i don't know what to say i made this a few days ago

Here’s all the things that I’ve been working on. (Have fun scroling.)

1st: The people that I follows A.K.A my senpais:

@nekophy - First and for most, you’re amazing. Your art is beautiful in every piece. Your OCs are cute and adorable. You YOURSELF is amazing a hyperactive. Keep on being a cute little stick cat! Also I want to draw you as a cat and not a stick cat so sorry for that

@angexci - I can’t say how wonderful you are in any way possible. Your traditional are perfect, but your digital art is so awesome! You are amazing, everytime you post something, either a shitpost or an art piece, I love it all. So continue being a cool bird!

@jakei95 - One question, HOW. THE HELL. ARE YOU. SO FREAKING CALM?? Okay, you’re really, AWESOMELY cool. Your characters are cool, cute, awesome at the same time. Your art is TOO COOL, OKAY?? Also, you’re funny, like EXTREMELY FUNNY. Please continue on being a funny and cool potato! :3 I dunno I drew the background galaxy

@gabi4chan-akatsuki - I know your blog is not art related but I like Vocaloid and your Vocatale AU. I ADORE your Vocaloid covers, it sounds amazing. So just keep on tuning!

@wilyart - I know you don’t post much, but you are still amazing. I don’t have much to say aside from that your art are fabulous.

@kyashee-art - I. LOVE. EVERY. PIECE. OF ART. YOU MAKE. THAT’S ALL I COULD SAY. I can’t say anymore than compliment your art. I made this before you changed your mascot so oops.

@trashy-artzy-me - You’re one of the best traditional artist I’ve ever know. Personaly I feel that you’re cool :). Keep on being amazing!

@blogthegreatrouge - I can’t say you’re cool and amazing enough. You’re the first person i followed, the person that I made my blog for, the first person that I actually motivates me to post on Tumblr. Your art are all from the heavens. Except those sin art. So I hope you never give up and continue on!

@renrink - *inhales* YOU ARE SO COOL. Especially your AU, Reapertale is so cool and I’m waiting for your stuff. Your art are so goddamn wonderful, like DAYUM. I once tried to color like you but I failed so bad, I deleted it. :P. Just continue on being a cool dude gal!

@walkingmelonsaaa - I can’t say your art is amazing enough. Your lines, your coloring, your porotions! It’s beatiful! You are an art goddess to me, to everyone who knows you. So keep on making amazing art! I didn’t know what to draw for the background so I tried and it sucks >:(

@zarla-s - To be honest, I know you from Quotev XD, I read your fanfictions and I’m still waiting and I read the comics and I compared it and I’m surprised. Anyways, your art are so cute, espescially the skelebros! I want to say you’re great! Continue on!

@golzy - I know you’re on hiatus but I wanna say that I want feels too :3.I love your art, you’re talented at a young age. I’m cheering for you! I drew you in your Gay Daddy outfit with some fixing—

@camilaart - Through all the things that happened, you pushed through and fly up above! I wish you would never give up! Ever!

Sapphire by @sapphirescarletta123

Rey by @reyindee

@yugogeer12 - You’re from a cool gal to cute bean. AN ADORABLE BEAN!!! Your art are so goddamn cute!! So cute man! Your Epictale AU is great and EPIC! Keep on being a mixure of a cute and EPIC!!

@allesiathehedge

2nd: People that I follows A.K.A my senpais in CHIBI FOOOOOOORM!!! XD:


Sharky by @myebi

@ania-da-peasant - Though those idiotic people send hate, send you ask that lacks inteligence. You still pushed through. You was pushed down before but you stood up and face them. So never lose hope! Stay DETERMINED!

@theodd1sout 

@owlturdcomix

@mudkipful 

@rosannapansino RosannaPansino

Perf by @perfectshadow06

3rd: For some of my followers:

@notch0607 @mkitkat @broken-tale-comic @nekokurisu @locis-didi @lazyartz @xxlisagamerxx @undertalefan1111 @anda-blr @cyberbullybro @saskiakawaiistudio @4jen

4th: My awesome friends!:

@mercury-draws-shitz - You’re great, even though it may not feel like it, it is. You’re the first one that actually made fanart for me :’DD So keep being cool!

@thekawaiichibigirl - You are a great friend, though you’re depression is bad, you’re pushing through!! I was– I mean EVERYONE was very worried, so don’t do that ever again. Those people are still hating but you’re answering them in a bad a$$ way!! Sorry Arty Just keep being who you are!!

@anndreemurr - We talk for like once and some how became friends X’DD So just wanna say that your art are everything! It’s so beautiful! So continue being cute and cool :D

@ithinkiamanartist - You’re the one that I talk to the most XDDD omg okay umm.. *inhales* YOUR COOL. You’re just like a cool big sister to me. Da coolest were cat big sister I’ve ever nyew. Your art is coot and cool just like you! Continue on being coot and cool kay sis? :) 

@armitie - Yay time for my first friend I ever made here :’D You are a little roll of memes and shitpost oh ye– You’re the meme sister and super SUPER weird. Your art is super duper cute!! ((I like slim bodies)) Though we don’t talk much, I still love you with every inch of— So keep on doin’ it!

@elamania - Time for my second friend that I made here! Where you’ve been? Nah just kiddin’ I’m not gonna joke like that. I must say that your coloring are wonderFUR!! Get it ‘cause you’re a cat? Yeah? Okay ._. 

@unlikelykingdomsuit - I know we rarely talk, but I still love your art. You’re real FURtastic! Yeah. Puns. I suck at it. But I still want you to know that care about you. Holy that sounds cheesy

@burntsalmonfishy132005 - HI LITTLE CHICKEN!! The second Vietnamese friend I made. You’re a cute little spammer. Yup - u - b Your art is adorable as heack! So keeo on being a cute little chick! ;D

@mikaru-blackspade - I know you’re banned from any social media but you’re still my first Vietnamese friend. You’re a great artist even if you don’t think you are. I wanna say keep on doin’ it!

@pandurrpink - Though we just became friends like a few weeks ago, you still counts as my dear friend. AND HOLY YOUR COLORING IS EVERYTHING AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! Continue to be an amazing artist Pandurr!

5th: The youtubers that I subscribe:

Aphmau

PopularMMOs

GamingWithJen

DanTDM

LDShadowLady

JaidenAnimations

Domics

StacyPlays

Ha! I can do something better with my birthday than writing and doing this. Only llike 3 or 4 people wish me “Happy Birthday”. This joke is so lame.

anonymous asked:

AU where Bitty and Jack both suddenly wake up, after having had a few years together, and find themselves in their beds on the morning of the day they met. Both remember everything that happened, but neither thinks the other does, so they both pretend not to remember (which only complicates things more). They end up reenacting a lot of their interactions and it kills them both to do things they know hurt the other but they don't want to change anything.

oh no buddy, I’m not gonna let this stay sad. I’m gonna draw attention to several sad things, but then I’m gonna fix it.

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

Bitty wakes up on his first day of freshman year. Again. He quickly decides that he can’t say anything to anyone. There was no way to prove that the life he had just been living was anything but a dream.

He goes through the motions as well as he can remember. If he lingers a little on the handshake when he ‘meets’ Jack again, well, who could notice a thing like that?

Jack wakes up in the Haus. He mirrors Bitty’s mental process, realizing that if he started talking about this he could lose the future he knows is on its way. He searches Bittle’s face for recognition, but is too afraid to say anything.

Jack takes a deep breath every day and snaps at Bittle, pushing every pet name out of his mind. Bitty forces himself to forget and relearn how to take a check. On the rink together for checking practice, neither can think of any way to ask if they’re going through the same thing. They both cry more than they did the first time around.

Sometimes Bitty just gets angry at having to repeat things. He tries as hard as he can to not mess the repetitions up, but he isn’t perfect. When Ransom and Holster start asking him what his type is, he rolls his eyes and replies “Men.” As soon as he’s said it he remembers that he had only said that later to his camera, but the damage doesn’t seem to be too great. Jack doesn’t seem to react to the change, adding to his mental list of evidence that everything else had just been a dream. He gets the list of eligible Winter Screw options a few days earlier, but everything settles back to what it had been within a week. Whenever he starts thinking about the next few years, he’s enraged about everything he’s going to have to sit back and let happen. Everything that was going to make Jack sad, and that he wouldn’t be able to fix. Everything that was going to hurt him that he couldn’t avoid. 

Jack wakes up every day and writes up a game plan. It’s hard to have to turn back years of learning and be worse as a captain, especially when he remembers every mistake he made in every lost game. So he writes down those mistakes as a reminder to himself to make them. Half of the mistakes are emotional, and that’s what really gets him. He’s forced to act like those years of growing as a person never happened, like they were worthless. He hates trying to make himself glare at Bittle when they’re on the same line, he hates telling him that it was a lucky shot, he hates being so close to his boyfriend except for the fact that he isn’t his boyfriend yet.

Then it’s the playoffs. Bitty steels himself all week for the concussion he knows is coming. It crosses his mind to try to avoid it, to spare himself the pain and potential brain damage. But he remembers that it was only after the concussion that Jack started texting him, and they really got close. He knows that if he went against the play he knew Jack was going to suggest, he’d only drive them apart. Besides, it hadn’t been that bad the first time.

Jack is confident he can find another reason to text Bittle over the summer. He’s thought about this for the whole school year. Whatever consequences could come from not seeing Bitty hurt like that would be worth it. He just has to convince the coaches to not put Bitty in at the wrong time. 

“Oh my god, I thought we got over this months ago,” Bitty mutters to himself. He doesn’t remember Jack getting so annoyed about playing with him during this game, but he’s at a point where everything has run together in his mind. 

“Jack, I’ll be fine,” he half-lies. He will, eventually. There’s something close to panic in Jack’s eyes. Weird, Jack had taken so long the first time around to show any tiny sign of weakness.

“Promise me you’ll avoid number three.” This is definitely different from before. Bitty stares at Jack. “Spencer, number three, don’t go near him when he’s on their side of the rink. Promise me, Bits.”

“You didn’t even call me Bitty at this point,” he says in shock. They stare at each other for a minute, eyes wide. 

“I won’t get the concussion this time and we’ll talk about this after the game,” Bitty blurts out. Jack nods vigorously. They play, and it’s brutal, but Bitty avoids the hip check. Once the game is over, they rush to get seats together in the bus. In whispers, they talk about the future they already had. Bitty mourned the years of school he had ahead of him that he had already completed. Jack complained about having to rewalk a long path to the Stanley Cup. They talked about teammates who felt like family but would still know them as strangers. Graduation, the Fourth of July they spent in Madison, their first Christmas together. Every important milestone of their relationship.

“And in this loop or timeline or whatever, we haven’t even kissed!” Bitty whispers, letting his head thunk back against the headrest. “I was at the point where I was out of college, happy with my career, and hiding a ring from you!”

“You weren’t!” Jack says out loud before dropping back into a whisper. “I was doing the same thing.” They both start laughing. It’s the perfect time to have a second first kiss. They lean in towards each other, their lips meet, and–

–They’re back in their apartment. Bitty sits bolt upright in their bed and turns to Jack. For a fleeting second, he thinks about pretending the last several months just didn’t happen. Jack sits up too, and their eyes meet.

“Did that just–”

“Your frog year take two–” They dissolve into relieved laughter.

“I thought I was going to have to take calc again!”

“I thought I was going to have to listen to you complain about calc again,” Jack says before Bitty smacks him with a pillow. “Kidding! Kind of! Wait, weren’t we just saying that we wanted to propose to each other?” He throws himself out of bed and runs to start rummaging through various coat pockets.

“Oh no, you’re not going to propose to me before I can propose to you!” 

Everything is as it should be once more.

anonymous asked:

I don't know why ur actin up for attention. You're okay as a writer, but there are much better ones in the fandom who have far less recognition

You see. It all started when father returned from the war. He had never been an affectionate man, as much as I can recall. But after the war, the small nods and brief glances from him that I had grown to look forward to had disappeared.

He was quick to anger and quicker to drink. Sometimes I’d awaken in the middle of the night to find him standing in the middle of the quiet farm, bathed in moonlight and despondent. His eyes would be fixated on the moon and stars, unblinking.

“Papa,” I’d call to him, “you’re scaring me…”

Of course, he didn’t respond. He never did. Somehow, his silence instilled more fear than his anger. The eerie quiet when I wished so badly to know what he was imagining.

The chores on the farm soon fell on my shoulders, as my mother came down with a chest cold that never seemed to go away. Some days were worse than others for her. I remember running to fetch the doctor in the middle of the night when she couldn’t keep from coughing. Walking through the old wooden thresh hold he greeted my father, who sat unblinking once again in his rocker with the usual bottle of liquor in his calloused hand. The light from the candles flickered, showing glimpses of his eyes which were wide with madness.

Seeing now the state he was in, the doctor simply tipped his cap and tended to my ailing mother. And soon after that, the talk around town began. Not so quiet whispers accompanied by piercing eyes when I made my way into town to fetch mothers tonic or liquor for papa.

My trips became less and less frequent. Not only because I couldn’t handle the gossip, but it seemed papa would do something drastic every time I left. One day I found him in the coop snapping the necks of the chickens inside, feathers flying everywhere as the few remaining tried to escape his grasp.

“Papa! No!” I screamed for him to stop.

He dropped to his knees with shaking hands. It was the first time he had spoken to me in what seemed like years. His voice was more hoarse than I remembered.

“I’m…sorry,” he spoke through tears.

Heavy with the shame of what he had done, he dragged himself off as I took care of the mess and contemplated how we would get our eggs now. I didn’t see papa again until that night. He came stumbling inside near dawn, crashing around our old farm house in his usual drunken stuper and calling for my grandmother, who had passed some time ago.

Why am I seeking attention? Who knows…but reading this message I think back to those chickens and their snapped necks. Who can say why, but perhaps I am jealous of them a bit. For at least, even in a brief moment before their deaths, they felt my fathers touch. Something I never had.

“Much better writers with far less recognition?” I chuckled and inched closer to you.

When the fandom approached me, asking me to hand-choose which followers went to which blogs I was shocked, but proudly took on the task. Just as I had taken on the burden of my families farm, I would also carry out this task to the best of my ability.

I moved my lips closer to your ear, letting them ghost over the skin as my fingers delicately tucked your hair to the side. My warm breath was seeping into your pores as you waited for me to respond.

“I know,” I whispered so softly, “now unfollow me, bitch.”

I Don't Wanna Live Forever [Connor Murphy x Reader]

Title: I Don’t Wanna Live Forever
Pairing: Connor Murphy x Reader
Fandom: Dear Evan Hansen
Requested: no
Summary: Your family takes an annual trip to the mountains with the Murphy family every year to unwind over the winter break–that being said, Connor Murphy isn’t the sweet kid he used to be, and you’d rather be anywhere else than sharing a room with him for two weeks. However, between your parents, a line of accidents, and a mapless trip in the woods seem determined to bring you together–if you can make it out alive.
Warnings: Connor’s potty mouth | Mentions of drugs, abuse, alcohol, panic attacks, sex trafficking, sex, blood, hospitals | First person reader | face paced/vignette style | not proof read | tenses may change
A/N: Here’s that long ass thing I’ve been working on for weeks and just finished a few minutes ago, ayy. Based entirely off the “Connor hated skiing” line. This is long af with no read more option, sorry :/ Here we go! (THANKS FOR 500+ FOLLOWERS ♡♡♡)


Connor Murphy was a lot of things.

He was stubborn–I’d never seen him admit he was wrong, but I’d definitely seen him throw scrabble pieces across the wooden floor of the cabin, leaving Zoe to scramble red-faced to collect them as he stomped up the oak steps to his room, echoing around the house.

He was annoying–I’d told him once I wasn’t crazy about Iron Maiden, which resulted in the album being on blast for the entirety of the time he drove Zoe and I around the mall in the family’s silver minivan.

He was stoic. He was impatient. He was angry.

I’d begged my parents not to go cabins for winter break. I’d begged them to pick a different mountain range if we were so dead set on skiing. But Mr. Murphy and my mother were business associates, and the last thing she wanted to do was make them feel like we were no longer on good terms–especially because of Connor.

“Larry’s been having an awfully hard time with Connor, sweetheart, you have to understand,” my mother crooned in our rental car, fixing her lip liner as she drove, my father keeping a white knuckled grip on the Jesus handle above his head. “He’s not doing very well in school and he’s been throwing tantrums at home. Poor Cynthia is at her wits end. They’re lucky to have that sweet Zoe, she’s so talented and smart. Poor Connor is jealous and acting out, just try not to rally him up, alright, dear?”

I didn’t dignify her with a response, mostly because I knew she wouldn’t like what I had to say anyway, but also because I knew she wouldn’t care to listen, either. I sighed loudly, watching the snow flurry softly outside the window. It wasn’t fair–here I was in the middle of something so remarkably beautiful, and I’d be shoved in a minivan with the Murphy kids and stuck in the valley town’s 1970s mall with crappy t-shirts and a vape store that Connor would spend all day in.

The cabin was huge, up with a view of the town below, nearly three stories made of solid, stripped oak, in the middle of a winding road with a four percent grade. Half the cabin was supported on beams which plummeted down the mountain face. I’d be lucky to stand on the deck without vomiting, let alone being able to venture into the hot tub.

The Murphy’s minivan was already in the drive, trunk shut, meaning they’d unpacked and I’d be left with whatever miniscule space they’d left for me in the loft area.

“Remember to be nice, sweetheart,” my mother crooned again, fluffing her hair in the mirror and giving me an enthusiastic smile in the rearview. “It’s important! They’re practically family.”

Geez, I was lucky to not have Connor Murphy for a cousin.

