my heart was breaking in several pieces while i was doing it

anonymous asked:

I dare you to tell another story from the apartment

ALRIGHT BOYS GIRLS AND EVERYONE WHO THINKS THE GENDER BINARY IS FOR SQUARES IT’S STORY TIME.

Today, we’re going to talk about the time Paul’s desire for superior firepower turned into a mini arms race that ended with me setting Eric on fire with a homemade flamethrower.

No, Matt Boomer, you sexy motherfucker, I am not kidding you. Let’s begin with some details.

So when I was at the University of Iowa, several people, including myself, bought Nerf guns for impromptu battles in the hallways when we had free time. Mostly this was all good, clean fun, except for two of the guys down the hall, my roommate, and I.

We all thought, rightfully so, that factory built Nerf guns are bullshit. They’re weak, darts are too fucking light, the barrels cause too much friction, which makes them inaccurate and slow, and you have to re-cock them after each shot. That’s some fucking bullshit right there. So we fixed it.

We bought new, higher tensile springs. We bought PVC pipe and lubricant. We put BBs in the tips of our darts, and my roommate and even put in a second spring to automatically cock the gun, essentially turning them from bolt action pieces of shit into semi-automatic friendship-ruiners.

So when I moved back to Chicago, and into the apartment, I obviously brought my Nerf guns (my roommate gave me his when we moved out), and I obviously attacked my roommates the first opportunity I had. OBVIOUSLY this led to everyone buying Nerf guns and modifying the shit out of them.

However, some of us were terrible shots, so certain measures had to be taken to make it possible for them to keep up. Brad practiced in his room every day, Josh built an extended clip for his gun, and Kyle bought the fucking Vulcan and built a 600 dart belt for it because he decided aiming is for people who can’t fire 6 darts a second (he modded it for doubled firing speed using a small car battery and replaced mechanics).

And then there was Paul.

Paul was fucking terrible. Like almost so bad it couldn’t be for real. He once tried to ambush me coming around a corner from 2 feet away and missed by a good 6-7 inches. He literally could have slapped me and he missed. Whatever moving on.

So Paul decides to solve his aim problems in the most Paul way possible: online shopping. He bought 500 foam pellets for a marshmallow gun, two dozen foam discs, and a motherfucking t-shirt cannon.

You see, Paul, much like Kyle, decided aiming was for lames. So he would pour foam pellets into the cannon until it was half full, slip in a disc to keep them from falling out, then shotgun people in the face. I was his first victim and boy let me tell you that shit is terrifying.

So Paul became the big dog in the house during Nerf battles, and the rest of us found ourselves unable to compete. So we all escalated in our own insane ways. Eric and I, the former champions, modified our guns to fire faster, Brad added an extended magazine to his gun, Kyle built a harness so that he could shoot his fucking stupid fucking bullet-storm piece of shit while moving. Josh booby-trapped various parts of our apartment. Suddenly, we were all better than Paul again, so he decided to step his game up.

He started making paper cartridges that would explode open once fired. Suddenly, he could actually fire multiple times a minute, which meant once again, he was at the top. It didn’t help that our reluctance to shoot back out of fear of getting shot was allowing him to take his time, therefore drastically improving his aim.

So we stepped up again. I smooth out the cocking mechanism on my guns, improving my firing speed even faster. Eric adds more weight to his darts, making them heavier and faster and much more painful. Kyle buys a bigger battery, newer parts, and he perfects his belts, which increases his firing speed to 12 darts a second.

So Paul steps up to take advantage of his improved aim and buys something called a Pucker Chucker which basically is a t-shirt cannon except it shoots foam pucks. This means we can’t just shoot at him from the other side of the apartment anymore, so we all step up again. I modify the rail on top to make aiming easier, Eric modifies his grip to make it more comfortable, Kyle and brad modify their barrels to make them more accurate, and Josh jumps on board the crazy train and builds a goddamn under barrel cherry bomb launcher.

And this is where shit starts to spiral out of control.

Brad starts making smoke grenades, Kyle solves his weakness against close quarters combat by using his battery to create a cattle prod to keep people back. Eric breaks the head off an old golf club to use the shaft as a weapon, I put pins in the tips of all of my darts, and Paul realizes that the Pucker Chucker can also shoot real hockey pucks after he steals my bucket of pucks from my room.

So it escalated a couple more steps but I’m going to leave them out partially out of a desire to keep moving forward and partially out of shame anywhoozle when we pull out our final contraptions and modifications that day we shifted from light-hearted fun that was a bit too far to literally combat. Josh had a sword. I don’t know where he got it from.

That battle was terrifying. Our normal fights were like an hour, two hours tops, then we would clean up, get together in the living room with some beers, and laugh about what happened. Honestly we should have known this was going to happen because when we did this after our previous fight, the laughter was less “haha remember when I shot Josh in the butthole? Classic.” and more “haha remember when I missed your face with that puck? Next time I won’t miss.

So we somehow get into a battle again and this time things go south quickly which is bound to happen when you have a dude in a speedo swinging a sword around while rolling fireworks down the hall. It was literally chaos. There were fireworks and homemade smoke grenades and Kyle made the electrical current in his cattle prod too strong and it was too close to the muzzle of his Vulcan so every few seconds you would just see a flaming dart wiz past and I built a fucking flamethrower and I don’t know what the fuck is going on so I’m just firing it in the general direction of Josh to keep him the fuck away. At some point Brad barricades himself in his room, and so we all run back to our rooms and hide.

We do this for three days. THREE DAYS. I missed classes. We all had junk food in our rooms, and private bathrooms, so that’s what we sustained ourselves on for three fucking days. I, however, try to eat healthy, so I ran out of food almost immediately. After not eating for a day and a half, with food literally less than 50 feet from where I was hiding, I decided that I was willing to risk a trip to the kitchen.

So here’s something important about our apartment: I was the only one who knew how to cook. I had tried to teach the others, but all that had accomplished was several kitchen fires. This meant when Eric also ran out of food, he knew the only way to get a meal was to make peace with me. So he had snuck down the hall to my door, intent on asking me for help.

I did not know he was there.

So when I opened the door and saw a crouching figure in the shadows nearby, I assumed, I think justifiably, that it was the guy who had been swinging a sword at all of us the last time I saw him. So I pulled the trigger on my homemade flamethrower, only to see Eric’s horrified face illuminated by the flames for a split second before they hit his torso.

Luckily, I was using a scavenged fuel source (computer screen cleaner), so the flames were weak, but still fire is fire and fire fucking hurts. So Eric is rolling on the floor with first degree burns on his stomach and chest, and I’m freaking out because Eric is my friend and I just set him on fire, so there is now a lot of screaming coming from the hall.

Now, to lighten the mood slightly, here’s a personality test. You hear the sounds of fire, followed shortly by screaming coming from the hall outside your room. What do you do?

Do you assume the crazy sword guy has finally snapped and is going to kill you all, so you climb out the window onto the fire escape? Congratulations, you’re Brad.

Do you hear the cries of pain and grab a first aid kit before sprinting into the hall to help? Hey! You’re Kyle!

Do you hear the flames so you sprint into the kitchen to grab the fire extinguisher? You are Paul.

Do you come out into the hall to see what’s going on but also bring your sword just in case you have to stab someone? You are Josh and also mentally unstable please put your sword away.

So Kyle comes out and he and I start administering first aid and luckily through a combination of the weakness of my fuel source, how quickly I stopped the flames, and the quickness of our treatments, Eric only gets some first degree burns on his torso. Paul puts out the last of the flames, Josh decides he doesn’t want to stab anyone today, and Brad decides that the lack of screaming is a good thing and he comes inside. I spend the next hour apologizing profusely while cooking everyone dinner, and we decide that hey we should probably have some rules for our Nerf fights to prevent this from ever happening again.

So we all eat, we establish rules about modifications and ammunition, and at the end of it all, we grab some beers, head into the living room, and tell Josh he needs to get rid of the sword seriously dude where did you get that from?

