look at how much she's grown

Some thoughts on the Maheswaran mother-daughter relationship

Connie looked so much like Dr. Maheswaran in this episode.

It’s adorable because in the canon time of the show, she’s picked up on her mother’s mannerisms in the way that a decade of living with her did not. It’s shows how much they’ve grown together as a family, and how their relationship has changed.

Considering this was how she looked in her first appearance:

There’s a marked change not only in design but also in her expressions.

And it’s been hinted at before, but in this scene, she so explicitly worries about her mother the way her mother worries about her. It’s very touching, especially because we know they started out caring about each other but not understanding one another. Because you  can love someone and never try to understand them. It leads to a lot of conflict but both parties can still come out of it feeling like they did what was “best” for the other.

Connie used to think it was better that her mother knew nothing so the latter wouldn’t worry about her. And Dr. Maheswaran wanted to be on top of everything so that Connie would have an easier life. 

What we learn from them is that to be able to love someone better, we open up to them and let them open up to us. Connie used to act as though her parents were infallible, or at the least, able to manage themselves. Over time, and in this episode, she’s shown to be worried about them because she knows they’re human beings too. They can get hurt, make mistakes, and put themselves in danger.

Knowing these things puts the other person in perspective. It makes their place in our lives mean more. And it makes it harder to take the people we love for granted.

So I would say Connie and her mother interact a lot more now. They probably talk about each other’s days. Notice how even Dr. Maheswaran talked about everything that happened to her prior to picking Connie up. She believed her daughter deserved an explanation. And that’s a far cry from the mother who would proudly bring out the “Because I said so,” and “We’re doing this because we love you,” cards in Fusion Cuisine.

Not everyone has this experience with their parents. Sometimes things just happen to drive parents and children apart. But in their case it worked out, and now they each have one more person who will always be there for them.

When Connie told her mother that Steven just came from outer space, there was no incredulous reaction. Only an, “Oh?” in an interested and calm tone. 

They’re both trying. And I’m certain they still have their share of disagreement, but it’s dealt with in a much healthier way now.

bad | 01

 He was the cliché bad boy. He was the guy you couldn’t stand. He was the handsome, hot kid who made girls go weak in the knees. He was a brat. You had never liked him one bit, but you had also never gotten involved with anything concerning him. Until one day, when you were in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Originally posted by thesoshisone

MEMBER: jeon jungkook x reader

GENRE: romance, smutish, fluff

WORDS: 2 506

WARNINGS: badboy!jungkook, cussing, mature

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08coming soon

A/N: if people like this, I’ll make another part. it won’t be a long series, though. this will probably be cliché af. but please, pretty pretty pretty please tell me what you think. THANKS.

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Jealousy || Stiles Stilinski Imagine

Originally posted by elizabethccoper

Request: Do you do one shots too or only imagines? If you do, I was thinking maybe an teen wolf x Riverdale crossover. Like the reader goes to Riverdale for the summer to hang out with her cousin that just moved there (Veronica) and she meets jughead and he reminds her of stiles the guy she’s been in love with since forever and she starts getting close to jug and Stiles finds out and gets jealous bc he’s lowkey in love with her too and he goes to Riverdale to get her and maybe there’s some angst and smut

A/n: I haven’t posted anything in months (probably 6 months? Idk) and I’m really sorry about that. I had zero motivation to write anything and if I did nothing would come to me, so I’m really sorry. But now I’m back with school almost being over, I have a lot of time now. So enjoy this imagine that I wrote and sorry if it isn’t perfect and sorry if there’s any grammar error. Love you guys x

“Do you have to go?” A sad looking Stiles asked from across the room. You sighed, nodding your head as you packed some clothes in your suitcase. Stiles let out a puff and got up from the chair he was sitting in and walked over to your bed. “I don’t want you to.”

 “Stiles, it’s just the summer. It would go by pretty fast.” You told the brown haired boy and gave him a smile. He gave you a forced smile and you threw the shirt you had in your hands at him. Stiles let out a loud squeak, making you burst out laughing. 

 “That was so not cool.” Stiles claimed, glaring at you. You stuck your tongue out at him and giggled a bit. “Tell me again why are you leaving?”

 “I haven’t seen my cousin, Veronica, in a really long time and she always lived on the other side of the states and now that she’s 5 hour away I can finally go and visit her.” You exclaimed, getting excited about the fact that you’re going to see your beloved cousin after so, so long.

 “What if a monster invades the town?” He asked and you stopped folding your clothes to look at him, raising your eyebrows at him.

 “Stiles, if anyone invades the town there’s always Scott, Malia, Lydia…” you started to say, your face feeling hot before finishing your sentence, “and they have you. If anyone can stop those monsters, it’s you..”

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To everyone saying that the one “fuck” was wasted this season of Bojack:

That’s the point.

We hear the “fuck” in an early episode – episode 5 – rather than one late in the season, as was the norm for past seasons. In past seasons, the “fuck” is said to Bojack by someone whom he has destroyed his relationship with: Herb, refusing to forgive Bojack; Charlotte, kicking Bojack out of her home after she catches him trying to sleep with her daughter; Todd, telling Bojack off for being shitty and refusing to get better after Bojack has slept with Emily. In this season, Bojack is the one to say it, as he details his plan to “finally tell off” his Alzheimer’s-afflicted-mother to Hollyhock. As the two sit outside the nursing home where Beatrice lives, Bojack plots to put on a live version of “Horsin’ Around” for the residents, and then says:

After the show, I’ll come out and say hello, and she’ll say, “Bojack, is that you?” And when her eyes spark with recognition, I’m gonna sit down next to her, I’m gonna squeeze her hand and get real close and say… fuck you, Mom.

