commentator.” It was silly, but an excuse to take a drink himself.

About 20 questions, some laughter, light conversation, and the entire first bottle of Fire Whiskey, most of the boys were starting to feel the effects. Ben and Jae held their liquor the best, more then likely because this was not either one's first time drinking underage. Charlie and Murphy were about one drink away from being completely gassed, and Orion was one away from finding world peace.

“Oh, I've got a good one.” Jae slurred slightly. “Take a drink if you've ever had a crush-” All the boys lifted their drinks, but Jae finished his thought, “on Iris!” They all laughed lightly, but the laughter died out when all five of the boys continued to take a shot.

Murphy and Charlie almost immediately sobered up, and Ben froze like a statue.

“Soooo, we have all had dreams of Iris Rosewood?” Orion clarified.

“Is that a question we are suppose to drink to?” Murphy questioned, looking down into his glass.

“More clarification, perhaps I shall word it this way...” Orion drawled, “if you have a crush on Iris.”

Again, the room fell silent as all five boys took another shot.

A couple of the cleared their throats, Jae coughed into his hand. It had become incredibly awkward, incredibly fast.

“This is uncomfortable.” Charlie broke the silence.

“You all may have crushes on her... But I've loved her.” Ben admitted, swirling his Firewhiskey in his cup. “We have been through too much, and she's been there every step of the way for me.” The other boys stopped murmuring and looked at him. “She brought color and vibrancy into my world and I repaid her by hurting her. Hell, all I ever wanted to do is make sure no one ever hurt her and I think by doing that I've been the one to hurt her the most.” He stated more to himself then anyone else in the room. “I think I've done so much damage that no matter how much I love her, what hope I ever had that she could reciprocate is gone. It died when Rowan did.” The air in the room when from light and jovial to heavy and dark in just a few sentences. “I'm going for a walk.”

“If you get caught after curfew-”

“What? Get detention?” Ben stood, grabbed a jacket of his that had been on the end of his bed and left the dormitory.

His foggy mind supplied that going to the Forbidden Forest was a good idea, and he headed that way. Thunder boomed and lightning popped overhead and he thought briefly about heading back but he continued.

Half way down to the forbidden forest, the sky opened up and let down a torrential rain like Hogwarts had not seen in a very long time. Ben hated getting caught in the rain and made a beeline for Hagrid's hut, hoping the half giant wouldn't mind if he waited out the storm in his house. In about twenty steps he was pushing the door open and going inside.

It was dry and he pulled his wool sweater off and shook his hair to remove excess moisture.

“Hagrid?” He called, but there was no light on and Fang lifted his head up to give him a look. He figured Hagrid must not have been there and walked over to the fireplace and put some logs in a pile to start a fire. He ran his hand over the mantle feeling for matches or anything, but decided to cast a simple spell to ignite the wood. There was instant warmth in the hut as he held his hands out, warming his fingers.

The door to the hut opened, and he turned, his wand at the ready to see a figure in the doorway that was far to small to be Hagrid.

“Ben?” The voice called, before stepping into the light of the fire.

“Iris?” He asked, sliding his wand up his sleeve. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was looking for Moondew for growth potion, I need it for my Herbology project and Snape is being greedy.” Iris explained as she peeled her wet rain slicker off and hung it on the coat rack. “What are you doing out here? Isn't it past curfew?” Ben opened his mouth to tell her, she cut him off. “Never mind.”

“What?” “You'll just say something snarky and I've had a good day, so we'll just leave it alone.” Iris stated as she took out the little jar from her bag and inspected her Moondew leaves. He was about to remark that he wouldn't have done that, but that in itself would just prove her right.

She placed the small corked bottle on the table and stepped over to the fire.

“Where's Hagrid?” He asked.

“He's presenting at the Ministry about Thestrals. He won't be back until tomorrow I think.” She informed him, holding her hands out to the fire, a content look on her face. “Fancy a snack? I know where Hagrid keeps his tea, and I have some chocolate and orange scone in my bag.”

“Why do you have scones with you?”

“I wasn't sure how long I'd have to look for the Moondew, so I brought something to eat with me. Plus sometimes I have to bribe Fang to come with me.” She explained as she went to collect the tea he had stashed on a shelf and get the kettle ready over the fire. Ben felt himself blink rather hard, the effects of the Fire Whiskey starting to turn on him. He was suddenly very hot, and the room was a bit spinny.

He had already shed his sweater, and unbuttoned his collared shirt before he made to sit down on the rug in front of the fire. In hindsight, he should have sat farther from the fire, but he honestly wondered if he would even be able to make it to the chair without spilling himself on the floor anyway. Iris was also Head Girl, if she found out he had been drinking she would either have to report him or deal with it herself and he didn't want to incur her wrath.

He twisted his neck, feeling a pop that seemed to relax him as Iris held out a plate with the scones on it. He took a bite,

“these are really good. Did the house elves make this?”

“Oh no, I've made friends with Pits, he let me make some yesterday down in the kitchens.” Iris explained as she tenderly added the tea into a pot and poured the hot water into the hilariously floral teapot that Hagrid had.

“You could make friends with a dung beetle.” He joked, only partially. She laughed lightly.

They sat in silence for a while before the tea was ready and he watched as Iris poured the tea into two mix matched floral cups and handed him one. He reached for the cream and noticed that Iris blew on hers and drank it straight. It was a new little tidbit of information for him to lock away.

“Do you remember back in 2nd year, you wouldn't go up into the astronomy tower so we turned the artifact rooms ceiling into the night sky?” Iris asked suddenly.

“What made you think about that?” Ben asked as he looked over at her. She shrugged.

“We had tea and scones then, remember?” She gestured at the scones with her teacup. “I just... I like that memory.” Iris admitted.

“Back when I was afraid to even-”

“Would you just shut up!” Iris snapped, clacking her teacup loudly against the saucer. “It's a memory that makes me smile, and that I enjoy, why do you constantly try and belittle things that make me happy? Are you that full of bitterness anymore that you won't let anyone enjoy something as simple as a memory?”

“You're defensive tonight, what has you so wound up?” He snapped back just as angrily.