✨Stay afraid but do it anyway.✨

And perhaps I’m a little touchy on the subject and maybe I hold Carrie a little too dear to my heart, but the reason I do is because Carrie Fisher helped me realize I was mentally ill.

Oh I knew I was crazy, in the same vague way you worry that you’ve left the stove on at home, despite not having cooked yourself a meal in weeks because you’re too depressed to eat a proper meal. (Except you don’t call it that, you call it “laziness” and maybe try and convince yourself it’s a new diet called “whatever requires the least amount of effort to put calories into my face”.)

Something was “off” inside my head, but no one seemed to care about it too much. Even when they threw me into eating rehab for a perceived eating disorder—despite lacking several of the vital criteria on the checklist to have typical eating disordered behavior—no one gave too much of a shit. I was just a girl who was “too nervous”, “too in touch with my emotions”, “too fragile”, I was “attention seeking”. And their remedy to this was ignore me and wonder why I crashed and burned at regular intervals, blame me for being selfish, then go back to not giving a fuck until it inconvenienced their life again.

I was crazy. But maybe I wasn’t. Maybe if I just tried harder…so I learned to cope. I became the one who Coped. I was There For Everyone. I became Reliable and above all else, I learned to be Funny and make It funny.

My mother still hates that. She thinks it’s crass for women to be funny. Personally I think I’m fucking hysterical, but then what do I know, I’m fucking nuts.

Later, now with hindsight and being able to look at my life from a safe(-r) mindset surrounded by people who care and want to help, I realize that what I was going through was (and is) untreated PTSD. Whether or not the PTSD caused the other issues, like the depression, the anxiety, the compulsive behaviors or the ADHD I think I might have, I don’t know. I likely will never know, because the Thing happened and shot my still developing child brain into a million tiny fragmented pieces of unparalleled terror and poor coping mechanisms. It doesn’t really matter at this point, all that matters is dealing with all of it as best as I can, however I can. But there’s a very real chance I might never have gotten to this stage if I hadn’t found out that Princess Leia, my childhood icon who helped me feel brave and strong while my world was ending, had written a book about living with mental health issues.

I wasn’t sure what to expect from it to be honest. I knew vaguely, that Carrie Fisher had issues. The word “junkie” had been used by my father—while unironically taking a drink from his self-medicating poison of choice and my mother tutted and tisked about how some people just ought to pull themselves together

Ten, maybe twelve minutes into the book locked away in my room, I can’t even tell you anymore whether I was crying because I was laughing so hard or if I was laughing because I was crying my heart out, but I was having a fucking revelation.

This was me, holy shit this was me, this was me, this was me, an unboken mantra in my head pounding to the beat of my heart, this was me, this is me—I do exist.

That’s a weird thought to have, right? I do exist. 

It wasn’t, “I’m normal”, because normal is not this. It’s not feeling like your mind is running a million miles a second in circles while simultaneously wading uphill through treacle and juggling chainsaws while trying to keep all your Life Plates spinning and oh gods someone just handed you a kitten to look after. What it is however, is fairly common, and suffered with varying degrees of severity by a rather sizable chunk of the world’s population. I mean, who knew? I sure as shit didn’t. I thought it was all in my head.

You know what I mean.

I’m told some people get up in the mornings and go through their entire day without once having an intrusive thought or struggling to do basic shit like take a shower and manage to remember to feed themselves. I know, seems fake right? It certainly does to me.

And here was Carrie, my Princess Leia, laying out her issues past, present and probable future, in what remains one of the funniest, most brutal attempts at self-lobotomy on paper I have ever had the privilege to read. I consumed that book in mere hours, I devoured her words and breathed them in like inhaling steam in a sauna and breathing out fire in their wake and moved onto her next book, then her next, then her next, and by then there was this blessed thing called Twitter and it should be impossible to be hilarious and poignant through 140 emojis or less, but that was the kind of brilliant she was. And this was me, this was someone like me. And she was witty and brilliant and funny and yes, things were difficult for her and yes, some parts of her life were an absolute clusterfuck of mistakes, addiction and general all round fuckery leading up to that point…but she was still there, y’know? She was still there.

And it breaks my heart a little every day, knowing that I’ll never be able to tell her how important that was to me. And to thank her for it.

So instead I try to pay it forward. Every day, from one day to the next, I try to be a little kinder, a little brighter—a little more like Our Lady Carrie—and throw two loving sparkly middle fingers up at the world that tries to stamp out and demonize the notion that mentally ill people like me, like you, exist. 

And we deserve to exist, and more than that, we deserve to be treated with human fucking decency.

And if you are of a mind that the latest news surrounding Carrie’s death means that she was any lesser of a vital energy force in this world, that she mattered less, that her words were less important or that she “deserved” to die because they found drugs in her autopsy report, it is with my profound and heartfelt best wishes, that I invite you to cordially:

✨🖕✨🖕✨🖕✨ Go Fuck Yourself ✨🖕✨🖕✨🖕✨

Don’t bother to RSVP.

anonymous asked:

Please bombard me with Pining Sherlock fics. I need some.

You asked for it, you got it Nonny! This is literally my favourite trope in the entirety of existence. I have a tonne of fics, and I’m still sorting all of my bookmarks, so I probably still have more to add. I had SO MANY TO PUT ON THIS LIST, that I had to remove links to the authors, because Tumblr kept deleting all my links. So yes, over 150 fics here below, all from mostly Sherlock’s POV (@holmesthesociopath, this should help with your ask as well until I finish the list of Sherlock POV fics for you)!

Because I’ve been working on this list for over 6 months, please advise me of any broken links and I will do my best to find them again for you!

Get ready to have your face ripped off 🙃

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customer satisfaction

Originally posted by shitohsehun

woozi x reader smut

20,480 words

a/n: my first woozi fic, my first seventeen fic, my first kpop fic. this was supposed to be something really simple and silly, but my dumb ass had to go and add a bunch of sadness and backstory to it, as always. as you can see, it got dramatically out of hand. i’m so sorry, i hope someone likes it

~ in which you haven’t gotten off in like six months, and lee jihoon is the pleasure specialist, himself. (he’s also a little bit more than that.)


     “I promise you, you won’t regret this,” Wendy reassured you, but they were words she always said right before she convinced you to do something that you definitely would regret. She’d used them very often over the past year, during which she’d somehow persuaded you into going on roughly thirty blind dates that she’d set up in her desperate attempts to get you “back out there.” You knew her heart was in the right place, but every single date had been a disaster. 

     The problem was that if she knew a guy who wasn’t already taken, there was a reason for it. The first set-up been with a guy named Jinho who still lived with his ex-girlfriend (in a one bedroom apartment) and adamantly refused to wear deodorant; one guy, Jinwoo, told you he had recently quit his job and moved back in with his parents because he hadn’t had enough time to play League; you’d tried so hard to will yourself to forget the second to last guy, but how could you forget the name (Daehyun) of someone who sat down across from you and proceeded to ignore you for the whole two hours it took him to eat a salad, baked potato, and two steaks before “suddenly realizing” he forgot his wallet, telling you he didn’t think you were his type, and leaving you to foot the bill.

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Dragon Boyfriend

Dragon boyfriend got a ton of anon votes! But @jasura requested a dragon love first, so this request goes out to you! I think I can’t possibly keep getting better, but each new monster brings out something special. Keep requests coming guys!


   You wake up, groaning as you lift yourself. Your head is throbbing and your vision is blurry for a few moments. The room comes into focus and you stare out across a cavern filled with gold and jewels and treasures beyond measure. Your breath catches in your throat and you remember what happened before you fell unconscious.

   A dragon had attacked the castle, you were charged with protecting the princess and making sure she made it to the catacombs of the castle. But in her typical fashion, the princess refused and insisted she stay in her room with all her finery. She screamed and kicked, punching you several times when you told her that her chambers were not safe. She told you the catacombs were filthy and unfit for her, but you were more than welcome to go into the catacombs and stay, considering you were just a walking corpse to her anyways.

