#i woke up drunk and blind unable to find my glasses

[apricotforher]

i for sure need this school to come stop me from being stupid like this

#context.. im starting a new school TOMORROW #and i was like #... throwing my old life away #by getting too drunk #alone #so its sad and depressing and not fun or cool at all #like its giving alcoholic #ANYWAY #im comitted to the school thing #id rather shoot myself in the face than fail at that #IVE BEEN WORKING ALMOST 10 FUCKING YEARS TO BE ABLE TO GO BACK TO SCHOOL #IM NOT GONNA FUCK IT UP #idk what i just pressed to send that not finished tag... #WHAYEVER #i woke up drunk and blind unable to find my glasses #my darling younger pup had apparently thought theyd look better on the sofa rather than my nightstand #so now im like 1.5hrs to being awake.. and im downing “a glass” of wine for it #honestly w the stress of over 500€ looming over me for the most time that ive been conscious today? i deserve it #alcoholic speaking isnt it #good that i dont have any more in the house lol

[fics-for-my-heart]

Broken B.H. (p.2)

Summary: After a bad breakup you go to the only person you know can help

Word Count: 2,338

Warning: Russ comes back and is a POS

Requested: This is Part Two of this one!

A/N: Very sorry this took so long! Hope you guys like it! Also, please see this post, it’s something I’ve been thinking about and would like some input on! Also, the book mentioned in this is real and i absolutely love Pippa Grant and all her books so give them a read (they are on kindle unlimited or on her website!)

Masterlist

It had been about three months since you’d shown up on Ben’s door a mess. The first few days you had stayed with Ben, unable to even get out of bed. But you eventually made it home to the welcome arms of Cordelia, who had made it her mission, along with Ben, to make you feel better. 

“Morning sunshine.” Cordelia said, bringing you breakfast, which she’d deemed your new morning routine . “Whatcha reading?” 

“One of Pippa Grant's books. This one is about baseballs ‘oldest virgin’ who gave up his superstition because he was traded to a bad team, and the team's super fan who is trying to cock block him. It’s conveniently titled ‘Jockblocked’.”

Cordelia joined you in bed, setting her own little fry up as well. “Uh, send me that because that sounds so funny. Are you sure you’ll be okay while I’m gone?” She asked for the hundredth time. 

“Yes, Cordi. Ben is coming over to stay while you’re gone. It’s your family vacation you can’t just not go.” 

“I can and will if you need me to stay.” She was deadly serious too. 

“I’ll be fine. Here I sent you that book.” You said, swiftly changing the subject. 

Cordelia rolled her eyes but didn’t fight it. “Sweet I’ll have something to read on the plane ride. What time is Ben coming over?” 

“He has to film most of the day but he said he would be over as soon as he finished.”

“Good. You haven’t been creeping on Russ have you?” 

How did she always know? “Only a little. Wanna know something fucked?” She hummed around her bite of food. “He proposed to her.” 

If she hadn’t swallowed the food in her mouth, it would have been all over your face. “Are you fucking serious?” 

“Yes. After that I blocked them both so I’m not tempted to look again.” Which was partly a lie, you had already unblocked him once to check his page. “It’s whatever. I’m washing my hands of him. Thinking back on it, our relationship really hasn’t been as good as I thought it had been.”

In the days following the break up, your mind started replaying everything. You were mad at yourself for realizing just how blind you’d been to the signs that things weren’t right. All the times he had come up with an excuse to not see you, the plans he’d change, sometimes last minute. The complete lack of effort that hasn’t been apparent was suddenly screaming at you. 

“It weirdly helps?” You finally continue, pushing a blueberry around your plate. “At first I was upset because I’d thought things were perfect. But now that I see it I feel..relieved? I guess. I don’t know.”

Cordi watched you as you spoke. She had been amazing about all this. “Maybe you subconsciously could feel something shifting and you tried to make up for it by trying to be more involved.” 

“I think so. Because I know I should feel upset still, but I don’t. At least not on the level I had been. It’s like this weight I didn’t know I carried has lifted and I’m ready to move on. Not necessarily that I’ve moved on, just I don’t think I actually loved him like I thought I did.” 

“I’m going to tell you something very important.” Cordelia said, moving the trays and turning to fully face you. “No one can tell you how to feel, or that your feelings are wrong. Everyone handles things in their own way and moves on at their own speed. Don’t feel like you can’t move on already just because someone else thinks you should be sad for months over this. It’s your life. Live it how you want.” 

She was right. And having some tell you that had you relax a bit. It was that trust that felt more hurt anyway. You’d trusted this man to love you and treat you the way you should and he broke that for a long time without you even knowing. Then publicly humiliated. You shook the thoughts off, shifting your attention to Cordelia, who was about to leave you for three weeks. 

—

A few hours later, the house was quiet as you curled up on the couch with some popcorn. Ben would be over soon, which sent some excitement though you. Though you’d told Cordelia that you weren’t quite ready to move on to someone new, you hadn’t been entirely truthful. 

Ben and you had spent just about everyday together since the break up. Which reignited some deep feelings you thought had gone away a long time ago. Which you were trying to ignore. Ben was your best friend and you didn’t want to risk ruining what you already had. But they were hard to ignore. The two of you would cuddle and watch movies. He would randomly show up sometimes with your favorite coffee or food. He loved taking you to set. Leading you around by the hand. The smile on his face as he talked was enough to make you feel genuinely happy. Sometimes you wanted to kiss him so bad when he smiled, or made you laugh. 

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. 

“Ben.” You laughed, not bothering to check who it was. “Why give you a key if you’re just going to..” your sentence died off as you saw who was really at the door. “Russ.” 

“Baby. Baby. Oh I miss you.” His words were slurred and his eyes were bloodshot. 

You pulled the door closed a bit, locking the bottom lock as you did. “Go home, Russ. You’re drunk.” 

“Babyyyyyyy.” He groaned, taking a step toward you. 

“No. Shut up. You cheated on me and we broke up. Remember. Go home to your fiancé.” You made to close the door but his hand slapped against it. 

“Don’t be like that, we had some fun times.” He tried to wiggle his eyebrows but failed. “Let’s relive some of them.” He closed his eyes and puckered his lips.

This time you were able to close the door, flipping the deadbolt as quick as you could.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” He started hitting the door, hard. “You bitch. Fucking let me in.” He moved to the window, knocking hard on it. His bloodshot eyes followed you as you ran to the living room for your phone. 

“Siri, call Benny on speaker.” You called frantically, unable to find your phone on the couch. Russ continued banging on the window

“Y/N?” Ben's voice was muffled, you threw a pillow off the couch just as Russ yelled again. 

“Come on! Let me in you bitch!” 

“Y/N?” This time Ben was louder. “Are you okay? What’s going on?” 

“Russ! He’s here and he’s drunk. He won’t leave!” You grabbed your phone and ran for the bathroom.

“I’m almost there.” The rev of his engine sounded through the speaker. “Where are you?” 

“I locked myself in the bathroom.” There was a crash, and the sound of breaking glass. “Oh my gosh Ben I think he just broke the window.” 

“I’m almost there. Just stay quiet. But don’t hang up.” 

You covered your mouth, your face wet with tears as Russ called out. “Y/N. Why are you hiding? I just want to play a little. I know you always enjoyed that thing I could do with my tongue.” There was more crashing as his steps echoed in the hall.

“Don’t listen to him. I’m pulling in now. Call the cops.” A door slammed and suddenly Ben was yelling. “Oi, you weasel. Get the fuck out of here.”

Your hands shook as you hit the emergency button on your phone

“9-1-1 what’s your emergency?” The female operator's voice was calm compared to the ones in the hall. 

“My ex. He broke into my house. I think it’s drunk.” Your voice was shaking as you tried to be quiet. 

Keys clicking. “Okay, I’ve got your location and responders are on the way. Is there anyone else there?” 

“Yes. My friend. He just got here. Ben. His name is Ben.”

“Okay hon, can you tell me where you are in the house?”

“The bathroom.” There was a gentle knock on the door. “Oh god.” 

“Y/N. It’s me.” Ben called through the wood. “He ran out the door. It’s safe.” 

You stood on shaking legs and opened the door. Ben had a huge red mark on his cheek. 

“What’s happening, ma’am?” 

“He left.” Ben responded, taking your phone as you wrapped your arms around him. “Yes ma’am. I think he might be on something. Yes. He did but I didn’t. Okay. We will thank you.” He slipped your phone in his pocket and held you close. “Shh it’s okay. She said someone is going to come take a statement and pictures of the house. You’re coming to my house.” 

The events that followed were a blur. The living room was trashed. The window by the door was broken. Ben had a bruise showing up on his cheek. You mindlessly packed as Ben spoke with someone in the living room. Then you were off to his house. 

You must have fallen asleep in the car because when you woke up you were curled up on Ben's bed. You could hear him talking just outside the door. 

“No it’s okay. You don’t have to come home. Yeah she’s going to stay with me till you get back. I’ve already got someone scheduled tomorrow to fix the window and clean up the mess. You know I will. We will call if anything more happens. Enjoy your vacation.” The door opened, then the bed dipped. He dragged his fingers through your hair. “Hi.” 

“How long was I asleep?” 

“Not long. Cordelia tried to come home.” He gave a soft laugh as you pushed closer to him. 

“I heard. Thanks for telling her to stay. She’s done so much. She deserves a vacation. Honestly you do too.” 

“Anywhere I go, you’re going with me.” He stated matter-of-factly. 

You sat up to refuse but grimaced at his cheek. “I’m sorry.” You lifted your hand, soft fingers touching the bruise as his head turned into your touch. “Why did he punch you?”

The breath of his laugh hit your arm. “Uh. I told him I was your boyfriend.” 

Your heart leapt to your throat and your hand stilled on his face. “Oh?”

“He said I was lying so I just kept saying it, leading him away from the bathroom door. Finally he pulled back and punched me, then ran off like the little bitch he is.”

Tears blurred your vision as you looked away from him. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this.” 

“You didn’t drag me into anything.” His fingers went under your chin, turning you to meet his eyes. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You mean too much to me, and I’ll fight and take as many hits to the face as it takes to keep you safe.” He slipped his hand around to cup your face. “Plus I think I look pretty badass.” He laughed. 

And you lunged at him, meeting his lips with such force he fell back against the headboard. “Mmmph.” After a moment, his hand pushed against the back of your head, kissing you harder. His lips were soft against yours, gentle as he tried to pull you closer. 

With a gasp you tried to jump back, not making it far with him still holding you. "That was…" You trailed off, chuckling at the dazed look in Ben's eyes. "Sorry." You whispered.

This time he met your lips, kissing you quickly before resting his forehead against yours. "You have got to stop apologizing." His thumb dragged across your bottom lip, green eyes staring right into yours. "It was perfect." 

Your heart was beating so fast, and there were butterflies in your stomach as a smile crossed your lips. "I've been wanting to do that for weeks." 

His eyes crinkled as he smiled. "Really? Oh thank god. Me too." He kissed you again. And again. And again. 

After who knows how long, because honestly, kissing Ben seemed to make time slow down, the two of you were just laying there. His hand drawing lazy shapes across your back. "I guess we should make it so you're not a liar." You laughed. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Well." You started, picking at an invisible piece of lint from his shirt. "You told Russ you were my boyfriend. If you want, we can make that the truth." 

His hand stilled for a moment, before continuing. "Are you sure? We don't have to rush anything. I'm willing to wait till you are ready." 

"I am." You sat up, crossing your leg and watched him watch you. "I've actually been thinking a lot about it and I'm ready. It's something that has been on my mind lately. As Cordelia  said, I was trying too hard to make up for the fact that I didn't want to see that Russ and I were falling apart. The past few months I've realized that spending time with you has kind of brought up some feelings I might have had a while back." He smirked, giving you a raised eyebrow look. "Sh. I'm serious. Maybe take it slow, but I think I'd like to make this work."  

Ben was quiet as he looked at you. His eyes scanned your face as your heart started beating faster. Then he leaned in closer, cupping your face with both his hands. "Then let's make this work. Your speed. Anything you need. You tell me if something feels weird and we can work it out. A relationship is a two person thing, and we will work to make it work." 

"That sounds good. I really like that plan." You said, smiling at him, then you whispered. "Can we kiss again." 

"Anything you want." He smiled, pulling you forward and locking his lips to yours. 

#ben hardy #ben #ben hardy x you #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy fic #ben nonny

[captainsassmanes]

It’s the Little Things

“Here, drink this.”

Michael stared at the cup, squinting in his sad attempt to push through his hangover and see the world through clearer eyes.

“What’s that?”

Kyle raised his eyebrows, annoyance pinching the features of his face. “Poison.”

Michael offered a fake smile and took the cup, grimacing initially at its heat, then enjoying the warmth as it worked its way down his throat and into his gut. 

He sat up, stretching his back and blinking the tired from his eyes when he paused, cup halfway to his lips again.

“How’d you know how I like my coffee?”

Kyle tapped the side of his head, conspiratorial smirk in place. When Michael’s face showed exactly how funny he thought Kyle was, he sighed and turned back to his work.

“How do you think, genius?”

******

Michael had gotten absolutely obliterated.

His head was pounding, the sound of his own breathing causing him to groan in agony. Rolling onto his back, he stared at the ceiling of his air stream, trying to piece together what may have happened the night before.

He was definitely at the Pony. He’d definitely bumped into Long again. Then something else...it was all fuzzy. It must have been bad if Maria hauled his ass out instead of letting him stay the night.

After a bottle of acetone and a few more fruitless tries at the game of memory, Michael practically fell out of his too small bed. He opened the door and squinted at the sun piercing his eyes, sending a dagger of pain through his skull.

Surprisingly, his truck sat outside and he felt a pit of dread thinking he may have driven home while he was black out drunk. But as he moved closer, he saw his jacket folded neatly on the hood, a yellow piece of paper sticking out of the pocket.

Feel better.

*****

The next time Michael woke up from a binge, it was on a hard bench in an all too familiar cell.

“Ah, he lives.”

Deputy Valenti swaggered to the cell door with a sad smile on her face. “You alright, cowboy?”

Michael threw his arm over his eyes, the sun coming in through the small window at the perfect angle to blind him.

“Been better. Been worse.”

He heard her clear her throat, presumably to get his attention. Peeking out from the safety of his own body, he met her gaze, a mix of frustration and pity.

“Guerin, I dunno what’s going on but you’ve gotta get it together.” He scoffed but she wouldn’t let up. “I’m serious. Michael, the men you fought with last night? About five of them, half of them twice your size. You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

His heart pounded as he felt her affection for him. The sudden longing for his own mother, for someone to love him unconditionally and hold him close while he collapsed, was overwhelming. He didn’t trust his own voice so he just nodded, resting his head back on the wood.

After a few minutes of silence, Michael asked, “so how long am I in the tank this time, Valenti?”

She’d moved quietly to her desk at this point, diving into the endless pile of paperwork. “Whenever you’re sober enough to safely get yourself home.”

Groaning, Michael pushed himself up to sit, resting his back against the cool wall. “I don’t owe you anything?”

She shook her head, eyes dancing across her work. “Already taken care of.”

“Who?”

She looked up, pulling her glasses off her face. “An anonymous donor. Are you feeling better yet? I’m tired of you, Guerin.”

******

Somehow he completely zoned out.

He’d been working through some of Liz’s notes, trying to find what they were missing. But he’d been off all day, getting lost in thoughts of his family, daydreams of his home planet, missing Maria, throwing some shit around when he thought of Max. And then there was always...

A knock at the door startled him from his reverie. He lifted the blinds to see who would have the balls to visit without warning but found a kid standing in the sand with a big bag and a hesitant look on his face.

Michael pushed the door open with a gruff, “what?”

The poor kid looked like he might tip over. He cleared his throat and squeaked out, “delivery for Michael Guerin.”

Michael looked around the yard, trying to see if someone was messing with him. “I didn’t order anything, kid.”

“Uh, well, it’s all paid for, sir. You just have to sign here.”

Michael’s eyebrows moved closer together in confusion. “What do you mean already paid for?”

“I mean someone already paid for the meal and told me where to deliver it?”

“Who?”

The kid shrugged and again held out the delivery receipt for Michael to sign but he shook his head and mumbled, “nah, I don’t want it. You have it. Since it’s already paid for.”

“Um, are you sure?” The kid lifted the corner of the bag to look in. “It’s a 22 ounce steak with pasta and potatoes. From that fancy place.”

Michael’s hand reached out to steady himself against the door frame. That was the place he’d saved up for weeks to take Maria on a proper date. It’d been an amazing night. One he took twisted pride in making sure everyone knew about.

“Yeah, I’ll take it then.” He signed the paper and took his food. “Thanks.”

The kid nodded and practically ran back to his car.

Michael placed the food on the small kitchen counter and sat down, staring at the plastic containers while the smell of garlic and basil filled the tight space.

With shaking hands, he found his phone and sent a quick text.

Thanks for the food, babe

He waited impatiently for the response to come, leg bouncing with anticipation.

What food?

He closed his eyes and threw his head back.

******

“You need to leave me alone.”

Alex was sitting in the sun, tan biceps on display, glasses resting on his nose to block out the rays, reading a book. Michael had barely gotten out of his truck before he’d begun his tirade.

“You’re fucking things up for me, Manes. I don’t want anything from you.”

Alex pushed his glasses into his hair and squinted, using his free hand to shield his eyes.

“Okay.”

Michael stood, hands on his hips, chest heaving, itching for a fight. “Okay?”

Alex nodded. He put his sunglasses back in place and opened his book back up. “Okay.”

They were silent as Michael stared in disbelief and Alex did his best to pretend not to notice Michael’s continued presence.

Eventually it became too much.

“What’s your deal, Manes? Trying to get into my head? Mess up my relationship? What?”

Alex sighed before replacing his bookmark and reaching for his crutch. He stood a bit awkwardly and used the spine of the novel to push his glasses back up so Michael was forced to clearly see his eyes.

“What exactly have I done, Guerin? What exactly is it that’s upsetting you so much?”

Michael opened his mouth but Alex beat him to the punch. “I must have gotten confused again. My fault. Do I owe you more apologies? I’m sorry.”

He turned and began walking toward the house before pausing at the doorway. Alex turned and Michael stood, chin lifted in defense although he couldn’t think of one thing to say.

“I assumed a friend would make sure you didn’t drive drunk. Would get you out of jail. Would make sure you ate. What the hell kind of friends do you have that you think that’s me trying to mess up your life?”

Michael’s face dropped, the realization that maybe Alex hadn’t done anything wrong; that Michael had twisted it all until it was a totally unrecognizable version of the truth.

“You already told me to stay away from you, Michael, so I did. You made it clea you don’t love me, don’t want me, and I have done everything I can to try accepting that. You said you wanted to be with Maria, so I smiled and told you I understood. You needed help getting Max back, getting answers to where you come from, you’re people, I’m doing my best. What else do you want? No contact at all? Me completely out of your life? If I moved to New York tomorrow would that be far enough away from you or would I still be pissing you off somehow? Is my continued existence that much of a fucking burden for you, Michael?”

Alex’s voice had gotten loud, his words bouncing off of the courtyard walls. Michael had felt himself shrink, pull back into himself with shame and embarrassment. He survived each day by thinking the universe was out to get him; he was dealt a shit card and he had to handle it by being shit back.

Until Alex’s words smacked him in the face and he saw the pain he’d been causing first hand, it had been an easy lie to believe.

Silently, Alex walked into his house, door slamming loudly behind him. Michael’s heart was racing as his stomach turned. He couldn’t move a muscle, still couldn’t think of one word to say. He was feeling too much, unable to filter through it all to force himself to be coherent.