“I'm defensive?” Iris shouted, standing up to tower over Ben, ready for a fight that had been brewing for weeks. “You're the one that can't even let me relive a memory from when we were twelve without you belittling it!”

“I don't like reliving those memories, it was when I was weak-”

“It was when you were kind.” Iris cut in dangerously. He placed his hands on the floor and hoped that he could stand without falling over. He stood on his feet and looked down at her, truly looked at her for what felt like the first time in weeks.

Iris used to have this childlike innocence about her, with her round baby face, porcelain skin, blue eyes that were wide open for the world. He wasn't exactly sure when the last time he took the time to study her, more then likely before Rowan died, and it looked like everything she had experienced had finally caught up with her.

It was only a matter of time, one can only keep loading the camels back before something as simple as a napkin will break their back. He wondered when it was that Iris had finally broke, and wondered if anyone had even noticed. Iris was the unbreakable, she was the epitome of what people wanted to be, of course people thought she was sturdy as stone. They had taken her for granted.

Hell, he had.

Her lips were almost always in a natural smile, now seemed to be downturned in nature. Her eyes, those were what had grabbed him when he first made eye contact with her because he had never seen eyes that were just that blue, had always been bright and happy. Now, they looked like the good china that people put away for safe keeping, dust piling on it where you can see the color, its just muted. Everything about her seemed muted. Her skin, her hair, she was a soul with the weight of a Kingdom on her shoulders. There was more expectations on her at seventeen then that of twenty people.

Ben felt regret in his belly, and he couldn't keep up this conversation. He knew she was far too close and one push would send her over that edge. He had done enough to push her there, he wasn't going to be the one that pushed her to the breaking point.

“I'm not going to have this conversation.” He shook his head, beginning to button up the few buttons he had loosened earlier. Rain be damned, if he had to get soaked to get away from her and let her cool down, he would. He was just about to walk to the door when Iris called,

“You want to know what I think?” Iris told him firmly, it was not really a question but a thinly veiled declaration masquerading as a question. “I think that you're still terrified.”

That stopped him in his tracks. His hand hovered over the door knob, and the rational part of his brain that would have told him to walk away was flooded by Firewhiskey. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” She was not going down this time, and she was not going to be ignored. “You are still the terrified Muggleborn you always were, only it's the fear that people will still see you as that person.”

“I am not-”

“I can see it in your eyes! You may be able to fool everyone else, but you can't fool me.” She pointed at herself. “I know you better then anyone, Benjamin Copper!” It was a fact that was mildly terrifying, and he hated to admit that. “It's a different type of terror, but it's still there and it still controls you down to your core-”

“No it doesn't! I'm a not that person anymore!” He shouted at her. It wasn't the first time he had raised his voice at her, but it felt much different then the times before. Because she had struck a nerve.

He wasn't the one in control anymore.

His delicate control that he had been clinging to since after the buried vault was quickly disinigrating in his hands and he was scrambling to keep it.

“You haven't become brave, you've become cruel!” Iris told him. He could almost see it like an actual image in his mind, she was taking a sledge hammer to his carefully constructed statue of power, bravery and control. Others had chipped away at it, but Iris had come in and went for the Achilles heel that only she seemed to know existed. “Your trauma is what navigates every single decision you have made! Every decision has been made in fear from the moment you stepped into Hogwarts!” Another critical hit, cracks that could never be fixed started to grow threatening to topple over all of himself.

“That's not true!” He yelled back at her, as though he was trying to convince himself.

“Really? Give me an example.” She dared him.

Her attack seemed to stop because she had chipped away and found the one part of his bravery that wasn't an act. That one tiny part of himself that had been bright and true since the beginning.

The part that she overlooked.

Because it was her.

“You.” He stated simply. Iris jumped a bit at the declaration, clearly not seeing his answer coming. “You terrified me. You were loud, outspoken, brave, already good at magic and dueling, you came from a pure blood family, and you were attractive. What wasn't intimidating about you? Especially to a muggleborn like me?” It was his turn to talk and he was going to seize the opportunity, as it seemed he had shocked her into silence in the middle of a fight. “But I approached you first, remember that? I thanked you for standing up to Merula. My palms were sweaty, my heart was racing, I felt like I was going to vomit, yet I rejected that fear to talk to you because there was something about you that felt like a damn gravitational pull!” He took a step closer to her and she held her ground, starring up at him. Her eyes were still alight with fire but there was something else there, a vulnerability that he had seen in her eyes too often since the buried vault. “From brooms and books, to time in the artifact room, I cared about you more then I cared about anyone else, so much so that I went with you to the buried vault! Despite the fact that I thought I would die, I went because I cared more about you then I did myself!”

Iris's lips were in a tight line, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she shook her head.

“Ben don't.” She warned, almost knowing where he was going.

“You're right, every decision I have made has been in fear... The biggest fear I have above all others-”

“Ben stop!”

There was no stopping now. He had regained the control.

“The fear that some how, in some horrible way that I can't control, that you will be hurt or die because you put everyone ahead of yourself in the most reckless and honorable ways!” He felt like he had become a new man, and that he had become braver in the years since the buried vault, but the fire whiskey in his veins was a form of liquid courage that he was sure no potion could replicate. His thought process was interrupted by stinging on his cheek.

Iris had slapped him.  

“Don't you dare say it.” She warned, her voice like ice. “Not after the way you have treated me-”

“I love you!” He wanted to shout it at her, hoping that if he yelled louder then her that she would realize he was being truthful, but all it would do is prove her point that he had just became cruel. She closed her eyes, and he watched a her fight within herself, her fingers curled into fists and he was worried for a moment that she was going to deck him. “Iris.” He reached out and placed a hand over her curled fist, “I love you.”

She shook her head but made no effort to pull away from him. They had went to war with one another and now both stood in front of their dismantled battlements.

Iris was the first to move, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his sternum.  

“I miss you, Ben.” Iris almost sobbed. His hands let go of her fists, and wrapped protectively around her back, holding her tightly. He lowered his head, his nose resting on the top of her head and breathed deeply.

He had finally admitted it, and said it out loud, given it a sense of being. He felt like a weight had been lifted, and he didn't know he had been carrying it around with him.