If Bojack had actually said this to his mother, who was deeply emotionally abusive to him as a child, it would have been a very fitting use of the season allotted “fuck.” However, he doesn’t, because she doesn’t recognize him until episode 11, and Bojack wants to wait until she knows that it’s him before dropping the bomb on her.

So when episode 11 rolls around, and in the new nursing home, her eyes do spark with recognition and she calls him by name, this is Bojack’s chance to finally do what he’s always wanted to, and he doesn’t take it. This is the penultimate episode of the season, the moment when the crisis hits and the “fuck” would normally be heard, but this time around, it’s different. Bojack could have seized this opportunity to tell his mother just how much he hates her, but instead, he comforts her. When she looks around the strange room and asks where they are, he tells her that they’re at the summer home, and eating ice cream – something she was forbidden to do as a child. And it gives her joy. It gives her peace.

That’s the real “fuck” of the season. There was a chance for it, and Bojack chose not to say it because he has grown, because he is learning how to let go of the demons of the past and look toward a brighter future. This season, unlike all past seasons, ends on a distinctly happy note, with Princess Carolyn’s “Philbert” project coming together, Todd’s newest business venture actually working out (along with a new romantic prospect), and Bojack mending his relationship with Hollyhock (the only storyline that gets a real downer ending is Diane and Mr. Peanutbutter’s). This isn’t a coincidence that this is also the first season with an absence of a true, vindictive “fuck” – and it’s because this is the first season that we have seen Bojack truly make a positive development in his personal growth. Largely thanks to Hollyhock, he has changed, if just a little, for the better. For once, he didn’t need to hear the “fuck” – because he didn’t need to say it. 

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!

Can we just talk about how much Touka has grown as a person???

At the beginning of TG, she was so impulsive and seemed to not have too much value in her own life. 

After the death of Hinami’s mother what did she do? Went and tried to kill the investigators on her own. No back up. No one knowing where she was. Coming back beat up. Only really considering things once Kaneki showed more interest in her being alive than she did. 

But now look at her, standing her ground and thinking things through. 

When shown the hand and told it was Yoriko’s hand, she didn’t lash out. Instead she stayed calm, acted as if she had no idea who Yoriko was, and focused on the fight at hand boo puns. She could have gotten angry and lost focus, which is probably what Mutsuki was hoping for, but she didn’t. 

Also acting as if she didn’t know who Yoriko was is so smart of her. Whether or not that is in fact her hand, Touka acting as if there is no connection between them will keep Yoriko safe and unconnected to the ghoul world. This is something she would have had to think of on the spot, in the middle of a life or death battle.

Touka could have also stayed and continued to fight Mutsuki but she took the first opportunity to get her and Kaneki to safety. Touka from the start of tg would have tried to fight her way out and feel like she running away was the wrong thing to do. 

She made a place for Kaneki to come home to, is ready to fight at his side, but also knows when to run away.

She has grown both smarter and stronger. I’m so proud of her.

mum

Sirius Black had always traveled to King’s Cross with incredible joy in his heart knowing that he wouldn’t have to return to Grimmauld Place, 12 for several months and that he wouldn’t see his family for a very long time. This was the first time Sirius had trouble getting out of his bed on 1st of September. He didn’t know how to explain it but it felt like a hippogriff was sitting on his chest making it hard to breathe.

“Padfoot,” sighed James. “If you make me miss the train, I will steal all of Remus’ chocolate and blame it on you and he will believe me.”

“Idunwanowunintmmawf,” said Sirius into his pillow. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I don’t want to run into my mother,” he replied sitting up realising he didn’t have the strength to deal with James Potter at the moment. 

“We will move quickly and we won’t see even a string of her hair,” smiled James. “That’s a promise, Pads.”

“But she will see us Prongs,” mumbled Sirius looking like a lost puppy. “That bitch has her ways, she always finds me and Regulus in the crowd.”

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous and get out of the bed” ordered James in return as he attempted carrying his trunk down the stairs for a second. “MUUUUUM can I locomotor my trunk dooooownn?”

“NO,” said Euphemia sternly from downstairs. “You’ll carry it down James and so will Sirius.”

“But muuuum-”

“James, dear, you are sixteen years old,” explained his mum like she was talking to a small child to make sure he doesn’t set the house on fire. “Stop acting like you are four or that girl you like so much won’t even look your way let alone like you. Independent women like grown men, not needy children.”

Euphemia Potter had a way with her son, she knew where all of his buttons were and how to push them just right because James Potter and his trunk were downstairs the Muggle way in a minute after the pep talk she had given. 

The breakfast was calmer than usual with Fleamont being at work and Sirius acting like he is half dead. When they were completely ready to floo themselves to the train station, Euphemia put her hand softly on Sirius’ shoulder, a kind of touch he wasn’t still used to after almost two months.

“Sirius,” began Euphemia. “What’s wrong? You know you can talk to me.”

“I just really don’t want to run into my mother,” confessed Sirius. “I’m scared of what she might do to you.”

James shook his head in disbelief, he found it hard to understand the irrational fear Sirius had. He knew Walburga was one disturbed woman but he also knew his mother shouldn’t be underestimated.

“Walburga should be scared of running into me,” said Euphemia half jokingly but James knew what would happen if they were to run into that woman. “I can handle him dear.”

Sirius nodded as convincingly as he could before he grabbed floo powder from the porcelain bowl standing next to the marble fireplace.

“King’s Cross,” he said clearly and he was gone with the green flames in seconds.