Slinging my backpack over my arm and exiting the rental car, I took the liberty to stretch, despite the cold air that stung my cheeks and the snow that fluttered down into my hair. This may very well be the last moment of solitude I had for the entirety of the week, and I was going to revel in it.

A movement caught my eye, suddenly, and I lowered myself off my tiptoes to glance up at the second story window–a curtain fluttered shut. It was most likely Zoe or Connor checking out the commotion that was my father and mother bickering over who carried what into the house, and shutting it once they’d realized I caught them. Feeling vaguely uneasy, I turned just as Larry Murphy, bundled in a parka, burst out of the house to take two suitcases from my father.

It was going to be a long two weeks.

——

Cynthia Murphy made me stand by the kitchen counter as she was stocking the cabinet with neon colored cardboard boxes containing various sugary, pink cereals with marshmallows and prizes inside. The Murphy kids were both picky eaters, I remembered quickly, Connor more so than Zoe.

Mrs. Murphy kept playing with my hair, crowing about how much longer it looked (despite the fact I’d cut it since the last time I’d seen her) and how pretty and grown up I’d become, asking me the usually annoying adult questions (“Any thoughts on schools yet? Oh, Connor can’t decide either! Do you know what you’re going to major in? That’s alright, you’ll figure it out soon!”) It would’ve been annoying, I decided, if and only if she didn’t look so sad all the time, the purple bruising under her eyes visible still underneath the layers of makeup. My mother could say whatever she liked about Cynthia Murphy where her wifely duties were concerned–Mrs. Murphy tried to be a good mother (re: tried, period), and that was more than enough to pass her in my book.

In the background, my parents were settling into the second master bedroom, Larry Murphy yelling at the bottom of the stairs to announce our arrival. I could do without the annual reunion, awkward questions about school. The Murphy kids were tolerable–Zoe definitely more so–but it didn’t mean they had to force us together so artificially.

Zoe skimpered down the stairs first, her soft moccasin boots barely making any sound on the stairs–I was surprised to find her long legs bare, her thighs peeking out beneath a pretty pink chiffon dress, covered by what I hoped to be a faux fur parka. Her pretty auburn hair was curled, pulled back with a polka dot headband I could recognize from her childhood. She was wearing eyeliner, and cotton candy flavored lip gloss I remembered sharing when we were thirteen.

It was such a stark contrast from how I remembered her before. The last I’d seen her she’d been gawky and fifteen with a mouth full of metal and a bra full of kleenex. She was practically grown now, and beautiful–it made me feel slightly subpar in my own blue jeans and blue sweater. Regardless, she smiled brightly and skipped over to me, opening her arms to wrap them around my neck.

“It’s so good to see you!” She exclaimed, pressing a quick kiss to my cheek that shocked me, as well as some others–Larry Murphy’s horrified expression was priceless, and I was convinced Connor put her up to it–but I just laughed and hugged her tightly before letting her go.

“You look so pretty,” I told her with a wry grin, and she just tossed the expression back, nodding with a, “So do you!”

“It’s so good to see you girls are still so close,” my mother tittered, beginning to uncork a glass of wine–we didn’t drink much at my house, but the Murphy’s, I knew, did, and my mother certainly wasn’t going to let that go to waste. “Where’s that sweet boy of yours?”

Larry Murphy at the bottom of the stairs, banging on the oak walls, yelling out, “Connor!” was enough to make both the Murphy women flinch visibly. Zoe still had her arm around my waist as we stared up at the ceiling above us, waiting for the squeak of sneakers on the polished wood.

“Don’t yell.”

Zoe jumped away from me as if she’d been burned, pressing herself against the countertop as if to make herself invisible. Mrs. Murphy, her hand clutched to her chest after the initial nose, fought hard to smile believably. I, myself, had jumped at the unexpected sound–Connor Murphy’s curt tenor clear across the room, no where near the stairs, instead standing the doorway were we had just come from. I couldn't  quite make out his frame from here–there was a line of bodies blocking my view, my parents, Mrs. Murphy, and Zoe all formed a human barrier that constructed the divide between Connor and I. Fine by me.

“There you are!” Mrs. Murphy chirped, clearly still nervous, visibly by her shaking voice and hands, fluffing her hair to give her something to do. “You didn’t miss much, Connor, they’ve just arrived.”

My mother said something unintelligent in way of greeting, to which Conner didn’t reply, just shut the door carefully behind him to keep out the cold air. I couldn’t see his face from here, but I could make out that he was much too still for a teenage boy, much too quiet.

“–You remember her, don’t you, Connor?”

My throat closed up as the Red Sea parted, everyone’s heads turning to look between the two of us.

He didn’t move from the doormat–boots  caked in snow, as if he’d gone for a walk, and the bottoms of his skinny jeans were muddy and slick looking. Still, he didn’t shiver, which was slightly unnerving. He was skinnier than I remembered, like he hadn’t been eating, and his face was all angles. He slouched, his pink mouth which was mottled red from the cold was set in a heavy frown. His eyes, which were scanning somewhere around my waist and hadn’t come anywhere near making eye contact since he’d seen me, had blown pupils. Drugs. He was doing drugs in the middle of the afternoon.

He hadn’t cut his hair since I’d seen him last, brown curls poking out of the bottom of a black sock toboggan with a soft pompom on top. It could’ve been funny, I supposed, his rough puberty finishing to leave him left over with this, something akin to a drugged out vogue model who listened to way too much 2008 Fall Out Boy, if he didn’t seem so…unnervingly somber for someone who clearly wasn’t sober. Geez, this kid was a school shooter in the making.

I glanced back up to find him finally staring at my face, shooting an uncomfortable alertness down my spine. His eyebrows were crooked in vague amusement that didn’t seem to reach his mouth, and I felt my face heat up under his scrutiny. If he was trying to intimidate me, it wouldn’t work. I wasn’t scared of boys like him.

“Yeah, I remember her,” he grinned mirthlessly, stuffing his hands into the gut pocket of his hoodie, giving me a nod that, while meant to appease our parents, also felt like a vague threat. I didn’t smile back.

“Great! Wanna show her the room?”

Connor grinned crookedly. “Follow me, kid.”

——

The upstairs layout was just like I remembered  it–Two rooms, one main one in the first entrance with a king bed tucked in the corner, a TV and a few gaming systems with some furniture in the front, a bathroom with two doors which lead through to the other room, which held the fold out couch and television I was accustomed to using.

The Murphy kids already had their belongs strewn about the room–Zoe’s stuff animals and princess blankets eclipsing most of the bed and an ancient Nintendo DS on the table with SpongeBob stickers on the cover that I’m sure belonged to Connor–and it left me very little room to maneuver through.

Connor was silent as he lead me up, as if I didn’t know the way, but surprised me by stopping in front of the king bed, holding out his arms to signal me.

“Your room, my lady.”

I cocked an eyebrow. “This–this is your bed.”

“Not this year. Dad’s decided it’s a little too Flowers In the Attic for Zoe and I to share a bed this year–I’m on the pull out and you girls get to have your fun.” He shot me a bitter smile to let me know he wasn’t thrilled about having the pull-out–he shouldn’t be, the thing was total garbage–but surely he’d enjoy the privacy of it?

“I don’t care to take the pull-out,” I told him, keeping my bag on my shoulder despite the fact it was beginning to be painfully heavy. “If you wanna–”

“Don’t have a choice,” he said, already turning toward the bathroom to walk to his half of the loft. “The bed’s yours.”

——

So, Connor Murphy had turned out to be a total dick. It should’ve unsurprising information, I knew, but part of me still remembered him as a charismatic kid I was, at one point, friends with. Back when the three of us all slept in the king bed, before any of us ever had a zit, when we’d fall asleep in the floor watching early 1990s Pokémon episodes, because Larry Murphy didn’t like them watching it.

Even the Connor I remembered at fourteen, gangly and silent and shy with close-cropped hair felt better than this. I was past uncomfortable, sitting stiffly between he and Zoe on one of the couches in the living room. There was a faux fur blanket hanging behind us, shedding hairs onto Connor’s black jacket, which would’ve been funny if he wasn’t picking at his nails with a slightly rusted pocket knife–I notice he’d painted them, which I oddly admired. I’d kissed a boy earlier this year who painted his nails, and his palms were always soft when he’d reach up to cup my cheeks. It softened Connor in my head, just slightly.

He was careful, I saw, to stay on his side of the couch, leaning into the apex of the arm and the back of the couch rather  than flush with me, his thin legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle to avoid me. I appreciated it, but it didn’t stop me from leaning forward, my elbows on my knees, sitting on the edge of the cushion. I could still feel warmth radiating from him–it was late, and I was tired with a full stomach. If I wasn’t careful, I’d fall right into him, and he’d never let me live that down.

Zoe practically was asleep, leaning forward as well with her head on my shoulder. Cynthia had let her have nearly two glasses of wine at dinner–not enough to get her drunk, but it didn’t change the fact Zoe was still lithe and young, and easily tipsy.

We’d all gone into town for a very awkward dinner–I was just thankful to be placed between my father and Zoe, in a position on the opposite end of the table from Connor, who was stuck in between Larry and Cynthia, looking as if he were in a permanent time out.

Now we were gathered around the coffee table in the cabin, the seven of us hunched over a tiny photo album that I couldn’t really make out from here. There were fuzzy polaroids of us as children, looking nothing like we did now. Connor and I at six, soaked from romping in a sprinkler. Zoe and Connor sharing a chocolate icecream cone, their faces covered in the brown spatter.

“You were all so small,” Mrs. Murphy crowed with a choked voice, covering half her face with her hand in a faux attempt to eclipse the emotion. “Oh, I miss it. You kids used to spend so much time together! Now we only get together for break, and Zoe is so busy there’s hardly enough time for her to spend quality time with her sweet brother.”

Zoe snorted loudly, earning a glare from Mr. Murphy I was positive I wasn’t supposed to see. I snuck a glance at Connor, whose face betrayed no emotion, just staring blankly ahead in the direction of the album. From his position, I was positive he couldn’t see more than the chipped leather cover of the book. Even if he leaned forward, he wouldn’t have been able to see much.

My mother and Mrs. Murphy went out in loud voices in a seamless attempt to pretend the seemingly secret interaction had taken place, so, while the focus was shifted, I turned my attention to Connor.

He didn’t cock an eyebrow this time when he caught me staring, instead just furrowed his eyebrows and looked at me, as if he expected me to speak.

“Can you see?” I asked, nodding my head in the direction of the book.

“I’m fine,” he said immediately–vaguely irritating, I’d admit, but nonetheless understandable. I was sure Cynthia Murphy had spent most of her life making sure Connor was comfortable at all times. Still, this was my olive branch, in an attempt to make this trip a little more tolerable, and Zoe seemed less than likely to console her brother at this point.

“We can change seats, I’m not really looking,” I promised, sitting forward more in my seat to show that I was ready to make the change.

“I’m fi–”

Connor was cut off by a squeal from his mother, who had tossed the book into our laps. It had taken a great deal of squinting, letting my heartbeat slow before I realized she’d been showing us something and not trying to kill some giant bug between us.

The polaroid was grainy, an ivory hue that whitewashed the photo and the years of existence made the picture hard to decipher at first, especially when we were so tired. The time stamp was from the late nineties, glowing yellow in the corner of the frame. I recognized the gilded tub from upstairs that dominated half the bathroom, big enough for three adults easily.

Connor threw to book onto my lap first, like it had scalded him. I should’ve done the same, but it took me a moment. To see, to adjust, to read and understand what was so socially condemning about the photo.

It was Connor, I realized first, small and tanned with bony ribs and chunky fingers and the apples of his cheeks straining against his baby skin. His hair was cropped so short, it looked almost silly. Beside him was me, my hair wild and tangled, curled as if my mother had teased it for dinner. My wide eyes were blazing, much too big for my face, and I was grinning with wet lips at the camera.

We were in the tub, surrounded by big pink bubbles.

We were very, very naked.

It shouldn’t have been a big deal–not really, unless you counted the fact that if this had been printed, our parents would be arrested for child porn. I was mostly covered, sitting beside Connor, my shoulders hunched forward. But Connor was standing, meaning the camera got a very decent view of–

“What the fuck, Mom!” He screaming, standing and ripping the book off my lap. Cynthia’s tittering died immediately, the hands covering her laughed instead covered her horrified face.

This was how it started, I realized.

“It’s not fucking funny,” he growled, tossing the book across the room, banging against the wooden wall with a heavy whomp.  

“That’s enough, Connor,” Larry Murphy growled low in his throat. Cynthia’s head was downcast, her eyes wide and wet. I recognized the emotion immediately–she shut down with conflict the same way Connor did.

“You don’t get to laugh at me for shits and giggles this whole trip,” Connor said, already lunging up the stairs, his hands shaking. “If I wanted to feel shitty, I’d have a conversation with you.”

So much for having a quiet trip.
——
Zoe wasn’t quiet in her gossip about Connor–his door was fashioned shut, I saw, and I doubt he’d come out for the rest of the night. I was positive he could hear his sister’s loud comments from our room.

“Sorry, he’s such an ass,” Zoe groaned, stretching on the bed, her little lilac nightgown shifting across her thighs. “I think his high is wearing off or something–don’t let it bug you. You don’t have to be nice to him, by the way. I’m not gonna let him hurt you.”

I shrugged, noncommittal. “We were friends once. I’m not gonna be mean, he’s never done anything to me.”

Zoe snorted. “You didn’t just see that? He’s a monster, and it gets worse.”

“He just has a temper. Everyone gets like that sometimes.”

I wasn’t sure why I was defending Connor–half because I didn’t want Zoe to tell Connor I disliked him, then he’d actively terrorize me–half because I had no idea why Connor Murphy was so pissed off. It was just a picture. Yeah, embarrassing, I’ll admit I wasn’t too thrilled about eighteen year old Connor Murphy seeing my nipples, and I’ll admit he definitely had the worst end of the stick.

“He loses his shit like that all the time,” Zoe said. “It’s not just a temper.”

“He’s your brother, Zoe,” I reminded gently, brushing out my hair in the bathroom mirror. “Can’t you give him the benefit of the doubt?”

“He’s no brother of mine,” she whispered, rolling over on the bed and clicking off the light.

——

The next few days passed as the usually did–the adults going places without us, albeit romantic and boring, and leaving the three of us to wander about the town below the mountain crests. It was Zoe’s turn to pick the day’s activity, and she’d chosen the mall.

The place was all dark oak, and hadn’t been remodeled since the late seventies at the earliest. Zoe was chipper, balancing a bag of organic soap and bath bombs on her lap that she’d bought at a local shop, pouring over the cheese fries between us on a plastic red tray.

Connor had also been well-behaved since his outburst several days ago, albeit quiet. He’d separated from us the second we’d arrived, holed out in some record store. Zoe was thrilled to be rid of him, and very vocal about it. I was bored out of my mind.

“Don’t look now,” Zoe said brightly, despite her face suddenly shifting into a mask of disinterest. She bit down on her lip, covered in a pink glitter lipgloss she’d applied much too liberally, and pulled on her pretty auburn braid. “There’s some boys two tables behind us checking you out.”

I felt my face get hot. “You’re lying.”

“Nuh-uh,” Zoe said, leaning into take a sip of her milkshake, biting down on the straw–the look on her face told me she’d got their attention.

“How old are they?” I hissed. The last thing we needed were some creeps following us around the mall–this was how sex trafficking started. Surely Zoe knew that this was a huge red flag.

It was clear from her overzealous wave she didn’t.

I felt a hand on the back of my chair before I saw them–to Zoe’s credit, they were pretty. Both in thick denim blue jeans, both in letterman jackets over white tee-shirts. One was tall, skinny, with pretty dark skin and hair cropped close to his head. The other was a little thicker, pale and short, in badly need from a shave. They were smiling brightly at the two of us in a way that was less awestruck and more closely resembled a triumphant conquest.

“Hello, ladies,” the shorter man greeted, grinning like a shark between Zoe and I. His hair was dark, curling around his temples–handsome, maybe my age, maybe ten years older. It was impossible to tell. There were lines around his eyes that either indicated he smiled too much or was simply older. “What are two cute girls like you doing inside on a day like this–the ski lift is just a walk down the road.”

“We’re here shopping with our brother,” I said immediately, giving a grin. The taller boy quirked his eyebrows at me–his eyes, I noticed, were dark with tawny flecks hidden in them.

“That’s cool,” he said to me, switching places so that the other boy could be closer to Zoe. They both pulled chairs up to our table, facing us. My stomach pinched uncomfortably. “Where’s he at?”

“Nike,” I lied, seeing the sign from the distance and knowing very well that Hot Topic, while probably true, didn’t exactly invoke fear.

“Ah,” he said with a grin, his eyes glancing down at my bare arm with a grin. With two slim fingers, he reached forward to pluck at my woven bracelet Zoe had made me a few nights ago, my name in block letter strung across the twine. His hands were uncomfortably hot, and I drew my arm back into my lap. “Aren’t you cold?” He nodded to my bare arms. I’d left my flannel with Connor, who was sitting on a bench at the time–I hoped he remembered to grab it. I was just wearing a striped cotton tee right now, and my arm had broken out in a case of goosebumps, though I wasn’t sure it was from the cold.

“I’m fine,” I said, careful not to meet his gaze. He was pretty, and if I wasn’t careful, I might end up going somewhere with this guy.

“You know,” he began, and I could hear his grin turn predatory. “You’re very pretty.”

A jolt shot down my spine–I wasn’t pretty, not really, which terrified me. I could hear what the other boy was whispering to Zoe, but I could tell that all the stars were gone from her eyes. She looked pale, panicked. These weren’t the kind of boys we needed to hanging around with.

“I know,” I said quickly. “We really need to call our brother–”

“I think he can wait long enough for me to get your number, right?”