“I'll work on being less cruel, and more kind again.” He promised her.

“I'll accept that.” Her hands that had been balled up and resting against him opened and she laid her palms and fingers out flat against his chest, before moving them up to wrap around his neck and pull him into a hug. She had to stand on her tip toes in order to get her chin to rest on his shoulders. “Remember when I used to be taller then you?” There was a lightness in her voice that he had missed, and he smiled.

“Yeah, now you're short.” He joked.

“You're no giant yourself.”

“At least I'm taller then you.”

“Everyone is, except for Professor Flitwick.”

“Even that's pretty close.” He laughed and she tapped the back of his head with her hand. She pulled back and looked into his eyes, and smiled gently, placing the hand that had previously slapped him delicately on his face.

“I'm sorry I slapped you.”

“I'm just surprised it took you this long to slap me.” He told her honestly. “I'm sorry that I've hurt you, and I'm going to endever to do better.” Iris nodded and wrapped her arms around him again and listened to how fast his heart was beating, and smiled, knowing hers was beating just as fast.

He had not expected his drunken evening walk to end like this.

#hphm ben copper #hphm ben #hphm fanfiction #hphm jacobs sibling #hphm imagine #ben copper #ben copper x jacobs sibling #ben copper imagine #ben copper x mc

[jean-kayak]

Chapter 1

Summary: A relaxing summer at home after your second year of college sounds nice, until someone comes back and makes it anything but

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x black!fem!reader

Chapter Warnings: cursing, a lot of sexual tension lmao

Word Count: 2139

A/N: Alright, here it is! I’ve been working on this for a while now, if you’ve been following my shitposts, and I’ve been really nervous to post it, so I would like to thank @styxtm​ for reading this chapter and giving me the confidence to post it! Hope you guys like it!

Tags: @her-majesty-kiara, @germfart3​, @styxtm​, @iwascrybaby​​

Chapter summary: Someone you’d never thought you’d see again literally walks back into your life

"When are you gonna be done? It's hot as fuck out here," you complain, waving a hand in front of your face, but it doesn't anything to cool you down, instead spreading the humid, sticky air across your face.

You hear Jean groan as you set down the tray of nails you have in your hands on the ground, throwing your hair up in a bun, getting the curls off of your neck. "Stop complaining. It's not even that bad."

"You chose to build a storage unit during one of the hottest days so far in the summer," you respond, and he just chuckles as he blindly holds his hand out. You pick through the different pieces, finding the one he needs before dropping it into his hand.

"My mom wanted it built, and my stepdad's been too busy, so I offered to do it."

"You offered to do it. I just came over here to hang out," you say, sighing heavily as you rest a hand on your hip.

You've been best friends with Jean since you were kids, growing up in the same neighborhood, literally living right next to each other, and when you graduated high school, you both ended up going to different colleges.

You had decided to stay on your college campus for the summer after your freshman, not ready to go back home yet. Now your sophomore year of college is over, and both you and Jean ended up coming back home to do who knows what, but ever since you both have come back, you've either been over his house or vice versa.

Both of your parents always joked about how it seemed like you two were separated at birth, constantly attached at the hip, and sometimes it really does feel like he's a brother to you. He was always there for you when your other friends weren't, and since you were an only child, he saved you multiples from boredom due to not having anyone to spend time with.

"I'm almost done, I just need you to help me hold this last wall." You walk over to where he's standing, resting your back against the wall as he screws in the last few nails. "Okay, I think that's it," he says, and you both walk back as you take in the new building.

You both tilt your head, the building finally seeming to stand upright. "How'd you manage to make it slanted?" you ask, and Jean sighs as he lets his head fall back in annoyance.

"I don't know," he says, looking through the instructions, and you look to your left as you scoff lightly.

"Well, those look like the foundation pieces," you comment, pointing to the plates that the building is supposed to be on top of. "You did good though, I just don't know how long the building will last."

"Whatever, I'm done. It's hot," he sighs and you bristle as you both start walking towards his house.

"Says the one who said it wasn't even that bad," you argue, and he waves you off.

"That's because the clouds were providing shade." You huff lightly at his weak counter.

"Yeah, okay." Your body nearly goes limp as you feel the cool air wrap around your body when you step into the house, Jean sliding the patio door closed, cutting off the stifling heat. You plop down on the loveseat, sinking down into the plush leather as it cools your heated skin.

"Heads up." You open your eyes in time to see Jean throwing you a bottle of water, and you catch it easily, opening it as he sits down on the couch. "What else are you planning on doing this summer?"

You shrug lazily. "I don't know. Party?" you try, and he raises an eyebrow at you.

"You want to spend the whole summer partying?"

"There's nothing else to do, and Ymir always finds the best parties." You had been friends with her since high school and by your senior year, you were joining her at a different party almost every other weekend. You wouldn't really say it was the best time of your life, but it definitely gave you a distraction from the current dilemma you were having at the time. "Pretty sure there'll be one soon since everyone's coming back. Unless you have any better ideas."

"I guess I'll go to a few, but I don't--"

The sound of the front door opening and an awfully familiar voice cuts Jean off. "Damn, it feels good in here." The dilemma walks into the living room, stopping when he sees you and Jean. "Oh, shit, what're you doing here?"

"At my house? I could ask you the same thing," Jean shoots back at his brother, and you feel a strong urge to leave, running back to your own house. "I thought you were staying in that city, why are you here, Eren?"

Eren fucking Jaeger. The stubborn dilemma you had to deal with all of your life, but it especially got worse to deal with once you got to high school. Probably the textbook definition of a bad boy, the sleeves of tattoos you can see on his arms and the piercings solidify it.

Oh, and he's also your best friend's older step-brother.

He shrugs. "Dunno. Guess I just wanted to come back, glad I did though." You look away when you see him smirk, knowing that last bit was geared towards you.

You stand up quickly, drinking some water in hopes that it hides your nerves well. "I'm starving. You got any food?" you ask Jean as you walk towards the kitchen, purposefully walking the long way so that you don't have to go anywhere near him.

"I don't know, you can look," he calls after you, and you can feel Eren's eyes on you as you walk, suddenly feeling very naked in your shorts and cropped tank top.

