cramped apartments


nine in the afternoon // panic! at the disco

Transference (M) – Chapter 05

cr. [X]

Summary: During a routine visit to the local bakery, you stumble upon an intriguing business card and figure, what the hell. The business arrangement becomes…mutually beneficial. Y’all know where this is going.

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Angst, Smut

Word Count: 10,216

Warning: Tantric!Hoseok, therapist/client relationship, sexual themes, BDSM, shibari, dom/sub roleplay, profanity.

A/N: Here is the long awaited Hoseok POV chapter. If you haven’t read Chapters 1-4 already, I highly recommend doing so by using the links below. I’d also like to take this opportunity to thank @redmandalore​ who’s been a hell of a beta-reader and has helped me tremendously.

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05

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Modern Witches

- Nervous witches collecting rainwater in mason jars and purifying it for non visibility spells. Dousing their wrists and necks and behind their ears to prevent unwanted attention.

- Witches brewing tea and coffee and leaving it to sit for days so that the spirits in their homes will be pleased.

- Twenty year old witches squinting at their scrawled runes in a composition notebook in a cramped apartment as they study for exams.

- Witches arming themselves with non-lethal hexes and curses when they have to walk at night in the city because you can never be too careful.

- Witches adopting their black cats from shelters, and maybe several other cats that aren’t black as well.

- Witches creating fairy lights of floating candles that sometimes drip wax on the floor but will refuse to burn the witch’s dwelling.

- Familiars doubling as therapy pets and service dogs.

baby, my baby | 02

Originally posted by kookmin

“Raise my child, just for twelve months”

◇ pairing: jungkook | reader
◇ genre: angst, fluff. parents au
◇ word count:  3.2 k
◇ author’s note: i will be updating this series every friday evening, 11~12pm korean time! i really hope you enjoy!

previous part ↠ part two next part 

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The Only Exception (Part 9)

Summary: AU. Reader is given the task of running a popular love advice internet show when her coworker is fired. Her cynical attitude toward love makes her offer some harsh advice, and more than a few hearts are caught in the aftermath. Will hers be one of them?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 4,249

Warnings: language, confrontation, threats, therapy session, talks of trauma, dangerous situation, talk of messed up people. Author note under cut.

Part - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10

Originally posted by closer-to-the-edge-of-glory

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The first time Yuuri cuts Victor’s hair it’s more convenience than anything else. The summer was really starting off, and Victor’s hair was reaching near mullet stage when he decided it was time for a cut. He asked Yuuri where to make an appointment when, seemingly without thinking, Yuuri offered to do it for him. 

“Phichit and I used to save cash by cutting each other’s hair. It’s just a shave in the back right?” 

So Victor finds himself sitting in a chair in an open door way of the onsen with an old towel around his neck as his crush trims the back of his head. Lets the soft buzz of the shaver mix with the mindless humming Yuuri does while working. Pushing, just slightly, against the finger tips tilting his head every other way. 

Far too soon Yuuri is pulling the towel away and taking it outside to dump out the hair. 

After that it’s just habit. Sitting in an old creaky chair with an even older towel or blanket around his neck while Yuuri cuts his hair. The first time Yuuri asks him to cut his Victor jumps at the chance. While Yuuri is meticulous, Victor is greedy. He uses it as a chance to run his fingers and (after a certain kiss) nuzzle his face into Yuuri’s kitten soft hair. Breath in the smell of all natural shampoo that Hiroko and Toshiya make in the backyard. A smell that now means home more than any cramped Saint Petersburg apartment ever could. 

So the general consensus seems to be that we’ve yet to see the real reds and blues in season 15 and that the guys we’ve seen are impostors. But where are the real ones? 

  1. They’re in a box canyon somewhere completely unaware of what’s happening, too busy with reenacting a Domestic AU. 
  2. They’re in hiding somewhere in a cramped apartment/hideout slowly driving each other mad.
  3. They’re held captive by Hargrove/They never left the ship. 
  4. The Chorus that’s been mentioned isn’t actually Chorus but someone’s posing as Chorus to start shit up. The reds and blues live in harmony on the real Chorus and are rebuilding Armonia wondering why the UNSC hasn’t contacted them yet. 
  5. They’re with Junior and aware of the situation at hand and are trying to come up with a plan of action.
  6. They’re on a beach holiday somewhere and left their comms at home.
  7. They got houses on the same street in some random suburbia and just don’t read the news?

I… just want my sons back, preferably breathing and living.

Southern Motherf*cking Democratic Republicans (Jefferson x Madison x Burr x Reader) 2 (Final)

Words: 2000+

Warnings: Consistent mentions of sex, flufff

A/N: i’ve been procrastinating on writing a second part to this because i suck, sorry. enjoy! also just realized that the first got more than 100+ notes? thank you loves!

Part 1

After that day, it was extremely difficult to walk out of your apartment without reporters flashing lights in your face or taking pictures of you. It was the same questions, like how does it feel to have three soulmates? And did you ever think this would happen to you? Three eligible bachelors fanning for your affection? But it was not what you imagined. It’s not what anyone imagined meeting their soulmate (correction: *soulmates) would be like.

This was just the beginning of your odd relationship with them. Burr would drop you off at work in the morning, Madison would take you to a local coffee shop on break, and Jefferson would take you home. Once he asked if you would go to his house instead, with a wink.

You didn’t.

It was hard. It was extremely hard to deal with. Your heart was torn in literally three pieces, fighting to share your love with all three of them. You were stressed, and you cursed to the universe every night. There were being even more unfair, they were making you exhausted every day.

Eliza said that you were complaining too much, and that you should appreciate what the world has given you. You retorted back, asking if she could handle having three soulmates. She blushed, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

You decided to not bring it up to her again.

After a few weeks of this, you decided to have a meeting with all three of them at your home. There were few reporters still there, and Thomas made the last few go away, with threatening to call his “resources” to make them get fired. They quickly dispersed after that, never showing their faces to you again. You shook your head at Thomas’s threat, but he insisted that it was for your privacy, and that he would do everything in his power to keep the media out of your lives.

You ordered takeout that night, the boys wanting to buy it for you instead. You scowled them for the hundredth time that day, telling them that you had enough money to spare. You appreciated their kindness, but sometimes, you wanted to treat them instead.

You heard a knock on the door, and opened it, your three soulmates standing there in front of you. You couldn’t ignore the throbbing in your chest when you saw them, the universe reminding you that you loved them more than anything. Jefferson wore a dark purple shirt tonight, his hair neatly combed (if you could do that to the curls on his head). He walked in, kissing your forehead softly. Madison strolled by next, wearing a dark blue shirt. The smile on his face made you grin back at him, he kissed your cheek. Burr was the last, wearing a black shirt. He pulled you into a hug instead, holding you as tight as possible.

They all gathered in the kitchen, sitting at the small table. You lived alone, so a small table with four chairs seemed enough for you, at the time. Now that these massive men were in your home, you made a mental note to buy a bigger table. The three of them were cramped in the apartment, constantly bumping into each other. Maybe a bigger apartment instead.

“How are you, my love?” Jefferson asked, gathering the plates.

“I’m fine, Thomas.” You replied, pulling out the rice containers. James placed his hand on the small of your back, telling you to sit down.

“We’ve got this, Y/N. You bought the food, so we’ll serve you.” Burr grabbed sodas out of the fridge, and James helped, putting ice in the cups.

You were extremely thankful for them. As you four sat down, Madison next to you and Burr and Jefferson across from you. You wanted to enjoy your moment with the boys, but you couldn’t help but bring up the point that you needed to make. They were chatting with each other, ignoring your pleas and gestures. After a minute of this, you rose you voice, causing them all to look at you.

“Listen, guys, listen. I, don’t you think our situation is weird? We’re all soulmates, isn’t that strange to you at all?” Madison was the first one to shake his head.

“Not at all. Before we met you, Thomas and I grew up knowing that there was someone out there who had the same tattoo as us. Once ours didn’t glow or hurt when we saw it, we knew there was a missing link.” Madison glanced over at Burr. “Two missing links.”

“James is right, this seems okay to me. Why, do you not like us?” Burr asked, pausing in his eating. You sighed, putting your head in your hands. You were constantly bombarded with mixed emotions from the three of them all the time. There was research done that suggests soulmates felt the pain and other emotions of their loved one, and vice versa. Since you had three, you felt all of what they felt.

Right now, you felt nervousness emulating from all of them. It was cumbersome to deal with all their emotions at the same time. Your head was throbbing, and you tried to deal with it. “No, Aaron, that’s not what I’m trying to say. I just, I don’t know if I can do this.” You whispered.

You felt a burning sensation on your arm, and looked at it quickly. The dragon tattoo on your arm was burning bright red, fading the tail of the dragon. You widened your eyes at your arm, looking at your soulmates. They were all looking at theirs as well, watching it fade.

“You’re rejecting us, Y/N?” Thomas whispered, a small bit of sorrow in his eyes.

“No, I’m not, I-“

“We’ve researched this for our whole lives, Y/N, don’t you remember? We know what happens to soulmates when one of them rejects the other. Your tattoo begins to fade. As you grow away from them, it continues to dissipate, until there is nothing left. We know what we’re talking about.” Thomas hissed, growing angry. You shook your head, looking at the dragon.

“I don’t know how I feel about all of you, about this.” You whispered. “I care about all of you, but it’s like I’m not myself anymore. It’s like, everything you guys think, everything you do, consumes me. I can’t think around you all.”