Across the table Zoe laughed, too loudly, pushing back and standing from her chair. She was grinning at the dark haired boy, beckoning her to follow with a jerk of her chin.

“Zoe–”

“We’re gonna run to get some coffee, okay? Connor should be back soon, don’t wait up.”

She didn’t meet my heavy glare for long, and didn’t turn around when I yelled her name. I watched in silent horror as the boy put his hand flush with her lower back.

I was alone.

The panic crept onto the back of my neck long before his thin fingers did. He smelled like cinnamon, strongly, like he’d done one too many sprays with his cologne that morning. When I turned to face him, his tawny eyes were asking.

“Is this the part where you say you’ve got a boyfriend?” He grinned, his teeth blindingly bright in his tan face. He was so close I could see the threads on the collar of his letterman jacket–it looked soft.

There was a possibility, I realized, that they weren’t dangerous. That I was just being paranoid–Zoe wasn’t stupid, and she wouldn’t go off with a strange boy unless she was sure it was safe. Still, they were definitely in college.

And boy, were they pretty.

“I do have a boyfriend, actually,” I said, lifting my chin to meet his gaze so he wouldn’t think I was lying. There was a small voice in the back of my head, screaming, raised on her tip toes that I should just take this plunge–let him hold my hand or kiss him or whatever he wanted to do, because this was a shitty trip and I deserved to be as reckless as the Murphy kids were allowed. I didn’t see a reason why I shouldn’t.

Besides, you know, the obvious.

He quirked an eyebrow. “You have a boyfriend?” He asked, biting back a smirk. I felt the voice in the back of my head get sucker punched by my ego. So, he didn’t think I was pretty after all. Which meant he was dangerous.

Which meant Zoe was in trouble.

“Yes,” I growled, standing, yelping a bit when his hand snaked up to grab at my wrist, nearly breaking my bracelet and keeping me bent over the table.

“Let go,” I hissed–the food court was nearly deserted, and the family in the corner was carefully avoiding my eyes. I wasn’t sure I had the voice to scream.

“I don’t believe you have a boyfriend.”

“Let go, or I’ll scream,” I warned, yanking on my arm. He let go immediately, holding his hand high above his head, which I knew was meant as a gesture of calm, but instead looked an awful lot like he intended to strike me.

“Where’s your boyfriend, then?” He taunted loudly, thrilled to see no one in the court coming to my aid. I felt sick, the panic rising in my chest. Where was Zoe? She was in trouble. I was in trouble. I was going to have to scream–

“He’s right here.”

My arm flailed, immediately cocking back in an attempt to elbow in the stomach whoever had wrapped their arm around my neck, their other spidery hand snaking just slightly under the hem of my t-shirt to splay across my hip, finger tips barely brushing my skin above my jeans. The arms were strong, vice like, pressing me against a hard body, and suddenly I felt limp, panic leaving me as I realized whose familiar smell I was enveloped in.

Hair grazed across my cheekbone, and I could make out the dark locks if I looked out the corner of my eye, and I nearly yelped when I felt lips press chastely against my temple.

I couldn’t make out much of the boy anymore, my eyes level with Connor’s adams apple from where he was pressing me against him.

“Babe,” Connor said cooly, calmly, making my knees knock against his. “Who’s this?”

“H-he’s leaving,” I managed to stutter out, barely a whisper, my voice hoarse. I sounded terrified. No wonder this ass in the letterman jacket hadn’t be intimated by me, I sounded about as frightening as a kitten. Connor pressed his fingers against the nape of my neck, tilting my head against his jugular so that I couldn’t see anything but the pale column of his throat and his dark hair. It was getting difficult to breathe–I felt sick. He moved his hand to wrap around my waist, yanking me tightly to him.

“You heard her,” Connor said, again stoic–half of me wished I could see his face, but the other half knew it would be terrifying. Connor’s temper was legendary and destructive–to see him so angry wouldn’t make the fist in my gut unclench. “Go. Take your friend with you.”

There was a beat of silence. Then two. I couldn’t hear much but my own shaky breathing, warm and wet against Connor’s neck, his hair making the space much too hot. I wasn’t aware I had knotted my fingers into his shirt until he started walking, dragging my stumbling form forward with him. He was going fast, too fast for me to keep up, and my chest could only rise so far before deflating painfully.

“You gotta breathe,” he grunted, one of his arms still around me. His face felt hot against me.

“Z-zoe!” I choked out, realizing I had no idea where she was. She could still be with that boy, be in danger–

“Oh, Christ,” he exclaimed bitterly, letting go and beginning to trudge forward. I was terrified briefly, suddenly overwhelmed with the fact I didn’t know where I was. There was a Game Stop, and a Victoria’s secret, the neon lighting combined with the screaming toddlers and the kissing teens and Connor was leaving

An arm swept up from behind me, leading me just as quickly, mumbling something I couldn’t make out into my ear.

“Zoe!” I grinned, immediately feeling safer, feeling my fear melt away just smidgen in my gut.

“I’m so so sorry I left,” she sobbed. “I went looking for a cop, but I found Connor first and I told him you were in trouble–”

“It’s fine,” I said immediately, surprised that my voice was no longer wet. “Thanks, Zoe.”

I was calm, or, at least calmer by the time we reached the van. Connor was waiting by the passenger side door, which was opened, leaning against a scratch in the silver paint. He wasn’t looking at us, instead appearing to observe the silver snowflakes as they fell.

My reflection in the side mirror revealed my face was red and blotchy, not just from the cold wind. I felt gross–guilty for the fact I hadn’t been able to defend myself and Zoe, guilty for the fact Connor Murphy was the one who had to come to my rescue, and guilty for the fact I’d cried all over him. His zipped up hoodie seemed to have escaped the mess, but that didn’t mean I didn’t feel awful. 

He stepped out of the way when I made it close, gesturing for me to get in the passenger side door while glaring at the ground. I was only vaguely surprised, and followed along immediately. Zoe and I almost always rode together in the back. I let Connor shut the door, ignoring the disgusted look Zoe gave as she got into the back.

Connor hoisted himself into the driver’s seat, surprising me with a costume change, reappearing in only a forest green tee. He held out his hoodie to me, balled up in one of his fists without looking at me, before just tossing it into my lap.

“I–”

“I left your flannel in the back. Put that on or you’ll freeze.”

He licked his lips, staring coldly out the front window, before starting the car. I swallowed. Yeah, he definitely hated me.

“Okay.”

——

“You’re sure you’re alright, honey?” My mother asked for the third time. Her hair was tied up, her pink bathrobe covering little of her cleavage and bare legs. She was cradling a wine bottle in her hands, looking at me in faux concern.

I gave her a soft smile. “I’m fine,” I lied. I’d calmed considerately. Connor and Zoe had both agreed I needed to shower to wash off the panicked look on my face–I’d asked them to keep the days happenings a secret. They’d reluctantly agreed.

She gave me a clipped smile. “Maybe you should go to bed early, yeah? That’s what I plan to do.”

I nodded, scratching at my bare leg. I’d taken advantage of Zoe’s absense and changed into boxer shorts and an oversized tee with a kitten on the front–she and Cynthia had headed into town for the night, spending the night at a spa and would be gone for a few days, and my father had taken his annual ‘me time’ and booked a hotel downtown to do his own thing. I think Mr. Murphy went with him, but regardless, he was out of the house. It was just me and my mother.

And Connor. I tried not to think about it. I planned on offering him the big bed tonight, in way of thanking him for today, but we hadn’t spoken much since the incident and I felt…odd. Unsure how to thank him. Unsure why he helped.

I supposed the Murphy men were just gentlemen, even under all that teen angst.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I’m probably gonna sit out on the balcony and then head to bed.”

She grinned. “Don’t stay out too late, it’s almost down to single digits, dear.”

I just nodded, sliding off the countertop, and slinking upstairs. I was surprised to see Connor sitting on the bed. I grinned.

He looked different, to say the least. He was still without his jacket, wearing only his tee and jeans, and little pair of socks with stars on them, which did seem a little out of character, but I assumed Cynthia bought them. His head perked when he saw me, simply craning his neck, keeping his shoulders bowed forward over his body.

He looked small, I realized. He didn’t look like a boy who punched holes in walls or scared off very big very scary men in shopping mall food courts. He looked like a vogue model with a little too much innocence.

He gave me a grin with no teeth, and it didn’t quite meet his eyes, but I gave him a sheepish smile back.

“Hey,” I greeted, tugging on my top to cover my shorts a little better–Connor Murphy didn’t have any interest in seeing my thighs. Despite all the panic, I’d been playing over and over in my head the comment the boy in the mall had made, incredulous that I had a boyfriend. It was silly to let it sting me, considering he probably wanted to stuff me in a van, but it crippled me nonetheless.

“Hey,” he greeted back, not rising from the bed.  I waited for him to speak again, and when he said nothing, I continued.

“I, uh, meant to say, since Zoe’s gone, you can have the big bed like good old times.”

He frowned. “I don’t need the bed.”

“I don’t either,” I promised, leaning against the banister. “Plus,” I sighed, scratching at the back of my head. “I’m not entirely sure how to thank you for today. I’d probably be selling for a low ball price on the dark web right now, if it wasn’t for you. So, thanks.”

Connor was still frowning. “You’ve had a really rough day. You should take the bed.”

“No,” I insisted, beginning to get frustrated. “I’m really okay, I promise. I can’t give you anything else, take the bed.”

His dark eyebrows knit together quickly, licking his lips again nervously. “I don’t–”

“Plus,” I cut him off again with a curt laugh. “I owe you for your Oscar performance. That was crazy, you know. I can’t believe you fooled him into thinking a guy like you would be with a girl like me.”

His head snapped up. “A guy like me?” He reiterated coldly. I felt my face grow hot.

“You know,” I said quietly.

“Know what?”

“That you’re cool,” I muttered. “And nice looking. And I’m not.”

I was thankful for the warm lighting in the room, concealing my red face. It was already dark out, the blinds drawn tightly. Connor’s fists clenched in the white lace comforter on the bed. I didn’t want him to feel bad for me, and I sort of regretted saying it. Connor had already seen me blubbering today and he didn’t need my shitty teen angst to deal with.

He bit down on his lower lip, staring coldly at the ground before murmuring, “I need a shower. Take the bed.”

I shook my head. “I’m gonna go for a walk.”

He just nodded, rising from the bed. “Don’t get too far. It’s cold out.”

Connor shut the bathroom door behind him, and I was left feeling like a total idiot. I could hear the shower running before I left, snagging Connor’s grey jacket from my bed post and sliding it on. I went down the stairs, sliding out the first door to the outside, stepping out onto the first floor balcony. I made a mental note to the shut the blinds later, before walking around to the front of the cabin.

I should’ve been thrilled to be alive, I realized, snorting at how melodramatic that sounded. Still, as I burrowed deeper into Connor’s jacket, watching my thighs turn red from the cold, I realized that I was shrouded in a veil of melancholy I wouldn’t be able to shake off.

I missed Connor. I missed being his friend. I missed him coming over for play dates when we were kids, gauzy fairy wings strapped to our backs, jumping on a trampoline when Zoe was still to young to participate. I missed writing him letters, like a pen pal, despite the fact he only lived on the opposite side of town. Going to different schools hadn’t deterred us, for a while, at least. We had sleepovers every birthday, and Zoe told the best scary stories. I remembered hiding under Connor’s bed with him, a hand clasped over my mouth so Zoe wouldn’t hear our breathing.

I remembered kissing him when we were in kindergarten, ridiculously late at night, a quick smack on the lips during a game of pretend. I’d kissed Zoe, too, when we were probably much too old for it, but thinking of Connor tugged on my chest.

It stopped as we turned twelve, I realized. I never saw him–he was still playing little league, and I stopped coming to his games to pick dandelions with Zoe. He was beginning to get teased. My parents insisted the slumber parties should stop, we were too old. Every time Connor and I were together at birthdays or Christmas parties, adults would joke about when we’d fall in love, how soon would it be before we got married. We avoided each other like the plague, unless we knew we could be alone. And we were never alone.

Connor hid inside himself. Zoe made fun of him at parties, loudly. I kept quiet.

He stopped calling during the summer months. He never rode his bike by my house. The only time I saw Connor Murphy was the annual ski trip.

I missed him. He’d been a childhood friend, and I’d let him go without a second thought to save myself some shred of dignity, like it wouldn’t be ripped away from me regardless.

Connor Murphy was nothing to be ashamed of.

And now it was too late to be his friend.

It had started to snow again, so I wiped my face and rose, walking the opposite way I had come, skirting the stairs–they led to the upstairs, but only to Connor’s room, and I didn’t plan to barge in uninvited, especially if he was still in the shower, two rooms blocked me from getting to the king bed, so I’d have to walk all the way around the house.

The lights were out, I saw, but again no one had bothered to close the blinds. The television might have been on, a dim blue glow resounding onto the leather couch–

I froze.

As it turned out, my mother hadn’t gone to bed. The television was on, showing some late show with some old white man making cracks about some politician I didn’t care for, casting the blue haze onto the coffee table, revealing the wine bottle my mother had been cradling. Two empty glasses sat on the table–my mother’s bathrobe crinkled on the floor.

I was disgusted in a comedic way, just for a moment, to see my mother in her nightgown kissing my father, who my brain had filled in under the assumption he’d arrived back.

I’d begun backing up to the stairs, Connor Murphy’s naked body be damned, when I realized my father’s car had never pulled up, and I’d been on the front porch the whole time.

A better look in the window revealed a man a little older, a little more gray and a little more handsome than my father.

I was sprinting by the time Larry Murphy had begun to peel his shirt off his back.

I didn’t knock by the time I’d made it to Connor’s room, just threw open the door, struggling to get my breathing under control. I stumbled to the pull out couch, dragging the sheets up around my freezing legs. I was in shock, I knew, and I needed to calm down before Connor came in–the bathroom door was shut, but I couldn’t hear the shower anymore, despite the steady trickle of steam coming through the cracks. I was trapped in this room until Connor came out.

My mother was cheating on my father Larry Murphy. Larry Murphy was cheating on his wife with my mother. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t believe it, I had to have made it up, this had to be a dream–

“What are you doing in here?”

It was an exclamation, alarmed, grasping a towel tight with thin white knuckles.

Connor. Connor in a towel. Connor wet with slick hair and chest hair and navel and hip bones. Connor Murphy, son of Larry Murphy, who had his tongue down my mom’s throat–

“Hey, breathe, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

By the time my eyes snapped back into focus, Connor was struggling to pull on grey basketball shorts without dropping his towel, and I dropped my gaze back to my shaking hands, almost startlingly red from the temperature change and what was most likely shock. I was hyperventilating, struggling to smother the sobs. I knew this deep in the house, they probably wouldn’t hear me–they were most definitely preoccupied anyway. 

The bed dipped, and Connor’s bare side brushed my thigh. I didn’t mean to jerk back, but I did, clinging to the arm of the couch and staring horrified–Connor looked almost hurt, but mostly panicked. I tried to calm down, for his sake.

“S-sorry!” I sobbed. “Sorry! I-I-I didn’t mean–I didn’t mean–I didn’t–I–”

“Hey, stop, breathe. You gotta breathe. Go slow, okay? Stop tryna talk,” he commanded, holding up his hands to show he wasn’t gonna hurt me, readjusting so that he sat up on his knees, leaning  over me to take my hands, rubbing them between his own despite the claminess.

I avoided his eyes, focusing instead on the dip of his collar bone, surprised to see thin lines of chest hair, wet and plastered to his chest. He was skinny, and I could see his ribs despite the tiny stomach roll from where he folded in the middle. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles across the backs of my hands, and for a moment, I didn’t think. I could’ve forgotten everything and fallen asleep right here with him.

He pulled my hands against his chest, cradling mine in his own, pulling me forward, asking with his slate eyes if it was alright.

I pretended we were friends.

“You wanna talk about that?” He asked very softly, looking down at where our hands were clasped against him–he was warm, his skin pink and hot from the shower. He’d combed his hair back out of his face, and it was almost cute like that. “If it’s about today, I promise you’re safe, alright? I wasn’t gonna let that guy hurt you.”

My heart sunk in my chest, nearly restarting my panic attack. I shook my head.

Connor deserved to know.

I was scared, briefly, that it would set him off. He might yell at me, throw things, kick me out of the room. He might hit me.

I didn’t care. He had a right to know.

I swallowed thickly, shaking my head. “N-no.”

“Did something happen on your walk? Are you okay?”

I shook my head.

“What? Trouble back home–your boyfriend break up with you or something?”

“My mom–” I started, voice breaking, feeling fresh tears of shock on my cheeks.

His eyebrows furrowed, tightening his grip on my hands. “Is she okay? She–”

I saw it in slow motion–his jaw unclenched, eyebrows relaxing from their set, pouted mouth turning down. It was calm. It was knowing.

“You saw them,” he said very softly, letting my hands fall back into his lap. I was too shocked to move them away from his thighs.

“You knew,” I spat–an accusation. I hadn’t meant to make it one.

Connor scrubbed at his eyes roughly, flopping onto his back against the bed. Frustrated.

“I was tired of my dad reading my fucking emails, so I hacked into his–I only saw a few. I didn’t want to see anymore.”

I paled, feeling nauseous. “So it’s happened before?” I choked.

He swallowed. “That was two summers ago.”

“Fuck,” I hissed uncharacteristically, surprised to find Connor stretching out an arm to me. I took his hand with a firm grip. “How long before then.”

He shrugged. “Maybe our whole lives. Maybe before. I’m not sure, angel.”

I nodded, secretly pleased that he was so calm. It kept me level, grounded, watching where our hands were linked.

“What do we do?” I choked. “I have to tell my dad. He deserves to know.”