When you're in the safety of the kitchen and you hear the conversation between the siblings start, you sigh heavily as you rest your head against the counter. Of course, it would be just your fucking luck that he would come back.

You groan softly in frustration as you lift your head up and grab an orange, peeling it a little more aggressively than you should as you hop onto the counter. You huff slightly as you put a slice into your mouth. This is a total wreck in your plans.

To anyone else, it wouldn't seem like a big deal, but your history with Eren isn't the greatest. Maybe starting with the fact that you started to have a crush on him which ended up only blossoming once you got to high school. And the worst part was that everyone knew it. You know they did, but it's not like you were discreet about it.

You were just a naive teenager that was stupid enough to fall? Maybe not fall for him, but you definitely were stupid enough to think that he could possibly be into you.

Your inner turmoil is only fueled when he walks into the kitchen, you failing to notice that the conversation had stopped. You look down at your legs, swinging them as you continue to eat the orange, trying to focus on anything but the suffocating awkward tension in the room.

You can see him lean against the counter across from the one your sitting on, crossing his foot over his ankle. When you find yourself staring at his thighs and how tight his shorts are, you quickly look away. "So, how ya been?" he asks, and you find yourself rolling your eyes at his poor attempt to make small talk.

"Good," you answer, not even looking up, patting a simple rhythm on your thigh, his strong gaze on you making you feel some type of way. "College was fun," you add.

You hear him chuckle softly. "Yeah? Looks like it treated you really good."

You feel your face flush warm as you look up, and you hate your body still reacts the same way it did years back. It's your turn to take him in, and you bite your lip hesitantly, noticing that college treated him very well.

He does more than fill out his clothes, they're practically like a second skin the way they stretch out over his body. Your eyes trail over his inked arms, trying to make out everything that you can see. He's grown his hair out, it's longer now, opting for putting his hair up in a high bun, the silver piercings shining in the light when he turns his head slightly. Your eyes catch the simple gold chain around his neck, and you realize that you've been staring for too long.

"So, what are you doing here?" you ask, and you're genuinely asking because according to Jean, he wasn't supposed to be here, and you thought this summer was going to be smooth sailing.

"A little birdie told me that you were here, so..." he trails off with a shrug, and you squint your eyes at him.

"So, you came back just for me?"

"What if I told you I did?" You scoff as you toss the orange peel in the trashcan, putting the last two slices in your mouth.

"I would tell you," you start, finishing the slices. "That you're ridiculous." He hums as he smiles at you, moving away from the counter, standing in front of you.

"So, what's the deal with you and my brother anyway?" he questions suddenly, and you shake your head slowly.

"You mean like if I like him or something?" You scoff. "He's my best friend, and he's into someone else anyway."

He nods, his eyebrows creasing as he thinks. "Oh, yeah. That Mikasa chick, right? She's kinda hot."

"What do you want, Eren?" Now you're getting annoyed, and you hate how you feel that tiny fire of jealousy burning in your chest at his comment. He moves closer to you, and you don't even realize that your legs spread to fit his frame.

"There's a lot of things I want," he answers, resting his hands dangerously close to your thighs on the counter.

"Is one of those things to annoy the hell out of me?" you joke, and he chuckles as he nods his head.

"Maybe. That's one."

"A lot of people don't get what they want."

You feel your breathing hitch when he leans in closer to you, close enough that you can feel his breath fanning over your face. "I got all summer to get what I want."

You gulp harshly as you find it difficult to tear your eyes away from his. "What is it?" you ask, your voice a lot more airy than you want it to be.

He tilts his head to the side like he's thinking as you try to find a way out of this situation. "It's more of a who than an it," he tells you, and try to slow your breathing which you didn't even realize had picked up. That's how much of an effect he has on you, and you hate it.

"Well, I hope you get who you're looking for," you respond, but he doesn't move when you shift.

"Eren, leave her alone, she doesn't want anything to do with you," Jean yells from the living room, but Eren's eyes never leave yours as he grins.

"I think you beg to differ," he whispers, and you scoff.

"You would be terribly wrong." And it really is hard to lie when your body is screaming the truth.

"I would?" he questions, keeping his voice low, and you glance to your right, seeing that Jean can't see into the kitchen, and you jump when he pulls you into him by your thighs. Your lower half is touching him, and if you move your legs, they'll tighten around his waist, so you don't move. "You're not a very good liar," he says, his lips just in front of yours, so close that if you even lean in a smidge, you'd be kissing him.

"And that means?"

"Getting you right where I want you won't take all summer." Your mouth falls open slightly as your body goes warm all over. You need to get out of here before you do something you shouldn't.

"Eren, what the hell are you doing?" Eren gives you a wink before he moves away from you.

"Nothing, man. Just making small talk." He crosses his arms as he leans back against the counter, and you find yourself glued to your spot before your brain tells you to move, hopping off the counter, not giving him another look as you walk out of the kitchen, feeling his gaze burning into you.

So much for a relaxing summer.

|Masterlist|Chapter 2|

Taglist: CLOSED

#nothing changed #eren jaeger #eren yaeger #eren jaeger x reader #eren yaeger x reader #eren jaeger x you #eren yaeger x you #aot fanfiction #snk fanfiction

[jamespotterthefirst]

October 31st (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2.3K Warning: Language Premise: Ethan Ramsey doesn’t do costumes... except maybe for her.

A/N: A pointless Halloween fic

A/N2: For Day 28 of @choicesoctoberchallenge2020​. The prompt is “Costume”.

1. Intern Year

Ethan resisted a groan as an atrocious, remixed version of The Monster Mash blared through the speakers, eliciting a cheer from the drunken crowd. Characteristically, he pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes shut as he wondered why he decided to venture out on the worst night of the year. Perhaps he needed a drink that badly after another full day of dealing with interns.  

“Time for a refill, Dr. Ramsey,” a voice said over the music.

Ethan hated the way his pulse quickened at the sound.

Doing his best to appear collected, he shot what he hoped was an impassive glance at the figure now standing beside him at the bar, the floral notes of her perfume already caressing his every sense. One single glance at her, however, was enough to shoot all efforts of appearing aloof straight to hell.

