and she left an empty cardboard box outside of his room

From the Dining Table, Pt. 1 (Ethan)

Summary: Before moving out of the home you once shared with your fame hungry ex-boyfriend, you sit down to write him a letter, explaining to him why you left and where to find you if he ever comes to look for you.

Word Count: 2,352

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: This idea hit me in the middle of the night while listening to Harry Styles’ new album, specifically the last song entitled “From the Dining Table.” I highly recommend you listen to the song while reading this imagine for the full effect. I also apologize in advance if I make anyone feel things; writing this had me feeling all the things. I might turn this into a mini-series if it gets enough love, so please enjoy! Requests are open!


“I honestly never thought this day would come, Mom.” You grab the last of the pictures of you and your ex-boyfriend sitting on the dresser and throw them into a cardboard box in the entrance of the bedroom. “I’m moving out of the house I shared with the person I thought I was going to marry, and he doesn’t even know I’m leaving. Do you hear how twisted that sounds?”

Your mom places the rest of your t-shirts into the open suitcase on the floor. “Honey, you can’t predict the future. You didn’t know he was going to turn out to be this way.”

“We’ve been friends since we were in diapers, Mom. Nothing about him or the way he was raised would have indicated that this would have happened. He used to just be a goofy kid with a camera… What happened?”

She stands up to zip the suitcase. “I don’t know, but you’ve been turning that over in your head for God knows how long now. Haven’t you tortured yourself enough?”

“Hasn’t he tortured me enough?”

The both of you sigh and your stomach begins to twist. You pick up the cardboard box and a couple of tote bags laying around, following your mom as she drags the suitcase out into the dining room, the wheels echoing through the nearly empty house as they click on the wooden floor.

“Y/N, fame changes people. I just hope for his own good that one day he realizes what he truly lost… Okay, do we have everything?”

You shift from one foot to the other, trying to subdue the pain in your abdomen that’s only growing. “Yeah, I think so. My clothes are all packed, the electricity will be shut off by the city tonight, my pictures are all put away, and we loaded all the furniture into the truck yesterday.”

“All, except the table,” she notes.

“Yeah, that’s not mine. I’m leaving it for…” you trail off as you glance at the surface, remembering the notebook and pens you packed in one of your totes.

“Hey Mom, why don’t you take the rest of this stuff? I’ll be outside in a second, I just have something I want to do, first.”

“Okay, but don’t take too long. I want to ride the daylight out as much as possible. You know I have a hard time driving at night.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

Your mom takes the box from you before pushing it and the suitcase out the door. She shuts it behind her while you pull your stationary out from one of the bags, setting it on the table. You take off the cap of your pen, breathing deeply before pressing it to the paper:


 I don’t want to be angry with you anymore, Ethan, but I am. I’m so god damn angry.

I want to live my life and not think about you or hear your laugh everywhere I go. I want to look in the mirror and see my face again instead of yours. I regret cutting all my hair off just so I could look like you. I wish I had the power to delete our song off of my phone. I wish I wasn’t slumped over the dining room table, crying while I was writing this.

You’re so selfish that it makes me sick. The very first night I met you, I didn’t know I’d grow up to consider you my best friend. I never expected to become this attached to you. But, fast forward to the day you left me: when you walked out the door, you took the oxygen from my lungs.

You’re just a set of bones and a beating heart. How did you mess me up so bad?

I was such a fool to think you’d adhere to your resolution to live as normal of a life as possible. You used to know that life has so much more to offer than posting moody pictures on Instagram and hoping it gets over 500,000 likes or ignoring the people who built you up because it makes you feel powerful. What you’ve become absolutely disgusts me, and the worst part of it all is that you don’t even know what the time apart has done to me. I never got to celebrate your birthday with you, something that was a dream of ours to do together. I couldn’t give you Christmas presents this year. I couldn’t sit with you and your family while they grilled hot dogs in your back yard on the Fourth of July. I couldn’t do any of this because you only think of yourself anymore. It’s like you’ve completely forgotten about me.

Right before your departure, you told me you’d come back for me. You said you would text and call whenever you could until we would see each other again in person. I got your first text soon after, and for a while it felt like we were never apart; it felt like the oxygen in my lungs was restored. You’d call me after every show and every promotional event, so excited and in awe that you couldn’t wait to tell me about everything that happened. As time went on though, with the more people you met and the higher you climbed up the ladder, the texts became fewer and farther in between. My phone rang less often until it stopped ringing all together. You didn’t text me anymore. I had to learn about everything you were doing through friends and social media. I can’t count the number of voicemails I left you, afraid that I smothered you and apologizing for being the reason you pushed me away. I know now that it had absolutely nothing to do with me, but I can’t help but hope that one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry, too. It never happens, though. You never do.

You friends tell me that this is normal, that getting through the separation anxiety is the worst part. But, let me ask you this: Was it normal for me to curl up in the fetal position in the middle of the hallway after you walked out of the door? Was it normal for me not to sleep a wink after you were gone? I would scream into the dark of night, begging for you to come back. I would pray for you, and you know how I feel about religion. Praying was something you did before every meal and every night before bedtime. I would watch you clasp your hands together and close your eyes while your lips gracefully moved to form silent requests of peace, grace, and mercy. Do you remember when you asked me about religion? I pressed my lips into a hard line, squeezing my hands together so tightly that I lost feeling within seconds. I did it though, I got down on my knees by my bedside hoping that you would be able to hear me through whatever kind of higher power you believed in. It turns out I was wrong.

Let me tell you that if God does exist, He’s a vulture. He’s completely unfair. The kind of lives He had in store for both of us was cruel and downright disgusting; He chose me for endless suffering and He chose you to poison the lives of everyone you meet. So much for being a good guy, huh?

The worst part of all of this is the fact that despite my anger and resentment towards your addiction to fame and how you chose it over me, you’ve taught me more than I could have ever imagined. It makes me sad, but one of those lessons is the fact that once people are broken in certain ways, they can’t be fixed. This is something that no one ever tells you when you’re young; it never fails to surprise me when I look around and see people close to me breaking one by one. I should probably get it in my head. I saw it happen to you and then I felt it happen to me. I did almost everything to try and heal the resulting pain, including hurting myself in ungodly disturbing ways. I didn’t, however sleep with strangers and then leave them in the cold like the tabloids said you did.

But, see, even if I did such an ugly, terrible thing, those people would never fill this hole. I’m always going to want you. I’m always going to choose you.

I hate myself for that. I hate that I can be so angry and so vicious toward what you’ve become, but at the end of the night I lay in bed knowing I’m always going to be waiting for you. I can lie to myself all I want about it and yet I still find myself walking around every day thinking about how different circumstances would be if you were by my side at any particular moment. I tell myself to avoid everything that reminds me of you; instead I expose myself to those things even more because I don’t know how to live without the hole in my chest anymore. I can easily say I’ve failed at attempting to get over you and I don’t want to make any more attempts. The only way I can carry you with me now is by carrying the pain of you not being with me. The pain has been there for two years, five months, three weeks, and two days. This is the only way I know how to live now.

But, above all else, the one thing I desperately need you to know is that even before my anger, pity, and resentment, if you ever end up calling me again, even if it’s at 4 AM and you’re too sad to say a word, I won’t yell at you about how much of my life you’ve consumed. Rather, I will intently listen to your silence until you’re able to fall asleep again. If you need to cry, I won’t wipe away your tears because we’re only human and sometimes tears are the closest we can get to laughter and that’s okay. If you need to yell so ferociously that your voice gives out and your knees fail you, I’ll be there to hold you up and I’ll yell with you to make you feel less alone. If you get so angry that you punch your hands raw, I will ice your knuckles and gently remind you that wounds do eventually heal, both inside and out, just like the way harsh winters give way to warm springs. I will be your warm spring again, and I will do all of this because I love you unconditionally, even when you spite me and drive me insane. Sometimes I think I’d be better off dead than putting up with everything that comes with you, and I hate the fact that I don’t hate you. I just love you. My love is over, underneath, inside, and in between all the struggles that we have faced.

Now, I’m begging you, Ethan. If you ever decide to come look for me, I’ve left California; I can’t live in a place that feels so artificial anymore. I’m going back to the beginning, the place where you and I planted our roots, where we ran around in the sprinklers in the summer and made snow angels in the winter, where we tossed our high school graduation caps in the air and took weekend trips driving into the city. I’m going back to the place where I can find myself again. If you ever decide to come look for me, I’ll be waiting for you there.


Wiping the tears from your eyes, you fold the piece of paper down in thirds before placing it in an envelope and sloppily addressing it with an “E”. A horn honks outside, cueing you to grab the last of your bags and place the letter in the middle of the table. As you approach the front door, you turn around to take in the empty house one last time. All of the memories you and Ethan shared together here begin to dance in front of your eyes and you sigh to yourself, grateful that they’re going to stay with you for the rest of your life, but heartbroken you have to leave this behind. Finally, you step out onto the front porch and lock the door behind you.

“Alright, I’m good. I’ve got everything,” you grunt as you climb into the passenger seat of the moving van, tossing the bags behind you.

Your mom reaches over from the driver’s side to place her hand on your cheek. “You are such a brave girl. I am so proud of you for starting to let go.”

You close your eyes and place a hand on her wrist. “Thanks, Mom. Can we please go now, though, before I get too sentimental? I don’t want to cry anymore. My lungs already hurt too much.”

The both of you let go of each other to click your seat belts in place, and as your mom pulls the truck out of the neighborhood and onto the highway, you roll the windows down and turn on the radio. After several minutes of humming along to the music and getting lost in your own thoughts, your mom’s voice startles you.

“Do you think he’ll ever come back?”

You shift in your seat, unsure how to answer. “It’s been over two years, Mom.”

“What if he decides to come back to the house and you’re not there?”

“He has a key. He can get in.”

“But you won’t be there.”

You pause for a moment. “No, I won’t be. But I have a feeling that if he ever comes across what I left for him, he’ll know exactly where to find me.”

“And where’s that?”

You glance out the window, the vast, California landscape speeding by you as you head for the state line. The two of you have a long drive ahead of you back to the East Coast, almost 2,800 miles.

“Home. I told him to come home.”

The Neighbors

Part One: The New Neighbors.

Summary: You’ve been in New York for about 3 years now moving here looking for a new experience. You grew up in a small town with you parents and siblings, so your new experience was city life. You began working at a hospital doing patient records and a moved into a cute little apartment in a mostly safe neighborhood in Brooklyn. After being at the hospital for a few months, you were presented with an amazing offer to switch from patient records to shadowing nurses, you just had to take a few classes outside of work while you worked with them. Since then, your life in New York has been great. But will it stay that way once you meet your new neighbors across the hall?

Warnings : swearing, bad flirting.

Pairings: Sam Wilson x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, eventual Steve Rogers x Reader

  


     The shrill sound of your alarm clock wakes you from you well earned sleep. You roll yourself over, smacking the snooze button and peaking at the time. 2 pm. I swear I changed my alarm yesterday before work. You let out a loud yawn that could be confused as a moan while your stretch out in your bed. You flop back down onto the mattress, thinking about what you’re going to do today.

   Well, since I’m done with classes & my shift doesn’t start until 10 tonight, maybe I can find a new show on Netflix!  You amp yourself up for the day but your body is still feeling the exhaustion from your 12 hour shift at the hospital. You decide the best thing to cure the exhaustion is coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. You make your way to the kitchen, sporting your favorite pajamas: a long baggy band tee with boy short underwear.You skip around your kitchen while the coffee brews, tidying everything up. When you’re finally about to take a sip of your coffee, a loud boom sounds from the hall outside your apartment. You jump at the noise, successfully spilling your hot coffee down your chest and a little on your bare thighs.

    “Son of a bitch. What the hell is going on?” There are only two apartments on this floor of the building, yours, & one that’s been empty since you got here. Your landlord says it isn’t rented out like the others, it’s owned. The owners just come & go randomly, never staying too long. You’ve never seen your neighbors, but today is going to change that. You strip out of your shirt and throw on your black robe that lands about mid thigh on you. You slide on your slippers and go open your front door. You come face to face with stacks of cardboard boxes, and the sound of two male voices fills your ears.