The sound of a door closing again jolted him back to the moment. Alex came toward him, face full of thunder while his gorgeous brown eyes looked through him, hollow nothingness.

“Here.” Alex took a backpack from his shoulder and handed it over. It was surprisingly heavy. Michael opened the flap and gasped at the shimmering purple of his ship.

He felt his eyes begin to water, not knowing why. He looked to Alex for answers, to help him understand what was happening, to him. To them.

Alex tilted his head toward the bag. “Jim Valenti had it. I found it and wanted to give it to you. But then you talked about getting it all to work and leaving the planet and I thought I’d literally fucking die if you did that so I kept it.” He let out a humorless laugh and stared at the sky. Michael realized he was trying not to cry.

“Didn’t make much difference in the end, though, did it?”

Michael let his tears fall, too overwhelmed to maintain any control.

“I’m sorry I kept it. It was yours. I had no right.”

Michael shook his head. “Why now?”

Alex scanned Michael’s face, hurt bleeding into those chocolate eyes. When he spoke, it was empty and full of defeat.

“So you can finally be done with me, Michael.”

Michael let out a small sob and clutched the bag so tight it was cutting off circulation to his fingers. Alex adjusted his crutch, getting ready to move once again.

They looked at one another, falling into memories of another time, thoughts of all the what-ifs. Michael kept searching for something to say, moving through his own brain like a Rolodex, digging for the right thing, to make sure Alex knew that this was never what he wanted. That while his mouth said stay away, his heart screamed don’t leave me.

He watched as Alex’s eyes filled with tears, an expression Michael had managed to put on his face far too many times.

Alex whispered a broken, “bye, Michael,” before going back inside, shutting the door behind him and locking it with a click.

Michael had no idea how long he stood outside of Alex’s house; long enough for the sun to get lower and his shadow to get longer. He forced his feet to move and shuffled to his truck, tossing the backpack on the passenger seat.

As he drove back home, he began devising a plan.

Step 1: Cut down on the fucking drinking.

Step 2: Hug Isobel and apologize.

Step 3: Talk to Maria and apologize.

Step 4: Find out how Alex likes his coffee.

#Roswell New Mexico #Malex #Malex fic #angst #barely edited #my fic

[julemmaes]

Could you do "does this help" for thomastair please? Your writtings amazing, if not thats totally cool!

You can go home now

Thomas Lightwood and Alastair Carstairs war au

“Does this help?”

This is actually the second part of something I wrote back in July, here is the first part, it is not necessary to read the first part and I’m sorry if this is sad as fuck, with a not so nice ending, but I hope you enojy it:)

Word count: 1,537

When Thomas woke up, he didn't immediately realize where he was. He heard the screams of his comrades, of the soldiers surrounding him. They were not just cries of pain, they were cries of despair. Screams of people who knew they had nothing left. That they had lost every shred of humanity they had when they were born.

They had captured him. It had to be that way.

He tried to open his eyes, unsuccessfully, and panic almost entirely assailed him when he heard someone put his hand on his arm. He opened his mouth to scream, but found he could not make a sound. His throat closed again, blocking his breath, but the person next to him put something on his face, more precisely on his mouth, and the excruciating pain that ran through his veins almost made him faint. He took a breath of air and the oxygen from what must have been a mask entered his lungs.

His face, he suddenly remembered, had been completely burned.

"Thomas?

The boy stopped thinking. His breathing was still irregular but facilitated by the use of the oxygen mask.

"Thomas, please tell me it's you."

If even Alastair couldn't recognize him, he must have been in more than critical condition.

He tried to move his head, to open his eyes again, but the pain was too much and a sob broke out of Thomas' throat. He felt that Alastair grabbed his right hand, the one that had not been hit by the acid bomb and squeezed it. Thomas closed his fingers around his fiancé's and sighed. He felt the other one's hand shake and he just wanted to look at him once. Just once before he passed out from the pain. He felt it in his bones. He wouldn't stay awake for much longer.

"You are alive." Alastair whispered, "You are alive."

Thomas squeezed his hand harder and sobbed.

"I know, my love. I know." Now the other one seemed to be crying too. Someone else approached where Thomas was lying and settled down next to Alastair.

"Here with me is Cordelia." He cleared his voice before continuing to speak, " She was the one who found you. She found all of you."

Thomas inspired abruptly. She had seen Matthew, Christopher... James.

"Yes Tom, I've seen them," replied the girl, having sensed the path of his thoughts. The hoarse and tired voice of those like him who were fighting in the front line. "I couldn't bring them back. I arrived when they started with the fourth bombardment. I saw you fall from the edge of the woods, I saw you crawling before you were hit," she said in a trembling voice.

Alastair resumed after a few seconds of silence, Cordelia probably unable to continue her talk, "She was with Charles and Anna when they found you, but the other two were too badly injured and it was impossible to bring them all back." Another pause, much heavier than the others. Thomas wanted to scream. "We lost Lucie too."

He didn't give himself permission to assimilate those words, to think about what it would mean to go back to Will and Tessa and have to tell them that none of their children would come home. With every strength left in his body, he brought his right hand to his head, touching his eye that he knew was healthy, intact and unharmed. Alastair's hand followed his, helping him support the weight of his arm. He touched his eyelid, trying to open his eye forcibly and when one of the two Carstairs siblings realized what he was trying to do, his hand was lowered.

"Wait. I'm going to find something to wipe your face, don't try to open your eye, okay?"

Thomas wanted to nod, but he couldn't. He heard Cordelia walk away and ask someone for a wet rag.

Alastair handed him a hand on his cheek and then darkness struck him.

When he woke up the second time, the pain had not diminished and the screams of his companions seemed more numerous. This time he realized that he was in a field hospital.

He had never been there. He had never seen one, but Lucie - their dear little Lucie - had been one of the doctors who worked there.

He tried to move his toes and when he could only move his left foot, panic took over again. When he managed to open his right eye he almost vomited in front of the ones in front of him. He closed it immediately, blinded by the light and all that red.

How could they be alive? How could they still breathe, all those people who had pieces of foreign objects stuck in their chest, in their limbs. How could they have survived such wounds?

Thomas tried not to think that they would probably be temporary wounds. That the real wounds would be mental. Scars so deep that they would never heal completely.

He reopened his eye and saw Alastair sleeping next to him. He let his arm fall out of bed and lightly hit his boyfriend's shoulder. He noticed with no little happiness that Alastair still had his ring on his left hand.

The boy woke up up and jumped up, looking left and right in search of the threat. Thomas sighed what little the wounds allowed him. This would be their life from now on if he survived. Hospital beds and traumatic awakenings.

When Alastair realized that he was relatively safe, he sat down again, taking a fleeting look at Thomas, before putting his hands over his face and resting his head on his mattress.

He looked up at Thomas and, in a dragging voice, asked, "How are you feeling?

If Thomas could have laughed he would have done so. How was he feeling? He had no mobility in his right leg and the left side of his body was so burned that the pain in some places was not even there. Every nerve end burned and fused with the skin.

"Stupid question, sorry."

Thomas opened his mouth and realized he could only do it partially. Shit.

Alastair grimaced and his eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry Tom."

Thomas looked at him and felt empty. All those feelings, those famous butterflies in his stomach... they had always been there, and yet now it was as if they were dead and rotting inside him.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alastair get up and lean out behind the bed, when he sat down again he had a glass in his hand.

Water.

God.

How long has it been since he had drunk.

He must have moved unintentionally because Alastair laughed, before putting his hand on his right shoulder and squeezing it slightly, "Calm down," he said to him in a peremptory tone, "Now I'm going to lift the top of the bed slowly, so that you can sit down, if you feel pain, squeeze my hand." he continued, proceeding with the framing of his fingers to Thomas'. He gave Alastair two quick squeezes to make him understand that he had understood.

The latter placed the glass back on the bedside table and began to lift the back of the bed.

As soon as he reached a certain position the skin on Thomas's left side began to pull so much that the boy was forced to lift his hips out of the bed, which caused a pain in his right thigh so strong that he saw everything black for ten seconds. When he returned among the living, Alastair looked at him apologetically with tears in his eyes. The bed had returned to a height where the discomfort was bearable.

Cordelia arrived with something in her hand and when she lifted the object Thomas almost laughed. Leave it to her to find a straw on the battlefield. "Does this help?" Alastair thanked her and then sat down again, placing the glass so that it was close to Thomas' mouth.

The first sip was a blessing.

It's been days since he drank such clean water. Maybe weeks.

He was certain that he had survived thanks to the IV he had now attached to his body, but before arriving here, at the hospital, he and his companions had gone on to drink from the puddles they found on the path.

The weeks went by slowly and Thomas did not speak. He became feverish after the first transfer and the day before his return to his motherland his condition became so critical that he could no longer leave. The wounds had become infected and by now the infection had reached his heart. Anna, Charles and Cordelia had said they would stay with Alastair, but he had begged them to go home, to stay with their families. They were all mourning, they needed to be with their parents.

Thomas Lightwood died a few days later, lulled by the arms of what was to become his husband only three weeks later, his last words to Thomas being “You can go home now.”

Finally at peace with himself, he reached his friends and his cousins, happy to be able to rest for eternity.

tsc taglist

@queenofthemoon22 @tyherondaletrash @clara-sm @can-god-strike-me-down @tessaherongraystairs @idontgetit-whydoihavetosaymyname @jamescordelias @grxceblqckthxrn @thecerridwen @stitch-kiss @alastairlightwxod @ahiretsinging @allofmywonders @tremendousheadachecollector @tlh-tea @taco-taco-belle @city-of-fae @ifeelfreewithoutmyshoes @thomascarstairsx @alastaircarstairsx @fair-y-child @matthew-herondale @thomaslightwoodx @abigneignenn @imherongraystairstrash @rednailpolishqueen @herondamnn @parababitch-herondale @silent-nerd @heronblackstairs @starryherondales @queenofnorta

#thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs #alastair x thomas #thomas x alastair #alastairxthomas #thomasxalastair #thomastair #the last hours #tlh fic #fic #angst #major death #war au #anna lightwood #charles fairchild #cordelia castairs #julemmaes writing #james herondale #matthew fairchild #christopher lightwood

[hecohansen31]

Hello darling! I’d love to request prompt 94 with Aldhelm (because I know you love him 😉) I hope you enjoy writing!!

(A/N): Hello there lovelies,

I rarely do author’s notes anymore, because nobody reads them, but in case you are wondering, I am not going to be extra active on here.

After exams I usually end up feeling all the emotions I shoved back under anxiery so please excuse me if I am not answering anything, I just am not emotionally stable enough for it.

As soon as I am back I am taking care for everything.

WARNINGS: Fluffety Fluff

I never liked it, I lied.

When you came home, you immediately smelled the unpleasant smell of your least favorite dish.

Aldhelm’s favorite, unluckily for you.

He always tried his best to prepare it for you, after you had complimented on it once, wanting to desperately appease the man.

You had been constantly insecure for the first part of your relationship, having your own problematics, constantly worried of the competition with Aethelflaed, his dearest friend and long-time crush before he had met you, although she had actually been the one who had set you up.

Sadly, from then on you hadn’t been able to ever say the truth to Adlhelm and the man had kept on preparing it whenever he felt like it and whenever he thought of cheering you up, although it tasted like chalk in your mouth.

But you couldn’t deny that you appreciated the thought behind the dish.

But each time you hoped not to eat it again.

And yet, whenever you were faced with a plate of that, you always ate it up without tasting too much the flavor of it, although Aldhelm was extremely talented in the kitchen, having quite a passion for it and when his best friend, Aethelflaed, had opened a restaurant, asking him to be her partner in the economical part, he had actually spent more time in the kitchen than setting up deals.

And you loved him immensely for it.

And a few years of being happy together totally showed that.

Everybody around you two was just waiting for Aldhelm to pop up the big question, although you both took it slow, both having your own baggage and thoughts, taking one step at the time, as you kept each other involved in things also outside your relationship.

“Welcome back home” he greeted you, once you were out of your coat and you had dropped the bag in the first corner you could find, smiling brightly at your lover, as he attentively checked the oven and you tried to at least distract yourself from the unwanted meal with a few kisses, meanwhile Aldhelm giggled.

Gosh, you were both so giddy as of lately.

The restaurant he and Athelflaed took care of was slowly taking off and you had been very praised at work.

So, of course Aldhelm had to prepare his favorite meal.

But he had done something more, and he slightly pushed you back from entering fully the kitchen, as you sent him a confused look but eventually relented, more than happy to simply sit back and let your own personal chief do his thing.

The starters were wonderful and you tried your best to stuff your stomach before you went to the first meal, Aldhelm certainly keeping your glass filled with sweet wine and soft words and you celebrated your success and happiness.

No insecurity in view and a bit drunk, you were ready to face the ‘feared’ dish, when Aldhelm moved a bit away from you, just as you were diving in for another kiss, making you yelp in protest but he did ask you to wait.

‘I have a surprise for you’ and you hoped it would be a delicious dessert or an interesting new composition.

He asked you to close your eyes, even going as far as to cover them with his tie, as you muttered softly ‘kinky’ smirking at your idiot, who wasn’t able to stop himself from lowering his lips onto yours in a last kiss.

And you did expect food, since it had happened many times that your food geek had asked you to close your eyes to enjoy the taste and smell of food better, as they did in expensive restaurant.

But the smell didn’t seem to change and instead it intensified the horrid stench of your hated dish and you tried your best to calm yourself, till you felt Aldhelm again in front of you, reigning your face in a soft smile.

And slowly the makeshift blindfold was untied from behind your head, bringing you to face the light again as Aldhelm moved in front of you, lowering himself down on one knees and exiting a small box from behind his back.

A jewelry box.

And you couldn’t help but let out a rather ungraceful shriek.

“… what are you doing, Aldhelm?” you mumbled, as you tried to keep your voice calm, but unable to properly stop yourself from thinking that maybe it wasn’t the best thing that maybe… just maybe he didn’t mean to truly propose himself to you “… is it what I think?”.

And he opened the small casket to reveal a graceful ring, perfectly fitting your personality, something that made you scream loudly again at the marvelous surprise.

“… I know that we have said that we’d take our time, but…” he pursued his lips forward and hadn’t you known that he would have gotten just more nervous, you wanted to kiss them “… but I just can’t help but think that this is a perfect period for a wedding”.

“I have loved you since the first minute you accidentally waved me, since you thought I was your blind date in that restaurant…”.

Your date had actually stood you up and Aldhelm was supposed to meet Aetheflaed, there, but he hadn’t been able to stop himself from joining you and what had started as a simple coincidence had moved in a pleasurable knowledge, making Aldhelm ask you out, again.

‘For real’ this time.

“… and for all these years, you have showed me nothing but love and respect, something that I hope I was able to give to you too”.

“… you did it every day you woke up to me” you replied, and this time you didn’t stop yourself from kissing his lips, making him giggle and forget completely what he was trying to say, as he indulged you in a few more tender kisses.

“I love you” he commented, as he realized that you knew perfectly how much you meant to him “… marry me?”.

“Yes” and you jumped from the chair you had sit yourself onto him as you gently wrapped your arms around him, kissing him softly as you both pushed yourself away from each other, solely for him to slip the ring around your fingers.

And he then suggested he set up again the dinner, so that you could enjoy your meal.

And that’s when you finally realized it.

“… can I tell you a secret, my love?” you mumbled shyly, getting a worried look from Aldhelm, his eyes scanning you worriedly “… nothing dangerous, I swear”.

And then you pointed at the dreaded dish.

“I never liked it, I lied”.

---

Everything Taglist:

@maggiescarborough

TLK Taglist:

@flowers-in-your-hayr

#Aldhelm #Aldhelm Reader #Aldhelm x Reader #Aldhelm Imagine #Aldhelm Fic #Aldhelm Ask #Aldhelm Drabble #Aldhelm Blurb #Aldhelm Moodboard #the last kingdom #tlk #The Lad Kingdom Fic #TLK Fic

[writinginstardust]

Office Christmas Party

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Prompt(s):  we just had a one-night stand but a massive storm hit so now we’re snowed in, hello awkward and “I hate work Christmas parties”

Warnings: suggestive of sexual content, swearing I think

A/N: Thanks to @writingbychelle and someone else for requesting these prompts! Me? Writing an AU? Yeah, that’s actually happening. Reader could be read as any gender in this btw!

Word Count: 1901

*

Ivan. Bane of my existence and quite possibly the most boring man I’d ever met. And he just had to find me on the night when I was supposed to be trying to have a good time for once. He literally would not shut up and I was starting to consider taking drastic measures to get away from him. At least soon I wouldn’t have to see him so much thanks to my imminent department transfer.

“Sorry, (Y/N), I’ve just spotted Aleks and I need a word with him. We can continue this later.” His eyes were trained somewhere over my shoulder as he spoke and he was suitably distracted from me now. Thank god.

“Sure. See you around.” I would not. Not if I could help it. He left without another word and I escaped to the other side of the party, hoping I could disappear in a dark corner and not be found by him again. If it weren’t so early in the evening and I hadn’t promised the girls in my department I’d stay, I’d have left then and there. Work parties were never something I’d particularly enjoyed. I didn’t know half the people there and of the half I did know, there were few I liked and even less that I’d like to see outside of the office. Add alcohol into the mix and it was a recipe for a vaguely hellish night. 

Grabbing a drink, I made my way to a quiet corner with a mostly empty couch, only one other person occupying it. The man had a drink in hand and looked fed up. Clearly I wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to be here. 

He looked up as I sank down next to him but didn’t say anything. I looked over, studying him for a minute. Someone I’d never met before which was a shame because he was drop dead gorgeous. Silky-looking blond hair, hazel eyes, jawline that could cut glass, impeccably dressed and styled perfectly on the line between casual and smart. It was a roguish handsomeness and I immediately found myself inexplicably drawn to him.

“You look like you’d rather be literally anywhere else,” I said after another couple of silent moments. He turned those beautiful eyes on me, a little smile playing on his lips that made my chest feel light.

“That’s because I would. I hate work Christmas parties.”

“You’re not the only one.” 

“Why are you here then?”

“I was forced by the girls in my department. What about you?” He pursed his lips, considering his answer for a minute.

“It was something of an obligation.” Strange obligation but I wouldn’t enquire further. “I’m Nikolai by the way.” He extended a hand to me and it was soft and warm when I shook it. Nikolai. That name sounded familiar but I couldn’t place why.

“(Y/N).”

“Can I get you another drink, (Y/N)?” I glanced down and found I’d managed to finish the one I picked up on the way here already.

“Yes, thank you. Raspberry Cosmo please.” He took my empty glass and headed for the bar. I watched him go, unable to keep my eyes from admiring his form in that perfectly tailored suit and the easy confidence he carried himself with. How had I never noticed this man before? He seemed to be the type that would have the girls in the office swooning and gossiping on the regular at the very least. Maybe they had and I’d just been too busy to notice. That must be it.

Nikolai returned quickly and for the rest of the night the conversation flowed as freely as the drinks. We ducked out of the party just before 11 and Nikolai invited me back to his place. Normally I would have politely declined. One night stands weren’t something I did, especially not with colleagues, however infrequently I might see them. But, well, I was more than drunk enough to shut off the rational part of my brain that was telling me this was a bad idea, and Nikolai was all kinds of perfect. I knew I’d regret it if this was my one chance and I didn’t take it.

So, I ended up in his bed and let him completely ruin me for any other man. He was a perfect gentleman, even in the midst of a drunken hookup and my god he was one talented bastard, managing to turn a pretty shit night into one of the best in my life.