It didn’t take long for James and his mum to come with the flames. They hurried towards the Platform 9 ¾ with their trolleys and James ran face first into the wall just to disappear into thin air and then Euphemia and Sirius ran to the other side of the wall as well. 

Hogwarts Express was standing with all it’s crimson glory waiting for the students to get in to take them to Hogwarts. The three of them walked hastily to where the Marauders’ compartment was. They stood in front of the door to say their goodbyes.

“Be good,” said Euphemia. “I don’t want any letters from Minerva this year James.”

“Mum, you know I can’t promise anything.”

“Where did I go wrong while raising you?” she asked curiously. “Don’t answer that.”

“Sirius, write to me whenever you feel like it,” she reminded. “I’ll be expecting you home for Christmas, alright?”

“Yes, mum,” said Sirius and choked on his words almost instantly as a warm smile formed on Euphemia’s lips and James’ eyes lit up like they were fairy lights.

“Tsk tsk, Sirius,” came Walburga’s cold voice behind them. “We shouldn’t call blood traitors who didn’t give birth to us ‘mum’.”

It seemed like Sirius had shrunk in size as Euphemia stepped in front of him protectively.

“Tsk tsk Walburga,” she repeated. “We shouldn’t eavesdrop on conversations that aren’t ours and give opinions that no one asked for. He can call me ‘mum’ whenever he wants to, seeing that his actual mother is not available at the moment.”

Walburga made an attempt to grab Sirius by the wrist but Euphemia was agile for her age and she was holding onto Sirius’ wrist like he would die if she let go.

“You won’t touch my son and I’m not talking about James.”

“I suggest you stay out of this Euphemia, this is none of your business.”

“Oh, you made it my business when this boy showed up in my living room, barely breathing,” shot back Euphemia with all the rage that had been building up in her. Sirius was hiding behind her, careful not to catch Walburga’s piercing eyes.

“You are exaggerating,” she replied. “Nothing wrong with a little tough love.”

“I know an Unforgivable Curse when I see one Walburga,” she hissed just loud enough for people around them to hear, Walburga was turning purple with anger. “If I could, I would take Regulus from you, too, before he ends up dead from your tough love.”

“How dare you speak to me like that?”

“The same way you dare torture your children Walburga,” she said without blinking. “Now let go of my wrist and stay away from my sons.”

Sirius was trembling behind Euphemia who was standing like she was the queen of the universe, she didn’t move until Walburga Black turned around and left. 

“I told you I could handle her,” she said with a reassuring smile and caressed Sirius’ cheek softly. Sirius noticed the marks on Euphemia’s wrist then, burn marks like the long boney fingers of his mother. “As long as you got me, she can never come close to you and know that there’s nothing wrong with you calling me mum. Anyone would be proud to have you as a son and I am, too.”

“I- I can heal that if y-you want m-mum,” said Sirius, his voice shaking with the weight he was feeling on his shoulders. “I’ve- I’ve gotten pretty g-good with h-healing charms.”

“No Sirius, I can fix it. You forget you are not allowed to practice magic outside of Hogwarts,” she reminded and laughed a little. “It’s funny that a woman of her age is unable to control her magic like a toddler.”

Sirius’ eyes were still fixed on Euphemia’s thin wrist, his eyes filling up with the anger and sadness he was feeling. He lifted his eyes just a little to give a guilty look to James and saw his best friend smiling warmly down at him, he didn’t hide his pity but he didn’t have to. James always found it rather unlucky that Sirius ended up in such a messy family and never lied about how he felt about that situation, his pity was because he cared.

“Mum’s a big girl mate,” he said like he knew Sirius was about to spiral down and he needed someone to say something, anything. “She can take care of herself.”

“He is right, love,” nodded Euphemia. “Now, off you go, we don’t want you to miss the train because of something as unimportant and miserable as Walburga.”

“Just call her a bitch, mum.”

“James Fleamont Potter,” began Euphemia as she jokingly flicked her son’s arm. “You kiss me with that mouth and you will stop saying that word, even though some people deserve it, or so help me Merlin I’ll ground you until the end of time.”

“Okay, okay,” surrendered James. “I’ll just call her a goblin.”

“That’s my boy,” she replied and the spark came back to Sirius’ grey eyes. Euphemia hugged both of them and gave them loud kisses before she pushed them towards the train. “Don’t forget to write to me when you get there.”

“Sure, mum,” said Sirius with a grin before he was dragged away by an over eager James.

Athena’s Astrology

Pallas, Athene, and Minerva

To understand these three heavenly bodies, one must look at the mythology and symbolism behind the goddess they represent. They are named, of course, for Jupiter’s dearest daughter, Athena. In mythology, Athena was not born but rather she came from the head of her father, fully grown and already armed. Her birth, or lack thereof, is quite meaningful. Pallas is a goddess of the mind, and of war. She is a crafter, teaching mortals how to weave, spin, and so much more. She is much the same in war: Intellectual, insightful, and logical.

Unlike Ares, god of war, Athena rules over the justice and wit war involves. This can be seen in the Iliad, when Athena used strategy making herself invisible, and when Ares stopped to take the armor from the fallen, she helped the warrior Diomedes attack him. She uses her wit where Ares uses his rage and brute strength. She is a ruler of the mind.

Each asteroid is considered a different representative of this mythos: Pallas is the ego, Athene the curiosity, and Minerva the drive to accomplish. How they differ can be interpreted by which of her names the asteroids bear.