Burr grabbed your fingers, his eyes pleading with you. “We can figure this out, we are scientists. We can make it easier for you to handle. Just, just don’t give up on us, please.” Burr said desperately. You hated hearing his voice shake, but you needed some space, and space. To deal with this.

You nodded, hearing Burr sigh in relief. He was the most sensitive out of the four of you. Since you two have met, he needed constant reassurance that you were not going to leave him. You always wondered why, but never found the time to ask him about it.

“I won’t give up on you three, I need some time. I need some time to stop these headaches that I’m getting. It’s hard enough to deal with my own emotions, let alone three other people.” They nodded. You sensed relief from the rest of them, and it calmed your headache. Dealing with positive emotions were much easier than negative ones.

“Can we eat in piece, now?” Thomas mumbled, grabbing an egg roll from the pile. You smiled at him, picking the sweet and sour chicken out of the middle. “Y/N, I told you to get soy sauce.” He grumbled, staring at the sauces on the table.

“I asked the lady for it, did she not put any in the bag?” Thomas pouted, and you told him to check in the closet for sauce. Fortunately, you saved packages from previous takeout. He grinned happily, sitting back down next to Burr. “Guys, I have a question.” They all looked up at you. “Do you, do you feel the same way about each other like I feel about you. You know, romantic feelings?” Burr laughed, glancing at the two men next to him.

“Why do you ask?” Madison asked.

“Because, it seems weird that we’re soulmates and I only love you, but you don’t love each other.”

“Good question.” Thomas replied, lending you no more information. You rolled your eyes at his lack of a response.

“Come on.” You grumbled.

“We do, love each other.” Madison answered for them, twirling noodles in his fork. “Before we met you, it was more like a brotherly love. We knew we were soulmates, too, so that was kind of a given.”

Thomas interrupted Madison. “We didn’t know how many people were going to be soulmates with us, especially after we found Burr. Honestly, I thought it was going to be more than ten people, which sounds ridiculous.” He mumbled, playing with his mac and cheese. You made it for him yourself, since he was always unhappy when dinner didn’t include the “delicacy” (he called mac and cheese that constantly).

“I’m happy that it’s only four, Y/N. Three’s a crowd, four’s a party.” Burr winked, causing you to blush.

“But yes, we do love each other. Once our tattoos glowed, there was a click, at least for me, when I looked at the other two. It was like I was seeing them for the first time.” James replied, smiling at the other two. “I’m happy for us, I really am.”

“And we’ll have great sex.” Thomas murmured, making your face reddened even more than before. You were reminded of Eliza’s look when she mentioned the four of you.

“You’re embarrassing Y/N.” Burr chuckled. Thomas looked up from his food, smirking at you. He wiggled his eyebrows, nudging Burr. Burr grinned, putting his hand on Thomas’s thigh.

“Can we stop talking about the deed? I just want to watch a movie later.” You mumbled. Who knows what emotions you would feel when that happened.

“And after…?” Madison questioned, giving you an evil grin. You gasped, surprised at how blunt Madison was. He was usually the one to mediate and calm everyone down, but it seems like tonight, he was encouraging the other two. You snickered.

“Let’s just focus on the movie right now.”

“We’re definitely gonna f*ck tonight.” Thomas mumbled, and you threw a piece of bread at him. He raised his eyebrows, holding a piece of pork in his hand. You warned him with your eyes, and he grinned, tossing the piece of food at you. The sauce on it hit your face, leaving a trail of grease. You glared at him, picking up the rice container in front of you.

Thomas held his hands up in defense, looking at you. “Come on, Y/N, you started it! Just, not the rice, please. It would take me forever to get it out of my hair.” He complained, and you tossed it anyway, the pellets going on all three of you boyfriends. James sighed, picking the rice off his food. Aaron laughed, grabbing the noodle container. He looked at James, then placed it quickly on his hair, giggling evilly.

James frowned, the noodles cascading down his face. “That’s it, I’m going to stop this right now.” James grabbed the soda bottle from the middle of the table, and poured it on Aaron, and you heard a gasp come out of his mouth.

You three began this insane food fight, tossing anything that was close by. After a few minutes, all the food was on the floor, stains were everywhere; from the ceiling fan to inside your closet. When you were looking at the aftermath, they boys stared at you sheepishly. You broke out into a grin, and laughed.

“You guys are so going to help me fix this up.” James grabbed your waist and ran, carrying you in his arms. You laughed, hitting him on his back softly. “James, we need to clean this up! I don’t want it to stain!”

“We’ll clean it later, but now…” Thomas said, grinning. Aaron was hanging on Thomas’s back, all of them leading you to the bedroom. The happiness radiating from all of them made your heart swell with glee.

And that’s when you knew. You knew that you could handle being with the three of them. At this moment, you could not imagine your life without them in it.

Creepypasta #1095: The Room At The Bottom Of The Stairs

Length: Super long

This is the story of what happened to my family when I was 14. It was the strangest series of experiences I’ve ever had. 

My dad was an abuser. He never really touched me - he mostly ignored me, like I was beneath his notice - but he was terribly cruel to my mother. He never raised his voice or hit her when we were watching, but he would just quietly criticise her in an almost unbroken stream of soft, matter-of-fact verbal abuse. Also, while he may not have done it in front of us, I know he definitely hit her. My mother was - and still is today - a graceful woman. The stories about her tripping on the stairs or slipping on the wet bathroom floor never rang true, and yet we all saw the bruises, the arm in a sling, the band-aids over grazes.

She left him when I was 14 and we were all relieved. I felt no love for him and I had become more and more convinced over the last couple of years that one day he would kill her, and maybe us too. Seriously, he was a frightening man - seemingly soft-spoken, but cold and intense. When stories crop up on the news about fathers snapping and murdering their families, I always imagine my dad could easily have been one of them.

So we left, and I was glad. There were three of us: me, mum, and my big brother Joseph who was a 16 at the time, only a few months off 17. Technically, he was old enough that he could have left home already, but like me he lived in fear of what dad might do without a tall, muscular 17 year old in the house. Joey was a rugby player, a hundred kilos of solid muscle, but the opposite of our father: gentle, sweet, generous. I think it was his growing resentment of our father that pushed mum to leave. She told me years later that she had nightmares about Joey losing it and beating dad to a pulp, ending up in prison.

Mum did her homework as thoroughly as she could. She got the court order in place so dad would be barred from entering the property or coming anywhere near it, and the very next day she had the moving truck and the self-storage unit booked. A soon-to-be homeless unemployed single mother has limited resources, so we had to do all the moving ourselves. That was a long, exhausting day, but it was good, too. Liberating. We knew we were leaving that bastard behind.

Most of our stuff was stored away and we lived for a couple of months with mum’s sister Bella and her husband Steve. Their apartment was small for just the two of them, so with five of us there it was insanely cramped. Mum’s plan was simple enough - get a job, any job, and then find a place to rent - but the job market wasn’t great for a fortysomething single mum who hadn’t worked in almost 20 years.

Thankfully, the government came through with some emergency payments. Between that and Joey’s income from his weekend job, we had enough money coming in that we could maybe think about moving into somewhere very cheap. It wasn’t just the cramped apartment, either. Mum didn’t talk about it much, but she knew that dad knew her sister’s address. A few times the phone would ring in the middle of the night and the caller would hang up without saying anything, so mum was starting to get spooked.

Our stroke of luck came in a matched pair. Mum got a job interview for an office admin position, and it went very well (the interviewer was a sympathetic older woman and mum was very honest about why she was looking for work after such a long break). On the way home on the bus, she saw a “for lease” sign. My mum has always been very spiritual but she was feeling very optimistic and decided the sign was, well, “a sign”. She jumped off at the next bus stop and ran back to check it out.

It was an actual house, not a unit or apartment. Most people in my mother’s position would have walked on, assuming it was out of their price range, but my mother was very observant. The road it was on ran along a kind of ridge between two hilltops, and the house was on the uphill side of the road, nestled in against a fairly steep slope. As such, the back yard was considerably higher up than the street, and the back door was on the same level as the upper storey out the front.

My mother noticed that the exterior of the house - stucco over brick, painted a creamy white - was looking pretty shabby. It was all surface dirt, the kind that would come off easily with a hose and a broom. The fact that nobody had bothered made mum feel certain the house wasn’t getting a lot of love. She took a closer look at the “for lease” sign, swinging from a wooden post in the front yard. Sure enough it was looking very weathered too. She jotted down the phone number and - she confessed to me later - almost skipped back to the bus stop.

Her instincts were good: an unusually frank agent admitted that it had been sitting empty for months and the owners were eager to get a tenant in. The rent they were asking was shockingly low and well within our budget. Mum got the rental approval and a new job on the same day, and we all felt like our troubles were over.

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Prompt: Still happens before they’re together, preferably in season 4.  From @castlefanficprompts.  Sometime between 47 Seconds and Always, because of course it is.

It’s lucky that she hears the click, really.  She’s been distracted the last little while, and annoyed with herself for it, which is a distraction in and of itself.  She shouldn’t be pining for Castle like a teenager with her first crush.  If he’s over her, well, she can get over him too.  Plenty of fish in the sea.

(She doesn’t want another fish, though.  She wants him.  Loves him.  And she can’t simply switch that off because he’s found himself a shiny new stewardess - flight attendant - whatever she is.)

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The House of Beasts, Part 1

Here is my official first chapter for the House of Beasts!

Summary: Prythian University, the grounds where frat houses wage wars and throw the best parties yet. Feyre, an art student and girlfriend to the Head of House of the Spring House, discovers secrets everyone’s been keeping from her for the last year and a half. 

