#joking aside my dad got a new carpet for his living room

[cflight]

"They're a 10 but they can't stop pissing on the carpet... so they're a 3."

“That— that was only a couple times!” Ekira protests, tears welling up in their eyes as heat begins to rise to their cheeks. “I— I had a nightmare, they were accidents!”

[taylorslovesswifties]

BABYDOLL EP. 1

February 12, 2022

This has been an obsession for many years, but to put it in writing in a comprehensible way, we have to go back a little bit. My father was a former Formula 2 driver. My dad saw my mom racing when she was younger and this incredible love started. Our obsession with motorsport started with my dad, he taught us about cars and how they work. He taught us everything from how to take parts off and put them back on, to how to modify the car. It worked out perfectly until I was eight years old and my brother and I hijacked my mom's car. Of course, that sounded more fun than ridiculous back then, unlike now. When we returned home, the scene was completely different. My mother was sitting on the sidewalk crying, surrounded by police officers and neighbors, she said she thought we had been kidnapped. After that, my mom gave us both a restraining order against cars, but that didn't stop my brother or me. Soon after, I went to the same courses as my brother and started my karting career like him. Right after karting, I started racing in Formula 3 and then Formula 2. In F2, I signed with Red Bull Junior Team and started racing for a team called Carlin Team. "Anna, your phone is ringing." My brother shouted from the kitchen and threw the phone right next to me on the couch in the living room.

"It's not a pillow, it's a phone, Daniel!" I grabbed the phone off the couch where he had thrown it and answered the call. Hearing my team manager's voice on the other end of the phone, I looked up and stared nervously out the window.

"Hello, Mr. Marko. How can I help you?" I tried to suppress the obviously nervous tone in my voice.

"There's an important meeting tomorrow, Bronie. The meeting will be attended by a few mechanics from the Red Bull team, a strategist and Christian Horner. "Christian specifically asked for you to be in the meeting." After talking about the meeting on the phone for a short while longer, I left the living room and went through the large door leading to the terrace of the house to give this news to my brother. As I was walking through the door of the terrace, I was slipping and falling down because of the carpet in the hallway. I'd been clumsier than I'd ever been lately. Thank God it wasn't affecting the races.

"Guess who just called?" He lifted his head for a few seconds from the simulation setup he had set up on the terrace.

"Fuck off Anna, I'm working." I sat down on the couch without caring about his swearing.

"Marko just called. He wants me to attend an important meeting tomorrow. Red Bull's strategists and engineers would be at the meeting. And Christian Horner. I'll be in the same room with Christian Horner! And here's the bombshell: Christian Horner specifically asked me to be present at the meeting!" My brother stared at me blankly for a while without answering. Then he turned to the large screen in front of him and exited the game, for the first time in his life my brother had exited in the middle of a simulation, "You're not kidding, are you? If you're really joking, Annabelle, as God is my witness, no one can take you away from me." I ignored his threat and repeated that the meeting was real. "I swear to you I'm not joking. Tomorrow I will be in the same room with my idol in the same meeting!" My brother got up from his chair and pushed the chair aside with his foot. He was hugging me tightly and asking me questions at the same time.

"Would they notice if you recorded it? Or secretly take a picture or something?"

"Brother!"

[calpalirwin]

Numbers

Summary: Sebastian doesn’t want to be another number to you, but little does he know he’s the only one.

A/N: Everyone say thank you to @jessalyn-jpeg​ for always being willing to cry over this man with me. 

Important distinction: Italics represent his thoughts, while bold italics represent hers

Word Count: 3.2k

And away, and away we go!

__

The sun was high and warm, and the sounds of wood cracking against leather grew louder as Y/N walked towards the baseball fields. “Yo, Number 1, lookin’ good!” she whistled, her fingers wrapping themselves in the chain link fence surrounding the field.

There was a loud laugh from the man playing shortstop, and he turned to either flip her off or stick out his tongue, but a baseball came flying in his direction, high and powerful. But not high enough. Almost lazily, Sebastian lifted his heels off the dirt, raising his left hand in the air, the ball coming to a stop in his glove.

“Right field, get ready!” Anthony, the pitcher shouted. “Stan’s lucky charm showed up!”

“I don’t need luck, Mackie,” Sebastian taunted, pulling at the sleeves of his jersey. “I’m Number 1 for a reason. Best shortstop in the state, right here, baby!”

“Mackie! Stan!” the coach barked in warning.

“Sorry!” both men laughed. And with his brief pause, Sebastian took off his hat, waving it at Y/N in greeting as she took a seat in the stands, before putting it back over his sweaty locks of brown hair.

As the practice continued, more girls made their way out to watch the team, and Y/N couldn’t blame them. Something about a guy’s ass in baseball pants, especially when that ass belonged to Sebastian Stan. And the college baseball team didn’t have any complaints about the attention they gathered, plays becoming more dramatic than they needed to be as a chance to show off, until the coaches finally called it quits.

“So,” Anthony asked Sebastian as they headed for the dugout. “Is today the day you ask out Y/N finally? Or should I try to shoot my shot? Like what's going on here, man? Cuz whatever it is between you, it’s gone on way too long, and I only got so much patience.”

Sebastian wasn’t sure how his face could grow warmer after being in the sun practicing for two hours, but it did. “I- We’re friends, ya know? And it’s not that I don’t wanna ask her out. It’s that I don’t know how. Or how she’ll react. It’s… a whole thing, ya get me?”

“Dude…” Anthony shook his head. “I say this because I care. But if you’re gonna make a move, make it fast. No one wants to be the one to cross you when we all know you got a thing for her. But if you’re not gonna shoot your shot…”

“Thanks…” Sebastian said, not sure if he appreciated the obvious advice or not. He knew he needed to ask Y/N sooner rather than later. But the idea that his teammates were lying in wait for him to either make a move, or step aside stirred up feelings of jealousy. But the only way of making sure they didn’t date her… He slung his bag over his shoulder, before squaring them and strutting out of the dugout, headed straight for Y/N. “Now or never, Stan,” he whispered to himself.

“Seb!” a girl called out and he turned to the sound, putting a smile on his face.

“Hey.” He offered a small wave, his eyes spotting Y/N, and kept walking, but then more girls were calling his name, batting their eyelashes, and touching his arm as they asked questions, and somehow Y/N got lost in the shuffle.

Y/N watched from her spot, the smile on her face dropping as she watched Sebastian get swarmed by girls who only wanted his attention so they could later brag to their friends that they’d gotten to talk to the star of the baseball team. And Sebastian wasn’t the type to be rude, even when he should.

Sighing, she shouldered her bag, heading down the bleachers, figuring she’d she go rescue him from his oh-so terrible prison of adoring girls.

“Hey, Y/N,” a shy voice called out as her feet hit concrete.

She lifted her gaze to find one of the newer players smiling at her. “Oh, hey, Tom,” she smiled back at him. “Good practice out there.”

“Heh, thanks,” he mumbled, his cleat digging into the ground. “So… you waiting for Seb?”

“I was yeah,” she admitted, looking over at Sebastian who was still under siege. And then a swell of anger bubbled inside her. If he couldn’t be bothered to pull himself away from them for her, then she didn’t have to wait for him. “But I’ll just catch him later. So, what’s up?”

Tom blinked in surprise. “Uh… I… Not much really. Was gonna head back to my dorm. Ya know, normal stuff I guess.”

“Well c’mon, I’m headed that way myself, I’ll walk with ya.”

Tom brightened as someone whistled from behind. “Damn! Kid’s got moves!” Anthony’s voice called out loudly. He jogged a few steps to join the couple, “Yo, Y/N, what about Seb?”

Y/N looked over her shoulder at Sebastian who still wasn’t even looking her way. “What about him?”

~~~

She mumbled airplane sounds under her breath, twisting her wrist to make the paper airplane fly around, before she really sent it flying across the living room. She watched as it glided through the air before nose-diving into the carpet as the front door opened.

“Apology food?” Sebastian asked with a hopeful smile, holding up a bag of takeout as he kicked the door shut.

“And what’s the apology for?” she asked, rising to her feet and crossing her arms.

“For being a dick after practice.”

“Chinese?”

“Your favorite,” he said, handing her the bag.

“Fine. Your transgressions against the crown are forgiven. This time.”

He tilted his head back as he laughed. “Thank you, your Highness. Although a little birdie told me that you ended up alright. Holland, huh?”

“Mackie is worse than girls with gossip, I swear…” Y/N said with an eye roll. “But yeah, Holland and I talked.”

“You know he’s a freshman, right?”

“Aw, is somebody jealous?” She flashed him a sardonic smile as they both plopped down on the couch and dug into the food.

Sebastian let out a scoff. “Me? Jealous of Holland? Pfft, yeah right.” Yes, insanely jealous, actually.

“Oh, so if I said he walked me all the way to the apartment, that wouldn’t make you mad?”

“You’re not my girlfriend, Y/N,” he said around a swallow of food. Despite how much I wish you were.  “If you wanna make baby Holland feel like a man for escorting you home, I really don’t give a shit. But you can do better than a freshman.” Like me.

Like you? “And you’d smell better with a shower,” was her retort as she knocked her shoulder into his.

“Mmm, you gonna join me?”

“Pfft! In your dreams, maybe.” And in mine.

Only in my dreams cuz once again, I fucked up.

~~~

Y/N figured one date would be enough to stir Sebastian into action. But one, the man had already made himself scarce by the time she left for her date. And two, the date sucked.

You’re not Sebastian was all she could think about throughout the dinner of cheesy one-liners, and bad jokes that bordered on offensive.

“So…” he asked suggestively as they walked out. “Wanna head back to my place?”

“No, I’m kinda tired,” she declined politely.

“Oh… well then I’ll call you sometime and we can do this again, maybe?”

“Yeah… no,” she said, shaking her head. “This was… nice. But no. You and I? Not gonna happen.”

“Right… I forgot you’re friends with Stan.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Oh, c’mon. Dude obviously likes you. And he’s not the one anyone wants to have on their bad side.”

“Then why did you ask me out? If all of you are so scared of Seb?”

“Cuz you’re hot, and I’m not on the baseball team,” he shrugged.

“Yeah… I’m gonna go home now. And you… ugh… yeah, no. Not gonna happen.”

~~~

Sebastian turned his head as the door opened. “Back before curfew, huh? Whatta gentleman.”

“Fuck you,” she told him with a roll of her eyes before stalking off towards her bedroom.

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” he said, bolting up off the couch. “C’mon, what happened?”

He wasn’t you. “He’s a pig. Said all the wrong things.”

“That sucks. But hey, can’t all be winners, right?”

“I guess… Although he did say one thing that was somewhat interesting.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Apparently you scare people off from asking me out.”

He snorted. “That’s fuckin’ stupid. Will I be pissed if some jackoff makes you feel like shit? Yeah, and I’ll probably say something. But shit… I’m not your boyfriend, or your dad, or some shit. Sounds like a lame cop-out because they just don’t wanna admit they’re pussies.”

And what’s your lame cop-out? “Ugh… I need a drink.”

“Grab me one, yeah?” he asked, sinking back down into the couch as she changed directions to head into the kitchen instead.

“So, how was your night?” she asked, grabbing two beers from the fridge.

“Uneventful,” he shrugged. “There was a girl I was hoping to go out with, but it didn’t work.”

“Aw damn. That sucks,” she said, as she joined him on the couch and handed him one of the beers. 

“Eh, it was my fault for not asking sooner,” he shrugged again, clinking his beer against hers. “To shitty nights.”

“Here, here,” Y/N cheered half-heartedly as they both took a long drink. “Fuck it. Paper airplane contest?”

He snorted into his beer. “We’re not seven anymore.”

“Aw, afraid you’ll lose?”

He sat up straighter. “Loser buys next case of beer?”

“You better get your wallet out, now.”

~~~

Sebastian knew he should have taken his chance after that first date gone bad. And Y/N knew she should have pushed him harder in her confrontation. But for whatever reason, the friends stayed at their stubborn stalemate.

Without Sebastian willing to make a move, Y/N began to wonder if maybe everyone had it all wrong. Maybe Sebastian was simply protective of her without having an ulterior motive behind it. So, she continued to go on dates with other guys on campus to ease the ache, until she couldn’t pretend they weren’t Sebastian anymore.