She leaned casually against the bar, clad in a sensuous, forest green number that molded to every curve of her body and ensnared every bit of his attention. Dark green leaves embellished every surface of the sinfully short dress, tapering off into delicate, curly vines along her exposed shoulders and arms. Her glossy, dark hair was hidden away beneath a cascade of long, auburn waves that made her eyes appear greener still.

“Wig,” she explained with a small laugh when Ethan continued to stare.

At last, he pried his eyes away, feeling his neck flare with heat. Unsure of what else to say, he feigned indifference as he asked, “And what are you supposed to be, Rookie?”

Aside from fucking irresistible, his idiotic, addled brain added on impulse.

He could see Lilac's jaw go slack in a way that was almost comical but somehow managed to be entirely too adorable.

“You're kidding, right? I'm Poison Ivy.”

Ethan had known that. He had been, after all, a comic-book obsessed teenager once. If someone had told him back then that he would one day witness the sexiest version of the character imaginable, his head would have caved in on itself. Adult Ethan, it seemed, was no better because his eyes fell on her once again, unable to resist her magnetic pull.

Lilac, however, was too busy looking at the dancefloor. She nodded toward her group of friends, dancing, laughing, and contributing to half of the noise in the bar.

“We were all supposed to be Batman villains but Bryce and Landry got lazy. They put on a Thing One and Thing Two shirt and called it a day.”

Ethan followed her gaze to where the young surgeon had peeled off the aforementioned shirt, relishing in the attention that decision was earning him from a gaggle of girls nearby. The other one Lilac had mentioned stood awkwardly off to the side, too pale and and gangly to ever be Lahela's counterpart.

“More like tweedle dee and tweedle dum,” he muttered.

Lilac met his eyes at once and to his delight, she laughed, the sound sending his stomach into a dive. It was already maddening enough that the sound was entirely too attractive, but Ethan felt a swelling sense of satisfaction at being the one to inspire it.

When she sobered up, her green eyes remained on his, humor melting into a pensive expression. She continued to watch him with the conviction of someone discovering a new secret. He would have given anything to know what she was thinking at that very moment.

“What about you?”

“Hmm?”

He had been distracted by her full lips and by how fitting the damn costume was. Much like every weak-willed man in his comic books, Ethan would have risked absolutely everything to kiss her.

“No costume?”

“God no,” he spat, inspiring another little laugh.

“Never say never,” she told him in a sing-song voice.

“I can confidently say never.”

______________

2. A year later.

They paused outside the door to Bryce's apartment, the muffled sound of music and laughter making its way to the hall. Ethan briefly wondered if his neighbors would complain enough to derail the whole affair. It would mean he could go back to the peace and quiet of his home.

As if reading his mind, Lilac turned to face him, a knowing smile pulling at her lips. God, he loved it when she looked at him that way.

“You're not getting out of this,” she reminded him, her fingers moving to play with the orange Ascot tie she had forced him to wear.

“We're well into November. There was no need to dress up.”

As usual, Lilac rolled her eyes lovingly.

“It's hardly dressing up when all we did was put you in a white sweater you already owned, babe,” she explained for the hundredth time. Ethan tried to scowl at the pet name, but he was beginning to enjoy it. Instead, he relaxed into her touch, trying his best not to follow the lazy path her fingers made on his chest. “You wouldn't even wear a wig, so it doesn't count. As for the party being this late, it was the only night we all had off. And we'll be damned before we let a whole year pass us by without dressing up.”

She finalized that sentence with a searing kiss to his neck. His hands banded around her waist reflexively, pulling her soft body flush against his. In their time together, he had avidly learned the many ways to drive her just as crazy.

“You and I can still dress up,” he murmured darkly against her ear.

Lilac shivered, to his immense delight.

“Are you suggesting role play, Dr. Ramsey,” she returned in a poor attempt to mock him.

The formal mode of address, uttered in a low, breathy voice against his ear, made his blood buzz for her. More maddening still was the short, purple dress she wore along with the auburn wig that made a reappearance after a year.

“Got a thing for redheads?” she asked, correctly guessing the contents of his thoughts yet again.

Ethan smiled crookedly down at her. “I got a thing for you.”

The words rang with sincerity and an overwhelming sense of relief at finally being able to say them out loud, without any fear of consequences.

Lilac, for her part, looked as though she wanted to shove him against the wall and kiss him fiercely, but the erupting cheers from inside the apartment interrupted their exchange from advancing further.

“Mystery Gang in the house!” Bryce, dressed as a pirate, hollered as soon as they walked through the door. Everyone else cheered and hooted, the sounds no doubt fueled by the contents of the many red solo cups around the room.

“You guys look adorable!” Sienna commended over the music, greeting each of them with a friendly hug. “Fred and Daphne makes so much sense for you two.”

“Because we solve mysteries for a living?” Ethan asked, voice deadpan.

“Nah, because those two were a thing long before any of the others found out,” Elijah said as he joined them.

Lilac laughed out loud, the sound teetering on the edges of relief. She had been nervous, just like Ethan had been, that her friends would be awkward around them now that they knew of their relationship.

By the way they easily joked with him and included him in conversation throughout the night, their concerns had been for nothing. They even helped Lilac pressure him into dancing a modern pop song he had heard many times on the radio. Not that he needed much convincing when he would gladly do anything just to see her radiant smile directed his way.

By midnight, the party had dwindled down to drinks and board games. There was a raucous consensus to play Clue, which caused Bryce to roll his eyes.

“Of course the diagnosticians want to play the nerdiest game.”

Ethan rolled up his sleeves in preparation, which earned him a coy and borderline lustful look from Lilac. “You're just bitter that we're playing something other than beer pong, scalpel jockey.”

Elijah let out a surprised yet impressed laugh, wasting no time to high five Ethan. Even Bryce couldn't help but grin.

“Trash talk all you want, old man. I'm more than just a pretty face.”

When it came to Clue, however, Bryce had no chance against Ethan, who analyzed every player with sharp precision and correctly guessed the murderer, the room, and the weapon. Several games later, Ethan easily proved victorious while Bryce only laughed graciously, raising his palms up in defeat.