An ACOTAR/ACOMAF AU, which begins as Feylin then evolves into Feysand. Begins as ACOTAR, includes AU of Under the Mountain, but will focus more on Acomaf. 

Word Count: 2038 words

Once again, thank you all for withholding any hate and supplying only constructive criticism (I really need it!) and sending any requests, suggestions, etc.  

Disclaimer: All characters and some direct and or modified quotes belong to Sarah J Maas, as well as some of the plot points. I take no credit for them whatsoever

Part 1: Parties

I looked across the lush grounds of Prythian University, my cotton robe tucked tightly around the curves of my figure, and I sighed at the wonderfully gorgeous campus that swept across my view. Students walked along, talking together, backpacks strung over their shoulders and heavy books bound to their arms. Autumn kissed the trees that dotted the grounds, leaves collecting within the tracks of students’ footprints. The fall air caressed my skin blissfully and I closed my eyes.

It had been 6 months since I’d moved into Spring House. The six happiest months of my existence, probably.

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ice cream au part three.

“Get out of the way.”

Neil turns away from where he’s distracted by a pint of ice cream (vodka key lime pie, probably the only flavour Wymack’s asshole of a son won’t turn his nose up at, he thinks), only to find himself approximately eye level with Andrew Minyard’s crotch. “Huh?”

“Move,” Andrew says, using the toe of his boot to nudge Neil out of his crouch and away from the freezer.

“Don’t you get enough ice cream?”

Andrew shrugs as he pulls out a few pints that look obnoxiously sweet, hesitating for a moment before also grabbing a plainer cookie dough. “Palmetto’s expensive.”

As he picks up his basket, Neil acknowledges that yeah, it’s kind of weird that Andrew is willing to drop $50 on ice cream every week. Including his tips.

“So you spend extra money buying both our ice cream and store bought?” Neil asks, mystified.

Andrew hums noncommittally. His face is flushed by the cold air of the freezer section. He looks at Neil consideringly, before finally saying, “You look like you like vanilla. Boring things.”

Neil feels a bit like he did whenever the class was talking about a reading he hadn’t done. Lost and just a bit stupid as Andrew stares at him. He isn’t sure whether he had just been insulted, but says “I guess?” anyways.

“Predictable,” Andrew mutters, turning to leave the aisle. When Neil doesn’t move, he snaps, “What are you waiting for? Hurry up.”

It takes a moment for Neil to realize that Andrew’s still talking to him. Confused, he follows Andrew all the way to the checkout (where he pays for his assortment of apples, granola bars, microwave meals, and milk) then to Andrew’s car, which is sleek and shiny and part of the reason why Neil had never really thought too hard about Andrew’s spending habits.

“You don’t drive,” Andrew states more than asks, pulling out his keys.

“I can. I just don’t have a car.” Usually Matt’s thrilled to chauffeur him around, so it doesn’t really matter. Neil’s fine with walking otherwise.

“I can give you a ride.”

Neil squints at Andrew suspiciously. As far as he knows, the extent of their interactions has been Neil serving Andrew ice cream and that one disaster of a group project. “You don’t have to.”

Andrew looks at him impatiently. “I’m not offering it for free. I got cookie dough ice cream. You eat the plain parts for me, and I’ll drive you home.”

“What’s the point of buying ice cream then?”

Sighing, as if Neil is the biggest idiot in the world, Andrew tells him, “Haagen-dazs cookie dough is worth it. Do we have a deal?”

Neil’s almost tempted to say no, to go home and turn on a game or eat an actual dinner. Then he remembers the growing stack of homework in his and Matt’s apartment, and that makes up his mind. “Yeah, sure.”

The drive to Andrew’s house is quiet, because neither Andrew nor Neil are any good at small talk. Neil keeps noticing Andrew looking at him from the corner of his eyes, and busies himself with gazing out of the window. He feels charitable enough to help Andrew pull his bags out of the trunk, and belatedly remembers that he has groceries that need to be chilled until he leaves.

“Your house is big,” Neil observes, only because he had gotten used to cramped apartments and cheap rentals.

Andrew shrugs, gesturing for Neil to dump the bags onto the counter and only bothering to put away the other pints of ice cream. “I live with my cousins and our roommate. It isn’t big enough.”

He pulls out two spoons from a drawer and breaks the seal on the cookie dough. For a moment Andrew pauses, spoon hovering over the pint, before scooping out some vanilla and unburying a chunk of dough underneath.

“Here,” he says offering the spoon to Neil.


Neil reaches out to take it, but Andrew must have something else in mind because he shoves it roughly in the direction of Neil’s mouth. It makes him go cross-eyed, and Neil only hesitates for a moment (what are the odds that this is a poisoning attempt?) before leaning in and taking the bite.

It’s sweet, which despite all of Matt’s attempts, Neil has never really gotten used to. He looks up to find Andrew staring at him, eyes focused on his mouth with a strange sort of intensity. Suddenly self-conscious, Neil licks his lips, wondering if there is something on them. The room seems to get warmer and he sees Andrew swallow heavily, his Adam’s apple bobbing, before he tears his eyes away from Neil to scoop a bite for himself.

This time when Andrew offers Neil some ice cream, he lets Neil take the spoon for himself.

2800 Miles Away (Song-Fic)

Leonardo (2014/16) x Reader

Notes: Thank you for requesting!! I made this into a semi-song fic because I found a great song for it.

Prompt: “How about something with ether Leo or Donnie where the reader (their crush) goes to school out of state and they return in the summer and surprise the boys. But they’re different somehow (their hair is shorter or their more fit or they gained weight, etc)”

Song: Blackbear - N Y L A

Word count: 1075

Warnings: Sadness

Disclaimer: I don’t own TMNT, and you belong to you <3

“I have a question. So like, when something is suspicious we say ‘Something smells fishy’. Why do we do that? Why is fish-smell suspicious? What did the fish do?” Leonardo looked up at you from his place on the couch, a small, confused smile on his face.

“I’m going to miss you, and your stupidity.” Rolling your eyes, you sat next to him, giving him half of you sandwich and taking a bite of your own.

“I know you will.”

You were going on an exchange program with your school, you were to leave for LA that night, and you weren’t happy about it. Your parents thought it would be good for you, and signed you up for the whole summer with three other people you didn’t even talk to.

You’re in New York / I’m in LA

You looked down at Leo’s sleeping form on your couch, leaning down and kissing his forehead softly. Neither of you were together, but you were best friends. You hadn’t had the heart to wake him up. He’d never been apart from you for so long, especially without anyway to contact you. His phone’s service didn’t really reach that far.

We’re oceans away / I’ll be asleep at the time you’re awake

He didn’t want you to leave. He couldn’t function without you there, his head wasn’t right, and he felt like he wasn’t in control of everything. He’d gotten up from the couch at 1AM, finding the note in your kitchen. ‘I love you, I’ll see you in 3 months.’

He knew there was a way to get out of it; he got Donnie to find out the program online. Leo was hurt that you didn’t even take it into consideration. You just brushed it off.

He wouldn’t stop you; he could tell you wanted to go, even though every time he asked, you denied it, saying you’d rather spend your summer with him.

I know that you’re hurt / But I’ll make it work / I’ll make you stay

He couldn’t make you stay. You left, and the door was still unlocked, the key still in the door. Kissing the note, he went back to the couch, and sat there for a while before getting up and leaving quietly. It was too hard to be in there without you.

I’m in L.A. / You’re in New York

You got to your room in the big house you were staying in. It was like something from a movie, tall ceilings, and big rooms. But it wasn’t New York. It wasn’t your cramped studio apartment with a broken toilet and a bed too big for the tiny bedroom. It wasn’t home. 

I missed you today / So bad that it hurts

You cried into your pillow for God knows how long. You were pretty sure the people you were staying with thought you were crazy. You should’ve woken him up. You should’ve said goodbye. You should’ve done a lot of things. But you didn’t and you were going to regret it for the next 3 months.

My heart it burns, yes it burns / 2800 miles away / And I’ll be asleep by the time you’re awake / So I’m calling to say

He tried calling your cell countless of times, he’d even gotten Donnie to try and broaden the connection, but he could only reach Chicago if he stood on the couch with his hand in the air. Leo tried to keep himself preoccupied, and tried to ignore the searing pain he felt whenever Mikey mentioned you, or Raph asked how you were. Leo didn’t know, and it’d been a whole month. You could be hurt, and you could be sad. Or worse, you could be happy and forgotten all about him.

That’s what hurt the most. The tiny possibility that you were so happy over there that you didn’t care to come back. 

I’ll make you stay / Until that day I’m one plane ride away 

The hair on the ground covered your feet, sticking to them as you paced back and forth in the grand bathroom of this unknown house. You missed him so much it hurt. If it was a week, fine, but it had already been 2 and you couldn’t keep up the happy smiles anymore. You need to be home, in Leonardo’s arms. 

Do you feel the same? / Do you feel the same?

He was a wreck without you, but like you, was too proud to show it. He kept up his confident, serious appearance, but behind closed doors he was a lost puppy, needing a home. His home. He needed you.

Hearing a tap against the wooden door of his room, he hoarsely shouted that he’d be out in a second, wiping away any tears on his face.

He was taking too long; he was stalling. How can he face his brothers again after crying for hours straight? He had his good days, where he would carry on like normal, but then he’d have his really bad days, where all he wants to do it hold you and hear you tell him it’ll be alright.