   “What did I tell you? Keep your boxes in your fucking room! It’s already crammed in here enough, you asshole,” you hear the first voice yell.  All you hear in response from the second voice is a laugh ,and something hit a wall. You hear a curse from the first voice.  As you maneuver your way through the hall of boxes and to the opening for your neighbor’s apartment, you see that the door’s open, and like the first voice said, there’s boxes everywhere. Dear God, who has this much shit?

   You knock on the door frame and see a head pop up from behind the boxes. You let out a laugh and send a shy wave.

  “ Well hello there,” He smiles and makes his way around the boxes to you. He was several inches taller than you, with dark skin and a shining smile. You get the sense that you’ve seen him before, but shake it off and introduce yourself.

Originally posted by littlemisssyreid

  “Hey, I’m Y/n. I live across the hall.” You shake hands, before he says anything you hear the  other voice.

“I thought Stark said he bought this apartment because no one else lives on this level?” Stark? Tony Stark? Then it all clicks; the first man is Sam Wilson, the Falcon.  Another man emerges from the boxes and you have to stop your mouth from falling open. The Winter Soldier. Holy shit. The man had shoulder length brown hair. His jawline was perfectly sculpted and his eyes were a perfect shade of blue. He looks you up and down and a smile forms on his face.

  “Hi, I’m Bucky Barnes.” He waves, you send an awkward wave back.

Originally posted by sebastianobrien

“Hi, uhm I’m sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt your unpacking.” You slowly start backing away. The man who you recognize as Sam Wilson stops you.  

  “No no! It’s okay! I’m Sam, by the way. Sorry about all the boxes in the hall. Like you heard, we thought we were alone here.” He laughs and you follow suit.

   “Well I’ve been here for a couple years and haven’t seen you either of you here before.”

  “Well, Stark had bought this place for himself when he needed a break from things, but he sent us here to lay low for a while.”

  “Ahhh, I see. Is it just you two here?“ Way to be nosey…

  "Us & Steve. He should be home any minute if you want to wait & meet him too.” His voice is kind and you can see you getting along very well with him. Bucky’s been silent this entire time but his eyes haven’ left you.

  You smile and shake your head, “Nah, I should head back. I just wanted to stop and say hello. I’ll catch Steve another time!"You turn away, starting to leave.

   "Feel free to come say hello anytime Dollface, especially if you’re wearing that robe.”  The sound of Bucky’s voice surprises you. You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, but you turn and smile shyly at Bucky.

Originally posted by sophiabuzh


  “I’ll see you guys later!” You dart to your door, but you can still hear Sam & Bucky.

  “Dude , what the hell? You’re going to scare her off! Keep the creepiness inside, oldman,” you hear Sam say.

 "It didn’t seem like she minds all that much, maybe you’re just crabby that the ladies don’t want a bird boy, Wilson.“

"Man, shut the hell up.”

You shut your door while you let out a laugh at your new neighbors. This could be fun.

Sweeter Than Chocolate || Remus Lupin x Reader

Andrew Garfield as a young!remus is my aesthetic (/ω\)

**please don’t repost/plagiarize this story. Reblogs are fine!

{{request status: open}}

word count: 1,400+

{…}

It happened again. Someone was leaving a pile of chocolate frogs in front of your dorm. At first, you thought that it was meant for your roommate Teresa, but when she scrunched up her nose in disdain and told you that she wasn’t a fan of sweets, you figured that you were the only option left.

Chocolate was, after all, one of your main weaknesses, and you would eat it every single day if it wasn’t for the fact that having an ungodly amount of chocolate in your system would give you the most horrendous stomach ache (you should know since you’ve been there before.)

Feeling happy that your mystery supplier had given you ten more chocolate frogs, you scoop each of the boxes up and gingerly place them within your bag, “These will be the perfect pick-me-up after a study session.”

You enter your dorm, seeing that it was empty as you breathed out a sigh of relief. Going toward your side of the room, you grab the textbooks that you needed along with several quills, a few jars of ink, and some paper. Since it was a Friday night, you knew that the library would be empty as the vast majority of the students preferred to hang out in the courtyard or the Great Hall to mingle with their friends before turning in for the night.

Which made this night the perfect night for you to catch up on your reading.

Once you had everything you needed, you hold your textbooks close to your chest and walk out of your dorm, taking confident strides to the library as your hair bounced with your movements.

{…}

Remus Lupin had no idea why he became so terrified at the thought of conversing with the young woman known as [Full Name].

Maybe it was because she was so pretty and smart coupled along with the fact that she had a penchant for sweets (just like he did). While he was walking around the hallways, about to meet up with his friends outside, Remus froze upon seeing the girl he had just been thinking about walk past him.

Almost like a conditioned response, Remus felt his face turn red as his green eyes followed [Name’s] figure. He watched as her hips swayed, seeming to walk with a happy bounce in her step. Mesmerized by her movement, Remus turns around to follow her from a safe distance.

[Name] leads him to the library, the giant room completely barren of any other student. The fact that she was the only one in here (excluding Remus, of course. She didn’t need to know about his presence, really.) makes a wide grin form on her face when she finds a table near the center of all the books.

Making sure that he was hidden behind one of the shelves, Remus peers over it to watch as [Name] emptied out the contents of her bag. When he saw the 10 chocolate frogs he had given her spread out against the table, Remus thought that he was going to suffer from a heart attack from how badly his heart was racing.

Lately, he had been giving [Name] a whole bunch of his chocolate stash, not brave enough to hand it to her personally, but still desperate enough to make her happy as he placed them in front of her dorm room. He was so pathetic that he memorized her schedule, just to make sure that she wasn’t there when he appeared with his chocolates in hand.

He was still staring at her (with a prominent blush on his pale cheeks) when he felt his whole body stiffen at the sound of a familiar laughter. “Hey Moony! Where’d you disappear off to?”

Curse you Padfoot! Before he could escape the library in hopes that [Name] wouldn’t notice him, Remus saw his three rambunctious friends entering the library as they loudly called out his name, interrupting the tranquil silence.

He sees the girl look up at him, making his whole back turn warm as he began to sweat profusely before gesturing at his friends, “Please keep it down! I don’t want-“

”Whoa, is that the girl you’ve been talking about? You lucky bloke, she’s gorgeous!” Sirius nearly shouted at Remus, making his heart sink at what was to come.

{…}

You were in the middle of reading your Potion’s text when you realized that you were no longer alone in the library.

A grimace appears on your face when you recognize the four group of boys who were notorious troublemakers within the Gryffindor house. Because of how loud and obnoxious they were, you found yourself wishing that you had been sorted into Ravenclaw instead.

You sigh and start tracing shapes on the page of your textbook, waiting for the boys to leave. You didn’t know what they were saying since their voices suddenly settled down to hushed tones as you hoped that they weren’t talking about you.

Feeling anxious, you grab one of the chocolate frogs and begin unboxing it, holding the cardboard close to your lips as the frog automatically jumped into your mouth. You smile and chew thoughtfully, loving how the milk chocolate seemed to melt in your mouth as it felt like soft silk against your tongue.

Too busy relishing the taste of the delectable chocolate, you didn’t realize how the group of boys had disbanded, leaving only one behind as he made his way toward you. You were about to check out what kind of card you had gotten with your chocolate, only to be stopped when you heard a soft cough.

”[Name]?”

Looking up, you saw the tall boy with shaggy brown hair and clear green eyes staring nervously at you. With a smile, you giggle and ask him, “Remus Lupin, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

Remus seemed taken aback at how you knew his name, “Y-You know who I am?”

”But of course, you’re pretty much one of Gryffindor’s star students. You have what it takes to be a magnificent wizard, no doubt about it.” You had always harbored a deep admiration and respect for Remus and honestly wanted to be just like him. In fact, he was just about the only one in that obnoxious group consisting of James, Sirius, and Peter that you actually (and genuinely) liked.

You watch as Remus blushed at your words, “Th-Thank you, honest.”

An awkward silence was formed between the two of you, and you had a rising suspicion that Remus wanted to talk to you about something. “Anyways, enough small talk, what is it that you want to tell me?”

He begins to stutter, making it difficult for you to understand him. “I-I w-well, I w-was just w-wondering…I mean, th-that is, if you really want to, w-would you, c-could you….?” He trails off suddenly, making you give him a perplexed expression in response.

You had no idea what he wanted to say.

With a light laugh escaping from your lips, you pick up one of the chocolate frogs and throw a box at him, “Here, eat this to calm down. Whenever I feel anxious, I always find that some good chocolate helps with boosting my confidence.” You wink at him, watching Remus with amusement as he fumbled with opening the box of chocolate.

You look away from him so that he wouldn’t be so nervous, turning your attention back to your notes you had written during class. After a few minutes of waiting, you figured that Remus had already eaten the chocolate when he called out your name again.

”Yes?” You face him again, only to be met with the close proximity of his face when he leaned down to kiss you.

You were pleasantly surprised, to say the least. This boy’s lips were impossibly soft, and you found yourself moaning when you tasted chocolate from them. Quickly becoming addicted to his kiss, you wrap your arms around Remus’ neck to deepen the kiss.

As if you had taken his breath away, Remus forces himself to pull away from you, letting out a shuddering breath when he apologized, “Gods, I’m such a fool. I only meant to- I mean, I j-just wanted to ask you out. I didn’t mean to kiss you, but oh god the kiss was so good. It was better than I imagined, and the fact that you accepted my chocolate gifts-“

You interrupt his nervous ranting when you kissed him again, silently telling him that his feelings for you were requited. Once he had calmed down, you pull away as he whispered to you, “Will you have me as your boyfriend?”

You flash him a bright smile and nuzzle your nose together with his, “How could I possibly say no to a boy who’s kisses are sweeter than chocolate?”

[end]

Originally posted by nellaey

Why are baby boomers like this.

Just went and bought a new TV since mine decided to explode last week.

Since my car is roughly the size of a small hamster wheel the box wouldn’t fit. Nbd, I am industrious. When it still wouldn’t fit after a few minutes of me and the shop clerk guy rearranging some of things and playing with angles and leverage, I decide to just take the tv out of the box. The actual tv is more than small enough, it’s just the box that won’t fit.

So here I am sitting in front of Best Buy prying a large cardboard box open. I told the shop guy he was good to leave me to it, since I know they’re not allowed to do that kind of thing, and if anyone is going to break my new TV on the pavement it’s going to be me.

Oh and did I mention I just got out of a job interview, so I look nice and classy, hair done, nails done, wearing pearls, with my trendy baby pink hybrid car, cussing at a cardboard box and ripping it apart with my teeth because it’s fucking bolted together with huge fuckoff staples.

The staff keeps peeking out the doors at me. I think they’re cracking up. I would be too. Two different guys stop and offer to help. Chivalrous. But I got this- this box is going the fuck down.

I finally pry this bitch open and I’m carefully easing my new 55" TV out of the box, maneuvering it into the back of my tiny baby hatchback. I’m bleeding where the box tore my cuticle. I stop. Pull it back out and flip it over b/c I decide I want it screen-up just in case I hit a speedbump-

And behind me I hear this lady.

“No, there’s this girl just sitting outside Best Buy trying to put a tv in her car, and they’re not helping her or ANYTHING. Like… She’s out here all by herself, struggling. The staff is right there, they don’t even care.”

It’s some bleach-blonde, overly tan older woman talking on her phone and just standing there gawking at me. Not offering to help, just sitting there absolutely trashing the Best Buy staff on my behalf.

Who seriously stands there and bitches about a total stranger’s customer service experience?

After listening to it for a couple of minutes I finally turn around.

“Hi. Hey. I’m fine. I told them I got this.”

She stares like it never occurred to her I could hear everything she’s saying.

“They should be helping you. You’re doing this all by yourself.”

“They’re fine. They were helping earlier. I told them to go back in, because I had to take it out of the box to fit it in my car.”

“They couldn’t help you?”