Connor’s eyebrows furrowed. “Everything would change. He’d tell my mom.”

I bit down on my lip, folding down onto my back to lay down beside Connor. “I hadn’t considered that.”

Connor sighed, scratching at my hand tenderly with his black painted nails. “I’m not sure that my mom and Zoe could handle the news–it’s not like they’d turn to me. They’d be alone. Zoe might even take my dad’s side.”

I groaned, stealing my hands to scrub at my eyes. My wet hair was beginning to dry in a tangled mess.

“This is too much,” I mumbled, rolling onto my side to face Connor, staring at his bare, freckled shoulder. “I don’t know what to do. If I can do anything.”

I jumped a foot out of my skin when he placed a hand at the corner of my jaw, brushing the tangled hair back out of my face. “You don’t have to think about it right now. You’ve had a really long fucking day. You should sleep.”

I didn’t want to sleep–I didn’t want Connor to leave. I didn’t know how to say that.

I couldn’t believe that everyone had tried to desperately to convince me Connor Murphy was a bad boy–fuck them, Connor Murphy was good. He was better than everyone in this cabin combined.

He cared about me.

I caught his wrist, which froze in my grasp, but I just took his bony hand and cradled it between my hands the same way he’d done mine, tracing the lines across his palm. He sucked  in a sharp breath.

“Okay,” I said, and he smiled, moving away. I let go of his hand.

“I just have to turn off the light. Get comfy.”

His retreating footsteps filled my stomach with dread, but nevertheless I unzipped his jacket and draped it on top of the blanket so that it would at least keep my feet warm. Pulling the pillow tight behind my head, I was pleased to find it sort of smelled like Connor’s shampoo as the light clicked off. It left me feeling a little more safe. Ironic, I realized. I was in the middle of a wilderness, I’d almost been abducted, my mother was downstairs ruining our family, and all I could find myself to be worried about was if Connor would be okay.

The bed dipped behind me, shocking me into stillness, surprising me even more when someone lifted the sheet and slid in behind me, a bony hand resting on my hip.

“This okay?” He asked, and I dared to open my eyes to meet his. They were unsure, nervous. He was scared I’d reject him. I nodded, scooting closer.

“It really will be okay, you know,” he assured. “Whatever you choose, I’m gonna be with you.”

“You’re amazing,” I said without thinking, but being entirely sincere. Even in the dark, I saw his eyes go wide and his cheeks tinge a deep magenta in his pale face.

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” I assured with a laugh, reaching across the divide to poke at his side, slightly surprised to still find him shirtless. He’d withdrawn his hand almost immediately, keeping respectfully to his side of the bed. “I’d be dead without you. And you’ve supported me this whole way.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched, freeing one of his arms to pick at the wrinkled sheets between us. “I just, fuck, I knew you’d hear some shit, but I was hoping you’d be able to come out here and we could start over again, like before? Zoe started her smear campaign almost immediately. I just, fuck, nevermind.”

I watched him withdraw, turning over with his back to me, the pale plains of his back bared to me.

“Con,” I said very softly. “I don’t care what they say–fuck them,” I laughed, watching Connor’s shoulders shake. “I think you’re good, Connor, and I miss being your friend.”

I watched with bated breath as his back rose and fell with his steady breath in the cold room, his skin radiating heat. I shifted closer, crossing the divide between us. He didn’t respond.

I didn’t sleep.

——

I was alerted late in the day by a noise–it was daylight, I noted, the clock on the bedside table reading it was almost noon. I was groggy, still in the state between sleep and consciousness. The room was shrouded in a bright grey hue from the winter wonderland outside–it had snowed a significant amount, apparently, and the white fluff stuck hopelessly to the window.

At the foot of the bed, Connor was on his knees, pulling a navy sweater over his head. It was tight, with a stretched collar and holes at the hem, but he looked good in it. His hair was frizzed at the temples, and his eyes were wide when we saw me.

“You’re awake.”

I just nodded, a little embarrassed. Part of me hoped Connor would just let last night drop, and we could continue our indifference toward each other, but most of me felt as if we had an unfinished conversation to attend to.

“Is anyone back yet?” I asked, surprised as Connor came to sit in front of me, legs crossed kindergarten style. He shook his head.

“No, actually. No one came back from their trip, and the lovebirds have miraculously vanished for a ski day. It’s just me and you.”

“Oh.”

Connor seemed unsure for a moment, brushing his hands off on his pants. “I’m sorry, um, about last night? I should’ve asked first if it was okay to sleep next to you, I just–I know you said you missed being friends, so I thought–”

“It was nice,” I cut him off with a smile that was nearly all false bravado. “Warm. I really do miss hanging out with you.”

He pursed his lips in way of a smile. “Me too. Miss having friends, period, but you’re kinda great, so–I’ll shut up.”

Stretching, I groaned with the sensation and smiled widely at him. “We can be friends again, don’t you think?” I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. When my vision cleared, he was sitting by my feet, eyes downcast.

“It’s kinda lame, isn’t it?” He asked, sending ice down my spine.

“What, I’m not cool enough for you?” I teased half heartedly, despite feeling slightly sick. If Connor left now, I’d be marooned on this island I’d made for myself, and it wasn’t ideal knowing I no longer had any allies.

“No! That’s not what I–no, fuck, I just meant. Don’t you like Zoe better?”

I shook my head. “I like Zoe–but I liked you first.”

“Yeah, I liked the Teletubbies first, doesn’t mean I prefer them to Death Cab for Cutie.”

I snorted. “Okay, I like you best. You’re both really similar, you know, but you’re kinder.”

He shot me a glare, which I supposed I’d earned. “Liar.”

“Can’t lie,” I protested. “And I like you better. Get used to it.”

He swallowed, shifting on the bed and looking at me again as if grappling to say something. His eyebrows were pinched in the middle, making him look slightly worried, small. I watched the way his mouth bowed as he opened and closed it, my eyes tracing over his soft lips.

He was pretty, I realized, in a way I wouldn’t have considered before.

“What about when you leave?” He asked softly, scratching his arm absently.

I frowned. “What about it?”

“We won’t see each other again.”

I smiled. “Connor, you just live on the other side of town. I do own a car.”

He frowned. “You’d come to see me?”

“If you wanted me to,” I answered honestly. “Or we could go do stuff. It doesn’t make me any difference–whatever you want, I’m game for.”

His eyebrows took a sharp hike into his hairline. “Whatever I want, huh?”

My stomach clenched nervously–decidedly a good kind of nervous. I didn’t realize it till he placed his hand on my ankle, grinning up at me with crooked teeth and pretty eyes, that I might’ve begun to develop a small crush on him.

Which wasn’t okay.

——

“This is such bullshit.”

I cackled as Connor continued to strap on his snow boots, repeatedly tripping and losing his balance in the snow.

“C'mon, it’s fun!” I protested, pulling my sock toboggan down tighter over my ears, trudging another few slow steps through the slush. Connor was frustrated, I could tell, seeing his pink nose and ears, his breaths coming out in angry puffs of smoke.

“No,” he grunted, dragging himself up the trail a few more steps. “Video games are fun. Cartoons are fun. Cheap Internet porn is fun. Dragging my frozen ass up a mountain covered in snow for ten miles is not my idea of fun, dude.”

“It’s not ten miles,” I protested, taking a seat on a mostly clean looking rock, patting the seat beside me in condolence to Connor, giving him a much needed break. He’d agreed to go outside with me at least once to take a hike, since the Murphy kids never ever wanted to do anything that didn’t involve fried food or touristy tie dye t-shirts. We’d been going for a few hours now, and the last bench had easily been miles ago. I wanted to see where the trail ended.

Part of me was scared he’d only agreed because he thought I would break. I’d surprised myself with how calm I’d been after, well, what a nightmare this trip had been. I supposed I’d be worse once my dad got back–but he wasn’t yet, so I was content to have my last moments with Connor.

“We’ve been out here for hours, man, don’t you think we should head back before it gets dark?” He whined, leaning forward on his elbows and rubbed his hands together–he had on mittens, which was probably the cutest thing I’d ever seen. Say what you want about Connor Murphy, his aesthetic was absolutely demolished once you put him in a fire engine red puffer coat.

I sighed, glancing wistfully up the trail. I’d like to finish, but Connor was right–it was getting dark, too dangerous out for us to be out here alone. He’d humored me enough for today.

Time to go back and face reality.

I just nodded, stuffing my hands in my pockets and rising from the rock, giving a decent stretch before moving forward back down the path, Connor scurrying along beside me.

“Thanks for coming,” I said again, nudging him with my shoulder. He stumbled gracefully, grinning with a subdued force that warmed me a little, before checking me back with his shoulder.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he warned, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “But it wasn’t totally awful.”

I snorted. “I won’t let anyone know Connor Murphy can feel fun.”

Biting back a smile, he nudged me again. “God, please don’t. Then they might bring me back here and I’ll have to spend another two weeks with you.”

“I’m sure I’m just killing you inside,” I teased. “How dare your parents give you unfiltered access to a teenage girl.”

“Who never wears pants around the house,” he added sagely.

“And sleeps in your bed!” I choked with laughter, the bird walking along the snow path in front of us clearing the way. “God, I can’t believe I did that. I’m sorry, I was probably awful. Did I snore?”

His mouth twisted, as if trying to look indifferent but instead just failed at smothering a smile, both corners of his lips turning in a different direction.

“Not awful,” he offered, earning an embarrassed groan from me. “No! It’s cute, like a kid, I promise. You kicked the shit out of me, though.”

“You’re kidding me,” I groaned. “I’m so so sorry! I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Might be some bruises,” he grinned, to my further mortification. “Hey, nah, I’m kidding. Any damage will heal. It’s kinda funny.”

I cocked an eyebrow from where I was hiding my face behind my gloves. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, don’t sweat it,” he said, reaching out to take my wrist, pulling one of my hands away from my face. He didn’t realize it, just held it, swinging stiffly between us as we walked. He held his breath for a moment before continuing, “I would’ve let you know if I didn’t like it.”

“Kinky,” I said upon reflex, earning a lazy kick to my ankle.

“You’re hilarious. I just meant you’re warm, maybe the bruises are worth it.”

I felt my face get hot, words forming in my belly, escaping before I could choke them back. “Yeah? Maybe I’ll kiss them better tonight, if Zoe isn’t back.”

He let go of my wrist like I’d burned him.

“Sor–”

“Don’t,” he said quietly, stuffing his hands in his pockets, beginning to walk quickly ahead of me.

“What?” I screeched, frustrated.

“Don’t fake flirt with me. It’s not funny,” he spat, continuing walking too fast on his ridiculously long legs.

“Who said it was fake?” I grumbled. “I’m not making fun of you, Connor.”

There was a beat of silence, pulling at my heart with sharp claws, the dull ache starting in my chest and spreading. I’d messed up everything.

“It’s getting dark,” he growled. “And we don’t have a flashlight. Try and keep up.”

——

The panic set in at twilight.

We were running.

He was holding my hand again, dragging me roughly down the mountain, hoping desperately to see some kind of light pollution as the sun set, but there was nothing.

“We should see lights by now,” I told him. “We can see the lights from our cabin, we should see the lights now.”

“We went down the wrong side of the mountain,” he gasped, already out of breathe. I knew his lungs weren’t the best, and we’d been running for awhile now.

“There has to be something at the bottom,” I whispered hopelessly.

“There is,” he growled. “It’s called a gorge, then you climb the other mountain, and there’s the next state. Fuck, how did we get so turned around?”

“Doesn’t matter, Con,” I said hopelessly. “It’s gonna be dark soon.”

His dark eyes widened. “You aren’t sincerely suggesting we try to find shelter. In the middle of a national park.”

“I’ve got a flare gun and a flint,” I told him. “But we have to get back up out of the trees.”

“You want us to climb the mountain again?” He hissed, holding both my hands now. “Are you positive you don’t have signal?”

I nodded. “I’m really sorry, Connor.”

“Don’t be sorry. Start walking.”

——

It was an accident.

It was dark.

I had an analog watch, letting me know it was nearly nine pm. We’d found shelter just as it had started to snow–the  ground here was wet, quickly freezing into ice, and we kept slipping up on the trail. I’d set off the flare an hour ago, and, so far, nothing. The snow had begun to pick up, and we’d found a alcove between two adjacent rocks–not big, about the size of a walk in closet, but enough space for us, our bags, and a pile of wood that refused to light. It kept the snow and wind off of us, and the alcove was high enough I felt safe, with a small mouth that made me feel as if at any instant we could be trapped.

It was an accident.

“The fire won’t light,” I said again, hopelessly, watching my now bloody fingers go numb from trying desperately to get the flint to do its job. I couldn’t feel them without my gloves on.

Connor, huddled in a corner, viciously rubbed his arms in an attempt to get warm. I knew the  temperature would only drop from here. If someone hadn’t seen the flare….

“There’s no dry wood. I checked.”

“Nothing?”

“No, okay? Nothing. That’s it.”

I knew he was right–and searching now would only prove to be counter productive and dangerous. I moved our bags and the pile of firewood to the entrance, sealing us in.

“It’s gonna be pitch black soon,” I warned, watching Connor tap angrily at his phone. “You should probably save your battery. I don’t have a flashlight.”

He snorted. “You’ll bring sleeping bags and a flint, but not a flashlight?”

“It’s the emergency bag! I didn’t pack it, Connor. Make fun of it all you want, but it’s keeping us alive!”

There was a beat of silence, before he clicked his phone off, leaving us in darkness. “M sorry.”

I dragged out the single sleeping bag, stretching it out to him. “Don’t be sorry.” I felt guilty–it was my fault we were in this mess to begin with. “Wanna granola bar?”

“Save it,” he said in a clipped tone, unsure what to make of it since we were veiled in darkness. “We might need it later.” Then, softer: “What’s the plan?”

I heard him stand, and walk across the slick ice of the alcove, coming to stand beside me, his hand at my elbow.

“Well,” I said very slowly, feeling my throat get thick. “Survive the night, stay awake, and once dawn hits we head back to the other side of the mountain, if no one comes.”

“If no one comes,” he echoed, voice oddly hollow. I choked.

“It, erm, is very possible they think we just wandered off, you know? We’re teenagers,” I reminded gently. I left out the part the police would be less than willing to look–Connor had a history of running away after a bad binge.

“Fuck,” he growled.

It was an accident. It was quick, in the dark, we couldn’t see.

He reached our for me, his open palm colliding with the back of my head, yanking me tightly again his chest, my nose buried in his nylon puffer coat. I felt his other hand, too forcefully, at the small of my back, and I nearly screamed, terrified this was an episode I couldn’t control–

“We’re gonna make it outta here,” he breathed against my ear, his breath warm and humid against my freezing ears. It set off a light bulb in my brain. “We’re gonna go back home and–fucking shit, I’m gonna be a goddamn good friend to you and we’re gonna–fuck,” he hissed, his clipped voice breaking off. “I’m gonna take care of you, I’m not going anywhere.”

I let myself break open, collapsing against him, openly sobbing with regret. He stiffened, but just tightened his arms around me despite our bulky clothes.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “This is all my fault.”

“It is not,” he hissed, shaking me a little. “We had no way of knowing this would happen. The trail looked safe.”

I just nodded, knowing that arguing would tire me out. I felt the lethargy begin to creep in my bones–Connor was warm, and it was late, and we were tired. Falling asleep meant dying.

“Get out the sleeping bag,” he said, extracting himself from me, and I heard his hands scrape along the hard rock looking for the entrance. “And I’ll look for some more blankets in the bag, see if we can’t insulate–fuck!

“What is it?” I screeched, turning, grabbing his hand to only find that my own was suddenly wet, almost sticky, and Connor pulled away with a howl. I smelled the metallic sting before I realized.

“Something cut my hand!”

“Stay away from the wall,” I warned. “Take your undershirt off, I’ll rip it up.” I felt around desperately for Connor’s phone, immediately illuminating our little cave with a blinding blue light.

The amount of blood smeared across the wall was nauseating. There was a sharp spot Connor must’ve grabbed too quickly.

He was crying, trying desperately to unzip his coat with one hand, the other dripping onto the floor.

“Fuck, I hope something doesn’t smell that,” I whispered, laying down the light and running to help him get undressed, careful of the open cut across his palm.

“I knew I was gonna get naked tonight,” he said with an unsure laugh, “I just didn’t realize it would be like this.”

My face flushed. “What, you thought I’d suck you off because we’re about to die?”

He shivered, accentuated by me ripping his white shirt down the front, exposing his blue, goosebumped skin.

“Fuck,” he hissed, and I was unsure if it was from the cold, the pain, or my foul language.

“Hope this is clean,” I muttered, wrapping a strip of his white shirt across his palm in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. It was a good way to get an infection, but I wasn’t sure what else to do.

“I didn’t–I wouldn’t ask you to–”

“I’m not sucking you off!”

“Fuck, I just meant–hypothermia, skin to skin, I saw it in a movie–”

The phone light clicked off. I sighed, tying off the cotton bandage.

“You wanna get naked in the sleeping bag,” I finished.

“I don’t want to!” He howled. “And not naked–just, enough to stay alive, shit. It’s gonna be negative ten out here soon, I just wanna stay alive.”

“We should hurry,” I said, surprising myself by reaching out to urge him to rub at his bare chest, earning a gasp from him. “You’re gonna freeze soon. Get your pants off.”

I handed him the sleeping bag, my breath catching as I heard his belt clink to the floor, trying very hard not to think about the implications of this. How far did he expect me to undress? And, if we did get in here, it would be ridiculously tight, we might fall asleep–

“Hurry up, this bag is an icicle with one person.”

Straightening out my bra and panties (even if we were going to die, Connor Murphy did not get to cop a feel) I felt my way to the sleeping bag.