Another knock, and then another. It became irritating very quickly. Groaning he got up and swung the door open to reveal you. 

I’ll make you stay / Until that day I’m one plane ride away

You were in his arms, on the floor; both of you just holding each other in his doorway.

Your hair was shorter, your makeup was darker and you were a hell of a lot thinner then when he last saw you. You were different, but your hugs weren’t any different, your chin on his shoulder wasn’t any different and your eyes. Your beautiful eyes, still the same color that left. He smiled, and you smiled. And that’s when he kissed you, and you kissed him back.

Late night care - Niall Horan

A/N: Dear anon, here you have the Niall imagine you asked for.
It’d be great if you let me know what you thought about it :)


Laying on bed as he winced in pain, Niall realised having eaten that large amount of food at the Slow Hands’ release party wasn’t, by far, the best decision he had ever made.

He could feel the consequences of not having taken the advice you insistently repeated during the whole course of the night, the words you said back a few hours ago floating in his mind “You should stop snacking or else you’ll regret it later”

He tried not to writhe very much but it was getting pretty impossible, as the cramps, apart from not ceasing, increased even more.


He curled up and buried into the sheets, the previous mild currents of air suddenly dropping a few degrees to him. Noticing the new position didn’t ease the pain even at its slightest, he rubbed his tummy in back and forth motions, hoping that would be more useful.
Despite his initial intention of not waking you up, the desperation to put an end to his pain, mixed with his weak condition to try so, made him release his whimpers and groans in a better audible tone, trying to make these reach your ears, but still feeling bad for making you wake up in the middle of the night just because of his stubbornness.

You groaned at the foreign sound in the pleasant silence you were absorbed in. Being the light sleeper you were, his actions cut your rest. Sitting up and turning on the lamp at your nightstand, you rubbed your eyes as you asked “Ni, is everything okay?”

Before you could focus your vision, he was fast to prop up and try to look better than he actually felt, quite embarrassed about the situation “Uhm yeah baby, I’m just feeling a bit under the weather”

You looked at him, tilting your head. Regretting having woken you up, he glanced at your grinning countenance, not understanding what was going on.

“So you’re feeling sick”


“Could you be any specific“

“Not really, it’s a general thing”

Picking him by the chin so that his blue orbs met yours, you suggested “Well, I’ll shed a light on you. You’re lying to me, it’s very specific, you’re having a stomachache, aren’t you?”
A silence was followed right after, in which Niall tried to choose between confessing or making up an excuse and leaving you alone. He decided to go for the first one and, as a pout took control of his lower lip, he said “Ugh yeah… It hurts so bad” A wave of relief came as soon as the words rushed out of his mouth. Now that you were aware of the situation he didn’t hesitated moving towards you to be captured by your warm embrace, your arms wrapped around him and his face landing on the crook of your neck.

“My stubborn leprechaun… I’m not gonna say I warned you, but I warned you” you chuckled, feeling the vibrations of the groan he let out. You both inmersed in a silence, in which you carefully ran your hands through his messy hair, intensifying it’s disheveled look. The pleasing feeling eased the pain coming from his stomach. He nuzzled the skin of your neck, enjoying your delicious scent.

“Are you feeling any better, honey?” Before pulling away from what had been his shelter for the past minutes, he left a peck on the smooth surface “Yeah baby, you’re always the best medicine for me” With a cheeky wink he left the warmth of the sheets “I’ll be right back”

You watched as he walked to the bathroom, when he halted before making it into the room. Turning to give you an uneasy look, he retched, covering his mouth before finally rushing to the toilet. You immediately jumped off of bed and followed him, finding a knelt down Niall leaning towards the toilet, throwing up all the food he had enjoyed without measurement previously.

You stood behind him, facing the side to avoid such view you had in front. Once he was over you stroked soothingly at his back, trying to calm his panting. “Geez, I didn’t see that one coming” “It’s okay baby. Brush your teeth while I go downstairs to make you a tea” He grabbed your hand before you left the room “I love you”


You stood by the kettle waiting for the water to boil. Niall came up from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist, bringing you close to his figure “Hi handsome” you said, he placed a kiss on your temple as an answer back. “I feel bad” He whispered into your ear a few seconds of silence later. You turned to him and threw your arms around his neck. He tried to hide his face in shyness by tilting it to the side where your arm met his neck, but you managed to make him lock eyes with you.

“Hey… look at me. Why?”

“Because sure I’m bothering you with all this stomachache thing”

“Absolutely not! what makes you think so?”

“C’mon baby! I made you stay up the whole night; you had to put up with the not nice view of me throwing up; and now you’re here preparing me a tea to recover, dealing with my situation when I was the one who looked for it. I’m so-”

“Okay you should stop right there. Niall, you’re not bothering me nor you should apologise. This things happen and of course I’m gonna help you if I can. Don’t be silly” With a wink you closed the gap separating you both and left a chaste kiss on his thin lips.

He chuckled, which quite confused you. “I also feel bad because stomachaches are annoying as fuck. I don’t want to be sick!” He groaned “Don’t you say!” you giggled.

He placed a kiss on the tip of your nose

“But you always manage to make it bearable. Thank you my love.”

Domestic Garden Witch: The Faerie Garden Brought Inside

So maybe you’re a college witch with limited space and money, limited to the one window in your dorm. Or, maybe you’re a witch without extensive backyard space who wants to start up a magical garden. Perhaps you’re a kitchen witch who wants the freshest herbs right at her fingertips.

For many witches, having a garden seems to be a bit of a no-brainer. After all, plants and magic go hand-in-hand. Plus, when thinking of a witch, it’s hard not to think of a cottage in the woods with a little vegetable garden out front. Unfortunately for the majority of us, our cottage in the woods is a tiny flat, and our garden out front is a windowsill with limited space.

This is when it comes time to embrace your craftiness and bring your garden indoors! Not only does it place your garden in a convenient location, it also allows you to freshen the air, recycle what would otherwise harm the earth, and embrace your witchy green thumb!

When You Need the Faerie Inside

Last week, we looked at taking herbs bought from the supermarket and growing them on your windowsill. Next week, we’ll be looking at turning eggshells into cute little indoor herb gardens. But something often overlooked when gardens are brought up in regards to witchcraft is the humble yet adorable faerie garden.

In some traditions, gardens featuring colorful yet small flowers and mosses are cultivated in order to create an ideal environment in order to attract the wee folk so that the witch can work with them. But here we are, witches in high-rise apartments with no backyards or in dorm rooms surrounded by many other people and with no space. And witches who are drawn toward faerie tradition or garden tradition aren’t guaranteed to be in an area where garden space is available.

So what do you do of you’re one of these less fortunate witches? You bring your faerie garden indoors, of course!

Terrarium gardens, bottle gardens, enclosed gardens… whatever you choose to call them, they are ideal low-maintenance gardens that you can decorate and arrange to look similar to nearly any environment you desire. To further their appeal for the busy college student or the cramped apartment resident, they are small and only require watering once in their whole construction.

The Container…

When creating your bottled faerie garden, one of the most important factors to consider is the container. You want a jar or a bottle that is able to maintain an airtight seal. You are essentially going to be creating a bubbled ecosystem, and therefore want to avoid losing any moisture from inside the container. Next up, consider the size in relation to the types of plants and decorations you want on the inside. If you have the space for a glass dome as big as an apothecary bell jar, then great! But perhaps you’re like me and are stuck with only enough space for maybe a large mason jar. If you have a smaller container, you’ll need to adjust for smaller amounts of soil and plant life, as well as smaller decorations that can fit into it.

Building it on Up

Depending upon the environment you want to recreate (who’s to say that faeries can’t be in deserts, huh?), it’s good to start from the bottom up. Make a layer of gravel in the bottom of the jar - larger stones and pebbles that can serve as a reservoir for water that pools below the soil layer. Then over that, place a layer of sand and/or soil.

Next come the plants. Remember to select plants that generally grow small and can handle the environment. While the plants are still small, transfer to your new container. If you’re creating the garden in a narrow-necked bottle, you can use wire from a coat hanger to create a loop/hook with which you can insert and transplant the seedling. Take care not to overcrowd your bottle, as these plants will grow and will have to compete for light and nutrients just as they would outdoors.

Between the plants, begin adding your decorations. I recommend using fairly sterile decorations that will work well in the environment - sand and pebbles for a desert, moss and driftwood for forests, et cetera. That’s pretty! But we’re witches looking to attract attention from the faerie folk. Take it a step further. Select plants that are ideal for attracting the spirits you wish to bring into your home. Use your decorations to create living spaces. Little houses and huts can be found in many craft stores for dioramas and miniature projects!

Enchant crystals and stones that you add to the garden for whatever you wish to manifest with the garden. I have seen beautiful bottle gardens with points of amethyst and quartz sticking up from the ground within! Little glass or plastic mushrooms can be added for further visual appeal, especially in forest-style gardens. For deserts, look for succulents, enchant various stones, and add them. I’d even add an arrowhead or bones to add to the visual appeal while also manifesting protection or whatever qualities that the bones’ former body would bring to mind.

When everything is arranged as you desire, add water. Remember, this is the only time you will be adding water for this garden. Do not flood the container, but do be sure that the reservoir of water is mostly full before sealing the environment.

Place your garden in an area near your window where it can get some indirect sunlight (this is important… you don’t want to cook your plants) throughout the day. Condensation on the inside is normal and even encouraged, as that is how the plants will receive the water all over again. As the plants grow and shed old foliage, the foliage will degrade and fertilize the soil, further feeding the plants.