Pallas

Pallas, Greek for “maiden,” represents Athena’s role as virgin, master of her own sexuality. It also is tied to a darker myth in which Athena accidentally kills her foster sister and fellow student. When they are both being taught the art of war, they sometimes battle. A falling out leads to Pallas attempting to kill Athena. Zeus, seeking to protect his daughter, strikes the girl with lightning. Athena takes advantage of this moment, killing the original Pallas as she has been taught to. She is so guilt ridden, she takes on the name Pallas in homage to her fallen sister.

In some interpretations, Pallas is a name bestowed upon Athena for her defeat of enemies, such as a giant, bearing that name. In all interpretations, Pallas is the title of her enemy - a title which she takes on. This symbolism must be taken into account when interpreting Pallas’s role in the natal chart.

In this way, Pallas represents how we defend ourselves, both physically and otherwise. She is our righteousness, our sense of justice. She is also the mark of how we view vengeance, and respect our opponents, even if they may feel like enemies in the moment.

How we solve problems and conflicts is marked by Pallas. Some also associate hand-eye coordination with this heavenly body.

Pallas can also reveal how we relate to the men in our lives, particularly our fathers or father figures.

Athene

Athene’s true meaning is not clear, but it may be derived from Greek for “sharp” and “praise.” In this form, Athena was the defender, the protector of the people, and the asteroid’s role reflects this.

While Pallas shows how we defend ourselves, Athene shows how we defend and protect others. This is the shield, the goddess who protected her city and worshippers, who met their loyalty with loyalty of her own.

She also reveals how we can teach others, and how we view wisdom itself. In many ways, Athene is the representative of our curiosity, and how we seek to gain wisdom.

She also is associated with our need for approval.

Minerva

Minerva, the Roman goddess, must be viewed from a Roman perspective. Minerva was not always equated with Athena, she began as Menrva, the Etruscan goddess. She was also the goddess of trade and commerce in this form, she protected heroes, and she was associated with lightning. And Menrva stemmed from Meneswā, goddess of the moon.

Minerva, perhaps more than her fellow asteroids, represents feminine power, and in a sense duality. Minerva gives strength to our senses of equality, and inspires women to stand up for themselves.

She represents logical intuition, quick wit, and the ability to make realizations that strike like lightning. In the natal chart, she shows how and where we are perceptive.

Minerva is associated with public and political displays of ability and purpose, while Athene is more private.


by Lavinia Amoun

You’re Nuts Dude (Tom Holland x Reader)

Note(s): Sorry I haven’t written anything in a while dolls! I’ve been camping so there’s not much time >.<  I think this is the longest imagine I’ve written so far! Hope you enjoy it dolls x


Warning(s): nothing, just major fluff and feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelsssssssss


Summary: Remember that girl? Who didnt believe Tom was Spidey? Yeah? Well she sure as hell does now.





Tom sighed as he slammed his temporary locker shut before slinging his backpack over his shoulder and stalking off. He couldn’t wait for this day to be over,  it would be his last time setting foot in this school. The last time he’d be publicly embarrassed in front of at least thirty science wiz kids. He’d finally be free.


It had been a joke when he suggested to Marvel that he spend sometime in a High School, since he was British and had no clue how High Schools worked. Apparently Marvel thought that it would be a good idea and so three weeks  later the British actor found himself outside the Bronx School of Science with a fake name,a  backpack and a pencil case.


His time at the school hadn’t been a complete nightmare. There was this one girl, who coincidentally was in all of the classes Tom had to attend. She had these, mesmerising (eye colour) eyes that complimented her soft (skin colour) skin, along with a smile that could light up an entire room. She was incredibly sweet and so smart that Tom would’ve been lying if he said that it wasn’t a turn on. Tom had remembered her name to be (Y/N) and he’d heard that she’d been practically guaranteed a place at Harvard University in the future.


The bell rung above the young actors head, signalling  the final period of the day. With a huff Tom made his way to class, praying that  time would pass quickly.





Tom couldn’t help himself from staring she was just so… beautiful. He was transfixed with the way  she bit her bottom lip as she concentrated on solving the equation written out on the board. The way her hair would fall over her face as she worked, and how she would constantly have to brush behind her ears to prevent the luscious (hair colour) locks from obstructing her vision.


God, she was perfect.


Tom rested his face in the palms of his hands, his elbows resting on the desk for support. He gazed at her dreamily, wondering what’d be like to kiss those pretty pink lips, he bet they were soft and tasted of vanilla. He wondered what it’d be like to spend a Sunday afternoon with her, cuddling up in tons of blankets. He wondered-


“Mr Wilson, are you with us?”


At first Tom didn’t respond, still not used to being called by his fake name.  The professor standing at the head of the classroom called out again, attempting to gain Tom’s attention. All the while is brown hues were kept trained on her. “Sam Wilson?”


It wasn’t until she had turned her head to stare at Tom curiously that he realised he was been called. Sam Wilson. How ironic, marvel seriously couldn’t think of a better fake name.  He swore Anthony Mackey hated him anyways. Tom shook his head quickly, breaking out of his reverie and turning his attention to the teacher. “Ah-uh-um…y-yes sir?” Tom replied with a stammer, crumbling under the pressure of her intrigued gaze.


(Y/N) had her head turned to face the boy, an eyebrow quirked with interest. A smirk played at her pink lips as she eyed Tom, a mischievous glint in her       (eye colour) eyes. “Do you know the answer Mr Wilson?”


Tom’s head immediately snapped in the direction of the teacher’s voice, he glanced down at his worksheet only to see it completely blank. Damn physics. Damn (Y/N) for being so god damn attractive. And distracting. He looked back up at the teacher and shook his head with a blush, feeling 30 pairs of eyes trained on him. “Maybe if he stopped staring at (L/N) like that, he’d actually be able to get something right!”  A kid called out, sending the class intro streams of laughter.


