and the picture of us running from the woods

Misunderstandings - Kyle X Reader

****************************************************************************************************Requested by @wholockedcumberwumberCan you do an imagine in which reader is Kyle’s girlfriend and he only talks to Zoe at the party because he got into a fight with reader and she sees him talking to Zoe when she goes to try to apologize and since the party is so loud she doesn’t hear him telling Zoe how much he cares.

****************************************************************************************************

I honestly didn’t even want to go to the party. After just having the worst fight in the history of my relationship with Kyle, the last thing I wanted to do was wear some tight outfit and dance with a bunch of people I didn’t know and would probably never see again.

Still, my sorority friends insisted that I went with them to the point where it was easier to agree and go than to resist them and have to hear their complaints for the next week if I didn’t.

So I reluctantly got dressed in my favourite party outfit, a short maroon dress that flowed from the waist down and lacked sleeves back had a thick strap of fabric that wrapped the end of the throat. I paired it with white heels and a white purse, tied my hair up in a loose bun and I was finally ready to go.

“See? You look gorgeous,” my friend exclaims as I make my way into our communal area, “We are going to have so much fun!”

By the time we reach the party Kyle is barely a small thought in the back of my mind. We immediately make our way to the kitchen where we know, based on the sorority house we’re at, that there will be plenty of pizza available.

-

If it hadn’t been for my frat brothers I would never have gone out partying tonight. Y/N and I had been dating for a year and after the fight we had yesterday I really don’t know where we stand as a couple anymore. My frat brothers had noticed how sad I’d been and decided that a few drinks, ironic since I never drink when I’m out with them, was the best option to cheer me up.

I slowly peel off the shirt I’m wearing and replace it with my frat shirt, secretly hoping that if I move slowly enough, they will leave without me. But, much to my dismay, when I walk down the stairs to meet them, every single one of them is sat there waiting patiently for me so we can take the bus and leave.

When we arrive at the party, the house is already packed to the rafters, people standing in every available area of floor space as we squeeze our way through the packed hallway and I make an effort to immediately separate myself from my friends. I manage to push my way to a table, seating a massive ice sculpture and I find myself fixated on a face, standing on the other side of the table. Slowly she walks until we stand face to face.

“I’m Kyle.” I shout over the noise around us.

“I’m Zoe.” She shouts back, smiling flirtatiously.

An hour passes as we become completely absorbed in our conversation.

“You’re a really good guy Kyle.” Zoe starts, suddenly becoming sad in her eyes, “But I don’t think this is going to work out.”

“Oh no… I-I wasn’t looking for a relationship I have a girlfriend.” I blurt out, nervously attempting to find the right words to not humiliate her.

“Then why are you here alone?” she snaps, “And why are you talking to me?”

-

After a few hours, sitting in the kitchen turns to being a bore so I gather all of the energy I have left in me and find my way back into the main area of the house. Slowly I make my way to the stairs, desperate to find a place to sit until another loner walks over to start a conversation. But halfway there I stop dead in my tracks as I notice a familiar face. Kyle, smiling and quite obviously flirting with a tiny blonde girl who I had never seen before. Before I can turn he looks over and his face falls as he recognizes me and as he starts to walk over I turn and push my way out of the house and run to my car. Driving off before he can get close enough to open the door.

When I get home I immediately rush to the drawer where Kyle’s belongings that he left in my room and start throwing it into a duffle bag, ready to throw at him when I drive around to tell him we’re over. As I’m searching through his stuff I find a framed picture of us from our first date and burst into tears as I struggle to believe that he would actually cheat on me. As I’m huddled in my own tears, I hear the door open and footsteps creaking on the wood that lies underneath the carpeted floors.

“I knew I would regret giving you a key.” I snap, trying to disguise my voice to hide the sadness that runs through my tone.

“You don’t mean that.” Kyle whispers, almost as if he’s scared that speaking in a regular tone would break me into a million pieces, which in that moment was a possibility, “Can we just talk about this?”

“I thought we decided not to talk about things. Isn’t that why we fought in the first place?” I reply sullenly, turning to face him, “I knew we weren’t having the best of times together but how could you cheat on me so blatantly?”

“I wasn’t cheating on you,” he says, his eyes flickering to the ground, unable to meet mine, “I was just talking to a girl.”

“A girl who was practically salivating over you,” I say and he sighs, “I saw the way she looked at you, it was the way I looked at you when we met.”

“Will you just listen to me for a minute?” he almost shouts, attempting to control his temper. When I don’t respond he moves to sit on the bed, directly next to where I’m sitting but I move across slightly as to still keep my distance, “I didn’t cheat on you, and deep down I think you know that. We’ve been together for a long time and I’ve never lied to you or done anything to hurt your feelings… just tell me you believe me.”

“Then what would you call what the two of you were doing?” I ask, completely ignoring the last part of his sentence.

“Actually the exact moment you saw me was when I was telling her about how much I love you,” he answers and I flash him a look of disbelief, “No I’m being serious, she asked me why I was talking to her if I had a girlfriend and I told her all about you, about how much I love every little thing you do, about how I’m nothing without you.”

“I believe you.” I whisper and he smiles through a nervous laugh, taking my head in his hands and leaning forward until our foreheads touch.

“Thank you, let’s move past this, I love you so much.”  He mumbles so quickly I barely catch his words and for the first time in what feels like forever, I smile as I nod and our lips collide.

“Stay here tonight.” I whisper and he nods, smiling. I slide backwards and lay down and Kyle moves to do the same and lies down beside me, moving a strand of hair from my face before moving his arm to protectively lace around my waist. I smile, closing my eyes as I feel his lips touch my nose before he too closes his eyes and as the both of us fall asleep I can’t help but feel as if just this once, everything was going to turn out the way it should be and I fall into a deep sleep, my thoughts are filled with the our picture perfect happy ending.

Orange Juice and Toothpaste Should Never Mix

When Kara was a child, she never understood why her food constantly tasted weird. If she was eating a hamburger, the taste of chicken or salad would mingle with the yummy hamburger and created a bizarre mix of meats and vegetables that she despised with a passion – considering how she never ate salad.

“It’s so gross, Mom!” Kara had complained the first time ranch eclipsed the wondrousness of Alura’s lasagna. Could her soulmate not respect the awesomeness of the cheesy goodness that was her mother’s signature dish? What kind of monster did that?

Even after her parents explained it to her, she was still confused. What cosmic being thought sharing taste buds – along with sharing sensations (like if someone ate something spicy, the other would feel the burning on their lips until it died out on their soulmate’s) - was a good idea? They either had a horrible sense of humor or they really hated humans; there was no other explanation.

It was honestly cruel and unusual punishment.

When she reached adulthood, she often thanked the powers above that whoever her soulmate was kept strange hours. They never seemed to eat at the same times throughout the day anymore and she rarely had odd mixtures of flavors in her mouth. Occasionally she’d taste bubblegum during lunch or a wine that surprisingly went well with whatever she was devouring at dinner, but there were hardly any extreme combinations nowadays.

 Thank God.

-X-

Lying on her parents’ couch, Kara absently flipped through the channels. She was visiting for the weekend; her apartment building was being fumigated and she felt guilty for never coming to see them, so now was the perfect time to stop in. What made it better was the fact her older cousin Clark Kent – reporter extraordinaire – was in town visiting his parents so they had plans to meet up for brunch and a movie.

Smallville was exactly what its name suggested – small. Nothing exciting ever happened there, aside from car crashes and cow tipping. The most daring thing she and Clark did was sneak onto her uncle Non’s farm and chase his chickens; they were so wasted that they passed out in the pen, Clark on top of the chicken house and Kara on the dusty ground, her legs bent awkwardly against the fence. Uncle Non wasn’t amused but Aunt Astra thought it was hilarious. She even took pictures, which she brought out.

Every. Single. Christmas.

Yawning, Kara rolled off the couch and landed on the floor with a quiet “oomph.”

“Must you do that every time?” Alura chided, shaking her head at her only child.

“Yes,” Kara replied cheekily, rising from the wood with a groan as her back gave a satisfying crack.

Alura pursed her lips, though it couldn’t hide the smile threatening to break forth. She could never actually be mad at Kara’s antics; she was too much like her father. When he was younger, Zor did the same thing and gave the same mischievous answer.

“You need to get going. You know Clark tends to be early and you don’t want to keep him waiting, do you?”

Kara smiled, pecking her mother’s cheek as she passed. “I’ll see you later. Love you!”  The thump of the closing door muffled Alura’s reply, though Kara still felt loved. She really ought to come see her parents more often. National City was home but Smallville would always have a special place in her heart.