How Can I Witch This?

As mentioned above, the selection of a container, plants, and decorations are all aspects to making this a witchy garden. Select stones and crystals and plants that resonate with you. But we can take it a little further by decorating the jar with sigils and runes for growth and prosperity.

Place faerie offerings on or near the jar, so that they can enjoy the garden you’ve created for them as they partake. This kind of garden also makes an ideal living altar or living altarpiece! It can easily represent earth on an altar, and with the energy put into it, it becomes a great addition to your workings.

This can also be used as an alternative to the traditional witch bottle or jar spells. Burn petitions and mix them into the soil to give it the energy of your intents while also fertilizing the soil with the nutrient-rich ashes. Use decorations that will contribute to the spell. This is a great idea for sweetening, cleansing, and calming spells that you wish to keep discreet!

May your harvests always be fruitful!
Blessed Be! )O(

Cosa Nostra (Pt. 4)

Summary: You were just a girl who took some odd jobs from the Min Syndicate to make some extra cash. When Min Yoongi himself sends a request for you to come to his mansion, any semblance of your normal life gets thrown out the window. What sort of dangers will face you once you become associated with one of the biggest mob bosses?



Word Count: 3.6k

Part [1] [2] [3] [4]

Originally posted by nevermindmyg

A few days had passed since you moved into Yoongi’s mansion practically against your will. Even though you put up a bit of a fight against the idea, Yoongi just steamrolled your thoughts and opinions and had Hoseok help you pack up anything of importance and move it to his place. As much as you hated the idea of living with a mafia leader, you were somewhat relieved to not struggle to pay rent for your cramped apartment anymore.

That is, until you found out just how boring it was at the Min estate. For one thing, you certainly didn’t feel at home there, after all, it was the home of a guy you barely knew. Secondly, Yoongi had banned you from entering most of the rooms claiming that “there’s nothing interesting to see in those rooms”, which limited you to basically your new room, the library, the kitchen, and the main hall. You tried to be good, you really did, but there’s only so much of wandering the same four rooms that a person can take before they start to go crazy. Worst of all, you couldn’t even leave the mansion to do as you pleased. These luxurious walls were essentially just an over glorified prison for you, and you were not happy.

‘At least he didn’t force me to quit my job,’ You thought to yourself as you got dressed for another boring day, ‘I really would have gone crazy then, not having a reason to leave this place.’ You gave yourself a glace over in the rather large mirror that was set against the wall. Satisfied with how you looked, you opened the door to your room and stepped out into the hallway. ‘Still, I’m going to go insane if he doesn’t let me go out and do shit that doesn’t involve work.’

You began to make your way towards Yoongi’s office to complain when you bumped into Hoseok in the hallway, “Oh, hey (Y/n)! How are you?” Hoseok smiled brightly. His pure radiance never failed to stun you, it was truly incredible that someone could be the literal embodiment of sunshine.

“Oh, uh hey Hoseok,” You stuttered awkwardly. You still weren’t use to Yoongi’s men speaking to you. It was hard to figure out how someone was supposed to act around the mafia, “Do you know if Yoongi is in his office? I need to speak with him.”

He cocked his head questioningly, “Why, what do you need to speak to him about?” His tone of voice was a little tense, as if he were ready for you to say something that he would have to do something about.

You huffed, irritated that he wouldn’t just tell you what you wanted to know, “That’s between me and Yoongi, I just want to know where he is so I don’t go searching every room in this place. Care to help out?”

Hoseok’s smile faltered a little at your curt voice, “Well, I’m sorry (Y/n), but you can’t just barge into any room you please, even if you do live here now. Plus, his office is the worst place to walk in like you’re in charge, especially while he’s working.”

“So you’re saying Yoongi is in his office now? Thanks, Hoseok,” You smirked mischievously as you walked past him, proud that you had tricked him into giving away information.

He stood there gaping at you for a moment before he jogged to catch up with you, “Wait, wait, wait! I can’t let you do that (Y/n), Yoongi will have my head if I let you barge in there.” He frowned at you, pleading with his eyes for you to listen to him, but you weren’t in the mood to be sympathetic and listen.

“Sorry, Hoseok, but I really need to give him a piece of my mind right now,” You stopped at Yoongi’s office doors and put your hand on the doorknob before turning to Hoseok and winking, “Don’t worry, I’ll say I gave you the slip so you won’t get in trouble.” Before he could say anything or stop you, you pushed the door open and walked in, seeing Yoongi sitting at his desk reading some papers.

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Coming Home: A Steggy AU


“Peg.” Even over the phone, Howard Stark’s voice teemed with excitement and urgency, slight desperation and much hope. “Peg, we’re so close. We may be able to actually do it!”

Peggy Carter leaned against the counter of her cramped apartment, pressing the phone closer to her cheek. It was the unusual seriousness of her friend that kept annoyance from creeping into her tone. “Do what, Howard?” She tried to elicit more details from him. “What’s going on?”

“…I can find him. I might be able to finally do it, Peg!”

“Find Steve?” Her words caught in her throat. She fiddled with the wire of the phone, her typical calm and confident attitude evaporating instantly, the old wound so easily reopened.

“Yeah, Peg, listen. I’ve been building a plane. It’s small, but it’s equipped with scopes, radar, all the works. I’ve done the math, and I think I know where his plane is.”

“But- he’s gone.” Tears creeped into her eyes, as she spoke, hating her own words, hating her sudden lack of composure.. “Steve is dead.”

“I- I know, Peg. But we can bring him home. Give him a funeral in Brooklyn. That’s what he would have wanted.” Howard sounded desperate and rueful, not at all like his normal boisterous self. “I owe him that. Let me give him that.”

“It was never your fault, Howard. He wouldn’t want you to feel guilty.”

“I need closure, Peg. Don’t you too?” He baited her.

The woman stood alone in her kitchen, her back against the counter. Peggy closed her eyes, thinking of the skinny boy from Brooklyn who would die fighting in the name of his home, knowing he would perish a world away from the place and people he had loved most.

And she knew her answer.


Soon enough, she found herself packed in flight tower with an flight crew, navigators, military officials. The air was tense accompanied only by silence, but occasionally, a few bursts of static would interrupt the stillness.

In all, the environment was unbearable. Peggy thought it odd that all the high ranking officials, who had previously faced a war, couldn’t even sum up the courage to make small talk with one another.

She despised the similarities between this place and the last flight tower she had been in, the one where she had listened to Steve talk as he steered the plane into the water. His voice had been calm enough, though she couldn’t deny the underlying tones of panic beneath the facade. He had talked until he died, the static replacing his sudden goodbye.

But now, the bursts of static meant something new. They gave a quiet sense of hope to the room full of the people closest to Captain America, reassuring them that their friend and comrade received a proper goodbye.

Finally, Howard’s voice emitted from the radio, interrupting the static. “I see something… it’s definitely not snow or ice… for a change…”

The tension in the room spiked, reaching a breaking point like a wire snapping. Excited whispers broke out, sending the room into a flurry. A group of military men congregated around the radio, but Peggy somehow found herself front and center, surrounded by everyone else. She deliberately ignored the awful parallels between her experience just over a month ago and this one as Howard talked.

“I’m landing now. There’s a flat enough sheet of ice in front of me. Everything is frozen for miles and miles, so it should hold.” His words reflected the mood of the flight tower’s; eager, yet still a little sad. Nobody spoke.

“The ice is holding. I’m pretty close, and it does look vaguely like a plane. I’m going to check it out.”

“Affirmative, Howard. Be careful.” The brunette managed, the emotion rising in her chest and making it hard to breathe.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, Peg. You know me.” Howard promised, and Peggy relaxed ever so slightly, trying not to imagine what he was about to discover.

The next ten minutes were agony. Her mind was overworking, thinking of every horrible possibility, worrying about Howard and unable to let any of it show, not in front of her superiors.

“Peggy, I need you to trust me, and I need you to listen to me, okay?” Howard returned abruptly, sounding desperate. Peggy’s heart pounded in her chest as she responded.

“Yes, Howard, I- what is it? What did you find?”

“I need you to leave. Go home, and I’ll call you after I get back.”

“No, absolutely not-”

“Peg, I wouldn’t ask-”

“I have every right to be here!” She half-shouted. The woman’s voice quieted after she took a deep breath, but she still spoke firmly. “I was closer to Steve than anyone else here, and I have every right to stay.”

“Just trust me on this. Peggy, please.”

“I can handle whatever it is you have to say!”

“Agent Carter,” Colonel Philips interrupted, “perhaps Mr. Stark is right.”

The veteran glared at the Colonel, a flush creeping into her cheeks, her outrage showing and betraying her. “I don’t believe this.”

“I’ll explain soon.” Howard tried to assure her, and Peggy was despicably satisfied to hear regret in his voice. She huffed, giving everyone in the room a murderous look before storming out.

They forced her to leave the tower, but Peggy refused to go home while the men were discussing Steve, or whatever it was Howard had to share. She sat on the ground outside, staring at the cement in front her, drawing her coat closer to her in an effort against the cold.


Fantasises, the good and the bad alike, had seized Peggy’s mind and dominated all of her thoughts, as her brain computed, with an uncontrollable frenzy, all the possible outcomes of the day and what Howard was hiding from her. Her paranoia was only fueled further when an ambulance drove up the side of the long runway, parking just a hundred feet away from where the plane would later land. The two doctors pulled a gurney out of their long car and stood by it, waiting for their patient to arrive. Peggy watched with a furrowed brow, wondering if something could possibly be wrong with Howard. There was no pain in his voice when they had talked (or argued, rather). And Steve shouldn’t need doctors, as Peggy had to painfully remind herself.