Tom bowed his head, slightly embarrassed. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see the (hair coloured) girl, turn away from him to flip off the other student. “Why don’t you shut up Alexander?” She snapped fiercely. “Let him stare! At least he knows he’s good enough to get some”.


The class was sent into fits of laughter, as Alexander ducked his head. (Y/N) turned back to look at Tom, a grin gracing her supple lips as she winked at him, he only nodded sheepishly in response before her attention was stolen by the teacher, who was attempting to silence the class.


After a few minutes of the teacher blabbing on about half-lives and the life cycle of a star, (Y/N) turned to face the British boy sitting next to her, doodling in his notebook. “Hey man” she called out, gaining Tom’s attention, their eyes met and she could see that Tom’s brown hues had a hit of nervousness in them. “What’s your deal?”


Tom’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. This was the first time that she had talked to him directly and being the stupid teenage boy he was, Tom desperately wanted her to like him. He could make up some kind of lie? But then that would totally backfire on him since he’s a terrible liar. He could also tell the truth? I mean who wouldn’t find playing spiderman awesome? Not to mention the fact that honesty is the best policy.


“You wanna know what my secret is?” Tom blurted out before his brain could catch up. The girl beside him, only nodded. The boy sighed, before looking her directly in the eye. “I’m Spiderman”


Silence.


“My name isn’t Sam Wilson, it’s actually Tom Holland” the boy continued, in hopes of impressing the intelligent girl beside him. He quickly dropped the fake American accent to continue. “I’m British and I’ve been sent here undercover by Marvel for the past 3 days”


(Y/N) eyed him with a curious look before bursting out into fits of giggles, Tom watched her incredulously. She sure was gorgeous when she laughed, the way her smile reached her eyes where they would crinkle at the corner and- But she didn’t believe him?


“You’re-ha-so…funny!” The girl said between hushed giggles, leaning on the palm of her hand, smiling at Tom. He shook his head, a blush rising on his cheeks as the bell rung, signalling the end of class. (Y/N) briefly looked up, before leaning over her desk to wink at Tom.


She stood, picking up her bag and packing away her belongings before slinging the bag over her shoulder. Tom mimicked her actions, now standing opposite her awkwardly. “You’re a great lab partner” she said, grinning at him.


“T-thanks”. Tom stuttered “you are too”


She smiled, looking down at her feet. With a blush she looked up at Tom, moving to walk out of the class room as it cleared up. “I hope you have a nice weekend, ‘Tom Holland” she whispered sweetly, air quoting ‘Tom Holland’. “I’ll see ya on Monday? Yeah?”


Tom smiled at her sadly. “Yeah Monday…”






(Y/N) smiled as she stepped off the plane in Atlanta. The warm breeze, weaved its way through her lose (hair coloured) locks, causing it to gently sway in the breeze. She happily hopped down the steps , excited at the thought of exploring the state.


It was to be (Y/N)’s first time in Atlanta and she would be visiting her favourite person in the whole world. Her cousin, Laura Harrier.


(Y/N) and Laura had been extremely close since they were young, they did everything together and were practically like sisters. Although there were a good  six years between the two girls, they were almost identically alike.


The girl patiently waited for her luggage at the conveyer belt, her mind absently drifting of all the things she could do and explore in Atlanta. Her flower patterned suitcase went round the conveyer belt around at least five times before it was taken off by someone near by.


“I believe this belongs to you madam” the voice called out, grasping hold of the girl’s attention. (Y/N) turned, her (hair colour) locks bouncing as she did so. As she did, she was met with the beaming and radiant face of her cousin, Laura. The two girls squealed as they pulled each other on for a long and comforting hug. When they pulled away, Laura held her younger cousin at arms length, before giving her a twirl, causing the young girl’s sun dress to spin around with her.


“Laura!” (Y/N) chirped, quickly hugging her cousin again. “It’s so good to see you! I missed you so much!”


The older brunette, held her cousin at arms length, admiring her features. “I’ve missed you too! Look at how much you’ve grown!” Laura gushed, smiling down at her shorter relative. (Y/N) pouted playfully, softly smacking Laura on her arm.


“You make me sound like a baby” (Y/N) whined in a playful manner. Laura laughed at her, a mischievous glint in her brown doe eyes.


“That’s because you are a baby


“I’m only six years younger than you”


Laura smirked, wiggling her eyebrows teasingly. “Exactly”


The pair begun to walk out of the airport, sunglasses pulled down over their eyes avoid the paparazzi. They managed to make their way to Laura’s sleek black car, where her driver loaded in the luggage and opened the door for the pair. “So I was thinking-” the twenty seven year old actress begun. “That we grab a bite to eat at this adorable little corner cafe downtown before we drop your bags off at the hotel and-”


“Sounds like you’ve got this all planned out” the (hair colour) girl grinned, an eyebrow quirked at her cousin. Laura rolled her eyes in response, before digging in her purse as her phone rung. She gave (Y/N) an apologetic smile, before answering the call with a hushed whisper. The younger cousin let out a hushed laugh, looking out the window as she did so, admiring the streets of the state she’d never been to before. The sun reflected of the roofs of cars, creating a glare with an array of colours. The sky was as clear as day, only small fragments of clouds dotting the pale blue abyss or disappearing into small wisps of white.


“Sorry about that” Laura’s voice pulled the younger girl out of her thoughts . “Tom managed to mess up a scene at the studio and they want me to come in to shoot it again”


Wait?” (Y/N) called out in shock, causing the driver to hit the breaks.  The pair of cousins were launched forward by the force, almost colliding with the backs of the chairs. “Scene? as in movie scene?