It wasn’t a long drive to the coffee shop and Kara peacefully took in the scenery; fields of green and little farmhouses reminding her of her younger years. It helped shape the person she was and gave her the ambitions she possessed. She couldn’t imagine spending the rest of her life there, so she worked hard and made a life for herself in National City. She wouldn’t stay there…

Couldn’t stay there.

Parking her rental car, Kara hopped out and strolled inside, waving to Mr. Evans as she slipped inside. He’d owned the café for as long as she could remember. During her high school years she’d worked there; it was a minimum wage job but she was given free coffee and sweet treats whenever she wanted so she couldn’t complain.

“Little Kara Zorel! Lord, how you’ve matured! You look great,” he greeted, slipping from behind the counter to embrace his former employee. “How ya doing? It’s been years since you’ve stopped by.”

Kara smiled, patting his back. “I know. I’ve been great. How are you? How’s Debbie and Joey?”

“They’re wonderful,” he replied, releasing her. “Joey’s married now. He’s got a baby on the way. Debbie moved out of town. She’s livin’ in Arizona.” He grinned proudly. “She’s a doctor.”

Kara glanced around the café. It hadn’t changed at all; the wall paper was peeling and the booths looked like they’d seen better days but it was still the same cozy little hole-in-the-wall it’d always been. Memories came flooding back and she sighed contently.

“Come on. I’ll make you some hot chocolate and we have freshly made cinnamon buns! I’m positive Kathy will be so happy to see you. I’ll give her a call. Take a seat anywhere you want and I’ll bring it to you.”

Kara nodded, taking the booth she always sat in when she was a teenager. It was tucked in the corner and had the perfect view outside and she could see everything going on inside the café. She fished her phone from her pocket and laughed at Clark’s text.

Clark: I’m running late. Mom had me cutting wood. Why she needs firewood in the middle of summer I’ll never understand. OMW now.

Shaking her head, Kara clicked on her Instagram app (honestly, she had no idea why she still had this app, she hadn’t used it in months) and thumbed through it. She double tapped on some of her friends’ pictures and commented with a plethora of emojis that had little to do with the post before continuing on. Lena hated when she only replied in emojis so Kara made it her mission to always comment in them.

A rather familiar taste filled her mouth and she grimaced, licking her lips irritably. Chicken Caesar salad was by far the worst thing her soulmate munched on and they ate it at least once a week. It was nauseating and whenever she met them, she was going to give them an earful. They knew she didn’t like it – she was always drinking something to get rid of the nasty aftertaste that was Caesar dressing – yet they continued to torture her with it.

Huffing, she scrolled a little farther and paused.

TheRealAlexDanvers: I never post pictures of food, but this salad is amazing. Thank you @MagSawyer for being my lunch buddy.

Above it was a picture of the nicest looking Caesar salad Kara had ever seen. It was drenched in dressing – bleh – but the chicken was grilled and made Kara’s stomach growl hungrily.

What caught Kara off-guard was the fact that she could taste a Caesar salad and her favorite actress – and her biggest crush, though she’d never admit it out loud – was posting about a Caesar salad.

There’s no way… Kara shook her head ruefully. She refused to get her hopes up. It’s just wishful thinking.

She was startled when a cup was set in front of her. She smiled thankfully up at Mr. Evans and he winked, dropping a cinnamon bun beside it before walking away, a quiet whistle filling the silence. With no one else in the café, it was eerily quiet and Kara welcomed the noise.

Kara sipped her hot chocolate, giggling when whipped cream tickled her upper lip. She subconsciously licked it off, glancing through pictures. Growing bored as she delved into the older ones, she tapped the top of the Instagram border. It returned to the top and she refreshed the app absently.

The first post she noticed was another one from Alex Danvers. In this one, she was glaring at the camera, her head tilted to the side.

TheRealAlexDanvers: Really? Why does my salad suddenly taste like hot chocolate and whipped cream? All I wanted was to enjoy this salad! How rude!

Gaping at the screen, Kara’s eyes widened comically. She squeaked noisily, but couldn’t bring herself to care. She believed in coincidences but this was…

She had to be sure.

“Mr. Evans!” she called, jerking up from the booth and rushing to his counter. “Do you have any hot sauce?”

He blinked in bewilderment. “H-hot sauce?”

She nodded emphatically, frantically glancing between her phone and the puzzled owner. “Yeah! Or something really spicy or weird or gross.”

“I-I might. Let me check.” He ambled into the back, the door swinging closed behind him.

Kara’s leg bounced anxiously, her fingernails clicking against the wooden countertop. She inhaled deeply, taking in the sugary aroma from the freshly baked treats in the glass case, but she couldn’t appreciate it. All she could think about was the possibility that Alex freaking Danvers might be her soulmate. It would explain the expensive wines and fancy tasting foods; how it hadn’t piqued her interest before was beyond her.

Mr. Evans returned with a chili pepper in his hand. “We keep these around for whenever someone wants a kick in their chocolate. Sweet and spicy go well together. Will this work?”

Kara hurriedly snagged it from his hand, thanking him profusely as she hastily slid back into the booth. Bracing herself, she bit into the pepper and ripped off half, wincing as it set her mouth ablaze. She detested hot foods but it was the first idea that popped into her mind and she wasn’t going to back out now.

She waited with bated breath, ignoring the aching of her lips. Less than a minute later, the flavor of milk flooded over her tongue and she sighed in relief, taking a gulp of her hot chocolate to snuff out the fire in her throat. She refreshed Instagram again and her breath caught in her chest.

There, clear as day, was Alex Danvers holding a glass of milk – the cutest little milk mustache on her upper lip – with a dark expression marring her gorgeous features.

TheRealAlexDanvers: Seriously?! I know my soulmate hates Caesar salad but this is just mean. Chocolate and peppers do not go well with salad dressing! If you follow me on here, my dear soulmate, will you please staaaaahp? I fear for my future children.”

An undignified shriek ripped from her throat and she practically threw her phone onto the empty seat across from her. Mr. Evans was staring at her, forehead creased with worry. She was utterly frozen, eyes huge and unseeing. Her brain couldn’t comprehend what just happened. For years she wondered who her soulmate was and it was Alex fucking Danvers?

This has to be a dream.

That was how Clark found her, gaping at nothing. He shared a concerned glance with Mr. Evans before cautiously wandering over and touching his cousin’s shoulder.

“Kara?”

Kara’s mouth opened, but her response was not what he expected. “AHH!”

-X-

Since the startling revelation in Smallville, Kara had been an absolute wreck. She could hardly explain her nervousness to her parents, leaving them utterly bewildered and thrown for a loop. They believed her – Kara wasn’t known for exaggerating important things – but the notion of their daughter being soulmates with an actress was baffling. Not because Alex was out of her league (Kara was a catch) but Kara was terribly humble and such a good person that they weren’t too keen on her getting wrapped up in that world.

When Kara returned to National City, she was quick to share her story with Lena – her best friend and easily the most levelheaded person she knew. Lena was hesitant, but she trusted Kara’s judgment. She knew Kara was going to be heartbroken if she was wrong and she didn’t want that for her friend. Kara was the embodiment of sunshine and rainbows; when she cried, the world seemed bleak and everyone else would cry along with her.

Kara was lounging on the couch, a pint of ice cream in her lap and her phone in her hand. She was absently scrolling through Instagram again – “No, Lena, I have not been obsessively looking at Alex’s Instagram!” – and glancing up at her television every so often. Lena was curled up on the chair adjacent to her couch, intently watching…whatever they’d pick, meaning Kara let Lena choose because she really couldn’t care less.

The picture of Alex in a plane seat (obviously first class) with Lucy Lane, one of her other friends and a renowned dancer, caught Kara’s attention and she eagerly scanned the words beneath.

TheRealAlexDanvers: National City bound with @LLane! Can’t wait to explore the city after our interviews with @CatCo!

By now, Kara tried pretending she was unaffected by Alex Danvers and the idea of meeting her…

But she totally was if her screams were any indication.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Kara. You nearly gave me a heart attack,” Lena scolded, clutching her chest and inhaling deeply through her nose. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Kara tossed Lena her phone, her hands trembling as she clasped them together in her lap. The youngest Luthor shot her a bizarre look before glancing at Kara’s phone. She couldn’t contain her exasperated eye roll.

“Seriously, Kar? Shouldn’t you be excited or something about this?” she asked sardonically. She threw it back to Kara, chuckling when she made absolutely no effort to catch the relatively expensive piece of technology. The damn thing was Kara’s baby; if she wasn’t practically diving off the couch to catch it, then something was definitely wrong. “Kara?”

“She’s coming here…to where I work…”

Lena tilted her head. “Why are you freaking out? This is a great thing! You can finally meet her and profess your undying love for her.”

Kara seized the nearest pillow and chucked it at Lena. “This isn’t funny!”