   She made it to her room, locking you out and yelling insults at you until the ceiling caved in. After that you’re unsure what happened, you don’t know the fate of the castle or the princess but part of you is certain she was crushed to death. Then again, you were almost certain you were crushed as well. Instead, you find yourself placed in the center of the dragon’s hoard.

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The Time of Our Lives (Steven Moffat’s final DWM Column)

You know something I don’t know. You know who the next Doctor is. At least, I think that will be out by the time you read this. Old Chibs (as he must always now be known) is playing his cards close to his chest, and won’t tell me a thing. I attempted to give him some sage advice on the subject of secrecy, but he gave me a look, as if to say, “Seriously, have you checked your own record on this??” and had me removed by security. Again. But it’s comfy here, in my skip in the Roath Lock car park, and Russell is good company. When we’re both not crying, that is.

Actually, I’m not comfy at all. I’ve got everything crossed. Can Old Chibs pull it off? Can we actually have a new Doctor that’s a proper surprise, the way it’s supposed to be? I do hope so! But you know all that by now, out there, in the glorious new dawn.

And the fact is, I have no more news for you. Barely any secrets to keep. One more Special on Christmas Day, and I’ll be gone before the end credits. A brand-new team will go blazing into action, and in the far future, vast new Andrew Pixley Archives will form in the void.

But frankly, even I don’t care about me - this is all about Peter Capaldi. I saw him at the end, you know. The very last shot you see of him as the Doctor is in fact (brilliant scheduling by amazing producer, Pete Bennett) the very last thing Peter did on the show. Just as popping out the TARDIS and confusing Strax was the very first thing he did in Deep Breath, all those centuries ago. Since then he’s faced down a Mummy on the Orient Express, talked down a Zygon war using a couple of empty boxes, punched a wall for four and a half billion years, misunderstood the romantic intent of a puddle, decked a racist, insulted Santa, had a 24-year date in a restaurant, and played gooseberry when Missy met herself. He’s been gentle and fierce and rude and kind, and now with a wave of his hand and a flap of his cuff, he’s striding into the sunset to give it a piece of his mind. Be there for him on Christmas Day - Scotland’s finest in his final hour. He’ll break your heart and save your galaxy, all over again.

It was funny, that last day. I was in the studio for most of it, which is the first time I’ve ever managed that on Doctor Who. Normally, there’s so much else to do - new season to plan, new scripts to write, new stars to find. But now, with my time on the show winding down, with desks falling empty, and computers falling silent, and endless rounds of goodbye drinks, there’s nowhere else for me to be.

Brian Minchin is here today. And we sit and laugh and chat, and marvel at Peter’s extraordinary final performance. Every take is different and beautiful in a new way, and how the hell are we supposed to choose just one? It’s not goodbye to Brian, I’m delighted to say - he’s joining me and Sue at Hartswood Films, and we have dark and mighty plans.
Rachel Talalay, our finale specialist, is directing. She’s come back to see number 12 off into the shades but I very much hope she’ll be directing more Doctor Whos in the future. She keeps hinting that she won’t, though.

“You’re already directing the new one - you’re doing the regeneration!”
“Yes, but apart from that.”
“You probably know who the new Doctor is, and everything!”
“No, I don’t”
“You had a secret dinner with Matt Strevens and Old Chibs!”
“It wasn’t secret!”
“Well, I didn’t know about it.”
“No-one thought to tell you, it was just for people who are… you know…”
“What?”
“Involved.”

I was alright after a bit, and the nurse with the oxygen was very nice.

“Who’s the new Doctor?” I demanded to know from my stretcher, mostly in hand signals.
“I don’t know,” lied Rachel, probably.
“Just the initials.”
“I don’t know.”
“Will you tell me if I cry?”
“You’re already crying.”
“… Would you like ten pounds?”

There’s another goodbye coming up - and frankly it’s right here. My old friend, the wise and kind King of Numbers himself, Tom Spilsbury, is leaving this magazine. It’s funny, we’ve done almost everything in parallel in Doctor Who. He was assistant editor on the mag, while I was an occasional writer for Russell’s era. He became editor only shortly before I became showrunner. And now, at the end, we’re tumbling out the door together. We’ve tumbled out of quite a few doors together, but I’m damned if I’m telling you which pubs. Once a month, for so many years, Tom would remind me that this column was due. No, that’s a lie. He’d remind me several times a month. Towards the end, in a very high voice, with crying. Well, no more! These days are over. Tom’s entirely brilliant era of DWM is drawing to a close with every word you read, my time on Doctor Who is vanishing like breath on a mirror, and this column too is about to pop out of existence.

It’s funny how things you take for granted just disappear, isn’t it? That school you went to every day and then never go back to, that friend you part from laughing and never see again, all those doors that click behind you without you knowing they’re closing forever. I first wrote Doctor Who in 2004, and I very much hoped I’d get to write it again. Then I wrote more, and then so much more, until I thought it might go on forever. I remember at some awards dinner, telling Brian I loved my job so much I couldn’t imagine ever stopping. In other more melancholy moments I knew that everything ends and wondered what the very last words I’d ever write about Doctor Who would be. Well, the time has come, and here they are.

All my love, good luck and goodbye.

My take on the “Neil dies in Baltimore” au:

Here’s a list of reasons why Andrew is considering death-by-FBI-agent-who-won’t-shut-up:

  1. Neil is dead.
  2. Neil obviously knew he was going to die, since he made sure to break his contract with Andrew.
  3. He didn’t catch the strain in Neil’s voice when he said “You were amazing” until later, when it was too late.
  4. Now that it’s too late, he can’t stop hearing it. That little waver, like it meant more than it was saying, which now he knows it was but he was too fucking dense to realize it.
  5. Even after the disappearance, even after hours of nothing and then the FBI call and Kevin’s stupid confession and stupid throat (which he fully intends to come back to crushing later), Neil was alive.
  6. But not long enough for them to reach the hospital.

And now here they are, in the hospital lobby, being talked down to by an idiot in a suit trying to make excuses for why the FBI needs his body.

“He is ours,” Dan growls. Actually growls. “You said his father is dead now, and his mother’s been dead for years, so that means we’re his closest family.”

But all Agent Dick dous is raise an eyebrow. “How do you know that Mary Wesninski is dead?” It has the clearly desired effect of shutting Dan up. There are a thousand innocent answers to that question, but they’re Foxes. Nobody ever gives them the benefit of the doubt.

“We need to conduct a full autopsy, get a clearer picture of what was done to him. We’ll hand him over to you post-cremation.”

Matt shakes his head. “Not good enough.”

“You all need to get this into your heads: Neil Josten isn’t real and never was. He was a halfway decent cover that, honestly, probably would’ve been passable if he hadn’t thrown caution to the wind time and again over the past year. He was playing a part, and now he’s dead, and those are the facts.”

Andrew is aware that they’re talking about a corpse, but that complete disregard for who Neil was makes him want to rip out the man’s throat. Anger colors his vision red, but it’s better this way. Because as soon as the red leaves, the gray will settle in, and it will never, ever go away.

“Here’s another fact,” Agent Dick continues. “People don’t spend months in close company of others without letting something slip. So I’m going to need all of you to come in and te—”

“That’s enough, Agent Browning,” a new voice calls to them. A second later, a woman appears next to the agent, towering over him by a good half a foot. “Say another word to them and I’ll personally make sure that anything they say becomes inadmissible in court.” She turns to the Foxes. “Hi, sorry, I’m Ms. Waters. I was — still is, technically — Nathaniel’s lawyer.”

Kevin’s face goes ashy, likely imagining the worst. “He was here for six hours before dying. Why the hell would he need a lawyer?”

Ms. Waters pulls out several small white envelopes by way of response. “Because he didn’t trust Agent Chucklehead over hear to not open these before you recieved them.” She hands each Fox their own envelope, with their name written on the front in Neil’s familiar scrawl. Wymack doesn’t get an envelope.