For his part, Sebastian not only took careful notes of the reasons Y/N gave for each of her short-lived romances, he also stupidly pointed her in the direction of new interests. And then he tried not to drown in his jealousy, before learning to grow doubtful of wanting a romantic relationship with her at all. Why would he want to sacrifice a lifelong friendship just to become another nameless guy she tossed to the side once she had her fun with him?

~~~

“Sebastian!” she gasped at him when he came home one night as she nursed away the end of yet another short-lived romance that wasn’t him.

“You’re drunk,” was the observation as he dropped his duffle bag to the floor.

“Ooooohhhh yeah,” she giggled at him with a wide grin, eyes hazy. “You gonna join me?”

“So we can both be sick? Yeah… Not a chance.”

“Boo…” she pouted. “You never wanna do anything with me.”

“One night. One night I don’t wanna drink with you, and that equates to me not wanting to do anything with you ever? Make it make sense, Y/N.”

“Well, you don’t wanna date me, that’s for sure,” was the drunk scoff.

He balked. “When did I ever say that?”

“Well it’s true, isn’t it? Everyone keeps saying that you like me, but you don’t do anything about it. Are they all lying? Or are you?”

He shook his head. “I’m not doing this. I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Why not?!”

“Because you’re drunk off your ass!”

“Just answer the question!”

“I don’t know!”

“What type of bullshit answer is that?! How do you not know if you wanna date someone?!”

“It’s the answer you give when you used to think you wanted to, but now you’re not sure anymore! Now… I gave you my answer. And I already told you once I’m not having this conversation. Not when you’re drunk. I’m going to bed. G’night Y/N.”

“COWARD!” she hurled the insult at his retreating back.

In his room, Sebastian didn’t sleep. He lay in bed watching his ceiling fan spin in slow hypnotic circles, cursing himself for letting it get this bad. If he had just asked her out after that one practice… If he could just rewind the clock…

In the living room, Y/N sobbed into her hands. The distractions never worked, even the promising ones. And Sebastian… If it turned out he didn’t want her…

Thoughts spiraled and time ticked by, Y/N growing more sober, and Sebastian more angry with himself.

“Seb?” she asked in a small whisper, knocking lightly on his door as she pushed it open, finding him still awake in bed, the little lamp on his nightstand illuminating the room.

“What do you want, Y/N?” he asked, more harshly than he meant to, as he pushed himself to sit up against his headboard.

“I- Nevermind… It’s stupid…”

“No, wait,” he called out to her as she turned to leave. “I didn’t mean it like that. I- What’s up? What did you wanna ask?”

She took a slow breath to steady herself as she turned back around to face him. “Do you like me? God, that sounds so juvenile…”

“Of course I like you, Y/N. You’re my best friend.”

“But you don’t like me enough to date me. Just enough to be protective about me dating anyone else.”

He sighed. Now, or never. “It’s not that I don’t wanna date you, Y/N. It’s that I’m scared to.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“To you, maybe. But to me, it’s perfectly valid.”

“How? How is that a valid reason? Sebastian Stan, scared of dating a girl? A girl who he’s known his whole life? Make it make sense.”

“You think I wanna be one of the guys you date? Maybe if you actually dated people, I wouldn’t have ever thought twice about dating you myself. But you don’t date, Y/N. You… God, I dunno what it is you do, but it’s not dating.”

“Fuck you,” she spat, feeling tears well up. “Fuck you! You don’t get to slut-shame me!”

“Slut-shame you?! How is it slut-shaming that I don’t wanna be another number to you?! That I don’t wanna be another source of entertainment for you until you get bored of me?!”

“Because you’re not a number, Sebastian!”

“Bullshit I’m not! You literally call me Number 1! You don’t love Y/N! You… you entertain yourself until someone better comes along!”

“That’s not true…” she whispered, heartbroken that he thought it was.

“It was for all the other guys! I don’t wanna be like them, Y/N! I don’t wanna be some random number to you! I wanna be the one! I don’t know how much clearer I can make that.”

“You know I only dated them to make you jealous, right?”

“Well congrats… you win. I’m insanely jealous of every guy that you parade through that goddamn door.” His mouth twisted and his vision started to swim.

“I didn’t wanna win, Seb. I wanted you.”

He hissed through his teeth. “Past tense… that, uh… Yeah, that hurts. Thanks for that… For this…” he twirled his finger about the room. “Awesome conversation. Glad we could have this talk.”

“You wanna know why it never worked with those guys?!” she yelled at him, her hands flying up in the air. “They weren’t you! God, I tried so hard to make it work with those guys! Any of them! But none of them made me feel the way you do. None of them get me the way you do. And… God! I wish they did! I wish at least one of them did, because then I could finally stop wasting my time on you when it’s obvious you don’t feel the same way about me!”

“I don’t feel the same?!” He grabbed a small notebook, hurling it at her. “If I never felt the same, explain that!” He pulled down the collar of his shirt, pointing at a small tattoo of a paper airplane on his chest “If I never felt the same, explain this!”

“Y-you got a tattoo? When?”

The sudden drop of her voice level took him a moment to realize what she’d asked. “When you started dating the guy with tattoos…” he told her.

“And this?” she asked, bending down to pick up the small notebook he’d thrown at her, thumbing through it. “Blue eyes, tattoos. Text back on time. Don’t say stupid shit,” she read aloud. “A-are these notes on how to date me?”

He shrugged. “I like to think they’re observations.”

“W-why would you need notes on how to date me?”

“To make sure you don’t get bored of me. To make sure you don’t forget me.”

“Seb-”

He shook his head fiercely, feeling his throat close up. “Don’t. Just don’t, okay? I know this is all my fault. I know if I had just stopped being a little bitch, and said something sooner like I wanted to, none of this would be happening right now. But I- Fuck… It’s always been me and you, and I dunno what I’d do if that stopped happening. You’re my best friend. And I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. And… I can’t risk losing you. I won’t lose you. Even if that means spending the rest of my life jealous of the guys you date.”

“And you never bothered to think that I had the same fears? That I’m just as in love with your stupid ass?”

“Why would you be? I’m just the idiot best friend.”

“Haven’t you been listening? I- God, did you really get a tattoo?” she asked. “What even is it?”

“It’s a paper airplane,” he mumbled, face turning red.

“Can I see it again?” she asked somewhat shyly.

He shrugged, taking off his shirt and tossing it to the side. “Happy now?”

“Oh, Seb,” she giggled, crossing the room to him. “You didn’t have to take your shirt off. You could have just tugged down your collar again.”

“Are you complaining?” he teased lightly, pulling her into his lap.

“God, no,” she said with another giggle. “Oh, Seb,” she sighed, her fingers tracing the ink on his skin. “God, we’re so fuckin’ stupid, aren’t we?”

“Oh, I’m definitely stupid,” he admitted. “Said and done so much stupid shit I shouldn’t have said or done.” His nose nudged against hers, his lips brushing against her cheek when he said, “God, I’m so sorry. I shoulda manned up sooner. And I shouldn’t have said those things about the guys you dated. I just- I fucked up. I let my insecurities get in the way, and I fucked up.”

“I fucked up too, Seb,” she whispered, carding her hands through his hair. “I was trying to fill a you-sized hole when I had you in front of me the whole time.”

“So you still want me? Even after I was the idiot coward that kept fucking up?” The blue eyes were big and watery with small traces of fear as they held her gaze steady, foreheads knocked together.

“Of course I still want you. You’re the only one I’ve ever wanted, Seb.”

__

Tag List

@cxddlyash​ @stanofalotofthings​ @philthepegacorn​ @youngblood199456​ @binxiboo​ @creator-appreciator​ @felixtok​ @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof​ @jessalyn-jpeg​ @lilyoflower​ @mychemicalimagines​ @rougese7en​ @milea​ @partiesandblurrypolaroids​ @summerdaughter​

[loubrary]

Billy Hargrove x Male Reader

Headcanons: You’re new in town and help Billy become a better person.

Warnings: mentions of violence and homophobia, hints of smut.

A/N: This doesn’t really follows the ST timeline but who cares about canon or accuracy, am I right?

[ Masterlist ]

Your parents move you a lot due to their jobs, they’re always researching something in some strange corner of the world. You can’t understand how you went from living in South America for the last six months to living in middle-of-nowhere Hawkins Indiana.

You’re out to your parents, and they’re very supportive. You consider yourself lucky, they’re very modern and open-minded people.

The kids at your new school don’t know what to make of you with your different clothes, hair and accent. Some of the teachers are fascinated to learn of the places you’ve been to. 

When you met Robin your gaydars went off and you’re both excited to have a Fellow Gay in town. She introduces you to her friend Steve and the three of you become very close. Soon you are also helping Steve take care of his kids.

Billy hears of this strange new kid and goes to look for him to show him who owns this school. When Billy sees you he is enthralled, the world stops and all he sees is you, he feels a strange sensation inside, and he hates it.

In the days that follow, Billy makes his moves. He is mean to you, calls you names. He tries to intimidate you and scare you. But you’ve dealt with his type many times before and you have some tricks up your sleeve. 

Billy hates that you don’t react to his taunting. You just smile and laugh.

“F*g!”

“You too?! Wanna go on a date, darling? Bad boys with pretty hair are totally my type, Hargrove.”

His words don’t work, so he changes his tactics. 

You’re walking through an empty hallway when he attempts to grab you and slam you against the wall. Only to find himself on the floor completely immobilized. He had no clue you had trained in various martial arts. 

Putting the pain aside, Billy is turned on by the feeling of being dominated, he feels himself hardening against the cold floor. 

You lean down and whisper in his ear, “think twice before daring to touch me, pretty boy.” You let him go. 

One side of him wants to fight but when he sees the determination and fearlessness in your eyes he backs down. “This isn’t over,” he huffs and leaves stomping the floor.

Billy leaves you alone after that. He only glares at you and curses at you under his breath. He hates that he can’t stop thinking about that day. He hates that he enjoyed being under your control. He hates how he can only cum to images of you. But at this exact moment he hates seeing you with Steve laughing. 

You feel his eyes on you, how they follow you as you move. When you face him his face hardens and his fists clench, but there’s something in his eyes you can’t decipher. 

One day you’re alone in the showers, or so you think. You turn and see Billy checking you out from the other side, completely frozen. You notice his hard-on and his eyes open wide. He thinks you’ll say something but you just smile and wink at him. He leaves hurriedly trying to control himself. 

That confirms your suspicions and you know what is up with Billy. You’ve met guys with internalized homophobia, but never like Billy.

After that, teasing Billy becomes one of your favourite activities. You pay him visits at the pool, making sure he gets a nice view of you. You notice when he covers his lap with his magazine, and tries to focus on something else. 

“Why do we come to the public pool? We both have pools at home,” Steve complains. Robin laughs at the clueless boy, and proceeds to explain the situation.

One day Billy finds you alone and he attempts to make a move on you. He was so confident believing you’d accept his advances. 

“I’m not some desperate lonely gay boy, Billy. I don’t bend over for any hot guy that offers me his dick.” “So you think I’m hot?” He smirks. You scoff leaving him there.

Billy hates that you rejected him. How is it possible? He thinks of the guys he tormented and then fucked back in California, how easy they fell to their knees for him. 

Billy has never met a gay guy as confident and unafraid as you. Deep inside he feels jealous and admiration for you. He secretly wishes he could be as open and be free as you.

You get paired for a project, you are prepared to do all the work and let him take part of the credit. You’re shocked when he asks if you want to get together to work on the project. You’re even more shocked when you learn that he actually understands the material and is quite smart. 

Against your better judgement you invite him to your place. You’re surprised he shows up on time.

When he greets your parents, it’s like he’s a completely different person. He laughs at your dad’s jokes, compliments your mom, and even asks about what they are working on.

Billy is even more jealous of you when he sees how loving and caring your parents are, how happy and peaceful your home life is. 

The second time he comes over he has to excuse himself and go to the bathroom to splash some water on his face and calm down. All he can think of is everything you have that he doesn’t.

He finds you and your parents sitting tightly together as your mother reads a book out loud in french for you and your dad. 

“Sit down honey, I’ll translate for you,” your mother says. 

By the fourth day he accepts your parents’ invitation to stay for dinner. He has fun, he’s fascinated by your parents’ stories and their research work. 

You get a glimpse of the real Billy and can’t help but smile. 

One day during dinner your mother talks about your exes trying to embarrass you, and asks Billy if there’s a special boy in his life.

Billy’s breath hitches and starts to sweat. He stands up quickly bumping into the table, saying he has to leave. 

Your mom tries to apologise and your dad asks him to stay. 

You follow him outside the house. “Billy, wait!” 

He turns around to face you and his eyes are red as he tries to hold in the tears. “Hey, it’s all—“ “I’m not a... I’m not.” he grunts before getting in his car and speeding off. 

Billy parks somewhere secluded and hits the steering wheel with his fists, he cries and yells in anger. He’s angry, sad, jealous. 

He cries for his mom, for a life he wishes he had, for the love and support he yearns for. 

Billy returns the following week to finish the project. He plans to just focus on the project, finish it and never return. 

Your mom answers the door. “So good to see you, love, we’ve missed you,” she says warmly rubbing his arm, “sorry about the other day”. He almost doesn’t hear the last sentence, he hasn’t heard those words or felt that way in a long time. Someone being happy to see him, missing him, calling him love. 

Your dad greets him and calls him son, and asks him to join him later in the study to show him their latest findings. 

You and Billy don’t talk about what happened. You focus on your project.

“Have you always been out to your parents?” Billy blurts out.

You decide to be honest. “Yeah, they sort of figured it out when I was little.” You tell him how growing up you met all kinds of people through your parents. You tell him about your parents’ gay friends that you call uncles and aunts. Telling him how you always felt free to be yourself with your parents even though you know the world is cruel and unaccepting. 

After a moment of silence Billy speaks. He talks about the only openly gay person he ever met, a friend of his mom back in California. He tells you about how his father hated his mom’s friend and got in fights with his mom about it. 

He tells you about his dad, how aggressive and angry he is. He doesn’t tell you about the physical abuse. He went on about how unhappy he was, and how different your lives were. 

You start to see why Billy acts the way he does. Bullying others is his way to feel he is in control.

“How do you do it?” 

“What?” 

“Being gay like that, you don’t hide.” 

“We only live once, I’m not gonna let a world full of bigots tell me I can’t be myself and be happy.” You pause. ”Billy? You can always be yourself here.”

After you finish your project, Billy keeps coming to your place to hang out. 

He’s more relaxed and tones down the attitude. He even starts being nice to Max.

He’s still the bad boy to everyone else, but when he enters your home all that stays outside.

You learn more about the real Billy. How he likes science and music. How curious he is. How funny he can be. And you slowly start to fall for this Billy.

One day Billy and you are in the living room listening to music lying on the carpet and giggling when your mom comes in. “Honey, your friends are here.”

You both look up and see a shocked Steve and the kids, and a grinning Robin. Max is especially shocked by the whole scene.

“Oh hey guys, you know Billy, right? We’re just listening to this new album.”

Billy panics, and stands up to escape, “I have to go.” You understand, not wanting to force him into anything. 

The others sit down looking suspiciously at Billy as he leaves. Billy avoids all eye contact. “What did I get himself into?” Billy thinks. 

Meanwhile Robin and you have each other’s arm over your shoulders as you sing dramatically.

“Is anyone going to talk about how you were on the floor giggling with Billy Hargrove?” Mike asks. 

One rainy night, Billy is driving to your house. His eyes sting, his knuckles turn white gripping the wheel. He feels his cheek and eye starting to swell. He stays on the driveway debating on what to do. He sees your bedroom light on and goes to ring the bell hoping that you open the door.

It’s your mom that opens the door. “Billy? Come on in, love, you’re soaking wet.” When he steps into the lit hallway your mom finally sees his face. “Oh my god, sweetheart. What happened?” 

“Who is it darling? Oh Billy!  Are you okay, son?” Your dad asks him.

Billy wants to lie, he had this planned, he would have said how he got into a fight with another guy and didn’t want to go home looking like that. “I got—I...” he tries. But he can’t keep it in anymore. “It was... My—my dad...” he chokes as he lets out a cry. 

He feels two sets of arms engulf him, and he lets is all out. He cries like he’s never cried before. He thinks he hears your name being called. He hears your parents’ voices, encouraging and supportive words he can barely make up. He cries even more when he think of how these people that he met not long ago care more about him than his own father. 

You find your parents consoling Billy. Your mom is holding him while your dad rubs circles on his back. And Billy holds on to them like his life depends on it.“Billy?” He looks up to you and you see his broken face, all the pain and suffering he has endured and your heart breaks for him. 

You help him get up and walk him to the living room. Your dad goes to prepare the guest room and your mother prepares some tea. Billy is curled into a ball under a blanker with his head on your lap. You run your hand through his hair as you rub his arm comfortingly. 

When he calms down, he starts telling you of everything his dad has done. All the punches, the bruises, the hurtful words. 

Later you take him to the guest room, you help him get his clothes off and rub some medicine over his bruises. 

“Can you stay with me?” 

“Of course.”

You hold him close, his face pressed on your chest. 

For the first time in a long while Billy sleeps peacefully.

After that day your parents take action, they’re on the phone with their lawyers, looking at how they can help Billy and Max.

Your parents help him get custody of Max. 

The both of them move in with your family. 

“Can’t believe you’re taking me to live with your boyfriend,” Max tells him. “He’s just a friend,” he groans. “Yeah, right.”

That night Billy is in your bed as you read to him, his head on your lap. “Thank you,” he says pulling your book down to look at you. “What for?” You ask, running a hand through his hair. “For saving me, and Max.” You smile and kiss his forehead and continue with the story.

In the morning you wake up to Billy facing you, looking at you and he smiles. 

“You okay?” He nods and reaches for your hand, holding it tightly as he scoots closer to you.

You move a loose strand of hair behind his ear, caressing his cheek, feeling how soft his skin is. 

You two stay like that for a while just enjoying each other’s warmth in silence, playing with your hands and looking into other’s eyes. Neither of you can’t stop smiling. 

“I love you, (y/n).”

“I love you too, Billy.”

[startanewdream]

Godfather duty

Summary: When James is surprised by Sirius and Harry coming home drunk four in the morning, he questions himself when he got too old for that.

For @theblueocean 

Part of the Jily Lives AU

Rated M for mentions of underage drinking and some swearing.

Read on AO3 with all the correct italics, or below the cut:

_________

His eyelids feel heavy, but James keeps writing. He is almost finishing the first draft of the article for Transfiguration Today; it's due Sunday and he still has five days to finish it, but James is really anxious for presenting it. It's not his first paper for that magazine, but his article will be the headline this time, and he promised himself he would send them in advance as much as he could - and he still needs to send it to Minerva for her to read and review.

It feels a lot like he is back in school doing essays, but James doesn't remember being that excited back at Hogwarts - well, not about homework anyway.

He puts the final dot and lets the quill rest, satisfied. He will proofread in the morning, maybe even rewrite altogether from a different perspective, but it's done and it's a competent article, he knows.

Human transfiguration was always a point of interest to him.

He raises, stretching up and looking at his watch. It's past four in the morning already; he really lost track of time. He remembers Lily calling him to go to bed - and then he promised her he would go in a minute, which he clearly forgot.

He suppresses a yawn as he leaves the library, thinking only of sinking on his bed when he hears a sound coming from the front porch.

All his sleepiness is gone instantly, and he turns with his wand already raised, alarmed and with his instincts screaming even though it’s been months since the war ended; someone is turning the doorknob. The spell is almost leaving his lips when the door opens wide and he sees Harry's joyful face.

Harry is not alone; Sirius is with him, their arms around each other in a brotherly gesture and for a moment James has a flashback of himself with Sirius with that same easiness, both of them beaming happily and goofy; it's a memory of twenty years ago, of a night they went around Muggle London joining a pub crawl that ended up with James' mother finding them passed out in the middle of the Potter’s living room in Godric’s Hollows.

A lot of things happened that night - a flight from the Muggle police when they tried to climb Cleopatra’s Needle, an attempt to perform a serenade to Lily only to realize they were on the wrong street and throwing eggs at Grimmauld Place number twelve - but what he remembers clearer is the smell of the alcohol on him as he woke up next morning - and then the taste of it all as he threw it all up.

And right now Sirius and Harry have that same smell of cheap whiskey mixed with beer.

James blinks, confused. As far as he thought, Harry had been back from work hours ago - James was sure Harry had been sleeping on his bed right now.

It’s evident he was wrong.

‘Hi, Prongs’, Sirius says, grinning from ear-to-ear, sounding much steadier than James would have guessed from the smell coming from them. ‘Care to let us in?’

'What's going on?', James asks, worried, stepping aside to let them enter. Both of them are stumbling, but James has the impression that Sirius is supporting Harry more than the opposite.

For some reason his question makes them look at each other.

'What I said?', Sirius asks Harry as if they are sharing some old joke. Harry lets out of one of his rare carefree giggles. 'What d'you think we are doing, dear Prongs?'

'Coming home drunk in the middle of the night?’

‘Chill out, Dad’, Harry says, winking at him.

Chill out?

‘It’s four in the morning of a Tuesday - I thought you were home already!’

‘I had to work late’, Harry answers immediately, grinning. Sirius takes him to the living room, trying to help him on the couch, but Harry slides to the floor, falling on the carpet.

‘On a bar?’

‘It’s for work’, Harry insists, eyes open as if that was obvious. 

‘It was a very important mission’, Sirius agrees. ‘Stealth. Mixing with locals. Spying on people’.

‘Oh, were there Death Eaters on that bar?’, James asks, rolling his eyes.

‘It could have been! Harry needs to know how to handle his alcohol!’

Harry giggles.

‘I handle it very well’, he says proudly, clapping his hands. ‘Tell him, Sirius’.

‘He won us money on darts. He even closed his eyes for the last shot. You would be proud!’

‘That you were letting my barely out-of-age kid bet on games?’

Sirius rolls his eyes.

‘Everything was under control, he won. Stop worrying, I was on godfather duty tonight -’

‘Between a drink and another, you mean?’

‘ - and I brought him home, right?’

‘Speaking of that’, James raises his eyebrows, now sounding openly reproachful. ‘How did you come home? Don’t tell me you drank and apparated’.

‘I would never!’

‘Or that motorbike - if you came here flying, I swear I will -’

‘Relax, Dad!’, Harry intervenes, now raising on a jump, ignoring how he tumbles in the process. ‘We got a cab. Eeeeeeverything under control’.

James watches his son go to the cabinet in the room, searching for something until he takes out a feather to doodle something on a parchment, not realizing it’s a grocery list.

‘I see the control’, he says dryly. ‘What are you doing, Harry?’

‘I am making a howler’.

‘What? What for?’

‘To howl, duh - hey!’, he turns to Sirius, his eyes sparkling madly. ‘Remus never sends letters - he only sends howlers!’

Sirius chuckles. ‘I howl too! Owoooooo!’

‘Hey, hey, you are going to wake up Lily!’

‘And?’

‘And maybe you don’t want her to see what you did to Harry - Harry, stop that, you are not sending anyone a howler’.

‘I have to tell Ginny I love her!’

‘She already knows, I am sure, you’ve told her’.

‘But I never yelled it!’

‘And she loves you more because of that, come on, give me that letter’.

‘I knew he wouldn’t let you send it’, Sirius says, his voice now smug. ‘Prongsie is old’.