“You’re right. It’s hilarious,” Lena cackled, setting the pillow behind her back so she could lean against it. “Thanks for the pillow. I needed one.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Kara glowered, shaking her head.

“I know,” Lena smirked, “But you love me.”

Kara buried her face into a cushion and groaned. “No I don’t. I hate you.”

“Sure, Kara. Sure.”

-X-

Kara’s knee bounced erratically, beating against the underside of her desk. She was chewing on the end of her pen, peeking into Cat’s office. Cat had been adamant that Kara wasn’t needed for the interview; in fact, the only person in her office besides Alex and Cat was James Olsen, Cat’s top photographer. From what she could tell, they were still sitting outside on Cat’s balcony and oh how she wished she could be a fly on the wall.

“Thank you for your time, Miss Danvers,” Cat’s muffled voice echoed off the glass windows, gaining Kara’s attention immediately.

Alex smiled, shaking Cat’s hand as they stopped just before the door. “It’s been a pleasure, Miss Grant.”

Strolling out of the office, Alex winked at Kara when she passed. Her breath caught in her lungs, Kara’s eyes widening as she stared after her. The tug in her chest was painful and she wondered absently if Alex could feel it too.

“Kara, quit gawking at Miss Danvers,” Cat chided, “I expected better from you. You’ve met plenty of famous people and have never acted this way.”

Swallowing harshly, Kara rose from her desk and absently grabbed Cat’s wrist, dragging her back into the office. If she were in her right mind, she would already be flushed crimson (touching Cat Grant was a huge no-no, even if she was Cat’s favorite) but she wasn’t.

All she could think about was that her soulmate had winked at her.

“Kara, what on Earth is going on?” Cat demanded, crossing her arms.

Inhaling sharply, Kara started pacing back and forth, wringing her hands anxiously. She had absolutely no idea how to explain her theory to her boss without sounding like a lunatic. Despite the “proof” she’d accumulated, no one really seemed to believe her.

“IthinkAlexDanversismysoulmate,” Kara blurted, blinking owlishly at Cat.

“Kara, sweetie, you said that way too fast. Say that again but slowly.”

Biting her lip, Kara said again, “I think Alex Danvers is my soulmate.” Cat gaped at Kara, trying to formulate the appropriate reply but Kara rambled on, “I know this sounds crazy and honestly I think I might be but I swear I’m not making this up, Miss Grant. I tried telling Clark but he didn’t believe me and I don’t really blame him but…” she trailed off when Cat touched her arm.

“I believe you,” Cat assured her, chuckling quietly when Kara looked at her with those puppy dog eyes of hers, “You wouldn’t lie about something like this, especially since you’ve been iffy about finding yours since you started working here.”

“No one should eat that much salad,” Kara mumbled, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

Smirking, Cat patted the other blonde’s cheek affectionately. “I have an idea for you to meet your dream woman. Here’s what I need you to do…”

-X-

“I’m surprised you called for this lunch,” Alex admitted, scanning the menu thoughtfully. “I thought we covered everything you wanted to ask me.”

“Oh I did.” Cat waved her hand dismissively. “But I figured you and Ms. Lane might enjoy one of National City’s best restaurants.”

“It’s really lovely,” Lucy commented, setting her menu down. “I can’t wait to try their southern burger. Eggs on a burger sounds so weird but kind of amazing.”

Alex hummed. “I think I’ll have the…”

“Caesar salad?” Lucy supplied with a shrewd smirk.

Sticking her tongue out, Alex swatted Lucy with her menu. “No! I’m going to try the steak.”

“Surprise, surprise,” Lucy muttered, narrowly avoiding another swat. “You’re so abusive, Alexandra Danvers! The press would have a field day if they knew how mean you really are.”

Rolling her eyes at their juvenile display, Cat peeked over her shoulder.

Kara was tucked away at a table not too far from theirs, indiscreetly peering over the top of her menu. A bottle of toothpaste was resting openly on the table with a glass of orange juice beside it. Her friend, the CEO of L-Corp, Lena Luthor was across from her, sipping a glass of wine and smiling indulgently at her companion.

I didn’t know they offered orange juice here.

“This wine is lovely,” Lena said, lifting the bottle so she could examine it thoroughly. “I should invest in some bottles.”

Kara shushed her, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. She was watching Alex intensely, eyeing the glass of Coke. She had to make it memorable and undeniable that she was her soulmate. What else was better than toothpaste and orange juice; it was a horrible combination.

“You look like a creep,” Lena informed her nonchalantly.

“Shut up.”

Lena shrugged. “Just pointing out the obvious. If I was her, I’d be really freaked out.”

“I hate you,” Kara snarled, glaring at her friend though it held no real malice. She could never be genuinely mad at Lena, despite her annoying attitude.

When Alex’s meal arrived, Kara uncapped the toothpaste and squeezed some onto the brush. She was oblivious to the curious glance studying her peculiar actions.

“Isn’t that your assistant?” Alex wondered, gesturing toward Kara. “The girl with the toothbrush?”

Cat sighed, fighting back the urge to bang her head on the table. She really needed to teach Kara the meaning of discrete. “Yes,” she drew out the s, gritting her teeth.

“Huh.” Alex shook her head.

The blonde was gorgeous, but…

Cutting off a piece of steak, she shoved it into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. It wasn’t the best she’d ever had, but it wasn’t bad. Reaching for her drink, she sipped it before promptly spitting it out and onto Cat’s nice white dress.

The overwhelming taste of toothpaste filled her mouth, drowning out the steak and leaving behind only mint.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” Alex apologized, handing Cat her napkin. That dress probably cost a fortune. “I’ll pay for the dry-cleaning while I’m in town, I swear.”

A wave of realization flooded her system after her moment of panic and her head snapped up, gaze locking with Kara’s. The feeling of wonder – and a little dread (orange juice and toothpaste was nasty) – blossomed in her stomach as Kara lifted her glass to her lips and swallowed a fair amount of juice. She winced at the taste of orange, toothpaste and steak mingling but she couldn’t have cared less.

“Oh my God.”

Cat smirked cheerfully, wiping the excess beverage from her dress. “I guess Kara was right.” Alex blinked at the older woman, her jaw dropping. “Do close your mouth, dear. It’s rather unbecoming.”

Lucy snorted, glancing between Kara and her friend. “Well, guess this solves that mystery.”

She bit into her burger and purr. Yep, egg on a burger is tasty.

Too busy staring at Alex, Kara was unaware of Lena’s bizarre expression. She twisted in her chair and looked at Alex’s companion – well, she actually looked at her food but semantics. Reaching blindly for the bottle of toothpaste, Lena put a little on her finger and shoved it in her mouth, observing her carefully.

Lucy blanched, dropping the burger onto the plate and scrambled for her drink, trying to bury the taste away. Rising from her seat, Lena jerked Kara up and strolled over to Cat’s table.

Brows furrowed inquisitively, Lucy glanced at the new arrivals. “Hello.”

Without looking away from Lucy, Lena lifted the glass of wine to her lips.

“Well,” Lucy cleared her throat after a minute, head tilted as she smiled up at the raven-haired beauty. “I guess a formal introduction is needed.” Standing, Lucy rounded the table and extended her hand. “Lucy Lane.”

“Lena Luthor.”

Finding her voice, Alex grinned at Kara who blushed prettily. “Would you ladies like to join us for lunch?”

Nodding, Kara smiled at Alex. “Yes.” Her features darkened though and her smile dissolved into an unhappy glare. “Yes, because we need to talk about your Caesar salad habit.”

Alex’s eyes widened and she gulped. Oh boy.

Life is fragile but still beautiful Part XII

Part I   Part II   Part III   Part IV   Part V   Part VI   Part VII   Part VIII    Part IX   Part X   Part XI


A week later

“Are you ready?” Charlotte came into the room cheerfully.

“Yup.” Amelia sighed heavily.

“Hey,” Charlotte kneeled in front of Amelia, who was sitting in a wheelchair, “what’s wrong?”

“They’ll all looked at me and whisper and…”

“Amelia, stop! They won’t because I’ll kill them with my glance before they can even think anything about you.” Charlotte squeezed Amelia’s knee.

“Thank you, Charlotte.” Amelia smiled warmly.

“Always for you.” Charlotte stood up and put a comforting hand on Amelia’s right cheek. “We should go.” Charlotte walked behind Amelia to wheel her outside of the room.

—————-

Charlotte had kept her promise. There was no one in the halls. Amelia was very thankful for that.

“Hey. You look amazing.” Addison came running when she saw the hospital doors slide open.

“Thanks. I guess.” Amelia looked serious but couldn’t hold her laugh back. “Sorry, I just had to.”