When even the board games ebbed into quiet conversation at the end of the night, Lilac sat on his lap, circling her arms around his neck. They sat like that for minutes, enjoying the nuances of being that annoyingly cute couple at a party.

“Thank you for dressing up for me,” she said as she pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

Even that sent his heart into a tumultuous rhythm.

“Only for you,” he murmured. “And as a one time deal only.”

______________

3. Many years later.

Ethan plastered the fur-lined hat on his head, a perfect complement to the fur-lined everything else he was currently wearing. Luckily, fall time in Boston was cold enough that the ensemble would prove to be practical as they walked the streets. He stepped into the hallway, not bothering to check his reflection. There was no doubt he looked utterly ridiculous.

But he didn't care.

He would do anything for her and for the unbridled joy in the eyes he loved so much.

Lilac was already waiting when he entered the living room, her smile impossibly wide as she glanced him over. It was the exact reaction he expected and he couldn't help but grin too.

“Is this how it's supposed to look?”

“Yes!” she all but shrieked in delight. The magenta cape of her costume fluttered behind her as she rushed to him, her body crashing against him in an overjoyed hug. “I love you so much for doing this.”

The words still sent a thrill through Ethan, as strong as the first time he heard them. Heart thundering wildly at his chest, he leaned down to kiss her, just because he could.

When they pulled apart, she watched him through half-closed eyes, her teeth catching her lush bottom lip. All Ethan wanted to do was carry her to their bed and tear off the costumes they had spent so much time perfecting. Inwardly, he marveled at how everything had changed over the years, but there were some things that remained the same.

Instead, he captured one of her plaits between his fingers. “These people we're dressed up as,” he started, gently trailing the ridges of her braid. Lilac watched him, captivated by his every word. “Do they end up together?”

She allowed a laugh. “We've watched nothing but that movie for a week straight.”

Ethan shrugged, allowing a sheepish grin. “I tune it out thirty minutes in every time.”

More laughter and Ethan decided then that he could hear the sound forever and not get enough.

“Don't let Dolores hear you say that,” she warned with one final kiss. She moved to break apart from their embrace but he stopped her.

His wife looked at him expectantly and Ethan frowned, suddenly doubtful.

“Do you think she'll like it?”

Lilac's curious expression melted into a fond smile. “She's going to love it,” she assured him, leaning in to press a sweet kiss on the tip of his nose.

Not surprisingly, Lilac had been right because moments later, a delighted shriek of laughter announced the arrival of their toddler daughter. Her godmother trailed close behind, crouching over in an attempt to fix the blue tulle that trailed along the floor as the child ran towards her father. It was futile and Sienna sighed in defeat, shooting Lilac an amused look.

“It's pointless,” Sienna laughed. “There's no stopping little Lolly when she sees her father.”

Proving that point, his daughter flung herself into Ethan's arms and cried, “Dada!”

“Hello, princess,” Ethan laughed as she pressed her version of a kiss on his cheek.

“I'm Elsa,” Dolores corrected sagely.

“Yes, babe,” Lilac added with mock seriousness. “You are in the presence of Queen Elsa of Arendelle. Have some respect.”

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” Ethan said to his daughter with such formality that the child laughed. Sienna watched the exchange with a watery smile, failing to repress a squeal.

A loud roar coming from the threshold informed them that their son had joined them. Sienna laughed as Jonah ran around the room, the antlers of his costume bobbing wildly as he moved. At last, he stopped right before Lilac, who picked him up in her arms.

“I didn't know reindeers roared,” she laughed, swaying her son in her arms.

Jonah roared again to demonstrate that reindeers could indeed roar formidably, at least when impersonated by a five year old. “I'm a Halloween reindeer,” he explained. “He roars to be spooky, but just for today.”

The adults laughed. “You're a good big brother, Jonah,” Lilac informed him with a kiss, closely followed by a tickle.

“Lolly wanted to be Elsa so bad so I wanted to help,” their son said through a giggle, as though it was the most obvious explanation in the world.

It was for Ethan.

As Sienna ushered them together for a picture, Ethan looked at his family, everyone smiling radiantly and far more beautifully than the moon itself. Little Dolores clung to him, laughing and looking happier than he had ever seen her.

His wife caught his eye and shot him a knowing but proud smile. Ethan knew she was remembering the cynical, jaded version of himself who had confidently proclaimed he would never do this.

Ethan had never been happier to be proven wrong.

______________

A/N: I HC they name their daughter after Dolores and nickname her Lola/ Lolly

Once upon a time I used to write for another pairing who canonically dies on Halloween. You have no idea how happy I am to write for a pairing who’s alive and well lol.

Thank you so much for reading! I love these time hop fics so much. I wrote another one for Ethan x MC a long time ago that I will publish on my birthday in November :)

Finally, Chapter 10 of the Pictagram is coming soon. It might be two parts... Yikes. Thanks for waiting so patiently for it! Life has been crazy over here