*

It was bright when I woke up. Too bright. Even taking into account my hangover and how late in the day it probably was, it was much too bright. I opened my eyes as much as I could bear and squinted at my surroundings. It wasn’t my room and for a moment I was confused until the memories came flooding back. So that would also explain the warm body next to me then. The one that was shifting and looking very close to waking up. That would be my cue to leave then.

Quietly as I was able to, I slipped out of the bed and pulled my clothes back on, not bothering to properly fix my appearance until I’d left the room and gotten into the living room. It was there that the problem arose. The blinds were wide open and blinding white hit my eyes. Snow was everywhere and, though we were several stories up, I could tell it was deep. There was barely a soul on the streets and those few that I could see appeared to be almost up to their chests in it. There was no way I was going to be able to get out of this building, let alone back to my own apartment across town. Shit.

The soft pad of footsteps drew my attention from the window and I turned to find Nikolai vacating his room. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed me and his brow furrowed in confusion even as a small smile graced his lips.

“I thought you’d gone,” he said, voice scratchy.

“That might be a problem.” I gestured to the window and he took a few steps closer to me, eyes widening when he noticed all the snow.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” Silence followed and I had no idea how to break it. What the hell was I meant to do now? I couldn’t leave but I couldn’t just stay here after last night, that would be unbelievably awkward. “Well, since you’re stuck here, would you like to borrow some clothes? I can’t imagine those are very comfortable.”

“You want me to stay here?” I asked in surprise.

“Well, what else are you going to do? You can’t go out in that.” He had a point.

“Won’t it be awkward?”

“Because we had sex?” I nodded and he shrugged. “It’s not that big a deal. Might be a different story if it was bad.” He grinned and winked and heat flared in my cheeks but I found myself grinning back.

“Well it definitely wasn’t bad.”

“Then we don’t have a problem.” And just like that I was completely at ease again. “So, clothes?”

“Yes please.” I followed him back into his room and sat on the bed as he rummaged through his wardrobe for something comfortable and vaguely size appropriate.

“These are about the best I can do,” he said apologetically as he tossed a t-shirt and sweats to me. I pulled them on quickly, the material incredibly soft against my skin even if the clothes didn’t quite fit right. “Here, you can borrow this too.” He handed me what looked to be an old sports team hoodie and I held it up to inspect, curious at this new piece of information. I froze as I caught sight of the name emblazoned on the back. Lantsov. God, please let this not be what I thought. Nikolai noticed my reaction and shot me a questioning look.

“You okay?”

“Lantsov…” I looked up at him, wide-eyed. “As in…”

“Yeah.”

“Oh god.” That was why the name rang a bell and why I’d never seen him before. So, not only had I hooked up with someone from work, I’d managed to pick the CEO’s son. The CEO’s son who just so happened to be the reason for my transfer. I was going to be his personal assistant and I’d just slept with him. Could things have gone any worse?

“What’s wrong?” He asked, taking a seat beside me.

“You know how I told you last night that I was getting transferred?”

“I do.” A moment later it seemed to dawn on him. “Oh.”

“Yeah. I’m going to be your assistant.” We sat in awkward silence for a minute or two. That had made things a whole lot worse. Now we were going to have to work together every day, how on Earth was that going to work after last night?

“Well, as your new boss, I should probably tell you I don’t make a habit of sleeping with my employees.” Nikolai finally said.

“I don’t usually sleep with colleagues or superiors either.”

“That being said. I’m not opposed to this happening again.” I looked at him in disbelief.

“You can’t be serious?”

“I am.”

“Is that even allowed?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time a PA and their boss ended up together.” The way he said that implied more than just the casual sex I thought he’d been talking about and I couldn’t deny the way my heart fluttered at the thought.

“So…?”

“So, I know we only met last night but I like you and I’d like to take you out on a proper date.” My breath hitched at the offer and I itched to just say yes but the rational part of my brain was working uninhibited by alcohol now.

“And what if it doesn’t work out? What do we do about work?”

“I assure you, I can be perfectly professional if that should happen. I’d like to hope it won’t though.” And god, so did I.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll give it a try.” He grinned and leaned in to kiss me, managing to leave me breathless even though it was relatively tame. I followed his lips instinctively when he pulled back and his grin widened. 

“Y’know,” he started, hands sliding around my waist and pulling me a little closer. “I was going to suggest watching movies all day, but I think I might have a better idea.”

“I think I might too,” I breathed out before Nikolai connected our lips again, the kiss far more suggestive than last time bust still unhurried. He guided me back on the bed and pressed closer.

With my fingers tangled in his hair and his tracing the lines of my body, we made out lazily for what could very well have been hours though I couldn’t be sure and didn’t really care. There wasn’t much else to do after all and the longer I was with him, the more difficult it became to think of a good reason to keep my hands to myself. Nikolai appeared to have the same problem. Coherent thoughts that weren’t about him were buried deep down as his touch made me forget anything else, but a single one reached me through the haze: maybe work Christmas parties weren’t so bad after all.

*

Tag Lists: (send an ask if you want to be added!)

Everything: @wonderfilledness @writingbychelle @ad-astraaaa @moderngenius94

Grishaverse: @chiefqueenenthusiast @unconditional-love-and-support

#nikolai lantsov #Grishaverse #The Grisha Trilogy #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov fanfic #grishaverse fanfic #grishaverse imagine #tgt #tgt fanfic #tgt imagine #reader insert

[queencarolinemikaelson]

After a solid number of years: Chapter Nine of care-bear-forbes and the-lonely-hybrid. You can read chapters 1-8 HERE on ff.

//

Caroline woke from her fitful sleep only a few short hours after falling into bed.

She honestly couldn't believe the night she had.

Surreal.

It was the only word for it.

Caroline knew she would have to go in to work at some point, but in that moment, she decided on some self-care. She rose briefly to make some breakfast and a cup of tea, before snuggling back bed to process what she was feeling.

Firstly, there was the opening party of her very own club! It was happening! All those years of planning and dreaming, coming to spectacular fruition. The next goal to focus on was the official first official day of regular trade, which was just four nights away, and there was still plenty to do to make sure they were ready.

Secondly, she met Klaus Mikaelson. Klaus Mikaelson; of all the people to attend a party she threw. That was a thing all to itself! Add the completely insane revelation that Klaus was actually her old friend Nik made it all the wilder.

Nik.

Nik.

Nik, who she had loved and hated in equal measures, who both saved and damned her. She could hardly wrap her mind around the fact that he had been standing as close as two feet from her, mere hours ago.

She never thought her life could share so many plot points with a romantic comedy, but here she was.

Also, how the hell had she not noticed the similarities between Klaus and Nik? Surely she wasn't that dull. She had been blogging him like a maniac for years? Was she just blind, or just stupid?

Though, if the feeling she was experiencing right now was anything to go by, it was just too bizarre to reconcile the two as the same person. She always kept them so specifically apart from each other in her mind, so the connection was never obvious. Add the physical changes one goes through during their 20s, and maybe she was neither blind, nor stupid.

She took a sip of her tea, and let her head fall back onto her bed's headboard.

What on earth could she do with all this new found information?

If she was deeply honest with herself, Caroline knew her instinct was to run. Run away from the big city, back to her country town life. Where she could live away from this dread,and all the emotion being trudged back into her life.

But even as she considered it, Caroline knew she would never be happy if she did – as tempting as it was. She spent too long coming to terms with Nik's disappearance to let to control her life again. She also spent far too long working toward her dream business to walk away, for that matter.

As Caroline took another sip of tea, she realised that was what she kept coming back to.

Her life, her dream; that's what was important now.

She spent too long sifting through grief, too many hours crying, too many days of numbness to just forgive and forget. No matter how long Klaus promised.

The prize of his love may have been sweet, but to be swept up in grand romance… That wasn't who she was anymore.

A deep understanding settled over her, and it was terrifying to finally know what she wanted. To relinquish something she held so tightly, for so long.

But it nestled into her heart resolutely.

xxx

Klaus woke with a splitting headache. His metabolism was good, but it wasn't that good.

He was wrapped in a blanket on a semi-comfortable couch, far from his hotel bed, and Klaus groaned as he remembered his somewhat-drunken, extremely early visit to his sister. He also remembered drinking a little bit more after Rebekah went back to bed, to try and wipe Caroline completely from his memory

Fat lot of good it did him, though. Not only was his hangover worse, but he could still remember every detail of every moment of their conversation.

"Morning!" the cheery voice of his sister sang. "You look like absolute death, Niklaus. What sweet comeuppance."

"Thank you sister," he grumbled, immediately regretting it, as a wave of nausea hit him. "I'm going back to sleep."

"Uh huh, you do that," she smirked, in uncanny resemblance to her brother. "I'll make you something greasy when you wake next time."

Klaus fell back asleep almost immediately.

Why he'd insisted on stirring in the first place, he didn't know.

A few more hours passed before Klaus regained consciousness again. While he felt a damn side better this time, he was still feeling pretty rotten.

"He lives!" Bekah said, who was sitting next to him on the couch watching some trashy show on the television. "How about bacon?"

Klaus just nodded as he sat up, but didn't say anything.

Though, again, why he bothered trying to be awake was beyond him, because now, instead of waves of nausea hitting him, it was waves of utter mortification.

He would never admit it to anyone, but Klaus had imagined a reunion with Caroline many times. But none of them had involved him being slovenly drunk at 3am. How had that happened?

And to tell her he loved her and still did? What was he thinking!

Klaus sat in his humiliation silently, hoping it would relent somehow, until Bekah placed a steaming pile of bacon and eggs in front of him, as well as a very strong black coffee and a glass of water.

"So," she started, and Klaus just knew he wasn't going to be able to dodge these questions. "You met the love of your life."

"I did," Klaus said, forfeiting all pretext. It was Rebekah after all.

"And you told her you loved her."

"Yes."

"And you that you wanted to be her last love."

"I did," he said again.

"Very smooth," Rebekah said sardonically, inspecting her nails for non-existent imperfections. "Though, given the state you were in when you got here, I guess there's more to it than instant happily ever after?"

"I suppose," Klaus said, taking a big bite of bacon to save him having to respond more substantively.

"Oh, Nik," Bekah sighed. "Who even is this woman?"

"She's someone I knew a long time ago," Klaus said carefully, thinking it would be safe to answer that, given that Klaus barely told anyone about Caroline back when he knew her.

"Do you mean that online friend of yours?" Rebekah asked.

"How did you…?"

Rebekah just shrugged, innocently.

"You told me once about her, then told me another time you had a crush on someone who could never know the real you. Plus, you spent so much time on that website when you were a teenager," she replied. "Two and two."

"That's some pretty thin reasoning, Bekah," Klaus said, a bit defensive.

"Perhaps," she replied, coolly. "But your reaction confirmed it."

"It could have been anyone. It could have been Tatia!"

"Oh pish," Rebekah said, dismissively. "Tatia was a witch, and we both know it. All the women you've ever dated are not last love material, Nik."

Klaus shrugged, she was right of course. His track record with woman was visually stellar, but none of them were an epic love.

"Do you actually love her?" Rebekah asked, blunt as ever.

Klaus' cautious silence answered her question better than he could with words. Because the truth was, of course, how could he know he loved her?

Marshalling his thoughts into something resembling coherent, Klaus knew the major takeaway was of course he'd jumped the gun on telling her he loved her. He hadn't spoken to her in a decade. That kind of lack of communication wasn't a basis for love.

But he knew he wanted to try. Needed to try. Needed to see if she was what he remembered, needed to discover if his selfishness had ruined them completely, needed to understand the part of him that really was convinced he was still in love.

"I need to find out I do," Klaus said, for once, incredibly vulnerable.

But, Klaus realised he was always vulnerable when it came to Caroline. She was perhaps the only person beyond his blood that he volunteered his vulnerability to.

Perhaps that was why he cut her out so completely, because his reinvented Klaus Mikaelson was never vulnerable. A weakness like Caroline wasn't something he wanted the luxury of back when. He wanted the luxury of power.

"I best be on my way, little sister," Klaus said, as he pulled himself up from the couch, unable to sit still any longer. "Things to do. I suppose I have to make my way to the airport at some point. Thank you for breakfast, and the place to stay."

"Any time, Nik," Rebekah said, softly. "Good luck with everything."

He pressed a quick kiss to his sister's forehead, and slipped out the door before deciding where to go.

xxx

Two weeks later

Caroline sat in her office, staring at her paperwork.

She had been staring at it for days, really, and the more time separating her from her first encounter with Nik, the less she was able to push him from her mind.

It was now two weeks after the opening party. And nearly two weeks since they begun official trade.

Opening night, much like the party, had been a wild success. They had been at capacity for a few hours, and even had a queue for a while there, on a Wednesday.

And the days since had been exceeding what she had hoped for her first couple of weeks open. While there were some obvious kinks and stumbling blocks, as there was with any new business, Caroline let herself consider the idea that maybe this wasn't the completely crazy, doomed-to-fail venture others thought it was.

They were due to open for in a few hours, and she was excited. It really was exhilarating, running her own business. But, despite the success and excitement, Caroline was really struggling to the find motivation to do the pencil pushing part of her chosen business.

Because all she could think about was him.

In the two weeks since their encounter, Caroline had felt a myriad of things.

While she started off with whole-hearted conviction in what she wanted to say to him, after a few days, and some more lonely nights, she let herself imagine, wonder on all the what-ifs of life with Klaus. The life they could explore and discover together, what being his last love would be like…

Then she got mad. Filled with fury at the gall of him, after a decade to blind sight her with wild declarations of love, and empty promises of forever.

Then she was back to swayed by the romance of it all.

The underlying link connecting all her conflicting emotions was that it took a miracle for her not be consumed by thoughts of him, with work as the only thing that seemed to take her mind away.

But, now with opening day behind her, and a couple of weeks under her belt, apparently even that wasn't enough.

And so, she was back to being frustrated and upset with him.

Who the hell goes around saying I intend to be your last love and then vanishes.

Who the hell has the audacity to show up, after ten years, confessing an unending love, then doesn't even have the decency to provide contact details.

His complete lack of contact since he showed up out of the blue, solidified in Caroline's mind, that she was right. That her resolution to be frank and honest with him was exactly what she needed to do, even as much as she wanted to fall into him and never look back.

So imagine the storm of emotions she felt as someone tapped on the shoulder – hours after giving up on pretending to do paperwork, while gazing upon the second night of her dream – and she looked straight into the eyes of a man who never seemed to be too far from her mind.

"Klaus."

//

This has been such a long time in the making. Review HERE if you feel inclined. I’d love the feedback O:) and I love you all. Watch this space for part ten, which is written! So will not be another three years from now. Woohoo!!

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #cheesecake's chook scratchings #what a TIME to be alive lol #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fanfic

[calicobelmonte]

I Can’t Forget You

Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Tom broke up with you months ago, but he still can’t seem to get you out of his mind. Instead of breaking your heart, he broke his own.

Warnings: Angst, drinking, some more angst- the works :D

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: Hey, so this is my first story on this site, hope you guys enjoy! I was inspired by the song Amnesia, cover by Gavin Mikhail (originally by 5sos), so if you want to listen to it, I’ll just say it’s super good and sad ;P (Apple Music link, Spotify link)

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was the fourth time that month.

Tom lay awake in his bed, so tired but unable to fall asleep. The bed felt too big without her, the air too quiet without the sounds of her soft breaths.

He couldn’t figure out why he was thinking of her, three months after their breakup. He’d been the one to cut it off after all, too caught up in the attention and the fame that came with being an A-list celebrity.

He thought he didn’t love her. He thought he didn’t need her. In all honesty, he thought he was too good for her. So why was he here, thinking of the scent of her shampoo when she tucked her head under his chin, the way only the left side of her lip would curl up when she found him adorably annoying, the way she would whisper “I love you” against his skin when she thought he was asleep?

He automatically reached for her, clenching his fingers when his hand met only empty sheets.

Running his hand down his face, he was astonished to find his cheeks wet with tears. He wrapped his arms around his pillow and tried to ignore the growing hole that had been forming in his chest since a month before.

He didn’t miss her. He most definitely did not. And he couldn’t possibly regret breaking up with her, not at all.

So why was he drinking so much these days, going to so many Hollywood parties, trying to get the thought of her out of his head?

He tossed and turned for a few more minutes before he gave up trying to fall asleep and sighed, stepping out of bed and wrapping a blanket around his bare shoulders before heading to the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of gin, trying to lose himself in the daze that the alcohol would bring.

“It’s not because of her,” he told himself as he tipped the drink down his throat, wincing at the burn. It was a welcome pain.

As he sat hunched over his empty glass, his head in his hands, all he could see was her face, floating in front of his eyes like a mirage.

He poured himself another glass and drained it just as quickly, then another glass, then another, until he had finished the whole bottle, and yet he could see her face so clearly despite the fact that everything else was a blur and the fact that it had been two damn months since he last saw her and he just-

“Goddamnit!” He roared, swiping both his glass and empty bottle off the table angrily. They shattered against the wall with an accusing clamor.

He sank to the ground, the intoxication not erasing her but instead the walls he had built denying the truth, and he cried freely, hitting the ground with his hand again and again.

“I miss you,” he keened quietly. “I miss you and I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.”

And he was. He was so, so sorry that he had let her go, that he was so self-absorbed, that he had failed to realize that it was not him that was better than her, but she outshone him a million times and more.

Always compassionate, always kind-hearted, always there for him, and he ruined it.

Even though he was so inebriated that he could barely recall his own name, he remembered her so clearly.

She was a paradox, a hardened, no bullshit girl with a heart as soft as cotton. So strong, she faced the world with walls of titanium and words of fire, never afraid to defend what she thought was right. So gentle, she cradled the broken and the lonely in her arms, her eyes shining with the weight of her love for him, for everyone needing to be loved.

Her voice wasn’t music or a summer breeze, her eyes weren’t made of sunlight or the ocean, her skin didn’t smell like flowers or honey, or that other bullshit those songs made you believe. She wasn’t some ethereal goddess, she was human, she was so human, with a human’s resilience and empathy. And he had loved her so much for it.

He wanted to forget her. He wanted to forget the last time she kissed him, before he broke her heart, when her eyes were so impossibly soft and how her lips tasted like the coffee she was drinking. He wanted to forget how warm she felt curled up beside him in his bed, her hands stroking his hair as he fell asleep. And more than anything, he wanted to forget how much he loved her.

Suddenly desperate to see her, he lurched to his feet and stumbled to his bedroom to grab his phone off his bedside table, collapsing to the floor before clumsily unlocking it. He leaned against his bed, drunk and woozy and needing the comfort of her smile, even if it wasn’t real.

He knew she kept all her social media accounts private, and he knew that he didn’t have access to any of them. Stumped for a moment, he recalled that her friends left their accounts open to the public, and they probably had pictures of her.

Racking his foggy brain to remember their names, he searched one up with shaking fingers, almost dropping his phone when her face greeted him.

She had an arm wrapped around her friend, laughing into the camera as her friend hugged her waist tightly.

He studied her face carefully through his lidded eyes. She’d gotten skinnier, the circles under her eyes were darker, and he realized with a pang that it was probably because of him. But her smile was the same as ever, making the world around her brighter.

He stroked her face, running his fingertips over the image of her cheeks, flushed with laughter, and smiled down at her.

He didn’t notice that he was crying again until water splashed off his chin and onto his phone, blurring the picture of her.

He wiped it off with the corner of his blanket, his hands shaking violently. Seeing her made him miss her more terribly, and he couldn’t help but let out a low moan of pain.

Unconsciously, he dialed her number. He had deleted her contact a long time ago, but despite his doped-up mind, he could see her digits flashing behind his eyes.

For the first time that night, he hesitated, wondering if he was making a mistake. But the urge to hear her voice again overtook all logic and he threw caution to the wind.