James rolls his eyes.

‘Same age as you, Pads’, he remembers distantly, taking the letter from Harry, though now he realizes he didn’t need to worry. Harry’s letter is unintelligible and he doubts he could cast the spell to turn into a howler.

Harry pouts.

‘Sirius is right, you are square’.

‘What?’

‘We can never have fun’.

‘And you are so serious - more than me, haha!’, Sirius adds, now laying down lazily on the couch, his legs spread. James is about to complain that his shoes are all muddy and Sirius should take them out, but he stops.

Oh, Merlin, he is really getting a bit square, isn’t he?

‘I can be fun’, he stresses, making Sirius let out one of his bark laughs.

‘Yeah, years ago. Before you were a dad - no offence, Harry’.

Harry doesn’t seem to have heard him, which James considers a shame. Harry would surely defend him - he was a cool dad to Harry.

No, he is still a cool dad. The kind that Harry can feel at will to talk about anything, that supports Harry and that is always there for him.

Except that Harry didn’t tell him about working late tonight or going to a bar. Except Harry and Sirius didn’t ask for his company.

And if they did - he thinks of the paper he just finished and how excited he was for it.

He would have said no.

That’s not very cool of him.

‘I will take a flight!’, Harry declares, his eyes shining with this idea and for once James doesn’t feel satisfied with the mischievousness in him.

‘No drinking and flying’, James says sternly, and he decides that he will have to remain uncool for a little longer. ‘You - you stay here! Sirius - watch him. Better than you did so far, I mean’.

Sirius grimaces, evidently annoyed, but he sits next to Harry, who is now mumbling something incomprehensible, though Sirius seems to be listening to him with attention. James leaves them in the living room, locking the door behind him just in case, and goes to Lily’s office hoping she has stored a Hangover Potion. He is in no luck, of course; it’s been years since he and Lily even needed one - James believes it comes with the age knowing when to stop - and there was nothing in Harry’s latest behaviour that showed them they would need it.

For a second James almost considers waking up Lily, knowing she would make the potion in minutes, but he doesn’t want her to see the mess Harry is right now; it’s far better she hears it later than witnessing first hand. He grabs a small cauldron and the ingredients he will need and returns to the living room.

In the few minutes he was out, Harry and Sirius managed to make things strangely worse. There is snow in the room, that he sees Sirius casting from his wand; Harry is perfectly still, the snow making a sort of white hat on his head, his arms wide open and also covered in snow.

‘What -’, James tries to ask, but he just blinks at the weirdness on the scene.

‘Shhhh’, Sirius says, a finger on his lips. ‘Don’t distract him!’

‘What is Harry doing?’

‘Isn’t it obvious? Disguise training! He is a snowman!’

‘He is missing a carrot nose’, James notes, grimacing, and that makes Sirius turn his wand to Harry’s face. ‘I am joking!’

It’s too late; there is a flash of light and then there is a carrot on Harry’s face, replacing his nose.

‘Sirius!’, Harry complains, raising his hand to touch his new nose. His voice is muffled. ‘I can’t have a nose this big! How can I snog Ginny now?’

‘That’s your concern?’, James asks, half-amused, now taking out Sirius’ wand to make sure he doesn’t cast any more magic.

‘I will poke her in the eye!’, Harry says, moping, scratching the tip of his pointy nose thoughtfully.

‘I will transform you back as soon as you drink this potion, now lay still’. Harry sighs, sitting on the couch. Sirius sits next to him, patching him in the back as if he weren’t the one that turned Harry’s nose into a carrot in the first place.

‘Your nose matches her hair’, he says bracingly. ‘You will look beautiful together’.

‘I am not sure this is much comfort, Padfoot’, James notes, placing the cauldron in the fireplace and starting to throw in the ingredients. He could add something for the taste, but he believes the bitterness helps build character.

‘Well, I got him quiet, didn’t I?’, Sirius asks, pointing at Harry who is now sitting on the couch, still playing with his carrot nose.

‘You could have messed up so badly’.

‘I am not that drunk - I watched over your kid, no matter what you think of me’.

James shakes his head.

‘Letting him drink that much? He barely can stand - what if someone -’

‘The war is over, James’, Sirius tells him, sounding much grim now. ‘And like I said, I was there. Me, half-a-dozen junior Aurors and some seniors too’.

‘Unless any Death Eater threat would be a challenge to a drinking contest, I don’t think it would make much difference’.

‘Oh, Merlin’. Sirius sighs, walking to the drink cabinet and opening it to take a bottle of firewhiskey. ‘Here, drink this’.

‘What?’

‘You are sober, I hate talking to sober people when I am pissed. Sober people are boring’.

‘I am not boring’, James complains, pushing away the bottle that Sirius extends in his direction. ‘And I am past the age of being forced to drink to look cool’.

‘Then drink because it’s nice!’, Sirius says forcefully now. ‘Drink because you are alive! Drink because you are happy! Drink because for the first time in his life your son is properly pissed!’

‘That’s not a reason -’

‘That’s enough reason! He is eighteen! What age were we when we first got pissed?’

‘Seventeen’. Sirius raises his eyebrows, waiting for him, and James flushes, turning his attention to the cauldron. The potion is almost over. ‘Fine, fifteen - but it didn’t count, we weren’t thinking straight then’.

‘Yeah. Our first transformation’, Sirius remembers, but there is something heavy on his voice now.

‘What is the problem, Padfoot?’

‘Nothing’. 

That makes James stop. He takes the cauldron out of the fire, to let the potion cool down, and turns to Sirius, watching him. Sirius’ eyes are watery as he always gets when he drinks, but he sustains James’ look for a surprisingly full two minutes before he sighs.

‘Fine, you are the problem’.

‘Me? You take my son out for a drink without telling me, return home four in the morning and I am the problem?’

‘Look at what you are saying! He is of age! He was with his friends - and his very trustable godfather! He was having fun for once in his life, instead of living that responsible life you want for him’.

‘Responsible?’, James repeats, dumbfounded. Nobody had ever accused him of wanting to do the responsible thing. ‘I am just being his father’.

‘Well, maybe Harry doesn’t need his father anymore’.

There is a long pause after that. James blinks, once, twice, very slowly, trying to understand what Sirius means by that, and it’s only when he reaches for the drink cabinet to get a glass for the potion, that Sirius moves.

‘Shit - I didn’t mean like that - sorry, James, it’s not -’

‘No, I get it’, James says, his voice forcefully steady. ‘Harry wants the cool father figure that allows him everything - and, well, Sirius “what’s life without a little risk” Black is perfect for that’.

‘Don’t be absurd - that kid worships the ground you walk upon -’

‘And yet he was with you, not me. I get it. I am a father, not a friend’. He offers Sirius a full glass. ‘Drink this, you’ll feel better tomorrow’.

‘No, I deserve the hangover tomorrow, but that’s beside the point. It’s my fault’.

‘I don’t think you forced Harry to drink’, James notes dryly, sitting next to Harry to help him drink the potion. Harry seems to be in another world now, but he obliges to James’ help without questioning.

‘No, that was all on him - I mean it, he’d make you proud, he won a drinking contest with Thompson and he is twice Harry’s size - er, not helping, sorry’. Sirius sits on the other side of Harry. ‘He was going to tell you we’d be out for a drink. And I didn't let him'.

'Why? Why would you -'

'Because I thought you would overreact. Worry too much about him. Don't let him have any fun'.

'I would not -'

'And because I thought he'd ask you to come’.

James blinks. Between them, Harry lays his head on James' shoulder, now watching Sirius with mild curiosity.

‘I would ask’, he agrees, a note of pride in his voice. 

'Am I that bad company?', James asks in a low voice. Sirius shakes his head.

'Would you come with us?', he challenges. James keeps his gaze for a few seconds, but just like Sirius didn't lie for him before, he wouldn't dare speak anything but the truth.

'No, I had things to do today'.

'That article', Sirius scoffs. 'You don't talk about anything else'.

James frowns.

'It's really important - a chance of -'

'Getting yourself a name, I know, I know. But see -', his grey eyes are burning over James now, somewhat desperate. 'The Prongs I know would never care for reputation'.

'Sirius…'

'The Prongs I know would be honest with me'.

'I am - what are you -'

'I heard you and Kingsley, ok?', he blows off. 'Registering as an animagus? After all this time?'

There is another silence, broken only by the crackling fire.

'I was going to tell you', James says finally. 'I didn't think it was important - you don't have to register too -'

'That's not the point - you are breaking our trust -'

'It's just an entry on a list. It doesn’t change anything, I will keep our full moon nights -'

'When Remus has time, you mean?', he asks, sounding bitter now. 'He missed the last two, he'd rather stay home -'

'He has a kid now -'

'So do you and… you guys are getting old and responsible and too serious for me'.

'Nobody is more serious than you', James says, smiling at him, but Sirius just rolls his eyes and grabs the bottle of firewhiskey on the coffee table, taking a sip.

James extends his hand. Sirius raises one eyebrow, in disbelief, and his expression only relaxes a little when James takes a long sip of the firewhiskey. The drink burns his throat, infusing him with that weird dose of courage and a will to do something, but James just sighs.

'You are no less serious because of it', Sirius notes.

'I got serious - the war, the first one and then the second one and everything - and I think I forgot how to relax - but that doesn't mean… you are my brother, Sirius'.

'The annoying prettier baby brother?'

'You are older', James says, grinning, and after a second of hesitation, Sirius smiles too. 'You can invite me - I mean, we can do things together. Even if it sounds - or is - stupid'.

'Things together like… registering our animagus form?'

James rests against the couch, and Harry moves his head to rest more comfortably on his shoulders; James thinks he will sleep soon.

'You don't need to do it too - Kingsley already knows about you and he is the bloody Minister of Magic, isn't he? This was not about doing the responsible thing'.

'Then why -'

'I want the credit'. James presses his lips, before admitting something he didn't even share with Lily yet. 'I talked to Minerva - if I get back to my studies, get enough recommendation to be approved by the board, I could get her position'.

Sirius blinks, startled.

'Her position? You mean -'

'Transfiguration professor, yeah'.

He looks away now, feeling somewhat embarrassed. It had never really been an ambition - teaching was much more something Remus had always wanted to do than him; James had been glad to focus on his studies and develop new theories of transfiguration until then. 

But ever since Minerva had vented that possibility to him a few weeks after the end of the war, when they were repairing one of the halls destroyed in the battle, that thought had been on his mind. He wasn't in a rush, but the idea of getting back to Hogwarts, this time as a professor, watching other students learn from him as much as he had learned from Minerva McGonagall… he couldn't deny that idea had taken root in his mind.

James always teased her that he had been her favourite student, but the fact was that she was his favourite professor and there was some part of him that wanted to impress her and prove himself good enough to replace her someday.

He waits for Sirius' response, but there is only a silence that doesn't seem good.

'I know it's huge', James mumbles. 'There are others far more capacitated than me, I am starting now to -'

'Shut your mouth, Prongs', interrupts Sirius, and James turns to him. There is a grin on his face. 'Being humble never suited you'.

James laughs softly.

'I wasn’t trying to', he assures him.

'I thought - I thought you had wanted to do the right thing. You know, registering just because you wanted to follow the law, as if… as if you were ashamed of what we did illegally -'

'Now it's you who needs to shut up, Padfoot'. He takes another sip of the firewhiskey. ‘Animagus at age of fifteen? I’m damn proud of it. Also, that’s the only thing that I have done that’s cooler than half the stuff Harry got into’.

‘Yeah, I suppose it’s hard when your son is a bloody hero’.

Harry chooses that moment to start snoring loudly, which sends James and Sirius into a fit of laughter. James raises, careful to let Harry sleep on the couch, and Harry doesn’t look remotely close to waking up.

‘I am glad you took him out for a drink’, James says, taking out Harry’s glasses. ‘I was just jealous - it should have been me’.

‘I am sure there will be another occasion’, Sirius says dismissively. ‘He will probably forget every embarrassing thing he did, you know how that works’.

‘Oh, he embarrassed himself?’, James asks, a glint of fun on his eyes. Sirius smirks.

‘That happy giggling Harry you saw? Just the last stage. He was all cocky at first - that’s how we got into that darts bet’.

‘Harry? My son? Cocky?’

‘Oh, yeah, he reminded me a lot of you’, Sirius’ smirk increases. ‘He was strutting and all’.

‘Tell me you took pictures of it’.

‘I would never’, Sirius declares, though James isn’t sure he believes him this time. ‘And then he got very… honest’.

‘That doesn’t sound good for that stealth mission’.

Sirius shakes his head.

‘If he was spilling out Auror secrets I would be happier - no, instead I had to hear about the time he and Ginny -’

‘Nope, nope, I don’t want to know’.

‘Well, me neither, I won’t ever use your Invisibility Cloak again, you can be sure. But anyway - that’s why he got here so drunk. I decided vodka was the only way to shut him up properly’.

Sirius looks so satisfied with himself and his choices, that James knows what he has to do.

‘It’s late’, he says pleasantly. ‘Crash here tonight’.

‘Oh, I think I will - I am not fit to apparate’.

‘Let’s go upstairs then’.

‘And Harry?’

‘Oh, look at him. He is sleeping so well, he can stay here tonight’.

‘If you are sure’.

‘Yeah, yeah, everything will be fine’.

_________

James has slept barely four hours when he wakes up with Lily’s cry. He puts on his robe lazily, waiting a few minutes to go downstairs; when he passes Sirius’ room, the door is already opened.

Good.

He finds them all together in the toilet next to the kitchen, and by the sounds coming out of there, his Hangover Potion wasn’t very efficient.

‘We were working late, Lily’, Sirius is saying, sounding properly desperate. ‘And we went out for a drink -’

‘It was a Tuesday night! He has to work in one hour!’

‘So do I - but you see, I’m his boss, so everything is fine! Also, I don’t think any of the boys will show up -’

‘Perfect’, Lily interrupts him, her eyes sending daggers in Sirius’ direction. ‘Then you can take care of him’. She sees James. ‘Did you know about this?’

‘Me? I was working late on my text, you know’, he answers, yawning and looking very innocent.

Sirius waits until Lily is out for the kitchen to turn to James, his eyes narrowed.

‘You knew she would be mad. That’s why you told me to stick around’.

‘If I knew how my dear wife would react to knowing you got our son pissed? How could I?’

Sirius grimaces as there is another retching sound coming from the bathroom.

‘Oh, you better go there and don’t forget to keep Harry hydrated’.

‘Watch it’, Sirius says, but he goes into the bathroom anyway. ‘I won’t ever show you the pictures’.

James shrugs, undisturbed.

‘That’s fine. Next time Harry gets drunk, I will be there’.

‘I won’t ever ever ever drink again’, Harry moans, hugging the toilet seat now, his face sweaty.

‘Oh, kid, we’ve all been there’, Sirius sighs, flushing down the toilet and helping Harry raise.

James grins to himself, glad that Sirius is doing his godfather duty once again, and leaves them alone.

[mangofetts]

paz vizsla; nsfw alphabet

NSFW UNDER THE CUT

paz vizsla x reader

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

paz is very caring, especially after he’s been rough with you. aftercare will usually consist of cleaning you up, eating/drinking, and back rubs/shoulder rubs

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he loves his partner’s thighs and neck. he likes to hold your thighs and eat you out and loves marking you up on your thighs and neck. he likes your neck because when you show it to him it makes him think you trust being vulnerable around him.

his favorite body part on himself would be his arms and hands. he likes his hands because they absolutely dwarf yours and he likes seeing his hands on you. he likes his arms because they’re so capable and he’s able to hold you down and make you take it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

this man LOVES to paint your insides white. if he’s in you without a condom?? absolutely goes fucking crazy. it makes him stupid when you let him cum inside of you. this comes from his desire to have kids.

if you don’t let him cum in you, that’s alright! his second favorite is marking you up on your thighs or chest. you cleaning yourself up and eating his cum makes him go stupid too!!

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

when he cums in you, he wants to keep his cock in you so his seed doesn’t leak out. he actually has a plug that he never used on you because he’s too shy to bring it up.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

some experience! when he was younger he used to fool around and he never got any complaints about his performance. if he does come across something he doesn’t know, he knows to ask you about it. he does learn and adapt fast too, so even if it’s a new thing, he gets the hang of it pretty quickly.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

he loves doggystyle, but he has to try extra hard not to blow his load immediately after you get on your hands and knees. something about you in that position makes his lizard brain go ‘breedbreedbreed’ and he has to hold himself back before he breaks you. other than that, he likes to lay you both down on your sides (him as big spoon of course) and he enters you from behind. easy access to your chest, neck, and thighs.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

aside from teasing you, he takes your pleasure pretty seriously. he makes jokes, but it’s the humiliation part of it that makes him say it. stuff like, “you get a cock in you and you forget how to speak? huh?” and “so cock drunk you can’t even think.” your reactions let him know that he’s doing a good thing for you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

he has a trail but tends to trim and shave because it’s more comfortable for him. he doesn’t like the chafing down there and no one wants to get their pubes stuck in their fly.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

VERY VERY INTIMATE. he wants you to remember each and every time he’s taken you. if it’s one of your birthdays or your anniversary, he will go all out with candles and rose petals and shit. all that romantic stuff. he lives for it.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

hoo boy. this man jacks off so much you’d think he has an addiction. if he’s gone, he’ll squeeze one out after a hunt because he gets horny chasing after people because it reminds him of when you run from him. if you are there, he’ll jack off in secret. there’s something dirty about him jacking off and trying not to get caught by you. he will admit that he’s bad at hiding it because he’s too loud.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

OH BOY. daddy kink, predator/prey, authority kink, breeding kink, weapon kink, bondage, LIGHT bdsm, dom/sub. sometimes he’s in the mood for kitten play so you guys keep cat ears in the drawer. his daddy kink comes from him wanting to be a dad, breeding kink for the same reason. he also likes giving orders and you calling him sir. he likes threatening you with weapons (knives, guns, etc.) BUT ONLY IF YOU’RE UP FOR IT. tying you up is a yes. something about seeing you vulnerable and unable to move is really hot to him. some bdsm elements and dom/sub elements.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

alleyways, bathrooms, the bedroom. whenever y’all get horny, y’all can basically do it anywhere. leave it to paz to get you in the weirdest places.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

your moans and pleas for more keeps him going. other than that, when you touch him, it makes him want to return the favor so he’ll want to touch you even more. when you’re desperate and when you beg him to take you by touching him all over and trying to jack him off? that’s what motivates him the most.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

hurting you in any way. if you asked for it, he would probably try it with you, but without your explicit consent, he wouldn’t do anything. that includes cutting you with a knife, shooting you, anything that involves blood. now, he will choke you, but he knows your limits. safe words are implemented and if you can’t speak you guys have a visual cue. you are in safe hands with paz.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

paz prefers giving but isn’t opposed to receiving. this man has a sharp tongue, and he sure does know how to use it when you’re eating you out. he likes to circle your most sensitive parts and when you get close and gush with cum? he slurps that up like a starved man. he also likes holding your thighs up and back so you don’t accidentally squeeze them shut.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

both!! depends on the night you two are going for. he’ll be fast and rough when you two need it, usually this is after he’s done with a hunt or when he just needs you so bad he can’t control himself. on more romantic nights, he’ll go slow and sensual, hitting all those spots inside you and making you see stars.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

paz doesn’t generally like quickies because he wants to prolong your pleasure and make you feel good for a long time before you guys are finished. he’s more of a marathon fucker. regardless, you two will have quickies when you need them. like when he’s on business but wound up tight so he takes you into the alleyway for a quick fuck.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

he will experiment with you!! consent is the key to him so if there’s consent from both parties, he’s down for basically anything. risky things like guns and knives aren’t usually his thing, but if you like them, he’s down to try them out with you. not generally a risky person, he likes to play it safe. you know to go to him and talk about it if you need something more to keep you going.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

like i said earlier, this man is a marathon fucker. get him in bed and prepare not to leave that room for hours. his heavy armor has conditioned him so he can go for rounds at a time. being a bounty hunter is also a strenuous job, so all of that combined has really conditioned him to have good stamina.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

has one (1) fleshlight that he uses sometimes, but he likes to use his hands because his callouses feel good. other than that, he generally has no use for other sex toys. he is totally down to experiment with some!

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he knows what you want, and he knows what he wants. it’s how patient he’s feeling that day that causes him to tease or not. if it’s a rough and fast day, he’ll prep you but there’s no other foreplay aside from biting. if it’s a slow and sensual day, he’ll prep you, eat you out, tease your nipples, kiss you until you whine. it’s a feely thing for him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he’s very vocal. his grunts and groans are loud and heard throughout the room. it’s usually groans, but sometimes you’ll hear a growl if he’s particularly wound up. aside from noises, he talks dirty in your ear when he fucks you. things like, “you take my cock so well, pretty thing.” and “aren’t you just so needy?” teasing is huge.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

one thing that turns him on is when you pretend to struggle to take him. small things like clenching your eyes shut, whimpering, and grabbing at him. when you say things like, “you’re too big for me!” and “please! give me a break!” it makes him want to drill into your until you’re limp and boneless. it also makes him almost nut so use this tactic sparingly (or not ;))

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

tiddies. can i say that? his chest is huge, as is the rest of him.

anyways, he’s 8 1/2 inches long with a 4 1/2 inch girth. he’s very big 😌.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

since he masturbates so much, he definitely does yearn for you a lot. people think he’s addicted to you lmfao. you guys probably have sex once or twice every three days with him masturbating in between. it gets really bad when he’s away for more than a day.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he doesn’t fall asleep until you do. he wants to make sure that you’re okay before he lets himself sleep. it’s endearing, really. if it’s a marathon fuck, he’ll pass out after aftercare.

I REALLY ENJOYED DOING THIS LMK IF U LIKED IT OR NOT. dm me if you want to be in my taglist!! <3

@maybege​

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Exile

Breach Masterlist

Warnings: non/dubcon sex (series), general angst

This is dark!Winter Soldier/Bucky and explicit. 18+ only.

Note: I was planning a Loki fic for Valentines but that didn’t turn out just yet so I wrote some Breach. Like hullo? Um, yeah, hope you guys enjoy. This series is very special to me and I hope you all enjoy. We’re closer to our end and I am so excited for it.

I won’t demand but do ask for feedback; likes, reblogs, replies, comments, asks, especially on this series, but again, enjoy in your own way! <3 Love you!

Four years later, somewhere in South America

You giggled as the small feet stomped down beside yours, a paper bag hugged against your chest as you tried to keep the contents inside. Luka’s laughter joined yours as you chased him down the dusty walk to your small house. 

“Wait up,” You called after him. 

He didn’t stop until he reached your front door; splintered wood with faded blue paint. You were out of breath as you caught up and he smiled up at you. 