Another hour and a half passed slowly. Each minute brought a new wave of worry for Peggy. Her foot tapped impatiently, showing both her nerves and her meager attempt at resistance against the extreme cold. Eventually though, a rumble in the sky announced the arrival of Howard, his despicable secret, and, hopefully, the last of Captain America.

As the plane landed, Peggy rose to her feet, and the men from the tower began to spill out around her. She kept her eyes forward, defiantly ignoring her male counterparts. The eyes of Colonel Phillips were on her, she could feel it, but that made a negligible difference on her cold demeanor.

Howard exited the small plane without his usual grand entrance, foregoing that and rushing to the doctors, exchanging a few, hurried words with them before coming over to her. She watched the two men dash over to the plane, craning her neck around Howard’s approaching figure.

Forcing her features to correctly reflect her icy disposition as Peggy wrestled with sympathy for her friend, who looked freezing with his hands stuffed deep into his pockets and his head burrowed deep in his coat, and the anger at him, which had only grown in her hours of waiting. She gave her best glare, and Howard shrunk back, looking appropriately guilty.

“Peg-” He began apologetically.

“I don’t want to hear that you’re sorry, Howard, I want to know what’s going on.” She cut him off, drawing herself up to her full height.

“I can’t do that just yet.” The billionaire stole a quick glance back at the plane, where the doctors were moving a large covered object onto the gurney. Peggy too stared at the strange and questionable scene, her mind still racing.

“I’m not some lovesick bimbo, Howard, I can handle it.”

His face softened ever so slightly, and Peggy saw his usually unbreakable and ego-driven attitude begin to fail. “Please, Peg, just trust me…”

Her nostrils flared. “Do you trust me, then? Because you seem to think that I’ll turn into a whimpering child at the first mention of bad news, that I haven’t already fought in a war, that I haven’t already lost Steve, that I didn’t talk to him while he died-” she stopped herself abruptly, blinking tears out of her eyes, “You have no right to withhold any information from me, Howard. None at all.”

His shoulders sagged. “I have to stand by it, Peg.”

She could only stare at him for a moment more before turning away wordlessly, stalking towards the car, her heel clicking on the pavement. Howard watched her for a moment before something dawned on him.

“Hey-” he started after her, “I’m your ride home!”

She didn’t bother turning around, but called back to him; “I suppose it’ll be a long ride back, then.”


“You’re not trying to make a profit off of this, are you?” demanded Peggy suddenly, “using his blood to make money?”

Howard barely spared her a glance before turning his focus back to the road. “No. I would never.”

“Well, you never involve reasonable people in your mindless money-making schemes, so I had to be sure.” She replied scathingly.

“Peg, if I were making money off of Steve’s blood, you’d kill me when you found out. And there’s no point in makin’ money if you’re not alive to enjoy it.”

She still fumed silently. The man sighed loudly, speeding down the lonely road and desperately thinking of a way to bridge the gap between him and his companion. After a few minutes, he seemed to come to a decision. “I am going to fill you in now, Peg. I was always going to.”

Peggy waited for him to continue, still aloof enough that she remained turned away, but her posture straightened slightly, listening attentively.

“I did find him. I found Steve. But between the ice and the serum… he looked exactly the same.” Peggy was looking directly at him now, transfixed on his face.

An involuntary shudder rippled through her. “He still looks like…?”

“Looked like he was sleeping.” Howard confirmed, and for once, his words came with a gentle delivery. Their eyes met for only a second, Peggy’s shining with tears. “But here’s the real kicker- I found a pulse. Peg, he’s alive.”

A shaking hand covered her mouth, the tears now streaming down her face. “Steve…”

“I could feel his heart beating. The serum did a better job than we ever thought it would.

"I didn’t want to tell you until he was stable,” Howard continued, “you know, no giving you false hope. I wasn’t sure- I could barely believe it.”

“You should have told me.”

“Look at you,” Howard denounced, “I just didn’t want you to lose Steve twice.”

She glared at him through her tears, though her happiness remained clearly splayed across her face. “But he’s stable?”

Her dear friend nodded eagerly. “Yeah, and the doctors even say that he’s woken up a few times this morning.”

More tears of joy slipped down Peggy’s cheek, as she sighed contentedly, the weight of grief disappearing from her shoulders. Such good news felt surreal to her, like it was too good to be true. But there was Howard, smiling at her lightly, and telling her they were on the way to the hospital to see Steve, and they were so close, oh so close.

She sniffed, wiping the wetness from her cheeks. “Thank you, Howard.”


Holding the large, callused, yet limp hand in her own felt so strange to Peggy. She couldn’t help but think how lucky she was that they were both here, the war over and the two of them safe and alive, together. But it still didn’t feel quite real. How could the man she had spent 6 weeks mourning be right there in front of her?

When they had arrived at the hospital, Peggy had been prepared to argue and fight with every nurse that came her way to gain access to Steve, but Howard had just announced their names, grinned impishly at the right women, and then they were right outside his room. “I’ll wait,” Howard had told her, “he’s all yours.” Briefly, Peggy wondered if she could handle this alone, but then she had turned the knob, given Howard and anxious smile and ended up in the same room as Steve Rogers once again in her life.

Now, looking at his face was practically unbearable, despite this being a moment she had spent many nights dreaming about. He hadn’t said anything yet, as Howard had informed her, and Peggy remained unable to believe the miracle in front of her just yet. For now, it was only if a ghost were present, a prominent memory accompanied by the vague sense of hope.

Peggy jumped when Steve gave a long sigh in his sleep, turning his head ever-so-slightly towards her. This small movement distracted her from her focus on his hands, her gaze now shifting to his face. A surge of emotion was created within her, the most dangerous of feelings exploding in her chest. All of the pain, anger and sorrow she had carried with her resurfaced. The frustration at losing Steve extruded inside her, her grievance at how her was so stupidly brave, brave enough to sacrifice his life, how ridiculous it was that they never acted upon their feelings for each other, how she waited, and waited, and never said anything or did anything until it became too late, and he was gone, flying away in that godforsaken plane, until he was crashing into the ice, far, far away. There was the pain of losing him, of saying goodbye, of sitting in that awful tower, listening to his last words, then just radio static, the pain of going to his funeral, watching as they lowed the empty coffin into the ground, walking along the streets accompanied by his thousands of fans and mourners, and finally, the confusion and joy, the whiplash of finding out that he could be a hero again, not just a martyr.

Staring at his face and his peacefully closed eyelids, she waited, suddenly unwilling and unable to look away, her breathing slowing to match his as a sense of calm and acceptance slowly settled over her,

Time faded away, minutes passing rapidly as she watched him, patiently now, anticipating it, but not rushing it.

Then, her prayers were answered, her dreams and hopes becoming a reality as his eyes fluttered open, staring at the ceiling blankly, then, as if sensing her presence, turning his head to see her face. Peggy sat still, not daring to move, focusing on his eyes, which, in turn, gazed at her, filled with amazement.

Her breath let out in a deep sigh, a long-withheld smile spreading across her face, an action that the breathing, alive, awake, present boy from Brooklyn imitated with ease.

“Hello, Darling.” She whispered quietly yet proudly, eyes shining with rapture and love for the young man who had saved the world countless times with his heroics and leadership, who now saved her once more from any possible grief in that moment, who filled her with hope, and inspired her, and kept her going on every bad day, who clearly loved her so much, and who, finally, could squeeze her hand back while the two people grinned ecstatically at each other, filled with an indescribable and endless happiness.


“I’d hate to step on your toes.” Steve recalled suddenly, speaking the thought as it came to him.

“What?” Peggy demanded sharply, jolted from her reverie back to the present. Their eyes met, hers startled and wide, his soft and calm. There was a pause as they stared at each other, caught up in the moment.

“That’s the last thing I remember,” Steve explained, shifting from his position on the hospital bed and gazing at Peggy intently, “telling you that.”

She blinked, taken aback. “Yes- yes, I know. I remember too.”

“That was six weeks ago.” He sounded sure of himself, but nonetheless, he looked to her for confirmation.

Peggy nodded helpfully. “That’s right.” She said, swallowing the sting that came with the memory, and smiling at Steve gently.

“What did I miss? Full story.” He prompted, sitting up a little straighter, desperate to learn anything about the world. Most of what he knew now was warped and blended together in the flurry of chatter and the blabbering of the doctors and nurses attending to Steve. Between the several check-ups he had endured, the hour of questioning, and the large meal that had been forced down his throat, he had been able to gleam any real information.

“The war is over,” she told him , looking down at her hands, “we won. And I’ve attended more funerals than I care to count,” her voice caught, “including Bucky’s. Including yours.”

“I’m sorry.” He uttered instantly, the helplessness written across his face.

“Don’t be,” She said, her voice firm again, “both of you saved so many innocent lives. The funerals were a way for us to honor your sacrifices. We are forever indebted to you.”

“I wish I coulda’ been there for Buck’s…” Steve shook his head, grief palpable on his face.

“You were a bit preoccupied, Steve,” Peggy said gently, resting her hand on his knee, “he would have understood.”

“I know. I know,” he sighed, “I just wish…” He trailed off, putting his face in his hands.

A few minutes passed in silence, Peggy still next to him with her hand on his leg, a small and comforting gesture that left him enough space to grieve for a moment. Then his entire body tensed, and he looked up. “What happened to the Tesseract?” He demanded, his voice incisive, with urgent undertones replacing any previous sorrow.