For a few seconds, all he could hear was the faint brring brring of the call. Then there was a beep! and there it was, her voice, so familiar and beautiful that he held back another sob. “Hey, it’s Y/N , sorry I missed your call. Leave a message, thanks!”

He didn’t hang up for a while, just listening to the dead silence on the other side with an aching heart.

He needed to hear her. He needed her voice to ease the stabbing hurt that stabbed into his chest with every breath, he needed her.

He called her again, but when she didn’t pick up, he called her again, and again, and again. After the first few times, he gave up on the hope that she would pick up, and instead just kept calling to hear the tinny recorded audio of her voice.

He kept calling her, and fell asleep to the umpteeth time she said, “.....sorry I missed you…..”

* * * * * * * * * * *

He woke up to the sound of his ringtone blasting into his ear. Groaning, he picked himself off the floor and squinted in the blinding morning light, disoriented and hungover.

Yawning, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and blinked sleepily. “God, what time is it?” He caught a glimpse of the time flashing on his phone and mumbled, “Who’s calling so early?”

He fumbled to pick his phone up, the cheerful music blaring from his phone making his pounding headache worse with every beat.

Without even checking who was calling, he answered to cut off that awful music, and brought it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hello? God, who are you, and why did you call me fifty-seven times at two forty-five last night? Couldn’t you have waited till morning to tell me whatever you needed to tell me?”

He went speechless. Her voice was so unexpected but welcome, and just as he’d remembered it. His eyes welled with tears again, but he blinked them away.

“Hello? Are you still there? Hello?” There it was again, fiery and bright, like her.

“I’m assuming you called for an important reason, but if you don’t talk I’m going to hang up.”

This snapped him out of his daze and he cleared his throat. “Hey,” he croaked.

“Hi. Who’s this?”

“Hey,” he repeated. “It’s- it’s…..Tom.”

#um idk man #ik tom has a gf now but this is a work of fiction #i love writing angst #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tomhollandxreader #tomholland #tom holland #angst #fanfic #idfk how to do tags plz dont flame me for this bs

[backtothestart02]

Hot to the Touch - 2/?

A/N: I love this fic. lol. Hopefully you enjoy this chapter as much as I do! There will probably be at least two more to go.

For @iriswestallenhuh for our fics-for-icons arrangement. :P

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

...

Synopsis: College!AU - Of all the places Iris expected to meet the love of her life, she never imagined it would be the erotica section at the back of her favorite bookstore. 

...

Chapter 2 -

His heart was still pounding when he rounded the corner and found himself across the street from his dorm. The walk had only been a couple blocks, but it felt like he’d been walking for miles, power-walking, trying to erase the image of a beautiful woman inconspicuously getting herself off in the back aisle of a bookstore he didn’t even know existed.

Truth was, he didn’t really want to get the image out of his head, but it felt like such an invasion of privacy that he’d walked in on her like that. It made him feel guilty for wanting to see more.

And he’d tried – he’d tried – to tell himself that she hadn’t really been doing anything other than innocently reading a book and getting engrossed in it. But he’d seen the sign for Erotica clear as day just two aisles before he got to her and no other sign in that space. And he’d been shocked to see her there – to see anyone really, because the bookstore in and of itself felt like a hidden treasure – but there was no mistaking the hazy look in her eyes, her teeth biting her bottom lip, and her legs rubbing against each other in a provocative motion. And when she’d registered him standing there, he could’ve sworn she was a little flustered herself, even in her shock.

No, he hadn’t imagined it. She’d been getting herself off. And he had interrupted her.

And then ran out of there as fast as his legs could carry him, because…how mortifying.

And really, he needed something to take the edge off that wasn’t masturbating to the memory of her doing the same. Because then he’d never get her out of his head, which would be problematic since he’d never see her again. And if he did, it’d be equally embarrassing for both of them.

He regretted everything and nothing. He needed to confess what he’d witnessed, but only to Cisco. He trusted no one else with this knowledge.

He was so agitated, he crossed the street in a hurry, ignorant of the cars honking at him, since the light had just turned green. Once inside and in front of their door, he found he couldn’t find the right key. Cisco had told him so many times there was no need for so many keys on one ring when he only really used their dorm key a majority of the time, but Barry had insisted it was better to keep them all in one place because, ‘You never know when you might need one! Better to be prepared.’ ‘Okay, boy scout,’ Cisco had rolled his eyes, and that had been the end of that.

In this particular instance, Barry wished he had listened.

His fingers were so slippery with sweat against the metal, and they were shaking, and he was breathing so heavily that finally the door swung open, revealing a stressed-looking Cisco on the other side, and he realized he must have heard him.

Oh, no, Barry thought. We can’t both be stressed.

“What is going on?” Cisco demanded.

Barry swallowed hard, trying to get himself under control.

“I saw a girl.” He pushed past his roommate into the room and started to pace, running his fingers through his hair nervously.

Slowly, Cisco closed the door behind him and turned around.

“What do you mean, you saw a girl?”

“I mean,” he paused dramatically. “I saw a girl.”

Cisco walked in front of Barry, who stopped and narrowed his eyebrows.

“What is that code for?”

“I-” His mouth ran dry. He gulped. “I saw her doing something.”

“Doing something,” Cisco repeated flatly.

“Mhmm.” Barry nodded, eyes wide.

“You’re going to have to be a little more specific, man. What is the something she was doing?”

“She was doing-” He sucked in a breath of air, seemingly unable to get another word out.

Cisco rolled his eyes, then guided his roommate to the couch in their little living room.

“Okay, how about you sit down. I’ll get you some water, and then you can tell me what happened.”

Barry breathed deeply and sat, sinking back into the couch.

“O-Okay.”

A few moments later, Cisco was back in front of him handing him a glass of water.

“Thanks.”

He waited for him to take a few sips and set it down on the coffee table.

“Feel better?”

“A little.”

“Okay then. Tell me what happened.”

Barry took a deep breath, and then-

A sound that reminded him an awful lot of either a sheep or a goat interrupted them from behind Cisco’s bedroom door.

“Cisco-”

“Don’t-”

But it was no use. Barry pushed the door open, and out walked a baby goat, bleating as it went and stopping right in front of Cisco’s feet. The latter sighed. Barry’s lips twitched.

“What are you doing with a goat, Cisco?”

“No, no, no, don’t make this about me now.” He walked straight up to Barry, pointing his finger accusingly. The baby goat followed after him, making it impossible for Barry to take his roommate seriously. “We were talking about you.”

Barry laughed and took a seat back on the couch.

“No, I think this is much more interesting. How did you come to have a goat in your possession?”

Cisco grumbled, admitting defeat as he ran a hand over his face and sat beside his best friend. The goat attempted to jump onto the couch, but Cisco ordered it to sit, and obediently, it did.

“The guest you assumed I had last night?”

“She turned into a goat?” Barry asked, amused.

“Ha.” Cisco glared. “No. And I didn’t get lucky, either. I thought I was going to, but apparently she just needed a place to crash and fell asleep the second she made it in to the couch. I set some water out and went to bed. When I woke up, she was gone and this goat was sitting at the foot of my bed. I don’t have a number for her, and all I’ve got is a first name to go by. I’m not even sure this animal is hers, but I can’t imagine who else it could belong to.” He sighed.

“Well, we can’t keep it, Cisco.”

“Obviously!” He fell back against the couch. “I’m open to suggestions.” He glanced over at Barry, interrupting him just as he was opening his mouth to potentially give him one. “After you tell me about what happened with the girl. I’m guessing she was pretty.”

Resigned, Barry sighed and nodded.

“Yeah, prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“What’d she look like?” Cisco asked, suddenly sounding as eager as a school girl for some gossip.

Barry ignored that, because really, he needed to confess this.

He shrugged. “Petite. Dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes…”

“You saw her eyes?”

A vision of when he’d been caught red-handed flashed before his eyes.

“Yeah.” He gulped. “For a second.”

“Okay. Enough beating around the bush, Allen. What was she doing that’s got you so flustered and blushing like-” He paused, the blinding realization hitting him suddenly. “Oh, God. You caught her in a private moment?” Barry nodded sheepishly. “With herself?” Barry didn’t say anything, but he turned a bright red. To be fair, even Cisco’s cheeks warmed up.

“Well.” Cisco cleared his throat. “No wonder.” His brows furrowed a moment later. “You’ve been with girls before, though, Barry. At least twice. This can’t be the first time you’ve seen-”

“She wasn’t naked, Cisco.” His voice squeaked. “It’s the fact that I don’t know her. She’s a stranger and she was doing something I shouldn’t have been allowed to see. It’s embarrassing, and I feel so…guilty. I invaded her privacy.”

He sounded so scandalized Cisco almost had to laugh, but he held it in.

“It sounds like it was an honest mistake, Barry. And like you didn’t stick around to see what would happen.”

“No.” Barry shook his head rapidly. “I got out of there as fast as I could.”

“Oh, boy.”

Cisco squeezed his shoulder.

“Look, I really think you’re making this a bigger thing than it needs to be, but if you’re having trouble getting the incident out of your head, why don’t we go out tonight? Get drunk at some party?”

Barry glared. “We’re underage, Cisco.”

“I think you need it, Barry.” Barry opened his mouth to protest, but Cisco interrupted him again. “You said Ralph was pestering you before. What was it about?”

Barry sighed but inevitably caved.

“He wants me to go to a party with him, but I know it’s just to be his designated driver because he plans on getting drunk. I said I’d think about picking him up if he called.”

“What if we both go to the party?”

“Cisco-”

“I’ll be the designated driver, so if you decide to break the law and drink your trauma away, I can drive both of you fools home.”

Barry glared.

“I won’t take no for an answer,” he said in a sing-song voice.

“What about the goat?”

The animal bleated at the mention of its existence. Cisco looked down into its cute, innocent face.

“I think Caitlin owes me a favor.”

…

Linda walked into the doorway of Iris’ bedroom at the exact moment Iris was tugging her lacy, black push-up bra up and her snug-fitting coral tank down. She was further amused when she yanked the black leather mini-skirt she’d chosen farther up her waist, so the hem would reach mid-thigh at best and just below her ass when she bent down to adjust the straps on her glistening high heels. She was just reaching for the jewelry on the top of her dresser when her eyes locked with Linda’s, a smile tugging at the corner of her best friend’s lips.

“Caught red-handed, West.”

Iris felt heat warm her cheeks, but she cleared her throat and brought the sparkly choker to her neck anyway.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, adjusting her long locks over her shoulders just before leaning towards the mirror to apply her make-up.

Linda laughed and walked past her, plopping herself down on her bed.

“You’re a liar.”

Iris sighed after puckering her lips and setting down the pretty shade she’d chosen to complement her clothes and her complexion.

“So, I’m dressing up a little. It’s a party.”

“That you didn’t want to go to.”

“I still don’t.” She propped a hand on her hip.

Linda raised her eyebrows, silently waiting.

“I just figured…I should look the part of a hostess.”

“Co-hostess,” Linda corrected.

“Yes, of course.” She smiled politely.

Linda swung her leg over her knee and drummed her fingers.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain someone potentially showing up tonight, would it?”

Iris bristled. “You wouldn’t invite him.”

“I didn’t!” she insisted, holding her hands in the air in surrender. “But, uh…I didn’t say invites-only either, and I spread the news far and wide. He goes to CCU. Chances are he heard of it.”

Iris pursed her lips, contemplating the possible dilemma.

“Well, who cares?”

Linda raised her eyebrows again, further amused.

“Are you hoping he’ll be there? So he can… see what he’s been missing?”

Iris grinned. “Well, I hadn’t thought of that. But now that you say it, yes.”

“He’ll prob have a skank or two on his arms.” She rolled her eyes. “They prob will only be slightly more revealing than you are, I might add.”

Iris’ eyes narrowed. “The difference is I have style.”

“That’s true,” Linda allowed.

“Besides,” Iris tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I’m not looking for a hook-up.” She met her eyes. “If that’s what you’re implying.”

Linda eyed her, suspicious. “You’re not?”

“No! Of course not!” She scoffed. “The fact that you even have to ask me that is-”

“I didn’t say with Eddie.”

She frowned.

“You’re not dressing up – or down – for him.” She got to her feet and approached her best friend mischievously. “So, who are you dressing for?”

“I – uh – n-no one!” She pushed past her, looking for something to distract herself with.

“You’re blushing!”

She spun around. “You can’t tell that!”

Linda rolled her eyes. “You sound like you’re blushing.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“You’re flustered, then.” Iris opened her mouth to defend herself, but Linda kept going. “You stuttered and ran away from me.” Iris sighed, her shoulders hunching in defeat. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Iris avoided her gaze as she came closer.

“Did you meet someone?” Iris said nothing. “Where? When?” She paused. “At the bookstore? Today?”

Iris’ eyes flashed to hers, her mouth hanging open.

“How do you do that?”

Linda grinned and shrugged. “It’s a gift.” She continued when Iris was apparently rendered speechless. “So…are you gonna tell me about him? Is he hot?” She asked, going to sit back on her bed again. “Will I want him?” She winked when Iris’ head whipped up to look at her. “Kidding.” She laughed. “Finders keepers, he’s all yours.”

She sighed and came to sit next to her.

“He probably won’t be here, and it’s not like I want a relationship. I’m not ready for that.”

“So, you do want a hook-up,” she declared triumphantly.

Iris groaned. “Lindaaa.”

She laughed. “There’s no shame in that. You deserve to get some, and there are lots of bedrooms at the mansion.”

“In the house you grew up in?!” she asked, scandalized.

“It’s not like you have to do it in my bedroom.” She paused. “Or my parents’.” She licked her lips and started to grin. “Though theirs does have the biggest bed, and the view from their balcony is truly romantic.” She glanced over at her friend, who was currently glaring at her. “But I forgot, you don’t want romance.”

“I don’t,” she said stubbornly.

“Well, fine then. You’re certainly not dressed for it.”

“Linda,” she warned.

“Relax, Iris.” She rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms soothingly. “It’ll be a good time even if you don’t get your hook-up tonight, or even if you don’t get it with the guy you like. You deserve to get laid. It’s been too long. I’d have died already if I was you.”

Iris snorted. “Does that mean you’re going to end up in one of the bedrooms?”

Linda sighed. “Unfortunately not. As the hostess, I should prob have my wits about me and not some jock’s face between my thighs.”

Iris shook her head. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

“I love you, too, darling,” she said, pressing a quick kiss to her best friend’s face. “Now let’s get the hell out of here. We’ve got two hours to set up, and you know people will start showing up in one.”

Iris blew some locks out of her face.

“All right then. Let’s get this show on the road.”

Iris grabbed her clutch, a light jacket and the keys for the apartment, then followed her roommate out into the living room and out the door.

She’d been in denial about wanting to see the guy at the bookstore again, especially given the way they’d met, but since she’d been unable to envision any guy in her books as anyone but him the rest of the time she’d been there, she figured maybe a hook-up would get him out of her system and she could go back to envisioning total body-building hunks like the ones on the covers of the books she read.

Maybe.

…

Barry leaned back against the wall and glanced into the red plastic cup Cisco had deposited in his hand an hour ago, still debating whether he could trust the liquid that was inside it.

“It’s punch, dude,” Cisco had said when Barry first looked at with serious skepticism.

“Is it spiked punch?” he accused, glaring.

Cisco laughed. “No!” He took a sip from his own cup of ‘punch’, then licked his lips. “I don’t think so at least.”

“Ugh. Take it.” Barry tried to force his cup back into his best friend’s hand, but it was rejected.

“No. No. Even if it is spiked, it can’t be much if I’m not even sure if I can taste it. And if you don’t start having fun soon, you may want a little innocent extra kick.”

Barry sighed. “Why are you so determined to break the rules? Did Ralph put you up to this?”

Amused, Cisco turned and pointed at a very drunk Ralph in the corner with two blondes sprawled over him and three empty beer cans sitting near him on the floor.

“I really don’t think Ralph cares whether you get drunk or not.”

Barry shook his head, disgusted.

Cisco laughed again. “Okay, look, I’m going to try my hand at introducing myself to the pretty girl sitting all by her lonesome on the edge of the pool.”

Barry looked past him to see the girl in question.

“Kendra Saunders?”

“She’s in my bio class, and I think she might like me.”

“Shouldn’t you be looking for the girl whose goat you still have?”

Irritated, Cisco threw up his hands.

“For all I know, that girl turned into the goat!”

Barry scoffed. “Cisco.”

“You suggested it!”

“I was joking.”

“Either way.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not going to worry about it tonight.”

“You’re gonna owe Caitlin one though after tonight. I mean, pretending to be sick so she’d have a good enough excuse to give Ronnie instead of ‘I need to watch my friend’s goat’?”

“Shush!” Cisco held up his finger. “I’ll make it up to her later.” He straightened his shirt. “Even if I have to explain it to Ronnie myself. But for now…”

“Yeah, yeah, go.” Barry brushed him off.

Cisco hadn’t needed any more encouragement than that, and within fifteen minutes he and Kendra had disappeared into another room. It occurred to Barry that maybe his best friend had more game than he’d originally concluded, more game than himself.

After another five minutes, Barry decided he wasn’t going to take any chances. That suspiciously normal-looking cup of punch was not going to make it to his mouth at any point. He noticed a few garbage bags lying in corners around the room but knew it would probably make somewhat of a mess if he dumped a full cup into one. After a little asking around and getting lost a few times, he managed to make it to the kitchen where the hostess of the party, Linda Park, looked to be stirring together a new batch of punch.

“It’s spiked, isn’t it?” he said flatly.

She smiled brilliantly, and he knew his answer.

He walked over to the large sink and dumped his cupful in, then tossed the cup into the nearest trash bag.

“What are you doing?” she asked, mildly scandalized.

“I don’t want to get drunk,” he said, annoyed.

She snorted, amused. “Then why did you come to a party?”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. “I have no idea.”

She laughed. “Okay, look. If you’re not gonna loosen up, maybe you can help us gather some of the empty cups out there so it’s not as big of a hassle to clean everything up once everyone’s out of here.”

He debated that for a moment. “Yeah, I could do that.”

“My hero.”

He shifted a little awkwardly at that, but she was clearly unaffected and handed him a bag.

“Only empty cups, nothing yanked from people’s hands. If anybody says they’re not finished, don’t take it. And if you spot vomit anywhere, let me know and I’ll give you the supplies to clean it up.”

“Great,” he drawled, sarcastically.

Once again, she was unmoved. So, clutching the bag, he set out of the kitchen, trying not to sigh too loudly.

“Iris should be by the windows in the first room,” Linda said from behind him.

 “Iris?” He asked, not giving it much thought.

“My co-hostess,” she explained. “She’s about my height and is wearing a coral top. You can’t miss her.”

He nodded and headed out, muttering the description to himself, so he’d remember.

“Her height, coral top, her height, coral top, her height, coral to-”

And then he saw her, and the breath was stolen from him.

“Iris?” he croaked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?” she asked before turning around, oblivious to his voice or the fact that she’d briefly heard it before – earlier that day in fact. “What is it?”

And then she was frozen to the spot, her mouth hanging open and glad a majority of the people in that room had moved to the pool area.

“You.”

“You.” His eyes widened.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, heat flooding her cheeks as she approached him.

“Cleaning,” he squeaked, his face turning pink very quickly.

She blinked, then looked down at the empty trash bag in his hands and connected the dots.

“Did you know I’d be here?”

“What?! No!” He paused, his voice going deeper. “No.”

Her lips twitched. “You came to a party just to clean?” she teased, pulling the bag free from his hands.

“I…uh, don’t want to get drunk,” he explained, his eyes flickering to hers for just a moment before he tried to figure out what to do with his hands now that there was nothing in them.

“I see.” She smirked.