It makes Andrew’s chest ache and his heart boil, and he doesn’t trust himself to speak. He knows what’s inside that letter: a sequel and an epilogue. All of Neil’s bullshit sap wrapped in a promise that he’ll never have it again. He doesn’t even know wether he wants to read it or tear it into a million pieces. Probably both.

“—two requests,” it takes Andrew a second to register that Ms. Waters is talking again. “That you read your letters in private, and that you destroy them after reading. Preferably with fire.” She smiles at their confused stares and nods at Agent Dick. “Browning here is a man of many words, but he spends very few eandearing himself to others. Nathaniel was likely afraid that he would try to read them.

“In any case, I’ll be in touch soon. Nathaniel left a great deal behind, and while the FBI can scramble over his past, it’s my job to sort out his present, and that means you.” She gives Wymack a teal business card. “In case you need me urgently, in the case I don’t contact you first. Now run along, you were all injured and in need of rest.”


The bus ride back to Palmetto is silent, but nobody is asleep. Like Andrew, they all sit on their individual benches, staring at their letters, trying to decide wether they wan’t to know or not. Is it an explanation? Apology? Questions too big for the heart to ask or recieve an answer to.

In the end, it’s Nicky who breaks the silence. “I know he said to read them alone, but… anybody want to open their’s with me? I just. I can’t. Not alone. Not on this.”

There’s silence again, but then Renee comes to sit next to Nicky, and then Allison, and the next thing he knows he, Kevin, and Aaron are the only ones not crowded together in a massive group hug. There’s sniffling, then a countdown from three, and the sound of several envelopes tearing and pages unfolding. And then silence again.

And then.

And then.

Dan’s been captain of the Foxes for years, but Andrew doesn’t think he’s ever heard her yell that loudly as her ARE YOU SHITTING ME vibrates throughout the bus. The rest of the Foxes are quick to follow with their own sounds of anger and disbelief.

It’s when Nicky starts laughing hysterically that Andrew finally succumbs to his curiousity and opens the letter, skimming over the words.

Andrew is going to fucking kill that boy when he gets his hands on him.
Mister Hockey and the boy crying in the kitchen

(complete version)

Alternate Universe where Bitty is a figure skater at Samwell. He and Jack meet for the first time at #Epikegster 2014.

warning labels: Alcohol, mentioned homophobia, Parse. 


 Jack went down the stairs with a huff of annoyance. The first floor of the Haus was packed from wall to wall. Loup thumping music, laughter and yells that were barely tolerable from his room now seemed almost tangible, crushing him from all sides. He could already feel the beginnings of a headache.

 He pushed his way through and managed to reach the kitchen unscated. Only three guys were sitting at the table, loudly debating Plato’s cavern versus the Matrix, and another was leaning on the counter near the stove, muttering to himself.

Jack opened a cupboard, swore under his breath when he saw that it was empty of their usual mugs, glasses and bottles. He took a new red solo cup from the enormous pack available to all, and filled it with tap water, trying to ignore the guys at the table.

 ‘…aren’t you the most precious thing, baby…’

 Jack turned around. The guy next to the oven was muttering endearments with a southern drawl- but there was no one next to him. He wasn’t even holding a phone.

 Jack had a doubt. Was the guy talking to him?

 ‘Yes, you are lovely, a bit old, but I would love you, and take care of you, and create glorious things with you, oh sweetheart, if only…’

 The guy was not talking to Jack. He was talking to the oven.

 He was also, apparently, completely drunk.

 ‘… better things than pizza rolls, you can be sure of that, you sexy thing…’

 Jack was a moment away from heading back to his room when he heard a sob.

 ‘… but it’s not to be, pretty thing, you and I will have to go our own separate ways and- sniffle- get with our own lonely lives and - oh lord, I’m being ridiculous-’

 ‘Huh-’ started Jack. ‘Are you okay?’

 The guy turned around. He looked older than Jack expected. At least, he seemed to be over eighteen. Jack only had an impression of eyes and blond before he got the drunkest and fakest smile he ever saw in his life.

 ‘HI!’ said the boy. ‘Gosh, you’re big.’

‘… are you okay?’ repeated Jack.

 ‘Why, yes, of course! I’m peachy!’

 ‘You’re crying.’

 The guy seemed surprised by this fact. He dried his tears with the sleeve of his hoodie and made a dismissive gesture with his other hand.

 ‘Don’t mind me, sweetheart, I’m being silly.’

 ‘…You were crying,’ insisted Jack. ‘And talking to the oven.’

 ‘Well, no one else seemed to give her love, so I figured-’

 He stopped himself and looked at Jack.

 ‘You’re the Captain of the hockey team,’ he realised. ‘This is your house. This is your oven.’

 ‘…Yes? In a manner of speaking?’

 ‘What’s her name?’

 ‘Whose name?’

 ‘The OVEN,’ insisted the guy.

 ‘She- it doesn’t have a name?’

 ‘Blasphemy. If I had the chance to own such a lovely baby, I would name her something adorable! Like Daisy, or Betsy, and I would bake everyday, I would make pies and cookies and biscuits and-’

 He burst into tears.

 Jack threw a look around. The guys at the table were staring at them.

 ‘Dude, what’d you do to him?’

 ‘Nothing!’

 ‘D’you break up with him or something?’

 ‘No! We just met! He was talking about the oven- and then- and then-’

 He made a helpless motion towards the crying boy.

 ‘Maybe you should do something about it?’ suggested one of them.

 ‘Like what?’

 ‘Dunno. Something. To make him stop crying.’

 Jack hesitated. He thought about retreating to the safety of his room, where the music didn’t hurt his ears and blonde strangers didn’t burst into tears at the sight of a kitchen appliance.

 Awkwardly, he lifted a hand and patted the guy’s shoulder.

 ‘…there, there,’ he muttered, feeling like the most ridiculous man on Earth.

 He got several thumbs ups from the table residents. Which didn’t help his predicament at all. The boy was still crying.

 ‘Hey, hey, shh, don’t cry, everything is going to be okay…’

 ‘You don’t know that!’ wailed the blonde boy.

 ‘Okay, you’re right. Maybe, huh, what could make it right?’

 ‘I want to BAAAAAAAAAKE!’


(more under the cut!)

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Late Night Snacks and Underwear - 1

Fandom: Marvel’s Avengers

Summary:  Y/N and Peter run into each other late one night.

Words: 1,000 on the dot

Paring/Characters: PeterParkerxStark!Reader, Mentions of the other avengers

Warning: Mentions of partial nudity? Awkward Peetie?

Author’s Note: So, I have a lot more written for this one, but I’ve never written Peter before so I wasn’t sure if anyone would be interested. Let me know I guess and I can keep this one going for a little.


Originally posted by peterparkerimagine

“Toothbrush!” You exclaimed to yourself and immediately clamped a hand over your mouth. You almost slipped on the wood floor in your fuzzy socks as you hushed your packing revelation. Everyone else was asleep and you’d never hear the end of it if you woke them up, especially with the early morning coming.