I blink. “They aren’t allowed to help with this stuff, they’ll get in trouble. And I’m not going to waste a delivery just for the box. It fits fine like this.” Pat pat the snug, happy little tv just to prove my point.

“But- you’re struggling.”

She says it like I am a soft delicate baby bird trying to lift a brick (instead of a grown-ass woman in heels and pearls who just called a cardboard box a ‘fucknugget’). Like the very concept of struggling with something alone is the stuff of Lifetime movies.

“Yeah… So?”

She looks deeply confused.

It occurs to me that women like her are not used to solving problems on their own. Someone always helps them. Someone has always been there to help them. And when they don’t, she just has to pitch a fit until they do. I’m used to being left to do things on my own. It’s second nature now. I remember my first job, and getting heatstroke on my 18th birthday from carrying dozens and dozens of folding chairs up a hill in 90+ degree weather.
The older couple whose party I was catering (only supposed to be doing the food setup, but they told me to bring the chairs in and I was too young to put my foot down and say ‘that isn’t my job’) stood there watching me, drinking cokes from the personal vending machine in their garage.

I think about asking this lady why, if she’s so concerned she doesn’t grab an end and help me lift, instead of taking her vicarious ire out on the poor customer service people. I wonder if she would have cared if I wasn’t wearing my designer pants or my White Room top (both thrift store finds). But I’m happy for her to just go away.

As soon as I’m done, the Best Buy guy rushes out and offers to throw away the empty box for me. I tell him about the lady and what just happened. He was super sweet and absolutely didn’t deserve to be dragged by that lady.

Every Life has a Moment ~Olicity Fic 5/5

Well first of all I can’t thank my amazing Tumblr family enough for the heaps of endless support. I’m truly in awe of this talented fandom. I’m also completely honored that so many of you think I’m one of you talented souls. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart! 

Read it here or on AO3

You’re My Moment

Chapter 5

Present day… 

The rain pelted against the stained glass of the foyer angrily, the sky shook with thunderous rage before it became lit from the endless streaks of lightning. She slowly began her silent count….the room around her grew dark, the clock behind her ticked, the fingers along its face moved steadily, the clouds outside grew steadily darker…

Her mouth curved, her bottom up formed a small U while her upper lip mirrored the other. She felt the vibration of the storm racing through her veins. The rain was her blood, the thunder her heart and the lightning her soul. Felicity breathed deeply just as the sky roared…

“You still do that?” came a quiet voice from the doorway behind her still form. 

Her smile was small but earnest in nature, “Yeah, why don’t you do things to ease your nerves? she asked just when the sky grew bright. ‘

The voice behind her grew closer; the tenor grew soft and, the inflection hopeful. “I do, but generally I don’t have to wait for a massive thunder storm to decompress.” 

Felicity’s laugh was one of honest amusement, “Peanut you like your brother have a way with words.” 

“He’s also your husband…” she teased lightly then added softly, “Even if mom and dad don’t yet know it…” 

Felicity’s shoulders fell just as Thea’s words washed away the peace of the approaching storm. “Are you and Ollie really going to pretend you didn’t get married almost a year ago?” 

She shook her bent head and raised her hands into the air above her bent head, “I knew he couldn’t lie to you…” she merely noted with amused knowledge. “I knew he’d crack the moment he saw your sweet smile,” she laughed mostly to herself. 

“Please you would have cracked even faster,” she scolded with the grace of her mother. 

Keep reading

Winter’s Child PART 2

Missiya was a problem, she cried for the majority of the night, refusing to stop unless the soldier picked her up and held her against his chest, then she would be fascinated by pulling at his harness, or chewing on the buckles. She would grab fistfuls of his hair and at one point he was trying to dissuade her from sucking on his chin. He had been holding her in his right arm whilst he opened the fridge with his left, staring into it with little interest – he relied on the handlers to provide him food and now he was going to have to remember how to cook. Winter had been half way to reaching for bread when a wet hiccup made him freeze, his jaw clenched in disgust as he turned his head down to see milky baby vomit rolling down his sleeve and chest, ’…I hate you.’ Missiya giggled and pat his cheek.

Winter put her down, unfastened his tactical gear and pulled the leather from his body, flinging it to the corner in disgust. ‘You think this is funny?’ She clapped her hands and bounced excitedly, oblivious to his ire and not comprehending that his glare was not friendly. 'Just sleep. Go to sleep and stay that way so I can work.’ He needed to eat, he had to prepare for the next phase of the mission and she was sabotaging his every effort. Winter snatched up the remote on the table and turned the television on, he didn’t watch it usually, it was always background noise for him whilst his handlers watched it, he flicked through the channels until he found something vaguely colourful and childlike – some sort of purple hippo or…dinosaur? 'Learn how to count or something.’ Winter tossed the remote back down once her eyes were glued to the screen and headed back to the kitchen, shoving a piece bread in his mouth and staring into the fridge at all the food he didn’t want or even recognise.
He didn’t usually have to provide himself sustenance and so the task frustrated him, took him away from his mission and made him think. Pulling out a cardboard box with a picture of lasagne on the front he pulled the meal out and pierced the film lid before tossing it into the microwave – a chorus of “I love you, You love me, we’re one big family” from the strange animal he now knew to be named Barney made him wish he’d just followed orders.

He spent the rest of the dark hours eating rubbery food, listening to people dressed as primary colours sing at him and cleaning his rifle as Missiya lay asleep along the outside of his thigh. When the sun began to peek through the dusty windows he picked the baby up and headed toward an empty room, she slept peacefully against his chest, her thumb stuffed into her mouth and a peaceful expression that made Winter want to hold her a little longer. Instead he placed her on the bed against the wall and used his body to block her from falling off the other side – he never moved in his sleep so he had no fear of rolling onto her. He doubted she would give him enough rest but he was asleep before he could truly gripe about it.

-

Missiya had allowed the Soldier four hours of sleep before she woke up screaming, desperate to be fed and her nappy wet against her delicate skin. He changed her and fed her before falling back onto the sofa with her on his lap, Winter switched the television onto the cartoons and leaned his head against the back of the sofa to try and catch a little more sleep whilst Missiya was distracted. His mind went through his mission, the building he needed to infiltrate, where he would have to set himself up to take his target’s life, a single shot from the sniper rifle would be sufficient and then he could escape without a soul ever knowing he was there – a ghost.
Though he knew he was running low on supplies for the baby and he backtracked his escape route so that he would pass by a baby shop… But it was cold outside and she would need warmer clothing before he left on the mission.

That was how HYDRA’s deadliest weapon ended up walking through the aisles of a baby store, a worn pair of jeans – loose enough to slip his knives into – and a black hoodie hiding as much of him as he could. Several people stared at the hooded figure, his presence was menacing but when the baby in his left arm giggled and babbled they felt a little more at ease. Blue eyes shifted left and right often, surveying the area as he picked up nappies, baby formula and food, a woman had chastised him already for buying milk powder for Missiya’s age, then he stared at clothes for so long that one of the assistants braved getting close, 'Can…I help you, Sir?’

Winter clenched his jaw and shifted Missiya in his arm before speaking quietly, 'Warm clothes, easy to put on.’ The young woman asked if he had a preferred price range and at a shake of his head she rushed about the racks, grabbing onesies, socks, shoes, tiny little mittens and anything she could get her hands on really until he told her to stop. He was almost through paying when a wet hiccup alerted him to the baby’s favourite trick of being sick down his back.

'She’s one of those kids then?’ The woman smiled and put something in his bag, 'It’s for after you feed her, saved having to wash your clothes so often… Are you burping her properly?’ Winter’s eyebrows scrunched up in confusion and she continued, 'New dad, right? Some babies like their backs rubbed, some are more into patting, she’s a little big to get reflux like that but it’s not unusual in formula fed babies – you should really wean her off -’

'Thank you.’ Winter interrupted and made his escape before she really got into a lecture. He returned to the safe house, changing into his tactical gear and then dressing Missiya, slightly horrified at the fuchsia onesie with a hood and floppy bunny ears. It was thick and warm, he was confident she wouldn’t be cold as he packed nappies, an extra blanket and food into his rifle bag. With her safely in her carrier the Winter Soldier began his next mission – baby at his side.

-

Winter was still as death as he lay on his front in the cramped ceiling space of an old building, a few squatters had seen him but they said nothing as he climbed up into a vent with a baby. He was covered in a fine spray of frost, fingers felt numb but he knew his pressure on the trigger was perfect, his vision never faltered from the lens of his rifle – the only thing he moved was his foot. Tipping the baby carrier in a gentle rocking motion that kept Missiya in her peaceful slumber, there was an ache in his ankle from the repetitive up and down.

When his target had finally arrived at the designated spot Winter followed him carefully and waited. Waited for a clear shot, unconsciously avoiding collateral victims until finally… Finally he pulled back the trigger.

One shot.

One body.

He packed his equipment quickly and efficiently, gently tucking the baby back into her blanket before vanishing from the scene of the crime and melting into the crowds like a ghost.

TBC

@thiddlestoff @addalaidehoran @lostinspace33 @lilasiannerd @loverbug1123

Panic! At The Apartment

Request: Could you do another Ryan Ross imagine where you’re friends with everyone in panic! but for some reason you don’t like Ryan and everyone else eventually has enough and locks you both in a room or closet to sort it out and at first you don’t cooperate but then you start talking and spend hours bonding and you don’t even realise they unlocked the door?

A/N- An opportunity to write about Ryan Ross will never be turned down. I went with this concept, but added a little creative twist to it. I hope you enjoy! REQUESTS ARE OPEN! If you liked this, please be sure to let us know! 


“Ross, why don’t you fucking watch where you’re going?”

“Oh, I’m sorry. With such a big ego, anyone could bump into you, so am I really at fault?”

You glared at Ryan Ross. That was the third time he had accidentally bumped into you, and you were sick of it.

“Listen, I am so sick of your melodramatic-”

“Guys! Holy shit, can’t you get along for two seconds?” Brendon looked at the two of you, sighing and running a hand through his hair, “We can’t all hang out together peacefully for more than three minutes”

“Well, Bren, that’s because you decided to invite Y/N.”

You scoffed. “Excuse me? Anywhere we go there’s always a problem with the sensitive Ryan Ross. Oh no! They didn’t give the poor baby enough ketchup for his fucking French fries! Lets through a giant fit!

“They didn’t! They think a drop the size of my thumb will last for an entire basket?!”

You groaned. “Oh god, there he goes again.”

Spencer sighed from where he was sitting on the couch. “All you do is bicker, bicker, bicker.”

“Maybe we should just force them to sit in a room long enough to spew all their insults so that by the time we cut them loose, we’ll all have one less headache.” Jon chimed in, obviously joking.

You glared at him then glanced over at Brendon who had that look on his face. It meant no good.

“Don’t you think for a second that I am going to go anywhere near him by myself, Urie.”

Ryan shook his head quickly and took a step back from you. “That goes for me, too. Hell will freeze over before I go anywhere near Y/N.”

Brendon sighed and looked at the other two guys of Panic! who were obviously getting sick of the constant fighting too. Ever since you could remember, you and Ryan were always at it, finding a new way to insult the other, or the smallest thing to debate. You had no problem with Brendon or Jon or Spencer. They were nice guys, and always very welcoming. But something about Ryan rubbed you in all the wrong ways, and something about you rubbed him in even worse ways. No one could get the other to cooperate.

The simple solution was to stop inviting you to any functions, but you had grown up with the guys. Ever since they had a following of about ten people, you were the first. When something career changing happened, you were always the first to get the call. And you loved it. You just didn’t love Ryan.

“You know what? I think I’m just going to head home.” You sighed, looking at the three members you could actually get along with, smiling slightly. “It’s been a long day.”

Spencer looked over at Ryan who just shrugged, and then stood up, pulling you into a hug. “Okay, take care, have a nice drive home.”

You smiled and hugged him back, nodding. Jon hugged you soon after, followed by Brendon who squeezed you so tight that he lifted you off your feet for a few brief seconds.

“We still on for tomorrow?” He asked, his eyes bright.