My hand on his chest, he guided my legs one at time–one by his side, one between his knees–and gently folded me down against him, uncomfortably tight as his shaking fingers zipped the sleeping bag up.

He was breathing hard against my temple, and I immediately began to sweat–between the nylon bag and the fact I felt all of Connor Murphy pressed against my chest and stomach–it was nerve wracking.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he reminded in a hoarse voice, shaking a little. I couldn’t quite figure out where his hands were.

“Don’t get a boner,” I begged, earning a beat of silence before:

“I, uh, am–I’m really trying not to,” he groaned, and I could feel how hot his face was against my temple.

“If it helps,” I said, slightly disgusted. “You can imagine our parents kissing. That really kills my fire.”

“Ew,” he said. “Please don’t.”

I grinned. “What? You don’t want me to be your hot step sister?”

Stop it,” he begged, making me laugh, pressing my face against the soft cushion of his hair, nosing at the column of his throat. He groaned a little, and I felt his fingers twitch beside my hips.

“I can’t believe their secret is going to die with us,” I sighed. “No one is ever going to know.”

“I can’t believe you’re lying on top of me in your spiderman panties, but that’s also happening, so you’d better believe it,” he sighed, hands twitching again.

“You can touch me, you know,” I breathed, a little embarrassed against his ear. “We’re gonna die anyway, might as well die comfy.”

“We won’t die,” he promised, his hands clasping over the small of my back regardless.  “Hey,” he crooned, in a soft voice I hadn’t heard before. Encouraging. “Remember sharing a sleeping bag when we were kids?”

I laughed half heartedly, remembering fully. “The thing was always full of pixie stick wrappers.”

“It was an addiction, and I have quit,” he said sagely, earning another laugh from me. I almost joked about the pot, but part of me knew it wasn’t a funny joke. It didn’t have anything to do with him. He sighed, one finger trailing up my spine. “God, I was so in love with you.”

I froze against him, my body a live wire. His hand pulled back.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said tha–”

“Were you really?” I asked. I felt him smile, before leaning in to kiss my cheek, slowly, his dry lips lingering.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know,” he groaned. “Zoe had me convinced you were just humoring me because you knew I’d do anything for you.”

I pulled up, as far as I could (which wasn’t much) squinting to make out his face in the dark. “That wasn’t true. You were my best friend.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I know. God, that time when you kissed me….I’m so sorry we stopped talking. I don’t think I’m ever gonna forgive myself for that.”

“Connor,” I said very softly, reaching up to tangle my hands lightly in his hair. “If we’re gonna die…can I just….”

He surged up before I could, the nylon around us snapping taunt, squeaking in protest. Up on his elbows, his bony hands found their purchase on my bare hips, and I felt the wetness through one of the bandages–his hand was still bleeding, the idiot.

His lips were dry, and he kissed much too roughly for someone who wasn’t holding my head in place, our teeth clinking together in a way that I knew was an accident, sending my skull ringing. His eyes were squeezed shut in the darkness.

I can’t believe it took us to the brink of death for him to admit this.

God, he’s an idiot.

I reached up, pulling at his hair, holding his head to mine, his tongue licking roughly up into my mouth before breaking away–

“Boner,” he warned in a squeak, earning a loud laugh from me, collapsing against his chest.

“Not even in death, Murphy, am I sucking you off on a first or last date,” I giggled against his neck, giving him a chaste kiss there, listening to him groan. His hips canted a little, scaring me, before taking a deep breath to calm himself.

“First date, huh?” I felt him grin, followed by a yawn.

“Stay awake, Connor,” I urged, smacking him hard. “Or I’m gonna twist your nipple.”

“Kinky,” he sighed lethargically. Shit, he was gonna sleep.

“Connor–”

“Promise me this,” he sighed, nuzzling lightly against the side of my face. “If we survive the night by some miracle, and we don’t freeze to death or get eaten by bears or bleed out–you wanna kiss me again? With more clothes on? As my girlfriend?”

I leaned into his touch, tilting my head up to give him access to suck a hickey into my neck, groaning.

“Murphy, if we live, I will suck you off.”

That was the last thing I remembered.

——-

Three days later, it’s still cold. I’m not wearing much–a blue gown with shitty pink flowers, it’s made of some kind of plasticy cotton material. There’s blood under my fingernails and bruises on my neck that are almost embarrassing when I remembered how I got them. My clothes were gone.

Connor was gone.

My mother and father were leaning over my bed, the Murphy's  (minus Cynthia) are behind them. No Connor.

They explained it slowly, eyes wide. They found Connor and I nearly frozen, unconscious. Connor lost a lot of blood, they said, and he wasn’t do so well but he’d woken up several days before me.

He wouldn’t eat until they let him see me.

I’d nearly ripped out my IV to get to him.

He was wearing the same shitty hospital gown, his hair pulled back. He’s got hickies I don’t remember giving him across his collarbone that are ridiculously visible. There were purple bruises under his eyes, like he hadn’t been sleeping.

“They said you were still too sick to get out of bed,” he grinned, opening his arm, and I immediately stumbled over to the thin mattress, pressing myself tightly against him. His hand is thickly wrapped in cotton, a few tubes full of a yellow brown liquid in them. He was combing my hair–which I’m sure was a rats nest–out with his free hand.

“They said the same about you.”

“We’re really lucky, you know,” I said softly, tapping at his chest. “I almost lost you.”

“Almost lost you,” he choked out, pulling away to scan my face, before grinning. “Which would’ve sucked, because you’re my only friend right now.”

“Friend?” I said, trying hard not to sound disappointed. I supposed I shouldn’t have been–what we’d done in the heat of a moment hadn’t meant anything then. It had been a lie for my humor.

It wasn’t fair.

Connor’s eyebrows furrowed. “You, um–do you wanna be my girlfriend?”

I frowned. “I mean, only if you want me to.”

He grinned, the smile splitting across his face. “It’ll suck–your parents will hate me.”

“Right now, I kind of hate my parents, so.”

“I do a lot of pot.”

“We can do something else instead,” I grinned, nudging him, having the nerve to blush.

He licked his lips, looking down at where he’d intertwined our hands. “You–you can’t fix me, you know? I’m still gonna be, you know.”

I nodded, bring his hand up to kiss across the bloody knuckles of his good hand. “I know. I promised I’d be your girlfriend, though. A promise is a promise.”

He grinned. “I’m glad you say that–because you did promise something else.”

I shook my head, rising from the bed. “The kiss is for when we have clothes on, remember.”

“I wasn’t talking about that kiss.”

Connor Murphy!

Aubrey tells Beca about Chloe's toner:
  • [BECA is walking out of an elevator and makes her way down the hallway. Her phone begins ringing and she frowns at the caller I.D. before answering]
  • BECA: Aubrey?
  • AUBREY: Hi Beca. How's L.A.?
  • BECA: Um yeah...good...thanks...?
  • *pause*
  • BECA: So...this is a surprise. I mean, you don't often call me. In fact, you've NEVER called me. Ever. And it's, what *pulls phone from ear to quickly check the time*...3am where you are? Is everything ok?
  • AUBREY: *sighs* No, not really. I called about Chloe.
  • [BECA gets to her hotel room and stops, unlocking the door]
  • BECA: Why, has something happened to her? Is she okay?
  • [BECA steps into her hotel room, closing the door behind her]
  • AUBREY: No, Beca, she's not.
  • [BECA freezes]
  • BECA: Oh my god. What happened?!
  • AUBREY: You did.
  • BECA: What?
  • AUBREY: You happened. Chloe was perfectly fine until you happened.
  • [BECA swallows loudly as she walks over to her hotel bed and sits on the end of it heavily]
  • AUBREY: I've known Chloe for ten years. I'd never seen her look at anyone else the way she looked at you. The way she STILL looks at you.
  • BECA: I don't-
  • AUBREY: *sighs* -Beca, I know you and I haven't always seen eye-to-eye. But there IS one thing that's important to both of us and that's Chloe's happiness, right?
  • BECA: Um...yeah.
  • AUBREY: So why is it since you left I've been having to take care of a mopey Chloe?
  • BECA: Um...
  • AUBREY: She barely eats, barely talks, NEVER laughs...
  • BECA: Aubrey, I-
  • AUBREY: ...it's been three days and you've barely texted her!
  • BECA: Woah Aubrey, I asked her if she was alright with me going and she said yes!
  • AUBREY: Oh WAKE UP Beca!! She never wanted you to leave but she told you you should because she wanted to support you!
  • *pause as AUBREY catches her breath*
  • AUBREY: *sighs* Beca, I promised Chloe I wouldn't tell you this but I can't bear to see her unhappy anymore so...
  • *BECA strains her ears, desperate to know what AUBREY will say*
  • AUBREY: ...Chloe broke up with Chicago before you left.
  • BECA: What? Why didn't she say anything?!
  • AUBREY: Because she believed that this LA thing was your big break. She didn't want to risk telling you and for you to decide not to go and miss out on your dream.
  • BECA: Oh...
  • AUBREY: I just thought you should know because *sighs* Beca I'm not an idiot. I've seen the way you've looked at her during this tour. When she's been with Chicago? That's not the look you give your friend when you dislike the guy she's seeing. BELIEVE me I know, I never liked Chicago either. But not because I was jealous of him.
  • [BECA brings a hand to her face and pinches the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes as she tries to process what has just been said]
  • AUBREY: Beca this is your life. I'm not going to tell you what to do or how to live it. Just...remember what's important okay?
  • [AUBREY hangs up and BECA places her phone on the bed, looking down at her feet.]
  • ---------------
  • [14 hours later. AUBREY is in her hotel room gathering final strands of her hair to place in an already established 'up-do'. There is a rumble of thunder and heavy rain sounding from outside the window. AUBREY hears a fast knock on the door. She opens the door to see BECA stood on the other side, soaked from the rain, clearly cold, gasping to catch her breath.]
  • AUBREY: Beca wha-
  • BECA: -Where's Chloe?
  • AUBREY: She's gone down to the dressing rooms alrea- hey, wait!
  • [BECA has already begun running off and AUBREY watches as BECA dashes down the hall and through a door that leads to the stairwell.]
  • ---------------
  • [CHLOE stands in front of a long mirror in the dressing room that is situated at the side of the stage where they will be performing their final show of the tour, smoothing down the front of her black dress with her left hand, then glances at her phone in her right. She sighs as she sees she has no message from BECA.
  • FAT AMY clears her throat beside her and CHLOE furrows her brow, looking to her right at FAT AMY and CYNTHIA-ROSE. She sees them nod to the mirror, their eyebrows raised expectantly, presumably to make her look in it's reflection.
  • CHLOE looks back at the mirror and sees in it's reflection BECA stood in the doorway, soaked and breathless. CHLOE turns on the spot and is clearly speechless.]
  • CYNTHIA-ROSE: Um...me and Fat Amy have somewhere we need to be.
  • FAT AMY: We do?
  • [FAT AMY sees CYNTHIA-ROSE's facial expression and clocks on]
  • FAT AMY: Oh RIGHT. Yeah. Let's...go to that place...that we have to go to.
  • [FAT AMY and CYNTHIA-ROSE make their way out of the dressing room, grinning at BECA who gives them both an awkward polite smile before they close the door behind them.
  • BECA begins to slowly walk towards CHLOE who is clearly nervous and surprised.]
  • BECA: So...you broke up with Chicago?
  • CHLOE: Uh...yeah...who-?
  • BECA: Aubrey called me.
  • CHLOE: I told her not to say anythi-
  • BECA: I know. But I'm pleased that she did.
  • [BECA pauses a couple of yards from CHLOE, not bothered that she is still soaked from head to toe.]
  • CHLOE: Your job-?
  • BECA: -Doesn't matter. None of it matters. LA. My dream. None of it. Not really.
  • [BECA slowly takes a few steps forward so she is now mere inches from CHLOE]
  • BECA: But you...
  • [BECA and CHLOE hold eye contact, but it isn't weird. They have looked at each other this intensely before. In that shower cubical at Barden six years ago when they sang 'Titanium' together.]
  • BECA: ...Chloe you matter. You REALLY matter to me.
  • [Tears appear in CHLOE's eyes]
  • BECA: On the flight over here I realised I could live my life just fine without ever becoming a Music Producer. But my life wouldn't be worth living if I didn't have you in it. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner-
  • [BECA's sentence is interrupted as CHLOE brings her hands to BECA's face and pulls her into a deep kiss. BECA immediately wraps her arms around CHLOE's waist pulling her tighter to her. Their faces rock gently from side to side as they intensify the kiss, inhaling deeply. Before long CHLOE opens her mouth wider, inviting BECA's tongue into her mouth which takes CHLOE by surprise and elicits a small squeak from the redhead when BECA begins rolling her tongue with hers. They mutually, reluctantly, break the kiss, grinning. CHLOE bites her bottom lip. BECA keeps her hands in CHLOE's hips.]
  • CHLOE: I...don't know what to say.
  • BECA: Have I mastered the impossible and made the great Chloe Beale speechless?
  • [CHLOE lets out a small giggle then her face turns serious as her blue eyes inspect BECA's face nervously.]
  • CHLOE: I don't want to say how I'm feeling in case I freak you out.
  • BECA: Chloe...?
  • [BECA smiles softly, leans her face closer to CHLOE's face, and keeps CHLOE's eye contact with her own eyes.]
  • BECA: *whispers* I love you.
  • [A smile spreads on CHLOE's face as she takes a deep breath]
  • CHLOE: *whispers* I love you too.
  • [BECA and CHLOE kiss again, this time gently.]
  • FAT AMY: *outside the closed door* Can we come in yet?
  • [BECA and CHLOE part their lips, holding each other's hands as they lean their foreheads against each other. BECA closes her eyes clearly frustrated with FAT AMY's timing.]
  • FAT AMY: *outside the closed door* It's just...Aubrey's out here and really wants us to finish getting ready - OW!!
  • [BECA and CHLOE pull their faces apart. CHLOE giggles quietly as BECA rolls her eyes at FAT AMY getting into trouble with AUBREY.]
  • FAT AMY: Okay FINE, Aubrey says take as long as you need - OW!!
  • *pause*
  • FAT AMY: Look, can we just come in before I get battered again? - OW!! Aubrey what now?!
  • [BECA looks to CHLOE apologetically and CHLOE gives her a wink with a sweet smile. BECA quickly leans back to CHLOE and places a brief kiss on her lips before turning her head to the door of the dressing room.]
  • BECA: Alright Amy, you can come in.
  • [The door of the dressing room swings open and FAT AMY, AUBREY, and CYNTHIA-ROSE stand in the doorway with expectant looks on their faces, the rest of THE BELLA's stood behind them with similar expressions. They all squeal in excitement at the sight of BECA and CHLOE grinning whilst holding hands and everyone outside the door tumble into the dressing room to congratulate BECA and CHLOE.]
12x22: Dean Winchester is going to die

Well, when I was new, I wrote a whole post about this, about how early episodes but especially 12x11 foreshadowed that Performing!Dean was going to be deconstructed by the end of the season… Fans self.

The death of Performing!Dean in this episode was BEAUTIFUL. It was EXQUISITE. I couldn’t have asked for MORE! 

I literally grabbed and punched @amwritingmeta in the leg I don't know how many times as I paused it to point and shout.

1. The Grenade Launcher

So, the grenade launcher = performing!Dean metaphor. We had hoped and boy did they deliver! Did anyone else notice, while Dean was *ahem* knocking down the seemingly unpenetrable physical walls, that, maybe it was my weird link, but it seemed to me that the flashing ‘red’ lights in the MoL bunker were decidedly pinky-purpley in colour rather than standard alarm bells red and the flashlights glowed on the blue side of white… (the MoL HQ lights are also brightly pinky-purple to keep the theme going, I mean honestly what self respecting 1950s MoL guy chose this for the bunker instead of the usual red? Please!) Just saying. 

Originally posted by ohh-bloodyhell

“It wasn’t long ago I thought we had it made. We had Cas back, we had mom back. I mean it wasn’t perfect but still…”.  This is it. Dean’s facade has been coming down all season, but at this point now, he just doesn’t see the point in holding it up anymore.

And what does Sam do? HE OPENS UP TO DEAN. He tells Dean how he feels, the reasons why he followed the MoL - that it was “easier than leading”, that he made a mistake. This enables Dean to be truthful himself, in the end, now. Again, they have had many times to reflect on their own deaths but this is another time similar to 11x23 where he can really reflect on what he has lost, and now what is that? Cas and Mary.

Dean uses the grenade launcher, that he’s been dying to do since forever, blows down the impenetrable seeming wall, saves the day. How meta do we need to go? It’s BLATANT. The choice in the colour of the lights, the dialogue, his feelings… the walls are Dean’s facade and the grenade launcher is his way of breaking it down. YES. This has been building all season and much prior to this other meta writers have said that he grenade launcher is associated with Dean’s hidden side, his bisexuality, Destiel etc… this is meta gold, THIS is a meta aspect Dabb was talking about. Toni even then parallels the tearing down of Mary’s mental wall with Dean’s physical use of the grenade launcher, just moments after. It is so well put together :D

Also, I have long believed that the bunker had to go. It represents too much the MoL side of things and the whole ‘living below ground’ thing is way too underground / metaphorically bad. For me they need a real, healthy home which is in between Bobby’s hunter house and the MoL bunker. Hopefully they will find a nice modern MoL home with kit but that isn’t so hidden above ground somewhere next season to take over and make their own :D

2. Sam the MoL leader

“Real hunting isn’t just about killing, it’s about doing whats right… I want you to follow me”. We have wanted this for Sam all season, the MoL story fits his personal arc so well (so did Eileen, still bitter), this is Sam’s endgame. Sam said just moments earlier that he didn’t want to lead, but now he is, because it is necessary and because he is good at it. I believe he will now see that this is what he wants and will work towards this for his endgame.