Laura laughed, slapping her cousin on the leg. “Well duh? I’m an actress! Silly!”


“I know that!” (Y/N) exclaimed, an expression of shock displayed on her soft features. “But you got a new role! Congratulations girl!”


The older brunette blushed bashfully, smiling a bit. The driver revved up the engine, moving along with the traffic and making a left for the studios. “I was going to surprise you, since you’re such a big marvel fan…”


Laura trailed off, winking at her cousin. (Y/N)’s jaw dropped, her (eye colour) doe eyes widening. This only meant one thing. “You’re in a Marvel movie?!”


It took all of the young woman’s will power not to scream in the car. All the while her older cousin and best friend sat there grinning. The younger cousin waved her hands about excitedly, having been a fan of the comics all her life and having a cousin in the newest movie was a big deal to her. She was proud of her cousin and was so excited to see how she would perform. Although (Y/N) was never really into the movies, she’d definitely be seeing this one in support of her elder cousin. “Yes! This is crazy right?” Laura gushed, grasping her cousin’s hands.


“So crazy!” (Y/N) grinned. “This is all so exciting!”


“Just wait until you meet the cast” the twenty-seven year old actress stated, absentmindedly, leaning over to point the driver in the right direction.


“The cast?!”


Let’s just say, (Y/N) almost deafened Laura and the driver.






After dropping off (Y/N)’s luggage at Laura’s trailer, the pair headed over to the lunch trailer to grab something to eat. The two cousins made their way up the steps together, Laura was chatting excitedly about the friends she had made a few months into shooting whilst her younger cousin absentmindedly day dreamed. She was about to meet the cast of a marvel movie. Right on the other side of the door could be stars like Robert Downey junior, or even Chris Evans!


They made their way through the door, opening it up to find an arguing  group of actors and actresses roughly their age. “One hundred percent Gryffindor student!” A male voice called out, as if his opinion wasn’t obvious enough. “I mean who’s gonna go 'Yeah I wanna be in Hufflepuff!’”


“A lot of people actually” a female voice interjected. “Eddie Redmayne in fact.”


(Y/N) rolled your eyes at the conversation. Any Harry Potter fan would know that Hufflepuff was J.K Rowling’s favourite house.  She looked to Laura who was already shaking her head with a knowing look. “I know what you’re thinking, and honestly they’re not that bad. Not everyone is a Harry Potter nerd like you” the older woman chuckled. (Y/N) grinned, taking hold of her cousin’s hand before heading further into the trailer. The pair headed straight for the snack table, gaining the attention of the cast.


“Hey guys!” Laura chirped, causing heads to turn in her direction. Three pairs of eyes connected with the two cousins.


Laura!” The group chorused, attacking her with hugs.


“What are you doing back here girl?” A voice she recognised to be Zendaya’s, questioned. “I thought you had the rest of the day off.


I did“ Laura giggled, with a smirk, her gaze drifting lazily over to a brunette haired male. “But someone, managed to mess up a scene. So I had to come back”

Of course” Zendaya laughed, her hair bouncing around as she playfully shook her head. Her brown eyes shifted to the figure standing behind the twenty-seven year old. “And who’s this cutie?”


At this point everyone had gathered by the table. Laura stepped aside, revealing her cousin to her friends. “Everyone, this is my younger cousin, (Y/N)”  Laura babbled sweetly. “She’s visiting from the Bronx!”


“Hey everyone” she whispered shyly.


As soon as the name was uttered, Tom’s eyes flickered up. That was a  name he hadn’t heard for years. He was certain that he’d misheard his co-star. As far as he was concerned, he’d seen the last of that girl after his time in high school. One of Tom’s biggest regrets was not giving her his number. If he had a pound for every time he’d thought of her, he’d be filthy rich, or even more.


The British actor swallowed the lump in his throat as he watched Laura and her  younger cousin make rounds, meeting everyone. She’d already met Zendaya, and was now talking with Jacob. 'This couldn’t be her, no way.’ He thought, it was highly unlikely, it was virtually impossible, it was-


You?!” She shrieked, her (eye colour) doe eyes widening as she dropped her bag. Tom’s mouth dropped open. It really was her.


(Y/N) (L/N). The girl he constantly thought about for the last 3 years. All the while, the three remaining actors eyed the pair curiously.


“Do you two…know each other?” Jacob asked. A small blush rose on Tom’s cheeks as he tried to make eye contact with the girl opposite him. He noticed how her eyebrows were still raised in shock and how her eyes shined with recognition.


“Yeah…” (Y/N) spoke cautiously, reaching down to pick up her bag, sadness etched into her voice “Sam went to my high school for about three days, he disappeared and I never saw him again.”


Zendaya, Laura and Jacob eyed each other weirdly, before looking back at the confused pair. “Sam?” Zendaya laughed. “That’s Tom sweet cheeks”


Tom grimaced, as (Y/N)’s expression twisted from one of shock to one of confusion. The atmosphere was tense, you could cut the tension with a knife in there. A small, pink blush dusted her cheeks, as she tried to piece together the situation. “But I-but-he-we”


So this was the girl Tom talked about in his interviews” Jacob teased with a wink. “The pretty girl who didn’t believe he was Spidey, the one who called him crazy?”


Laura looked at (Y/N), shocked. “You’re that girl?”


(Y/N) stood opposite Tom, blushing hard. She had no idea what was going on, or how to wrap her head around the situation. Sam was Tom. Tom was Sam. There was no Sam. The cute nerdy boy from her physics class was Tom Holland. The Tom Holland. An actor.