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You once said that a step towards recovery means I’ll need to break myself into pieces, darling I’ve been trying to put my heart back together. I like to step on myself sometimes, I don’t take compliments well because I don’t think too highly of myself. When you step on the same lego piece everyday even your ego starts to melt a little. You once said that if I find someone to hold my thoughts before I hold their heart– then maybe she’s the one. Or maybe there’s no one out there, who knows, right? We can circle around this a little longer than always, but I’ll always run back to the why. Why do I want to conquer my memories? Each city that I’ve built for them inside of my head is still bright and I’ve not let a single light bulb blow out, I’m so out of it– while thoughtlessly I’ve been reaching out of my head, my heart likes to beat me to it. It says that love can only be achieved if I chase after it. You once said that I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. Do you still believe in those words? Because if I’m not cruel to myself, I could be cruel to someone else. If I read enough books, do you think I’d finally own a chapter in my own life? If I open up some more, will I close off opportunities for myself to the prospect of loving myself? And what about them? Vanity is my master and I’m a slave. It’s okay to be a little vain sometimes, right? I’ve got it in my veins, maybe I’m the only honest one. You once said that if I trip over the same rock and stub my toe a million times within a week, you’d still say it’s okay. Like falling requires gravity to bend to my whispers. Like drowning demands my lies to swim back to shore. Like dying seeps through my eyes, how can I love if all I’ve got is missing pieces? You once said that a river flows like time and if I’m out of seconds– you’ll just record your voice saying I love you until I finally get it. I remember everything that love has to offer, but never the person. I remember the feeling of infection that is affection. And if I walk alone and get hit by a car, maybe it’s just another story that I won’t write. Some words live in between the lines, I’ve been seeing dualities. Life and death is just a kiss and hug. Black and white, storms and clouds are just pears and apples. Poetry and prose likes to sound sweet, but it’s the bitter bits of me that’s suicidal. Love and hate was born from strangers, so you never knew the difference between the moon and the sun– the lightness of tomorrow likes to coat the darkness of past days. Cigarettes and lung cancer, a dance of smoke that disguises itself as stress free, do you think I’ll die healthy? Drugs and my body, which one will make me feel better if I’ve been sweating for a week? You once said that we’re spinning around in a circle just waiting for someone to stop by– grab my attention and you can have my voice, steal from my hands and you can have my poems, which hurts more to have loved or to not have loved at all? An empty silence that’s so full of itself– I can’t hear myself think inside of my own head. I’ve got file cabinets tagged under read later, but I’m a sucker for love– so I feed into it. You once said if the sky breaks into a brighter day, you’ll be there. That is wishful thinking, my favorite kind. Words can’t give meaning to our story, but we still write. You once said that it has to mean something. Every statement paused long enough for several lifetimes to become real again. It feels like such a long time, but we’re still in love with them in there somewhere. It’s buried. It’s in a coffin, but it’s there and we know it. We can hear it. We can hear it. Fuck, we can hear it. That little beating that isn’t ours, it’s always theirs. And that’s my fear, you once said that maybe that’s my fate– I’m supposed to cling onto that strand of innocence, of who I used to be, to remember what it feels like to feel, it has to mean something. Giving meaning to nothing, my favorite pastime. Giving something to someone, the only way that I’ve been living. You once said that until I learn to keep more for myself, I’ll always end up in square one– alone, but as long as I’ve got you, it’s not true, right? Some thoughts like to sleep alone, that’s not one of them. Hold onto that piece of us, the poetic storm that is joy. Keep your kindness to a burn, a stretched out sunrise screaming your name is my simmer. I know about nothing and that’s my one redeeming quality. I know that I don’t know shit, and that’s why I write like this. I know that I don’t love like I used to, and that’s why I love like this. I know that I’m not the same person from last year, and that’s why my guilt likes to trip up. I know that I’m no longer in love with her, but I can’t seem to explain the empty feeling unless I spell her name backwards under a star somewhere that I can’t touch. I know that I’m still messed up, but I’m just taking advantage of my youth. You once said some people will get over you in a week, but it’ll take you a lifetime to get over someone. If forever is a drug then I’ve overdosed. If always is a lie then I’ll take the beautiful. If never is more and a secret is sore– then I’m sorry about the words that didn’t stop, I am trying. I am always trying. You once said that if we kiss the ocean long enough, the mountains will answer. I’ve buried my love letters on the highest mountain and emptied my heart into my art. If I live long enough to spread my wings, do you think I’d still be condemned? Life is too short to live in the past, but I can’t stop asking about my what ifs. Love is too long to just be over, but I’ll just keep painting over it with a new layer of red. If you’re still reading, then I’m still writing. This yin and yang battle of ours has no meaning. Tortured souls live in the canvas and I’ve seen enough chains– I shall be unbound someday. You once said I love you– darling, that’s the only fucking truth that I believe in. You once said that soulmates aren’t always lovers– I guess it’s just you. You once said that flowers don’t just bloom, they wilt– so I guess I’m just withered. You once said that if you had your way, I’d own the universe. You don’t get it. When you became my best friend, I got it.
—  You once said
You Didn’t Have to Lie!  [ A.A ] - Part 1

Pairing: Archie Andrews x Reader

Summary: Archie and you have just gotten into a massive fight which leaves the both of you very heartbroken. You see each other in the halls of the school but have never had the guts to confront one another since that night. 

Word Count: 1420

Warnings: Quite a bit of angst

A/N: I’ll probably end up doing a part two to this but like only if anybody wants me to lmao. Anyways, this is super duper angsty and I don’t know why I enjoyed writing this so much woops.

Italics are memories 

Part Two

You would see him from across the hall every now and then, his eyes flickering everywhere but the spot against the wall where you always stood and waited for him after class. He knew you still waited there for your other friends and he also knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold himself away if he even glanced at you for a simple second.

It wasn’t something that you didn’t see. You knew he was ignoring you ever since that night together in your bedroom. He lied to you and crushed your heart to pieces but you still couldn’t stand that he had the nerve to ignore you after the things that he had said to you.

None of the things he had said were completely true. He spoke his mind yet he managed to still say the wrong thing. As soon as he had arrived home alone and frustrated, his throat hurting from the argument that he had sparked between the two of you, he realized just how much he didn’t know about himself.

He didn’t know that he does love you and that he does need you. He finally noticed that he let himself go too far with the lies that he had told you. It took him too long to realize that he loves you. More than anything and anyone else in this world which the both of you live in.

But by the time he had finally come to his senses, it was too late.

Archie was too scared to confront you about what had happened between the two of you. He knew better than anything that he really screwed up and he really just wanted to fix things and go back to how it was before that retched argument.

“Okay, Arch,” you say, a devious smirk gracing your lips. Your head rested on his lap and he sat with his back against the head of your bed. You were playing an impossibly childish game of truth or truth while stuffing your faces with Oreos. Locks of his red hair fell over his forehead, almost covering his eyes and his lips were locked into a lazy smile. You were happier than ever and more content than you had ever felt before. “What was the worst lie you ever told?”

“I-uh-” Archie knew that technically, he didn’t have to spill what his worst fib was, but he knew it had to come out sooner or later. It wasn’t a small thing; it was important. His blood runs cold as he contemplates whether or not he should just say the truth. He didn’t blame himself until now–until it was time for him to give up on a lie that he had been telling for several months. A lie that he didn’t have the guts to come clean about.

He had been lying to you about something bigger than he thought up until then. He knew that it would hurt you and that’s why he never told. He never told because he was scared to. Because, you were the least deserving person and you were nothing but the kindest most golden hearted person that he had ever met in his life and he didn’t want to be the one to break your heart. Archie couldn’t recall why he had lied to you in the first place–he couldn’t remember why even when he tried his hardest to do so.

“Archie,” You whine, your eyelids lifting to meet his own. You repeat your question, “What was the worst lie you ever told?”

“I love you.”

“Oh,” You mutter, pushing yourself up onto your elbows. Your voice was smaller than he had ever heard and you were now by his side instead of on his lap. “To who? If you don’t mind me asking.”

His heart dropped at the look on your face. You were oblivious. Innocent. And he instantly regretting letting the words leave his mouth. But he knew that it was time for him to come clean. It was certain that he did feel something for you–it just wasn’t what he led you to think.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Archie mumbles, “but it was you.”

“What?”

“I did not fall in love with you. I fell in love with the people we could be, the conversations we could have had, the desire of everything that could happen between us. I fell in love with the idea that someone like me would fall in love with someone like you. But I did not fall in love with you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me then?” You were getting angrier and flustered and more confused by the second. It was as if your heart was a glass and you could feel every crack and vibration as it shatters against the hard truth. “Why did you lie and tell me you love me? Why didn’t you just stop and tell me instead of lying to my face every single day?!”

Archie winced at the tone of your voice mixed with the tears that were beginning to fall down your cheeks. He took a deep breath.