“Howard amused himself by throwing it around until he was lost, then spent a large amount of time cutting through ice to drop it to the bottom of the ocean. It’s far away enough from the plane, which Howard left buried in eight feet of snow and ice. It’s gone.”

Steve slumped back onto his heap of pillows. “Thank God,” he breathed.

“Howard took your death quite hard. It was crucial to him that you didn’t die in vain.”

“I’ll have to thank him for that, won’t it?”

“He’s right outside, I believe, if he hasn’t been sidetracked by one of those nurses,” she informed him, smiling faintly.

“I owe him my life,” Steve said, “and he protected my sacrifice.” He laughed. “What a man.”

“Never underestimate Howard Stark,” Peggy agreed quietly.


“Visiting hours are now over,” the female nurse chirped, sticking her head through the doorway, blushing when Howard devilishly winked at her.

“Don’t worry, Steve,” Howard said offhandedly, standing up. “We’ll be back first thing tomorrow to pick you up. I was chatting with your doctors outside. You’re pretty healthy for a guy who’s been dead for a month and a half. They just want to keep you for a night then you’re free to go in the morning.”

“First thing?” Steve repeated, his eyes on Peggy.

“First thing,” Peggy nodded.

“Don’t you dare be late.” He said seriously, despite his eyes were alight with humor.

Peggy rolled her eyes, bending down to kiss Steve passionately on the lips, giving in to the long-withstanding urge and making her feelings clearly known to them all. “You really shouldn’t doubt me, Steve.” She murmured, still close to his face. Then, while Steve sat there, stunned, she turned in her heel and stalked out of the room, her chin held high.


“I hope I’m not too late,” Steve muttered to Peggy, his lips almost brushing against her forehead, as they swayed together to the soft tunes of music. The atmosphere in the room was slow and lethargic so late at night, even at the usually bouncing and upbeat Stork Club. The two remained some of the last on the dance floor in the gradually emptying club. They stood out, the tall, extremely muscled man in a nice-looking tux, with his arms around the striking English woman, adorned in a stunning red gown that swept the floor as she moved.

“Only by a year,” she whispered back, but with no malice in her words, “but better now than any later.”

“Good,” Steve smiled, bending down ever-so-slightly to kiss his partner. “Keep your eyes closed,” he instructed her gently when their lips had parted.

“Why?” She breathed, suspicion shooting through her instantly, although she obeyed his wish, feeling him step away from her. Her breathing accelerating as suspense consumed her, her lips twitching up into an inpatient smirk when he simply answered;

“Because.” Then, a moment later: “Open.”

“Please?” She teased.

“Please.” He replied, and Peggy could hear the amusement in his tone.

So she opened her eyes, and saw the one and only Steve Rogers kneeled on the floor in front of her, holding a beautiful silver ring in his hands.

“Peggy,” he began, love in his eyes, and his voice absolutely teeming with it, “my best girl.” Emotion made his voice crack. “You are my right partner.” Nervously, he smiled. “Marry me?”

An helpless, stupidly lovesick grin answered him first. She extended her hand, pulling him up and drawing him close, so that their noses almost touched. “Yes, darling. Of course I will.” She breathed, staring deep into his eyes just a moment before kissing him deeply, the two intertwined on the center of the dance floor, the heroes forgetting all the troubles in the world, and everything else in it, their moment forever cherished in their time.


Building their lives together proved no easy task, two independent people suddenly learning the meaning of codependence, something only made harder by Peggy’s demanding and dangerous job with the SSR, and Steve’s equally trying work and fame as a resurrected war hero.

But still, as the years passed, the two changed and grew together, their bond strengthening with the challenges of the various missions and adventures that came their way. Domestic life and quiet moments were treasured, but the days filled with excitement and adrenaline were always looked forward to. But whatever came their way could be dealt with, so long as the two had each other by their side.

Friends followed a similar path, bringing the couple great joy when Howard announced his engagement (they couldn’t help but to be smug about that), and under a year later, was married.

All seemed well until an innocent-seeming thank-you card arrived in the mail, a lovely thing handwritten by Maria herself (Howard had only cared enough to sign it, Peggy reasonably supposed). Inside the envelope, however, was a picture of Steve and Peggy, taken at the wedding. Steve’s arms were wrapped around her, and he gazed down at her lovingly, though her own focus was caught by something off to the side.

A soft smile graced Peggy’s face as she stared at the photo, studying it and recalling the night. Then, rather abruptly, a realization hit her, and she strode out of the hall and into their living room, snatching a framed photo off the mantle and holding the two side by side, as to compare them.

Peggy stood next to Steve, smiling widely and adorned in a beautiful lace dress, Steve in his military uniform. The day they got married, years ago.

The time showed on her face, now. She could see it in the new photo, a smile line here and there, even how she carried herself, weighed down by so many troubles of the world. She had changed.

But not Steve.

No aging showed on his face, his eyes remained untouched by time, his features preserved perfectly. He wouldn’t change, medically couldn’t grow older, even while she would, while their potential children would. He’d be frozen in time, and she would be lost to it.

“Peg?” A voice behind her asked gently.

“You haven’t changed. At all.” She said strangely, turning to face him. This bothered her, clearly, but she couldn’t pinpoint exactly why. Did she mind getting older? Well, perhaps a little bit, but it certainly wasn’t something to make a fuss over. “Not since the serum, I don’t think.”

“Peggy- I-” He made his way across the room to her, setting down the photos and taking her hands in his. He took a deep breath, playing with her fingers for a moment as he thought, running a finger over her wedding band. “I don’t care how you look, or even how I look.” A small smile crossed his face, tinged with sadness. “So long as we’re together.” Leaning down, he kissed the side of her face. “Is that okay with you?”

Absentmindedly, she nodded, still disturbed but willing to wait for whatever the future held.


“She was shot six times,” the doctor explained patiently, “twice in her right arm, once by her sternum, above her heart, and twice again in her stomach. She’s lost a lot of blood, and we believe there may be damage to her heart and arteries.”

The middle-aged man delivered this news simply, calmly, as if he were sharing the day’s weather or a boring bit of news. As if it didn’t matter. As if it weren’t a potential death sentence for Steve’s wife.

“So what do we do next?” Steve asked, his arms crossed and disposition strong even while his voice was meek, made timid by the destroying news. Next to him, Howard rubbed his forehead, making a small noise, perhaps one of grief.

Now, the doctor hesitated. “Surgery is a very risky option. Her heart is weak, it would very likely give out during any operation. There’s not much we can do.”

“And without surgery?”

“Her chances aren’t good either way. I’m sorry, Mr. Rogers. We can make her comfortable, but her heart will likely fail in a couple of days.” The man ran his fingers through greying hair. “If there’s anything I can do for you, please, let me know.” With that, he exited the room, leaving the two men to face the horrible reality.

“Damn it!” Howard burst, springing up from the worn hospital chair. “This isn’t right,” he seethed, beginning to pace, “I’m sorry, Steve.” He said to his friend, who had buried his face into his hands. “I’m sorry, it was supposed to be a simple job, just a coupla’ thugs with some bad ideas.” He closed his eyes, running his fingers through his hair. “‘cept there were more than a couple… she shouldna’ been alone.”

Steve too, closed his eyes, bowing his head, searching for something to say, anything to reassure Howard, or maybe himself.

But nothing could do that.

He stood up, and walked out.


Her eyes opened slowly, meeting his. “Steve,” she murmured, just barely managing a smile. He reached out, taking her hand and grasping it firmly. “What’s happened?” She asked, wincing as she did so, for even the smallest movement pained her. Moving his chair closer, Steve prepared himself to deliver the awful news.

Pain showed clearly in both of their eyes, physical agony in Peggy’s and an emotional hell erupting in Steve’s, but still he carefully chose his words and began to speak.

“Too many thugs,” he said, trying for a smile, but any expression of joy on his face felt entirely too foreign, and any cheer quickly slid from his face, “or at least that’s what Howard said.”

“So I recall. Those bastards,” she mused, “there are five wounds, I believe?”

“Six,” Steve corrected her gently, and on that word, his voice broke, turning away from his wife, unable to meet her eyes, to face Peggy and her suddenly inevitable fate.

“Steve?” She asked, concern immediately lacing both her tone and features. “What is it?”

“There’s nothing they can do,” he delivered the news bluntly, hating his words but unable to sugarcoat them, “your heart is too weak.”

“I’m going to die?” She inhaled sharply, looking away from Steve. He nodded, squeezing her hand, Peggy’s presence the only thing that could possibly comfort him. The despair and heavy weight began to set in as they sat in silence for several long, torturous moments.

Finally, she turned to him, a smile cracking through her tears. “I do love you.”

“Love you too.” He whispered back.


“Hey!” Howard’s loud voice disturbed the quiet peace of the room, “Uh- sorry,” he focused on something out the window, incapable of eye contact with either of his friends, standing in the doorway awkwardly as he talked. “Steve, listen, I have an idea I need to discuss with you-”

“I’m a little busy right now if you don’t mind.” The captain cut in coolly, not even moving from his chair next to Peggy, or bothering to spare him a glance. Howard shrunk back slightly, but yet he persisted.

“I know, but I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important, would I?”

Steve glowered, his brow pinching together, until Peggy squeezed his hand. “You can leave my side, Steve. I’ll be quite alright.”

He looked between her and Howard before making his decision and standing, joining the genius outside, closing the door with a click.

“So I’ve been thinking- you’ve been shot, right?”