Before anyone had a chance to speak, a stage hand came in to ask for the young actors. Laura was needed in hair and makeup so she could re-shoot her scene. Zendaya and Jacob were also needed as they had a couple lines in the scene. Tom had to reshoot his part a bit later as he had to put on the suit.


“Make sure she doesn’t die!” Laura called out as she left, causing both Jacob and Zendaya  to laugh out loud. They soon exited , leaving Tom and (Y/N) alone. Since it was a nice day out, Tom offered to take the younger girl on a tour of the sets. They explored the prop rooms and costume areas, they also talked about the movie. Tom did is best to make sure he didn’t tell (Y/N) any spoilers. He loved seeing how her eyes lit up as they walked between sets and admired different props. He loved the way her small fingers trailed over the costumes carefully, as if she was afraid to damage them.


Suddenly, the weather changed from sunny to dark and dreary. The grey clouds chucking down buckets of rain. The pair growing cold and soaked, ran quickly back to Tom’s trailer to seek shelter. Once inside, they shed their jackets that clung to their skin and Tom quickly changed his shirt (not that (Y/N) minded, she liked the way Tom’s abs looked). He timidly offered (Y/N) a spare shirt of his own and was waiting for her to come out of the bathroom.


The girl stepped out of the cramped space, her now wet clothes folded into a neat pile as she let Tom’s white shirt flow over her body. Her bare feet padded over the carpeted floor, as she made her way to Tom’s leather couch on the far side of his trailer.


He was scrolling through his phone, replying to fan’s tweets and liking Instagram fan art. He barely noticed (Y/N) sitting down beside him. She drew her knees up to her chest, resting her arms on them before propping her chin up. The       (skin toned) girl coughed lightly, capturing Tom’s attention.


“So, Monday huh?” She whispered, with a light chuckle, remembering their last conversation. At this point, Tom had slipped his phone into his back pocket.


“Yeah...Monday


They both laughed, it was almost as if they were reliving the conversation. There was a silence that swept over the pair, the only sounds coming from the rain beating on the roof of the trailer. “You know, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again” Tom spoke after a little while. (Y/N) looked up at him, taking in his soaked and adorable appearance. The way his hair fell over his soft brown eyes. God he was cute.


She let out a small laugh. “Don’t you think I should be the one saying that?” Tom let a small smile grace his lips as she talked. “I mean, I was looking forward to seeing you that next Monday, I came back to find out you had gone, gotta say, I was heart broken. Mr Wilson


Tom laughed at his fake name, before shifting fully to face her . “I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye”


“You better be sorry” (Y/N) scolded playfully, slyly grinning at the young actor. “I had just worked up the courage to ask you out, I really liked you, y'know?”


It was Tom’s turn to be surprised, he couldn’t believe the girl he was crushing on liked him back. “Y-y-yo-you liked me?” He stuttered, his hand reaching to rub the back of his neck . (Y/N) nodded bashfully, smiling at Tom.


“Don’t think I didn’t notice the way you stared at me, I thought it was cute!”


Tom couldn’t help but hide his face in a pillow, when (Y/N) laughed at his cuteness he chucked the cushion at her, hitting her square in the face. She squealed, trying to push herself away from him as the British boy launched himself at her, his fingers attacking her sides.


“Puh-pah-please Tom!” She begged between breathless giggles as he tickled her some more. Eventually, when her laughs turned to wheezes, Tom ceased his tickling. It was only then that they realised the position they were in, her back was to the sofa and Tom was laying between her legs, their faces pressed close and his hands by her sides.


(Y/N) looked Tom directly in the eyes, admiring the little flecks of black in his brown hues. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice that you were actually Tom Holland”


Tom smiled gently. “And I can’t believe I didn’t ask you  out sooner”


(Y/N) noticed how the air in the room had become scarce, and how hot her body felt pressed up beneath Tom’s. She thought back to how hard she’d been crushing on him during her senior year and how much she’d thought about letting him get away. Even after all these years, her feelings for him were still strong. She let her (eye colour) hues flick between his own and his lips.


At the same time, Tom thought about all the months he regretted not trying to stay in contact, he thought about all the times he wished she could’ve been his. And here she was, wrapped up in his arms, close to him. Before the British actor could even process what he was doing, his eyes had fluttered closed and he was pressing his lips to hers.


The kiss was sweet and full of so many unspoken emotions. The girls soft lips melded perfectly with Tom’s as they captured one another. (Y/N) let her small hands travel to the nape of the boy’s neck, her fingers twisting in the small hairs that resided there. The British actor snaked his hands around her waist, pulling her closer. The bare skin of her smooth thighs creating a burn on his arms as he lifted her. When they pulled away, (Y/N)’s eyes were still closed. Tom grinned, pressing a small kiss to her nose, causing her to open them. She smiled up at him.


“Wow” she breathed, causing the man above her to nod in agreement. “I guess we better thank Marvel, for sending you to my school or otherwise this wouldn’t have happened”


Tom gave the girl in his arms a toothy smile as she lazily gazed up at  him, her soft fingers tracing patterns on the bare skin of his arms. “And I guess I have a new story to tell in my interviews”


“You do?”  She smirked. “What’s it about?”


“It’s about how I get the girl that didn’t believe me and how head over heels I am for her” Tom murmured, leaning in for another kiss. (Y/N) sighed, contented.


“Is that your way of asking me out Mr Holland?” (Y/N) teased causing the actor to roll his eyes.


“And  what if it was? What would you say?”


The young girl pretended to ponder for a second, before leaning up to Tom’s ear. “I’d say, 'you’re nuts dude’” she whispered “do you know what I’d say next?”