“I know.” Addison smiled and took over from Charlotte. Addison leaned over to Amelia’s ear. “Owen is the best guy there is.”

Amelia smiled like a teenaged girl. This time not a fake one.

They got closer to the car where Owen and Jake were waiting for her. Owen was the first one to greet her outside of the hospital and kissed her quickly on her lips.

“Can we please go?” Amelia pleaded.

“We actually should. Violet is waiting for you.” Charlotte said.

“Aghh. No, Charlotte. Not today. Please.” Amelia tried her best to get out of the shrink talk.

“Amelia. You have no power over this.” Addison said.

“Fine.” Amelia was definitely not okay with that.

—————- 

Everyone were quiet during the car ride. Amelia sat behind Addison, who was on the driver’s side, and Owen in the middle because he knew Amelia likes to look out of the window when she needed some time.

—————- 

When the elevator doors opened Owen pushed Amelia to the practice. She stopped the wheels with her hands.

“What’s wrong?” Owen asked.

Amelia was quiet and Addison, Jake and Charlotte knew it’s their time to leave.

“We’re in the kitchen if you need anything. Violet is waiting for you in her office.” Charlotte said and smiled warmly.

“Thank you.” Amelia smiled a little. When she was alone with Owen she said, “I want to do it alone.”

“What?” Owen was shocked.

“I don’t want you to push me around here. I want to do it on my own.”

“Ohh, okay. I’ll be in the kitchen then.”

“Thank you.” Amelia said and Owen got in front of her. He looked into her eyes and said. “You’ve got this.” Owen kissed her passionately with all the love he has.

Amelia didn’t want to break the kiss because that meant she had to go meet with Violet.

But Owen did and said, their foreheads still together. “You should go.”

“Yeah.” Amelia sighed and felt Owen’s lips on hers again.

“See you soon. I’ll be here waiting for you if you need me. Take your time.” Owen said and squeezed Amelia’s shoulder before he walked towards the kitchen.

Amelia stared Owen’s back till he stepped in the kitchen.

—————-

Amelia sighed again and started to push herself slowly towards Violet’s office. She could see Violet sitting there with her notepad.

“Great.” Amelia thought.

She tried to open the door but opening it while you’re sitting was way harder than she thought.

Violet heard Amelia trying to open the door. She stood up to help her inside but Amelia raised her hand to let her know she doesn’t need any.

Violet was familiar how Amelia responds in situations and knew the best she could do was let her do it on her own way.

After 10 minutes of trying Amelia said angrily. “Fuck this chair!”

—————-

It was loud enough for everyone to hear. Owen wanted to go help her but Charlotte stopped her. “She’ll get through this.”

—————- 

Another 5 minutes passed till she got the door open and pushed her quickly between the door, so it wouldn’t close again, like it did the other hundreds of times she had tried.

“Those doors were never that heavy when I was here few weeks ago.” Amelia pushed herself in front of the couch where Violet was sitting.

“They are still the same, Amelia. Just your condition has changed.”

Amelia said nothing.

“We actually should’ve met earlier about other stuff. So you choose which one you want to start with.”

“I don’t know. I’d better just leave. I don’t need the shrink talk.”

“You do need one, Amelia. Just admit it. If not to me or to Owen, admit it to yourself, in your mind. How you reacted when that little boy died or even what happened few minutes ago are talking for themselves. You need help. You’re not dealing with your demons and that will kill you. Slowly and painfully.”

“Just ask me those questions, so I could leave.”

“No, I won’t let you just answer my questions today.” Violet stood up and walked to her table. She came back with a white sheet of paper and pencils.

“I’m not interested of playing some little kids games.” Amelia said.

“Just take these. I’ll say a word and you draw whatever and use whatever colors what describes your feelings about it. Okay?” Violet held the paper out for Amelia.

“Fine.” She answered and took the paper from her.

“You can think about your personal view of these words or you can take them just as simple words.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“The first word is woods.”

Amelia drew a hike trail which reminded her the times she went for long runs. She also drew Owen’s trailer and the view from the dream house porch to that old tree what was cut down after Derek died.

“Let me know when you’re done.” Violet said softly.

Amelia took few more minutes to use some colors too.

“I’m done.” Amelia said.

“Good.” Violet smiled. “Now write words around your drawings which come in your head first.”

Around the hike trail she used green to wrote words like running, free, alone, quiet, no obligations, calm. With Owen’s trailer she changed the color to red and remembered the kiss, love, no nightmares, Owen, sparkling water, no game, safe. And the dream house the first thing she wrote with blue was Derek. Happy, the porch, the kids, stars but suddenly she took the black pencil and wrote ALONE, nightmares, no one, oxy. Amelia also wrote Mer, Owen, the dream house, Derek.

“Are you done?” Violet asked after Amelia hadn’t written anything in the last few minutes.

“Yup.”

“Next I want you to turn the paper over. Write words to describe these couple of days before and after you came to LA few weeks ago.” She saw Amelia still not moving. “Take your time, there’s no rush.” Violet said calmly.

Amelia still had the black pencil in her hands and wrote Penny, Derek, the dinner party, Mer. She changed the color to blue Owen, surgeries, Edwards.

Amelia kept going with the blue when she wrote words about LA. Family, practice, fun, laugh, enjoy, love, ocean, friendships.

Then she stopped. Amelia put the blue pencil slowly on the table and took the black one again. Violet was already expecting that.

Amelia started writing slowly. Patient, my baby, flipping out, no control, the car crash, no memory about what happened. The biggest word she wrote was THE CHAIR.

Amelia threw the pencil on the table and sighed. “I’m done.”

“Great.” Violet smiled. “Do you mind if I read it?”

“Nope. Go ahead.” Amelia said.

Violet took the paper from the table and started analyzing it. “I can see you draw very well.”

“Thanks.” Amelia said without any emotions.

“Should I ask you questions about what you’ve drawn or do you want to tell me yourself?”

“I’ll tell you.”

“Okay.” Violet smiled and handed the paper to Amelia.

“So, with the woods my first memory is from after my first rehab. I took up with running till I got hit by a minivan. I could go for miles because there was no one to blame or judge me. I felt happy there. But after ending up at the hospital I started using again.”

“Okay. That’s good, Amelia. What’s the next picture about?”

“Okay. That’s good, Amelia. What’s the next picture about?”

“It’s Owen’s trailer. We kissed for the first time in front of it. I took a sparkling lime water with me because I don’t drink.” Amelia smiled to the memory. “So, I told him I have no game and was about to leave. Owen called out if I want some too but I yelled back that I’m not thirsty. Owen ran after me and told me to stop walking. We looked in the eyes and he told me “I’m going to kiss you now, so don’t say anything.” It was seriously the hottest kiss I’ve ever had.” Amelia laughed and so did Violet. “When we pulled apart he said that I can go home now. I felt awkward because we hadn’t said anything about having feelings towards each other but we both had them.” Amelia smiled again.

“That’s seriously very romantic.” Violet smiled too.

“So the next thing is that tree. It’s the view from the dream house porch.”

“What’s the dream house?” Violet asked.

“We call it the house what Derek built for Mer. She sold the house after Derek died and now we live in her mom’s house.”

“Okay but why did you decide to draw that view?”

“It was my hiding spot. I loved to watch that old tree and think how much it had been through. All the storms and very hot days, all the damage people have done to that place and the kids playing around it. It just calmed me down. But then they shut out that tree and I had no hiding spot anymore. Mer left with the kids, Owen went to the army, Derek was gone and they even took the tree from me.” Amelia said coldly.

“Is that why you striked through these names and words?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you write oxy there too?”

“Yes. It was when Owen came back. Richard, he goes to AA too, was worried about me after everyone left and I basically lived at the hospital. He invited me for a coffee but I started yelling at him and then Owen showed up. I got oxy and went to the porch. I was deciding if I’ll take it or not. Again, Owen showed up and he made me feel all that pain and grief. So I didn’t relapse, he saved me.”

“He does change you a lot.”

“I guess.” Amelia responded.

“Do you think some of those problems still haunt you?” Violet asked.

“It still hurts of course to think about Derek and once in awhile it gets very hard but I push it through.” Amelia left the nightmares out because she knows Violet will ask about them too but she’s not in the mood to talk about them.

“How’s your sobriety going?”

“It’s been okay. People at the hospital know I’m the junky, so.”

“Still no filter, huh?” Violet said and they both laughed. “You can use the words on the paper but you don’t have to. I’d like to hear about what happened in Seattle.”

“Umm, we had a dinner party with Mer and Maggie. Callie, she’s in ortho, invited her new girlfriend to meet us because she’s working with us now. That resident, her girlfriend, came from the same hospital where Derek died. Meredith knew her from the beginning but she said nothing to me. I even hugged that killer.” Amelia was disgusted.