_______________

tags: @openheart12​​​ , @takeharryandgo​​​ , @trappedinfanfiction​​​, @aestheticartsx​​​, @aworldoffandoms​​​, @paulfwesley​​​, @myusualnerdyself​​​,  @rookie-ramsey​​​, @ohchoices​​​, @colossalpainintheass​​​, @enmchoices​​​, @i-bloody-love-drake-walker​​​, @choicesfanaf​​​, @openheartthot​​​, @octobereighth​​​, @nazarihoe​​​, @utterlyinevitable​​​, @kites-in-our-skies​​​, @maurine07​​​, @schnitzelbutterfingers​​​, @doilooklikeiknow​​​, @snesdudes​​​, @kingliam2019​​​, @perriewinklenerdie​​​, @cinnamonspongecake​​​, @choicesstan1​​​, @queencarb​​​, @ethxnrxmsey​​​, @missmiimiie​​​, @jens-diamondchoices​​​, @adamsdumortain​​​, @apphia12​​​, @kalogh​​​, @lucy-268​​​, @binny1985​​​, @queenbirbs​​​, @honeyandsunfl0wers​​​, @newcolonies​​​, @lilyvalentine​​​, @rigatonireid​​​, @interobanginyourmom​​​, @parkerattano​​​, @custaroonie​​​​, @nikki-2406​​​​, @lilypills​​​​, @chasingrobbie​​​​, @nooruleman​​​​,  @lonely-mxxnlight​​​​, @ruinedbypixels​​​​, @shadynaturehilariouscookie​​​​, @tsrookie​​​​, @mvalentine​​​​, @professorkingslay​​​​, @drakewalkerfantasy​​​​, @casey-v​​​​, @helloblueeyedcat​​​​, @mysticaurathings​​​​, @blossomanarchy​​​​, @thegreentwin​​​​, @togetherwearerapture​​​​, @rookieoh​​​​, @ramseysno1rookie​​​​, @rookiemarsswiftie​​​​, @natashajaniphil​​​​, @mysticalgalaxysstuff​​​​, @hatescapsicum​​​​, @choices-lurker​​​​, @kiara-36​​​​, @junehiratas​​​​, @danijimenezv​​​​, @macy-ray85​​​​, @adrex04​​​​, @canigetanawwjunk​​​​, @sanchita012​​​​, @overwhelminglyaquarius​​​​ , @scorpiochick8​​​​, @skylarklyon​​​​, @starrystarrytrouble​​​​, @mercury84choices​​​​, @drariellevalentine​​​​, @ethanrcmsey​​​​, @lion-ess24, @aarisa-frost​​​​, @kaavyaethanramsey​​​​ , @udishaman​​​​, @a-crepusculo​​, @quacksonlover​​

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan x mc #playchoices #my writing #ethan ramsey fanfiction #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfiction

[mae-gi-writes]

From Now On | Kevin (The Boyz)

You break down with Kevin when a loved one passes away.

Genre: angst, fluff, sad, mention of death, Kevin moon is an angel 

A/N: for a very special soul. <3 I love you. Stay strong. 

----

Numb. Empty. Void.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” 

“My sympathies.” 

“She was an amazing woman.” 

A hand on your shoulder. You don’t bother looking up, “I can’t imagine how hard it must be.” 

No, you think to yourself. You can’t. Because right now, I am walking through hell. 

There is an abundance of hushed murmurs that fill the room where your mother lays in her casket, looking so ethereally beautiful and serene with her eyes closed and a tinted pink flush scattered over her cheeks. But that’s all a lie, for you know exactly without looking too closely that her chest isn’t rising and falling as its supposed to be. 

“Y/N,” another hand on your shoulder, though this time you recognize the sadness etched in your older brother’s tone. Turning to see Hyunjae’s composed features, what gives him away is the puffiness of his eyes, the scarlet tint to his nose. 

Almost instinctively, your hand reaches out to grasp his arm. A reminder that you are here, with him. Next to him. 

“I can’t find the sandwiches,” he croaks out in the shell of your ear, quiet enough so that no one can hear, “could you help me find them? I think the guests--” 

At this point you can already feel his voice choke up and trip over itself. You squeeze his arm in a gentle manner, “I got it,” you send him what hopes is a sweet smile, though it can hardly pull up your cheeks, before slipping away intot the kitchen. 

It’s impossible to navigate through the swarm of bodies currently littering the corridors. You maneuver yourself to the best of your ability but soon get yourself trapped between a few older women who claim to be your mother’s old classmates, which does not help the tide of pain wrenching through your chest and practically snapping your heartstrings in two every single time the reminder echoes through your mind. 

“She was such a dear! So talented! You look just like her you know,” one of the ladies say with overzealous flair and with tears dotting her eyes. It makes you feel sick, though you manage to plaster a shaky smile.

“It’s sad that I didn’t even get to say goodbye to her,” another sniffled into her tissue. 

“It must be ten times worse for you, Y/N,” they throw you a bunch of watery-eyed gazes and it takes all of your self-control not to scream in their faces to leave you the fuck alone.

You take a step away, “Sorry, I’m just really busy. I’ll talk to you guys later--”

“But wait Y/N, we want to know more,” one of them cry out. 

The other tugs onto your arm, “we can’t believe it happened. And she was so young too.” 

Your brain is screaming at you to run away. To hide. Anything to stop the slow pain spreading through your limbs and causing you to freeze up, your heart clenching and your lungs squeezing so hard through your chest. It’s hard to breathe. Like drowning underwater. Ears blocked and through raw.

You don’t realize that you’ve stumbled back a few steps their arms pull you forward. The women keep on talking over you in hurried sopranos, their voices bouncing around in your skull and causing your head to pound. 

It’s too hard. It’s too much. The memory of your mother’s face surges up through you. The way she died, unfairly, too young. Tears gather before you know it and you can’t breathe and can’t breathe can’t breathe --

“Sorry, I’ll have to steal Y/N for a bit.” 

A hand clamps down on your shoulder, pulls you away. The voices fall away and you take this moment to focus yourself on the warmth of the hand gently holding on to you as its owner steers you away until you are clearly out in the terrace.

It is only then that you manage to let out a shaky exhale. Your headache clears, just a little bit.

And it is only when he speaks that your eyes slide up to the said voice in question.

Kevin gazes down at you wordlessly, maroon orbs soft in the dim afternoon light. 

“Hey, you okay?”

Gratefulness rushes to your heart, just as your eyes fill with unexpected tears. 

You burst into sobs. 

It takes only a second for Kevin’s arms to wrap around your shoulders before he tugs you over to his chest, and as you bawl your eyes out at the unfairness of the world that you can’t even say goodbye to that one person who’s been present from the moment you were born, your hands find purchase onto his shirt if only in a pathetic attempt to stop yourself from getting overwhelmed by the amount of emotion that rips through your throat in the form of hoarse whimpers. 

“Shh,” Kevin mumbles a bunch of sweet nothings in your ear and though you loathe the fake sympathy that comes with a crowd that barely knows you and much less what you are currently going through, you can’t find the energy to push your boyfriend away.

After all, you do trust him more than yourself. For once, you allow your walls to come down. 

You cry and cry and cry. 

You cry, until there seems to be nothing left of your tears, until your tear ducts have dried out and until your entire body seems to be shaking with barely restrained tiredness. 