“What would you say next?” The brunette boy whispered back, leaning down, so that their lips were almost touching.


“I’d say…hell yes”

Liability

A plus size imagine where Y/N has always been too much for everyone. Everyone except Harry.

“Have a good night everyone,” she yelled behind her to her joyous group of friends. One of her arms waving drunkenly to them and the other latched onto her boyfriend. “Stop shouting Y/N,” the sober boy next to her sounded bitter. Her face fell, but she was good at hiding. He always told her to be quiet or sit still, but she went along with it because at the end of the day they’d go to his apartment and fuck and she couldn’t let that go.

She felt good tonight. Actually, she felt better than good, she felt marvelous. A silk flowy slip adorned her heavy body making her look sexy, something she didn’t get to feel often. She drank just enough to feel loose and happy. She was drunk, but still able to comprehend what was going on around her. The best part of the night was that her friends were laughing along with her and dancing like no one else was in the club. She loved the feeling of being loved.

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Castaway {ACOTAR/Chapter 13}

Word Count: 3,265

Summary:  A modern-day University AU, from the A Court of Thorns and Roses universe. All characters belong to Sarah J. Maas. The idea for this fanfic hailed from prompts sent in by Anonymous, and @queen-archeron. You can read previous chapters here.

Author’s Note: Shout out to @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty for helping me with Nessian and Elriel story lines this chapter (she is a beautiful, talented writing goddess)! This one is a little shorter, but it sets us up for the second half of this fic! If you haven’t seen it, I put up a special announcement on my blog for what is going to go down after CA is finished!

Let me know what you think. :)

Originally posted by wonderlandgirlforever

Nesta hated being the patient.

She hated peeing in a cup. She hated waiting for the doctor to come in and tell her the results. She hated that she had to drive an hour to her hometown because she didn’t want to take a pregnancy test at the hospital she worked at.

She knew for a fact no one in that place could keep their mouths shut.

But, most of all, Nesta hated that time seemed to be going slower than it ever had before, as she sat on the paper-covered table, waiting, alone.

She found herself wondering if her mother was just as nervous as she awaited her own test results. She found herself wondering if she was excited when she found out she was pregnant with Nesta, her first born. She found herself wondering if she ever regretted having Nesta.

She wondered if her mother was looking down on her from the afterlife, patiently waiting with her, or if she had stopped checking up on her firstborn years ago.

Nesta wouldn’t have blamed her if she had.

An ancient clock was ticking obnoxiously in the background, the sound becoming deafening. She’d felt like she had been in there for hours, although it couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes.

Alone. She was alone. She wanted to be alone, though. Didn’t she?

Hurry up, Dr. Asshole, she thought, continuously, on a loop until a quiet knock came from the door in front of her, and it slowly pushed open.

Her head shot up as she quit fiddling with her thumbs, eyeing the old man as he timidly approached her.

“Ms. Archeron,” he smiled, his gray hair perfectly offset by his wrinkles. “So, tell me what’s been going on.”

“Can’t I just know the results of the urine sample?” Nesta snapped, narrowing her eyes.

The doctor’s smile didn’t waver. “Have you taken any tests at home?”

Yes. I’ve taken two. They were both positive. “No.”

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8

Updated my YOI shrine! With additional shot of bedside posters + pillows ^v^)b

While the overall number has grown (and I’ve completed the sets that had a few guys missing last time), you can see acrylic standee details in my older post HERE.

On My Love update: I’ve been busy with school lately and haven’t been able to write much, but I think that I’ll divide the chapter after all. The update will come out sooner that way too!

But since you all have been waiting so long, here’s a preview of Chapter 6! :D

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10 | Tomorrow

BTS MAKNAE LINE X READER AU

WORD COUNT: 3,265

WARNINGS: SWEARING, ANGST, FEELS, ETC

masterlist | ask | prev 


Sweat beaded your forehead as you ran through the sea of people flooding the airport, your breathing was erratic and Jungkook was nowhere to be seen. Your heart hammered angrily against your chest, where was he? There you were, willing to drop your life for him and he didn’t have the decency to even answer the phone the 14 times you’d called.

Close to giving up your eyes wandered the busy scene desperately once more, much to your surprise you saw a tall, broad figure wearing all black holding what looked like to be a Louis Vuitton luggage bag. Your Louis Vuitton luggage bag. That had to be him. You ran up to the man who was speedily walking away, his wide strides almost impossible for you to catch up with.

“Jungkook!” You shouted, earning a stare from a dozen pairs of nosey eyes in the process.

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anonymous asked:

I can't ever express how much I love your ayayui art blog. This pair is less common than with his other brothers, but they fit each other so well. Um, I was wondering. What do you think their child would look like? You don't have to answer tho!

Hello, dear! Thank you for your sweet message! I’m sorry it took me so long to answer but I wanted to make this answer special since I felt so inspired but I was on vacation and didn’t have my graphic tablet with me. I guess I went a little overboard with it but this is how I imagine Ayayui’s family haha:

I hope you like it! And I hope it’s not too cliché lmao. I didn’t draw them in their child/toddler-state because I prefer drawing more grown up characters, and you get to see how they’ll look in the future.

I imagine them all to be pretty close with each other, but also a lot of  quarreling. Ayato’s tries his best to make them get along with each other (sometimes even forces them haha) because he dislikes disfunctional families. Yui doesn’t sweat it that much, because she knows a little squabbling is normal. She’s also her daughters confidante, for “girl-stuff” and “love-issues”. She also thinks Ayato is too strict with her and constantly tries and talks to him but no chance, “No boyfriend until she’s married!”