You smiled softly and nodded. “Of course. I’ll be at your place, say around four?” Brendon was planning on moving out of his small apartment and into his new home that he had recently made the leap in purchasing. You were going to help him pack everything into identical rectangular cardboard boxes and keep him entertained.

He nodded and gave you a thumbs up. You smiled and put on your jacket, then headed out, being sure to give Ryan a death glare on your way out. He readily returned the favor.


“Okay guys, here’s the plan.” Brendon gathered Spencer and Jon in a circle after Ryan had left to go feed his cat. “Jon, you were onto something. I’m beyond convinced we won’t get them to cooperate unless we get them in the same room together, and they actually talk.”

Jon looked at him with a quizzical expression. “Well, how in the hell are we going to do that? They can barely stand five feet away from each other. There’s no way we’re going to fool them into a closet to play seven minutes in heaven or some shit.”

Spencer was quiet for a moment before looking at Brendon. “Not unless they don’t know they’re walking into the trap.”

“I love that look on your face. What are you implying?” Brendon sat up a little.

“Say, Ryan helps you pack and move out of your apartment too? You invite him an hour earlier, right? Tell him he can leave as soon as Y/N arrives. Then text Y/N that there’s been a change of plans. Y/N still has a key to your place right?”

Brendon nodded a small smirk on his face. “Y/N gets there while I conveniently go fetch Ry and I some drinks, so when she unlocks the door, Ryan is inside and I’m not there.”

Spencer grinned excitedly and nodded. Jon looked between the two of them and laughed slightly. “Well, if you guys are legitimately serious about this, I know a guy who could manipulate your lock so it only opens from the outside.”

“You’re my man, Walker. I could kiss you right now.” Brendon grinned and slapped him on the back. “‘So what are we waiting for?! Let’s do this.”


You knocked on the door once, twice, three times. And still no answer. Sighing, you fished for the key to Brendon’s apartment. “God damn it, Urie. You make me come early, and don’t even have the decency to open the door.”

Rolling your eyes fondly with the image of Brendon getting too distracted from finding a knick knack he collected years ago to come to the door, you unlocked the door, walking in and hanging your coat, then closing the door.

“Y/N? What the hell are you doing here?”                                

Your blood immediately boiled as you heard his voice. You turned, and to your unfortunate surprise, there he was, Ryan Ross sitting on the floor of the nearly empty apartment. “The question is what the hell are you doing here? And where’s Brendon?”

“I was told he needed extra help,” He shrugged, looking at his watch on his skinny wrist, “You’re not supposed to be here for another hour. Brendon went out to get us a couple of drinks.”

You frowned and looked at him. “You mean to tell me Brendon isn’t here?”

He shook his head.

“But I could have sworn he said he need- oh no…” Immediately you went to the door and tried to open it. To your dismay, it wouldn’t budge. You groaned loudly.

“What are you on about, Y/N?” Ryan furrowed his eyebrows and walked over to the door and tried to open it. When it wouldn’t budge he smirked and turned the lock. “Maybe if you had a brain you would have tried unlocking it first.” Again, he tried to open it and it didn’t budge.

“You were saying?” You glared at him, stepping back from the door. Just then Ryan’s phone began ringing. He sighed in relief and held it up. “It’s Bren.”

“Well, what are you waiting for then?! Pick it up!”

Ryan made a face then picked up the phone. “Hello? What? Why? Okay fine… give me a second.” He pulled the phone away from his ear and clicked a button on the screen.

“SURPRISE FUCKERS.”

“Brendon?!” You immediately rushed towards the phone and took it from Ryan. “What the fuck is this?”

“You’ve just been punk’d! But no seriously. We’re locking you in the apartment. Get along will you? Also maybe pack for me. That still needs to be done. Oh, and don’t try to escape. We covered all the windows and doors. Have fun! Love you!”

And with that, he hung up. You stood there in shock for a moment as Ryan snatched the phone back. “I can’t believe this. They didn’t fucking do this to me. I swear, I’m leaving those fuckers as soon as they let me out.”

You glared at him. “You fucking say that three times a week, you’re not fucking leaving.”

“Well maybe I might this time.” He shook his head and sat back down on the couch. “I mean seriously, out of all the people in the god damn world, they chose you. I can’t stand this.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re sitting then.” You smirked slightly, then sighed. “Fuck, I don’t want to be here.”

“You think I do?”

“Oh god, please just shut up Ross, you’re giving me headache. That voice is the most annoying thing in the world.”

“The most annoying thing in the world is you constantly stating the obvious. I have a fucking brain you know.”

“Oh yeah?” You glared at him, then sat down in front of a box and a bunch of belongings that were supposed to be neatly packed into it. “Is it the size of a pea? Because I’ve been wondering for ages.”

Ryan rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Oh put a god damn sock in it.”

You scoffed and shook your head, then started neatly stacking things into the box as the pansy just sat there and watched. After a while, he stated calmly. “There’s no way in hell you’re going to get all that in there if you do it like that.”

You looked up at him. “You’re not doing anything to help, so maybe just shut up so I can get this done and we can get out of here.”

He smirked and shrugged. “Continue, by all means.”

15 minutes later

“God damn it.” You sighed and started unpacking everything again. “Don’t even say it, Ross, or I will use a kitchen knife to cut your tongue out.”

Ryan couldn’t help but laugh and finally got off the couch and knelt down next to you. “You need to put the big stuff in first then tuck the smaller shit in the little nooks.” He took the current item in your hand and placed it in the box at an angle that didn’t take too much room.

You sat back and watched him carefully. “And when did you become the expert on packing?”

“In case you were too busy focusing on yourself, I live my life on the road. I have to be good at packing to survive.”

“Well… fuck you.” You sighed and handed him another object as he smirked smugly and put it in the box. Together, you managed to finish the box in less than ten minutes.

“Well, looks like you are actually good at one thing, Ross.” You muttered quietly.

He just laughed and shook his head. “Come on, I’m good at everything.”

Two hours later

“That’s the last of Brendon’s shit. All that’s left are the couches and that ugly kitchen table.”

You looked at Ryan and laughed slightly. “So, I’m not the only one who thinks it’s horrendous?”

“Oh god no. It doesn’t even match the chairs. Sometimes I wonder what goes through that man’s head.”

You laughed and shook your head, “That makes two of us, Ross.”

Smirking, he sat back down on the couch. “And my question was, the other two were with them. How in the hell did they not stop him? That thing is an atrocity. Not even Spencer stopped him! It’s beyond me.”

“Looks like everyone but the two of us have good taste in kitchen furniture.” You pushed Ryan’s legs off the couch and sat down next to him. “Never in a million years would I subject house guests to that thing.”

He sat up a little straighter and laughed. “Hey, you’re actually kind of funny, Y/N. Who the fuck knew?”

You rolled your eyes and shifted slightly on the couch, frowning slightly at an uneven spot in the cushion. You turned slightly and lifted it up to reveal a sock with little aliens printed on them. Ryan immediately lit up and took it from you. “Holy shit! I’ve been looking for this for the past year!”

You gave him a look that suggested you weren’t very impressed, but he only laughed. “This is the other sock to my favorite pair of socks! I lost it, but I figured I’d left it in a shady hotel room somewhere in Ohio.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re seriously that excited about a fucking sock. Oh my god, Ross.”

“Well, what else is there to be excited about?! I’m sitting in Brendon’s shitty apartment with that nasty table and I’m stuck with you. Bless this sock!” His voice had taken a more playful tone, so you only smirked softly and shook your head.

Thirty minutes later

“All I’m saying is I don’t think that’s how an actual alien would look like. You think any life source out there would be smart enough to let the simple human race see what they really look like and depict them on socks? No fucking way!”

Ryan glared playfully at you and shook his head. “Well, I think you’re wrong. My socks are perfect. And if aliens don’t look like this, it’s all a lie.”

“Hey, now that we have a sock, I can actually put it in your mouth to shut you up!” You looked at him, grinning slightly. “Only take it out once you realize how right I am.”

“Watch it. I happen to know you’re ticklish. I’ve seen Jon tickle you.”

You gasped dramatically, mocking him from before. “You mean, you actually pay attention to something more than yourself?”

And with that, Ryan Ross did something you never thought would happen. He started to tickle you.

An hour later

“Do you think Brendon was smart enough to leave us food?”

“No, but Spencer probably was.” Ryan got up with a wink and headed to the kitchen. He grinned in delight and called out. “We’re in luck! Chinese takeout with our names on it!”

You laughed and walked into the kitchen standing right behind him and placing your chin on his shoulder. “Well, at least Spencer doesn’t have bad taste in food.”

Ryan grinned and shook his head slightly, glancing at you. “Oh no, this was definitely Jon’s doing. He probably feels the worst about locking us up.”

You laughed and nodded. “Good point. Put that in the microwave. I’m starving.”

When the food was finally ready, you both ate straight out of the box and continued your conversation. The last two hours and forty five minutes hadn’t been as bad as expected. Ryan was actually incredibly smart. Something you hadn’t realized since you’d never actually held a conversation with him. He could talk about anything and put it in a way you had never thought of before. His mind worked in the way that no one else’s did. Suddenly, you began to understand every song he had written. Every little comment he said. It all started to click and he didn’t seem like quite an ass anymore.

You sat back on the couch and looked at him. “So tell me, Ryan Ross. What’s your biggest fear?”

He looked at you for a moment then took a moment to think about it and nodded. “Being forgotten.” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah. I don’t know. It’s stupid really. Growing up, I had a pretty shitty father. The attention I did get wasn’t all that positive. If it weren’t for Spencer, I wouldn’t have made it out.”

You nodded slightly, recalling that Ryan and Spencer had been close for ages. “Yeah… I get that. That’s kind of me and Brendon.”

He looked at you and smiled. “When we meet Brendon, and then went through Brent, and found Jon, everything just kind of fell into place for me. I found somewhere I belonged, somewhere I could make an impact. Somewhere someone actually gave a damn about what I had to say. And then I became Ryan Ross of Panic! At The Disco. If someone were to forget that… or me… well, I don’t know. It’s not exactly a nice thought.”

You nodded a bit, quiet for a moment, and then said, with a smile. “Well, if it’s worth anything, you’re too annoying to forget.”

He chuckled and looked at you, nodding. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

You couldn’t help but smile and nod. The rest of the night was spent with conversations like those. Without the distraction of the phones, that had run out of battery a while ago, and with Brendon’s fun stuff packed into not as fun boxes, all you could do was talk. But you weren’t complaining. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

You found out you both liked similar stuff and were annoyed by the same stuff the guys did, and by the time Brendon decided to let you out, you didn’t even notice the door open.

“Erm… guys?” You both looked up to see Brendon standing at the door with a wide smile on his face.

You groaned playfully and finally got up. “Thank God, I was about to murder him.”

“Hey! That’s my best friend!” Spencer grinned, walking into the room.

Ryan laughed and winked at him.

“You’re welcome for the food by the way.” Jon walked in shortly after, smirking softly. “They wanted to get you shady sandwiches from that suspicious restaurant down the street.”

“Jon Walker, you are my hero.” You laughed and pulled him into a hug. Soon enough, all the boys joined you in the hug, and when you felt Ryan’s arm around your waist, you didn’t complain.

“Oh, by the way, Bren, thanks for stealing my fucking sock. It took ages to for me to find it.”

“Hey… woah, woah, woah, Ross. I found it.”

“You did not. I sat on the right side of the couch for you to find it on the left. Duh.”

“But-”

“Guys, I swear if this whole stunt was for noth-”

“Y/N, mind continuing this debate over coffee tomorrow?”

You couldn’t help but laugh and nod. “I’d be honored, Ross.”

Mafia AU Pt.7

pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6


At around 12 Namjoon leaves, and leaves you with Jungkook. You two chat a little and watch dramas together. Out of all of them you’re the most comfortable with him. He doesn’t scare you like Namjoon and Yoongi, or try mother you like Jin.

“Hungry?” you ask, looking at the clock it’s already 2.

“Yeah starving,” he admitted, laughing.