And through it all, Kevin holds on to you. He holds on like he’s never planning to let go, and your hands clench a little tighter, you hold him a little closer. 

A while later, after almost all guests have vacated your house and after you’ve managed to nod at Hyunjae when asked whether you’re doing okay, you manage to retreat to your room with Kevin in tow, his hand holding onto yours and providing you with a warmth that brings you comfort. 

He sits beside you on your bed as you both watch the sun set in the distance, pinkish hues dominating the sky and painting it in various shades of golden orange and red.

It’s beautiful and yet saddening at the same time to see the first day go by without your mother’s gentle voice floating from the kitchen. The emptiness lingers in the air, a void that mimics the hole in your heart. 

I miss you.

More tears slowly well up at the corner of your eyes and you quickly wipe them away adamantly. You’ve cried enough these past few hours. Enough is enough.

I’m sorry I never told you how much I loved you.

Kevin’s thumb rubs comforting circles over the back of your knuckles. In the silence, you allow yourself to bask in his presence. 

That is really all you need for now. Nothing more. Nothing else.

Just time. Time to heal. Time to suffer. Time to just exist until the pain ebbs away.

I’m sorry I took you for granted.

“Y/N,” Kevin’s soft murmur reaches your ears, “you want to talk about it?” 

You shake your head before biting your lip so hard you taste blood.

“Okay,” he mumbles. That’s when he beckons you into his arms, an embrace that you gladly accept as you crawl into his lap and curl up -- head pressed against the crook of his neck and hands held close to your chest -- as his head comes to a rest atop yours, but not before pressing a gentle peck to your forehead. 

“You know,” his words are muffled against your temple, lips moving against your skin with lingering warmth, “you don’t have to hold it in with me right? I don’t--I care about you. I don’t want you thinking that I can’t handle it. Because that’s what I’m here for.” 

God. This man. A sob almost crawls out of your throat. So you nod, grip his shirt a little tighter. His scent washes over you, a mixture of pine and a dash of coffee mixed in with a boyish smell that comes from his deodorant. 

 It makes you feel at home. At ease. At least with Kevin, there’s no playing pretend.

You’re unsure whether you fell asleep in his embrace, but before you know it your eyes are drowsily fluttering open to meet Kevin’s back. You go to call out his name, only for the smell of fried food hitting your nostrils and turning your head to catch sight of the plate of untouched food by your nightstand, your heart can’t help but melt a little at his thoughtfulness. 

Noticing your movement, the said young man turns before smiling down at you softly, “hey,” he murmurs gently, practically throwing his phone on the other side of the bed and crawling over to where you lie, “you hungry? I brought food. Or rather, Hyunjae did.” 

You know you should eat. God knows when was the last time you’d eaten. But the thought causes your stomach to churn slightly and you shake your head.

“But Hyunjae brought your favourite: meat buns,” Kevin pouts ever so slightly, and pairing that with the slight rumble of your stomach makes you cave in. 

So you nod and he grins back at you, quickly scrambling to your bedside so that he can feed you before you can even protest. You find you don’t have the energy to, only watching him peel off the wrapper and break it into small, bite-sized pieces. 

“Ah,” he holds one out to you and you accept it begrudgingly. You’ve never been too fond of being taken care of. But at this precise moment, you can’t find it in yourself to argue, especially since Kevin has been nothing but your pillar of support throughout the last few hours. How you would’ve managed without him, you don’t even know yourself. 

As he feeds you the rest of the bun, he talks aimlessly about the food vlog on youtube that he’s just binge-watched and how he wishes to visit New York someday to be able to try out all these fancy street foods that keep haunting his dreams. Somewhere along the line, you realize that it’s a little easier to swallow, a little easier to smile up at your doting boyfriend talking animatedly while swinging his arms around. He always does that whenever he gets overexcited. 

Right now, he’s moved on to talking about safe driving on roads implemented by AI technology, “seriously though, it’s kind of scary how technology can do everything these days. At this point we’re not going to  have a zombie apocalypse but rather a robot apocalypse. Can you imagine?” 

“Then they’d be easier to kill, wouldn’t they?” you mumble out, and while it is soft and barely coherent, Kevin’s ears perk up at your participation. That’s probably the first word that falls from your mouth ever since you woke up.

“I guess so, unless they’re already programmed with a hundred of ninja combat moves or something,” he shrugs, moves a little closer to wipe off a few bits of flour stuck to the corner of your lips, “maybe they can even google search it and analyze movements within seconds,” he shudders at the thought, “ooh, scary.” 

“Kevin?” 

“Hm?” his eyes peer into yours, coffee-coloured orbs swirling with naked affection, hand pushing away a stray strand from your face. 

When you speak next, you feel a sob catching in the back of your throat, “thank you,” you swallow hard, “for everything.” 

It happens all too fast. The way Kevin’s arms reach out to swallow you up once more in a bone-crushing hug that leaves you breathless, his lips permanently pressed to your forehead before he nuzzles his nose into your cheek. 

“You don’t have to say thank you,” he murmurs in-between the smallest of pecks he litters across your cheekbone, “that’s what I’m here for.” 

The familiar sting of tears cause your eyes to grow glossy, but this time it’s almost as if your own heart feels a little lighter, a little less burdened. Sleeping had done you some good, and eating had appeased the swelling ache in your stomach.

But Kevin. Kevin had definitely patched up a band-aid over your heart. 

"I know it’s going to be hard, these few months to come,” Kevin continues in a gentle murmur, “but from now on, if you feel like you cant handle it, you have me.” 

Your murmur out a soft agreement, but that doesn’t seem to cut it, for Kevin’s fingers clasp your jaw to tilt it upwards. Your eyes slide to his, intense and persistent. 

“Y/N, I got you. Okay?” 

“Yeah,” you mumble. 

He keeps on watching you for a few more silent seconds. Satisfied then, he pulls you back against him, tucking your face into the crook of his neck once more and placing a chaste kiss right upon your left eyelid, then right eyelid. Then down to peck your lips as your breath stutters out shakily. 

“I’ll be there.” 

It’s a promise. A promise for better days. And hugging him a little tighter, you can’t help but believe in the hope laced through Kevin’s words.

-----

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