This then leads to…

3. Dean and Sam - ending the brodependency and Dean as Sam’s parent

Dean lets Sam go, the dialogue is amazing. “You’re ready for this… you got this” paralleled with an actual mom/daughter conversation between Jody and Alex. 

Originally posted by bridget-malfoy-stilinski-hale

Dean literally talks to Sam like a parent letting their child go off to college and I had to pause this for a long long moment to process and scream “they’re actually going there!” not even knowing what was coming next… man…

Then comes the Mary / Dean scene.

4. Dean and Mary

This was always going to be what Mary led to for Dean’s arc. After Amara had started this addressing of Dean’s facade in season 11 and Mary is basically an extension of Amara this season re: Dean (in the same way that she still has to influence Sam’s arc re: Lucifer, that is for next season). I LOVED how BLATANT and textual they made this, the actual lack of subtext because it was all in the ACTUAL TEXT! 

Firstly, Dean considers letting Toni go, which I had expected, to show the difference between our boys (morality) and the MoL as monsters.

Then… “Dad was just a shell…I had to be a father and a mother to keep him safe, and that wasnt fair, and I couldnt do it, and you wanna know what that was like? They killed the girl that he loved, he got possessed by Lucifer, they tortured him in hell and he lost his soul…But I forgive you, for everything.” MY HEART!

Ok, yeah, they did the thing, they brought Jess up 30 mins before killing the guy that Dean loves after not mentioning her for…. A DECADE? And paralleling one of the few scenes we ever saw her in with Dean/Cas too? After we already had the parallel with Dean seeing Cas when driving along, same as Sam did? So, only the scene of Sam and Jess in the bar and the scene where Dean actually meets her haven’t been paralleled now with Dean/Cas? I’M LIVING!

But seriously. The rest is exactly what we, the audience needed to understand Dean and to show casual viewers Dean’s inner angst in order to understand the facade coming down, this is exactly what Dean needed. He has come full circle, this is the start of the culmination of the end of Performing!Dean (which Jensen has no said at Jibcon will be furthered in season 13!).

Dean actually TELLS Mary in his mind that he hates her, but that he loves her. That he had to be Sam’s mother and father, and that it wasn’t FAIR. This is so important, that he didnt just say that it happend and that it sucked, but that it wasn’t FAIR and that he did not DESERVE IT.

This is Dean addressing not just his mother but how HE feels about it, how he feels about HIMSELF, that he is saying that he DESERVES MORE and has SELF WORTH. 

These are all the words I have been using since 12x01 re: Dean . I’m so happy!

5. Ketch kills Toni, Mary kills Ketch after Dean beats him to a pulp, PERFECT, Jody kills Hess, again perfect.

This had to happen to keep our boys on the ‘don’t kill humans unless they HAVE to’ side, especially after Dean considered letting Toni go. Thank you.

6. Winchester family reunion 

Sam’s forgiveness of Mary, Dean’s reaction to the happy family hug (it’s great but someone is missing…). “Who we are… we kick ass. We save the world” 

Originally posted by fangirlingtodeath513

SAM AND DEAN ARE ACCEPTING THEMSELVES THIS SEASON. In 12x09 Sam said it, now Dean says it. After all the angst this episode and for Dean all season…

This whole episode was for me the culmination of the deconstruction of Performing!Dean this season, which has been the main theme carried through on the character - driven side of things, it was beautiful.

In many ways I view this as the character - led season finale and 12x23 as the plot - led season finale (which I will post my thoughts on right up next).

I cannot WAIT to see the result of this episode come across next season. 

We have not only now Performing!Dean pretty much dead or on his way out, the Dean Winchester is going to die metaphor was fully used and was fantastic, but coupled with Cas being brutally taken away from Dean, the parallels with 2 key canon romantic couples (Sam/Jess and Cain/Colette) in this within SECONDS of each other, plus the Jibcon revelations that we will see more of Dean’s reaction to this in season 13, apparently crying (and Jared not even hiding Destiel jokes now) make me pretty much 100% convinced Destiel is really endgame now.

Aside from this we now have Dean accepting himself, his internal self acceptance arc coming to a close, Sam’s MoL arc coming up and I will touch on the other aspects of the story for Sam in the next post as they are relevant to Lucifer / Jack, and Cas’s arc too…

Season 13 is already set up for exactly the endgame I am wishing for!

Tink’s Endgame Wishlist :

- Mol! Sam (and Eileen, Chuck I’m still bitter about that though, I really hoped her death would turn out to be a misdirection). Pretty much CHECK.

- Hunter / Mol collaboration with Sam and Dean as leaders. Pretty much CHECK.

- End of the brodependency, Dean acknowledging he was Sam’s parent and letting him go. CHECK.

- End of Performing!Dean. Pretty much CHECK.

- Human!Cas and self worth and belonging for his arc. TBA probably next season, what happened this season makes no sense if not to lead to this.

- Destiel. Pretty much CHECK. (And now after seeing Jibcon and the boys just joking about it all the time? Yeah, I don’t think they have an issue with this!).

- ALL THE RAINBOWS

anonymous asked:

I don't want to seem stupid but I kinda feel a little out of the loop here...? I've been off for a bit, what's all the deal with the USA hockey? What's going on with them and the women's team?

Don’t worry anon, a lot has happened in the last few days and sometimes the hockey world is a bit of an echo chamber. So basically: 

USA Hockey and the US Women’s National Team have been in talks about equitable pay and more investment in girls development programs. USA Hockey has only been paying them $1000 a month while they are training in the Olympic camp. They can’t work and they aren’t getting paid enough, and these women don’t get paid a living wage to play hockey, so they depend on USA Hockey to help them out when they can’t work because they are at training camp for the Olympics.

The negotiations weren’t going anywhere so the national team is boycotting the women’s world championship which the US is hosting. Instead of trying to work it out with their national team, USA Hockey is trying to find a replacement team.

What they didn’t realize was that the captain of the team, Meghan Duggan, made over 100 phone calls to the entire pool of women’s hockey players in the national program.

“It’s not just about the girls you’ve seen in the media. It’s about everyone,“ Duggan said. “I felt in my gut that I had to call everyone individually and directly.” They weren’t calls to drum up support. That, they already have. It was just an effort to stay united, to say thanks for the support. It’s support that has been unanimous among the best women hockey players in this country.“There’s been no resistance. Zero resistance,” Duggan said. “Everyone knows this is the right thing to do.”

USAH sent out a form-letter email asking for them to play. They even asked a few high school seniors (who are on the U18, or under 18 team, but still, ouch). Keep in mind there’s like 400 players in the lineup before these girls, so they were turned down by hundreds of people before it got to that point.

Now they’ve actually moved on to beer league players.  

Two sources confirmed Saturday that the federation has even reached out to post-collegiate players who are playing now only in rec-league competition. One such player, who last played in college three years ago, said Saturday in a phone interview, “It’s crazy. Just crazy.”

“They said USA Hockey is having a final meeting Monday, and if the national team is still boycotting, we need you to report Wednesday,” the player added. “What I kept going back to is, ‘How do I say no, but how do I say yes?’ I mean, I just play in a beer league. I just play for fun now. I don’t train like I did in college. It’s insane.”

One of the worst things tho is we don’t know if they’ll have insurance. Hockey is a fast paced dangerous sport, and if they really are putting a team together that has high school kids and rec league players, they could get hurt really easily. 

All in all, USA Hockey would rather risk teenagers and rec players getting injured and having no insurance instead of just paying their own national team what they need to play hockey. It’s just shameful, and really reveals what they think about their own women’s team. 

If you want anymore info, I have a ‘uswnt boycott’ tag on my blog.

That Special Time of the Month

Originally posted by antisepticdark

Summary: Fem!Reader wakes up to find that her period came during the night and now she has to deal with the guys being annoying at the office… Well mainly just Mark. Hope you guys like!

A/N: Hello! I wrote a fic, and trust me its not very good and it’s waaay longer than it needs to be. Be gentle, I’m new to the whole posting my writing thing. Also! I speak fluent Spanish so i used some slang in the fic!
“No mames”- Spanish slang/curse for “no way”/“no fucking way”
“Sentida”- Spanish for upset or offended (in this context reader is sad)
Lastly there’s a text conversation in the fic so ‘-’ is Ethan and ‘=‘ is Tyler.

Wordcount: like +2k I’m sorry this is too long bye

Requests are open? This is no good so I don’t know why anyone would be requesting but yeah you can do that if you want. Hope you guys enjoy!

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

can someone explain why ppl say sm hates sj? isn't leeteuk like lee soo mans prodigal son and didn't kyu say he's the only thing that makes sm ceo smile these days? why do elf think that did I miss something?

I seriously don’t know what make you think that ‘leeteuk’s like lee soo man’s prodigal son’ but anyway, from the start super junior was neglected by the company, as lsm said: “after tvxq formation, the members that weren’t chosen to be a part of the team were on the verge of disintegration. But because we had already contracted with them, we had to take responsibility. One of the teams was Super Junior, a group we raised to excel in music and variety shows. In order to survive, they had to cry tears of bleed through their efforts. We felt sorry for them, which is why we helped.”  Basically they debuted suju because they had to and after that the company was like ‘survive if you can otherwise we gonna replace you with someone new anyway’ and suju survived even when they had to work 100 times harder than others.

SM never really put much efforts in promoting them and super junior/elf have often been mistreated by SM [you can read about it here (1,2,3,4,5,6)] also, as heechul said: “I sometimes mention how we’ve been ranking first in Taiwan for 38 weeks and how Bonamana has been topping for 18 weeks and stuff like that when talking to people in our company and ask why they don’t make articles for us. I asked them to put out a few headlines like other companies do so that people just don’t think we’re doing nothing. When I say things like that, however, they’ll say back, ‘It’s because we think that it’s definite that Super Junior achieves those things. I don’t think it’s necessary to make a big deal out of things like that.’ So I’ll always just say back, ‘Yeah, you’re all talk.’” This just shows that SM don’t promote suju and they don’t care about them at all. That’s prolly the reason why, in Korea, many people don’t even know about super junior’s success and achievements. SM know that ELF will still support super junior even when they won’t put any efforts in promoting them, so they aren’t doing anything at all for them, which is just sad.

and to summarize the statement ‘sm hates super junior’ i’ll just leave this comment from an article here:

“So they made a group that they didn’t even think would do well out of pure sympathy. They made them sleep only 2-3 hours a day and travel to Malaysia, China, and Korea in just a day. They made someone who lost their father three weeks ago stand on stage and sing bright songs. They made an injured person that couldn’t even walk properly drag their legs on stage to sing. They made someone that had just come out of a car accident to go on TV. In such a tragic setting, you forced these kids to go on variety shows, perform at events, made them the talk of misunderstanding and criticism just so you could touch a bit of money. Even if they created laughter on variety shows, worked so hard to the point of fainting, they were only given several hundreds for their work – all members included.”

if sm don’t hate super junior then why would they treat super junior like this despite of them doing so well and making most of sm’s money and all of that from a group that they debuted out of pity and with no expectations at all? If anything SM should be grateful to have super junior in their company and should really stop treating them so bad. Let’s just hope SM will finally get their shit together and better not mess their upcoming comeback as well :/

Okay but hear me out

Professor Mcgonagall and Teddy Lupin

Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Ron and basically everyone being super busy one day so there’s no one to take care of 2 year old Teddy.
”All right Potter,” Mcgonagall says, popping up in the middle of his living room. “I will watch over him. Go and do whatever you have to do.”
Teddy Lupin sitting in the Headmistress’ office, crying because he misses Harry and Ginny.
Mcgonagall transforming into a cat to comfort the boy.
By the time Harry comes to pick him up, he’s curled up next to Mcgonagall, fast asleep. 
After that, whenever the Potters are busy, Harry sends Teddy to “Aunt Micky” to play
Mcgonagall practically beaming as an eleven year old Teddy Lupin is called up to be sorted by the Sorting Hat.
An eleven year old Teddy Lupin watching his Aunty Micky in awe as she addresses the entire student body.
Teddy Lupin popping into the headmistress’ office because he feels like he’s failing potions.
Mcgonagall calling up Professor Longbottom to her office and the three of them having tea together.
Neville comforting Teddy and explaining that he himself was never good at Potions and it would take some practice, but he would get it eventually.
A fourteen year old Teddy Lupin being sent into the headmistress’ office for hexing a Ravenclaw boy who was insulting Bill Weasley.
“But professor, he had it coming of course. He was saying all those horrible things directly to Victoire’s face. Of course I had to do something.”
Mcgonagall taking 20 points from Hufflepuff, but letting him off with a warning. “And please, fix Mr. Flint’s face as well. It would do no good for him to walk the grounds looking like that.”
Mcgonagall warning all students with a special announcement at dinner that no one was to leave the castle because of some unknown dangers lurking in the Forbidden Forest. 
Sixteen year old Teddy Lupin sneaking into the Forbidden Forest past curfew with a couple of Slytherin and Gryffindor friends.
Teddy Lupin being hauled by Filch to the headmistress’ office at 2 in the morning.
Teddy Lupin standing in front of the headmistress’ desk, his head hung slightly as his friends tried to come up with excuses. 
Teddy standing with his arms folded over his chest, his eyes focused on the floor, refusing to meet her gaze.
Mcgonagall ushering the other students out of her office, then taking a seat at her desk.
Mcgonagall waiting for Teddy to sit down by himself.
Teddy Lupin feeling like the worst person ever for betraying his Aunt Micky like that.
Teddy Lupin opening his mouth to form some sort of apology but is interrupted.
“What you have done tonight reminds me of a group of students that attended Hogwarts years ago.”
Teddy looking up at her for the first time all night. He did not expect her to say anything like that.
“Yes, these four students seemed to get into trouble every single day. It is quite possible that they hold the record for the most detentions in a single year.”
Teddy Lupin not understanding why she’s telling him this.
Minerva Mcgonagall looking at him with a piercing gaze before continuing. “Despite all of this trouble, these four boys were absolutely amazing. They were amazing wizards, far more talented than most of the students in their year. And I loved them as if they were my own sons.”
“Professor I still don’t–”
“Would you like to see what kinds of trouble they would get into?” 
“I don’t understand Professor.”
Mcgonagall taking a deep breath before answering. “I trust Potter has shown you his memories of your father.”
Teddy Lupin nodding slowly, still unsure as to what was happening.
Minerva Mcgonagall bringing Teddy Lupin to the Pensieve and showing him, for the first time, who Remus Lupin truly was. 
Harry Potter knew the Remus who had been hurt and affected by the First War. He knew all of the pain and suffering that was felt during this time.
Minerva McGonagall knew the Remus Lupin before the war. She watched the social outcast find a family. She watched him grow. She saw him let his walls down and become more carefree. She stood by as he broke the rules and learned from his mistakes. She knew the real Remus Lupin. 
Teddy Lupin not being able to handle all of the memories at once.
Teddy Lupin coming back three times a week to learn new things about his father, and even a few about his mother. 
Teddy Lupin, for the first time ever, truly understanding the sacrifice his father made so that he could live in a better world. 

don't leave

Requested.

masterlist

word count: 3,184 (holy shit)

**warning: SMUT**

“It upsets me to think this is our last day together for months.” I confessed to Shawn, who was currently laying on the couch with his head in my lap, engrossed in a movie. My words made him turn his head to look at me. He looked up at me through beautiful brown eyes.

“Then just don’t think about it and you won’t be upset.” he said with a shrug. Oh what a wonderful solution you have there, Shawn. I wish it were that easy.

“It’s just not that easy. You’re going on a world tour, I’m going to college. You have other friends, Shawn, I don’t. All I have is you.”

“You have friends other than me. There’s no way I’m your only friend.” he teased.

“I have acquaintances, not friends.” I informed. “These acquaintances also won’t be going to the same school as me.”

“Nobody else could get into the school you’re going to because not everyone can be a fucking mega genius like you.” Shawn said, sounded irritated.

“Is that any way to talk to your best friend who made sure you passed physics and graduated?” I asked, wiggling my eyebrows at him. His facial expression softened at my tone and he no longer seemed angry. We sat in silence for another hour or so, long enough for the movie to be over. Shawn’s friend had suggested the movie and it sucked, if I’m being honest. We decided on watching The Notebook after that, one we both always loved.

We sat next to each other, my head on Shawn’s shoulder but in a platonic, nothing-more-than-friends way. It had gotten to the scene where Allie was kissing ice cream off of Noah’s lips and I felt Shawn laughing. I pulled away from his shoulder to look at him.

“What is it?” I queried, not being able to avoid the smile spreading across my lips from hearing his laugh.

“Wouldn’t it be amazing to be that in love with somebody?” he said. It made my heart sink because, until just now, I had managed to put away my thoughts about how in love I am with Shawn. I had hoped that just this one time we could be together without my thoughts interrupting what should only be friendship with Shawn. My throat felt dry and my eyes stung after he said the words. It was just a simple question, but to me it showed that he wasn’t in love with anyone, including me.

I managed to nod my head then scoot a few inches away from Shawn. I continued watching the movie, not being able to help but imagine Shawn and I being that in love with each other. Sadly, the love was only one sided. We definitely loved each other, but he only loved me as a best friend and I loved him with all I had in me. I realized in this moment I should have told him a long time ago. I should have confessed my feelings because now, we won’t see each other for months so it’s too late.

Shawn and I had planned to spend the whole day together but once the movie was over I felt too lost in my thoughts to stick around.

“I guess I should head home now.” I said softly, starting to stand up.