“I-I’m so-”

“Don’t lie, Archie,” You mutter, “please, no more of it.”

You’re stood up when he’s finally able to say something.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to-”

“Oh, don’t give me that, Archie,” You interrupt him, running a hand through your hair. He frowns, pushing himself off of the bed so that he’s standing in front of you.

“I made a mistake! I didn’t mean any of it any of the times I said it and I’m sorry but none of it was real! Like I said, I wasn’t in love with you, I was in love with the idea of us–”

“You didn’t have to lie!” You almost scream, thankful that your parents were out of the house.

“Can you just let me speak?!” Archie breaks, his voice rising and his breaths becoming quick and short. He was flustered and angry and guilty and pissed off at the same time. “God, you’re so annoying!”

“Bloody hell, Archie!” You yell, resisting the urge to reach up and just slap him. You were shaking as you stared at him with a look more broken than describable. Of course, Archie didn’t mean it. It was only a spur of the moment sentence, just like the one that leaves your own mouth, “You–you can’t be serious Archie! I wish you could just stop being such an asshole!”

Neither of you say anything for the next couple of minutes, the tension between the two of you was enough to be sliced into quarters. Archie didn’t know what was happening and neither did you. He loved you, he really did. He just didn’t know how much. Archie had lied at the start, yes, but he didn’t realise that the more he said those three words to you, the more he meant it.

Curses and insults flew out of both of your mouths once more, the both of you almost drenched in tears. Archie had never cried like this in his life nor has he ever felt so much pain. He was pretty much convinced that he didn’t love you, so why was he hurting so much?

The temperature in the room had risen soon before the two of you had found yourselves in front of your front door. Archie stood stubbornly in the doorway, his hands in fists by his side. He didn’t want to lose you because even if he thought he didn’t love you, he cared about you more than he’d even admit to himself.

“Do you remember when you promised me we’d always be together–when you promised me that I was the one you loved most?” You murmur, your voice suddenly calm. It was filled with pain and hurt and it tore at Archie’s chest. “Because I remember when I thought you meant it.”

And with that, you pushed him backwards with gentle force and slammed the door shut.

Archie didn’t fail to notice you watching him. In fact, his mind was running wild because of it. He stopped short of his tracks, mumbling a quick excuse to get away from the people surrounding him. With long strides, he made his way towards you, desperately trying not to get offended by the panicked expression on your face.

He was going to fix things, for the sake of the love and passion that his heart held. For the love and passion that he could only feel for you.

Inside the super-sized Glee reunion on The Flash-Supergirl musical crossover

Darren Criss is singing his heart out. Grant Gustin and Melissa Benoist are tap dancing. “It’s literally a Glee episode,” Gustin jokes. No, the Fox series hasn’t been revived. The trio are actually reuniting for the first time since their days on the Emmy-nominated hit series for a different kind of musical — and Criss may finally get his revenge.

His Glee character, Blaine Anderson, received a slushy facial from Gustin’s Sebastian Smythe back in 2012, but now the tables have turned, with Criss assuming the mantle of the dastardly DC Comics villain Music Meister in the highly anticipated Flash/Supergirl musical crossover. “It is funny that the last time I worked with Grant, he was the bad guy and he was singing at me, and now I’m the bad guy singing at him,” Criss says. Though it’s a different set, with the quick turnaround and prep, Criss concurs that this all feels familiar. “It’s just Glee,” he says.

In the March 21 episode of The Flash, Barry (Gustin) and Kara (Benoist) find themselves trapped in a movie musical of the Meister’s creation — an hour that has been years in the making. “We’ve always talked about doing it, from the very beginning, more in a joking way,” says executive producer Andrew Kreisberg. Gustin, however, was initially curious. “I didn’t ever think it would be a real thing, so when they told me it was real, I was like, ‘How?!‘”

Here’s how: As the Scarlet Speedster and Girl of Steel experience turmoil in their interpersonal relationships, they’re whammied by the Music Meister, a less mustache-twirling, more manipulative villain who causes victims to break into song. The character was famously voiced by Neil Patrick Harris in the Batman: The Brave and the Bold animated series. “I have made a pretty decent career of only taking over roles as made famous by child stars,” jokes Criss, who also played the titular wizard in the Harry Potter musical.

“I could not be happier that he’s here,” gushes Benoist, whose Glee character Marley Rose was mentored by Blaine. “He’s killing this role. He’s bringing such a fun energy, the way he did on Glee as well.”

Being fans of movie musicals as kids, the power-stripped heroes end up trapped in a golden-age send-up involving rival gangs and their kids falling in love — though expect many of the couples to come with a twist. The only way out? Follow the Meister’s script till the end. It may be a prison to them, but it’s heaven to Benoist. Noting she was born in the wrong era, the actress takes delight in the vintage ambience while sitting on a ’40s-era nightclub set. “Not that I don’t love the [Supergirl] suit, but it just feels good playing the same character in a completely different setting,” she says. “I’m eating this up.”

The Glee alums aren’t the only big names attached to the special episode. In a nod to Kara’s favorite film Wizard of Oz, everyone else in the vocally impressive cast is playing a character within this movie, from Jesse L. Martin, Victor Garber, and John Barrowman as rival mob bosses to Jeremy Jordan’s club pianist and Carlos Valdes’ aspiring artist busboy. Cherry-picking the movie musical genre — West Side Story, Singing in the Rain, and Guys and Dolls among the show’s inspirations — the hour also features some original songs, including “Runnin’ Home to You” from Oscar-winning La La Land duo Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, as well as the bubbly and playful Rachel Bloom co-penned tap duet “Super Friend.” “It’s a goofy song and it’s very consistent with that style of Crazy Ex-Girlfriend,” Gustin says.

“We were approached by Rachel Bloom, who reached out to us and she really wanted to write a song for us,” Kreisberg explains. “And Greg [Berlanti] had a relationship with Pasek and Paul, so we sat down with them — we hadn’t even seen La La Land with them, but Greg had been such huge fans of theirs.”

The episode also includes several covers, among them the Benoist solo “Moon River,” and an ensemble performance of Jackie DeShannon’s “Put a Little Love in Your Heart” that brings the denizens of the ’40s nightclub to their feet as the Meister conducts Jordan, Valdes, and John Barrowman in an epic, upbeat dance number choreographed by Glee’s Zachary Woodlee. “Some things are just star-crossed,” Valdes says of his two worlds — superheroes and musicals — colliding. “Some things are just destined and written in the stars. This felt like one of those instances where it was just something that was going to happen.”

Jordan concurs: “Ever since they announced the cast of our show — plus the casts of Flash and other shows having so many musical theater people in them — it was only a matter of time before they harnessed those talents and made something into it.”

All involved have unquestionable talents when it comes to singing, but Barrowman says the DeShannon piece doesn’t play to his strengths: “I’m exceptionally confident vocally, but they show me the dance steps and I’m not a hip-hopper, no way,” says Barrowman, who practices his moves on set between takes. “I panicked.” Still, Barrowman was determined to be involved once he learned of the crossover. “I hadn’t heard anything and I just basically then said, ‘I think you would be daft or stupid not to have me in this, really,‘” he says. “But they planned on it all along.”

On the flip side, Gustin says he was excited about slipping back into his dance shoes. “More than anything else, my true foundation was tap dance,” the actor says. “It’s been cool to get back to it.” Adds Benoist: “It’s funny how things stay in your muscle memory. It was fun to pick it back up again and see your body and be like, ‘Oh, we remember how to do this.'”

With everyone in one room, Barrowman admits, “I’m a bit fan-boying out to be honest,” explaining that he watched his castmates’ former projects Glee and Smash. “What a nerd,” Jordan responds upon hearing the news. “He plays it super cool backstage, so you wouldn’t know he was geeking out.”