“I’ve got it!” Howard half shouted, sprinting into the room.

Lying helplessly in bed, the dying woman stirred feebly. Sitting in a chair next to her was Steve, who eyed Howard with something like hope beginning to shimmer in his eyes, wondering if their plan had worked.

“An injection,” he continued, “this could save you, Peg!” he told her as she woke fully, gazing dimly at Howard in her dying haze, still clutching Steve’s hand, though her grip was now weak and failing.

“What have you done now?” she uttered faintly.

“A serum replication.” The inventor and scientist said excitedly, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he entered the room, striding in and standing at the foot of her bed. “I’m going to save your life.”

“And you’re sure this’ll work?” Her husband asked, the sanguine energy spreading to him too, though he didn’t dare to attach fully to this hope.

“95% sure. And the doctors are on board too, so we can start as soon as they all arrive.”

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Even in her deteriorating state, the agent commanded their respect and attention in an instant, the two boys twisting around to look at her, suddenly like children caught by their mother doing something naughty.

“Howard used my blood to recreate the serum-” Steve explained calmly, as if this weren’t an illegal crime.

“An improved one, mind you- suited to your femaleness-”

“Project Insight is closed.” Peggy’s voice was disapproving, even with the weakness behind it.

“Well, they can arrest me once it works.” Howard moved closer to her, “Are you ready?”

“We are.” Peggy’s doctor said, leading a group of doctors into the room.

“Is this really rational?” The patient demanded, angrily looking at the men congregated around her.

“Peggy, you’re dying,” Steve said determinedly, “this is the only way.”

“This my life!” She protested, “and none of you even told me-”

“We didn’t want to get your hopes up-”

“You’re going to die without it, Peggy.” Howard reminded her, frowning down at her. “Are you going to die fighting, or just give up?”

Raising her chin, she noticed Steve beside her, his eyes glistening with tears, desperation still clear on his face, though he seemed to be trying to hide it. “Well, if that’s a challenge- to die fighting, that is- then I accept. But if I die-” she spoke to Steve now, “then you move on.” He shook his head, against her words already, “if,” she pressed on, “you get back up, and you keep fighting, you understand? Will you do?”

Tears sliding down his face, Steve leaned over her and kissed her, lingering and soft. “Don’t just mope around,” she instructed him when their lips parted, “you’re more than that.”

“I love you.”

She smiled at him, one last time. Then to Howard, she said:

“Do it.”

So he injected the serum.

Immediately, the effects of the inoculation took place. Her body twitched and seized. A horrible, moaning scream penetrated the room. Steve watched, horrified but unable to look away as his wife convulsed on the bed.

Almost a full minute passed before the fit ended, leaving her body with a sigh of air. Peggy Carter slumped back against the pillows, completely limp as all fight left her.


“We are gathered here today to celebrate the life and accomplishments of Peggy Carter, a remarkable woman who dedicated her life to justice and fighting for what’s right, even when that fight proved not to be easy.

"Even before she became the first female super soldier, Peggy proved she could hold her own, both in the war and after it. It is because of her perseverance and bravery, no matter the circumstances, that we honor her tonight.”

Grinning ear to ear, Steve looked at Peggy sitting next to him. She smiled back, leaning into his shoulder.

“At what point tonight do we dance?” She whispered in his ear.

“Anytime you like,” He promised, and this date, he would keep.


Words: 6K

Warning: smut

Summary: Y/N and her mum move into a new home, which Y/N is dreading. Whilst painting her room she meet’s Calum who died a year ago and is obviously a ghost. You help him reconnect with his old best friends in which he thanks you in the best way a ghost could.


Your mum drove up the long stony pathway, hearing the rocks crackle beneath the tyres. I let out another exaggerated sigh, looking dramatically out the window as a sad song played through my headphones. Me and my mum were once again moving away from our problems. In the past five year’s we’ve moved at least 12 times, from small flats to large houses. It all started when my dad cheated on my mum, I was only 10 and didn’t understand why we were moving from our happy family home to a cramped apartment that was the size of a shoe box. Now at the age of 19 I had gotten used to moving around and not unpacking my things. I had never had a stable job or education either, I tried but it was so hard moving around the place. 

“Cheer up Y/N” Mum said in her silky voice. I rolled my eye’s and focused on the tree leaves, the different colours of orange. I loved autumn it’s always been my favourite as it’s not to hot but it’s not to cold. It’s just right. We had been travelling through this forest for a couple of minutes. Up the long drive, it had gotten a lot darker and the colours of the leaves were a dark brown. I looked in front and there stood a large black castle/house. I furrowed my eye brows as my mum got out the car with her clanging key’s. There was a large gate with a chain holding it together, my mum placed the key in the lock and the chains fell from the gate. She pushed them back and placed a stop underneath them. The house itself was massive, probably bigger then anything we’ve ever had. It was dark and gloomy and could do with a paint job, or some colour. My mum came back into the car and put the key’s down into the cup holder. 

“So what do you think?” she said excitedly. 

“I like it, how long this time? A week? A month? or will we be moving tomorrow?” I mumbled sarcastically. 

Keep reading

“Please, don’t leave.” Old list, for Lams? from @sleep-deprived-system (I think you changed your url since this was sent? I hope you see this! <333)

Guess who finished her last assignment for the semester?! THE ANGST QUEEN!!! So enjoy some classic angst, bbys, and get ready for MANY lil fics! Welcome to summer with the Angst Queen! ;D <333

John Laurens could not believe this was actually happening.

“Alex,” he cried.

John rushed after his boyfriend as the smaller boy darted between rooms in their cramped apartment, tossing random books and papers into his backpack. There was practically steam coming from Alexander’s ears, and John was to blame.

This is all my fault, he thought. He didn’t have time for self-pity, though. Right now he needed to focus on his boyfriend.

“I’m sorry,” John said as Alex passed him in the hallway, backpack now slung over one shoulder. John wanted to make Alex stop and properly wear his backpack; to tell him he needed to take better care of himself, and that included his back. But instead he stayed silent as Alexander turned to face him, his owlish eyes made larger by the chunky black-rimmed glasses he was sporting.

“Wow,” Alexander said, voice flat. “You’re sorry. Amazing.” He turned quickly. His hand was on the doorknob in a flash.

John lunged toward him, throwing his own hand over Alex’s. “Please, don’t leave,” he begged, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes. “Stay and talk this out with me, please, Alex, please.”

Alex faltered for a moment. His face softened, his grip on the knob slackened just a bit. He bit his lip, a nervous habit that followed him from childhood and stayed with him even now, in his third year of college.

“You really hurt me, John,” he said in the saddest voice John had ever heard. Somehow his large eyes grew larger and his voice became softer, something like fear slipping into it.

John winced, but he nodded. “I know, Alex. And I am so, so sorry.”

It’d been stupid, really. John could hardly believe he’d ever thought it’d been worth a blowout fight with his boyfriend, but when he came home to glitter covering the kitchen counter, table, fridge handle, stove, microwave, and of course the coffee bean grinder, he lost his patience. He lost all semblance of patience.

“ALEXANDER!” he bellowed from the kitchen doorway. It was a small apartment. The entire building probably heard him.

Alex poked his head out of their bedroom, glitter in his hair, some even covering his glasses. “Yeah?” he said meekly.

John was so angry that all he could do was gesture to the kitchen then glare at his boyfriend.

“That, oh, right! I was getting to that. It was for a project for my ethics class. I was going to clean it, but then I, uh, got caught up in another Twitter debate.”

“There’s glitter everywhere,” John said. He couldn’t think of a better reply.

“Yeah, I know, I’ll get to it, I swear, just––”

“Just what? Give you a minute? I always give you a minute, Alex, and then another, and another. Remember the flour incident? And the bath bomb explosion? You always say you’ll do it, then you promptly get caught up in a Twitter debate, or an essay, or decide to read the dictionary backwards or some shit and never do what you said you would! I always get stuck with your messes, Alex. Always!”

Alex stared at John, his mouth in a little ‘o,’ the tips of his ears a scarlet red.

“I didn’t realize that all I do is leave messes for you, John,” he said. “Sounds like you’re dating one big mess.”

“Alex, no, I never said––”

Alex sprang into action. He grabbed a rag off his desk and ran into the kitchen. “Let me clean this one up and then be out of your hair, huh? No more messes! No more messy, messy boyfriend!”

“Alex, no, please––”

And it continued as Alex cleaned the kitchen, and then his laptop, which was so covered in glitter some of the keys were unreadable, and finally himself. That was when he began gathering books and throwing them into his backpack. That was when John flung himself at his boyfriend, begged him not to go.

Now they were staring at each other, tense and uncertain silence hanging between them.

“I was literally talking about the mess, I promise,” John said gently. “I had a long day and I took it out on you. I’m so sorry, Alex. Can you ever forgive me?”

Alex looked down at the untied shoelaces of his converses. “I do always leave messes. And add meaning into, uh, literal things.”

“You’d be an awful English major if you didn’t,” John said with a small smile.

“I’m sorry, too. I’ll try to be more, uh, clean?”

Both boys laughed, then laughed harder and harder until they were doubled over. Alex let his backpack drop to the floor, and John swept him off his feet. He leaned down and kissed him. When he pulled away, an odd look came over his face.

“What is it?” Alex asked anxiously.

“Why do I feel like I just swallowed glitter?”

Alex chuckled and pulled John’s face close to his own. “Let’s make your insides sparkle,” he whispered with a wink before his lips were on John’s again.

And sparkle they did.