“Why do you blame her?”

“Ha, why? She killed my brother. Penny killed him. He should’ve had the head CT but they didn’t make it. Penny, ughh even that name is just horrible to say. Well she told us she thought Derek needed it but the attendings said there’s no need. She just…” Amelia was definitely worked up now.

“She what?” Violet pushed her more.

“Doesn’t matter.” Amelia said coldly and crossed her arms.

A paus

“Okay. What feelings did that little boy bring back?”

“Can I just go?”

“We’re not done yet, Amelia.” Violet said calmly.

“Oh, I think we are.” Amelia started pushing herself towards the door.

“Amelia, why you run?”

Amelia stopped and turned her chair, so she was facing Violet once again. “That’s a really good joke, you know.” She turned around again.

“Amelia, we’re all here to help you.”

“Why don’t you all just step back and leave me alone?” Amelia said angrily.

“Bella Barnes-Teenage Rebel” Part 2

Summary: This is part 2 of “Bella Barnes-Teenage Rebel.” Bella’s receives a dose of reality!

Word Count:1,339

Warnings: Swearing, angst, stern lecture

A/N: Thank you for reading not only part 1, but any of my fics. Your support and encouragement means a lot. 

HUGE THANK YOU TO @omalleysgirl22, my friend and beta

COLD, HARD FACTS

Y/N and Bucky practically ran every traffic light heading to La Guardia. He asked his wife to drive because his nerves were frazzled. She tried to calm him down. Feelings of relief and anger coursed through both their bodies. How could Bella do this to them? What was she thinking?

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none of us, as americans are truly free despite freedom being a figurehead of a principle which our nation was founded upon. we live in a rigid society in which we are forced to endorse the capitalist system, else we face death instead. we HAVE to live a lifestyle of living in a bought home, eating our bought food, attending our bought school, having our bought cars, getting our bought jobs, and making our own money so we can make others buy from us instead. no matter what kind of careeer someone has, our lives basically chalk up to spinning as another capitalist cog in the long run. you wouldnt be able to live in the woods and build your own home from scratch and stay there for the rest of your life to fend for yourself if you so desired because inevitably some company or some construction or SOMEONE would happen upon you and try to make you leave so you can be normal again. not saying that strange woodland people ARENT weird, but looking at the bigger picture they are fucking awesome. anyway, fuck capitalism, and fuck the way society is structured in general because we WOULD still have this issue if we were communist instead. capitalism is just one strong contributing factor to the repeating banals of human existence

it’s just that i’m afraid i’m going to ruin you, that’s all. like you’re the kind of happiness you find in a child’s eyes, you’re lightly used chapstick and heavily loved dolls, you’re the smell of a tree on christmas day and the the softest snow on a mid feburary day and wow, i bet people paint pictures of you because they run out of words to say, wow, i’ve run out of words to say, i never thought i’d see the day. 

it’’s just that you’re the breath stolen from my lunges and im the cigarette i smoked yesterday that poisoned it. it’s just that i’m rotting wood and the smell of decay. i’m the smile on a hunter’s face when he gets finished shooting down angels, the dirt under his nails while he plucks off their feathers and uses them to decorate a room. i’m a gruesome black comedy, you laugh because it’s scary, you laugh because it kills. i just don’t want to be the person who takes the ethereal out of you, my soul is vengeful and i’ll make everything suffer, make sure everything i touch has to be human, too. 

built to last. deancas. (ao3)

for shellie <3

Castiel is building a table.

He did his research beforehand. He drew a diagram and labeled it with measurements. He went to the store and picked out the wood. He got the pieces cut to the right size. He purchased a drill and some screws and somehow got fooled into signing up for a credit card. The cashier had given him a strange look as he handed over the form and his ID, but it had saved him twenty-five dollars. He took all his materials and put them in the trunk and hauled them back to the bunker, and now he’s building a table.

“You know,” Dean had said, back when Castiel was still in the research phase, “there are a bunch of spare tables here. You could pick out one you like. Or if you don’t like any of those, we could go to the store. Pick something up from a thrift shop. You don’t have to do this the hard way.”

“No, thank you,” Castiel had said, clicking the arrow that would take him to the next page of pressure treated lumber. “That wouldn’t count.”

Dean had shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he had said, and left Castiel to his own devices.

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Fairy Houses AU

Character A is a solitary artist who likes to use items from nature – shells, bark, sticks, moss, ext – in order to make their sculptures: outdoor fairy houses. Afraid that people will wreck the small houses, Character A posts pictures online of each house, creating an air of mystery around them. Character B is a jogger who uses running to manage their anger. While exploring a new forest trail, Character B accidentally stumbles across Character A’s secret studio in the woods. Slowly, so as to not ‘spook’ them, Character B starts to bring Character A any pretty leaves/pebbles/flowers/ext. that Character B finds on their run.

Dirty 30 Birthday Bash

Part 2

“He was naked?!”

“Naked.”

“Fully naked?”

“Full frontal, I could see everything, naked.”

Waverly’s mouth was hanging slightly open, shocked by the tale of my morning adventure. She looked past me at the glass doors, and I could see her face transform into curiosity as she crossed the living room. “Think he’s still out there?” She pressed her face against the glass hoping to get a glimpse of the half naked man, not even attempting to try to hide her peeping tom tendencies.

“Real subtle, Waverly. And I seriously doubt it. He seemed genuinely sorry for surprising me in that state.”

“I don’t know. From what you told me, he sounded pretty confident with himself.”

“That he was,” I say, thinking about that smile and his question.

“What are you going to do if you see him later today?” Waverly pulls herself away from the doors, sitting down next to me.

“Honestly, I’m planning on trying to dodge him.”

Waverly sighs, shaking her head. “Claire, don’t be stupid. You’re not going to be able to dodge him all week.”

“I don’t know, Wave. I guess pretending like I haven’t met him before really isn’t an option either, huh?”

Waverly doesn’t even respond to my ridiculous question. She just stares at me and shakes her head a few more times before leaving to grab herself a cup of coffee.

——————-

The other girls in the house slowly began to wake up as the morning crept on, each one being told the story of my encounter with our neighbor over breakfast. Kate was thrilled to hear about the guys staying next door.

“This is really going to turn the week into a party!”

“You do have a boyfriend back home, remember?” asked Kate’s roommate Colleen.

Kate waves a hand at her, “Oh stop, it’s just a little innocent fun.”

“And flirting,” Waverly adds, giving Kate a knowing glance.

“Well, it’s a good thing Claire doesn’t have a guy back home so she can enjoy her new Aussie beau,” my friend Rachel teases, her twin sister Hannah making kissing sounds while the other girls laugh.

“Ha ha, very funny you two,” I reply.

Kate’s cousin Lisa turns to me and asks, “What did you say his name was again?”

“His name is Jai.”

Lisa pulls out her phone and begins typing something in. “And he’s Australian?”

“Yeah…why?”

Lisa turns her phone around for everyone at the table to see. “Is this the guy you saw on the deck this morning?”

There on her screen was a picture of Jai. Only, this Jai had a different haircut, an eyebrow piercing, and black tattoos along both sides of his neck.

“That does look like him but he doesn’t-”

“Doesn’t have the piercing or tattoos. That’s because this is a character that Jai has played in a movie. Jai’s an actor.”

At first I wasn’t sure if Lisa was being serious. Kate could read the skepticism on my face as I just sat there and stared at her, waiting for Lisa to spring a ‘Just Kidding!’ at me but it never came. Kate looked at the photo and then googled Jai herself. “Lisa’s right. There’s an Australian actor named Jai Courtney. Here’s a normal photo of himself from his Instagram.”
I looked at the photo Kate held up and back again at the photo on Lisa’s phone and sure enough, they were the same person as the guy I ran into this morning. “Holy shit,” was all I could manage to say. Jai was an actor. In Hollywood. And I had seen him naked.

Kate jumped up from the table and clapped her hands, “Ladies, we have a celebrity next door! I expect everyone to look their best once you step outside. We NEED to be friends with them by the end of the week.”

“I think Claire has taken care of that already, Kate,” Colleen replies while all the other girls nod their heads.

“Of course she has!” Kate laughs, “It just doesn’t hurt if we all make a little effort too.” Kate practically runs to her room to get ready.

“Is anyone else a little offended right now?” Hannah asks.

“Yes. But that’s just Kate,” Waverly says.

“I think we should get back to the more important topic here,” Rachel interrupts, snapping me out of my daze. “So Claire, when do you think the wedding will take place, and will it be in Australia or here in the US?”

I look back at the picture on Lisa’s phone. “Neither, because it’s never going to happen.”