“What? Why?” Shawn asked, sounding concerned. I looked back at him and he looked hurt that I wanted to leave so early. “I thought you were staying all day?” I wanted to stay, I wanted it more than anything but I couldn’t focus on being his best friend when I was too busy thinking about being his girlfriend. My face felt hot and my eyes stung again, I could feel that they were tearing up. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Shawn grabbed my hand and rubbed his thumb over mine. I desperately tried to keep the tears in but I couldn’t help one from falling. A single tear ran down my left cheek and I wiped it away quickly.

“Y/N, please tell me what’s wrong? Did I do something or say something? Come here.” Shawn begged. He lead me to the couch and I sat across from him with my legs crossed.

This was it, this is when I have to tell him. I thought to myself.

I was a horrible liar and Shawn knew better than anyone when I was lying. My voice went higher than usual and my cheeks always turned pink after I realized how ridiculous the lie was. If I lied, he would know. I should just save myself the trouble of making up a lie and tell him.

“I just really don’t want us to have to leave each other because-”

“Because why?” He interrupted.

“Because I hate not being able to see you.” I said, stalling as long as I could.

“Why are you so upset though? I have to leave all the time and you don’t cry, do you?”

“No, but it’s different this time. I’m leaving for college so when you come home, I won’t be here. When I come home, you won’t be here, Shawn. It’s so different this time.”

“It’s not that much diff-”

“Yes, it is, Shawn! You don’t understand!” I said, raising my voice at him without meaning to.

“Then make me understand, Y/N. What is different about leaving this time?”

“Because I’m fucking in love with you and I have to leave you! You’re the reason why I’m going to college in Toronto, so I can be close to you when you come home.” I gasped when I realized that I told him. I actually told Shawn how I felt instead of keeping it to myself like I had for the past half of a year.

“Do you honestly think that I’m not in love with? Why do you think I’ve stayed here and haven’t gotten an apartment in New York or Los Angeles or wherever I want?” He paused. I only stared, waiting for him to continue. He ran his fingers through his thick hair out of frustration. “It kills me every time I have to leave you. You don’t even understand. I should have told you sooner, but I love you. I love you so damn much that it hurts. I’ve seen you get your heart broken multiple times and I have done absolutely nothing about it. I should have told you a long time ago, I’m sorry that we had to tell each other like this.”

“Shawn, don’t apologize. I should have told you a long time ago as well.” I cooed. I rubbed his arm in an attempt to calm him. “What does this mean for us?”

“What do you want it to mean?” He asked, looking up at me with his rich, caramel colored eyes. My own eyes stared into his for a moment, as if I was searching for the answer in his eyes. I exhaled sharply but slowly before giving him an answer.

“I want to make this work if you want to. I want to be with you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” I spoke. His eyes lit up at my words.

He moved closer to me and I didn’t move, I let him inch closer. I watched his every move and then he took my hand in his. Shawn’s fingers laced with mine and I waited for him to do something more. I knew I wouldn’t be able to force myself to initiate a kiss, so I waited for Shawn.

I stared into Shawn’s eyes and his face came closer to mine. A few small tears still lingered on my cheeks and Shawn kissed them away. The feeling of his lips on my skin felt phenomenal, I couldn’t describe the feeling. I breathed hard and sporadically. Shawn’s lips hovered over mine, our lips barely grazing against each other. I surprised myself when I closed the gap. I pressed my lips against his soft, smooth lips. We both smiled, causing us to bump our teeth together. We both laughed because it wasn’t awkward, it felt right. We knew each other so well already that this just felt right. This was how it was supposed to be all along.

Our lips moved together while Shawn’s hands rested on my waist. His soft skin lingered on my lips and he began to pull away. I grabbed the material of his shirt, pulling him back into me.

“Please. Don’t stop.” I breathed out against his lips. My breath was hot and short, I needed his lips on mine so badly that I couldn’t breathe properly. He smiled then kissed me once more. His tongue now traced over my bottom lip and I whimpered lightly at the feeling. Just simple touches from him were driving me insane. I had been craving kisses like these for so long now that this moment felt like pure bliss. His tongue moved against mine slowly and gently, but the kiss grew heated. Shawn’s teeth sunk into my bottom lip and I gasped at the feeling.

His lips now pressed against my neck and it felt delightful. My eyelids closed slowly at the feeling. I didn’t want to focus on anything but Shawn’s lips on my skin right now, but Shawn made that an easy task. His soft lips fluttering on my skin lightly made me shiver. His long fingers traced circles on my hips under my shirt. I now laid underneath him, he hovered over me but pressed his lower half into me. I could feel a slight bulge growing in his jeans and couldn’t help the smirk that grew on my lips.

We kept kissing for a while longer, until both our lips were raw and we had both kissed what little bit of skin that was exposed with all our clothing still on. Shawn’s fingers fidgeted with the hem of my shirt, obviously wanting to take it off.

“Bedroom?” He asked quickly in between sweet pecks on each other’s lips. I nodded and he grabbed my hand, I then followed to his room. Once in his room with the door closed, his fingers moved under my shirt again. He looked into my eyes to make sure it was okay and I gave him a look of approval. He peeled my shirt off and tossed it to the floor. Shawn moved over me on his bed. He kissed my still bra-clad chest delicately. My whole body erupted with a feeling I had never felt with any other guy before Shawn. He slipped his fingers under my bra straps and slid them down my shoulders. His hands were soon at my back to unclasp my bra.

Suddenly, I felt insecure. I felt like I wouldn’t be enough for him. I inhaled deeply while he removed my bra, hoping he wouldn’t be disappointed. Before I could process what was happening, Shawn’s mouth was on my breasts. His lips first kissed lightly, then sucked on my sensitive skin. His tongue teased my nipples and I ran my fingers through his hair. I moaned and whimpered from his touch and he hummed, his throat vibrating against me in response.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” Shawn kissed my stomach right above the button of my pants. I grew nervous because up until this point, I knew what I was doing and I knew what to expect. I’d had sex a couple times before, sure, but Shawn was much more experienced than I was. Even through the nerves, though, my centre throbbed for Shawn.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Shawn asked me. My nerves wanted me to say no, but I did want this. I had wanted it, needed it for so long. I told him yes and he continued. His kissed my hips while unbuttoning my pants. They slid down my legs and dropped to the floor with the rest of my clothing. I realized then that Shawn was still fully clothed. He hovered over me again to kiss me. His tongue played with mine and I pushed his shirt up while kissing him, hinting that I wanted it off. He pulled the fabric over his toned abdomen and chest and I nearly felt my heart stop in that moment.

I had seen Shawn shirtless many times but I never really could admire him like I wanted. This time, my eyes scanned over him slowly, taking in every detail of all the ridges and valleys of his body. Shawn asked again if I was sure that I wanted this, I told him again that I did. His long fingers rubbed my core through the damp cloth of my underwear. I squirmed under his touch, even though it was barely anything compared to what would come next. His hands hooked around my panties and removed them. I was now completely nude in front of Shawn for the very first time, something I thought would never happen.

He slipped his middle finger into me, causing me to gasp. His finger worked slowly inside me, trying not to build up the pressure too quickly. Shawn’s mouth made its way to my pussy, licking enthusiastically over my clit. I moaned for him over and over. I soon lost all control over holding off my orgasm. Shawn’s tongue flicked up and down my clit and his finger curled inside me. I arched my back and Shawn now had to hold my legs apart. I came so blissfully and Shawn drug out my orgasm until it was almost painful.

He moved from between my legs with a smile on his face. He wiped his mouth dry with his hand after licking my juices off his finger. A thought occurred to me, I wondered how many times he had done that to be so amazing at it. I also wondered how many times he had done what we were about to do. It was a stupid thing to think, but the experience I lacked in this area made me think this way.

I started to remove Shawn’s jeans. I unbuttoned them eagerly because I wanted to please him like he had just pleased me. Taking his jeans off revealed a prominent bulge in his underwear, which made me even wetter, if that was possible at this point. I inched the waistband of his boxers down until they were off him completely. I took his length in my hand, unsure of what to do but he seemed to enjoy it. I jerked my hand upwards on his cock and he moaned quietly. Shawn’s much larger hand pushed mine away, I thought that maybe it was because he didn’t like it as much as I had presumed.

“You’re going to have to stop. I want to last for you, Y/N.” he spoke. I felt my cheeks heat up at the thought of making him feel so good that he may cum. He searched in his nightstand drawer for a condom. He rolled it onto his hard length after tearing open the wrapper.

“Y/N, I’m only going to ask you one more time and please be honest, are you sure, absolutely sure you want to do this with me?” He said sweetly, lovingly. I started to second guess this whole thing. It was too soon, we just confessed our feelings for each other barely an hour ago. However, if we didn’t do this now, it would be months before we ever got to. I didn’t think I could wait that long.

“I’m completely sure, Shawn. I want this, I need this with you. I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else.” I assured him. He lined himself up at my entrance and kissed my forehead before pushing into me. I winced at the slight discomfort but was no longer hurting after four very slow and steady thrusts.

“Are you okay?” Shawn said, sounding concerned. I nodded and he kept thrusting at a slow pace. I could tell his thrusts were shallow and I was no longer hurting, therefore I wrapped my legs around him. This pushed his length deeper inside me than it had previously been.

“Oh, Shawn.” I gasped. I looked up at Shawn to see him biting his lip while watching himself thrust in and out of me. He looked as if he was struggling with keeping it at such a slow pace from the way his chest was rising so rapidly. He slid into me with ease now and finally, finally bottomed out. We both moaned at the feeling.

“Faster,” I begged, once the feeling of pain and discomfort was completely gone. Shawn looked into my eyes first, just to be sure, then sped up the pace of his thrusts. I could tell this speed pleasured him much more than the previous one and it was a pleasurable feeling for me as well. Shawn’s moans were more frequent and drawn out now. I moaned just as often, maybe even more than Shawn did. He knew how to make this feel so wonderful and different than it had ever felt for me before.

One hand was in Shawn’s hair and the other gripped onto his bicep, my nails digging into his skin. With each thrust I came closer to my climax and Shawn made it hard to not come undone so soon. I tensed around him after a deep thrust. I became short of breath and Shawn could sense I was close. He thrusted faster and I could barely take it. I clenched around his dick, because I wanted to feel every inch of him and also because I couldn’t control it.

Shawn’s hands were placed on my waist in an attempt to get a better grip while he thrusted. Just one more hard, deep thrust pushed me over into euphoric bliss all because of Shawn. I couldn’t believe he could make me feel this way, make me feel like no one else ever had. I grew more sensitive with every second that passed while Shawn brought himself to his orgasm. He pushed in and out of me sloppily and by the time I felt warm liquid fill the condom, I was more sensitive than ever before. Shawn hissed profanities through his teeth.

Shawn threw the condom away then left to clean up. He returned some minutes later and gave me a shirt of his to throw on. I slipped into it and took in his scent. Shawn lay beside me and we just looked at each other with our arms wrapped around one another. We took in the beautiful sight of each other with that post-orgasm glow we now both had. Inevitably, I thought of how we were both leaving tomorrow. It made my heart break into tiny pieces.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave me tomorrow.” I whispered.

“I wish I didn’t either. But when we both come home, I’m yours and you’re mine, yeah?” He spoke. A smile spread across my lips and I nodded to agree. I pecked his lips softly. The feeling of being his was overwhelming.

Messy hair, Don't care

OML . I saw a few gifs of Sebastian Stan’s messy hair and I GOT THE FEELS.

So I did a smutty n fluffy af one shot outta this cuz I couldn’t resist. I apologize because it might not be well written but it was stuck in my head ALL DAY LONG.

◇◇◇●●●◇◇◇●●●◇◇◇●●●

I was happy I decided to come along with Sebastian to this Comic-Con. Leaving my usual worries back at home and taking care of myself. Of course Stan still had to work, but I liked being able to support him. The best part was when the day was over, he’d come back to the room and make love to you for hours.

Today he had meetings with some important people, so I took the morning to enjoy the pool with Elsa -Chris Hemsworth’s wife- and her babygirl. “The twins stayed back home with grandma’.” she’d said. You played around with India all morning, she was a really playful one. When lunch time arrived, both of you headed to your respective rooms to shower and be ready for the afternoon activities.

As I got out of the shower -with a towel around my body and another on my head- the room door flew open and my husband walked in. Looking like he just ran a marathon. “Are you okay?” I ask, he chuckled and looked at me closing the door. “I am… very horny, that’s what I am.” he mumbles, liking his lips as he inspects my body. I cock an eyebrow at him, a perky smile appearing on my lips. “Why would that be?” I ask and he walks towards me. “There was this one picture of you in your bikini today..” he trails off putting a hand in your waist. You giggle when he pulls you closer to his body and he bites his lower lip. “And another one with India on your hip, you two looked so cute.” he grabs a hair that has slipped from the towel on your head, smiling.

“And just the thought of you as a mom seemed so hot for a second.” his eyes are on your body now and you can feel the growing bulge under his pants. You immediately pull him into a passionate kiss and it turns wild in a matter of seconds. He grabbed your waist and lifted you from the floor, taking you to the bed. He gets rid of the towel of your hair carefully as he continues to explore your mouth with his tongue. You run your hands through his hair and pull of it as he bites your lower lip.

He looks into your eyes and smiles “You should quit the pills.” he says and you freeze. For quite a while you had been considering to stop taking the contraception pills you were on, because you felt ready and wished to have a baby with your husband. You discussed it with him some days ago and gave him time to think about it. And here you were. You kiss him repeatedly. “Are you sure? A baby requires a lot of love, time and attention .. I would hate it for you to not be around a lot.” You say making a puppy face and cupping his cheek. He grabs your hand and kisses it. “After the movie I’m filming it’s over I don’t have any upcoming projects for ten months, and if we do achieve a pregnancy nor will I sing up for more in the lapse our baby’s first year. You have nothing to worry about, I want this just as much a you do.” He was serious about this, he had decided he wanted a baby too. He’d even made plans to make this works. And nothing could make you happier. “Well, even tho we need to plan this out better than this… we should get right to it. you give him a big smile and bring his fingers to your mouth provocatively.

His hands were all over you again as he kissed you and you are reluctant to undress him, looking so hot in those clothes and with a tie. His lips trail down your neck making an obscene but sexy sound. You let out a soft moan as his hands reach your breasts. By this moment he is humping you, seeking liberation. My arms climb to the back of his neck as he bites my collarbone lightly, and when his fingers make their way to my ass to finish removing the towel there is a knock on the door.

"FUCK” he whimpers under his breath, you let go of him knowing he wouldn’t ignore it but you aren’t even mad. He quickly answers, walking outside and almost closing the door behind his back so whoever it was couldn’t see you naked and spread in the bed. You chuckled, your heart beating fast. You heard the indistinct conversation of your husband with the person who knocked to your door and you could hear his nervous laughs. He was acting very awkward and you couldn’t even see him. This man would make the best father on the entire universe and you knew it.

Originally posted by eatalotandsleepalot

Pillow Talk

Summary: While at Vidcon, Phil can’t seem to fall asleep, even after the whole ‘missed flight’ ordeal. His mind begins to drift, and his thoughts start to be filled with pride for his most favorite person.