Setting down the two bags along the wall, she took one of his sweaty hands and pulled him with her.

“Come with me.”

“Where are we going?” he asked, his heart racing a mile a minute in his chest.

“You’ll see.”

“I’m really sorry, by the way,” he said as they stopped by multiple rooms, stopping for her to see if someone was inside and then continuing down the hall when there was.

“For what?” she said, oblivious again – or sounding that way at least.

“For this afternoon,” he said, as if it were obvious.

He tried very, very hard not to squeak his answer. To his credit, it was less squeaky than the previous time.

“I did not know you were gonna be there,” he said adamantly. “Much less that you would be…”

She paused, knocking on the last door at the end of the hall, smiling brilliantly when she looked inside and found it empty.

“Getting myself off?”

He gasped, his mind going blank as she pulled him into the room, closed and locked it behind them and pulled him down for a kiss.

Time stopped.

Anything outside the room no longer mattered.

All that existed for Barry Allen was Iris’ hands on his face and her lips on his as she urged him to kiss her back.

“W-W-Wait,” he said, pulling away just as his lips had started to respond.

“What? You don’t want to?” she asked, grumpily hurt by the rejection.

“No-no-no, of course, I want to,” he hurried to assure her. “It’s just…” He licked his lips. “You’re not mad?”

She laughed. “About this afternoon?”

He nodded timidly.

“No. Why would I be? It’s not like you were stalking me.” She pulled him down to her again and sealed their lips with a kiss. “Were you?” she teasingly whispered.

“No, ma’am,” he murmured into the kiss, and she smiled.

“If you’re feeling guilty, though, I have a solution,” she said, starting to unbutton his shirt as she kissed his neck.

“What’s that?” he asked, his mind dizzy with sensation.

She kissed him a while longer, driving him mad with the feel of her lips on his and their tongues tangling as she pressed her body to his and brought his hands to all the curves she wanted touched after so long.

“You could fuck me,” she said, her tongue swirling around one of his nipples as she finally peeled his shirt off.

“Huh?”

“Fuck me.” She grinned, unbuckling his belt. “Or have you not been imagining it as much as I have all afternoon?”

He could hardly breathe. He should’ve known she was bold, given what she’d been doing where and with what, and he was feeling just as motivated. When Cisco had gone out to hand off the goat to Caitlin, he’d hightailed it to his bedroom and gotten off twice – first to the vision of Iris masturbating and then to the idea of them fucking against the bookcase that miraculously wasn’t knocked over in the process. Things were perfect like that in fantasies.

But for how badly he wanted this, and he did want it, it just felt a little too…fast. And a little like if he gave in to it, he’d never see her again and she’d pretend it had never happened.

“I have.” He swallowed.

“Thought so.”

She stuck her hand in his boxers and squeezed his already semi-hard cock.

“Iris.” He shuddered.

“Bed’s over there.” She urged him backwards, and unable to think clearly once again, he let her for a few steps.

“W-Wait.” He sucked in a breath. “Stop.”

“What is it?” she whined, then laughed, indulging him. “There are condoms in the bedside table, if that’s what you’re worried about. Linda and I stocked up.”

He snorted. “That’s not what…”

“Then what?”

“Aren’t we moving a little too fast?” he asked, holding his breath that she wouldn’t react negatively to the question.

Of course, he was not so lucky.

“How much slower should we be moving for a one-night stand?” she asked, sounding amused but the thread of impatience and irritation was clear in her voice, as much as she tried to stifle it.

He went cold, a chill ripping down his spine, though in the back of his mind he knew he should’ve expected it. Someone as stunning as Iris would probably never give him a second glance when actually considering a serious relationship.

Sometimes he wished he was capable of wanting one-night stands, but they always made him feel guilty. And he always wanted more. Probably why neither of his two girlfriends had lasted very long. His need for an emotional connection was fast and apparent even in the early stages.

“Is that all this is to you?” he asked softly.

Her arms dropped from around his neck, and he knew the mood was broken. He’d killed it.

“Yeah.” She blew hair out of her eyes. “That’s all it was going to be.”

She took a step back, straightened out her outfit and headed for the door.

“Wait, Iris-”

“Too late, book boy. I’m emotionally unavailable.”

And with that, she scoffed, left the room, and left him half-undressed and already heartbroken.

Which was ridiculous, since he hardly knew her.

...

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

#westallen #fanfiction #westallen fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #fics for icons #for iriswestallenhuh #nsfw-ish #sex next chap for sure lol

[lokisgame]

Enchanted Forest [3]

[part 1] [part 2]

A/N this part was hard to get right, and you can thank my beta for patiently listening to me ramble about a story she doesn’t even like. Sorry this took so long, life happened, you know. 

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Mulder pulled on a t-shirt with a pair of sweats and fell into bed, face first, between cold sheets and pillows. Who could have thought that, what felt like winning the lottery a few hours ago, turned into probably the most monumental clusterfuck of his adult life.

As he tied his signature tie, trying to control the giddy grin, he was convinced, that his luck was finally turning around. By some stroke of luck, Scully’s call for affection fell right into his lap, if you pardon the expression. It was karma, divine justice, destiny written in the stars. He practically grew wings on his way to Georgetown, imagining himself fulfilling her every desire, voiced or intuited, saw her naked and satiated, looking at him as if he was the best lover she ever had, the last lover she’d ever want.

Now alarm clock on his nightstand showed 1 am and he was too wired to sleep, too weird out to jerk off, and too sick to eat. Whirling thoughts searched for an outlet, and the best way he knew to direct them, was to go for a run, even if at the moment it seemed like running away from his problems.

Wearing a hoodie over a sweatshirt against the cold, he locked the place and took the stairs down, heading for the park a few blocks south.

The night was cold and humid, wind carrying new weather to D.C.

"Wind of change," he thought morosely.

He could handle misunderstandings, arguments, even awkward silence, but what if this night went beyond anything they went through so far. Thinking what it could mean, what changes he might be facing, almost made him sick with worry.  

It was Scully, he knew perfectly well that she didn't pour milk into her coffee, without thinking about consequences. Of course she would be stunned, once he dropped a bomb on her like that. As revelations go, this was probably the last thing she'd expect, convinced he was a porn-obsessed loner, which wasn't untrue. To be honest, they rarely talked about their love-lives, with his being what it was and hers too scary for him to even contemplate. He had nightmares about calling her place, only to hear a guy pick up the phone, and sometimes, after he woke up from one of those, he'd call her for real, just to make sure she'd pick up, as childish as it might seem.

The escort job gave him release, escape, even some measure of affection, but not connection. To women he met, he was a fantasy, while to him, Scully was a fantasy and reality. He saw her fierce, strong and proud, but also playful, caring and vulnerable, he knew her, he wanted her, with everything that she was.

Now he found himself wanting to move past this night, hoping, she'll forgive him this false start and let things between them stay, as they were.

He circled the park and picked the long way back, breath turning into puffs of vapor in the yellow glow of the streetlights. A block from his place, a cab stopped by the curb and two young women stumble out of it, giggling and more than a little drunk. Mulder veered around them, without breaking the pace, ignoring whistles and laugh echoing after him. He didn't look back, or care for that matter.

He ignored the elevator on his way up to the apartment and leaving the running shoes by the door, he went straight for the bedroom and fell back into bed, where sleep finally took him in.

________________________

Startled out of sleep, gasping, Scully realized, that the wet and warm pressure against her mouth was just a dream. Sensation of tender flesh molding itself to her lips faded quickly, leaving her body deliciously limp. She felt herself wet and without thinking, reached down finished, what the dream only promised, a shudder of pleasure and sweet release, then fell back asleep. It wasn't the first time, it sure wouldn't be the last. That night his eyes were deep green with a hint of gold woven through the iris.

Night brings counsel, as her grandmother used to say.

When Scully woke up the next morning, her rebel streak won and she no longer felt mortified, but grinned, pulling the sheet over her head, laughing at the odds.

Of all the crazy gifts Missy could come up with, and all the men she could choose from that list, she chose the one, she knew for years. The one night she tried to be adventurous, life threw her a curve ball, in form of Mulder, the escort.

It couldn't be about money, if she could afford a reasonably comfortable living. Neither did she ever get the impression, that there was anything in Mulder's life, other than the X-files. Granted, they spent so much time working together, that they rarely felt the need to hang out after hours, but when she visited or called, he usually was home to let her in or pick up the phone. How did he manage to reconcile the unpredictable schedule and the amount of travel with his other... How should she call them, engagements? His other employer had to be very flexible.  

"Oh my God, what am I doing," she said to herself, "picking apart Mulder's erotic schedule."

That train of thought felt a little too personal, no mater how close they were, so she pushed it away and got up, starting on coffee before heading into shower. Checking the answering machine on her way, she found no messages.

Sunday ritual usually filled her with energy, fueled by prospect of a day to herself, doing whatever she wanted, but today her mind kept wandering and wondering.

The man at the agency said, that Mr. Fox came highly recommended, so he had to be working for them long enough to build a reputation, still she never noticed anything suspicious. There were perhaps days when he seemed more relaxed than his usual self; were those the days after? Was that what he got from it, instead of money? And more importantly, why didn't he go about it the way most single men did?

Mulder was quite attractive, even she wasn't blind to it. He would have little to no trouble finding a date if he wanted one, but on the other hand, she knew him well enough to know, that superficial relationships weren't his thing. That's probably what puzzled her most. Why a man who trusted no one chose to offer himself to strangers in such an intimate way.

The water began to grow cold, so throwing her head back, she made quick work of lathering her hair, rinsing it and stepping out of the shower, wrapped up in a towel.

Steam covered the mirror and wiping it, she paused for a second to look at the woman on the other side of the glass.

Even if staying in shape was a job requirement, she didn't feel unattractive, she liked herself, within her limits. She wasn't a willowy, runway beauty, but she had good tits, slim waist and a nice ass. Her usual pantsuits for work were a choice, and not designed to hide anything either. She wasn't there to prove herself as a female, but a professional, and if that required of her to follow dress code, she could live with that. She never tried to hide her femininity, wore skirts and indulged in lace lingerie if she felt like it, but she never stopped to think, how Mulder might feel about her, in those terms.

Even if he was hiding his side job, assuming no one was forcing him to keep it a secret, last night he chose to see her and the implications scared her a little.

She might think he was strictly professional about it, if not for that one last look he gave her, before leaving. The hurt she saw was honest and real. She rejected a man who knew and trusted her, and even if she understood that she wasn't obliged to do anything, their history made the hurt echo inside her. She might have said no to an escort, but she hurt a friend, and the thought was like a bucket of ice water.

She dressed quickly, grabbed some toast and a cup of coffee and took out the file folder from her bag. They still had a flight scheduled for tomorrow morning, and the case should be above their private mess. Camping out on the sofa, with a blanket against the cold over her lap, Scully tried to focus on work, and it worked, until her thoughts wandered off again.

She couldn't say yes, just like that. She couldn't just sleep with him, pretend he was a stranger. It was Mulder. What if it was lousy? What if it was good? What if it was fantastic? That made her lips twitch up a little. To be fair, she couldn't rule out any possibility. In any case, things would inevitably and irreversibly change. Heck, even the fact that she knew about the job, changed things. She always thought, Mulder was his work, now, he had a life she knew nothing about, and she had questions. Who was real, Mulder or Fox, for example.

Stirring feelings made her restless, pacing the room from the couch to window, so she made herself stop and peer outside, just to break the cycle. She heard wind howling between bare branches, bending them almost mercilessly, yet unable not break them. The trees yielded, strong in knowledge that once the wind passed, they would most likely still be there.

Guided by instinct, Scully opened the window and took a deep breath, accepting the cold, damp wisdom of nature. This was Mulder and before she decided anything, he deserved at least a chance to explain himself. After all, she wasn't a stranger to him, either.

#enchanted forest #msr fanfic #x files fanfic #a little more angsty

[nerdie-faerie]

The Scars of the Pandorica - Prologue.

Another day of school, another day of being human. The whole process fascinated her. An institution specifically designed for training the future generations. Incredible.

She was about to tug her school shirt over shoulders, eager for another day of learning, when something caught her eye in the mirror. Her arms went limp at her sides as she crept towards the mirror, her shirt trailing from her arms.

There on her shoulder was a perfectly healed silvery scar that reminded her of a cracked wall. Her finger trailed the mark curiously. She yelped and wrenched her hand back as she looked at her now pink flesh. It'd burnt her.

"Sarah-Jane!" She called through the house, her voice sounding panicked to her own ears. New experiences usually excited her, but for some reason she was filled with dread.

The woman in question stepped through the door looking flustered at the sudden summon.

"What is it, Sky?"

"Look!" She pointed sharply at the sudden addition to her shoulder.

"It's a scar. Where did you get that?" Her hand immediately outstretched as if hypnotised.

"No, don-" It was too late.

Sarah-Jane hissed as the scar burnt her too.

"What is it?" Sky asked in a trembling voice.

"I don't know."

-=-=-=-

She woke to find the rising sun shining directly into her eyes and with crick in her neck. Looks like she'd fallen asleep at her desk again without closing any blinds. She sighs, but reluctantly pulls herself up, her joints cracking as she does so. Her eyes flicker over the pictures of her and husband as she stands, unwilling to linger but unable to let go.

By the time she's walked to the bathroom the ache in her neck is gone, she supposed there were some advantages to her improved healing. She ruffles her golden locks with a yawn and sets about brushing her teeth.

As she lifts her head she notices something peaking out of the strap of her vest. Her eyebrows furrow as she pushed the strap out of the way and brushes her hair over her shoulder to take a closer look. But even after two centuries her enhanced eye sight has not diminished and she should know better than to question herself by now. But there it is. A scar etched into her right shoulder, puckered and pale but by no means new. And she knows for a fact it wasn't there last night. Two fingers trace the edge of the scar, as thoughts whirl through her brain. What was it? Why hadn't it healed? Where had it come from? Her train of thought is cut abruptly off when her fingers come away burnt.

She stares down at the reddened skin and then back to the reflection of the scar.

"What the hell are you?"

The scar stares back but provides no answers.

-=-=-=-

The six year old stared resolutely at his drawing determined to make it perfect, he had his mother's stubbornness and his father's need to prove people wrong. The navy blue made grand sweeping strokes across the paper as his left hand came up to scratch at his shoulder. He whimpered as the pain persisted.

He dropped his pencil as he continued to rub at his shoulder. He could hear his father working on the car from the garage and his mother pottering around preparing lunch in the kitchen.

"Mummy!"

"What is it, Malcom sweetie?" She strolled into the living room, her walk unhurried but her eyes darting around trying to find the cause of his distress.

"My shoulder hurts." He pouts.

She smiles kindly.

"Let me see. Which one is it?"

He points at the offended shoulder as she crouches down to take a look. She rolls up his t-shirt sleeve to see a thin scar about two inches long nestled against the crook of his shoulder. Her expression immediately betrays her concern years of medical training suddenly winning out. She presses a finger gently against the skin but is shocked when it burns her.

Malcom looks between his mother and his shoulder worried. She smiles reassuringly at him.

"Wait here a second."

She walks into the kitchen and opens the back door.

"Mickey!"

The man jogs into the kitchen moments later a sense of urgency in his step and streaks of motor oil streaking his face.

"What's wrong babe?" He asks cleaning his hands in a rag.

She whispers to him, far too quietly for Malcom to hear, but they're eyes flicker to him occasionally. Once she quiets his dad steps towards him to look at his son's shoulder for himself. He sighs and rubs at his brow, streaking more oil across his face.

"Where's the Doctor when you need him?"

-=-=-=-

Astrid Peth could think of far more glamorous jobs than pulling pints in a grimy pub, but it put food on the table even if it wasn't much.

She pulled off her apron and signalled to her boss to let him know she was taking her break, he nodded in affirmation and she slipped into the back room. She splashed cold water on her face in an attempt to wash away the feel of lingering eyes, as usual it did nothing. Sighing she grabbed one of the rough paper towel provided and started to dry her hands when she noticed in the cracked and rusted mirror that the water had soaked into part of her thin white shirt.

Sighing once more she began to dab at the fabric but pulled away when it felt far too warm. Confusion etched into her face she pulled down the collar of her shirt to see an unfamiliar scar carved into the flesh there. She felt panic spike through at the perfectly healed mark that hadn't been there this morning. She gulped as a wave of foreboding crashed into her. Something was very, very wrong.

-=-=-=-

Doctor Owen Harper questions his life choices on the regular. Among those where the decision to wrack up an enormous student debt for the sake of becoming a doctor. Things he doesn't regret, include the blonde he took home last night when drunk off his ass, that now lays slumbering in his bed.

He pads into the kitchen to make breakfast. The bacon was sizzling in the pan when he turns to the fridge to grab some eggs. He almost ignores the reflection of his nude body in the fridge's shiny surface, the littering of love bites was nothing new but the pale scar that decorated his right shoulder was.

Years of medical training flew out the window as he poked at the offending area in shock. The burn he received came as an additional shock.

"What the fuck did I do last night?" Be muttered to himself in the empty kitchen, suddenly questioning his bed partner.

-=-=-=-

A run always did wonders for her mood first thing in the morning, it helped set the tone for the whole day or some philosophical shit like that. But she'd promised her sister they'd go see a movie today and she was nowhere near ready in her current state. Determined to be on time for once, she hopped into the shower letting the slewth of cool water calm her frantic heart from a good day's running.

Towel clad, she stepped back into her room moments later to get dressed. Jeans, underwear and a tank top later and she was ready. As she pulled down her tank top however, her figures grazed against her shoulder causing her to yelp in pain.

"What the...." She rushed to her bathroom and cleared the fogged up glass trying to see the cause of her pain.

She prodded blindly at her slowly warming skin and when she jabbed at the raised, jagged skin it burned. Looking away from the blurry image left in the mirror she looked down at her shoulder and felt her stomach drop.

"Tessa what's taking you so long?" Her sister grumbled as she stepped into the room.

She turned away from the mirror slowly, her face pale and drawn. Whatever complaint her sister had prepared fizzled out as she took her expression in.

"What is it?"

She pushed her tank top strap completely out of the way so it was no longer blocking her view.

"Is this a joke?"

"It burns Gabbie." She turned back to the mirror. "But..... But it looks just like...." She trailed off but it didn't need saying, not really.

Her sister looked panicked and resigned but she took the words that hung between them and said them anyway.

"My tattoo." She took a deep breath, as if in preparation, her next words were barely a croak. "It looks like my tattoo."

A/N: I hope you know I hate you for this @michelangelo-the-metamorphmagus . I do not need more WIPs. Anyway this was inspired by a lil conversation on tumblr with Michael and if I have to suffer so do you guys. Sky is Sarah-Jane's adopted alien daughter from the Sarah-Jane adventures. And Owen is from the Torchwood spin off.

Also I'm probably gonna draw inspiration for my OCs from people in the hp rp community so if that makes you uncomfortable let me know.

#i can't add a read more because i'm on mobile but it's done its there #i'm just gonna go hide now #i wrote this on the bus so it's rushed and badly written but i just wanted to get it down before i lost it #not rp #ooc #ace writes sometimes #pandorica scars #sotp: prologue #buddy beans #michaelangelo the metamorphmagus #Fanfiction #Dw #Doctor Who #Doctor Who Fanfiction #Torchwood #Sarah-Jane Adventures #Torchwood fanfiction #Sarah-Jane adventures fanfiction #Martha Jones #Mickey Smith #Rose Tyler #Sarah-Jane Smith #Sky Smith #Owen Harper #Astrid Peth #Metacrisis Doctor #Eleventh Doctor #OCs #The Pandorica Opens #Bad Wolf

[ghost-chance]

A New Lease on Life 2: Death Was Only the Beginning

A quick note regarding dialogue and odd words: Symbols at the end of a word or statement mark vocabulary terms or references defined at the end. If a word is followed by a dash or ellipses, it's translated or defined at the end of the chapter. I try to define most of the stuff that's really odd, heavily altered due to pronunciation, and local slang that non-local readers might not pick up. If you see a - or ~ at the end of a SENTENCE, it means the sentence or paragraph has been 'explained' in the same way; this will become necessary once Amber starts letting her oddities (and going through crisis-induced 'relapse' speech which is heavily brogued) but the relapses aren't really a frequent occurrence until the end of Part I.