“Why didn’t say something? Aish.. this boy,” you say, punching him playfully. “I’ll order some chicken.”

You order the chicken and wait for it to arrive. You hear a knock on the door, and jump up. Your hand is on the doorknob, but Jungkook grabs your wrist.

“Check first who it is,” he said going to the curtain.

“Wait, let me. If they see you…” you say. Bambam is at your door, holding the chicken.

“Go hide in my room,” you tell Jungkook, pointing to your room. He opens his mouth to protest, but push away from the door.

“Hello Bambam,” you say stiffly.

“Hey Y/N!” he smiled happily.

“Why couldn’t you let the delivery guy do his job?” you ask, pointing at the chicken.

“I just wanted to see you,” he answered.

“Just give me my food and leave,” you answer, reaching for it. He hide it behind his back. You scowl.

“I’m hungry Bambam, give it,” you snap.

“So am I,” Bambam said.

“Then give me my food and go buy yourself a sandwich,” you answer.

“Let’s eat together,” he said, trying to walk past you, but you block the door.

“No, get out,” you say, grabbing the plastic bag, and shutting the door on him. You lock it, just in case. You watch him from the window. He walks down the stairs, and leans against the pillar.

“You can come out,” you call still at the window.

“Did you get the food?” Jungkook asked, taking the bag from you. He looks inside, and lets out excited yell, you hush him quickly. Looking back out the window, you see BamBam looking up at you. You mouth that it’s the TV and he nods.

“Let’s just eat,” you say, your nerves kicking in. You barely touch your food, and let Jungkook finish it.

“You okay?” he asked after you’ve put away the dishes. You nod, but then shake your head, tears prickling the corner of your eyes. You began to sob, your shoulders shaking with sobs. Jungkook wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him. You sob into his shirt, grabbing the shirt in you fists. He rubs your back in circles, comforting you. You stop crying, and look up at him.

“Sorry about your shirt,” you mumble, embarrassed by your break down.

“It’s okay, I understand, it must be really hard on you,” he answered with a sad smile.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to break down… I just, faking it, and hiding you guys… I didn’t want to be part of this, and yet, I know I should go with you, but I can’t. I don’t want them to hunt you,” you blubber.

“It’s okay, I’ll stay here till you fall asleep, don’t worry about us,” he murmured, you nod, leaning back into him. You can hear his heartbeat, and slowly you relax and fall asleep.

You wake with a start, and loud knocking at your door. You look around Jungkook is gone, your apartment empty. The knocking continues and you get up. Groaning, you open the door, Yoongi and Taehyung push past you.

“What the fuck? What if they see you? Are you crazy?” you half shout.

“They won’t see us,” Taehyung smiled, you shiver at the look on his face.

“Change of plans Y/N, pack your stuff. You have 5 minutes,” Yoongi said, looking out the window, a gun in his hand.

“Wait, w-what?” you say flustered. You decide not to ask and you run into your room, throwing random stuff into a duffel. A few minutes later, Yoongi runs in and grabs your wrist, you stumble after him, trying to keep the bag closed.

“What’s going on, Yoongi? What happened?” you ask as they lead out of the house. He doesn’t answer, but leads you to a car, he opens the door to the back, you crawl in. Taehyung slides into the passenger seat. Yoongi begins to drive, breaking several traffic laws. You cower in the backseat clutching the duffel to your chest.

“Taehyung, what’s going on? I thought we were going to wait until tonight to leave,” you say.

“Sorry, Y/N, Namjoon doesn’t want to wait any longer,” he said, wiping blood off his hands on his shirt. You stare at the blood.

“Where are you taking me?” you ask, starting to feel like JB was right. Maybe you shouldn’t have gone with them afterall.

“To base, you’ll be safe there,” Yoongi said, serving around a car. The motion sends you flying to the other side of the car. You shoulder hits the window with a loud crack. Pain shoots up your arm, but you straighten yourself in your seat. Fewer and fewer cars began to pass you, and you turn onto a gravel road. The car bounces back and forth, sending you bouncing again, and again against the window. The car stops suddenly, sending you forward into Yoongi seat. You shift back into your seat, your shoulder aches with pain. The door opens, and Taehyung is holding the door open for you. You climb out, shaking like a leaf.

“It’s fine, you’re safe,” Taehyung said, wrapping his arm around your shoulders guiding you into a large warehouse. The outside was rusted, the dark red paint peeling. Boarded up windows decorated the facade, and glass littered the floor outside, crunching under your feet. Taehyung takes you inside, your breath leaves your body. Despite the decerpt outside, inside was well decorated, and comfortable. In the back, sounds of machines greeted your ears, craning your neck, you see giant cargo crates.

“Come on, Namjoon wants to see you,” Yoongi says, you follow him into an elevator. The elevator creeps up and up, people come in and out. Some came in with guns, or bloody rags, or cardboard boxes. You tried to shrink yourself into the corner. After a while only Taehyung, Yoongi, and you remained. The elevator stopped, and you followed them into a hallway. It was dim, and the red carpet underneath your feet muffled the sound of your footsteps. Paintings hung on the wall, from a brief glance you could tell they were expensive. Yoongi pushed the large oak doors open, waiting for you to pass through. You did, your legs feeling like jelly. Inside there was a pool table in the middle, and chairs scattered here and there. The walls were covered with floor to celing bookcases, or paintings. The large bay windows in the back, let in plenty of light. A large oak desk was in front of the window, behind it was Namjoon. He was shuffling papers, muttering to himself. His gun was next to hand.

“Hyung, we brought her,” Yoongi drawled, plopping down on a nearby chair, closing his eyes. Namjoon looked up, his cold eyes, warming up when they saw you.

“Hello, Y/N,” he said smiling, you nod back, unable to talk. “You look like death, Jimin get her something, Jin check if she is pain.”

Jimin left the room, and Jin came rushing towards you. You let him manhandle you. He rotated your arm, and you let out a squeal of pain. He frowned, and began to examine your shoulder.

“Yoongi, you should have driven more carefully, you’ve bruised her shoulder pretty badly. She almost broke it,” Jin scolded. Yoongi grunted in response. Jin went back to checking you.

“Lift up your shirt,” he orders.

“W-what?” you stammer.

“Your sleeve, I need to see your shoulder,”  he said, scoffing at your remark. You roll up your sleeve, he begins to bandage it, putting ointment. Jimin came back in with a plate of food.

“Here,” he said handing you the plate. You take it gratefully, and began to nibble on the sandwich.

“So, Y/N feeling better? Sorry for the sudden recall, we really couldn’t wait much longer, Jungkook got himself caught, and we couldn’t let them kill you,” Namjoon explained. You glance at Jungkook, a bruise is blooming on his cheek, his arm seems to be cut up as well.

“You alright?” you ask, he nods smiling.

“For now, you will stay here, don’t worry about us, and don’t worry about your life. You are safe, they don’t know this place,” Namjoon said, you nod, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Hosek will take you to your room.”

“Come on, Y/N,” Hosek says, walking towards the door. You glance back at Namjoon, but his silver haired head was already bowed, engrossed in his papers. You follow Hosek, back into the elevator. This trip was much shorter. You come out into a hallway, the hardwood floor creaking under your weight. The baby blue walls seemed oddly happy in such a place. Hosek stops in front of a door labeled 16, he opened the door. You thank him and look around your new home.

A twin bed was tucked in a corner, a white lace covering at the foot of the bed covered the white covers. On the far wall, a large wardrobe stood next to a dressing table. A desk was against the right wall, a closed laptop on top, a small stack of books in the corner. A door on the left lead to a small bathroom. It only had a shower, toilet, and a small porcelain sink. It was a downgrade from your comfortable apartment in the center of town. A window above the desk let in weak light from the outside. You drop your bag on the nearby chair, and began to unpack. You began to play music, singing along to Block B’s “Jackpot,” you hips swaying in time. You try to ignore the clinical smell that lingered in the room. You open the window, letting a slight breeze come in. You finish unpacking just as you hear screams come through the window, breaking your fragile peace.

You run over and stick your head out of the window. Down below Jimin and Taehyung had metal bats, someone was standing in front of them. Jimin lifted the bat and brought it down with a sickening smack on the back of man’s knees. He let out yelped, falling to the ground.

“You thought we wouldn’t notice you sneaking around selling your junk on our turf?” You hear Jimin say.

“No- no, I-I’m sorry, please-I w-won’t do it a-again, please,” the man blubbered.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it, you said that last time. But you did it again anyways. Namjoon is not happy,” Taehyung said, kicking the man the stomach. The man curled into a ball, Jimin brought the bat down again his ribs, the cracking sound ringing through the courtyard. Other members walked around them, unfazed.

“Bye, bye worm,” Taehyung says, pulling out a gun. He pointed at the man pulling the trigger. Blood and brains splattered over the ground, Jimin kicked the body, so it rolled over. You let out a gasp, now you knew what JB had been protecting you from. Jimin hears you and looks up.

“Y/N!!” he exclaims, looking surprised. You duck back into your room, shutting the window. You fall back onto the bed, shaking. The sound of the gunshot ringing in your ears. A knock broke you out of your shock.

“Y/N, it’s Jimin, I’m sorry you had to see that,” Jimin says through the door. “Open up, come on. I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”

You don’t move, frozen, just staring at the door. You hear quiet talking and then Taehyung begins to knock instead.

“Please, Y/N, you know we aren’t going to hurt you, come on,” he pleads. You stand up slowly, dragging your feet along the carpet. You slowly open the door. Taehyung and Jimin are standing there, blood on their shirts and hands. You see the silver gun poking out of Taehyung’s back pocket.

“You okay?” Jimin asked, reaching out to comfort you, you recoil.

“You killed a man,” you manage to say, your voice cracking like shattered glass.

“We have to, it’s our job. But we won’t kill you, don’t worry. If anyone hurts you, well…” Taehyung said smiling. You grimace, but nod.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow, I think I am going to sleep now,” you say, eager to end this conversation. They nod, you close the door, and crawl under the covers, trying to keep the image of the man’s brain splatter out of your head.


A/N: Sorry it’s so long!!! ㅠㅠ I also apologize for not updating as often, I have finals and such (kill me). Enjoy!! ^^ OPEN FOR REQUESTS! 

1D Plus Sized Series // He Denys Dating You Pt. 3 - Harry (submission) 

part 1 / part 2 

(A couple of months after graduation, say 6 months … Y/N is home for the holiday.)

It’s been months since you’ve seen Harry, you weren’t particularly complaining but you still had moments when you missed him dearly. How he’d look deep into your eyes, how he’d hold your waist when you made him tea in the morning on the weekends. Or when he’d order your favorite dessert at the restaurant you guys always go to right outside of town… And then you remember why you’d go there “No one will recognize us in the country love… It’s just safer that way.” He’d explain solemnly.

You’d just nod at his words in silence. That was the night you began to look at yourself in a different light. You began to really doubt the beauty you were so use to see. You knew you were curvier than the average girl but you loved your body and you loved how Harry would love on your body but that day was the day he made you rethink any type of self love. But it was over now.

Since prom, Harry cut off all ties from you. He deleted your number, blocked you on all social media, and even left a cardboard box of your things on your porch in the rain. Leaving the box soggy with the picture and clothing inside. Even all the poems you wrote each other covering the bottom of the box, which was the first thing ruined. The ink from the paper bleeding into the album of picture you collected over the years, and gave to him on your three year anniversary (which, as cheesy as it was, on valentine’s day). When you picked up the box, carefully, you couldn’t help to choke out a silent sob. He just left it there in the rain, knowing you were home. Your fucking car was parked in the driveway for crying out loud. You looked inside and felt all the love, time, and full-on adoration for a man who just dropped off what your relationship stood for in the rain.

As for Liam, prom night was wonderful. He made you forget about Harry for the time being which you appreciated because after the little fiasco, people kept coming up asking if it was real and then showing the picture and text of you guys. Some felt bad, others thought the photos were just greatly photoshopped, the idiots. You left the prom feeling better than ever even with Liam, he said he’d love to go out with you sometime, which you happily agreed to. But you were still having Harry pain, you hoped he understood, (which he did).