Beyond Glee, the hour marks an even bigger reunion as Gustin and Supergirl‘s Chris Wood — who, along with co-star David Harewood, will guest in the crossover, but not sing — went to school together, while Criss counts Valdes, Pasek, and Paul as classmates. “It’s been a very sentimental crossover on so many levels,” Criss says. “Every day, every scene my mind is being blown. I can’t believe I’m here with Melissa Benoist and Carlos Valdes. ‘How do you guys even know each other? Oh, that’s right, you’re both superheroes!'”

Fun fact: Another classmate of theirs, Andy Mientus, also previously played a villain on The Flash, with Criss joking it’s about damn time he appeared in the Berlanti-verse. “I was wondering why everybody else I knew had been on the show but me,” Criss says with a laugh. In truth, Kreisberg says Criss was destined to play this role. “Darren so brings him to life,” the EP says. “I’m not sure who we would have gotten to do it if Darren had said no, but it turned out to be one of those things where we wanted Darren and Darren actually wanted the part. It was very kismet.”

Should the crossover prove successful, Kreisberg even has hopes for a sequel, and Criss would be elated to return to the wild, wild world of singing superheroes. “I would have liked to have written some songs,” quips the actor and musician, who landed the role too late in the process to do so. “I want to come back, I’m not done — then I’ll have my true payback!” Watch out, Flash!

The musical crossover will kick off at the end of Supergirl‘s March 20 hour, with the majority of the action taking place during The Flash‘s March 21 episode, both airing at 8 p.m. ET on The CW.

Half-Sister, All Burden

Dean x Sam x Reader

Reader (Adam’s sister) living with Sam and Dean in the bunker. Dean hates the reader but she made the ultimate sacrifice for him.

Warning: Character Death, Abuse

Tags: @imascreamerbabymakemeamute

Half-Sister, All Burden Part 1

Part 2 

“I am sorry guys, I didn’t think that the vampire would …” I said

“You didn’t think? You almost killed Sam!” Dean yelled.

I looked down, afraid of looking into Dean’s disappointed eyes. This was my worse nightmare ever since I started hunting with my half-brothers Sam and Dean. I was afraid that one day I would get one of them killed.

“Dean, it’s not her fault! She almost got killed too!” Sam tried to reason with Dean.

“Better her than you.” Dean said under his breath. Sam did not hear it but I did. Dean thought that I did not hear it because he rushed to help Sam into a chair to check his injuries. Sam had a rather ugly cut on his abdomen.

“CASS!! We need you here!” Dean yells. A slight flutter of wings and the angel appeared. Cass did not ask questions and went straight to healing Sam. I looked at them and realized one thing. They were the original trio. Two brothers and an angel. I was just a burden that they had to bear. After Adam and mom died, they took me in because “I was family.” Honestly, they did it because the felt guilty for leaving Adam in the cage with Lucifer.

I rushed into my room before either of them saw the tears in my eyes. It hurt, knowing that I was a burden and that I was not wanted there. I walked into my room, shut the door and collapsed onto the floor. There was a sharp pain on my thigh where I fell into some broken glass. I slowly got off the floor and started taking off my jeans. I bit my lips to stop myself from yelling out in pain.

There was long gnash on my thigh. I guessed the adrenaline kept me from feeling the pain. Suddenly, the room started to spin. The next thing I know, I was on the floor and then, there was darkness.

My eyes opened slowly. It was like in the movies where the unconscious person slowly regains consciousness. Everything went from blurry to HD in about five seconds and three blinks of the eye. I was on my bed. It smelt like it. I heard some awful yelling only to realize that Sam and Dean were having a full blown argument just five feet away from me. I closed my eyes and pretended I was still asleep.

“She is nothing more than a burden. If she had told us she was hurt, none of this would be necessary!” Dean yelled.

“Dean, you were too worried about rubbing her mistake into her face to even check her for injuries. This is your fault Dean!” Sam replied, slightly agitated.

“She almost got you killed Sam! What was I supposed to do? You are my brother! She is nothing more than dad’s bastard of a daughter!” Dean said.

“You are just jealous because she had a normal life and you did not! Face it Dean, she is our sister! We are supposed to be loving brothers.” Sam argued. Dean said nothing more and stormed out. I heard Sam pull a chair and the next thing I knew, he was holding my hand.

“Y/N, I know we have not been the best brothers in the world. I am so sorry. I should have have taken better care of you when Dean did not. In some ways, I understand you, being the younger one. But don’t worry. It will all change now. I promise, you won’t ever be a burden to us.” Sam said.

I decided that it was time that I “woke up,” so I, channeled my inner actress and faked my awakening. I made sure I blinked a couple of times, moved around slowly and moaned in pain. I opened my eyes and saw a teary eyed Sam in front of me. Sam had a big smile on his face.

“You are awake, are you alright?” asked Sam.

“I am fine, what happened?” I asked.

“Well, you were hurt. There was a huge cut on your thigh. It was worse than my injury. Why didn’t you tell me or Dean?” He asked.

“I didn’t want to be a burden, sorry. I thought I could handle it myself. I am so sorry.” I said almost crying.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t apologize. You did not do anything wrong alright. You are not a burden. If anything, you are a gift to us. Don’t tell Dean, but I have always wanted a younger sister.” Sam said.

“I won’t tell Dean. Thank you Sam.” I said.

“Call me Sammy, like Dean does.” Sam said, holding my hand.

“Okay Sammy, I love you.” I said hesitantly.

“I love you to sissy. Get some rest, I will bring you food later.” Sam said. Sam stood up, gave me a kiss on my forehead and left my room. I felt a little better and for the first time, I felt like I was loved. I rolled over and slept with a smile on my face.

After that incident, Sam and I had become closer. He and I would spend hours reading books together in the library. He convinced Dean that I could stay in the bunker and provide information to them while they were on hunts. It proved to be a good idea as I helped them crack a few of their hard cases. Sam was very proud of me and would tell me so.

Dean on the other hand was different. He started to treat me worse. He would only talk to me because Sam was in the room. When Sam was not around, he would ignore me completely. I figured that I could not be too greedy. I assumed that Dean was jealous that I was spending more time with Sam. He made sure that there were always out on cases so I would have less time with Sam. Sam realized what he was doing but did not confront him.

“Y/N, we found a case. It is in Michigan.” Sam said while standing outside my room door.

“What? But you guys just got back yesterday. Don’t you guys need to rest and recover?” I asked. Honestly, I just wanted some quality time with Sam. I missed him while he went on hunts.

“I know sissy, but Dean says that it is important and there were no other hunters around to help.” he said, looking at me sadly.

“Well, I guess that can’t be helped. I missed you though.” I said. Sam came in a sat beside me on the bed.

“I know that Dean has been doing this because he is jealous that we are together so much. I should have said something, I am sorry baby.” Sam said. He only called me baby when he wanted to make sure I did not get angry.

“I know too. Don’t worry. He is your brother first. I come second. I am okay with it, as long as both of you come back in one piece. Contrary to what you may think, I do love Dean too. I love him like how I loved daddy. Dean is a lot like daddy.

“Baby, I promise I will talk to Dean about this alright. I also promise to make sure Dean and I come back in one piece. I love you so much.” Sam said, giving me a big hug.

“I love you both, my big brothers!” I said, returning the hug.

“We’ll be back in a couple of days. We will check in every night and whenever we need too. Behave!” Dean said, standing outside my door. Sam huffed in frustration and turned toward Dean to say something but I replied before he could.

“Yes Dean, I will. Don’t worry about me.” I said. Sam turned around me and he mouthed an apology to me. He stood up and followed Dean. I took a deep breath and looked around my room. Another few days of being alone.

I spent the next few days cleaning the bunker. I washed all the bed sheets, deep cleansed the kitchen and dusted the place. When I wasn’t cleaning, I was knee deep in the lore, trying to help Sam and Dean with the up and coming monster.

After I had identified the monster, I went back to bed. It was already midnight and I was exhausted from all the work. I slept well, knowing my brothers will be back the next day. Around four in the morning, I received a call from Sam. I immediately panicked. I was worried something had happen to either of them.