This chapter dedicated to Volunteers. You put your life on hold to bring life to others, all without any thought of compensation. My old community is one of countless forever changed by volunteers, from search and rescue to donations to rebuilding. Thank you…our debt to you can never be repaid enough. Also dedicated to the real-life inspiration for 'Aaron,' whom I owe my very life to.

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS! Including but not limited to Tornadoes, Severe weather, Town destroyed by tornadoes and severe weather, shock, graphic imagery, corpses, violent death, mentions of religion.

Suggested Listening: Linkin Park "Iridescent"          

2: Death Was Only the Beginning                  

             Willsdale, Missouri, Sunday May 8th, 2011          

The sound of violent retching woke Amber with a start; sometime during the night she'd apparently fallen off the sofa and now lay sprawled on the carpet in a pile. As sleepy disorientation faded into exhausted annoyance, she glanced off to her right. Sure enough, the bathroom door hung wide open spilling bright light out into the cramped hallway. "Good thing ya got short hair, Willis," she muttered, crawling back on the lumpy sofa. "I ain't gotta feel guilty 'bout not holdin' it back for ya."

"Fuck you, O'Brien—" her friend's guttural retort was interrupted by another round of heaving.

"I told ya that whisky'd kill ya," she reminded matter-of-factly as she swiped a long brown braid back over her shoulder. "Yer usual beer's water compared to Scotch whisky; smells like goat piss, too." Clutching her stiff back, she stumbled off the sofa and limped into the tiny kitchen seeking coffee. A note tacked to the fridge told her their host had already headed to work, and the bitter perfume of coffee filled the dog-scented air. As she dug through the cabinet for a mug a tiny, half-blind and completely neurotic black and tan Chihuahua danced at the back door, growling and barking at her. "Quiet, Nina—Uncle Aaron's hungover." Not surprisingly the dog simply snapped and growled again, then scattered when Amber came to open the back door.

"Let the damn thing out!" Aaron groaned into the toilet. "My head's KILLING ME!"

"Again, not my fault - I tried'a warn ya." Since Nina wouldn't willingly come within several yards of anyone but Ma Willis, Amber propped the back door open and returned to the coffee maker, grinning when the neurotic dog rocketed out the back door like the vet was on her heels. The door shut and her mug set up, she took a cup of water and a bottle of Mtn Dew in for Aaron. "Why on Earth your cousin thought gettin' you drunk was a GOOD idea, I'll never know."

"Oh, come'ere you sweet, beautiful bitch!" Aaron rasped; knowing he didn't mean her, Amber shoved the soda at him and left, laughing under her breath. Some things never changed, and his Mtn Dew addiction was among those things. So too, she contemplated with a crooked grin, was the way the three best friends got along by harassing one another.

The Terrible Trio started with Amber O'Brien, only daughter of a Scottish immigrant and completely unable to fit in with the locals even after she took on their twang. It quickly became a duo with the inclusion of Mercy Ross, a bristly beauty with an affinity for cows and a horrible homelife. Then in High School the two odd friends met Aaron Willis - a son of a local and the very definition of a Country Bumpkin. Years went by and the three friends only grew closer, grew more obnoxious toward one another, and grew into a fixture in town. Even after Aaron's family left Willsdale for nearby Glenville after Graduation, they still kept close contact until he moved into a double-wide trailer near Amber's home.

Supposedly Aaron Willis was completely disinterested in love, sex, and the like - he'd never shown any interest in anyone and spent years oblivious to Amber's puppy love crush on him - but deep in her heart Amber was sure he'd never be attracted to her even if he weren't apparently asexual. That ship, after all, had long sailed...she wasn't the sort to pine after someone who couldn't return her feelings and it became clear in time that they would have been horribly suited. Still, even if romance was an option, Amber was sure she wasn't Aaron's 'type' - she was plain, barely 5'3, and morbidly overweight. Her brown hair started going grey in her teen years—supposedly a hereditary thing—and she couldn't walk a straight line if she was paid to. Love had never been in the cards for her, and ever since she was hit by a van during college, neither had meaningful work.

'God almighty, quitcher whinin' O'Brine!'- she reminded herself fiercely. 'I'm alive, I'm not dyin' in an RCF, I've gotta roof over my head, food in my cabinets, an' two kickarse friends. Things could be so much worse than monthly booty calls, sexual frustration, an' an end-table ass.' Mid-rant Aaron collapsed at the rickety wooden table, burying his head in his arms.

"Please tell me Ma left donuts," he mumbled.

"Nope, just pizza," she grinned, poking his springy blond curls. "Your favorite…but it's got pickles on it."

"Sacrilege!" he spat rushing to the fridge. "She didn't—she wouldn't!" A moment later he slanted a suspicious glare at her over the rims of his glasses, his off-kilter blue eyes narrowed. "Quit pickin' on the hungover person. Pickles on pizza…you need yer head checked."

"We a'ready know that, Sugar," she grinned, snagging an éclair from the box. "Thanks for the YouTube footage, by the way: 'Drunkard milks bull,' sure to be a hit."

"I WHAT?!" he squawked. "Oh, HELL NAW! You post that an' I'll piss in your garden! On your roses!" The two friends bickered good-naturedly for the rest of the morning, never realizing that their world had changed forever.

Hours later Amber's beat up Red Civic pulled up to an empty driveway…a driveway with no standing building behind it.

Once Aaron's hangover had abated they'd returned to Willsdale, blasting Quiet Riot and Black Sabbath the whole way. As they crept over the city limits, though, the now silent car deafened the occupants stunned by their surroundings. It wasn't quite sinking in…how could so much have happened in one weekend?

The once-bustling small town was nearly gone, and what was left in its place could only be described as a war zone. Vacant cars lay crumpled along the road between downed utility poles. Fallen, splintered trees littered the landscape. There was debris everywhere—hanging in trees, pinned under fallen structures, blowing along the ground—Amber never even noticed tears streaming from her eyes or murmured reassurances from Aaron. Every structure they passed was demolished, every landmark they knew was erased. The power station, the cemetery, the house always surrounded by suicidal free-range guinea hens...all that remained was rubble-strewn dirt and asphalt. She knew what she'd find there, and she hated to see it, but before she knew it, she'd pulled into her own driveway.

Her house, the tiny shotgun shack she'd lived in for years, was reduced to a pile of timber and siding, her struggling garden buried under a ton of shattered brick and shingle.

"Amber," Aaron called repeatedly as she wandered from her car to what was once the front step. "Amber, wait!" She shook her head deliriously as she dug frantically through the debris pile over the porch; in her shock-addled mind, all she could think of was getting inside and curling up on the sagging plaid couch. It never even registered that not only was the sofa probably ruined, the house itself was no longer standing. Cursing, Aaron scrambled over fallen timber and fractured supports to tear Amber away from the ruins.

"No!" she cried frantically, fighting to get free. "It's my home! I've gotta—"

"AMBER!" he shouted, framing her face in callused hands. "Amber, it's gone! You're gonna hurt yourself if you keep this up!" Memories flashed before her eyes, blocking out the familiar blue eyes staring into her own. Without warning, dry, chapped lips met hers fiercely as strong arms held her like she was about to be ripped out of them. When he finally let go, she buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing brokenly as they slid to the sodden ground. As if mocking them, the clouds broke open anew; thunder rolled, lightning flashed, and torrents of rain mingled with hopeless tears.

             Sunday, May 15th, 2011          

Over a week later, Amber and Aaron were still sheltered at City Hall with countless other refugees. Neither had a home to go to, now, and Aaron wasn't able to get word out to his mother with the phone lines and cell towers down. Though he didn't understand, Amber wouldn't contact her family - her mother and father, or even the cherished and gruff grandparent she affectionately called "Gran'Da," insisting it was pointless. With every tearful story and gut-wrenching news report on the radio, the truth became clearer. The night after they drove up to visit his mother an EF 5 tornado spawned outside of town. By the time it fizzled out, it had destroyed much of the town, many of the outlying farms and homes, and left hundreds dead or homeless. Amber's home was gone, Aaron's home was gone, and no one could get ahold of Mercy Ross; Aaron worried what this might mean, and heaved a weary sigh.

Search and rescue teams descended on the ruined town with a vengeance early on, working their way through it with military precision. Everywhere, codes had been spray painted on crumbled structures and vehicles. How many survivors, how many dead, what hazards were present…just overnight, Amber's life had become an endless parade of neon x's, scribbled codes, and body bags, interspersed with canned soup and crying children. Every hour of every day it rained more and more, and Amber sat in a quiet corner staring blankly at the wall.

Aaron Willis watched her forlornly as he helped hand out bottled water. She'd been afraid of storms longer than he'd known her and he was used to witnessing anxiety attacks over the smallest rainstorm. Now, though, now she seemed almost empty and never spoke. Something was dreadfully wrong with his friend, but he had no idea what he could do. It was heart-rending to see her so dull and lifeless. Worst of all, he'd kissed her—finally given in to his years-old hidden crush and kissed her—but for whatever reason, she didn't realize the significance. She probably thought he was just trying to comfort her, he reasoned darkly, absent-mindedly crushing an empty bottle into nothing. Frustrated and helpless, he threw himself into making himself useful in any way he could and making call after call that never went through. When the rain finally let up that afternoon, unbeknownst to the rest, Amber left her corner and slipped away.

At first, she just wandered aimlessly, hopelessly lost in the town she'd spent her whole life in but following some lure only she saw. Everything was changed, everything was gone, but she felt nothing at all. Surely she should be feeling something, she thought blandly as she walked past a bloodstained, crumpled truck wrapped around a tree. Surely the horrors around her and the circling vultures should be jarring at the very least.

A battered wooden sign came into view as she crested the hill. Though most of the letters had been stripped off by rain and grit and the building behind was half-toppled, she knew without a doubt where she was. After all, she spent the last several years scrubbing the school from top to bottom every weeknight; she'd know it with her eyes closed. She drifted through the shattered glass doors in a daze, scanning the trashed hallways without notice. Her feet led her to the library and a familiar shelf she'd spent her teen years reading top to bottom. Debris was brushed aside halfheartedly until she found her target.

Dark of the Moon. It was a poetry volume long out of print and rarely found outside of libraries, and while she was a student, the book spent more time in her backpack than on its shelf. Such a shame for such a wondrous book to be lost forever, she thought hollowly as she gently leafed through now fragile pages.

Movement out the window caught her eye; thunder rolled, clouds menaced and a jagged grey tear loomed overhead. Off to the southwest was the monster she'd feared most of her life, and it was heading her way. The numb woman watched the horizon in disinterest, uncaring of the strange disembodied ticking sound or the sudden feeling of calm that washed over her. Rain pelted the cracked glass windows and wind howled, kicking up clouds of debris from the already battered landscape. A deafening, grinding roar like a fork in a disposal shattered the air as the tornado drew nearer. Amber stared it down never flinching as her ears ached from the pressure.

Perhaps...perhaps this was her only choice - the only way she'd ever find peace. If she was in her right mind, she would be horrified by the thought...but she wasn't in her right mind at all. That foul monster stole her home, stole her town, stole her very life, but there was one thing it would never steal…

Heedless of the broken glass underfoot she dropped to her scarred, aching knees. Head bowed, she prayed—prayed for the safety of her friends and family, prayed for the souls of those touched by the tornadoes' destruction, and prayed for peace in the afterlife. The window exploded inward and shattered glass rained over her head but her only regret was that she'd never found a love worth living for.

A bedraggled team searched the school for survivors. "HEY!" shouted the tall black man as he clambered toward the woman kneeling before the shattered windows. He checked Amber's neck but recoiled at the bloody wound at her forehead; the body was long grown stiff and she had no pulse. "Why on earth did you come here?" he wondered aloud. "Why didn't you seek shelter?"

A block of cloudy green glass lay nearby, the corner stained with blood - a glass brick. Her cold corpse told a vile story of a woman in shock who was taken by surprise and died from head injury, and showed plainly what happened when humans pitted themselves against nature. At least, the man considered with a grimace, it was likely quick - she died on her knees, possibly praying for her life, but at least she didn't suffer.

His brown-haired companion noticed the book cradled in her arms and wrenched it free, wincing at the way the body fell to the floor from the motion. The book's title wasn't ringing any bells. "It's a shame," the first-responder remarked as they eased the stiff body into a black bag and zipped it closed. Someone would come by later on and cart her to the morgue with the storms' other casualties for identification. "This book clearly meant something to her, though - she thought it was worth dying for. It'd be a pity to leave it behind when the building will just wind up razed." Moments later the team had moved on, a neon orange code on the tiles of the front entryway Amber's only memorial.

             A vast, dark place somewhere beyond Time

            'Wha…where am I?' Amber thought distractedly as she scanned her surroundings. The last thing she remembered was a book…what book? Oh, right; Dark of the Moon, that poetry anthology that she'd coveted for years. Why did she covet it, though? Was it not hers? No matter how she tried, the details of her life were slipping away like grains of sand through her fingers.  

   She existed in a vast expanse of bleak, black nothingness, her only company the incessant ticking of a legion of unseen clocks. How did she get here? She couldn't recall—everything was a blur! Confused, she wracked her brain for answers that continued to evade her. In a deeply engrained stress habit, she reached to pull one of her twin braids over her shoulder, intent on tugging at the loose tuft at the end.  

   Nothing happened. Though she knew she'd moved and her brain had sent the proper signals, she had no braids—no hands—no body! 'What's happened to me?!' she thought frantically. 'Did I…no, it can't be…I didn't…die…?' She trailed off, her uncertainty solidifying into begrudging realization. 'I'm dead. I'm farkin' dead. Well, this sucks. But if I'm dead, why'm I so alone? This place is dead even for the Afterlife. Unless…' Not for the first time, she wondered if her beliefs hadn't been rightly placed. If there was no God, no Heaven or Hell, then where was she? Of course, she reasoned, if that was true, why was she even conscious that she existed? Without a body of her own, how could she exist?

Unbidden, familiar words filled her memory in between ticks and tocks.

This is the vestibule to Hell, where those who would make no choices in life are condemned. Neither warm nor cold, believers nor blasphemers—you see them in the hills. They chase a banner they will never catch.

'Of course,' she realized bitterly. 'Inferno—Niven and Pournelle's take on Dante's Divine Comedy. I read that danged book to tatters, an' it never e'en occurred to me. I must be in the vestibule in a lil' bronze jar. Great….at least my fat arse finally fits in a 'one size fits all' container.'* But if I'm in a jar, that means I can get out!' Focusing with all her strength, she repeated the phrase that had been Allen Carpenter's saving grace. 'Fer the love'a God, get me out'a here!'  

   If she hadn't been stuck in a little bronze jar in Hell, she'd have heard crickets; instead, she only heard the maddening ticking sounds. Amber winced, going over the phrase again in case she'd misspoken; maybe her would-be rescuer had passed her by over rudeness? 'Um…please?'  

   Her tiny empty world was sucked into oblivion as she hoped against hope that she wouldn't wake up at the feet of Benito Mussolini.** 

Translations

- "Quitcher whinin' O'Brine!" - 'Quit your whining, O'Brien!'

Up next: "One Life Ends, Another Begins"

                     Notes:        

*Amber calling herself fat is a self-defense mechanism—an unhealthy one. It's always much easier to call yourself fat and insult your own behind, for example, than to hear someone say the same thing about you. Remember, real beauty isn't dependent on your waist, your hips, your butt, or any other impermanent BS like that.

**Waking up at the feet of Benito Mussolini. This is a reference to Niven and Pournelle's book Inferno. When Carpenter found himself out of his little brass bottle, he woke up at Benito's feet staring at his own navel, convinced it was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. You really should read the book regardless of that scene—it's a hoot!

#TMNT #teenage mutant ninja turtles #Ninja Turtles #Donatello #Raphael #Leonardo #Michelangelo #Donnie/OC #Raph/OC #Leo/OC #Mikey/OC #Romantic Drama #Non-Sue OCs #A New Lease on Life #ANLoL #Here be plot twists

[ohnopuddin]

from the dining table; bucky barnes

based of the song “from the dining table” by harry styles

warnings: cheating, liqour, feelings, lots of language, angst, iM soRRY

The night wasn’t supposed to go this way. You had come back from a mission early, elated to surprise your loving boyfriend. Seems more like you were the one surprised instead. As you trudged up the stairs to your shared apartment, it was startling to find two people standing in front of the cheaply made door.

It didn’t take long to realize who one of them was, tall with a dark haired man bun. Your Bucky. What you didn’t know, was who the other person was. Or why the pair of them were standing so close.

You swiftly hid behind the wall concealing the stairway and listened closely. You could feel your head pound to the rhythm of your heart and the tips of your fingers tapped together in anxiousness.

“I really had a great time, Buck.” The woman had obviously spoken, using the nickname reserved for his closest friends and you.

“Me too, doll.” Your heart twindged at the adorning name but you couldn’t find it in you to reveal yourself.

“Maybe next time, we can end it at my place?” She spoke suggestively and you could hear it followed by Bucky’s chuckled.

“I’d like that,” You peeked your head around the corner and took in the sight before your eyes. Her long arms around his neck and nails in this hair, her lips planted firmly on his. His arms snaked around her hourglass figure as he lifted her off the ground and reached for the door knob.

You felt physically ill. With your stomached tied into several knots and your knees feeling weak, you turned on your heel and slowly walked down the stairs leaning on the wall for support.

Of course it had to rain this night of all. The cold splatters soaked you to the core as you stepped out into the night. The rising bile in your throat made an appearance as you ran to the bushes and dry heaved seemingly forever.

You chest hurt and it felt like someone was stabbing into you repeatedly, all the while rubbing salt in the wounds. You stumbled to a standing positions and began walking toward the hotel a block from your- his apartment.

The receptionist had noticed your distraught look, recognizing it as heartbreak; something no one was immune to. She took pity on your defeated form and gave you a room on the top floor, far from anyone. With a muted thanks and a slow sluggish walk you willed yourself to the elevator to the 14th floor.

The room was nice, with a crystal chandelier and a mini fridge, any other time you would have been elated but now you just wanted to cry. You stood in front of the closed mahogany door and the tears you managed to keep in spilled from your bloodshot eyes. Sliding down the door, and shook violently as you screamed out in frustration.

How could he do that to you? How could he find another woman within the weeks time you were gone. Thats when it hit you, it was going on much longer than that. All the late night gym trips and sudden disappearances had added up. How did you not see it before? How had you been so stupid? So blind to what was right in front of you?

The pristine white of the bed mocked you, the purity of the sheets mocked you. You had given Bucky everything you had, and he tainted it all without you noticing. Your pure view on him was ruined, ripped apart and stomped on until there was nothing left with dust, painful dust. Sorta like your heart.

You shakily stood and stripped the soaked clothes from your body and dragged yourself to the shower. The water burned your skin and left you raw and red, but you secretly hoped it would wash your pain away. You stayed in there until you felt so tired you were worried you may collapse in the shower.

The bed was cool against your hot and raw skin and soothed the scars of your heart. Your eyes stared at the white ceiling and the tears leaked out of the sides of your eyes. Sleep engulfed you like the darkness your heart now felt.