“You said it was a race!” He said. “I won.”

“Yes, you did,” You said begrudgingly. “So as the winner, you can open the door for your poor old ma.”

You handed him your key and he fumbled to get it in the slot as you waited. He twisted the knob with both hands and opened the door for you. He held it open as you stepped past him. You set your bag down on the table just inside and helped him secure the latch. 

“We better get started on supper,” You chimed. “Your father will be--”

Your voice died as movement drew your eye to the sofa just inside the living room. You neared the doorway and glanced inside as your hand settled on Luka’s shoulder. James leaned against the couch, arms crossed, as he greeted you with his usual straight-lipped expression. The child wriggled free of your grip and ran to hug his father. You frowned.

“What did I tell you about leaving the house?” He ruffled the child’s hair but didn’t pay him much attention.

“You were late,” You accused. “And I didn’t have any bacon for the feijoadas.”

“So we eat late,” He countered. “I don’t want you taking Luka to the market anymore.”

“But… he never goes anywhere. That’s the only--”

“I mean it,” He interrupted. “We… might be leaving here soon.”

“Again?” You asked. 

You didn’t relish another relocation. In your years since your escape, you’d lost count of the small villages; the never-ending journey from hiding spot to hiding spot. The unrelenting paranoia that followed you wherever you went.

“There’s a man at work. New hire,” He explained. He paused and looked down at Luka as he beat at his leg and chanted “dad” at him. He lifted him easily with one arm as he pushed himself away from the sofa. “He follows me. Watches me. He won’t be alone.”

“You think he’s... “

“Even if he’s not, we should start packing.” He said. Luka pulled at his beard and got a grunt out of him. He shook his head as he looked to his son who chuckled at his discomfort. “What do you want, you little punk?”

Luka laughed again as his father cracked half a smile. He may have been cold to you but never with the child. 

“I pet a donkey today.” Luka announced.

“I told you not to,” You intoned. “He must’ve liked your smell.”

“Oh yeah,” James tilted his head.

“Mama said he reminded her of you.” Luka grinned.

“Myshka,” You remonstrated as you turned back to your groceries. “It was a joke.”

James grumbled as you lifted the bag and shook his head at Luka. “A donkey is strong. Resilient.” He carried the child into the living room and sat with him on the couch. “I suppose your mother and I are a pair of donkeys.”

You took the paper bag and retreated to the kitchen. You listened to the low timbre of James’ voice as it was balanced by the higher pitch of Luka’s sing song tone. You started to unpack your goods and pulled out the large beaten pot from beneath the counter.

Despite your itinerant existence, you had a routine and your little family felt like a home. While the man might have been reticent, he kept you safe and treated Luka well. He had helped you learn Spanish, then Portugese, though your English was still lacking. And while he never complained, he rarely said anything more than he felt necessary. 

He was fonder of the child than you, as it should be. It didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. That you didn’t feel displaced beside him. A burden forced upon him by Hydra. Those days followed you; at night mostly. You woke from the dreams, more memories, in a sweat. He did too. You never spoke of it.

The hairs on your neck stood. The front room had gone silent. In the small house, you could hear almost anything. You set aside your spoon and wiped your hands as you neared the wide doorway. Luka was gone, his toys in the middle of the carpet. You stepped through and a shadow appeared beside you.

You turned and shoved away the man’s arm. You jabbed your heel up into his throat and reeled back to aim for his nose. James caught your hand just before you met his face and held you back as he coughed and gripped his neck. It was half a laugh, half a gurgle. 

Luka jumped out from the hallway. “She got you, dad!”

“She did,” James rasped out as he kept hold of your wrist.

“What are you two doing?” You pulled away from him and touched your chest. “You scared me to death!”

“Making sure you’re sharp,” James cleared his throat and continued to rub it. “Stronger than you look.”

“I do as you show me to,” You said as you cradled your hand still in shock. “That was very… mean. I…” You looked at Luka and felt a sob rising. No. You didn’t cry. Not since… “I am too busy for your games.”

You turned and stormed back into the kitchen. You went to the pot and added the beans to the mix. You stirred it as you heard James’ low voice from the next room. You sniffed and fought back the tears as your heart continued to pump loudly in your head. 

To think that Luka could be gone or hurt, even. And James. He might be little more than the stranger you’d met years ago but he was still integral to your fractured world. The last string keeping you together.

“It’s good. The fear,” He said from behind you. You dropped the spoon on the stove and turned to him with your hands on yours hips. “Use it. When you are scared, you use it to hurt your enemy. Make them more afraid than you are.”

“I know. You have said,” You spoke in Russian. You were angry. You couldn’t manage to seethe in Spanish. “That was not right, James.”

He frowned and his blue eyes strayed guiltily. “I had to make sure. You won’t know when they’re coming--”

“Do you think I am stupid?” You hissed. “Hmm? You taught me to fight, I remember. I practice. I play it through in my head every night. I only wish…” You voice crackled and you turned back to your stew. “I only wish I had known how to sooner… long ago…”

“Before…” He began softly. The air grew stifling as silence rose between you. “Me?”

“James,” You breathed and turned to him again. “I did not say…”

“You don’t have to,” He shook his head. “I remember too. I wish the same.” He looked down and his cheek twitched as he clenched his jaw. “I wish you had known… more that I had.”

“I…” You didn’t know what to say. “It was long ago.”

“Yeah,” He nodded and avoided your gaze. “But that doesn’t mean it’s over.”

You swallowed as he turned his back to you. You wanted to call him back, to talk, but you couldn’t think of how to. So you watched him drag his feet to the living room. He pushed his shoulders back as he stood at the doorway and watched Luka play. He broke the threshold and approached his son with a booming voice and your son’s giggles chased away the echoes of your fear. 

They were still there. Still yours.

---

Luka’s soft snores always calmed you. He slept on the mattress next to you. His warmth was stolid in the thick air. The shutters were closed as they always were. A single broken slat let in the night, though it was not much cooler than the day. 

A whole hour and you weren’t tired. You all slept in that small room. You and Luka took the mattress and James dozed in front of the door on the hard wooden floor. He refused to share the bed.

He had yet to retire for the night. You could hear the buzz of the radio as he sat in the living room. He listened every night; flicking between stations. He was later tonight. You could hear him pacing.

You carefully sat up and moved Luka’s small arm back beside him, careful not to crush it as you shimmied off the bed. He slept like a stone. You stood and kissed his temple in the dark. You looked at him one last time before you neared the door. You listened through the wood. The chair groaned as James sat again.

You turned the knob and pulled it open. You stood in the frame and peered out at him. He looked over at you and his blue eyes flashed. He spun the knob until the radio blipped off. He took a breath. He wore only his dusty jeans and a faded tank top. His metal arm shone stark beside his flesh and his fingers rubbed together nervously. 

“He sleeping?” He asked.

“You couldn’t wake him if you tried,” You stepped out nervously as he waved you over. “You should sleep too.”

“We need to go,” He said tersely.

“You said next week,” You passed him and sat on the corner of the couch, close to him. “It is not enough time.”

“But it’s the time,” He insisted. “It’s over. The wall is coming down. Germany is open, it won’t be long before the curtain falls.”

“Down?” You blinked. “It does not mean…”

“It means this world is changing. It will make us harder to find.” He explained. “It will also allow Hydra a broader reach.”

You nodded and leaned your elbows on your knees as you thought. “Tomorrow?”

“Now, if I could,” He said. “But…” He sighed and tapped his toe on the floor. “Not again. I have a plan.”

You were silent. You knew whatever plan he had, he wouldn’t tell you. He never did. Never told you where you were or where you were going. Just showed you how to hold your fist or hushed you. You hoped he was being honest. That this would be the last time.

You stared at him. He pretended not to notice as he ran his fingers over his thigh and lost himself in his own thoughts. You felt a pang and sat forward as a sudden wave of panic took you. You reached to him without thinking and grabbed his metal arm. He flinched and stared at your hand.

“You leaving us?” You asked.

“N-no?” He appeared genuinely shocked by the suggestion. “No. Never. Not Luka. Not…” He blinked and shied away. “You. I promised to protect you.”

You nodded and rescinded your hand. You let out a breath and sat back. 

“Good, good.” You said to yourself. “We would miss you very much. We would be lost without you.”

“Luka would be okay with you,” James assured.

“Not Luka, us,” You said. “I said we.”

He pressed his lips together and turned his face from you. He was hiding. When he looked back at you, his usual stoic expression hardened his features. You hated that. Hated how he guarded himself so closely. He was like that donkey; stubborn as hell.

“If we are to leave,” You stood slowly. “Then we should sleep. You hear? We? You need to sleep.”

“Alright,” He nodded. “I’ll be in soon.”

“I said sleep,” You repeated. 

His lips parted but he seemed to think better of his response. There was a glimmer in his blue eyes as he looked up at you. He shrugged and pushed himself to his feet. 

“You’re right.” He relented. “And stubborn, hell!”

“Hell, indeed,” You assured him and crossed your arms. “Don’t wake Luka.”

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 72: The Unforgivable Curses

"Mum's going to kill me," Frank sighed at the newest bout of trouble their landing had caused, in his own home this time. He had no idea what the implications of that for Harry Potter's story was, possibly the lad and Neville would be spending time together? That seemed to be the theme. Regardless, he'd rather read of that than imagine the scolding his mother was going to provide as he helped Alice pull herself free from the precious potted plants. The rest of their home fared no better.

It was a grand three story in a weathered Victorian design, with pastel shingles along the outside not even faded to time he could hear someone outside shambling around on, a sunroom Lily was blinking painfully inside of, and an attic with a portal window of an excellent view of their entire massive lakefront property he could clearly hear someone going through from the living room.

Reddish-brown dirt now littered the beige carpet, the bright afternoon sun shining in that almost looked like blood he quickly magiced back into place of the carefully designed pot, lest inner spells spill water on the floor next at their due time. The furniture had not been spared, his mother's favorite sofa now had a missing leg from his landing on it he was also quick to repair, but the spell wasn't good enough to hide the blue upholstery had recently been tampered with.

He could see the kitchen beyond, bathed in more natural light with Sirius Black prowling about in his now usual moody way. Frank winced as he carelessly pushed the chair aside his Uncle Algie always sat at and made his way to the back door to the lake beyond. Frank could see the exact counter space he'd landed on, and the ceramic bowl he'd shattered and had yet to fix.

"Hey, it's alright love," Alice placed her hand calmly on his shoulder as he winced for the abundance of noise for the others making their way through his house. "I'm sure whatever destruction we're causing is getting fixed when we're zapped back away."

"We've yet to have proof of that," he snapped, "and somehow, my mum's going to know it was me who did this regardless."

She removed her hand and stepped back, and he winced harder as he heard his own sharp tone well after the fact. "Sorry love," he apologized at once, offering his hand out and relieved she took it immediately.

"I can understand his nerves!" The older Black shouted from the kitchen, clearly no shame in eavesdropping. "Last two times we ended up at someone's home, it didn't end well for them!"

Frank went paler, and Alice shot him a nasty look. Those were his supposed friends he was so callously speaking of, but he didn't seem to think twice of it as he pounded restlessly, and uselessly they all knew by now, on the back door to be free as the others made their way down the staircase.

The long, narrow walkway allowed them to only come down one at a time, so he clearly saw none of them yet had the book. Quick to zip past them and see the damage they'd done, he also didn't want to admit aloud how he was also making a run from Sirius Black's words before anyone could see.

Alice began to follow, and he had half a mind to tell her otherwise, until he groaned in pain to see what they'd done and the thought of her comfort was almost all that sustained him.

Several of the photos lining the wall had been knocked down, their portraits shaking their head disapprovingly and joining the others still on the wall. Aunt Enid's glasses were a sparkling, twisted mess in the middle of the hallway, though whether she'd done that or someone mistakenly had was a fair debate.

Poking his head in, his room alone showed no clear signs of disturbance, but that could have been due to the fact there wasn't much to bother. His bed remained made with his pillow at the wrong end so that the sunlight could shine on that spot all day, the window open and the same small little tear in the flywire all that marked him apart from the rest of the house.

His insides sunk even lower as he wondered, was this still his room, or Neville's? Which time were they in exactly? If this was his sons, shouldn't there be some defining marker? One could argue, as the lad would be at school there wouldn't, but surely Frank was overlooking something...

Alice came up beside him and took his hand again, he squeezed it and wondered what she was thinking of all this, if she was dreading this mess starting as much as he was. Was Neville finally going to tell what had happened to his father? Name his mother? The two hadn't really spoken much of it, with no reason as they had no way to get a clear answer and fear of speculation stilling their tongues.

From below though, the clear sounds of Lily's voice spelling it out left little to the imagination.

"The Unforgivable Curses?" Alice hissed, so quietly it seemed she feared the walls hearing. "That must be, unrelated to, why we're here."

He didn't answer her, he couldn't find his tongue to say anything.

As Lily got properly started, her tone as always weary and unsure as she read of Snape's most resent foul deeds, Frank continued his way uneasily through the rest of his home. His mother's room next, which definitely showed signs someone had landed in here. The frills along the edge of her bed were crooked by a quarter of an inch, her stuffed hat had fallen to the floor upside down giving the bird an even more severe look than ever. He waved his wand in a vain hope to fix this, and still somehow knew he was missing something.

Alice stayed protectively by his side, her lips pursed unpleasantly as she watched her boyfriend pad around his own home with the same unease he had back in the Marauder's places. As Moody entered his classroom for the first time and they made their way up to the attic, she had to fight off the impulse to take his hand and pull him back downstairs with the others just for a distraction. She would have thought she'd love visiting his home, maybe even getting to see a more relaxed and casual side of him she'd been missing lately surrounded by others he didn't know well, but it seemed more the opposite was happening as they made their way to the last floor.

The two had been listening very intently this whole time to Moody's speech to the class, but thanks to the chapter title were not surprised at the lesson he declared they were having. It made some amount of sense to them after all, they were seventeen and heard use of these as common as the body count in the news, but that didn't make hearing of it being taught to fourteen year olds better. Nor why they were in Frank's house had yet to clear anything up.

Frank cast his eyes around at all of the tipped over boxes, the window open letting in a stiff breeze, and shifted his weight restlessly as he once again went to raise his wand and put everything right, then stopped quite suddenly.

The lesson was going along in the background, Ron offering up the Imperius curse first, but what had caught Frank's attention was a photo that had tumbled out of one the highest stacked boxes. He'd never gone threw these himself, his mother had expressly forbade it, but now for the first time he regretted listening to her so keenly as he laid eyes on his dad. He only had a few scattered memories of him in his earliest youth, laughing together mostly as his mother fondly scolded the pair. Her scoldings had only grown worse after he died, the Killing Curse he knew, performed by a Death Eater callously in the middle of the street while Frank had been right next to him.

He rubbed his thumb carefully over the photo, his dad and Aunt Enid laughing at some long forgotten joke, a fanged gerbil in his hands. Was this why they'd been placed here? The Unforgivable Curses mocking him back what he'd lost?

Alice knelt beside him to help sort out the photos as Moody finished demonstrating the effects of Imperio on the spider, and he paused at a picture of what must be his Uncle Algie meeting his mum for the first time to look back towards the doorway in surprise of Neville first being mentioned offering up an answer.

"Merlin I hope my mum never shared this with him," he whispered as he gathered them all up now, trying to ignore how tight his throat was. Looking at the array of life around him frozen forever in these photos made him well understand why his mum kept these tucked away up here. What good would it do to see these all the time? He didn't really regret this foray though, now he knew where they were if ever he did want to see them again.

Alice helped him pack it all away again carefully before sitting in the open window sill with him, the two huddled together for warmth and each other's presence as Neville gave such a bad reaction to seeing the physical effects of the Cruciatus Curse being put on the spider. It didn't seem fair that the one time he'd been shown to take initiative and offer up something for class he needed Hermione to step in and tell the teacher to stop traumatizing him.

Lily's voice quavered as she forced out the last curse, and Harry dwelling on it. What Moody was saying, it shouldn't even be possible, and yet Harry had survived, because of her. She only hesitated a moment before glancing up, and eerily looking right at James Potter.

He was leaning almost casually in the kitchen doorway, the other Marauders scattered around closer than they'd allowed themselves last time but still awkwardly avoiding each other. He wasn't looking at them though, but at her as well, his bright hazel eyes looking darker than she ever could have imagined as he pictured this all as well as her. It took little effort to give him green eyes in her mind, to see her own son's gaze looking to her for an answer for all of this. She still had no idea what she'd say to him, to either of them. How she longed for this not to be true, but growing more used to the idea all the time this was inevitable...

Alice managed a wobegon smile for Moody realizing he'd traumatized Neville and coming over to offer him a word of comfort after class like that, she wished half the DADA teachers they had were so aware of the students. She sniffled softly that couldn't have been her, the chapter title had come and gone in explanation and the two were left with more confusion than ever why Neville seemed so alone in the world.

Frank released her hand and wrapped an arm around her shoulder instead, still not wanting to cut off the air coming in despite the chill as they next heard of Neville actually happy once more, this teacher stepping in and giving him a positive memory now in encouraging him in a subject he was good at. It wasn't as much as they could ask for, but at least of some comfort he wasn't forgotten by everyone.

The story kept on track with Harry though, of course, and the two managed a watery smile for each other, not bothering to hold back laughter the Potter boy resorted to making up his homework for such a useless class. The two even couldn't help playing along at points and started suggesting their own bad predictions, Alice laughing so hard she nearly toppled backward out the window as Frank suggested Trelawney getting a frog in her throat and not teaching classes for a bit.

He kept a steady hold on her, and the two subsided to listen again as the twins were once more mentioned up to something suspicious, but that passed with hardly more explanation. Then Hermione was back, and finally revealed why she'd been darting off to the library so much.

"SPEW?" Alice giggled. "She really couldn't come up with a better name than that."

"I've heard one never can figure out all the problems with names they chose, it's good to bounce the idea off of others," he shrugged.

Both being purebloods, they had no idea what Hermione's real problem was. Alice even had a house elf at her home, though Frank's line had died out two generations ago, his mum still spoke fondly of the little thing. So far Hermione hadn't been able to hold their attention on the topic, all she'd been saying was how mistreated they apparently were when neither of them had heard any such thing, even what had been done to Winky made perfect sense to them. They listened with only mild curiosity as she wrangled her friends into her new club, minds still on Neville and their own future.

James let out a blasting sigh of relief he hadn't realized he'd been holding, finally tearing his gaze away from Lily to look on at Sirius. He looked all too pleased with himself at the news he'd sent Harry about heading back to the country, and James wasn't going to deny in that moment how thankful he felt at the idea as well. He still had a bad feeling about this Tournament being around his kid, he was going to need Sirius.

The two shared yet another look of understanding, but Sirius flinched and looked away first. James dithered on the spot, he wanted to go talk to him along with Remus and Peter, at least clear the air, but then Lily was winding up the last of the chapter, and he knew the boys in that dormitory weren't the only ones in for a restless night.

[mako-and-tails-and-stuff]

Day 13 - Paranormal AU

Pairing - Rita/Veridia

Words: 2,698

Rating: T

Here there be Vampires. More sort of Upir type vampires like in Hemlock Grove where they’re vampires but still ‘alive.’ Not exactly fluffy, it’s a bit darker, mentions of blood, death and other vampirey things. 

It was an old rivalry, like many of the old family rivalries. They all spanned back centuries. Rich, immortal Vampires families, at each other’s throats for centuries. Not literally at each other’s throats - Vampire blood is worth nothing nutritionally and tastes like off-wine. It’s not worth the effort. 

 It was like one those old playwright’s tales - the feuding families who couldn’t actually remember why it began in the first place. Rita had read it once, she found a copy in the library when she was barred inside the house following her transition. Romeo and Juliet it was called. Two lovers from rival families who both end up dead. The fragility of humanity.

 Of course the book was burned the moment her grandmother found it and threw it into the fire, screaming about how no human literature should be in the hand of a Vampire. If no ‘human literature’ was allowed then why it was even in the library to begin with was beyond her. 

Rita would definitely rather be holed up in the library right now, instead of accompanying an assortment of cousins, uncles and her grandmother to this ‘social gathering.’ A ‘social gathering’ being a mass gathering of the richest, most influential Vampire families of the country. Of course many of said families bitterly hated each other. 

 But once a year there was cause enough to push said hatred aside and pretend to get along for the sake of these gatherings. This was the first time Rita was permitted to attend along with the rest of the Santana del Rosario family. Newly transitioned vampires were considered too ‘volatile’ for events such as these and transitioning was deemed to take years, hence she been left at home while everyone else attended.

 The moment they arrived she had been awestruck. The manor was huge, inquisitive decorated, even beyond their own mansions and ballroom was easily the most impressive place she had ever seen - high arched ceilings with glittering lights the entire way up, leading to a crystal chandelier that looked impossible to clean. The floor was marble, enhancing the clicks of her heels as she walked. 

 Cousin Felix slipped an arm in hers, almost tripped her up as he pulled her closer. 

 “See that lot over there,” Felix whispered, nodding his head towards a group across the room. Each had the same curly coppery hair, and pale eyes, noticeable even from here. “Romanos. Stay away.”

There it was. Romano was a name she knew, they hated her family, and her family hated them. At least they were easy to spot. 

 “Ooh, they took their newest little one out,” Felix dropped Rita’s arm and slicked his dark hair back. The little one was what they called her, being the youngest to transition in their family. She’d never met another Vampire as young as her before. She tried to spot who Felix was talking about, but his incessant fussing with his hair pulled her attention to him. He made such a simple action such a momentous task. 

 “What are you doing?” Rita asked. “You already spent three hours doing your hair before we left.” He had taken over the main bathroom for the entire time, not letting anyone else in. She’d tried to get it to get her good comb that Felix had ‘borrowed’ but found the door locked with a note on it ‘Hair in progress. Disturb at own risk. Signed, Felix Serigo Santana del Rosario.