But that was 6 months ago, and now you’re home from college for Thanksgiving and you couldn’t be more happier. You had all of your family around you, you could just feel the love all around. It’s exactly what you needed considering seeing Harry every damn day on campus, flirting and talking to girls. Wrapped around a different one every week. He even joined the most prestigious frat that was known for wired parties and womanizing. I guess you can say he was making up for lost time from the three year relationship with you cause it sure looked like it. You didn’t care honestly. At first of course it was like pouring salt on an open wound. You were mad as fuck but you soon got over it. There were tons of guys at this university for the picking. Not that you were looking in actuality. If it made him happy to be promiscuous, then by all means, enjoy the flock of ladies that want to bone you.

As you helped your mom cook, there was a knock on the door. “Y/N can you please answer that for me?” Your mother asked. You obliged and wiped your hands on you apron and walked to the door. It was Anne with Gemma. You were partly shocked but you cover it with an expression of happiness. “Hi, love how are you?!” Anne greeted, pulling you into a hug. “It’s so nice to see you two!” You admitted moving aside so they can come in further into the house. Suddenly it clicked in your head on how much time your mom and Anne have been spending time together. With Harry and you both being the youngest child, the shared the same anguish of the baby leaving the nest and having an empty house for once in their lives. “Oh Harry’s just getting something from the car, due hold the door for him? Lord knows how clumsy that boy can be.” Gemma giggled while following Anne into the kitchen. You quickly took off your apron and smoothed out the burgundy dress that fit perfectly on your breast and hips and flared out at the bottom. Your dad said the dress was more for cocktail hour rather than pigging out at thanksgiving. And there he was, clad in black jeans and Nike sneakers with a black sweater covering his arms and there was a girl, directly behind him texting away on her phone.

Did this sick bastard bring a date to your house for thanksgiving?!?! What in the actual FUCK?!?!?! You wanted to slam the door right on his face, as he juggled the items in his arms. Your fisted were balled up, and you felt the anger build up. He didn’t even look twice in your direction as he walked past the threshold with his date riding his coattails. You slammed the door and ran up to your room. You grabbed your phone and called your best friend Lydia. She answered it on the first ring. “He’s here Ly, in my house. Down stairs with a fucking DATE! Oh my God, I’m going to kill him.” You ranted pacing the floor in your room. “I thought you didn’t care what he did Y/N…” She answered without missing a beat. You blow out a deep sigh. “Well… I mean. I don’t but, who brings another girl to their ex-girlfriend’s house after a messy breakup?!?! Like we had sex in that very kitchen he’s standing in with that girl! Like right there on the floor!” I basically screamed. I just kept pacing the floor. Growing more and more antsy. “Y/N, you haven’t let his actions get to you for months? Why care now?” Lydia asked matter-of-factly. You knew she was right. You didn’t care then, so why care now. He was just in a closer proximity to you rather than across the quad or lecture hall. You stopped pacing and sat on the bed defeated. “It’s just… I’ve been thinking and reminiscing lately… When I saw him all those emotions, the good and the bad, just flooded into my system and when I saw that girl, I just… I don’t know. You’re right, I should not care at all.” I finished. Laying back on my bed, looking up at the ceiling. “I know I am, now go back down there and enjoy your family, okay? And save me some pie.” She chuckled out. You laughed and hung up.

You walked down stairs and joined everyone in the kitchen. The girl who we’ll call Jane Doe at the moment was sprawled out on Harry’s lap. You smiled to yourself when you seen the seat they were sitting in. You had sex there too you smirked in your head. You walked in next to your mom and got an apron back on and started cutting the veggies. “Y/N, I had no idea he was coming, let alone bringing a date… He was supposed to be at that girl's’ house but there was a change of plans… I’m so sorry…” Your mom whispered in your ear as you cut the carrots while everyone talked among themselves. “It’s fine Mom, honestly.” You smiled and kissed her cheek. “Oh, my litte lady. So mature.” She smiled, kissing your cheek. “So, how are your studies Y/N?” Anne asked making everyone looking at you. “Oh, it’s well thank you. A little nerve wracking because of midterms but still fun nonetheless.” You smiled. “Have you seen Harry around much?” She asked. You looked at Harry was staring you down. “Well, I’ve seen him walking to class and such. And that’s pretty much it.” You shrugged. “So you’ve been looking for me?” Harry smirked causing you to roll your eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself Styles.” You replied dryly. “Well I’ve seen you more than just walking to class love. I’ve seen you in some study halls, some pubs, some very grungy parties…” He trailed off smirking in satisfaction. Like he was releasing some type of confession of your doings in college. “Well if that’s not stalking I don’t know what is…” You spoke, tilting your head looking at him. Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. “Oh, please Y/N your life is not that interesting. Especially without me in it.” He laughed. He was poking jabs. “My life, for one is none of your business, and two, it wasn’t really that great when it did have you in it.” You stated. If he wanted to throw jabs, you were more than happy to throw sass right back. His eyebrow furrowed in anger. It was about to go down. Causing people to slowly leave the kitchen. This needed to happen.

“Oh! So it’s more interesting with who? Fucking Liam Payne!?!” He yelled angrily, pushing the girl off his lap, standing up in front of you. The countertop separating the two of you. “Well it felt nice for someone to dance with me and kiss me in public Harry! That’s interesting! Not having a little boy who’s afraid of some public ridicule due to the person they’ve been dating for three years! I was suppose to be the love of your life but you were scared to even tell your friends that we were together!” You yelled back, becoming more and more heartbroken, more and more angry.

“Oh will you let that go!?! I told you, they wouldn’t understand…” He trailed off. “Oh shove that excuse up your ass Harry! No one cared! And if they did, so what!?! It was us together not them! You say you wanted me all to yourself and how they didn’t understand but what if it was the other way around? What if I pretended to not know you at school? Having some other guy, that was “better looking” than you holding my hand and kissing me? Missing dates because my friends were having a party and I just couldn’t miss it? Chickening out on dates to places in town because i don’t want people to see me with you. Waiting hours and hours for me to show up, even though you know I’m not coming… You don’t know the emotional hurt I went through. The humiliation of waiting at a fancy restaurant on our second anniversary. Seeing you draped over a different girl every week isn’t showing me anything. It’s not making me jealous, it’s furthering my point. You will get girls that are more smaller than I am cause that’s what you think you look good with but not me. You refused me of PDA, the knowing I had someone there to hold hand and kiss me, and tell me they love me in public…” You sobbed looking at Harry who looked gutted. You ran upstairs to your room and cried into you pillow. So much for a relaxing holiday.

-Anonymous Submitter 

p.s. the author may or may not have also submitted a part 4 that i plan on posting in a few days ;) 

Companions React #7

Sole reacts to finding a picture of Hancock before he changed.

Sole took a step inside the old, dusty house, her feet creaking against the floorboards.  It had definitely seen better days, though she couldn’t picture it.  It was so rundown even raiders didn’t see fit to use it for shelter.  But it wasn’t all bad.  The roof was still intact, at least enough to get them through the night.  She wasn’t sure why Hancock was so against resting there, but his objections only made her curiosity swell.  The moment he fell asleep, exhausted from days of travel, she couldn’t help but trek to the house and explore.

She pushed on, leaving small footprints in the dust and grime.  A radroach leaped out without warning, but she was prepared.  One look at the wood told her that time wasn’t the only thing chewing away at it.  She grabbed her knife, stabbing humanely between the neck and back.  The bug died instantly, and served as a warning to any more nearby.

That done, she made her way to the kitchen.  It was easily in the worst shape.  The hinges on the cupboards had become so rusted that some of the doors hung open. Others completely detached, lying on the counter, blanketed with dirt.  Sole frowned and reached for a box of Sugar Bombs– at least that’s what it looked like– but the moment she touched it, the dry cardboard crumbled at her touch.  Shaking her hand free of the filth, she turned and faced the old table.  Three chairs lined the edges, one of them lying sideways on the floor. It hurt to think that had she not woken, and had Codsworth not been there, that her house would have looked the same way; neglected and decomposed.  She shook her head, perishing the thoughts.  She could tell by the table setting that once, at least three people lived there.  A family, perhaps?

Sighing, she worked her way down the hall.  Paintings hung on the walls, but the actual images had deteriorated, exposed for too long to the heat and harsh, airy moisture.  What a shame.  What a waste.  Her head hung as she past the bathroom, the marble tub cracked and mirror broken and smeared.  Nothing to see in there.  Nothing she hadn’t seen a hundred times.

Next to it was the master bedroom, small but spacious.  Only the bed frame remained, and a few pieces of furniture.  Likely, the place had been pillaged years ago.  There wouldn’t be anything worth taking or salvaging, but it never hurt to look.  Sole dragged her feet on the floor, shimmying past the misplaced dresser. As she stepped around it she heard a crunch.  A small picture frame sat underfoot, surrounded by broken glass.  She didn’t do it; it was broken ages ago, but she still felt guilty. She picked up the paper, tearing the edge as it had corroded to the floor.  Her eyes narrowed as she tried to perceive the image, but it was impossible. The damage was just too extensive.

As she made her way to the next room, she kept wondering why Hancock was so hell-bent on camping out in the open.  Sure it was messy, but with a quick sweep and the drop of a bedroll, it was better than sleeping outside. She shrugged, stepping into the room. Two beds stood across from each other, each mattress torn and covered in stains.  Any hint of technology had been taken, but it was easy to visualize where everything once was.  A radio, a T.V., a computer; they were all there once, but the only thing left now was a pile of mouldy clothes by the door.  Sole stifled a laugh.  This was a boy’s room, or rather the room of two brothers.  Having had two brothers herself, she knew the signs.

“Oh, Jacob.  Oh, Aiden.”

The memory of her family hit hard, the reminder too much to surmount.  She felt her knees shake as she took a much needed breath.  With a sigh, she fell back on one of the beds, the springs squeaking as the mattress sank.  It had become so worn that the soft, fluffy padding had completely deflated, and the moment it reached its limit, Sole felt something bulge beneath her butt.

“What this?” she asked, reaching between the mattress and box spring.

A small, black book slipped into her hand.  It was leather, still in good shape with only minor scuffs and gashes.  She tilted her head, flipping it over and back. It looked like a journal.  She turned slightly, facing the window for sunlight.  It was getting dark, but it was bright enough to see.  She clicked the button-lock and carefully lifted the cover.  She was right, it was a journal, but the pages were yellowed and the writing, scribed in pencil, had smudged beyond recognition.  Some words were legible, but if there was a story there, it was lost in time.

“Well, so much for that…” she sighed, turning the pages with her thumb.  "Wait a minute.“

Her fingers brushed a small pouch at the back.  It was so tight it was barely noticeable, but it wasn’t empty.  With an inquisitive hum, she pulled three photographs out of the crease.  They were laminated, protected and completely undamaged.  The first showed a woman feeding her baby as a little boy, no more than three or four, watched with his chin on the armrest.  Sole smiled, remembering her feedings with Shaun.  She switched to the next picture, seeing two boys at a table. Likely the same boys, but older, one wilfully antagonizing the other with a tato.  She turned it around, but the back was blank.

The last photograph was her only hope for answers.  Two young men smiled at the camera, arms joined and beers clinked together.  They looked happy, like a proper family.  The younger of the two was a bit more rugged, but definitely better looking.  His blond hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, and his blue eyes easily stole the shot.  Sole blushed, turning the picture sideways.  Her eyes widened at the words: McDonough brothers.  Seventeen and twenty-one.  That’s when it hit her.  The reason Hancock was so querulous.  She could hardly believe it, but she couldn’t keep it down.  Her voice pushed past her lips, her eyes locked on the suave man in the right corner.

"Hancock?”

“Been a while,” a raspy voice chimed.  Sole turned, seeing Hancock leaned against the doorway.

“Hancock!  I’m sorry, I–!”