Woke up alone in this hotel room

Played with myself, where were you?

The sun shone through the opened curtains and you winced, the pounding sensation in your head making you feel delirious.

The unfamiliar room was puzzling to you until the events of last night rushed to your mind. The pain reinstated itself into your chest and you pulled a shaky breath, unable to cry anymore.

The digital clock next to the bed read 10:47 and the lump in your throat grew as you thought of Bucky. His mystery woman was probably making them breakfast, or was leaving to go home. Thoughts ran through your head at a rapid pace and you stopped yourself.

You didn’t deserve to feel this pain.

You threw the mini fridge open and found they had no alcohol stored, but when you walked to the door to run to the bar downstairs, you found a bottle of bourbon at your feet.

A small note was attached and you bent over to inspect it. “Heartbreak’s a bitch, but bourbon isn’t” You realized it must have been from the receptionist and faintly smiled as you picked the glass bottle up.

It was half gone by twelve.

Fell back to sleep,

I got drunk by noon.

I never felt less cool.

It was another day before you gathered the courage to go home. To him.

Standing in front of the cheap and poorly painted door of your apartment, it almost seemed unreal. Walking into what was once a home filled with blissful memories, it was hard to believe there was something sinister behind closed doors.

You cautiously treaded on the wooden floor, not wanting encounter anyone. Much to your dismay, Bucky was sitting on the couch and heard you come in.

“Doll?” He grinned widely, rushing towards you to engulf you in a hug. You stood in the embrace, not moving to hold him too. He took notice and pulled back with a concerned look. “You okay?”

You pulled a sad smile and nodded, “Just tired” The lied passed straight through yor teeth so effortlessly you wondered why you explode on him.

The rest of the day had been filled with silence, besides Bucky’s attempts at starting a conversation. He tried to understand that you were tired, but his frustration was obvious.

we haven’t spoke since you went away

the comfortable silence is so overrated

why won’t you ever say what you want to say?

“Doll, you gotta talk to me. I haven’t had anything to do since you left.” He whined and pouted his bottom lip at you. It was so cute you almost forgave his sins right there.

You scoffed and mumbled under your breath, “But you had someone to do.” You dipped a tea bag into some boiled water and tried to avert your attention.

Bucky furrowed his thick eyebrows, “What was that, love?”

You set the mug aside to sit and rolled your eyes in annoyance. “Nothing, James.” That had caught him off guard, you never called him James.

Why won’t you ever say what you want to say?” He groaned and leaned against the white countertop.

Something in his tone had ticked a nerve, and that’s the exactly moment things went from bad, to hell.

“You wanna know what I have to say?” You snapped, turning around and facing him, anger etched into your features. He gave you a look that urged you to continue, so you did.

“What did you really do while I was gone, hm?”

His stomach dropped for a split second before he regained himself and tried to reason that you had no idea. “Whaddya mean, doll?”

“Oh shut the fuck up James.” The anger and betrayal leaked through your voice and he knew everything was going to change.

“Excuse me?” He tried, feigning confusion to her outburst.

“So who is she, Buck?” You glared into his blue eyes and saw fear flash through them. “An agent? A civilian? Some random whore?” You spat and began to walk away.

“The hell are you talking about, (Y/N)”

“Jesus Christ James! Just stop lying already. I fucking know you’ve been sleeping with someone else.”

The pain that pulsed through your heart showed in your eyes, because Bucky took a step back and felt a knot form in his throat.

“I came home two days ago, and saw you and the skank outside of our door.” You whispered and ran a shaky hand through your hair.

His blue eyes got glassy and he was at a loss for words. For the first time, James Barnes didn’t know what to say to woman. “Doll-”

“STOP CALLING ME THAT DAMNIT!” You screamed slamming your palms on the counter.

“THEN WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY?” He yelled back, fat tears starting to roll down his scruffy cheeks.

“NOTHING! IT MAKES IT WAY EASIER TO HATE YOU THAT WAY.” You screamed and blinked rapidly to push the oncoming tears back

“Oh so you’re gonna hate me now? After one lousy mistake?”

He was trying to play the victim. To flip the whole situation like it was your fault he cheated. “Oh stop being such a fucking prick. I know it was more than once.” You turned around and placed your palms on the counter that was previously behind you. “All the nights out. The early morning disappearances. It all makes sense now.” You gritted out through your teeth as the tear spilled over your clenched eyelids.

“Well it wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t such a shit girlfriend. You were never good enough!” He seemed to realize the venomous words that slipped off his tongue and immediately wished he could take them back.

It happened so fast he barely had time to react. The mug filled with hot tea flew passed his head and shattered against the wall as glass flew to every inch of the room. “Maybe everyone was right,” You spoke fiercely before shrinking to a whisper. “I’m not good enough. But at least i’m not a monster like you.”

He had never felt pain like he had in that moment. His stomach knotted so tightly he feared he was going to puke all over. His temples pounded to the beat of his heart and his world spun around him. How had he done this to you, he wondered. To the one person who had ever accepted him after everything he did, and forgave every thing he had done in the past. How had he tainted the one pure thing left in his life? How had he taken every inch of your big heart only to vandalize it with infidelity and hateful words? He hated himself, he hated what he did to you. And he would never forgive himself.

As you rolled your packed luggage to the door, tears soaking your pink cheeks, you paused. Bucky sat crumpled to his knees, his head buried in his hand and he cried roughly. Your heart lurched at the defeated sight, and had it not been for the cab already waiting downstairs, you would have stayed. His crystal blue eyes traced your features, trying to memorize every detail before you walked out of his life forever.

“I hope she was worth it, James.” You whispered before walking out the cheaply painted door, wishing never to see his face again.

Your last words haunted his sleep for years. He had never regretted anything so deeply and sincerely.

On what would have been your 6th anniversary, had he not ruined everything, he picked up his phone and typed in the number that was forever chiseled into his brain. Pressing send, he let out a shaky breath and waited.

“I’m sorry.”

He waited and waited for the familiar ding of his phone. But it never came. He would have to wait until death to be relieved from the weight on his shoulders. And he did.

Maybe one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry, too. But you, you never do.

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #marvel imagine #marvel angst #james bucky barnes #James Buchanan Barnes #angst #bucky angst #harry styles #harry styles album #from the dining table #two ghosts #kiwi #avengers angst #steve rogers #bucky cheating #avengers imagine #IM HONESTLY SO SORRY FOR THIS

[vin-taege]

Can I Move In?

Summary: Life has already been shitty for you, but it all becomes worse when a lonely, snarky ghost boy decides to follow you home one night. Or does it?

Genre: Fluff, ghost! Yoongi au

Words: 3k

The alcohol you consumed during the Halloween party was still making you feel a bit warm. You would’ve carpooled with your friend on the way home, but she got shit-faced ten minutes into the party. So here you were, walking alone past midnight in the cold, lamp-lit streets. The dark never really bothered you. It was actually pretty beautiful and calming. What wasn’t calming was the cold atmosphere you couldn’t wait to get away from. The dress you were wearing didn’t help, seeing that it ended above the knee and was sleeveless. The sheer fabric of your coat was no match against the icy breeze too. But then you start to realize, there was no breeze.

It was really cold, but you were sure it wasn’t the wind. You didn’t feel anything blowing against you, and the trees were still, too. Getting a bit weirded out, you walked faster, your house soon coming into view. You sighed in relief; finally, some warmth and a hot bath for your aching feet. It was three more streetlamps down the road, and you would’ve walked slower to cherish the evening, but then the lamps started flickering. It started out slow, then sped up, making you make a run for it. Just as you were halfway in the house, you heard a loud pop.

‘What the hell,’ you thought. ‘Even if I was drunk, that shit was still creepy.’

Maybe the bulbs were just about die. Yes, that’s it. Who knows when they were last replaced? You certainly haven’t seen any electrician go out and maintain the streetlights, so that explains it. Even with the perfectly logical explanation, you were still freaked out. A hot bath could calm your nerves.

So what if it was three in the morning, the infamous ‘witching hour’? So what if the streetlights suddenly acted crazy? You were tired from all the dancing and being social, and you were getting the bath you deserved. You ran the water, waiting for the tub to fill. 

Thunk, thunk

Unmistakably, those were heavy footsteps. Now, you were really nervous. There was no way it was another stray cat that wandered in. The steps were too lous for that. Whatever was making that noise was no doubt human. You looked around the bathroom, frantically looking for a weapon in case an intruder got in. You spotted a shampoo bottle, knowing very well that it wasn’t tear-free just like what the label suggested. That could momentarily blind someone and give you enough time to call for help. 

Thunk, thunk

It was closer this time, probably even outside the bathroom door. ‘Okay, there is no way I’m going down like this.’ You reached for the knob and threw the door open. “Aha!” you shrieked, squeezing the bottle into nothing. No one was there. “What, where- I’m drunk. I am very drunk, and smelly, and the only thing that’s gonna make this night better is my hot bath.” you said allowed, trying to calm yourself.

Maybe it was just your imagination. A thought of you slowly going insane presented itself, but you waved it off. You already have your rent and your low paycheck to worry about, and adding more problems would just cause a mental breakdown. The warm water against your skin was preventing said breakdown. You thought you heard your bed creak, but you were too lost in relaxation to care.

After 15 minutes of the hot bath, you got out, deciding to call it a night. You dried yourself off with a towel and put on some panties and a large shirt. Sleeping with pants on was too much of a bother. You don’t really get that leg freedom with a pair of slacks. You shut the door to the bathroom, only to slam yourself into it in shock when you see a bulge under your blanket. It was moving, breathing, and you almost had a heart attack.

Walking slowly towards it, you reached your hands out, ready to rip off the sheet. “Dear Lord, I’m sorry for that one time I cheated on my AP exam. I’m also for sorry bailing on my blind date to eat nachos while having a movie marathon by myself.” you muttered under your breath. This definitely wasn’t some drunk hallucination anymore. Not when there was someone in your bed, someone who could probably murder you. You grabbed the blanket and ripped it off, finding an empty bed. You were dumbfounded, staring with a gaping jaw on the spot. You swear there was someone there. 

After a few moments of recollecting yourself, you let out a shaky laugh. What did they spike your drink with? You found yourself screaming again when you hear a groggy voice.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

You looked at the pale boy sitting in the corner of your room. He had a sour expression on his face as he squinted at you, to which you returned the stare. Your chest was rising up and down rapidly, another scream stuck in your throat. His skin was so light, contrasting to the black sweater he wore. His hair was a light blue, matching the aura he had around him. Yes, he had an aura, a light blue tint surrounding his figure. He scowled at your shaking body, standing up and walking towards you. Only then did you find your voice.

“Wait, stay away from me! How did you get in?! If it’s money you want, there’s some spare change in the piggy bank I keep under my bed, just please don’t hurt me.” you cried out. 

The boy rolled his eyes, saying a silent tsk beneath his breath. “I don’t need money, especially in where I’ll end up in. What I do need, however, is a warm bed, so don’t enjoy sleeping next to me much, princess.” he smirked before hopping in your bed and pulling the blanket over him.

You were still frozen in fear, unable to comprehend what was happening. It was three am, and there was a strange boy stealing your bed. “Hey!” you yelled at him, grabbing a pillow and whacking him with it repeatedly. “Get off! I don’t even know you.”

He muttered a bunch of ow’s, shielding his face from your pillow attacks. “Here’s the deal, princess, I’m not hitting you or stabbing you with a knife, so why don’t you just let me rest?” he hissed, wrenching the pillow out of your grip.

“You little...” your face was red with anger. To say the night was unusual was a big understatement. You were supposed to be sleeping right now, not trying to get a stranger off your bed. The aura had you wary about him, but at this point, your fear just turned to rage. With all the energy you had left, you pushed him off the bed. 

You expected a thud, followed by pained screaming, but it never happened. Instead, your arms passed through him. You froze in shock again, staring at your hands showing through his transparent torso. Then, you both screamed.

“Ew, what the hell? Did that really- what are you even?! Just please leave me alone.” You stumble back,  vigorously rubbing your arms to get rid off whatever invisible trace of him you had. You breathed heavily, starting to feel light-headed.

“Oh my God, your hands were inside me. Shit, that sounds so wrong out of context. What was that for?! Can’t a ghost have some respect around here?!” He was about to rat you out more, but then he noticed you passed out, half your body hanging off the bed. “Jesus.” he grimaced, hauling the rest of your body onto the bed. He covered you with half the blanket, taking the other half and crawling under it as he slept with his back facing you.

You woke with your head feeling like it was drilled with a hundred jackhammers. You let out a groan and rolled on your side, memories of last night coming back. This made you sat up straight, glancing at the space next to you. The boy was gone. Something told you to look at your bedside drawer, so you did. A glass of water and two pills were sitting next to a torn piece of paper.

“Thanks for the nap -m.yg, the friendly neighborhood ghost boy”

So everything was real. You weren’t one who believed in ghosts, but you sure as hell did now. He had a light blue aura, and your hands passed right through him. He seemed harmless enough, but this was just too much to handle. You made a mental note to call the nearest priest after you had breakfast.

“Good morning, princess.” his monotone voice greeted you. You jolted up, looking around until your eyes rested on the wall mirror hanging in front of your bed. He was there, in the mirror. “You look like you got into a mud fight.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Excuse me?” you stood up, walking in front of the mirror and crossing your arms. “Listen ghost boy, you broke into my house and slept on my bed, without my permission, so you better watch your mouth. Don’t make me call an exorcist.”

His face flickered with an expression of fear, but then quickly changed back to the blank, stoic look he had. “Come on, y/n. Just give me a place to crash for a bit, then I’ll move out in the next blood moon.”

“And when- how do you know my name?” The boy chuckled, before disappearing from the mirror. You were met with your own frustrated reflection. 

“It’s written here.” You whipped around to see him standing by your drawer, holding your ID up. You ran towards him and snatched the ID just as he disappeared again. “Can you stop with the poof thing?” you said, exasperated.

Finally, he materialized on your bed, sitting with a contented smile. “You can’t call a priest on me, sweetheart.” he slyly grinned at you.

“And why is that?” you spat back, tone laced with fake sweetness.

“Me being here means other spirits can’t come in. And trust me, not all of them are as nice as me.”

You considered his statement, flashbacks of based-on-real-life horror movies coming back. You’ve watched enough Paranormal Activity and Anabelle to know how evil some ghosts may be, so maybe letting him stay was not so bad. You reluctantly set the rules for him over a cup of coffee and burnt waffles. Who knew ghosts could semi-cook?

“First of all, I don’t want you going through my stuff. And since you’re transparent, I don’t want the floating through walls and 360 degree headspinning thing. That shit’s creepy.” you said as you wrote the words down. He hummed in approval.

“Quick question, why didn’t the pillow I was hitting you with pass through you?” you stopped writing and looked at him. 

“I can control when a thing passes through. You caught me off guard, so I wasn’t really able to do it until I saw you about to push me off the bed.” He raised an eyebrow at you, then stared at your coffee mug, making it slide off the table, stopping it just as it was about to hit the floor.

You stood up, pushing your chair back. “That isn’t allowed! No ghosts tricks until I say so.” He shrugged again, making you roll your eyes as you sat back down.

“Anyway, do you even eat? Drink? Shower, or something?”

He wrinkled his nose at the last question. “As we’ve established before, I’m a ghost. I do neither of those things. Unless I want to, of course. I don’t even have to sleep-”

“Then why did you barge n my room last night?!” you cut him off. He scowled at you, and you suddenly find your cheeks heating up in embarrassment from your sudden yelling. You whispered a silent sorry before letting him continue.

“Sleeping is basically the only thing I can do to pass the time. When you’re a ghost, you get easily bored of stuff. I hope you understand, and fine, I’m sorry for intruding last night.” he looked away and pouted. You suppressed a smile at the sight.

“Okay, apology accepted. Last thing, if you want to use a something of mine, you should always ask permission first.”

After giving him a mini house tour, you settled on the couch to complete the last requirement in college before semester break. You payed no attention to the ghost boy, who’s name you still didn’t know, and typed away on your laptop. It’s been a whole hour of silence since you last talked. “Y/n~” you heard him call from the kitchen. “Yes?” you hollered back. 

“I’m bored.”

He trudged into the living room, pouting like a child. You chuckle at the sight of him. He immediately glared at you, pout disappearing with him. He just deadass poofed again, breaking rule number two. 

“Ghost boy, we talked about this!” You checked every reflective surface. You knew he was mainly doing it just to piss you off, and it was working really well. 

“Boo.” You jumped up, the laptop falling off your lap as you saw his face on the screen. You heard him laugh, the in the blink of an eye, he was gone again. ‘Shit’ you grabbed the laptop off the floor, checking if there was any serious damage. The space next to you dipped, and you figured he might’ve materialized beside you. 

“If anything happens to me laptop, I’m killing you again, ghost boy.” you hissed at him. He just scoffed, slinging an arm on top of the couch.

“Stop calling me ‘ghost boy’. Contrary to popular belief, I have a name.” He took a couch pillow and curled up on the other end of the sofa. 

“Which is?” you shut the laptop down, finally completing the file. You crossed your legs and faced him. His eyes were closed, about to take another nap. 

“Yoongi. I’m not Casper-nice, but I guess I still am? Yoongi, the semi-friendly ghost.” he yawned, and before you could ask him something again, he was already asleep.

It was crazy how easily you accepted a spirit into your home. You’ve learned to not ask him personal questions, like how he died, or why he was still among the living. You tried once, and each time, you just got a deep sigh and a sad look. Apparently, ghosts like music as much as humans do. He was ecstatic when he saw an Epik High album squeezed between some books. 

“You listen to hip-hop?” he asked you with shining eyes.

That’s how you came to listen to the album on repeat every Friday. He was warming up to you faster after that. There were times when you arrived home and there was freshly cooked dinner on the table, Yoongi acting oblivious about it. He’d be sat in front of the TV, pretending to not see the steaming pork belly meal. If you asked about it, he’d reply with yet another sarcastic response.

“Oh, why don’t you look at that. Food magically appeared, whoop-dee-fucking-doo.”

Sometimes, he followed you out the house too. It often had its perks when you were in some situations only he could help in. Like the time your teacher’s lecture was too boring, so he activated the fire alarm, setting the water sprinklers off. Or that other time you weren���t able to study for an exam and he peeked over Kim Namjoon’s test paper to observe, as he called it. 

“Yah, number eleven’s supposed to be C.”

“Yoongi, this is cheating.” you whispered to him, afraid that someone might hear you in the silent classroom.

“No it’s not. It’s called getting ghost-friend benefits. You owe me a foot massage later.”

The semester break finally rolled in,much to Yoongi’s delight. No school meant you being in the house more, which in turn means he gets to spend more time with you. Even though he wouldn’t admit it, he loves the attention you give him. Any attention was good attention for him, even if you’re screaming your head off after he appeared in the mirror again while you were doing your makeup. 

“Hey ghost boy,” you smirked at the name you always teased him with. He was sitting on the couch as usual, staring at the flickering TV (caused by his presence) timidly. “Since it’s the official start of break, I was thinking of laying the rules off. I’m gonna be here most of the time anyway, so I can supervise you.” 

“Are you implying I’m a child or something?” his eyes narrowed as he looked at you.

“I’m just saying. I have neighbors too, you know? I don’t want anyone seeing you doing the spooky stuff you do.” you chuckled at him. “The rules are off. You can do whatever you want.”

His eyes lit up, and he gave the widest gummy smile. “You mean it? I can float in the house now?” Of course it was the first thing he’d ask. During the first few weeks of being with him, you got used to the sight of him hovering over the floor, and sometimes even while sleeping on the bed. 