 “Making an impression,” Felix shrugged. “Can you imagine being the one to finally end the blood feud? I’d be a hero.”

 “You have no chance with that one,” Rico, Felix’s brother butted in and mussed up Felix’s hair. “She’d freeze you over with those icy eyes. You’d have better luck with Harry Yorke. Or try his brother.”

 “Hector’s here?” Felix asked, smoothing his hair back down, “I will be right back.”

 Harry Yorke was nice enough, the Yorkes lived in the neighbouring manor, but they didn’t often meet. The grounds between the two properties were rather… large. Felix used to sneak through the woodland to meet Harry until - 

 Rico nudged Rita’s arm, “Grandmother wants to show you off to people.”

 “Why?” 

 She was not some show piece to be shown off. That’s what the others did with the horses, cleaned them up and took them out to show all their friends. They’d done that to her own horse, Angel, an Andulcian mare from the same line as Rico’s high class stallion. It was Uncle Jaime who took Angel out and ended up selling her to Kilian Falk. 

 She saw Falk standing with Harry as she watched Felix slip away, wishing she could follow him and escape this. Falk’s blonde beard hid the sneer on his face as Felix came up to them. 

 “You’re our youngest. People don’t know you. And you won’t be the only one. That Romano one’s here too, Antonio Romano will be parading her about too. Not often they have a new one to show off, Antonio himself was the last one.” 

 As Rico had said, their grandmother had indeed wanted to ‘show her off’ with every new person she was forced to meet, her mood turned sourer and sourer until she could no longer even enjoy the architecture of the building that she had marvelled at when they first arrived. 

 Rita took the first chance she could to slip away, sneaking through a little door at the side and stepping into a cool corridor, the music instantly muffled. It was then it occurred to her she’d never been told who’s place this was. 

 There was no shortage of families in this area. The Yorkes were their neighbours, Falk and his range of relations had a large range about ten miles south, the Kilbride's twelve miles east. It wasn’t until the carpeted corridor turned into a wider chamber like room with portrait paintings on the wall that she finally learned it was the Ivanov Manor. There was no mistaking the scars across Sergei Ivanov’s face from the claws of a werewolf. 

 The last Ivanov was killed only three years ago by Alfonso Romano and the Manor passed into 

‘Communal control’ meaning a council of families ran it. Her uncle Jaime sat on said council. As side Harry’s mother Sylvie Yorke and Alfonso Romano himself. 

 “You’re missing all the fun.”

 Rita jumped in fright and spun around, coming face to face with the most beautiful Vampire she’d ever seen. A Romano for sure, she had the same curly hair, albeit pinned back, combined with eyes like ice and a pointed jaw.

 “And what fun would that be?” Rita forced out, trying to regain any dignity she still had. Vampires don’t get frights. Yet here she was, getting scared by a Romano creeping up on her.

 “They just brought in the human sacrifice,” the Romano said. She sounded serious but there was no way any Vampire would bring a human to an event like this. Much less to be killed, it was unbecoming. Killing for food was a private affair, at least it was in her family.

 “There is no human sacrifice,” Rita said, just managing to avoid catching the Romano’s eyes. She had such nice eyes, a bright, ice blue. If she was any weaker she might want to just stare at them forever. And if the Romanos were not her family’s most bitter, hated rivals.

 “You got me. Too many Vampire not wanting blood on their nice clothes. It’s such a travesty,” the Vampiress shook her head, the loose curls around her face bouncing slightly with the movement.

 The soft coppery blonde of her hair matched with the dark green of her dress, the fitted lace bodice, left both her shoulders bare as the straps curled around her upper arm. The lace went to her waist and flared out into a heavy skirt that to the ground.

 “You hiding?”

 “No,” Rita lied, “just having a look around,”

 “I saw you being paraded around by that old witch. My dad was doing the same so when I saw escape, I decided I might as well try it too.”

 She must be the new Romano that Felix and Rico were talking about, Antonio’s daughter. Rico hadn’t said her name and Felix had taken off to flirt with Harry and/or Hector before she could ask him.

 “She’s just excited to have new blood around,” Rita defended her grandmother, because that’s what you do. You defend your family and you don’t waste time taking to your family’s enemies, no matter how pretty they may be.

 If her heart still beat she imagined it would be hammering in her chest. She couldn’t remember how that felt now, it had been years since she was alive. In the biological sense.

 “My dad’s the same. I’m the first since him so everyone’s acting like it’s the Messiah or something.”

 “A religious Vampire?” Rita joked. “Never met one of them before.”

 When you live forever, and when religious symbols happen to cause pain, you tend to avoid religion.

 “You are hilarious. Do you know humans have people who make others laugh as a career, you should try out for that, I think you’d go really far.”

 “I think you’re right; I should really try out for that.”

 The other Vampire shoot a smile that literally made her knees weak and her stomach flutter. What was wrong with her? This was a Romano, she shouldn’t even be talking to her, let along joking with her or feeling any of these feelings. But then again, she really was nice to look at…

 The Vampire turned her head and looked down the corridor, the way Rita and presumably this Vampire and come down.

 “Someone’s coming.” The Vampire grabbed her arm and pulled her down the corridor before Rita could protest. She found herself running alongside the Vampire, the carpet muting her heels and the other Vampire’s. Then she was against the wall, shoulder pressed in against a wooden railing part the way up the wall and the other Vampire pressed against her. Actually pressed against her with her hand still around Rita’s arm. She could smell the Vampire’s perfume, it was the same one she normally wore herself.

 One of the serving staff, another Vampire, out with the families passed by without a second look and the Vampire pressed up against took a step back.

 “I’m Veridia, by the way. Veridia Romano,” the Vam – Veridia introduced herself.

 “Margarita Santana del Rosario,” Rita said. Her voice was weaker than she wanted it to be, she was still a little in shock from having Veridia literally pressed right up against her.

 Veridia raised an eyebrow.

 “Most people call me Rita.” Her grandmother and Uncle Jaime were the only ones who called her Margarita. And under official ‘professional’ circumstances where everyone one went by their full and complete names.

 “Well Rita, it’s nice to meet you. Hopefully I’ll see you around,” Veridia let go of her arm and set off back down the corridor. She tried to not to stare, but it was hard not to.

 Rita tucked a loose strand of hair behind her eye and took a deep breath before following after Veridia and rejoining the party.

 Veridia may have been joking about the human sacrifice but no Vampire gathering is complete without a little fresh blood. Mixed with alcohol. It wasn’t the nicest mix in the world but it did enough to stop her thinking about Veridia and focusing instead on dancing with Harry. He was a good dancer, and it was a nice distraction until she caught sight of Veridia across the room standing with her father. Rita’s mind was flooded with the memory of Veridia pushing her against the wall so that server wouldn’t see them.

 Rita managed until the end of the dance and no more before she slipped off again, back down that corridor passed the paintings of the Ivanov’s and Sergei with his scars. Every time she turned she’d been looking for Veridia, so best to just leave completely and hide until it was time to leave. Hopefully no one would pay too much attention, if they did, she’d blame it on the alcohol. Or the blood, it tasted like nothing she’d ever had before. But that could just be the alcohol.

 She could smell Veridia’s perfume again, so managed to avoid jumping when Veridia spoke beside her, “you’re hiding again?”

 “Of course not,” Rita lied. She was technically hiding. From Veridia.

 “So why are you out here?" Veridia asked, her ice eyes seemingly staring right into Rita’s non-existent soul. “You looked like you were having fun with that Yorke boy.”

 “Harry? Felix is more interested in him than I am. Or maybe it’s Hector he likes more…” Felix switched every week between the two. But then he had been interested in Veridia when her saw her, a fact which now made her… jealous? She’d never been jealous before. She should not be jealous not of a Romano.

 “That’s the funny one with the stupid hair isn’t it?” Veridia asked.

 “That’s him.”

 “Tell your Harry to keep him. He kept trying to flirt with me until he got dragged off. No. Thank you.”

 “Probably wise. He locked himself in the bathroom for three hours doing his hair.”

 “Harry can most definitely keep him. I don’t even take three hours.”

 “Neither. It’s insane.”

 Veridia laughed at that. It was a nice, soft feeling that brought up. She made Veridia laugh. Why did it feel nice? It shouldn’t.

 “Come with me,” Veridia held out her hand.

 “Why?” Rita asked. Where would a Romano want to go with her?

 “I found something really cool when I was here with my uncle before, I want to show you. And before you ask – it’s a surprise. You have to come with me to see it.”

 It sounded suspicious. Yet here she was, taking Veridia’s hand. Veridia lead her along the corridor and up a small set of flagstone stairs, then a set of flagstone spiral stairs. This end of the house was so still, no music drifted, no chatter, nothing. Just the sounds of their feet on the stairs.

 On the last step Rita just missed the edge of the step and slipped, tipping forwards. Veridia’s arm shot around her waist to try to pull her up and stop her hitting the stone. All the effort succeed in was Veridia also hitting the ground, thankfully at the top of the stairs. Rita really did not like the idea of the edge of the stairs hitting into her, catching her skirt. Rather, she landed partially on top of Veridia, legs tangled and Veridia’s arm over her back.

 She couldn’t remember how to move. She really couldn’t.

 “Are you okay?”

 Rita nodded, “are you?”

 “Very.”

 Veridia made no effort to remove her arm or try to get up. Maybe she forgot how to move as well. Rita wasn’t going to complain. Especially when Veridia slowly sat up, but kept her arm around Rita. Rita tried to pull away, not willingly, this closeness to another person, especially on as pretty as Veridia, was something she never really had.

 It didn’t really feel… real. She felt like she was going to wake up any second back in her own room and Veridia would just be some dream phantom she imagined.

 She still wasn’t fully convinced even as Veridia titled up her chin with one fingers, her nails painted to match her dress and lightly pressed her lips against Rita’s. Rita kissed Veridia back and reached up to touch Veridia’s face, feeling sharp cheekbones and jawline.

 Veridia’s other hand found it’s way around the back of her neck, her fingers cool as they wound around Rita’s hair.

 _________________________________________

 “I have two questions,” Felix pounced the moment Rita slipped back into the party. “one where have you been? And two why is there blood on your neck?”

 Rita caught Veridia’s eye as the other Vampire rejoined everyone as well, her hair slightly mussed and a smear of red at the corner of her mouth.

 What rivals? And whoever said Vampire blood tasted awful, was clearly lying. 

[deans-mind-palace]

Love and hair

Pairing: Jensen x Daughter!Reader, Jared x Daughter!Reader, Mom!OC x Daughter!Reader

Summary: Part 2 to Lullabies. 

Word Count: 1,332

Warnings: Paternity test, fluff, no incest

Author’s Note: Wasn’t sure if I should write that, but here it is… Based on this request by @justas-confused-asthenextperson Part 2 to Lullabies please? It's set 18 years in the future and the readers kid wants to know who their father is? You can pick who the father is.

Your birth was exactly 18 years, 9 days, 11 hours and 3 minutes ago. Exactly 53 - no, 54 seconds. Your mom had often told you the story of how you were born in New York and your fathers suddenly surprised her in hospital. How they were both happy to see you. Your dad, Jensen, never wanted to take you out of his arms again. And your dad Jared had watched the midwife watchfully over her shoulder as she measured, weighed and examined you before a doctor looked at the bruise on his hand that your mother had given him during labor. Both of them had been totally excited and your mom had almost had them thrown out of the room. 

Just a reminder, your fathers were Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki. Well, biologically, only one of them, but you never cared before. As a child, you were lucky enough to grow up with not one, but two wonderful fathers who both loved you dearly. Jared taught you how to walk, Jensen taught you the word "daddy. They both taught you how to swim, read you bedtime stories and scared the monsters under the bed away. They had run after your bike and bandaged your first banged up knee. First day of elementary school, middle school and high school. Your first swimming competition, your first boyfriend and your first heartbreak. They had watched over your every step and held their hands over corners and edges to protect you. You had always had a sheltered childhood away from cameras, spotlights, red carpets, and the thunderstorm of camera flashlights. After you were born, your mom left Supernatural. Of course, sometimes you surprised your dads on set, but they were always keen to keep you away from the film industry so you could grow up like normal child. They were with you all your life and they were always by your side. You couldn't put into words how much you loved them. They were the most important people in your life.

And yet there was this question that tormented you all your life, since you knew that it was not normal to have two fathers and one mother. It tormented you sometimes in your sleep and ran like a shadow through your everyday life. It followed you everywhere like an old friend. Who was your biological father? 

You didn't know how often you had asked yourself this question. Your mom had deliberately not ordered a test after your birth because she wanted you to have the right to decide later whether you wanted to know who your biological father was. And actually you had no problem with that either, because you loved them both and it didn't matter to you - but somehow it did. There was always this uncertainty eating away at you. Often you stood for hours in front of the big wall mirror in your room and looked for similarities, any clues that told you who your biological father was. That hair might be your dad Jared's. But the  eyes looked like Jensen's. And your mouth? Wasn't that Jensen's? Was that Jared's forehead that you recognized in the mirror on your face?

Nine days ago, on your 18th birthday, you finally made your choice. You wanted to know with absolute certainty who your father was. You had just graduated high school and had received your college acceptance letter. You were no longer a child. You wanted to know who your father was. So here you were. In the waiting room of the lab that ran the test. The results were due to be announced in a few minutes and there was excitement in the air. While you tugged at the sleeve of your sweater, Jensen paced nervously up and down and Jared impatiently bobbed his knee. You took turns looking at the clock. When your eyes met, you threw a tense smile at each other and looked away again. It was a difficult situation for you all. Jensen and Jared may have had to live with the fact that you weren't their daughter and you had to live with the fact that you actually only had one father. What if it was the wrong guy? What if you'd rather have the other one as your father? Jensen or Jared? Should you care? No, it never mattered! You blamed it on the nerves. You didn't care who your father was, and you were about to jump up and leave. Maybe you guys could go out for ice cream. Your favorite sundae with the cherry on top, which Jensen would steal from you while Jared was still handing you the whipped cream from his sundae. 

Just as you were about to break it off, the door opened. You and Jared jumped up, while Jensen stopped short. There was a lady in a lab coat smiling at you nicely. She wore glasses and had a clipboard in her hand. "Mr. Ackles? Mr Padalecki? Y/N? The results are in now. Would you like to hear them?" You took a deep breath and gulped, then you turned to the woman. "Just a moment." you asked, and then you turned to your fathers. "I want you to know that it doesn't matter who of you my biological dad is. I will always love the both of you, no matter what." Without waiting for an answer, you turned to the woman in the white coat. 
"You may now announce the results." She looked at you just over the edge of your glasses and finally nodded."Mr Padalecki? Congratulations. You became a father 18 years ago." Jared stood there surprised, mouth open. So many emotions ran across his face, and he seemed overwhelmed when you two embraced. A broad grin was on his lips and he whirled you through the air just like when you were a little kid. As soon as Jared dropped you off, you remembered Jensen. He stood sadly aside and gave you your moment. His hands were buried in the pockets of his jeans and he stood there uncertainly.

"I-I'm gonna go." You looked at him surprised. "What?" He shrugged his shoulders until Jared joined in. "Bollocks, Jay. You're going for ice cream with us now," said Jared, patting his buddy on the back. Jensen stood there hesitatingly. You stepped to him. "You're not my dad by blood, but that doesn't change anything. You're the best dad ever and I love you," you said honestly. You saw his affection for you in his green eyes. Now Jared came along and wrapped an arm around Jensen's shoulder.

"Dude, we've been agonized by her for more than 18 years. You're not gonna let me down now." He said, acting threatening, then he got serious, "Jay, this here is our daughter. I could never handle her without you. She has enough temperament and love for two dads. She's our whirlwind that's been sweeping through our lives, turning everything upside down. But most of all, she's our daughter. She's our baby, yours and mine, and always has been." Jensen nodded and a grin crept up to his lips.

"In that case, who's up for ice cream?" You burst out laughing and cheering. Like a small child, you left the building where the test lab was located hand in hand with them. "I'll have extra sprinkles... And chocolate sauce! And whipped cream!" you announced. "So will I! Plus chocolate chips." You nodded eagerly and Jared snorted in amusement. "Father or not, Jensen. That appetite of hers she definitely got from you." He winked at you, smiling.

And so you sat at your favorite coffee shop. You had ice cream with extra sauce, sprinkles, chocolate chips and whipped cream. Jensen stole your cherry, as usual, and Jared scraped his whipped cream off the top of his chocolate ice cream and gave it to you. You made jokes, laughed out loud and hugged each other. It was business as usual. Everything in the world was fine.

Wanna get tagged? Drop an ask or head to my bio.

Jensen/Dean tags: @vicariouslythruspn​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @zizzlekwum​ @ashthefirefox​ @outofnowhere82​ @rintheemolion​  @myopiamystical​ @vicmc624​ @imaginationisgrowth

Jared/Sam tags:  @fortheentries​ @vexhye​ @traceyaudette​ 

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #286

“has he lost his mind? can he see or is he blind? can he walk at all, or if he moves, will he fall?”

Do you prefer having carpets or hardwood floors? Hardwood floors. Easier to clean and just looks better imo. When was the last time you took a bath? Is this something you do often or do you prefer taking showers? Not since I was a kid, probably. I don't like baths; it feels dirty. What’s your favorite way to style your hair? Do you do this hairstyle often or is it too much hassle for you? "I can’t style it any way." <<<< Mine is too short, too. Do you have a real or artificial tree at Christmas? We always use artificial. The mess isn't worth it. What’s your favourite snack to make when you watch a movie? Popcorn, of course. Do you prefer the Beatles or the Rolling Stones? The Rolling Stones. The only Beatles' song off the top of my head that I enjoy is "Hey, Jude," while there's a handful of Stones' songs I like. When was the last time you played a game of Monopoly? Did you play until the end or did everyone get fed up and start arguing? I'm pretty sure the last time was the PlayStation version at Jason's house. I don't recall if we finished it or not. Have you ever won money on a scratch card or the lottery? How much did you win and what did you spend it on? Maybe like, $10 or so? Mom or Dad would buy one for the hell of it rarely, and they always let us kids scratch it off because we thought it was fun for whatever reason. Have you been on a plane before? Where was the last place you travelled to? Yeah, multiple times. I went to Illinois last to stay with Sara for a couple weeks. Would you rather do a wordsearch or a crossword? Wordsearch. What’s your favorite colour of skittles? Red, duh. I always save those for last. Do you have a favorite TV detective (eg. Sherlock, Poirot)? What is it that you like about them? Does Dean Winchester count? I loved him when I was into Supernatural. He was so charismatic, funny, a wonderful big brother, and don't forget hot as fuck lmao. Were you ever in any positions of responsibility when you were in school? No. Do you need to wear glasses or contacts? How long have you needed to wear those for? I'd had glasses since high school. I'm blind as a mf. Do you talk in your sleep? Yes. Ocean or pool? Pool. Cleaner and less risk. I'll swim in either, though. What's your favorite song at the moment? "DEGRADE" by "3TEETH." I've been hooked on them lately. Ever met anyone famous? No. Do you feel that you've had a truly successful life? *blinks* Have you been in love? Absolutely. Where do you wish you were? Sara's would be great. Last thing you spent lots of money on? My Markiplier tattoo. Favorite restaurant? Olive Garden. What is your favorite kind of car? I really dunno. I don't know almost any car by name. I like slick-looking ones, though. AKA expensive ones lmao. What would you honestly do if you had a million dollars? Pay off a lot of things, first of all. For both myself and Mom. I know too well I'd spend a good deal on tats, but I'm quite sure I'd be disciplined enough to know what's more important. Are you more of a shy or outgoing person? I am VERY shy. Would you rather listen to new music or the classics? I tend to listen to music I already know. I go hunting for new bands and songs too rarely... Can you do a cartwheel? lol hell no Do you currently feel any sadness? I always do. Do you always respond to chain letters? I literally never do. I don't care what it's about. They're annoying. Do you spend too much time online? My life is online. It's depressing, and very. I usually don't know what to do with myself if I don't have access to it. What is your biggest annoyance? Right now, people not complying to COVID restrictions to help end this madness. Are you currently in a relationship? No. What do you like to do for fun? Watch YouTube, play WoW, write, read, take pictures... Not a lot. I've been stuck with anhedonia for years; not a lot of things give me any sort of pleasure, even the aforementioned things sometimes. Can you type without looking at the keyboard? Yeah. Do you ever feel like people use you? I've sure as shit felt it before. What role does religion play in your life? None. It's honestly a place of bitterness. Can you sleep with your eyes open? Noooooooo, that shit creeps me out. How often (if ever) do you use moisturiser? Pretty much never... but I need to considering my skin is dry as the Sahara. Have you had any of your wisdom teeth removed? What was the reason? (eg. infection, impaction, lack of space). No. What was the reason for your last hospital visit? I visited Mom after her surgery. Do you use a laptop, desktop, tablet or phone to take your surveys? Laptop. Do you have any debt? If so, are you on top of paying it all back? College debt, for sure. I dropped out three different times. No, I'm nowhere near on top of it. How often do you travel by public transport? Never. Do you have an Instagram account? If so, how often do you post on there and what kind of things do you post? I have three, haha. I don't post on any regularly enough... but I use my first one most. My "main" one is my primary photography one, and I have a second photography account for my darker/roadkill/"vulture culture" work. Lastly I made one for my pets... yes, I decided to be one of those people lmao. Are you close to your extended family? Do you wish you were closer? Definitely not, but we want to try to get closer. In Grammy's last days, she shared that she wished we were more "together" so much. Do you prefer to give your pets human names or not? Definitely not human names, at least usually. Have you ever used a fire extinguisher? Would you know how to use one without reading the instructions? No; I doubt it. What’s the worst thing you’ve ever had to deal with at your job? When I worked, impatient customers. What was the last thing you used your mobile phone for? Listening to music. While my laptop is kaput, I'm using an old one, but it's super slow so I'm just using my phone for music and videos. Did you used to play The Sims? What version or expansion pack was your favorite one to play? I loved the animals one; I went through a period of playing that a loooot. There was also an African wildlife one that I had, but that one was pretty boring, honestly. I never got into the human ones. What quality do you value most highly in others? Probably compassion. Who has made the biggest sacrifice for you? Mom. What was your best find from a flea market, garage sale, ebay or thrift? I got an AWESOME shipwreck w/ a sea serpent nightlight from the flea market once. What is one selfish thing you tend to do? Uhhhh I'm unsure. I try not to be selfish. Have you ever written a letter to a soldier? No, but man does this make me think of "Travelin' Soldier." I love that song so much, man. Always have. What do you use batteries for the most often? Ha, it used to be my mouse, but now that