“Don’t worry about it,” he waved.  "I’d be lyin’ if I said I wouldn’t do the same thing.“

"I should have respected your wishes,” she echoed, her eyes heavy with guilt.  "I should have listen when you said you didn’t want to come here.“

"Nah.  I should’ve explained myself.  Doesn’t make much sense, sleepin’ outside, on the ground, when there’s a semi-decent shelter here.”

Sole bit her lip, embarrassed.  "I’m really sorry.“

"Is it whatchya expected?” he grinned, ignoring the needless apology.

Sole gulped, finding her composure.  "What? What do you mean?“

"I mean, is it how ya expected me to look?”

Sole flinched, then looked back down at the photo.  "Honestly, I never really thought about it.“

Hancock snickered sarcastically.  "C'mon, love.  Ya don’t need to make me feel better.  It never crossed your mind, even once?”

Sole shook her head. “Honestly.  I’ve literally never thought about it.  I can’t imagine you looking any other way.  The man I met– the way you look now– I’ve always been content with that.  There was never another face I envisioned.”

Hancock stiffened, her words squeezing his chest.  "So … are ya disappointed?“

"What?”

"Well, uh … I mean, I wasn’t too hard on the eyes back then.  And I know ya didn’t approve when I told ya how I became a ghoul.”

“Well, sure, I thought it was a rash decision, but this doesn’t change anything.”  Sole dropped the photo, letting it glide onto the bed.  "I don’t know that man. I don’t know John McDonough.  All I know is Hancock.“  She smiled, making her way across the room. "And you know, it’s not as if you’re hard on the eyes now.”

Hancock blushed, his dark cheeks turning a shade brighter.  "Thanks, Sunshine.”  He kissed her neck and Sole giggled, pushing him away playfully. “I forgot those even existed,” he wisped.

He walked to the bed and grabbed the photo with the woman.  He stared silently, a melancholic smile stretching across his face.

“Is that your mom?” Sole asked, looking over his shoulder.  "She’s beautiful.“

"Most gorgeous creature on the planet,” he winked.  "Next to you, of course.  But that’s different.“

Sole’s face lit up at the compliment.  "Where was your father in all this?” she stuttered, flustered, but intrigued to learn more.

“Oh, that waste of space?” he grumbled.  Sole instantly regretting asking.  "I think this picture was the only thing he ever stuck around for.  Mom practically had to pull his teeth out to get him to take it, or so I was told.  And it’s a miracle his drunk hands stayed steady long enough to focus.  He spent the next couple a years in and out. Sometimes he’d bring food. Sometimes he’d bring his anger. We were more like a convenient rest stop than his family, really.“  He growled deeply.  "One night he came back just a bit too wasted, and he nearly beat my mom within an inch of her life.  If Guy and me hadn’t … hadn’t done what we did, he probably woulda killed her.”

Sole’s eyes darkened. “Did you kill him?”

“No,” he said quickly.  "But Guy sliced him up good.  I was only four at the time, but I grabbed our baseball bat and whacked him with all the strength I could muster.  By the time we finished, he was so out of it he hobbled outta here and never came back.  Don’t know if he died or found someone else to harass, but we never saw him again.  We searched for his body, but nothin’ turned up.  Not that we really cared.  He beat my mom so bad she never walked again.“

"My God.  I’m … I’m so sorry, Hancock.”

“Hey, it wasn’t all bad,” he chirped, throwing his arm over her shoulder.  "Despite everything, she was still the best damn mom a kid could ask for.  She took care of us; worked past her limitations, and we took care a her, too. When she got sick–“  He lowered his head, his smile fading. "Well, the years took their toll. You know how it is out here. That picture … was the last picture she ever took.”

Sole swallowed a lump in her throat.  "I’m sorry, Hancock….“

"S'all right,” he buzzed.  "After that, we just couldn’t stay here anymore.  Guy and me had a fallin’ out, so we took to the road for a change a pace. He’d become so brutal, to the point that he almost resembled my old man.  We spent years watchin’ each other backs, but somethin’ inside him changed when our mother died.  He became more dishonest, more ruthless, and obsessed with power.  Eventually, we made our way to Diamond City.  The rest ya know.“

Sole stared in silence, her eyes filled with pain.  Hancock noticed the expression.  That was why he didn’t want her to know.  He didn’t want the pity.  Not from her.  Not after everything she’d been through.  She went to speak, shining with sympathy, but he flicked her nose light-heartedly.

"Ow!” she cried, rubbing the nub.  "What was that for?“

"Now we’re even,” he grinned.  "Consider it payback for comin’ here when we agreed against it.“

Sole scratched her neck shamefully.  "I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizin’. No harm done.”  He gathered the photographs and slipped them back into the journal.  "Can’t believe I used to jot my days down,“ he mumbled.  "Guy always gave me a hard time about it.  Said it wasn’t somethin’ boys were supposed to do.”

Sole frowned, crossing her arms.  "I think it shows ambition and intelligence,“ she grit.

Hancock chuckled. "Yeah?  That does sound like me,” he praised.  Sole giggled as he helped her off the bed. “Hey.  Are you happy?  With me?”

“What?”

“I mean, with this face and how I used to look–”

Sole cupped his chin, meeting his gaze.  "I don’t care about the past,“ she soothed.  "I care about you.  I care about Hancock.  He’s the man I fell in love with.”

Hancock smiled, then gently pressed his lips into hers.  Sole took a sharp breath, lost in his embrace.  Eyes closed, he tossed the book onto the bed and bent her back, kissing her passionately.  Sole moaned, hugging his neck as her mouth curved into a smile.  When he pulled away, she looked up at him with a captivated expression.

“C'mon, love. Let’s get this freak show on the road.”

Sole laughed as he walked her out the door.  Before entering the hall, however, she ran back and grabbed the journal.  Hancock watched helplessly as she removed the pictures, picking one out of the pile, then returning to his side.  With a smile, she handed him the photo of his mother, and he accepted it graciously.

“Thanks, Sunshine. I guess there’s nothin’ wrong with rememberin’ the good times.”

“Not at all,” she beamed, reaching for his hand.  "Come on, then.  Let’s head home.“

"Gladly.” He wrapped his fingers around hers, holding tight.  "And when we get there, maybe we can take some new pictures with that pro-snap camera a yours.“

Sole smiled. "Make some new memories?”

“Build a future,” he added, swinging her arm.  "I think it’s time.“

"Sounds like a plan,” she laughed.  "Sounds like a plan.“

The One Where They’re Stuck in an Elevator

Another Fake Married!Carenzo, in which I continue to look for reasons for them to be fake married. Tagging @lynyrdwrites as I do all things for these two, and also @austennerdita2533 for giving me an onslaught of Carenzo feels last month and inspiring this installation. Shamelessly ripped off from an episode of Gossip Girl. Lot’s of Klaroline in this one. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Klaus Mikaelson was a jealous man. For all that he was ancient and feared, capable of taking out anybody in his path, jealousy was something he was irritatingly familiar with. Especially when a certain blonde, baby vampire was involved.

Caroline rarely considered herself a woman who inspired jealousy, if anything, she was jealous of others. At least, petty, insecure, human Caroline got jealous; vampire Caroline was much more evolved, thank-you-very-much. Aside from long buried issues between certain ex-boyfriends, Elena was usually the one people fought over, so bottom line, Caroline didn’t know much about people being jealous over her, and with Klaus she wasn’t sure how to handle it.

Would it set the feminist movement back a few decades to admit that she sort-of liked it?  Look, maybe it was shallow, but Caroline would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t enjoy it a little. At least, she did until that jealously threatened to do some actual damage, specifically to a certain other vampire who held a  special place as Caroline’s ex-husband and the reason Klaus nearly popped a vein every now and then.

Not that Enzo minded. He found the whole thing hilarious.

It wouldn’t be hilarious if Enzo lost a liver though, and Caroline knew she had to put her foot down sooner or later. Distracting Klaus with sex was usually a good way to soothe his ego, but it could only work for so long, and one day, the breaking point came.

“What the hell happened here?!”

The ‘here’ was Klaus’s art studio in the Mikaelson’s New Orleans residence, and the ‘what’ was the massive temper tantrum that led to the room being wrecked. Canvasses were ripped in half, paint thrown against the walls (it actually looked like a Jackson Pollock design technique, Caroline wondered if she should keep it in when she inevitably redecorated). And at the center of the storm sat her hybrid boyfriend, glass of scotch in hand, brooding like a cliche. She’d call him that if he annoyed her enough, she knew how much it irritated him.

“I can’t imagine what you mean,” Klaus said dryly, taking a generous swig of scotch.

Caroline scoffed. “Right, I’m sure this is just ‘artistic expression’”. Air quotes accompanied those words but Klaus didn’t even quirk a smile, and she was left to puzzle out the reason for his mood herself. It didn’t take long, the scattered pieces of paper that littered the room gave her an excellent place to start.

“Klaus…is this the rental agreement for my apartment in Dallas?” she asked slowly, skimming the contract which was lying in pieces around the studio floor. As of six weeks ago, she officially didn’t need it anymore, and Enzo didn’t feel like staying in Dallas by himself, not that he had a permanent residence anywhere. He mostly flitted in and out of the area, crashing in hotels or with one night stands, but if no one was using their old place, Caroline had the great idea of subletting.

Apparently some people took issue with her real estate decisions.

The hybrid was still refusing to say anything and Caroline felt her irritation rise, moving to stand between him and the fireplace that he was glaring daggers at. “Seriously, what the hell is going on?” she asked, her tone brokering no room for his sulking.

For a second Klaus stayed quiet but held out a sheet of paper - the last page of the rental agreement, the one that bore her signature, right next to Enzo’s.

“Oh my god,Caroline groaned, running a hand over her face. “I should’ve known.”

Klaus bit back a snarl, throwing back the rest of his drink. “Out of curiosity love, were you ever going to tell me you got remarried? Very sad to have missed the happy occasion.”

“We registered at Pottery Barn, feel free to send something expensive,” she teased, and hid her chuckle at the brief flash of panic on Klaus’s face before he realized she was joking.

“Perhaps I should have a conversation with your husband,” Klaus spat waspishly. “I’m sure I can get the story out of him.”

The way he said ‘get the story’ made Caroline think that Enzo would be losing one or more legs and he needed to be mobile to clear out the apartment in a week. So, as much fun as it would be to poke the bear, it was time nip this in the bud. She plucked the empty glass from his hands and set it on the mahogany side table, hiking up her skirt and settling herself in Klaus’s lap. Despite his foul mood, Klaus shifted to accommodate her, fingers absentmindedly skimming the exposed skin of her thighs, relaxing ever so slightly under the warmth of her body.

“We’re not remarried,” Caroline said bluntly. Klaus’s gaze snapped to her, some of his anger lifting immediately.

“You’ve signed as Caroline St. John,” he pointed out, still guarded.

“Yeah, because the head of our building’s co-op board is an eighty five year old Greek Orthodox woman who frowns upon young people living in sin, and being the cutest married couple ever was the quickest way to get permission to sublet our place.”

“You should really embrace the finer points of compulsion,” Klaus grumbled, but most of the coiled anger had left.

“Compel everybody in the building? It was easier to fake a name on the contract,” Caroline said matter-of-factly. The entire thing had been her plan and she’d been proud of it, potential angry Original notwithstanding. She always knew she’d be able to handle Klaus, but she’d wanted to avoid mentioning the little detail of being fake married (on paper!) if at all possible, for the sake of everyone’s health.

Klaus didn’t look like he was about to go out on any homicidal rampages, so Caroline allowed herself to relax and sink into him further, cupping his jaw and running her thumb over the stubble there. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch and nearly humming in contentment.

“You should really ask me about these things before going into full alpha male mode,” Caroline said quietly, less chastising then she meant to be, the gentle mood too good to spoil.

“I’m always the alpha male,” he replied, still enjoying her touch. “And Lorenzo does tend to be a perpetual thorn in my side.”

Caroline frowned, “Because he’s my friend?”

“He lacks respect. I really don’t know what you see in him.”

He thought that was the end of it, but Caroline considered his question carefully.

“He’s on my side.”