——————-

Since my workout was interrupted this morning, I decide to go for a run along the beach of the lake. There are paths that lead up into the surrounding woods too, and I make my way through some of them to challenge my legs. I’m not much of a long distance runner but after the bizarre direction this day had taken, I knew I needed to push myself to workout some of the crazy.

As I approach the steps from our secluded beach that leads to our house, I feel my right calf muscle begin to tighten and in an instant, I’m falling to the ground, my leg impossible to stand on. I’ve been cursed with Charley horses since my soccer days in high school and despite years of dealing with them, the pain never gets easier to bear. My hands reach for my leg as I try to breathe through the increasing ache from the pull of my muscle as it cramps. I flex the heel of my foot to stretch it out, but it doesn’t seem to be helping.

“Claire? Are you alright?” I look up to see Jai running down the stairs from the deck towards me.

“Yes. Just a cramp. In my leg,” I stammer out through clenched teeth.

Jai kneels down beside me and immediately takes my calf in his hand. He begins kneading the knot that has formed in the back of my leg, and pushes against my toes with his other hand to help me extend my stretch. It takes a minute but the knot starts to slowly unwind. His fingers dig into my skin in a soothing, rhythmic pattern and the pain begins to fade.

“Thank you. It’s feeling much better,” I tell him as my breathing returns to a normal pace and the rest of my body relaxes. That is until I meet Jai’s eyes and my heart starts racing again. He smiles at me and with the pain gone, I’m suddenly very aware of his hand still massaging my leg, along with the disgusting state I must be in after my run.

“That cramp was a doozie,” he says, his fingers making softer caresses against my sore muscle. “You need more water. And a banana.”

“I know. I usually try to hydrate better before a run, but I wasn’t planning on taking one today. My other workout got a little messed up this morning.”

Jai chuckles, a grin spreading across his cheeks. “Hey, you didn’t need to stop on my account.”

“You mean your naked account?”

“That very one,” Jai laughs again and he looks down at my calf he has been massaging and stops. “I really am sorry for this morning. The last thing I’d want to do is make you feel uncomfortable.” He looks back up at me and I can tell he’s being sincere.

I don’t know if it’s his sincerity that gives me the sudden burst of confidence, but I extend my hand and place it on top of his. “I believe you. And I would say I was more shocked than uncomfortable, so you really don’t need to worry about it anymore.” I gently squeeze his hand, hoping he believes me too.

“That’s a relief. I was afraid I scared you off.”

“Not yet. But there’s still 6 more days,” I tease.

“That’s true.” Jai gives me that sly grin I saw this morning. “What are your plans for tonight?” he asks.

“Kate wants to hang around the house tonight. Grill some food on the deck, have some drinks, and just relax.”

“Kate’s the birthday girl?”

“She is,” I say. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you and your friends wanted to join us.” I know she wouldn’t mind, in fact hanging with the actor is exactly what she wants, but I didn’t want to make Kate sound desperate and I wasn’t ready to let him know that I knew he was a celebrity yet.

He rubs his hand on his chin, scratching at some stubble that has started growing there in the last few days. “Your friends like steak?”

“Most of them. Hannah is a vegetarian and her sister is a vegan. They like to one up each other. Some kind of twin rivalry, I guess.”

“I can work with that,” Jai says. “We’ll take care of the entrees and beverages, if you ladies will take care of the sides.”

“I think we can manage that,” I say.

“Well, now that that’s set, we need to get you some water and a banana.” Jai stands up and offers me his hands. I take them and he pulls me up onto my feet. I go to put weight on my right leg, and it’s still too sore to walk on without limping.

Jai turns around and squats in front of me. “Hop on.”

“What?”

“Hop on. I’ll carry you,” Jai says.

“But…I’m all sweaty and gross. I can make it.”

Jai snorts, “I don’t doubt that. But you don’t have to.” I look at the stairs and then back at Jai.

“You’re gonna regret this. I might look small but I’m hefty.” Jai laughs, and I put my arms around his neck and press my stomach against his back. Jai stands and I wrap my legs around his waist. Something stirs deep in my stomach, and my heart begins to race when I feel his hands on the back of my thighs to keep me in place.

“Man, what did you eat for breakfast, bricks?”

“Watch it, mister.”

“I’m just playing with you, love.”

Jai climbs the stairs with minimal effort even with carrying me on his back. A few of his curls on the top of his head bounce as he takes each step, and I have to keep myself from rubbing my face into his luscious waves. I take my time breathing in the scent of vanilla, sandalwood, and cigarette smoke that graces his skin. We reach the top of the stairs, and as Jai heads towards my house I hear whistles from the other side of the deck. Jai turns to face his friends who are all sitting around the patio table.

“I tell ya, only Jai could leave for 5 minutes and return with a girl on his back,” one of the guy calls. The other guys laugh, and Jai removes his right hand to give his friends the finger in return.

“You’re just jealous, mate.”

“Of course I am,” his friend replies. “Can’t wait to actually meet you, Claire!” I hear more laughter behind me as Jai crosses the deck.

“I see you told them about this morning.”

“Are you telling me you didn’t?” Jai asks and my face flushes. He caught me.

“Well, I may have said something to my friends. Mostly just to warn them, you know, in case you decide to get all naked again,” I say.

Jai shakes his head but I can tell he’s smiling. “How noble of you,” he replies.

“I do what I can.”

Jai stops in front of the glass doors to our house. I unwrap my legs from his waist while he slowly lowers my down until my feet reach the ground.

“Thank you for the lift. Literally.”

“You’re welcome. How’s the leg?”

“Sore but after some water and a hot shower, I think I’ll survive,” I tell him.

“I sure hope so.” Jai brushes a few sweaty strands of hair out of my face. “I’ll see you in a bit, love.” Jai hesitates, and it seems like he doesn’t want to end our conversation like this, but after a few seconds, whatever he was thinking is gone and he heads back to his friends on the other side of the deck.

I head inside and jump into the shower. As the hot water runs down my face, I close my eyes and his face is there. I remember the feel of his muscular back against my stomach and the scent of his neck. The way his curls moved in the wind and the way his hands caressed my calf. There’s a warmth growing between my legs and I can’t believe that in less than 24 hours, I’m already wanting the guy next door. I know I told him I would survive, but now I’m not so sure.

—————–

@beautifulramblingbrains @insertamazingwords @tigpooh67 @elaacreditava @bookwarm85

@sparklemichele

I think I tagged everyone who asked to be tagged for the next part. If I missed someone, I’m sorry! Send me a message and I will add you to the list.

Castiel loves the ways his hands feel slipped around the edges of Dean’s hips. He loves the weight there, under his fingertips and palm, the heaviness, the softness. Castiel flicks his eyes upward, to catch Dean’s gaze.

Dean’s eyes are green, that mossy, deep color like a forest after a rain. It’s a color of life.

The colors of Dean are the colors of the forest, browns and golds and greens. The smattering of freckles across his nose makes Castiel think of the texturing on the bark of a tree- there’s so much of Dean that makes Castiel think of plants and outside and nature.

Castiel shouldn’t be surprised. He knows, who Dean is. What Dean is.

It will be winter soon. He will have to go. Already, he looks more tired, more fragile than he used to. Greyer.

Castiel would even swear there was something red to the sheen of his hair.

Dean runs his fingers through Castiel’s hair, pulling his head back ever so slightly such that he can lean forward and kiss him.

Three years, Castiel’s known him, and they’ve never gotten so far before.

He remembers the first time he met him- he’d stumbled from out of the woods in a backpacking backpack and khakis and socks, plaid shirt a little open, looking the picture of an outdoorsman. Tanned and healthy and bright.

“Sorry,” he’d said, “I think I read my map wrong or I was on the wrong trail or something-”

Castiel stood on his porch and looked at him and smiled, despite himself. Still moving in and nervous, new to this area, to these woods. “How old is your map?” he asked. “This house is at least forty years old.”

He’d blushed. “A friend gave it to me,” Dean answered. “Can you just- direct me back into the wood?”

The wood Dean was looking for had been reduced, further and further, in the fifty years he’d been asleep, until it was the handful of acres left that Dean had already stomped through. A camping ground and lake, but not the miles and miles and miles of space that Dean had grown up in.

Castiel didn’t know that at the time, though, he just thought he was lost, which, he supposed, he was.

It had been little things, at first. Dean didn’t ever seem to be hungry, which was strange for someone who hiked so much. He was always thirsty, though. Castiel would see him for a couple of evenings and then not see him for weeks. He’d always come out from that same spot in the woods, no matter what direction Castiel had seen him leave in, hitching a ride with whoever had come down the road.

It was a month or so into the summer of the second year when it rained.

“Really,” Castiel said. “Dean- Dean I can’t have you out there in this- it’s thundering, you could get struck by lightning.”