I have one that plugs up to the computer to charge, idk. What’s the smallest thing you’ve ended a relationship over? "I don’t think I’ve ended any kind of relationship over something small." <<<< Would you rather order a starter (appetiser) or a dessert? Or would you be able to manage a full three courses? It really depends on what I want and how hungry I am. If I had the first two though, I almost certainly couldn't handle a dessert. Have you or a member of your family been diagnosed with COVID yet? My older sister had it very badly to the point she wound up in the ER. It's no fucking joke. Aside from the necessities (eating, breathing etc.) what is something you do every single day, without fail? I was going to say “get on the computer” or something of the sort, but what if I don’t have access to technology that day for whatever reason? In that case, I’d think of Jason to some point. There isn’t a day that passes when he’s not lurking in my head somewhere. Is there anything you enjoy that’s considered childish for your age? What is it? Roleplaying. Some shows. I’m sure there’s plenty others. How many times a day do you use the bathroom? A LOT. If I’m drinking something, a lot of the time, I almost immediately have to go pee after a single sip. Do you need caffeine to wake up in the morning? What’s your drink of choice? I wouldn’t say I NEED it, no. I do regularly have my Mountain Dew in the morning in place of coffee tho lmao. That’s out of habit, though. Do you live somewhere with lots of livestock or wild animals? Livestock, absolutely. Wild animals, sure, so long you’re not right in a city. Well, even then, roadkill isn’t rare. Would you rather live somewhere rural or urban? RURAL. Mom and I are both having trouble adjusting to living in the suburbs. The only good thing is we’re closer to everything. Is there anything (a hobby, for example) that’s guaranteed to always make you feel better when you’ve had a bad day? Not absolutely without fail. If you’re struggling with your mental health, who are you most likely to open up to, or would you bottle it up instead? I VERY rarely bottle it up. That is so unhealthy. I confide in my mom, usually. What room of your house do you spend the most time in? Is this through choice or necessity? Ugh, my bedroom… but yeah, it’s choice. I COULD be in the kitchen or living room on the laptop, I just don’t want to for privacy’s sake. I’m waiting for the extra bedroom to be cleaned out to turn that into like my “dayroom” or “office.” I’m putting a desk in there, lots of motivational stuff, just things to inspire me to work. I NEED away from my bed. I only want to use it to sleep. If you have pets, do you snuggle with them when you’re having a bad time? Does it make you feel better? Well, it’s hard to “snuggle” with a snake, but I’ll still take her out sometimes and she gets comfortable against me for warmth. I do however definitely snuggle with my cat Roman, because he’s a total cuddlebug and super affectionate with me. How would you rate Stephen King as a writer? Shockingly, I haven’t read a novel by him. However, knowing stories he’s written and his genre, I think I’d absolutely love him. What movie are you looking forward to? Oh goodness, I have no idea. I’m totally out of touch with movies. Have you been to see an opera? No, they don’t appeal to me. What do you wish that you knew with more certainty? My career success. Of the following things, which would you most like to have more of? Drink, dreams, bed, drugs, lust, lies, hate, love, fear, fun, pain, flesh, stars, smiles, fame, sex: Love, of course. Would you ever consider working for the government? Absolutely not. What are the best and worst television channels? I don’t need to even watch television to tell you Discovery is best. Idk about worst. If you had a magical pencil and everything you drew became real what would you draw? Hm… if I drew like, Earth overlayed with a peace symbol, would that cause world peace? What would you like to touch? A wild (well, habituated) meerkat. Meerkats are just… so important in my life. Without them, I wouldn’t have met people who’ve greatly affected and even changed my life. I know the day I (hopefully) hold or pet one will be one where I cry. Does anything you own glow in the dark? I don’t know. Would you rather ride a dragon or a unicorn? Who the hell would answer “unicorn” to this???? Dragons are so so so superior. Can you make a balloon animal? No. How many glasses of water do you drink each day? Rarely more than two, if even that. What do you like in a poem, accessibility, crypticness, or something in between? I guess of these options, leaving some cryptic space, room for the reader to imagine. What I cherish most in poetry though is descriptiveness, but not to an excessive point where it’s just hard to understand. Who do you find yourself in constant conflict with? Why the conflict? MYSELF. I’m just so mad at and disappointed with myself. What subjects do you refuse to talk about? Why are you hiding from them? I mean, none, really. With some people I’m willing to talk about whatever topic. Greatest black and white film: Idk, I can’t recall enough. Greatest film three hours or longer: Troy. I adore that movie. I should watch it again…

[valkyrieofthehighfae]

The Therapist Sessions: Session 1

Summery: A series of side events that take place during my fic Be My Sin. We follow Valkyrie along her path of recovery and going into therapy to discuss her traumatic past. Warnings: Mentions of drug use, plastic surgery, alcohol use, dubcon relationship, gaslighting, abuse, 18+ only loves Word Count: 1.3k Part 1 of an ongoing series

“Astrid Nightdancer?” A soft voice beckoned me into their office, a cushy, calming room that was sparsely decorated with therapy crap and cushy pillows and shit. I was beginning to question why I’d come after taking a seat on the gently worn couch, looking around with mild disinterest.

“It’s Valkyrie. I don’t use my birth name.” I grumbled after a moment, moving my gaze to the man across from me, taking him in. He had that dad look to him, but with long, blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail and tattoos peeking out from under his shirt. Maybe if there were young and hip dads, he’d be one.

“Right, got it. Thanks for correcting me, Valkyrie. I’m Oberyn Lorarie, but you can call me Ryn.” He held a hand out and I took it cautiously, shaking it firmly.

“Uh… cool.” I have a short nod, quickly yanking my hand back and putting it in my lap, not really sure about what I should be doing.

“You seem tense. This your first time seeing a therapist?” He was soft spoken, easy going, and I nodded.

“That obvious, huh? Sorry. Just nervous I guess.” I gave a half hearted laugh and a vague smile. He nodded serenely, a soft smile on his handsome face.

“That’s totally normal. We’ll start today just getting to know each other. How’s that sound?” He set aside his datapad and leaned back in his chair. I wasn’t sure what to make of him yet, but so far he didn’t seem too terrible I guessed. I’d play along for now, see where it went.

“Yeah. Okay. Sure.” I finally relented and fished out a pack of smokes. “You mind if I smoke?” He shook his head and gave me the go ahead to light up. It was a bad habit, but one I didn’t do too often, figuring every once in a while would be fine.

“So, Valkyrie, let’s start simple. Where were you born?” He jumped right in, eager to begin things.

“Dandoran. Was pretty young when I left, so I don’t really remember much about the place except that it rained a lot.” I muttered, exhaling smoke. He nodded thoughtfully, smiling a little; he clearly was itching to type this into his datapad. “Look, doc -”

“Ryn.”

“.... right. Ryn. If you wanna write this crap down, by all means do whatever your little therapist heart needs to do.” I was disdainful, sneering a little. He took the pad back up and began writing with his stylus.

“Dandoran… huh. Heard it’s not a bad place for being in Hutt space. Minus the cartels.” He was smiling, joking, and I couldn’t help but grin back a little bit, a ghost of a smile just passing over my face.

“Yeah, the cartels are a problem. I guess. Like I said, don’t remember much of the place, I was like, seven when Ivar and I left.” I tapped the cigarette to knock loose some extra ashes gathered in an ashtray he handed me.

“Ivar, now who’s he? Your dad?” Ryn glanced up, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

“Gross, no. He’s my oldest brother.” I choked on my smoke, coughing hard. “Our parents and other brothers died back on Dandoran. Some sort of cartel bullshit. Ivar still won’t talk to me about it, just says I don’t need to know.” I tamped out what was left of my cigarette in the ashtray with a shrug. Ryn seemed surprised but held back, waiting for me to take the lead on this.

“If you’re not ready to talk about them yet, we can save it for another session.” He offered and I shrugged again.

“Bold of you to assume there will be another session.” I lit up another cigarette and took a drag on it.

“That’s fair. Well, what do you do for a living?” He was disgustingly supportive and I resisted the urge to flick ashes at him, tapping them out on the side of the ashtray instead.

“You’re gonna laugh your ass off at this one,” I snorted, lifting the cigarette. “I’m a combat medic with the GAR.” Chuckling, I pulled another drag on the cigarette and exhaled the smoke, watching it curl up towards the ceiling. Ryn actually laughed and it was loud but full of warmth, a comforting sound.

“You’re a combat medic and you smoke? The irony in the situation doesn’t escape me. Do you work with a specific battalion?” Ryn’s emerald green eyes were glittering with amusement and I couldn’t help but grin back at him with a shrug.

“Technically I’m stationed with the 501st, but as a civvie combat medic, I go where I’m needed, so I’ve worked with the 212th, the 104th, pretty much every battalion there is. Torrent Company in the 501st is my main company that I’m with, though.” I loved to talk about my guys; they were my closest friends I had. “These guys are like my family, but I’m closest to the other medic, Kix, Fives and Echo, the two new guys, Hardcase, Jesse, and Captain Rex. They’re good guys, hard working, funny as all hell, and I dunno what I’d do without ‘em. People get pissed about it cuz they’re clones, which is fucked on so many levels. Who fuckin’ cares man? They’re good men.”

“I’m picking up on some anger about the way the clones are treated. Do you feel comfortable discussing that?”

“I mean, it’s fucked isn’t it? These guys didn’t ask to be made and shoved into some war that really has nothing to do with them. And then people have the fuckin’ audacity to treat them like shit? Like, what the fuck is that? You know? They don’t get wages, they don’t get rights, hell a lot of these fuckin’ Jedi fucks treat them like they’re expendable. It’s bullshit! These guys are real fucking humans for fucks sake! They live and breathe and hurt and love like the rest of us. They’ve got hearts that beat the same in their chests. They lose their brothers and don’t even get the time to mourn over them.” I was up on my feet, pacing, anger boiling in my blood as I discussed the guys. I despised how they were treated by people, it was sickening.

“I imagine seeing it all up close and personal you get to see a different perspective on things. Can’t be easy shouldering all of that. That anger seems like it’s a lot for just being angry over how the clones are treated, though. Can we touch on that?” Ryn had gotten up to make a cup of caf and I shook my head when he offered me a cup.

“I don’t know what you want me to say man. I’m angry. I’ve always been angry. It’s what fuels me and keeps me going. I do everything that I’ve done out of spite.” I snapped, bitter, and sat back down on the couch again, foot tapping on the carpet.

“Somehow I don’t buy that. You’ve clearly been through quite a bit and it’s festered from keeping it bottled up. Think of it like this: it’s an infection and what do you do when you face infections in your patients?” He was leaning forward in his chair, hands clasped together, watching me intently.

“I find the source and treat it accordingly. Sometimes that means medication other times I have to dig it out and then administer medication.” I muttered, getting at what he was hinting at. My anger was like an infection that needed to be dug out and healed.

“Exactly and I think you and I both know what the comparison is here. So instead of fighting me on it, why not let me help you the way you help your patients? If you really just don’t think you’re making any progress after a couple of sessions, we can quit and go about our lives. How’s that sound?” He held his hand out and I stared at it for a moment, thinking it over before slowly reaching out and shaking his hand.

“Alright, fine. Where do we begin?”

[mrs-hollandstan]

Make Me Love You || Frat Boy!Tom [one]

Pairing: Frat Boy!Tom x Student!Reader

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, mentions of sex that almost aren't mentions of sex, fuckboy Tom, mentions of domestic issues, a small confrontation

Word Count: 7,299

Author's Note: The teaser did really well for it being a teaser and I am SO glad. If you enjoy, lemme know what you think of it! 

Series Masterlist || Add yourself to one of my taglists

There are drastic differences between Los Angeles and Seattle like the weather, traffic, even the population, but there are also many similarities that make a transition from one city to the next, just the smallest bit easier. They always say that finding friends in Seattle is harder because the non-stop gloom, for a record breaking five months straight makes the locals reclusive. Of course, the heat in LA makes people just as reclusive, but the chance of meeting someone with your interests and mentality in the nearly 4 million population is more likely and easier to obtain compared to Seattle's 742,000. That is of course if you don't have ties already in one of the cities already.

One of the easiest transitioning factors for you, transferring from a community college in Los Angeles to a four year college up north in Seattle was your older brother Cole, who'd seemingly abandoned the half assed family you claimed and the muggy city the both of you had grown up in. It was nothing personal against you and you knew that, but the new person your father had become after the death of your mother shifted the feeling of your once love filled, perfect family, home to hostile and toxic. Your father and Cole hadn't gotten along the few months leading up to Cole leaving for Seattle and as you neared the transfer period for college, it was either tagging along with your dad and his new girlfriend to busy New York, or reunite with Cole after two long years and live in chilly Seattle. Not that either were a bad idea, but it came down to which of the men you grew up around was more tolerable and which school was best for you and your major. The end choice was Cole and Seattle, both of which seemed to invite you with open arms.

The plane ride saw a lot of rain and landing in a cold and dreary Seattle airport to be met with the soft, kind features of your older brother was something that excited and comforted you. His muscular arms encircled you and you squealed as he sighed, holding your body extremely close with a kiss to your temple. After gathering the rest of your belongings that hadn't already been shipped to Cole's house, he leads you out to the same car he drove up in, driving you to the small house you'd only seen in pictures and showing you to what would be your room when you stayed with him and not in your dorm with the roommates you'd already started conversing with. Despite being very protective and loving, Cole was willing to let you take the reigns on your own life and make all the adult decisions needed to get you your degree, whilst also supporting you and providing you the necessities to live if need be. Because he knew what it was like to be pressured and he made damn sure that you would never feel that with him. Which is part of the reason you chose him and Seattle over your father and Manhattan.

                                                        ---

"So you said you've already talked to these girls like via text? They're cool? Because-"

"I have your place if I need it and I can always transfer to a different university if I feel pressured. I know Coleslaw." You complete your older brother's statement, his eyebrows knitting in a line at the nickname as you glance over your shoulder at him. You smile and bump his shoulder as you carry a box up towards your dorm room, navigating the endless, tan hallways of a place you'll be calling a second home for the next two years.

"Yes Cole, I'm in a group chat with the three of them. We're already good friends and I haven't even moved in yet." You explain to him as he hauls two more boxes after you, pausing to bring his knee up and get a more firm grip on the boxes in his hands. Dark curls fall onto his forehead, escapees from the mop atop his head that you've been begging him to cut for two months,

"What are their names? I-I can only remember Scarlett." He asks, hazel eyes trained on the bobbing lid of the top box he holds. You nod,

"Scarlett, Phoebe, and Ivey. Supposedly one of them has a boyfri- oh my god I'm so sorry!" You squeal, bouncing back into your brother who has the wind knocked out of him as you run into the front of a tall, dirty blonde boy, stunning crystalline eyes darting between you and Cole,

"S'alright love, no harm done. To me at least." The boy speaks up in a thick British accent, punctuating the statement with a chuckle as he watches Cole lean your boxes against a wall, supporting them on a knee again. He gives a tight lipped smile to the other boy as you glance between them,

"Sorry... I should really watch where I'm going." You reply through a small laugh. The blonde shakes his head as he looks down, chuckling softly, playfully,

"I'm alright. Came around the corner a little fast. You're all good." You nod and smile, brushing past him. You turn to each other, flashing one more kind smile before he passes Cole with a small greeting and heads down the hall you just came up. Cole nods at the boy before sighing and rolling his eyes,

"If that was your first introduction to college, I'd hate to see what the rest of it consists of." He mumbles. Narrowing your eyes, you cock you head and gesture to the boxes now bowing at his weight,

"I knew I shoulda stacked a third on there for you." You joke. He cocks his head, mockingly laughing along with you before he gestures down the hall and starts to follow again, watching you pause and check a small piece of paper in your hand before knocking at a grey door. It swings open with almost no time in between and a girl about your height with ombre hair that goes from an almost black to auburn and blonde at the tips and down the front of her shoulders, smiles,

"Y/N?" She asks as you set the box you carry on the floor and nod, her smile widening before she steps out into the hallway and pulls you into a hug, rocking you back and forth and squealing,

"Its about time you showed up." She says. Leaning back, she glances over your shoulder at Cole,

"Come on in you guys, your room's the first room on the right." She says as you step aside for Cole and follow him in once you pick up your own abandoned box. He sets the two he carries on the tan carpet, placing his hands on his hips with a sigh,

"Its nice. It's real open." He says as you set your own box beside his. You nod and smile, turning to your roommates as they crowd in the room. The two other girls share their hugs with you as Phoebe introduces herself to Cole now that she's already met you both at the front door. Ivey's skin is tan and the dark brown hair that's cut to rest at her shoulders, frames a beautiful, caked face that sparkles with every move. Scarlett's dark skin is just as shiny and beautiful as Ivey's and her hair is tied up with a bandana wrapped around the crown of her head. They stand back, one of Scarlett's hands in yours, one of Ivey's hands rested on your arm as you have your first, in person interaction with them. The small group shifts to Phoebe and Cole, Ivey and Scarlett introducing themselves to the taller boy. You stand in a small, comfortable circle before Scarlett sighs,

"Well... you're getting your first taste of peer pressure. We're taking you to a frat party tonight. It's like their little intro party before club rush and initiation and all that. This party sort of shows guys what its like before they make the pledge." She explains, watching you nod. Cole scoffs,

"Like she'll need the peer pressure. Can she pledge? She could be there keg king." He jokes, making the other girls in the room laugh as you look at him and mockingly laugh,

"Oh ha ha, wonder where I learned that shit? Got it from my party animal big brother." You say, watching Cole stick his tongue out as you playfully punch his ribs. He chuckles and runs the area before heading for the door,

"Why don't you guys finish getting acquainted and get Y/N comfortable while I get the two other boxes." He says. You nod, as do the other girls before he leaves the room and the three of them turn back to you,

"Are you excited? Finally living on campus and getting into that college life. Its cool right?" Ivey asks. You nod,

"Yeah, it's a little scary being... away from home, but LA isn't even where my dad is living anymore so, home is technically here now. Mostly with Cole but... here too, with the three of you." You nervously explain. They all smile at you as you look between them, already warm and inviting. Phoebe holds her hand out and you take it, letting her pull you through your door and further down the hall. She points to a closed door on the left at the very end of the hallway,

"My room," She says as she opens it to show off an already decorated and beautiful white room, fairy lights lining the roof, "this is where we have movie nights cause I have a projector." She says, her nose crinkling. You nod and smile, spinning on your heels to follow her as she opens the door across from her own,

"Scarlett's room. This is where you'll most likely find hair or makeup products you need. Maybe your own, who knows." She jokes, smiling wider as Scarlett scoffs and you look around the room, nodding at the organized vanity and makeup selection set up strategically in a corner of the room. Leaving that door open as well, Phoebe brushes past you to open the second door down,

"Bathroom. Nothing too special. We kinda all share body washes and toothpastes and stuff. It's a community." Phoebe says with a shrug, closing the door before walking to the room just across from yours,

"And here," She says in a sigh, "is Ivey's room. She's got a boyfriend so... we have to warn you in advance that any howling or screaming you hear isn't a virgin being sacrificed, it's just Ivey and her thing. Also, we have to warn that anything you find that might be disturbing is... grounds for therapy so, we're here for you." She jokes yet again, laying a hand over your shoulder. You giggle as Ivey swipes a hand over her face, mumbling explicits and disgraced words. She crosses her arms with a flat expression,

"We very rarely do anything here and there is nothing that we do that will get us caught by any of you. In the two years we've lived together, I have never been caught." She explains. You, Scarlett, and Phoebe smile and giggle at her before she swallows,

"We haven't been caught here at least. But to be fair, his brothers are nosey and don't knock." She justifies as the other two girls giggle and snicker. You frown,

"Brothers?" You quiz. Ivey nods, moving back and forth from her toes to her heels,

"He's in a frat. The frat party we're going to tonight, it's his frat." She explains. You nod and turn to Scarlett as she starts to speak,

"His brothers are pretty hot but goddamn they're like little boys. Some of them have that whole douchebag thing goin, but for the most part they're all pretty hot." She says with a wink. You nod again as she looks you over, glancing up when Cole returns with two more boxes,

"You don't happen to have a smashing dress to wear in those boxes, do you?" Scarlett asks. You shrug, glancing back at Cole when he emerges from your room before you turn back the the group with a shake of your head,

"Guess not. I have some cute clothes but I don't know if they're frat boy impressing worthy." You say. The girls smile as Cole sighs behind you,

"We're already looking for frat boys to impress?" He asks, somewhat breathless. You shrug,

"Ivey's boyfriend is part of the frat that's throwing the party tonight and the girls all say his brothers are pretty good looking." You explain. He nods, looking between the four of you. Scarlett cocks her head,

“You’re so much more willing and open-minded than most older brothers who hear this kinda stuff talked about with their younger sisters.” She says. His eyes linger on her for a moment before he shrugs,

“I’m living my own life. I don’t have time to live vicariously through her too.” He says. You smile, binding your arms around his waist. He kisses your temple,

“BUT… I will kill someone that hurts her. I will kill a frat guy.” He adds making the girls smile. You glance up at him, crinkling your nose. There’s a moment of silence before Phoebe sighs,

"Well, going back to the outfit thing, if you wanna borrow some of our clothes to piece together a rockin outfit, you're more than welcome. We can take you shopping soon." She says. You smile and nod, thanking the group collectively before Cole reaches up to rub your shoulders,

"Wanna come get your bag from my car, walk me out?" He asks. You nod, turning with him and following him down the same hallways as before until you're standing at the curb, closing the passenger side door after retrieving your duffel and regular backpack. Cole sighs, hands tucked in his pockets,

"So when do I get custody?" He jokes. You smile, playfully leaning in to punch his stomach this time,

"I'll uhh... I'll come back Sunday maybe. I dunno yet. Depends on how I cope with all this new life stuff." You say with a shrug. He nods, chewing the inside of his cheek. He looks up, searching your face for a moment as you think,

"Just have fun tonight if you go. Let loose and make new friends, ya know? Don't think that college is strictly academic. But... just be careful. Don't set your drink down anywhere, anything like that. Ya never know who you're dealin with." He warns. You nod along to him, rolling your eyes,

"Common sense Cole." You say. He nods, pulling you into him, arms wrapped around your shoulders,

"I know, I know, but if you're drugged the first day you're here with me, dad'll most definitely force you up there in New York." He tells you. Holding him with your arms wrapped around his waist, you sigh,

"I'm not gettin drugged. I'll be careful." You reason. He nods again, kissing your temple before he releases you,