“I guess. But only during the night.”

He pouted a bit at your response. You rolled your eyes. “Okay, you can do it during the day too. But we need to buy thicker curtains.”

He let out a small ‘yes!’, then suddenly hugged you. His action took the both of you by surprise and he quickly pulled away. “Thanks by the way.” he said while ruffling his hair.

“No problem. I wouldn’t have to worry about you tracking mud in the house so-”

“No, thank you for letting me stay.” he looked at you, sincerity in his eyes. “The night we met, I was supposed to move on. Into the light, I mean. I just didn’t want to yet. I didn’t have anywhere to stay in, too. I saw you walking alone that night, and the dress you wore looked too revealing. So I thought ‘hey, maybe I should watch-over this girl for a bit’ and I did. Basically, I’m kind of like your guardian angel now, except I’m stuck in purgatory.”

“Awh, I never knew you could be sweet.” you cooed, moving your hand to pinch his cheek, only to scream as it went through. He glared at you while you took your hand back, rubbing it.

“Don’t push it.” he huffed, placing both his legs on your lap. “All this mushy stuff made me hungry. Can we get some pizza?”

“I thought you didn’t need to eat?” you chuckled at his demanding demeanor.

“Ghosts crave too.” he smiled at you before disappearing again. You rolled your eyes as you got your phone to order takeout, already expecting to see Yoongi in the screen. 

#bts #min yoongi #bts suga #kreativenetwork #bts yoongi #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts au

[kasumi-chou]

Warning!!! Angst! Character death!

For the amazing and beautiful @queenofaburiedkingdom

Déjà Vu

“Are you planning to sleep all day?”

A voice questioned with a soft chuckle. A chuckle that set his heart alight.

Victor ever so slowly opened his eyes, a smile raising to his lips when the figure sitting in front of him came into focus.

His beautiful fiancé sat before him, staring at him with the most endearing look on his face.

“Lyubimyy,” he mumbled softly while reaching out to wrap his arms around the man sitting in front of him. “What are you doing up so early?”

“It isn’t that early,” Yuuri said while gently brushing the hair out of his eyes.

He still couldn’t believe it, he was married to an angel. An angel that sat in front of him, blocking the steadily growing glow of sunlight that pierced its way into their room through the curtains.

“I’m a little nervous,” Yuuri suddenly said, causing him to pause. What would Yuuri be nervous about? The skating season had just ended and they had agreed on a little break before-

Victor jolted into an upright position before reaching over and tugging Yuuri into his lap.

“One more day,” he said with a bright smile across his face, “One more day and I’ll be married to the most gorgeous man in the world.”

“Victor,” Yuuri laughed while leaning against his chest.

“Yuuri,” he cooed back while leaning down and planting a kiss against his future-husband’s forehead, “There is no need to be nervous.”

“Easier said than done,” Yuuri mumbled, causing him to hum sorry.

“Just remember, that I’ll be right there. At the end of the aisle, waiting to marry you. You could walk down the aisle in nothing and I would still marry you,” he said while gently squeezing Yuuri’s side as he held him close.

Yuuri was silent for a moment before slowly tilting his head up to stare him in the eyes.

“What if I wore my lucky tie?” Yuuri questioned, causing him to freeze.

“No, anything but that,” he gasped while staring down at his fiancé with a panicked look. Not that ugly tie, anything but that.

A snort filled the air, following closely by Yuuri’s bright laugh. It was such a cheerful, bright sound that Victor couldn’t help the smile that rose to his lips.

Yuuri’s laughter slowly settled down and the younger male went back to leaning against his bare chest, letting him soak in the image in front of him.

His enchanting fiancé said in one of his shirts, which hung off Yuuri just right and covered the pair of booty shorts Yuuri had decided to wear. His glasses were slightly askew and his hair an adorable mess.

Victor leant down and press another kiss to the top of Yuuri’s head, pausing momentarily to get lost in the smell of Yuuri’s hair.

“Phichit said he would be picking me up at six this evening. On the dot and if I wasn’t ready to go, he was dragging me away,” Yuuri mumbled while tugging on his pants, the only article of clothes he was currently wearing.

“No,” he pouted while tightening his arms around Yuuri, “Don’t go.”

Yuuri let out a chuckle while lifting a hand up to gently stroke his cheek.

“I’m not going now, we have the whole day before I go. And then tomorrow we will be married,” Yuuri said while gently stroking his cheek.

Victor sat their quietly for a moment, arms locked around Yuuri’s hips with his face pressed into his fiancés adorable bed hair.

“I love you,” he mumbled softly while slowly rising his head to smile down at his lover.

“I love you more,” Yuuri chuckled, voice bright and cheerful.

How he wished he could live this moment forever.

It was the coldness that woke him.

The feeling of freezing cold air touching his bare skin.

“Oh Victor,” a voice sighed, sounding almost sadly.

He slowly opened his eyes and was met with a dull scene.

The room, which was actually a hallway now that he actually took notice, was a dull blue colour. The only light that trickled into the hallway was the light leaking in from behind the figure standing in front of him.

He finally noticed where he was, seated on the ground with his shoulder pressed up against the wall. He sat facing the doorway in which the figure now stood. It took him a few moments to really focus on the figure, the blur of black and yellow turning into an aged Yurio.

Where was the little fifteen-year-old gone, and was the figure in front of him really Yurio?

Victor opened his mouth to question Yurio about his sudden age increase when he realised how dry his throat was. So dry that nothing escaped his mouth, leaving his mouth ajar as he stared up at Yurio.

“Come on, old man, time to get up,” Yurio sighed, walking forwards and easily pulling him to his feet. He tried to protest to the manhandling, only for his feet to almost give out under his own weight.

“I’ve got you,” Yurio voice says gently, almost like the blonde was trying to reassure him.

Where was Yuuri?

Or even Makkachin?

Why was it cold?

Why was Yurio there?

“Y-Yuuri?” he forced himself to say, ignoring the pain that came with the single word.

He wasn’t sure if the blonde had just chosen to ignore him or was more focused on getting him to wherever he was being taken.

A moment later, he found himself seated on one of the kitchen chairs, blinded by the light Yurio had turned on. His eyes had barely adjusted to the light when something was pressed into one of his hands. His fingers wrapped around it the object, glass by the cold feel of it.

“Drink,” Yurio voice said softly while helping him to lift the glass to his lips. His drunk the while glass greedily, hoping that the liquid would drench his thirst.

He let out a sigh as he careful set the glass down with Yurio’s help.

“Yuuri?” he questioned, earning a sigh.

“Victor, why do you always fucken do this to me?” Yurio sighed, sounding more upset then angry. “Victor, Yuuri is dead. Gone. It’s been a year, just, just, just-”

The rest of Yurio’s sentence faded into the background.

‘Victor, Yuuri is dead’

‘Yuuri is dead’

‘Dead’

‘Yuuri’

It all came back to him at once.

He felt a tear roll down his cheek as he stared at the blonde in front of him.

Yuuri, his beautiful, gorgeous, enchanting Yuuri was gone.

Makkachin too.

His ears were suddenly full of Yuuri’s last scream. A scream of his name.

“He’s gone,” he felt the words escaped his dry lips.

“When was the last time you ate?” Yurio asked while standing up and moving away from him. He sat frozen, finding himself unable to move.

“It’s my fault,” he whispered.

“No,” Yurio snapped harshly, “Don’t you ever think that, Victor Nikiforov. You didn’t kill him. The asshole who drive through a red light and slammed into your car killed him.”

“But-“

“No, no, no, no,” Yurio said while reaching over and grabbing the front of his shirt. “No buts! You didn’t kill him, you didn’t.”

He sat there a moment, staring at the blonde before ever so softly grabbed the hand holding onto his shirt.

“But I survived,” he said softly.

“Yes, you survived and he didn’t!” Yurio snapped in his face. “And you are rotting away here blaming yourself for something you didn’t do. You were going home from my apartment; do you know how guilty I feel!”

Victor felt the breath catch in his throat as he stared at the blonde in surprise.

“You wouldn’t have been there if it wasn’t me. Yuuri wouldn’t be dead, or that overgrown mutt of yours. You wouldn’t have all these memory problems. I’m sorry, I am so sorry,” Yurio cried while crumbling to the ground in front of him.

“Yurio,” he mumbled ever so softly, “When did you grow up?” he asked, as the blonde sobbed into his lap, mumbling apology after apology.

“Are you planning to sleep all day?”

A voice questioned with a soft chuckle. A chuckle that set his heart alight.

Victor lay there for a moment, a feeling of déjà vu overtaking him.

I know this is less Victor breaking and more Yurio shattering but I hope you still enjoy it

#yoi #yuri on ice #yuuri katsuki #victor nikiforov #victuuri #yuri plisetsky #yurio plisetsky #queenofaburiedkingdom #writing prompt

[slapshotsandoneshots]

Chapter 8

Player: Tyler Seguin – Dallas Stars

Prompt: The next chapter in the Give Us a Chance saga. It’s a good one!

Mentions: Jamie & Jordie Benn

Warnings: Angst, Fighting, Cursing

Preview: The next two days were hard. Tyler had opened the door to all these feelings and then was nowhere to be found. You hadn’t even seen him in passing in the last two days. You couldn’t deny that you missed him.

Characters:. 2339 words.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three |

Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven |

The Masterlist is here.

Sober You really hated Drunk You right about now. You woke up in a bright white hotel room with a pounding headache. You could hardly think straight. Between the massive hangover and the replays of last night in your mind, you are lucky you crawled out of bed 

You glanced over at the alarm clock as you sat up. 10 am flashed across the face and you almost passed out again. Without your phone, you knew the search party was already out looking for you.

You groaned as you stood up and searched for your clothes. You sluggishly got dressed and reached for the in-room phone. You called a taxi and grabbed your heels. You took one last look in the mirror trying your best to fix your hair. You checked to make sure you grabbed everything and headed downstairs 

You caught another glimpse of yourself in the mirror of the elevator. This definitely looked like a walk of shame, sadly you weren’t that lucky. You ignored the dirty looks you were getting and crawled into your cab.

You told the driver the address and sunk down into the backseat, trying to hide from the bright sun.

After a long drive and a sizeable bill, you reached the house. You thanked the driver once more and got out of the cab.

You walked up the back steps and opened the sliding glass doors. Suddenly it felt like a thousand pair of eyes were upon you.

“Y/N!” ripped through your ears.

“Not so loud, please.” You pleaded.

Your family, the Seguins, and both Benn brothers were scattered around your kitchen.

“Where the hell were you?” your brother asked trying to be quiet but not hiding his anger.

“Well Drunk Y/N has such great ideas.” You rolled your eyes at yourself.

“That doesn’t answer the question…” Tyler suddenly speaks out. You look towards him. He looks beyond upset, gripping the kitchen chair in front of him, his knuckles ghostly white.

“Well Drunk Y/N, got a 300-dollar hotel room and then racked up 200 more dollars in the mini bar and room service fees.” I sigh

“I think we have seen the last of Drunk Y/N for a while.” I chuckle.

“Well thank god you’re okay at least…” Jamie started pulling you in for a hug.

“What were you thinking?” Tyler questions, anger evident in his tone.

“I just said I wasn’t. I was drunk Tyler” you respond getting angrier yourself.

“This isn’t you.” He quipped

“I’m not doing this with you now Tyler” you turned on your heels to head upstairs.

“Oh, we are doing this.” He replied quickly following you into the living room.

“It’s really not that big of a deal Tyler.”

“But it is! You worried us all! I thought something horrible happened to you!” he yelled.

You cringed at his voice. Your headache was getting worse and it was frustrating you. “Well, I wouldn’t have left in the first place if someone didn’t throw a hissy fit.

He rolled his eyes in return. “When are you going to stop pretending Y/N! You haven’t been yourself this entire summer! Jumping off boats, dancing with random guys, staying out and not telling anyone! This isn’t My Y/N!”

“There is no your Y/N! She’s long gone!” you yelled back unable to hold it in any longer.

“We both know that is not the truth!”

You sat on the couch already exhausted from the conversation. You both fell into an uncomfortable silence.

“I don’t know how to be her anymore.”

“Don’t give me that shit Y/N, you do.” He scoffed.

“Not without you…” you whispered.

He got on his knees in front of you, taking your hands. “Then why are we apart?”

“I don’t know how to be with you anymore either” you sobbed placing your head in your hands.

“Yes, you do Y/N. I love you. I made a mistake but I can’t do this anymore. I want to be with you. No, I need to be with you.”

You picked your head up. “Tyler, don’t you understand? You are always going to be this star hockey player! I will always be worried what happened will happen again. You are going to have girls flocking to you and I can’t always hold up to them. What if you change your mind? What if suddenly you decide I wasn’t worth it? I can’t lose you again. I won’t come back from that.”

The silence fell down upon you both once more. Only the sound of your sobs echoing the room.

“Then I’ll quit.”

“Wait what?” you picked you head up to look at Tyler.

“I’ll quit. I quit hockey, move back here, be with you. I would do anything for you Y/N.”

You looked at him dumbfounded. “Tyler you can’t do that.”

“If it means being with you, I wouldn’t think twice.”

“Tyler I won’t let you do that and you know it.” You answered shaking your head.

“Then let me prove it to you, please.” He begged.

You leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, I’ll always love you Tyler”

You stood up and made your way to your bedroom, leaving Tyler sitting on your living room floor.

You were both mentally and physically exhausted. You changed and fell into your bed. You were asleep the moment your head hit the pillow.

The next two days were hard. Tyler had opened the door to all these feelings and then was nowhere to be found. You hadn’t even seen him in passing the last two days. You couldn’t deny that you missed him.

It was making everything that more confusing. Maybe you were being ridiculous, you couldn’t fight the fact that you still had feelings for Tyler and they weren’t going anywhere. But apparently, Tyler was, had he left?

You sat in your bedroom, looking out the window towards the Seguin home. Tyler’s Jeep was nowhere to be found and it seemed like no one was home at all. You prayed that they hadn’t left for the summer.

You glanced into your room and your eyes caught the black box sitting in the closet. You allowed yourself to smile as you stood up and walked over to it. You ran your fingers across the top where it read Segs. You pulled the heavy box from your closet across your bedroom floor. You slowly grasped the top and opened the box. You pulled out each item reliving the memories that came with each one. It stung at first but soon the sting turned into a tingle and you couldn’t deny the butterflies once again taking residence in your stomach.

After covering your bedroom floor in memories, you smiled looking around seeing all the good times you and Tyler shared. Maybe the good times outweighed the bad?

You looked out your window, noticing the cars back in Seguin driveway. You quickly scurried to clean up what was on your floor. You ran down the stairs and out the backdoor. You didn’t even bother with shoes. You were out of breath when you reached the door of the house across the yard.

You knocked quickly, you were still mid-knock when Jackie frantically answered the door.

“Y/N, what a surprise.” She said not opening the door more than to show her face.

“Hi Jackie, Can I come in?” you asked between breaths.

“Now is not a good time.”

“Is everything okay? Is Tyler okay? I haven’t seen him around and I just wanted…” You asked suddenly concerned.

“Everything is fine Hun! Tyler just um doesn’t want to talk.” She stumbled with her answer.

“Okay, well can you just tell him I was here?” You said obviously defeated.

“Of course Hun, I will see you later.”

And then the door was closed. You stood there for a moment just staring at the door. You had never not been let in the Seguin house. You looked up at the windows. You thought you saw Jamie and Jordie in the window between the blinds but you put it off as your mind playing tricks on you. 

You turned and headed back home. Why didn’t Tyler want to talk to you? You quickly wiped the tears that were fighting to spill onto your cheeks as you slowly walked across the yard. You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to find comfort.

You went inside and finished cleaning up the remnants of the box. You scooted the box back into your closet. You rummaged through your hanging clothes. Reaching the back, you found what you were looking for. You pulled the old Whalers t-shirt from the hanger. Slipping off your tank top and switching to the oversized shirt. It still had the familiar scent of your best friend.

You just laid in your bed clutching the shirt you had on. You prayed you hadn’t ruined your chance. You didn’t want it to be too late.

You didn’t realize you had fallen asleep until you woke up still clutching the shirt laid across you and the stars outside your window. You heard soft music playing and grew curious. You walked over to your window and were eyes were met with Cassidy. She waved at you and motioned for you to come down.

You walked down the stairs as the music grew louder. You slid the door open and Cassidy was already waiting for you.

“What’s going on?” You asked confused.

“Just let it happen.” She replied and handed you a sunflower. She gestured down the yard. You saw the tea candles leading down the yard towards the water.

You started following the path and soon came across the Benn brothers both wearing suits and holding sunflowers.

“Are either of you going to tell me what’s going on?” you asked with a smile.

“Nope” they answered synchronized. They handed you the sunflowers and walked off, leaving you to continue down the path.

You ran into Jackie next. She stood in a nice sundress holding a sunflower and a small box.

You looked down at your Whalers shirt and leggings. “I feel very underdressed.” You giggled giving her a hug.

“You look perfect Hun, but you are missing something.” She smiled at you lifting the box. You looked at her confused.

She opened the box revealing your charm bracelet. “I think you have been missing this for quite a while.” She reached for your wrist and you allowed her to clasp the bracelet on your wrist.

“It’s funny how we are coming full circle with this bracelet.” You quipped as you touched each of the familiar charms. She nodded and handed you the sunflower to add to your growing bouquet.

“Now go see your boy.” She pushed you towards the dock.

You reached the dock but stopped for a second before you turned the corner. You took a deep breath unsure but ready to see Tyler.

You walked onto the dock and your breath was stolen from you. The dock was covered in twinkle lights and sunflowers. Tyler was standing in the middle in that same blue shirt he wore on your first date.

“Tyler…It’s beautiful.” You stuttered.

“Nice shirt” He quipped.

You smirked. “I might have been missing you. Is this what you were doing?” you asked.

“Yes, I’m sorry that I made my mom deny you entry to the house.” He chuckled. 

“I didn’t mean to make you upset, I saw you as you walked across the lawn. I know you only hug yourself when you cry.” He went to wipe the tears you didn’t even know you were crying.

“I hope these are happier tears.”

“They are.” You smiled at him.

“So I said I was going to prove my love for you so here we are.” He gestured around you.

You walked towards water. You watched the stars reflect in the calm water.

“You didn’t have to do this, its why I came over earlier. You were right I have spent this whole summer pretending and denying my feelings. I love you Tyler and I don’t want to be without you anymore.” You said turning around to face him.

You almost fell off the dock. There was Tyler, on one knee, holding an absolutely gorgeous diamond ring.

“Tyler…”

“Y/N, I wanted to prove my love for you. I meant it when I said I would quit hockey and move back home. I would do anything to get you back into my life. And once you are there, I want you there for good. So Y/N, I don’t want you back into my life as my girlfriend. I want you back as my fiancé. Y/N, will you marry me?”

You couldn’t find words, you just nodded furiously falling to your knees in front of him.

He slipped the ring onto your finger and pulled you close. You kissed and the fireworks exploded.

You finally pulled apart and he pulled you to your feet. “Come on.”

He led you onto the boat and started it up.

“Where are we going?” you asked holding on to his arm.

“You’ll see, just promise not to jump off this time.” He chuckled.

“I’ll try” you smiled kissing him as he pulled from the dock.

You headed out on the water. You giggled as you pushed your hair out of your face. Tyler smiled at you placing another kiss to your lips. You pulled away and looked ahead. You saw the rocks above the surface. “Tyler Watch..”

But it was too late. The last thing you remember was being pulled from Tyler and being thrown into the cold water.

#tyler seguin #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin oneshot #tyler seguin drabble #NHL imagine #nhl oneshot #nhl drabble #dallas stars