“Really,” he’d said, “Cas, I’ll be fine- I’ve got the tent set up in the woods, it’s really not that bad and-”
And then there’d been more thunder and more lightning and then Dean had accquiesed.

And when Castiel woke up that morning, walked into the living room where Dean was still asleep on the couch, he’d had roots.

Wrapping over his arms and legs into the couch, into the floor, into the ground. Dean had grown roots through the bedrock and into the soil and-

Dryad. He’s a dryad.

And he comes up, alive and bright in the spring and summer and in the late fall, he goes back to sleep. And sometimes he sleeps for a longer time, for years even.

A sunlight eater and rain drinker, a forest guardian, a wanderer who always comes back to his home wood.

Which means that this thing, between them, is strange. Hard to explain. Dean’s clothes and tent and backpack and map, they’re all older than Castiel is, a gift from a friend of Dean’s from long ago. From one of the first times Dean woke up.

There’s a scar on Dean’s side, an explanation for why he slept so long to not know about the wood shrinking.

“She had a jealous husband,” Dean explained. “He found me in the winter, tried to make firewood of me. Being awake in the winter and the injury, it made me tired so I rested.” His eyes squint with the action of memory, trying to grasp it. “She saved me. Caught his axe before the blow could go all the way through.”

Castiel doesn’t ask if there had been others, before him. He knows there must be. Dean’s a beautiful- Dean’s beautiful. And tender and funny and sweet.

This is probably the last time Castiel will see him before spring. Before a spring.

Dean kisses him for a long time, like he is trying his hardest to remember everything of him before he goes in for his long sleep.

“Stay warm,” Dean says. “And safe. And healthy. Don’t forget to eat.”

Dean says the same goodbyes to Castiel that Castiel used to say to Dean before he went hiking or hitching.

Castiel holds Dean.

He used to love fall.

Oh no! Moira, my emotions are all over the place! So beautiful! I love the idea of dryad!Dean! ♥ 

(Dryad!Dean is actually on my to draw list so that’s a sweet coincidence!)

(This is a submission by @moosefeels!)

4

Hey taylorswift! My friends and I are going to see you in like THREE FREAKIN DAYS I CANT BELIEVE IT for Night One at Gillette!! We’re sitting in Section 142, Row 12, and Seats 1-6 and we made these signs for you!

The first picture is all of us at Target on Halloween (you’ll notice a cheerleader, Ana from Frozen, two Taylor Swift Superfans, a runner, Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger), buying 1989 for either the first, second, or third time.

The next three pictures are of the process of the signs being made. Our theme for them was for each of us to pick a song from 1989 that was our favorite, or that meant something to us. My friend Andy ( run-preppy ) made the T and chose Welcome to New York for her theme. Lizzy ( endlesspaces ) made the A, with Bad Blood for inspiration. Sarah made the Y and used Out of the Woods for her theme. I made the L and used New Romantics to create it. Meg made the O with Wildest Dreams in mind, and Shannon ( eveythinginbetween ) did the R with Clean for her theme.

Anyways, we are so excited, I can’t even put my excitement into words. Thank you so much taylorswift for everything you do. WE LOVE YOU AND CANNOT WAIT TO SEE YOU (also I’m super pumped for Haim, Shawn, an Vance). See you soon!
-Nora

Friends

Summary: Katniss and Peeta harbor feelings of resentment and anxiety following the collapse of their fictitious romance. They struggle to deal with their anger before the Victory Tour forces them together.

Note: Find me on AO3 as boobooboo888 or on my fanfic tumblr also as boobooboo888. (thegirlwhoplantedseeds is mostly pictures of trees.)

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Vanity Fair: Our 49 Favorite Things About Taylor Swift’s 1989

Taylor Swift’s fifth album—which, as has been (very) widely reported and commented upon, marks her first full-fledged “pop album”—is now upon us. And now that we’ve listened to 1989 in its entirety (three bonus tracks and three voice memos, included) many, many times, we have compiled the following list of our favorite moments, themes, lyrics, and other related material from this latest chapter of The Taylor Swift Story. 

— The pen-clicking sound at the end of the chorus of “Blank Space.”

— None of the songs, seemingly, are about John Mayer, meaning we don’t have to again contemplate the Mayer-Swift “relationship.”

— The chorus of “How You Get the Girl” is going to sound really good scoring some inescapable makeup commercial this winter.

— “Wildest Dreams” sounds like the song version of a Lana Del Rey spec script, but, somehow, this is more endearing than anything else, coming from Swift (in the way most artists attempt, at one time or another, to mimic/emulate their slightly older idols/contemporaries).

— Despite initial skepticism, “Welcome to New York” has grown on us significantly. (Full disclosure: we were out of the state for the past 10 days, and found ourselves responding much more favorably to the song’s weirdly sanitized, easy-breezy depiction of the city when we were not within it ourselves. By the time we got off our flight late Sunday night, bleary-eyed, greeted with some large red-block “WELCOME TO NEW YORK” signage at J.F.K., it took pretty much all our remaining strength to not Instagram a picture of it captioned, “It’s been waiting for me,” with an un-ironic smiley-face emoji.)

— “ARE WE IN THE CLEAR YET GOOD” (from the end of the chorus of “Out of the Woods”).

— We can report from personal experience that “Shake It Off” is an almost criminally good wedding party song.

— “Bad Blood” makes us want to run through the streets knocking over trash cans (in a (very) good way).

— The repeated, yelped “stay” in “All You Had to Do Was Stay.”

— The way she pronounces “white T-shirt” and “tight little skirt” in the chorus of “Style.”

— The way she pronounces “tall” and “hell” in “Wildest Dreams.”

— The album is extremely cohesive: all the songs are clearly of a piece. It’s almost like she wrote a thesis statement on a whiteboard (you know she has a whiteboard) two years ago (“I moved to New York and I’m single and I like to work out and crop tops are cool!”) and derived all of the songs from there.

— That we are pretty sure she started consistently wearing a red lip this summer only so the “red lip” lyric in “Style” would track.

— The way she dressed the entire summer, and during the promotion of this album, was also extremely consistent and appealing—it always looked like she had put some thought into what she was wearing, but less in a “try hard” way, and more in the manner of the coolest senior girl, when you were a freshman in high school, who always appeared immaculately put-together.

— The lyric “the monsters turned out to be just trees,” from “Out of the Woods” (which, we would feel confident betting, at least 50 people have already gotten tattooed on their bodies).

— That we now have Gchat fodder for the next three weeks, at a minimum

— That we imagine Lorde emailed Taylor something like, “Hey tay, do you think I could get I Know Places for the hunger games soundtrack I’m putting together???,” and Taylor wrote back a super-thoughtful e-mail, declining, which Lorde never responded to, but which she couldn’t even be mad about because Taylor’s e-mail was really on point and courteous and prompt.

— The use of the unusual “ex-man” and “ex-lover” in “Shake It Off” and “Blank Space,” respectively, which makes us never want to use the word “ex-boyfriend” again.

— The spoken-word “hella good hair” from “Shake It Off” (we can’t help it, it charms us).

— That everyone we have spoken with thought she was singing “Starbucks lovers” in the chorus of “Blank Space,” before realizing it’s “long list of ex-lovers.”

— That everyone we’ve spoken with seems to have a different list of “fave songs.”

— The self-awareness/wit of “Blank Space” (a lot of these are about “Blank Space,” huh? Well, it’s really good!).

— That Harry Styles (the ostensible subject of a lot of these songs) seems like the kind of dude who probably doesn’t even realize this album has been released.

— That one of the bonus tracks is titled “Wonderland,” which means that—let this sink in—there has never, in fact, been a Taylor Swift song called “Wonderland” before this point, which is very hard to believe and reminds us all to never make assumptions about anything.

— That this promo cycle has led Swift to create, and consistently update, her (truly amusing) Tumblr.

— That she decided to share three voice memos from the recording process of the album.

— That the memos indicate that, when she initially floated the ideas for these songs to producers, they were very (to a semi-shocking extent) close to what would end up being their final forms.

— The Nelly joke she makes on the “Blank Space” voice memo.

— That—whereas most people spend the weeks after a breakup turning off their phones and mainlining television shows they don’t even like—Swift spent the immediate aftermath of the Styles breakup writing and recording the winning “All You Had to Do Was Stay.”

— This Kelly Clarkson cover of “Shake It Off.” 

— That you can tell she actually had fun filming the “Shake It Off” music video(this can not be said about a lot of recent pop-music videos).

— The way she touches her head while singing “I remember” at the 3:14 minute mark of this performance.

— The way she peers out at her fans from inside her shower at the 1:46 minute mark of this video.

— That “New Romantics” would be track No. 4, rather than a bonus track, on pretty much any other 2014 pop star’s album.