"Just do me a favor and text me when you go places if you can remember. Try to remember to text me like... at least five times a day so I know you're alive." You smile up at your mother hen like older brother who holds your hand, dragging out the last few moments you have together, today. You purse your lips,

"Yeah Cole, I will. When dad texts me asking if I'm alive every twenty minutes I'll make sure to shoot you a text." He chuckles softly,

"Alright, good. I love you." You stand on your toes to kiss his cheek,

"Love you too. I'll maybe see you Sunday." You remind. He nods as he let's go of your hand and starts to round the car,

"Maybe Sunday." He repeats before climbing into his car and starting it, driving off as you stand at the curb. Despite the short distance from his house to the college, your heart aches a little. Not just because he's leaving you after only having you in his home for a day and a half, but because after he left California, you two practically never talked. He texted you and called you every once in a while but that older brother that you talked about was all a myth once he came to Seattle and you were fearful of the same thing happening this time around.

Not dwelling on it to long, you make your trip back up to your dorm room with ease, nudging the door open with your shoulder. As you kick the front door closed and head down the hall, Ivey peeks her head out of her room, smiling at you. The rest of her body appears and she sighs,

"We're all just gonna be in our rooms. When you're ready you can come raid our closets. Something cute that shows you're available but still shows that you... mean business." She explains with a shrug. You nod and set your bags just inside the door,

"Cool. Thanks. I uhm... I'm gonna do some unpacking you say, suddenly nervous now that Cole's comfort and protection isn't there. She smiles again, nodding back,

"We're leavin here at six thirty, just be ready, okay?" You give a silent okay back before heading into your own room and unpacking what you can before they bombard you with twenty questions on what you're wearing. Settling on an oversized jean jacket and white tube top from Ivey and an army green suede skirt from Scarlett, the four of you are taking mirror selfies and heading out to Scarlett's car in record time, your heart thumping loudly in pure nerves as you head into the unknown. The second you pull up in front of the Psi Sigma Tau frat house, you seem to get lightheaded as your nerves amp up. Climbing from the car, Ivey rubs your shoulders,

"The boys are gonna love you. And trust us... none of them are... too bad of assholes. Tom is probably the worse but he won't fuck with new blood." Ivey informs. You nod, following Scarlett and Phoebe up to the open front door, watching Scarlett open the screen door and walk inside, the three of them never leaving you as they lead you to the kitchen. A group of boys turn, one of them, the same you and Cole ran into earlier. He smiles as Ivey approaches him, wrapping her in his arms. They share a kiss before he looks up, eyebrows furrowing as he spots you,

"You ran into me earlier." He reminds you, watching a smile cover your face as Ivey looks to you and he chuckles,

"You did?" She asks. You nod, tucking your hands in the pockets of the jean jacket you wear,

"Uhh, yeah, I did. Cole and I were coming around a corner, the same time he was and I bumped into him." You reminisce, your cheeks burning at the thought of always seeing him now that you know one of your roommates is dating him when you made a complete ass of yourself. He chuckles again, draping his arm around Ivey's shoulders as she wraps her arms around his lean torso,

"'S alright. I told you that already. No harm, no foul." He says, smirk never leaving his lips as his frost colored eyes linger on you. You smile and nod as Ivey sighs, reaching up to proudly place her hand over his stomach,

"This is my boyfriend, Harrison. He and his best friend Tom came here together from London." She explains, looking up at him. His eyes pull away from you to look down at her. He purses his lips as he hums, satisfied,

"Got watched by this one in English so I snatched her up. Left Tom as eligible bachelor. He was pretty pissed about that one but," he glances up at you again, "he's a little bit of a ladies man. Decent enough to be the douchebag one night stand guy." He says. You nod to show that you've been listening before Harrison looks you over,

"And… not that he has a particular type or anything, but you fit the curriculum for someone he'd be into." He adds. You shake your head,

"I'm not a one night stand type of girl. If anything, I want a boyfriend. So," you look around the kitchen and living room, "which one is Tom so I know to steer clear?" You ask, letting Phoebe turn you and point through the small crowd that's already started to form in the dark, strobe lit living room. Through it, you can see a perky blonde in a tight dress leaned against a wall, talking to a striking young brunette, tight fitted tee and jeans clinging to every muscular limb that he has to offer, a black cap hanging off his head, backwards, his cute yet prominent ears poking up past the hat. You swallow your tongue at the sight of him. He's gorgeous and you can already tell that it's easier said than done with that one when it comes to steering clear of him. As if he can hear your thoughts, he glances up, spotting you and Phoebe. Your heart stops as a smile crosses his lips and he waves softly, excusing himself from the blonde to head your way. Phoebe hums before releasing you and stepping forward to hug him when he steps into the kitchen. He sets his drink down on the counter, pressing his free hand to her lower back, the two of them talking back and forth, too quiet for you to hear over the music. All you can do is stare at his beautiful face in the new light.

He truly is stunning, cream colored face stealing your breath straight from your lungs. His skin, specifically his somewhat crooked nose and full cheeks are littered with cocoa colored freckles. He practically lacks an upper lip, but his bottom lip is somewhat plump and berry colored, kissable if need be. His nose is perfect despite the bend and cute, but his eyes are what really set you off. He has beautiful dark brown eyes that are accentuated through long, angelic lashes that flutter every few words uttered from his lips or to him from Phoebe's and they almost meet his thick, trimmed eyebrows, the end of one of them tapering up wildly. His forehead is nearly covered by the dark brown hair that is voluminous and fluffy and looks completely inviting despite the snapback he wears.

His eyes cut to you suddenly like he can feel yours on him, a soft, almost demonic, hungry smile crossing his face as his tongue comes out to wet his lips. The shift in focus to you has Phoebe turning to face you, eyes still locked on Tom to gauge his reactions to you. His adam's apple bobs as he swallows, looking you over, the piercing dark eyes he's blessed with making you feel small in that one moment. And then he speaks in a somewhat deep voice enriched with a similar, tranquilizing European accent to Harrison's that makes your knees weak,

"And who do we have here?" You're broken from your thoughts by him. Phoebe turns to you,

"This is Y/N, Tom. It's the roommate Scar, Ivey, and I were talking about coming in today. She's at her first frat party ever." She replies, sultrily as Tom's eyebrows raising,

"Wow, look at you darling. Little daredevil like your roomies. Well... welcome. Your girls are some of the best here, I suppose you won't be any different." He directs to you. You swallow and smile, watching Phoebe cock her head,

"He doesn't bite Y/N." She says, her hand pressed to his stomach similar to the way Ivey did to Harrison. Tom closes his mouth to give a tight lipped smile,

"Unless you want me to." He jokes making Phoebe giggle. You nod and reach up to tuck hair behind your ear,

"Sorry... uhm... yeah, I wasn't gonna not come. I actually... think I need a drink." You say, suddenly flushed. Tom hums, looking over your shoulder,

"Why don't we slam some shots then, yeah?" He poses, pressing his hand to your lower back when you nod and follow, watching him and Phoebe pour out a row of shots. The three of you, Harrison, Scarlett, Ivey and a few other boys raise them. Phoebe sighs,

"To our ever growing group of friends." She says. You all say cheers before clinking the glasses and downing your shots. Most of the group shivers and retches at the sting, but you and Tom are primarily the only ones that don't and you don't catch it, but Tom watches you, his heart skipping a beat when all you do is set the shot glass down and lick your lips to ensure you got all of the alcohol your glass contained. You sigh before looking up wide eyed at Tom when he snaps at you,

"You're my kinda girl, get your pretty little ass over here and let's do a shot together." He demands. You glance around the group that's starting to break out into laughter before snorting,

"What?" The group laughs along with you, Tom's own face turning up into a smile,

"You didn't even flinch when you took that. Most people do. I like when a girl doesn't overreact. So let's take another shot together." He elaborates. After another moment, you nod, switching spots with Phoebe and watching Tom pour two more shots before he hands you one. You take it, only to have him lock arms with you, raising his eyebrows before the both of you throw your shots back, only hissing as it burns your chests. He steps back, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he looks at you again,

"Where the fuck have you been all my life?" He asks. You giggle, taking an opened beer from Scarlett and raising it to your lips,

"California, little British boy." You reply back snarkily, raising your eyebrows as he does, letting him watch you take a swig from the bottle you hold. A beer is offered to Tom, but he shakes his head,

"Nah, I got a game Sunday morning. With my luck I'll still be hungover for it,  won't be able to focus." He explains, his attention shifting to the party in full swing out in the living room. You walk to lean back against the counter beside Ivey, the both of you leaning so she can be the only one to hear you whisper.

"Game? So he's the stereotypical douchebag frat boy that plays football or something?" You pose. She giggles, shaking her head,

"No, he's actually pretty cool, really. He and Haz play golf so they a game Sunday. I should force you to come so we can support them." She replies with a knowing smile. You hum, sipping more from your beer bottle as Phoebe and Scarlett talk Tom up, allowing you to get a better view of him without him knowing you're staring. You swallow, Ivey giggling again as she watches you watch him. You glance at her, searching her face,

"What?" You ask. She shakes her head,

"Nothin. Need a distraction from a cute little British boy?" She asks, raising an eyebrow. You nod quickly, Ivey moving from under Harrison's arm, tugging him after her and headed straight for Scarlett and Phoebe,

"Girl dilemma ladies, its dance time." She informs the two other girls, both of their eyes landing on you before they nod and the group is excused from Tom to the middle of the living room where you find your rhythm with your roommates and Harrison, you holding Scarlett's arms around you as the two of you start to dance together.

Unbeknownst to you, Tom never strayed far. After the group abandoned him, he wandered to lean against the kitchen's doorway, eyes glued to your figure, lost in the music and your roommates. You've forgotten about him temporarily, but his mind is still fixed on you. He can't believe that the one girl that he wants more than anything just based off the concoction of sheer beauty, intelligence, boldness and valor, has just almost brushed him off. Most girls throw themselves at him and he doesn't have to ask for it, but you're different. And that's what attracts Tom the most. You're independent, tenacious and confident. You know what you want and he knows that you're the type to get it, thanks to your dad's own stubbornness you seemed to have inherited. If you were any other girl, he could've had his quick fix and been onto the next, but the way you entice him without even meaning to is what draws him in and keeps him in your clutches.

"Its impolite to stare." Another frat brother, Jeremiah jokes, bumping Tom's shoulder and effectively breaking him from his thoughts. His eyes don't leave you, but he licks his lips, Jeremiah following his eyes to your figure. Jeremiah hums,

"Who's the new girl?"

"Her name's Y/N." Tom replies almost immediately. Jeremiah blinks in surprise at the suddenness, looking Tom over. His eyes sparkle in the rainbow strobe lights that light the living room up as he watches you dance with your roommates. Jeremiah chuckles, Tom finally looking at him,

"What?" He asks. Jeremiah shrugs,

"You're the type to seduce a girl, take her to bed for one night and never talk to her again and here you are starin at this one like a fuckin tiger watchin a gazelle. What's so special about her?" Jeremiah asks. Tom shrugs, crossing his arms,

"She didn't even... care about me. Did two shots together and she didn't even care about how I started to come onto her." He mutters. Jeremiah hums, sipping the concoction in his cup, eyes crinkling at the sting,

"So she's smart. She stays away from you, she doesn't have to deal with the shit." Tom clicks his tongue, frowning as he looks at Jeremiah again,

"I'm not that bad."

"You made Delilah Rhodes cry like a middle schooler two weeks ago because you didn't call her back and she'd given you everything, including her virginity. You told her that you'd always be there for her just to get into her pants and the second you did, you dropped her." Jeremiah recalls, eyes finding you the same Tom's do. You're prettier than some of the girls Tom chooses. But he knows Tom. The second he gets you into his bed, he'll get over you. But it's about getting you there that Tom's obsessed with. Seducing you, knowing he's good enough to get any girl he wants and if he can't have you, his ego is gonna suffer a severe beating. Tom nods after a moment,

"I know, I remember." He replies nonchalantly. Jeremiah scoffs,

"What makes her different than Delilah then? Why couldn'tyou have stayed with her?" He asks. Tom's eyes linger on you for a few moments more before he looks to Jeremiah, eyes sparkling in mischief as he clears his throat,

"She doesn't want me right now like all the other girls, including Delilah did. You get that girl a little tipsy and she's out." He informs. Jeremiah looks his friend over, watching his attention divert to you again before he looks that way, sighing to himself,

"Poor girl isn't gonna know what hit her when you're done." He mutters, finishing off the drink in his hand before turning to the array of bottles behind him to make a new one. Tom is still entranced by you, unable to pull his eyes from your figure in the almost half an hour. A number of his brothers approach him and leave him to his stalking, and eventually Ivey is the first to spot him staring, leaning back to whisper in Harrison's ear. Gis hands wandering her body as he looks at his best friend, giving you a quick look over before he gives a soft chuckle and let's her lean forward into you, Scarlett, and Phoebe,

"Don't all look at once but... there's a creep watching you, Y/N, at your three o'clock." She informs. Glancing to your right, you catch Tom's eye, watching him lick his lips and purse them before looking away, almost as if he's embarassed that he's been caught. Scarlett clears hair from your shoulder,

"So what's the plan here babes? Are you giving him a show or inviting him?" She asks in your ear. You're panting, breathless from dancing. You let Phoebe slip your jacket from your shoulders, letting it hang in your elbows, her eyes locked in yours. The corners of her lips quirk,

"Fuck him... let him gawk." She says. You nod, holding her hands and feeling Scarlett's hands wander your hips. Your heart beats a little faster and you can't tell if it's because of the fact you're being watched by someone like Tom or because of the way you've been dancing since you got out here. One thing is for certain, you need another drink. Pulling Phoebe's hands, you tell her, watching her nod and hold your hand, leading you in Tom's direction. If he'd claimed that his heart didn't skip a beat when you and Phoebe beelined for him, he'd definitely be lying and he was convinced it showed in his face. Phoebe raised an eyebrow as you passed him, Tom's body turning with you, watching you sort through the alcohol on the counter and pour a drink of your choice in your cup. She leans across the counter across from him, crossing her arms and looking him over as he watches you again.

"Its creepy to stare Tom. Especially if it's a girl that doesn't know how you operate. How do you know she wants to be stared at?"

"There's nothing wrong with looking at her." Tom defends himself, eyes cutting back to her and then to you again when you shift to see the both of them. You look between them before throwing back the alcohol in the bottom of your cup before filling it with more and walking forward,

“So what, I’m like another target for you? New concubine because I don’t know who you are?” You ask. His eyebrows knit together before he scoffs and pushes himself off of the cupboard behind him, turning to face you and Phoebe,

"Did I say that? Just cause I'm looking, doesn't mean I wanna fuck you."

"So if I asked you to take me upstairs to your room, you wouldn't and then tomorrow morning, after I leave, you wouldn't completely ditch me?" You ask, standing against the counter full of alcohol. He looks between you before shaking his head softly,

“What makes you think you're my type to take you upstairs in the first place?"

"Oh please, you'd fuck a hole in a wall Holland." Phoebe chastises. Tom scoffs again, crossing his arms defensively,

"You know what, fuck you both.” He bites back before pushing through the crowd and heading upstairs, disappearing down the hall. You and Phoebe look to each other, your roommate giggling softly before she shakes her head in unsaid words. You feel instant remorse, concluding something about a man you’d just met. You were just following the lead of your girls, but it wasn’t right to be teasing him so early on. Especially when you didn’t know what he actually thought of you. Phoebe waits until you set your cup down to reach out,

“Come on. Forget about it, he’ll get over it.” She says, seeming to read your mind. You’re weary, but you take her hand and follow her back out to the dance floor, finding Scarlett, Ivey, and Harrison immediately,

“What was said?” Ivey asks worriedly, gesturing up the stairs. Harrison is just as interested and as you look between them, Phoebe catches on and steps in front of them, dragging your hands up to her shoulders,

“Drop it. He’s a sensitive little pussy and just like everything else, he’ll get over it.” She replies, eyes locked in yours. You focus back on her and Scarlett as she holds your hips again. And for another hour, you’re lost in the fun of a frat party with your new friends. There’s a dozen songs and a dozen drinks that your small group goes through. Phoebe, presenting herself now as the Tom of your small group discovers a guy that seems to take a liking to her, ditching you and Scarlett, not far, for him. Ivey and Harrison whisper back and forth a few times before they sneak off and its the three of you, plus one, tiredness starting to sink in not long after. You, Scarlett, and Phoebe find solace on a couch, sweaty and panting, Phoebe’s dancing partner long gone. She sighs, checking her phone,

“Should go find Ivey and get out of here.” She says, looking to you and Scarlett. You nod, standing,

“I’ll do it. I have to pee anyways.” You mutter, finding your way to the staircase and to a bathroom. Afterwards, you look between the two closed doors that line the hallway. Choosing the closest to the stairs, it clicks open and you push through it just slightly to peek in. Tom sits at a desk, small side lamp on. He looks up at the disturbance, frowning as you stand there, mouth slightly ajar. He surprised that seeing your face doesn't bother him considering your last interaction. But considering the number of fights he and Phoebe have had and they're still friends, he's not too surprised.

“Oh… uhm… sorry, I was looking for Harrison and Ivey.” You start. He hums and nods in understanding. He gestures over his shoulder with his chin,

“Next door. But uhm… I don’t recommend barging in like that. His headboard’s bumped the wall a few times already and trust me... walking in on them is terrifying. It's not like in the movies. They don't hide it.” He informs. You giggle, nodding, hand tightening around the doorknob as you anticipate what to say next as he focuses back at the work before him for a moment. He glances back up when you don’t move from the room. Swiveling in his chair, he faces you with furrowed brows,

“Was there something else?” He asks. Not wanting to push your boundaries too far, you straighten your body out, closing the door a small bit behind you for more privacy from the drunks in the hallway,

“Yeah. Uhm… I wanted to apologize for earlier. I-I thought it’d just be a joke, what I said, but… it was insensitive. I don’t know you and I’m sorry for joking with you and making it so personal.” You smooth out. He leans forward slightly, clasping his hands together. He gives a gentle nod,

“‘S alright. I shouldn’t have been staring. I was bein a creep.”

“No… no, I don’t mind. It’s kind of endearing and I just… I slandered you. My brother would’ve smacked the shit out of me for that one. So… I’m sorry. Hopefully we can… start over and get off on the right foot.” You clarify. He smiles softly, standing and starting towards you as you lean against the wall at your back. He sighs, pausing a few steps away,

“I appreciate it and I accept your apology. I think you and I will be A okay love. Just gotta get a little more socializing behind us.” He says, somewhat quietly. You smile and nod, pivoting on your feet,

“I like the way that sounds. You seem really cool.” You say. You share a smile, standing staring at each other for a moment. He tucks his hands in his pockets, shoulders tensing as he looks at his feet,

"I do want to officially apologize to you and I want you to accept my apology. It was creepy of me to stare and I shouldn't have been. So I'm sorry for that. I promise not to be a creep in our future endeavors." He swears. You smile and nod, reaching up to tuck hair behind your ear,

"Of course I accept your apology. We're starting over." You reassure, letting silence permeate for a few moments after Tom chuckles and nods  before you sigh,

“Well… I’ll uhh… I’ll see you around then. I gotta… get Ivey.” You remind, watching him nod before you turn and open the door, closing it behind you and heading further down the hall. Knocking at the other closed door, you wait a few minutes until Harrison pulls it open, somewhat breathless and shirtless, skin flushed,

“Hey Y/N, what’s up?”

“Hey, uhm… I’m looking for Ivey. The other girls are ready to go home so… I just thought I’d come and see if she was uhh… ready or anything?” You explain, face reddening at how stupid the explaination sounds considering you know what your roommate and her boyfriend are up to and he knows you know. He smiles, glancing over his shoulder, behind the door,

“Uhm… yeah, I think I’ll bring her home later. We’re kinda busy at the moment.” He responds with a soft chuckle. You swallow and nod, cheeks burning in embarrassment,

"Right, yeah, sorry. Uhm... just... tell her I'll see her later and uhh... goodnight to you." You reply kindly, Harrison nodding and coolly reassuring you he will before he closes the door and leaves you to head back into the crowds downstairs, finding Phoebe and Scarlett, jackets back on and leaned against cabinets, waiting for you. When you approach, they both stand up straight,

"So what's up? Did you join them or something? You were gone a while." Phoebe chastises. You click your tongue, shooting her an unamused look as Scarlett giggles softly,

"No, I ran into Tom before I found them. He and I... cleared things up. We're starting over and giving a friendship another go." You say proudly, both girls nodding, impressed,

"Nice. He's a good friend to have but uhh... you better put your hormones back in their box. You end up as more than friends, he could break your heart." Scarlett warns. You nod, pivoting on your feet and soaking the information in. She sighs to break the silence between the three of you,

"Anyways, let's get home. We're takin you shopping tomorrow once Prince Charming drops Ivey off." She says, headed for the door with you and Phoebe in tow.

It was fun letting loose for the night before classes start. Your welcome party was successful and less drunk and destructive as the movies make it out. Though somewhat dramatic with Tom, you enjoyed meeting new people and establishing relationships you wouldn't have if you'd been a hermit. But Scarlett's words weigh on you somewhat. No matter what, you and Tom would have some sort of relationship. Whether you took the bait or not and spiraled into a love affair with the beautiful curly haired boy would change your life completely. It scared you, but the idea of getting in some trouble excites you and who knows, maybe you could establish a friends with benefits type of relationship with him for a little bit of fun without the stress of a strings attached relationship. To focus on school and all of the other life changing things that were being thrusted your way, maybe it would be nice to have someone to fool around with and rant to if need be. And why not make it the pretty little British boy that you know has his eyes on you? There wouldn't be any harm in that, right?

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[collecting-stories]

Homecoming - Connor Murphy

A/N: It’s just more indulgent Connor fluff

Give me one last hope of holding water in my hands, give me one last chance and I’ll be your man. I’ll be Your Man, Passenger

\\\

Connor let out a loud yowl, surprising you enough that you fell off the couch. The theme song to CSI continued as Connor fell back against the couch cushions, laughing at you. “Oh my god,” he squeezed his eyes shut as they teared from laughing so hard.  

“It’s not funny.” You whined, laying yourself flat on the floor, feet brushing against his as you stretched out across the carpeted basement of the Murphy household. “You scared the crap out of me Connor.”

“Sorry,” he replied, still laughing. He laid the joint he had been smoking in the ashtray on the coffee table and laid himself across the couch so he could see you, his hair hanging down as he leaned over you. “It’s a catchy tune.”

“It’s not that catchy.” You huffed.  