Genre: don’t let the title fool you, it’s all FLUFF

Warnings: umm none that i can think of

Word Count: 1486

a/n: apparently my brain always comes up with stories about people who can’t sleep. also pLEASE DON’T JUDE ME i couldn’t think of a good title so i named it after zayn’s song and yeah i wrote thing while waiting in lines and legoland and universal studios and finished while at dinner so yeah ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

~~~~

It’s been a long two days. Phil still couldn’t believe they had made it to Vidcon. He thought, for sure, that they’d miss it. He still couldn’t believe they they had gotten so lucky with that flight that had two seats left, perfect for him and Dan.

Keep reading

adlethstillio  asked:

A week ago I thought I had my anxiety under control.... ButT today I feel like I don't deserve to be called "adult" and this morning felt like I couldn't handle any more. THEN I learned that my psychiatrist bill is $700, not the $40 copay I was expecting. I know there are ups and downs, but fuck. This down hurts. A lot. I'm back to some obsessive tendencies I haven't done in months. Any tips for the down days?

I am so sorry. That sucks.

When I have down days, I do the best I can (being gentle with myself, and forgiving, because what is my best varies from day to day) to remember that this isn’t the first time I’ve had a down day, and to give myself credit for making it through.

“Ah, but that was different, this time is THE WORST,” your brain will say. And then we have to remember that our brain says that every single time, because depression lies.

I try to remember (and so I try to help others remember) that you don’t deserve this crap. This isn’t happening because of something you did or didn’t do; it’s just the way our brains are wired.

I focus on doing cognitive behavioral therapy, which is basically identifying a negative emotion (sadness, despair, etc.) and focusing on something awesome that made me happy, to replace it. For example, I may read a news story about one of my friends getting a gig I desperately wanted, and instead of being super happy for them, I’ll feel sad for me. When that happens, I have to deliberately think about and remember the specific emotional experience I had when I did something cool that I felt good about. I do my best to relive it, sort of turning up the mental volume on it, until I can’t hear (feel) the bad stuff.

That’s oversimplifying it, and maybe I’m not explaining it well, but it’s one tool that works for me.

I notice that, in your ask, you didn’t say anything about giving up or stopping therapy, and I wanted you to know that I’m proud of you for refusing to be a victim, and for sticking with your treatment and therapy to take good care of yourself.

Check in with me and let me know how you’re doing in a few days, okay? I promise you that it will get better. You are stronger than you think.

Drarry flower shop au

When Harry first moved into the peaceful town from somewhere in the North of England, he did it for the safe and soothing feeling he had whenever he went out for a walk and for the lack of noise and stress he always witnessed in London. But now, the restlessness found him even here, at the end of his small world. 

And everything started on that Monday morning. 

After a whole week of planning his flit, Harry was relieved to finally move into his new home on the afternoon of the last Sunday, but since he was too tired to even move a muscle, he settled on the couch for the rest of the evening and watched the telly until he fell asleep with the thought that on Monday he will walk around the neighborhood and possibly talk with his friends. 

What he didn’t expect to find, was a flower shop with white walls and a tiled floor. 

Keep reading

Little Girl

Requests: “I’m really,really sorry I thought I was done honest but I saw the Kai gif thing and now fluff, cooking cupcakes with Kai for your little girls birthday party (yum cupcakes) Please and Thank you ~S” (Credits to gif owners!) 

Kai’s daughter meant everything to him. From being a lost cause, to falling in love for the first time, learning how to control himself, getting married and having a daughter, she was his whole world. Its her birthday. Her fifth birthday to be exact which sort of came as a shock to Kai. He knew exactly how old she was going to be yet he couldn’t believe five years ago he didn’t know what to do in the hospital room.

He wasn’t exactly sure what to say, or how to hold her. Or how to react when he saw her face between the thick blankets for the first time. For so long he was confused with emotion, but he cried. He cried with the biggest smile on his face when he cradled her in his arms. He was wrapped around her finger ever since.

Keep reading

Until It’s Gone - Ch.7

Overview: Both brothers had loved and lost her. One night, Sam gets a phone call that changes everything.

Characters: Sam, Dean, Reader

Warnings: Language, angst, bar fight

Word Count: 1,973

A/N: This is the seventh chapter in my newest ongoing series. As always, thank you @wheresthekillswitch and @hannahindie for affirming me in my writing. You both mean the world to me. Feedback is always loved and appreciated!

Read (Ch.1) (Ch.2) (Ch.3) (Ch.4) (Ch.5) (Ch.6)

My tags are way down below. Let me know if you want to be added to anything that I write :)


Then: 

“Look man,” the guy started, “I’m not sure who you are, but if I want to talk to Y/N I have every right to –”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence, because Dean’s fist connecting with his jaw knocked the words right out of his mouth and simultaneously ignited a wild pandemonium that quickly spread throughout the entire bar.

Now:

Before you could process what was happening, Sam had lifted you up and over the bar top. “Stay down,” he said, noticing the fire growing in your eyes, “Please.” Then he turned to grab one of three guys who were unsuccessfully trying to hold Dean down. The shattering of a beer bottle joined the yells and screams resounding throughout the bar.

Your earlier state of shock was quickly replaced with a growing anger. You stood just as a beer bottle whizzed towards you, and you had to sharply dodge to the left to avoid the shattering glass as it struck the wall. A few droplets of liquid hit your face, and you quickly wiped them off while surveying the chaos around you.

The bartender had joined in the efforts to break up the fight while several other slightly drunken men decided to wander over and swing a few punches of their own. You watched with satisfaction as Sam’s fist firmly connected with one of their jaws; the guy crumbled to the ground like paper. Your blonde haired nightmare was wiping blood from his nose and watching Dean as he broke free from a burly man’s grip and effectively knocked him to the ground with a solid, forward kick to the gut. Dean turned to his main target then, calm and poised as he advanced.

Keep reading

In reverse (Part 4)

hey, i didn’t read this before posting.

hey, i wrote this at 3. 20 something a.m

hey, i need to sleep

Part 1
Part 2

Part 3

Archive of our Own ♥ 


Lotor has always been a lonely person. He never truly had any friends apart from Allura while growing up.

It wasn’t like he didn’t try bonding with others, he did! But people never like him so much. They Galra children were mean to him thanks to his looks, and nobody talked to him. He was always ignored and left behind.

Alteans children weren’t so different. They made fun of the color of his skin and said awful things about him. But not Allura.

They weren’t the best of friends since Allura was only good to him because she was a princess and had to behave, but they built a pretty good friendship from that. And really, Lotor was happy. He couldn’t complain.  

“Finally a friend,” he thought.

Lotor regretted losing Allura, Alfor and every good altean he met. After the fall of Altea, he felt even lonelier than before. He had lost a friend and a second family.

He resented his father for what he did.

Recovering Allura in his life, even as an enemy, was a gift for Lotor.

They friendship was broken, of course. His father had kill her family, and he was now leading his armies against her in order to please Zarkon’s wishes. But he was still glad to talk with her.

It was odd, really. They were enemies, but he could still stop and have a chat with her and her paladins.

Without realizing, he started meeting the princess once in a while in equal ground to talk for a bit. She always trying to convince him to join them and stop whatever thing he was doing, or just talking about old times.

Lotor never fails to notice how in those meetings the Blue Paladin is the only one of the paladins that talks to him and even stands by his side, keeping him company. Of course, Lotor sees this as a friendly and kind action. He doesn’t think too much about it

But Lance calls him “My prince” and Lotor is surprised. He wants to think he’s joking, but the paladin keeps calling him sweet names and giving him compliments once in a while and really, Lotor is not sure what to do about it. Sometimes he laughs or smiles politely, but most of the time he blushes.

Lotor doesn’t mind, and starts finding it funny even when he feels embarrassed.

He gathered the courage to answer. “Good bye, my paladin.” He feels motivated to keep saying it after he sees a big smile on Lance’s face.

They start talking, and it’s nice. Lotor feels a bit confused by this change, but he can’t truly complain. The Blue paladin has proven to be a nice and friendly person, and Lotor couldn’t help but being attracted to him. Their talks are simple and about nothing important, but the prince enjoys them deeply.

Lance becomes a dear friend to him.

But then Lance starts calling him endearments, and calling him “My love”. And Lotor is not so sure anymore if that’s how friends behave.

Lance gets closer to him. He touches his shoulder or pats his back. It weirds out Lotor at first, not used to having anyone doing something like that to him. It’s strange, and Lotor gives Lance a funny look the first time he grabs his shoulder.

But he says nothing, and allows the paladin to be close.

Then he touches his hair, and Lotor is again confused and surprised by this.

“Why?”

“Because I need to prove if it’s as soft as it looks. Now, stop complaining and come here.” He doesn’t understand where the sudden need of the paladin to feel his hair came from, but he doesn’t put any restrains.

He shivers when he feels Lance’s fingers softly playing with hair.

“Are you satisfied?” He asks.

“Very.”

And when he lets his hands falls, he caress his neck with so much tenderness that made Lotor jump and blushed like crazy. He looks at Lance scandalize and confused, but the human was smiling. Oblivious of what he had done.

Lotor swallows hard. He was not used to having someone touching him so much. Even when Lance’s actions are small, they do an amazing number on him.  

Something changes. His meetings with Allura becomes shorter, and his conversations with Lance longer. He wonders why the princess is always on a hurry, but he can’t truly complain when he earns more time with Lance.

He becomes eager to see him.  But suddenly Lance is not waiting for him anymore, not looking at him so much or even talking to him. He tried waiting to see a reaction of the Blue paladin, he hoped he would suddenly look for him again. But he didn’t.

So he takes a step forward, grabs Lance’s hand and invites him to stay with him for a chat. He tries to flirt like Lance did many times with him. He knows he’s probably making a fool of himself, but he doesn’t care. Lance is laughing and he looks beautiful. And it made Lotor happy too.

He leaves to a planet, he has duties to attend. To his surprise, he sees Lance there and feels the need to run to him and greet him. But his guards are close, and they could tell the Witch about his meetings with Voltron or try to attack the Paladin.

Lotor takes Lance by the wrist, he doesn’t lets him talk much before guiding him to a dark alley, away from his guards.

“Ok, I think we are safe her–” Lance hugs him, and it takes him by surprise as always.

Lotor feels a pleasant warm spread in his chest. He hesitates a bit, but he returns the hug. Embracing the paladin on his arms. They are so close, and it makes Lotor anxious. A good anxious. His heart beats, and he swears his cheeks are blushing like they always do when he’s with Lance.

He hands are on his waist, holding him close. He doesn’t want to let him go.

The kind of intimacy they were sharing in those moment was something he had never experienced before, and Lotor just wanted to cling to Lance’s body.

To get more and more of him.

Lance moves, and now they are staring. The boy bits his lips, and Lotor takes a deep breath. Lance’s eyes are shining, and Lotor is not stupid. He knows what the paladin is waiting for. And God, he craves it too. But he is unsure.

What does he feel? Is it desire? Is it love?

Maybe he was only starved-touch.

Lance breaks apart. The moment is gone and the paladin only gives him a kiss on the cheek.

He feels a little bit sad, to be honest.

“It’s good to see you, my prince.”

Lotor’s smile returns, and he nods leaning to kiss him on the cheek too. “The pleasure is all mine, my paladin.”

He swallows and shakes his head. Being near to the Blue paladin always makes funny things to him. He clears his throat and starts talking, trying to ignore what happened between them, at least for now.

Lance stays for a week. And it’s wonderful. Lotor manages to get rid of his guards, so he can be with Lance all the time. He feels truly happy, and he doesn’t feel as lonely as before. He finally has someone with him, and it was Lance. He was his friend and so much more.

Lotor slowly comes into terms with his feelings, and realizes he likes Lance in the romantic way. And how could he not? The paladin was adorable. He was funny, good-looking, kind, and just perfect to Lotor’s eyes.

“It’s time for me to go.”  

“What? Why?” Says Lotor looking alarmed.

“Lotor, I finished my mission days ago. I need to return to my team, they need me.”

“Can’t you stay a bit longer?” Lotor takes his hand. His grip on him strong. He doesn’t want to let Lance go.

“I’m sorry, but I told you I need to go.”

He frowns and panic settles in his chest. He knows he looks pathetic, looking so devastated, but he didn’t care. Lotor embrace Lance in his arms, hugging tightly. His heart breaking at the thought of Lance leaving him after realizing he was in love with him.

“I need to tell him!”

Lance cups his face on his hands, obliging him to look at him. Lotor recognizes it, the same longing look they share in the dark alley and he decides he won’t let that opportunity go away.

Slowly, he leans forward. He can feel his heart beating fast and his cheeks blushing. He is nervous, but not afraid.

They kiss and Lotor can’t believe what’s happening. He tries to be soft, sweet. To show Lance through the kiss how much he cares for him, how much he likes him. Lance responds with eagerness, and Lotor makes a surprise noise.

He makes his best to follow and to repeat some of Lance’s movements.  

The kiss is kind at first, but it gets a bit intense with time. Lotor wants more, and so does Lance he can tell. But the prince stops before things can get out of control. Lance’s lips are red from their make out and Lotor can’t help to give him a few kisses more.

Being new to the experience, he only wanted more.

Lance chuckles. “I think I can try to talk with Allura and see if I can stay a bit longer.”  

Lotor nods, making Lance laugh even more. The boy takes his helmet, gets up and leaves the room to talk with his leader in the halls. Meanwhile he stays there, touching his lips with a small smile on his face.

He sighs and lets his smile fades for a bit.

He just hopes that his happiness last.



They always say that ignorance is a bliss, Lotor.

Enjoy things while you can, my prince.

trappedjesus475  asked:

Companions react to Sole giving them Christmas gifts, even though they have no idea what Christmas is. (Great gifts too, like armor mods and a jetpack attachment for Danse, or a brand new printing press for Piper, etc.) Oh and they don't expect any gifts in return.

In Fallout 4, if you go into Diamond City on December 25th, christmas lights are strung up around the city. That kind of winter holiday has been around for centuries, and would likely still be around for centuries in the future. However, some companions may have a better idea of “Christmas” than others.


Cait: “Well, shite, Sole, you didn’t need to get me anything.” She’s taken aback by the generosity, even a little suspicious. “You’ve got to want somethin’ in return.” But Sole insists, so she shrugs off the gift and pretends it doesn’t matter that much to her. But, later, she finds herself watching and re-watching the kung fu holotapes Sole got her. She even cracks a smile when she pulls off a roundhouse kick, just like they showed in the film.

Codsworth: His voicebox crackles with emotion. “Oh, Mx. Sole…” If a robot’s eyestalks could water, Codsworth would be weeping. It’s a handmade set of matching oven mitts and apron, with a mitt for every claw and an apron that fits perfectly around his torso. It’s a simple gift, but one that makes him overjoyed. He insists on wearing them every time he cooks.

Curie: “Oh, Sole!” She claps her hands to her cheeks in glee. Real lab equipment is rare in the wasteland. Test tubes are often chipped or cracked, medical textbooks are ruined, microscopes are broken… She runs up and clasps Sole in a hug, thanking them profusely for her pristine lab equipment. “It is so beautiful! I will be able to do so much with this!”

Danse: “I…” He’s speechless. To most, it would look like just a few boxes of tech. To Danse, it looks like the pieces to the finest power armor mods in the wasteland. He holds up each piece of metal in awe, running his fingers over it, making a plan in his mind for how to put them together. There’s the faintest glimmer of a tear in his eye. “This is so generous of you,” he says at last, with a shocked, sweet expression on his face.

Deacon: He stares. For once, for a few critical seconds, the liar is rendered speechless. “Wow, Sole,” he murmurs at last, picking up the Pre-War “disguise kit” with a lop-sided smile. It’s full of paints and wigs and costumes. It’s something a make-up artist or entertainer might have used 200 years ago, but now… “I didn’t know you moonlighted as Kris Kringle,” he jokes. He laughs it off, but people don’t often get him things. It touches him deeply.

Dogmeat: He gets a Deathclaw bone to gnaw on. He’s delighted by it, and makes it his business to drag it around and chew on it all day and night, despite it being as big as he is. To show his appreciation, he lavishes Sole with doggy kisses, jumping up on them and nearly bowling them over as he nuzzles them.

Hancock: He waves away Sole’s insistence that he doesn’t have to get them something in return. “Fahrenheit!” he calls. “Have this framed.” He hands over his present - a copy of the Constitution, in all its glory. He’s never actually read all of it before, and it makes him unable to stop grinning for two days. He informs the Goodneighbor residents that they now celebrate Christmas, and proceeds to buy everyone presents. 

Nick Valentine: He lets out an uncharacteristic laugh. It’s a mug, with the words “World’s Best Sad Toaster” handpainted on the side. He smiles every time he looks at it. It turns out that he got Sole something for Christmas, even before he knew they’d get him a present. His gift is an intact snowglobe of Pre-War Boston. “Found it in a tourist trap,” he says, with a faint smile. “Dunno. Guess I hoped you were an old sap like me, and that you’d appreciate it.”

MacCready: His eyes bug out of his head. “This is for me? For me? You gotta be kiddin’ me, Sole.” It’s the finest, shiniest sniper rifle he’d ever seen. Growing up on half-modded, half-broken guns, MacCready always wanted a decent weapon but never had the heart (or caps) to get himself one. Though, after receiving the present, he drives himself half-crazy trying to think of a way to repay Sole, refusing to take it as a charitable gift. He’s still thinking.

Piper: “Blue, you- you-” She shakes her head, a wide grin on her face. “You amazing, wonderful person!” The printing press, all clean and fixed and good as the day it was made, gleams in the front of Publick Occurrences. Piper whips around and pulls Sole into a tight bear hug, squeezing the air from their lungs and thanking them a million times before running over and hugging the press and kissing its surface dreamily.

Preston: “Oh, Sole, you didn’t have to get me anything.” But he can’t help the blushing smile across his cheeks as he takes in Sole’s gift. A refurnished farmhouse, just south of the Castle. Preston might be a militia man, but in his heart he was a farm boy, who wanted land to tend and somewhere to call home. The house itself isn’t much, but it’s the promise of a future that makes him wipe an embarrassed tear from his eye.

Strong: “Is… for me?” He gives Sole a suspicious look. “Won’t get mad if Strong kill?” With Sole’s reassurance, he lunges into battle with an unsettling grin. Strong, being away from his brothers, does not often get the chance to wreak havoc. Sole spent a month collecting various wild animals and putting them together in a big field, then challenging Strong to wrestle/eat them to his heart’s content. The mutant is very pleased.

X6-88: “Mx. Sole, I really do not know what to say.” Coursers are not given presents. It just isn’t done. So when Sole shows up with a restored motorcycle and a brand-new pair of sunglasses, he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do. “Thank you,” he says at last, running one hand over the smooth metal of the bike. “Am I… allowed to use this?”

franceschee  asked:

My birthday is April 28th. I don't maintain a blog on Tumblr though. I created an account just to follow the fabulous fellow Everlarkers here. If you can, I will take anything I can get but if possible, some smut please. *bambi eyes*

Happy birthday! Here is a little something special cooked up just for you by @katnissdoesnotfollowback. Have a wonderful day and enjoy the read!


Have Your Cake and Eat It Too

Happiest of birthdays to you! I hope you enjoy what I’ve cooked up for you and it adds to to your celebration. Thanks to @peetabreadgirl for prereading this sucker.  <3 KDNFB

TWENTY-FIVE

“I’m gonna be late. Please tell me you made some hot water for tea this morning,” Peeta says to his brother as he rushes into the kitchen and tosses his bag on the counter.

“Gotta move faster, old man,” Ryen teases, but lowers his newspaper enough to point to the kettle sitting on a silicone trivet.

“You’re two years older than me,” Peeta grumbles, not bothering to look at what he is sure is a self-satisfied smirk on his brother’s face, choosing instead to focus on pouring the water into his travel mug and dropping in a tea bag to steep.

“Yes, but nothing good happens after twenty-five. They expect you to be an adult after twenty-five. For real,” Ryen complains and Peeta curses as the hot liquid splashes over the edges onto his hand when he moves it a little too forcefully towards the spot where he left the lid.

“Graham would disagree,” he mutters sarcastically as he shakes the tea droplets off his hand and wipes the residue on a towel. His skin stings, but he doesn’t have time to deal with it.

“Graham is an idiot,” Ryen returns, but he doesn’t say the rest of what they’re both thinking.

Keep reading