— The lyric “Boys and boys and girls and girls” from “Welcome to New York.”

— The lyric “Cause you know I love the players / and you love the game” from “Blank Space.”

— That there is at least someone out there who thinks she is talking about James Deen, the porn star, not James Dean, in the chorus of “Style.”

— That we are incapable of not singing along to the beginning of the chorus of “This Love” (“This love is good / this love is bad”) and its nursery rhyme-ocity makes us smirk every time.

— That the “move the furniture so we could dance” line from “Out of the Woods” reminds us of the transcendent “we’re dancing around the kitchen in the refrigerator light” section of Red’s “All Too Well.”

— That the “foxes” reference in “I Know Places” makes us think of the fox sweater she wore when she was dating Styles, hands down the best thing to come out of that relationship.

— That the album isn’t on Spotify (yes, this is definitely frustrating, in a logistical sense, but isn’t the fact that Beyoncé and Swift are powerful enough to shun Spotify sort of über-glamorous?).

— That, somehow, “Bad Blood,” which is (almost definitely) about a very unrelatable, specific situation related to Katy Perry (Perry stole her dancers for her arena tour!) is perhaps the most wholly relatable track here.

— That Katy Perry is almost definitely going to tweet an awkward response to “Bad Blood” within the next week.

— That, for a fun game, you can imagine that any (or all) of the songs on this album are about Karlie Kloss.

— That the (non-deluxe) album ends with a song called “Clean,” which just seems so Swift it hurts.

— That we feel very confident Imogen Heap and Swift had a seven- to nine-minute discussion about scented candles during the recording of “Clean.”

— That, for the rest of our lives, no one will have to use their phones to look up how old Taylor Swift is, when someone asks at a dinner party.

— That the foreward in the liner notes ends with the phrasing, “From the girl who said she would never cut her hair or move to New York or find happiness in a world where she is not in love … ,” which makes us want to start over Sex and the City from the beginning.

— That it would no doubt annoy Swift that this list includes 49 items, instead of 13 or 89, and that we, somehow, never having, you know, actually met her in person, feel we “know her” well enough to know this.

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DEAR PHANDOM.

Please hear me out.
What if instead of teasing Dan that he probably won’t be able to take up running in 2015 or do excersie in general, something he wanted for a really really long time (I’m talking from 2007 to this day, 8 years total) and making jokes about his health, we do this shit with him.
I want to start a hashtag, #RunWithDan, about us, the Phandom, posting pictures of us working out and wishing him good luck.
It doesn’t matter if it’s yoga, hardcore bodybuilding, running, taking a walk through the woods or fucking twerking that you are doing, it’s about the support he deserves and needs.
We can do this, he can do this.

Home is Him

There was a place, a home, that Loki liked to imagine. It wasn’t Asgard, nor was it Jotunheim, it was both warm and cold and perhaps to one typically from his lifestyle, a little average. The house was hardly large, but no small hut, either. He liked it, because it was simple, and because what was inside mattered more than golden spires and thrones.

The halls were filled with things both he and Anthony made. Loki liked to imagine his art next to Stark’s mad sculptures the man sometimes crafted. In his mind, he would walk up the stairs and run his fingers over the frames of photographs that lined the wall. Pictures of them together, pictures of the team, of Thor, even. They would be filled with smiles, each and every one of them, and Loki would smile from the memories. 

The kitchen revolved around him, things he used and needed. Anthony cooked, rarely, on birthdays or random occasions when the inventor was awake in the morning and spontaneously decided he could make breakfast. He couldn’t, but not for the lack of trying. 

Loki liked his kitchen neat, but well used. Dark wood rather than chrome, copper pans instead of that Teflon substance. He imagined himself making sweet breads in there, or feeding Anthony tidbits while he prepared dinner. He imagined his children underfoot, stealing their own bites of food while he and Anthony were caught up in one another. He liked the kitchen the best, because the kitchen meant family, and he rarely had that feeling in his life. 

Upstairs, in his imaginary house, were bedrooms and closets and bathrooms. There was a grand bathroom for their shared room, and perhaps the size of it was a little unfit for the house. It glorious all the same.

He always adored a large basin bath, where as Anthony enjoyed his large showers of glass and chrome, for himself. So, of course, the bathroom was massive, with warm tiles underfoot, an in-ground tub, and the shower for his lover. There were mirrors, and all his favorite smelling soaps for both he and Anthony. Spicy, musky, sweet. 

Everything, and everywhere, held signs of Anthony. It was better than the tower, more personal and lived in. More worn, comfortable, loved.

The smooth place on the wall where Anthony always placed a hand as he went around the corner. The worn, wooden edge of the cutting board where he would pick at the wood as he pestered Loki. The sheets that always felt warm from his body, and the bed that felt like home within a home.

He imagined days spent together, sleeping, eating, making love. Even the bad days of fights, and loneliness when one of them went away. There were the nights the power went out from a storm, and their bedroom became aglow with candles as they snuggled under the blankets and talked. Loki imagined it all, and every moment of it was filled with Anthony. Every part of the house had memories between them.

It was not too large, or too small. It was warm in the summer, and cold in the winter. It was simple, beautiful, and it was their home.

Up In The Air + Chapter 11

The airport is the last place best-selling author Killian Jones wanted to end up. Yet when a broken heart and a business class ticket lead him to a chance meeting with a fellow passenger named Emma Swan, he discovers that sometimes the flight you never wanted to take might land you exactly where you’re supposed to be. Rated M for future chapters :] Read on [ff.net] or [AO3] here.  (THIS ONE IS A BIT STEAMY, FRIENDS)


Emma had never been adept at saying goodnight. A simple smile was typically her response when Henry or August said it. An awkward shuffle to the door was her answer when she was ending a bad date - and typically even a decent one. Goodnight just wasn’t her game.

Maybe it was the fact that she hadn’t grown up with anyone to wish her such a standard pleasantry. Perhaps it was the random bouts of insomnia she encountered over the years, the strange sleeplessness she never expected but always loathed. It was definitely the fact that ‘good’ wasn’t typically a word used to describe the everyday events in her life before Storybrooke. Now though - well, now things were more than good.

The pleasant change of pace didn’t mean she had gotten any better at exchanging evening remarks. Yet somehow, in this instance, that was okay - because she didn’t want to say goodnight to Killian Jones. No, not in the slightest.

That determination was exactly what caused her anxious fingers to fumble with her house key, her pulse stuttering and her cheeks taking on a blush she was glad he couldn’t see. She could feel the heat radiating from his close proximity and as she clumsily tried to pair the key with the lock, his breath brushed hot against her neck. Emma couldn’t help the way her eyes closed as she absorbed his presence at her back. She was suddenly so lost in him that she didn’t realize how terribly operation unlock was going.

Here, love,” he almost whispered, his soft lips grazing the space just behind her ear. “Allow me.”

Anything, she thought silently. She bit her lip hard to avoid the offering of that submissive word out loud. A barely audible gasp took its place and Killian seemed to take immediate notice. Emma couldn’t even begin to imagine what he might do with that observation.

The door flew forward with haste and they both stumbled through the entry as his hand landed on her hip. Letting out an expectant gasp, Emma dropped her head sideways as Killian used his guiding fingertips to turn her body back toward him. It was dangerous to chance looking at him during such an instance, but the labored breath he’d left on her neck prompted her eyes upward.

God, he looked wrecked - completely and totally by any sexual standard Emma could think of. She couldn’t help but think of what else she might be able to do to him. She tried not to imagine what else he could do to her.

Emma felt her legs move backward automatically as he surged forward to resume the kiss that had ended far too quickly. The wood of the front door was cool against her back as his hips pressed her into the surface and somehow, Emma’s head reminded her hand to reach behind to flip the lock down. The moment the deadbolt had clicked, he’d pulled her to him in a frenzy - something that almost seemed like a primal need. Emma couldn’t bring herself to question it. She felt it too.

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Corn, Dark , No. 1

Georgia O'Keeffe 

(American, Sun Prairie, Wisconsin 1887–1986 Santa Fe, New Mexico) 

Date: 1924

Medium: Oil on wood fiberboard

Dimensions: 31 ¾ x 11 7/8 in. (80.6 x 30.2 cm)

Credit Line: Alfred Stieglitz Collection, 1950, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, Accession Number: 50.236.1

Description from the Metropolitan Museum of Art:  "In the summer of 1924, O'Keeffe painted three pictures, using the same color schemes and narrow formats, to depict the corn stalks growing in her Lake George garden. More than fifty years later she remembered “the light-colored veins of the dark green leaves reaching out in opposite directions. And every morning a little drop of dew would run down the veins into the center of this plant like a little lake - all fine and fresh.”

See high-res.  

See archive for more Georgia O’Keeffe  HERE