Connor reached his hand out, one foot going on the ground as he pulled up to a sitting position. You got yourself the rest of the way up and climbed on the couch beside him, taking the joint from the ashtray.  

“Hey, that’s mine!” He smiled, grabbing at you, “you said you didn’t want one!”  

“Yeah that was before you fucking stressed me out.” You joked, moving down the couch so you were out of his reach.  

Saturday night was the designated weekly hangout for you and Connor that had been established during the summer of sixth grade and had not changed since then. You had only ever missed two Saturdays, once because it was your grandmother’s birthday and once because Zoe had a recital. Otherwise you were always together on a Saturday night. It was always chill, watching some stupid movie or marathoning as much of a show as you possibly could. His mom would come downstairs every two hours, pretending to check the washer/dryer or claiming she needed something from the back shed as she slipped out the sliding glass door. A couple times she even sent Zoe or Larry down though Connor’s dad could’ve cared less what his son was doing so long as he wasn’t doing anything destructive. Even Cynthia had stopped trying to say something about the weed.  

Connor nabbed the joint back from you with ease, leaning back against the other side of the couch as the crime show played on.  

“Are you going to homecoming next week?” You asked, clicking the subtitles on so you could follow along better.  

“You’re joking right?”  

Three homecoming dances had been spent in Connor’s basement playing video games and watching TV. Not to mention the eighth grade formal, freshman dance, sophomore prom, and junior prom. You had zero interest in ever going to any of those stupid dances but lately your mom had been bugging you about not “missing out on the high school experience”. That and Evan had asked if you would go with him to homecoming because he wanted to go to be more social this year. You were already planning on going with him and Jared to the football game on Friday and even agreed to walk in the parade with Alana. Not something you might normally do but you were trying to let loose a little and you had a dress hanging in your closet waiting for you. The only problem was you would have to break your standing date with Connor.  

“No, seriously,” you replied, “I was thinking about going.”

“Isn’t it on a Saturday?”

“It is.”  

You watched the way Connor’s jaw tightened and his fist clenched, sure signs that he was mad, though typically those were tells directed at other people, not you. But now he was pissed at you. He placed the joint in the ashtray and grabbed his phone off the coffee table, pausing the show. Just like that all the air seemed to dissipate out of the room.  

“Connor?”

“I can’t fucking believe you.” Connor said, “who’re you going with?”

“No one, I just, wanted to go.” You shrugged.  

“You just wanted to go? All the fucking sudden? How convenient.” He snapped.

“I don’t think it’s a big deal Connor, it’s just a dance. We can hang out after or something...on Sunday if you want?”

“Oh, are you sure? You might have some fucking party to go to!” He got off the couch, heading to the stairs as if he was going to leave his own basement.

“Connor.” When you called his name he turned and walked back over, the only thing separating him from you was the coffee table and you felt strangely thankful.  

“You’re a fucking shit friend you know that? You act like this is all so fucking important to you and ‘oh Connor we have to get together we never miss it’ but then you just fuck off to other plans. It’s okay to hang out with me as long as you don’t have a better fucking offer!”  

“That’s not true and you know it!”  

“Just get the fuck out of my house!” He shouted.  

“Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m fucking kidding?”

-

Connor didn’t speak to you for the rest of the week. Despite the multiple texts you sent him Sunday through to Friday afternoon you heard absolutely nothing from him. He avoided you in school, going out of his way not to sit by you. It was a new form of torture that you had never expected to experience. Connor had never been this mad at you before. Small arguments that were easily sorted through but never massive arguments that led to such a blatant cold shoulder. You wanted to be stubborn, to wait it out until he realized that he was the one in the wrong. He should be begging for forgiveness and groveling at your feet but the more time progressed the more you were afraid that he would never put his pride aside to admit that he was wrong.  

So on Saturday night, instead of getting dressed up to go to Homecoming with Zoe, Alana, Evan, and Jared you were at the Sheetz near your house, getting Connor’s favorite milkshake and a small bag full of candy. The Murphy house was dark aside from the living room. Cynthia was at the door almost immediately after you knocked.

“Not going to the dance tonight?” She asked, looking a little relieved to see you, obviously unaware of the blow-out that you and Connor had suffered the last time you were at their house.

“Too many people, maybe senior prom,” you replied, “is Connor home?”

“He’s in his room.”

You carried the goods up the stairs of the Murphy house hold, arriving at Connor’s closed bedroom door. You couldn’t hear anything but ever since Cynthia had gotten him those noise-cancelling headphones he never blared his music. A compromise between the two of them. When you opened the door the room was dark and as your eyes adjusted you could make out Connor laying in bed. He hadn’t moved so you suspected he had his eyes closed.  

You shut the door behind you and ran your hand along the wall, flicking the light on. “Connor?”

No answer.  

Nudging the end of the bed with your leg you tried again, “Connor?” You repeated.  

His eyes opened slowly, his face already annoyed though it changed to surprise rather quickly as he scrambled to sit up, ripping his headphones off and tossing them down on the bed. “What are you doing here?” He clicked on his phone, checking the time.  

“It’s movie night.” You shrugged, holding out the milkshake for him to take.

“Yeah but...”

“You are always my first choice Connor. I’m sorry I made you feel like that wasn’t true. But even though I’m here right now that doesn’t mean you’re forgiven. You treated me like shit.”

“I was just pissed.” He replied, sipping at the shake.

“It’s not an excuse for the way you talked to me. I’m here because I love you and I needed to make sure you understood that. That you’ll always come first. But next time you talk to me like that no milkshakes and apologies okay?”

A ghost of a smile appeared on Connor’s face and he nodded. “Okay.”

“CSI?” You asked, biting on your lower lip, suddenly nervous as you stood in his room coming down from the adrenaline high you’d worked up to confront him.  

“Yeah,” he stood up but before you could start walking out of the room he wrapped his arm around you shoulders and pulled you close, kissing your forehead. “I’m a little bummed you didn’t come over in your dress.”

“Don’t push your luck Murphy!”  

-

In which Emily writes whatever she wants. 

[its8simplejulesblog]

Did I Ever Tell You About The Time I Got Stranded in An Airport In China?

It’s true. I was utterly alone. I mean in retrospect I wasn’t, there were hundreds of people in that airport. The difference, they spoke native Chinese and I didn’t. My family members have always been avid travelers, to the point where my mom let me, 20 at the time, travel to China alone. Of course, I was meeting up with people when I got there, but the travel part was alllllllll me. So naturally, things had to go wrong. 

So here’s the sitch. Before my brother was born, during the dark ages of minimal internet, my mom joined this online group of moms that were expecting around the same time so they could ask questions and go through the experience of being pregnant for the first time together. My mom really clicked with a woman named Sandie in the group who happened to be from Australia. As we grew up, our families became really close. We would meet up with them in Florida all the time. 

Eventually, we decided we would ship ourselves over to Australia for Christmas/ New Years, but that’s a different story. 

More background information: My dad helped start a robotics team 21 years ago, and has become really well known in that community so he’s friends with everyone. We were contacted while we were in Australia to come meet up with another family who is really involved in robotics internationally so we went to have dinner with their family. They are an INCREDIBLE family. You know the type where they always have a ridiculous story for everything you just can’t believe it’s real? That’s what they were like. Anyway, the mom started talking about how they were opening a robotics lab in China and they take students over to teach the kids about programming and lego league and just to be pen pals; and, if you know my family at all, I immediately invited myself to go. I really was like “oh I should go with you,” out loud, and my mom looked at me and instead of saying no, she looked at this lady and she said “yeah, Julia is learning Chinese, she could go with you.” and the lady just said “yeah! ok” and I was going to China...alone haha. 

Flash forward and I have to take two flights to go to China. The International flight goes sickeningly smooth. I have absolutely 0 issues, and my whole family is extremely relieved, BuT WaIT, there’s more. When I go to take the domestic flight to Fuzhou, the province that we were going to be “touring” I see that the flight is canceled. There’s an announcement over the loud speaker but I’m already panicked and it’s in rapid fire Chinese so I go to the desk instead. The lady at the desk is trying to be patient with me, but I’m clearly already freaking out and her English is broken. She manages to tell me that there was a bad wind storm so they had to postpone a lot of the flights. 

Okay, postpone..that isn’t so bad, right? ALSO WRONG, it’s at this exact moment that my phone’s wifi cuts out entirely, so it’s survival mode now. I’m crying on the floor of the Shanghai airport when I hear actual English for the first time in forever (I’m apparently really good at accidental Frozen references) but I FLY towards whoever is speaking English. The culprit turns out to be these 2 guys from Canada. One of them speaks fluent Chinese and they’re helpful for about 5 minutes before they have to abandon me because their flight was rescheduled. So, we’re back to square one. 

At this point, they announce that the flight is cancelled and I want to die, but the good news is my wifi comes back on. I immediately text my mom and my uncle, who my aunt met when she was in the Peace Corps in China so he starts a call with his entire family that lives in China apparently because I don’t recognize any of these people at all. The only thing they can tell me to do is to talk to a flight attendant so that’s what I do. 

Imagine a group of really cute and young sorority girls hanging out when they’re approached by someone that..is just completely a mess. Yeah that’s what it was like when I went over to them. I got one of the girls to help me and again, her English was about the level of my Chinese at the time, so together we were only slightly above idiot. She tells me that the Chinese airport doesn’t let foreigners stay at the onsite hotel, so I would be able to go with her and her friend once she got off of her shift to go to a hotel. 

SOUNDS SUS doesn’t it, but when you’re desperate, you’re desperate. When the flight attendant gets off of her shift I go with her to the parking garage because she booked a hotel for me. When we finally get there, this 25 year old Chinese Troy Bolton looking man whips his car around and we get in with him (completely safe, how could you not trust Chinese Troy Bolton). We drive about 30 minutes through Shanghai and honestly, it’s beautiful. It was one of those circumstances in life we’re you’re looking at the city lit up at night and you really can’t believe you’re there. It was probably one of the scariest, yet most memorable experiences of my life. 

We pull into the hotel and since I finally had native speakers with me, things were going a lot smoother. The flight attendant was talking with my uncle on the phone about scheduling me a flight for the next day and she talked to the lady in the lobby about my room. At this point, I knew her pretty well because, surprise, she was actually 30 years old and had a daughter and I thought that was SO CUTE. I gave the flight attendant a hug and thanked her friend, and it was just me again. 

Here’s the best part of this entire story. The only hotel they could book me in was, wait for it, a honeymoon suite. A HONEYMOON SUITE. The hallways of the hotel were covered in mirrors and the carpets were covered in flowers. Everything smelled like drugs and smoke and clearly everyone was having the time of their lives. The bathroom in the room, completely see through, the bed had a HUGE mural of Barbie’s face above it and the curtains had minnie mouse on them and I don’t know how that’s romantic at all, but you can’t make this shit up haha. If you think I’m lying, here’s a lil (horrible) photo I took of the curtains. If you want to see video, ask me in person. 

At this point, I am way past delirious. I took a shower and time ceased to exist. I was so jet lagged and confused. I called my mom and after I hung up with her I immediately fell asleep. A solid 2 hours later I woke up and SCREAMED because my body clock was so off, I thought it was the next day and I had missed my next flight. I called my mom crying again, and she told me it had only been two hours so I went back to bed. When I finally woke up at the right time my uncle, god bless this man, got on the phone with me and helped me talk to the people at the desk. They got a cab for me and I trudged back to the airport. 

2nd times the charm, except, I need to get my boarding pass printed out at the help desk, which has a line of about the entirety of the Chinese population. Fun fact about China too, they don’t know what a straight line is. This is just fact, they just cut straight to the front and shove each other out of the way. This took me way too long to realize, and after I stood in this line for about 2 hours, I realized that I was going to have to assimilate. So there I was, a puny stick of a human, elbowing grown Chinese men out of my way to get this pass while my uncle and 300 relatives are on the call with me. 

I get to the the desk and surprise, the person is not helpful at all so I do what any actually insane person would do and I just continued walking my way through security to the gates. I get filtered into bag check of which, I don’t even have a bag so I just walk up to the desk anyway to see if anyone else can help me. 

After the longest 5 minutes of my life my SAVIOR of a 22 year old tiny little man decides to give me his attention. I don’t know HOW. I don’t. Know. How. But he manages to print a boarding pass for me and my soul left my body because at this point I had 30 minutes to get to my flight so I thank him and SPRINT and I mean really book it through security to the plane. I finally made it. 

Granted, the trip was entirely worth that stress. The kids I met in China were incredibly kind. They called me a Disney Princess and wrote me love letters and gave me hugs even though it was clear I didn’t know shit about coding. It was just amazing to be there as a friend and role model for them. I stood in front of them and spoke Chinese and encouraged them to keep learning English and it was the most grounding experience of my life, because it was clear that they didn’t have much. 

We went to five cities while we were there to tell the kids about lego league and cooperation and teamwork. I sat in on meetings with school board professionals and on interviews with students that wished to continue their education abroad in America. I learned so much about the systematic education there and there is nothing I want more than to go back there. The kids have already invited me back to their homes, and I have never met anyone more welcoming and kind. So think twice before you make jokes about the Corona Virus. 

At the end of the day, this trip defines what I want to do. There is nothing like stepping entirely out of your comfort zone to explore. There is nothing like shocking a bunch of Chinese men with your ability to use chopsticks. There is nothing like putting aside biases and language barriers and simply treating people like people. Everywhere I go, I think of that place as a new home to me, and I can’t wait to be home there again.

Also..the next semester when I got back, we learned the airport and travel unit at school in Chinese class, such is life I guess. 

Here are some pictures from China. 

-Julia 

[b0rtney]

Why I Do What I Do: 1. A Human Being with a Place of Birth

You can’t know where you’re going without knowing where you’re from, so today I’ll talk a little bit about where I’m from, and why I do what I do. This first part is about where I’m from as a human being.

I was born and raised in a nice little suburb of Missouri, about twenty minutes from downtown St. Louis. 

For kindergarten, I went to a nice Henry school and attended a nice Baptist church on Sundays, and maybe one other day of the week if I’m remembering that right. These were the kinds of places that would make any moderate person’s skin crawl. My older sister would scream and pout when my parents wrestled her into a church dress, but it would be a scandal if she tried wearing pants– that kind of place. My parents got divorced when I was six or seven, and that kind of thing had every person in that church turning their backs on my family, the fact that my mom soon began working to support me and my siblings was, I’m sure, the talk of the congregation for a little while– that kind of place. 

After my parents got divorced, I switched to another nice Henry school, and I moved to new houses: one for each parent. That nice Henry school didn’t work out for long. My mom couldn’t stand Henryity in almost any form anymore. And the tuition was too expensive for an electrician with a declining business and a brand-new real estate agent in 2007. So, public schools. My dad was zoned for a school with the best public schools around, so we used his address. Kehrs Mill Elementary was where I went starting in second grade, and where my brother went starting in Kindergarten. My sister started sixth grade at Crestview Middle. 

I went about half the year friendless in second grade, and then I met Fernanda. She was the only Hispanic girl in the whole school (there was one Philipino boy, two Chinese girls, an Indian girl, a Middle Eastern boy, and everyone else was African American or Caucasian). She, kind of literally, yanked me by the arm and dragged me into friendship, and I’d never been happier. We played Warrior cats (yes, based on the books, don’t look at me like that every school had some kids that did it… although I think the part where we lapped water out of the sink and hissed at her mom was a little weird). We made up a version of “Cowboys and Indians” where we would be two Chieftesses with inexplicable numbers of children and no husbands, facing moral dilemmas like what to do with prisoners of war when they won’t hear of peace– while our brothers (my one and her two) tried to shoot at us with Nerf guns. 

At this point, if you had asked me what I wanted to do with my life, I would have told you what I considered an impossible joke: I wanted to marry a woman, run an orphanage, adopt a bunch of teenagers and babies, and drive a van big enough to fit everyone in it when we went grocery shopping together. 

In third grade I took a long test in the school’s brand-new computer lab and I scored so well that they took me, once a week, on Wednesdays, to a different campus with other kids that scored really well on that test and we learned about lazers and climate change and cloning and other things for “gifted” kids. But otherwise, third grade passed in much the same way as second grade, but nothing exists without complications and so there came along a boy named Henry. He was new to school and he had what could have been called a cool haircut, for 2009, and Fernanda loved him. I didn’t. But she did, so I thought it was normal to like a boy, so I said I liked him too. And then he said he liked me better than her because she was weird and I kicked him in the shin and said something mean that I don’t remember anymore. But Fernanda didn’t like that, and she didn’t like me. So at the beginning of fourth grade she told me she wasn’t going to be my friend this year so that she could try being friends with someone else. 

So, I was alone again in fourth grade, for a minute. But by this time my real estate-mom had moved us to house number three (four, maybe?) since the divorce: a condo with blue carpets and mostly old people living there. This was where I met Branch, a kid from my class who visited his grandma in the condo directly above us. Branch and I each had a little brother, and by now my sister had taken to locking herself in her room and not talking to anyone, so Branch and me and our little brothers played “Hup-hups,” a war game where there were two sides, each with a commander and an infantryman who would respond to commands like “stay,” “go,” “attack,” and “attention.” It was pretty fun, so Branch told his friends at school about it, and they all wanted to join my faction, and this went on like a domino effect until I was running an army comprised of something like 30-50 fourth-grade boys, depending on the day, at recess. I don’t think I realized how weird that was at the time. We mostly just screwed around until another boy formed an oppositional army, calling themselves the Arachnids, because that was just about the biggest word you could know in fourth grade, and they started guerilla warfare. They would just straight-up attack us and try to hurt us. I would scream at the boys following me to run away, because I never wanted anyone to get hurt, but then the oppositional army leader had his arm around my throat and I was choking so I couldn’t yell very loud, and all the boys on my side just went to town attacking the Arachnids back. Somehow, none of the recess monitors– these were two grouchy old women who would always yell at me and Fernanda for trying to climb the trees– ever saw this, or stopped it. The violence continued until people got tired of it, and by the end of the year I was alone again.

Fifth grade was when the depression I’d had since I can remember really kicked it up a notch. It should be noted that I had no idea what depression was. I thought it was normal to just not want to get out of bed in the morning, to want to die all the time, to dig needles into your skin and try to make yourself bleed because at least then you have control over something. By then my mom had moved to house number five, within walking distance from the school, so my brother and I would walk together every morning. I made one new friend, named John, and he talked me out of suicide not once but twice, once by yelling at me over the phone and once by just existing, which is very impressive for a fifth grader, if I’m honest, but also I think I’ll always feel a little horrible for putting that pressure on him. I convinced myself that I loved him, at the time. 

You may be noticing a pattern with me and boys, but we’re not quite there yet. 

Of course, between fifth and sixth grade my family picked up and moved across the country from Missouri to Southern California.

I spent sixth grade and most of seventh grade friendless, and met a few friends in eighth grade– two of those friends are still with me to this day. In eighth grade I met a girl named Chloe, who had three pregnancy scares in a year and who convinced me to make out with her in a pillow fort in the room I shared with my sister while my sister was out with her boyfriend– and that was the first kiss I ever had and it felt like liquid lightning in my veins. But in eighth grade I also listened to my Republican parents on the matter of gay rights– of course, I barely knew what gay was, I just knew it was something you called people you didn’t like because that’s all that a Missouri elementary school teaches you about it– and so I thought gay people were a little gross, and I was a little gross for liking it when I kissed a girl, and I buried that part of me. In eighth grade I also met the boy who would be the first one I would date: Chris. I dated him from the middle of freshman year to the end of sophomore year in high school. We went on a few awkward dates, we held hands even though his were sweaty and we couldn’t get the timing right, we kissed even though it felt about as exciting as eating plain bread– not exactly bad, just not exciting or fun. 

Now the pattern might seem more clear. It certainly became very clear to me. 

I didn’t like boys. I like girls. I’ve liked girls since forever, and no amount of shame or repression was going to “fix” me because I. Wasn’t. Broken. I was depressed and I was anxiety-ridden and I was introverted maybe a little too much, but being homosexual was never an issue. 

I broke up with my boyfriend. I came out to my friends, then my siblings, then my parents, then everyone else. I had a girlfriend, and she lost interest, so I broke it off. I had another girlfriend, but I had never been interested, so I broke it off. Then I put dating aside. 

I continued to get straight As in school, take all the AP classes, run three clubs, rank nationally for field hockey goalies, help a friend of mine transition from straight girl to gay girl to nonbinary kid to straight boy, and accumulate a solid group of five friends. 

Then I got rejected from every college I applied to because of a clerical error I didn’t know about until a year later (after appeals were already a lost cause), so I got a job, I went to a community college, tried to go for a business degree and hated it, switched to a creative writing degree, and now here we are! With my applications submitted and one acceptance in the bag (thank you, University of Iowa!), now I want to focus on my writing and try to get published next.

Now that you know where I’m from, you know at least a little of what I care about. I deal a lot with mental health, so does my writing. My sexuality was a major unknown for me for a large portion of my life, so I include that a lot in the hopes that I can help someone else not be so lost with that. My hometown had very little racial diversity, so I want to represent more diversity in my writing. 

But I don’t want to get ahead of myself: in the coming posts, I’ll show you what I’ve written and read, so you can have a better idea of where I’m coming from as a writer, now that you know where I’m coming from as a person.