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cinderella o4 [hoseok&you]

Summary: You’re a singer hidden behind the curtains, all because someone has taken your voice. With no willpower to fight, you’re forced to watch as your dream fades in sight.

part one part two part three

a/n: @bangtrashboi thank you again for requesting, and i hope you enjoyed this series! ^_^ and again, of course nothing happens this extreme and awesome, because it’s all fictional. enjoy this all~!

p.s. the lyric piece is from this amazing song noni - blackbird

Originally posted by totallyyehet

People are born with a voice of their own, for talents and gifts are mainly from the genes you would receive from your parents or grandparents, and maybe ancestors. But with the voice you’re given with, you are to use it as your own.

Unfortunately, you didn’t know what it is or how you were supposed to use your voice. You weren’t given an option when it was taken away. Through it all when hiding behind the curtains, your voice was being owned by someone else.

Nonetheless, you weren’t letting a little flame scare you.  

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Hidden p1

Paring: Steve x Reader

Characters: No one yet 

TW: Guns, Violence, Homeless reader, Injury.

 A/n: more angst from hannah, here you go! This time its a Steve series! Also @nataliaaroma is forever immortalized as a cat 


You wrapped your arms across your chest, keeping your jacket closed. You tugged on your hood as you pushed you way through the crowds of New York. They were following you, they had found you and all you had to do was get away. You looked back, your heart pounding in your chest. You took the opportunity to slip away into an alley, and cut some corners on your commute.

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priorities | part two

part one

michael + reader

word count: 1435

writing masterlist | request/ask/feedback

summary: michael has to leave yet again and you stupidly make him choose between you and the band

>>>

michael’s pov:

the minute the question was posted to me and y/n wanted me to make a decision between her and the band, i told her my answer - the band.

in that moment, there was absolutely no competition. i would never choose anything over the band - it was my life. and with the annoyance i felt for y/n’s nagging and constant questions, my mouth and brain acted before my heart could.

it was only when i was in my hotel room in sweden, checking my phone for any sort of contact from her that i realised i probably should’ve asked for a third option. 

i couldn’t imagine how hurt she must’ve felt, knowing that i didn’t think twice before tossing her aside.

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Rain & Shine (Taemin Scenario) Part 2.

1:2:3:4:5:6:7:8:9:10

Your body aches everywhere as another sneeze explodes from inside of you. You’ve been home sick for about 3 days now and you’re certain your boss is going to rip you a new one when you get back because you’ve already called out of 2 shifts, which is “against company policy,” or so she says. But, sick is sick and you can’t go to work like this. Your hand wanders the table blindly when you reach out for the roll of toilet paper. You remembered you had never actually bought what you had gone back for the night it rained so hard and you got stuck in the convenience store. You needed tissues, but now, when you were in dire need of them, they all seemed to be gone. So, here you are, on your 6th roll of toilet paper, and your stock is starting to run thin. You may have to brave the outside world sometime soon to restock your tissue, toilet paper, and chicken noodle soup supplies.

You roll onto your side and burrow further into the couch, pulling your plush blanket up to your ear and listening to the hushed running man re-runs that you’ve been half watching since yesterday morning. You’re pretty sure this is the 7th or 8th episode with Jung Yonghwa but you haven’t actually looked at the screen in some time.

You’re all but asleep when the door bell buzzer causes you to nearly fly off of the couch. From the amount of force with which you jump, you’re sure the neighbors below you must think you’ve been shot. You will yourself to stand from the couch and take a moment to regain balance as the sudden rush of movement causes you to become light headed and dizzy. You wrap your blanket around you shoulders and make your way to the door. Sometimes you wish you had one of those fancy door viewer things so you knew who was outside, but you don’t really care right now seeing as how you can barely even breathe regularly.

You swing the door open and flip the hair out of your face to see who the tall figure standing before you is. His long black hair sits in a perfect, tiny pony tail right on the top of his head and his stark white t-shirt shirt has the perfect neck line so that you can clearly see his fragile collar bones and lean neck and everything about it is perfect. It isn’t until you realize you’re actually gawking at his appearance that you realize it’s Teamin standing before you now, and it’s even later that you realize that you are actually the grossest human being on the planet at the moment. “Oh…I…um…hi….I,” you sputter, pulling your blanket tighter, remembering you only have a tank top and panties on beneath it.

“Hi!” He gleams, “Oh no,” he breathes, expression dropping in a matter of seconds as he takes in your appearance, “you’re sick?” He asks, head cocking only slightly to the side. You nod, embarrassment getting the best of you. You feel warm crimson flood your cheeks while his eyes inspect every bit of your covered form. “When did you get sick?” He asks, his speech and body language suddenly switch from excited to worried and cute.

“Uh, about three days ago I guess.” You say, taking a step back into the apartment, voice hoarse and almost a whisper when the words escape your sore throat.

“Ah, _____-ah’s voice is so cute when she’s sick!” He gushes, pushing past you into your own home, slipping his shoes off gingerly in the entry way before peeking around the small space. “Do you live with your boyfriend or…?” He trails off, placing his bag on an arm chair and peeking his head into the bathroom.

“No,” you huff, annoyed and confused, following him back into your home, “I don’t have a boyfriend, I live alone.” You plop yourself back down, careful not to let any of your blanket fly away.

“Oh?” his tone perks up. He sits in the same chair his bag previously occupied and glances over your coffee table, noticing the balled up toilet paper strewn across the area and empty bowls and glasses cluttering the coffee and side tables. “Aish, what is this, ____-ah?” he asks, scratching the back of his newly died hair.

You blush again, “I ran out of tissues a few days ago so…” you notice the empty cardboard toilet paper rolls at his feet and glance away quickly. Why did he have to show up at your house? And why did he have to come today of all days? “Hey, Taemin-ssi? Not to be rude but…. What are you doing her-” You cut yourself off with a fit of coughs.

“Are you okay?” He asks, concern filling his voice. You nod, knowing even if you try, the words won’t be audible. He suddenly, smiles and stands rapidly. “I’ll be right back.”

“What? Where-” you rasp, but he’s already out the door. He even left his bag. Dummy.

You quickly rush to your bedroom and change just in case he does come back. Re-entering the living room you decide it’s a good idea to clean up your mess while you’re up. You gather all of the crumpled, makeshift tissues and empty toilet paper rolls and dump them all in the trash. You place all of the dirty bowls and glasses in the kitchen sink and lie back down on the couch and zone out to running man once again.

You’re pretty caught up in what the two teams on this episode are up to when the door opens again and Taemin’s loud voice interrupts your peaceful dwelling. “I’m hoooommmmeee!” He sings, bursting into the room. “I come bearing gifts!” He shouts, holding up the plastic shopping bags in his arms. He sits back down in the chair and begins rummaging through his plastic clad treasures. Before you on the newly cleared coffee table he places three boxes of tissues, two bags of cherry cough drops; a LOT of canned chicken noodle soup; a pack of vitamin-c tablets; cough medicine; and a bright green stuffed monkey. You scan and survey each of the items he’s placed down and look back up at him, expression giving him everything you could and yet can’t really say without it coming out as a whisper. His shinning smile graces his face and his charming eyes stretch into adorable crescents.

He picks up the stuffed monkey and fondles its fur momentarily before handing it to you directly. “This one is because,” he pauses, thinking over his words in his head again, probably so as not to embarrass himself, “because I know sometimes when you’re sick it can be hard to sleep so I got this to help you sleep even if you feel like you can’t.” He blinks at you and you blink back, not quite sure how to respond. Thank you, you mouth, wrapping your arms around the plush toy and sitting back against the couch. His expression brightens and he reaches for his bag from earlier. “One more thing!” He searches frantically through the contents of the bag before it seems he finds what he’s looking for. From the depths of that mysterious bag he pulls…your sweatshirt?

You try to recall why and how he has this. Then, you remember you let him use it as a towel after he was drenched by rain and he never actually returned it to you that night. You had thought that was the end of that; he was famous and you were never going to see him or you sweatshirt again, end of story. You never thought he’d return it, let alone show up at your apartment and restock your entire sick person supply for you. You stare at him blankly, unsure of how to properly thank him. You throw it around your shoulders and pull the zipper. “Hyung washed it for you and everything,” he beams proudly, your heart does a back flip and you’re pretty sure the world just stopped for a moment, “I hope that’s okay.” Taemin grumbles. You look up to him and nod quickly, already holding the soft fabric to your face and inhaling the clean scent. Not just clean but…him. It smells like Taemin. How did you end up here? “Do you want some soup now?” Taemin asks, catching you by surprise once again. Do you take his offer? Are ordinary people allowed to let celebrities cook for them? This is only the second time you’ve ever actually spoken to each other and you’re pretty sure what you’ve done today doesn’t actually constitute as speaking.

“Yes please,” you manage and stand to help him carry cans into the kitchen. He pushes you back down onto the couch and continues preparing your soup, all the while talking and talking away behind you. You settle back down and let his voice drip into your ears, slowly turning from intelligible words to a sweet hum that fills your dream space and warms you from the inside. You wake to see a bowl of soup steaming in front of you, covered by a second bowl to keep it warm, a tall glass of ice water, a vitamin-c tablet on the table beside the glass, and your monkey curled tightly in your clutch. No sign of Taemin anywhere, but all the proof that he was actually there is right in front of you.

~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thank you so much for reading!! uwu I hope you liked part 2! I’m not sure how far or where this one will go but hope you’ll all enjoy the ride with me!!

<3 Minah

why [yoongi&you]

Summary: getting involved with a gang due to his father’s debts, yoongi didn’t expect that you who he kept safe, would have a bad end.

a/n: here is the mafia!au you asked for, dear Bullet. i was struggling so bad, since last week i barely had any fuggen sleep. stupid work place. -_- so this is crappy for me. i just kept erasing, kept rewriting, erasing, rewriting, and finally decided to upload this in hopes you would like my pure trash writing. T_T i am sorry if this didn’t come to your content. I will make everything better for you in the future.

Originally posted by hugtae

In and out, in and out, in and out.

It’s easy for one to say when they just want to finish a business that involves with crime doings. Just deliver the case in, and out the door you go and life will be back to normal.

But was life ever normal?

Keep reading

Unforgivable

Group & Member(s): Got7′s Jackson 

Request: “…He sees y/n and another guy…and gets extremely jealous…and y/n breaks up with him ‘cause of his temper…& he ends up becoming so sad he doesn’t want to be in Got7 anymore?..Make it super sad…”

 Genre: Angst

Warnings: Contains small scene of physical violence. 


Jackson sunk down to his knees, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist, his tears streaming as he cried. 

“Please…Please don’t do this…I didn’t mean for any of this to happen!”

You tried to pry him off, but your feet stood rooted in the ground. 

“There’s no going back from what you did, Jackson.” You say sternly. 

“No…there can be…just give me another chance..I promise” he responds through sobs. 

“I can never look at you the same. All I see is that side of you now” 

You finally unlatch his arms from you, walking to the door. He dropped down fully to the floor, his head lowered as he faced the reality of his actions. 

“But you’ve seen my good side. You know how I truly am - please don’t leave me”

You took one last look at him, at the guy who just days ago was a beacon of light and smiles, who was your rock and the one person you thought would never do anything wrong to you. But that was before you saw an entirely new side of him. Before he let himself get out of control, and before you decided to end everything because of it.

“It’s….just completely unforgivable. Goodbye, Jackson”

…………

24 hours earlier

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To Tremble, To Shake

Set during Season 6, and inspired by Colin’s interview where he talks about his vague living arrangements.

[AO3]

Emma watches him dress from her spot in her bed, admiring the methodical way he buttons first his shirt, and then his waistcoat. Killian quirks an eyebrow in amusement at her interest, but says nothing as he continues to dress.

It’s become a routine for them. He stays the night, and then leaves early in the morning. Outside of his foray into the Land of Untold Stories, and later, New York City, he’s spent every night with her, in her house, in her bedroom, in her bed.

It’s supposed to theirs, she knows. He’s the one that picked out the house, his promise for a future, their future. One that they won’t even share assuming her vision proves to be correct.

Her hand trembles against the duvet.

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