“Sam! What’s wrong?” I asked. My heart was racing.

“It’s Dean, he got hurt bad. He might not make it.” said Sam. His voice was breaking.

“Where you you guys? I will be there as soon as I can.” I said. I got up and started stripping off my pajamas.

“Michigan General Hospital, drive safe sissy.” Sam said. I was heartbroken. I could sense that if Dean died, Sam would be devastated. I wished that it was me that was dying. Then, an idea hit me. I knew what I had to do.

“Sam, don’t worry. Dean will pull through. I promise you.” I said before hanging up.

There was only one way to save Dean. I put on my clothes, collected several items and then left. I was scared of what I was about to do. But I was more afraid of losing Dean.

“Hello darlin, what do I owe the pleasure?” Crowley asked.

“My brother, Dean. Save him.” I said.

“What are you willing to offer, my sweet young thing?” Crowley asked, stroking my cheek. I looked in Crowley’s eyes and sensed some sympathy, well, enough for the King of Hell.

“Anything.” I said. The next thing I knew, Crowley’s lips were on mine.

I walked in the hospital and saw Sam and Dean in the hallway. I ran straight towards Dean and gave him a big hug. The next thing I knew, I was violently pulled away from Dean.

“This is all your fault!” Dean yelled at me.

“What? I don’t understand!” I said. Did he know about the deal that I made?  

“If you had done your research, I would not have gotten hurt.” he said. Then, Sam yanked me away from Dean and into his arms. He held me close to himself.

“Dean, it is not her fault. We all did research and came up with the same conclusion. Don’t pin this on her, you selfish bastard!” Sam yelled at Dean. Sam then took my hand and pulled me out with him.

“Where the hell do you think you are going?” Dean asked.

“I am riding with Y/N!” Sam yelled back. I tried to stop Sam but he was too strong for me. I let him pull me out of the hospital. Sam opened the passenger seat door and gently shoved me inside the car. He then went around and got in the driver’s seat. We were on the road in five seconds.

It has been three weeks since Sam left Dean in Michigan. It has been an incredibly stressful week for all three of us. Sam and Dean were talking more these day, it seems like they have solved their issues. Sam has been extra loving to me. He spent more time with me. I took full advantage of it, knowing I only had a week before my time was up.

I yelled Sam’s name. No answer. I walked out to his room. He was not there. I checked the kitchen and then the library, no one but Dean. I walked in slowly. Dean was having a beer, at 10 a.m. It did not look good.

“Dean, where is Sam?” I asked.

“None of your business.” Dean said, gulping down the beer. Normally, I would have apologized and walked away. But since I only had days left, I figured that I should know the truth to why he hates me so much. I pulled a chair and sat in front of him.

“Why do you hate me so much Dean?” I asked, looking straight into his eyes.

“I don’t hate you. Why do you think I do?” Dean asked, looking away. I was furious. He was trying so hard to hide his hate for me. I made a deal to save his life and he won’t even look at me.

“Really? Ever since I you found out about me, you have treated me like shit. I tried everything I could to please you. I saved your… I am sorry that your duo became a trio. I am sorry dad did not treat you like he treated Adam and I. I am sorry I had a mother and you did not. But this is not a reason for you to just pretend I did not exist!” I yelled.

“Fine! I hate you! I hate that you had a better life with dad than me. I hate that you just barged into our lives and made us responsible for you. Most of all, I hate that you took Sammy away from me. You are nothing but a burden. You should have never been with us. If I could, I would put you in the cage with Lucifer!” Dean said. I was shocked. I did not know his hate had run so deep.

“Maybe your wish would come true.” I said. I stood up and walked out of the library.

That night, I wanted to spend the whole night with Sam. It would be my last night with my beloved brother. I would miss him the most. I faked being afraid of a nightmare to get him to stay with me. We spent the whole night talking and laughing. Sam finally slept beside me. I was awake. I spent about an hour watching him sleep. That was how I wanted to remember my brother, peaceful and happy.

Finally, I slowly got out of the bed so Sam would not wake up. I changed my clothes. I took one of Sam’s flannel and tied it around my waist. That way, I would have something of Sam’s with me. Then, I took Dean’s shirt and I wore it. I now have both of my brothers with me. I was ready for the consequence of the deal.

I walked out of the bunker. Outside, Crowley was already waiting for me. He saw the tears in my eyes.  I thought I saw him hesitate. Then he clicked his finger and we left.

Being in the cage with Lucifer was absolute hell. He was exactly how Sam described but ten times worse. He would fill my head with lies. He only mentally abused me. Apparently, Lucifer was a gentleman and would not hit a woman. That was the only good thing going for me. I was to be Lucifer’s punching bag. It keeps him from attacking the rest of hell. This went on for a long time.

— Sam’s POV

It has been almost five years since Y/N left. Dean and I have searched high and low for her. Nothing. I was devastated. Dean was sad too but somehow, I felt that he was hiding something. I never got to confronting him because I was afraid that he will leave me too. Fast forward to now, where I have to be in the cage with Lucifer to get him to work together with God.

I am afraid that Y/N is in hell. We found and killed a few crossroads demon before Crowley came and told us to “go to hell” when we asked if Y/N made a deal. I could have sworn that he knew something about Y/N. I did not press the issue. Part of me was afraid of what I would find out. The other part of me just missed her.

Now, I am about to be transported into Lucifer’s cage. I was nervous. I shook that feeling away and nodded to Crowley. He seemed a little hesitant but he motioned for Rowena to start the spell. In an instant, I was in the cage with Lucifer. He smiled at me and pointed behind me. I looked behind me, there was no one. Then I looked down and I saw her. My sister was in the cage.

I rushed to her. She seemed unharmed. There was no bruises on her body. I noticed that she was wearing Dean’s favorite t-shirt that he lost and on her waist, my flannel. I shook her and tried to wake her up. She did not move an inch. I turned around to Lucifer and was pushed down.

“Now, now, let’s not get antsy. I know you have many questions, but one at a time please.” Lucifer said with a smile on his face.

“What is she doing here?” I asked.

“She made a deal with dear ol’ Crowley. Simple as that.” Lucifer said.

“But why would she make a deal? We weren’t dying or anything. Sure we were hurt but both of us was not injured to the point of death except… Dean.” I said, looking down at my poor sister. I was mortified.

“Yup, dear sister made a deal to save her brother’s life. How touching. That is actually the reason why I was so nice to her. She knew what it felt to be abandoned by a loved one. The same way God forsook me, Dean forsook her.” Lucifer said.

I knelt down and held my sister’s body to my own. I felt the tears filling my eyes. I was filled with guilt and anger. I was angry at myself and Dean not knowing that she made a deal. I was guilty of not confronting Dean about mistreating her. I felt like a failure. I had failed my only sister.

“Enough of this sappy feelings. Let’s bring the guilty party into this court! I shall be the judge this time.” Lucifer said as he snapped his fingers.


“Dean Winchester! How do you plead?” asked Lucifer.

Mister Hockey and the boy crying in the kitchen


Here’s the first part of a fic- AU where Bitty and Jack meet for the first time at the EpicKegster. 

Note that the second part of this is not written yet, and I’m crushed under my to-do list, so don’t expect it soon and please don’t ask when the next part will come, I don’t know. But I wanted to share this with y’all, so I hope you enjoy. 

I apologise for errors, typos or weird sentence structure, all my editing power is and will be concentrated on my own novel, so ha. 

pairings and warnings: pretty much what you get from the canon





Jack went down the stairs with a huff of annoyance. The first floor of the Haus was packed from wall to wall. Loud thumping music, laughter and yells that were barely tolerable from his room now seemed almost tangible, crushing him from all sides. He could already feel the beginnings of a headache.

He pushed his way through and managed to reach the kitchen unscathed. Only three guys were sitting at the table, loudly debating Plato’s cavern versus the Matrix, and another was leaning on the counter near the stove, muttering to himself.

Jack opened a cupboard, swore under his breath when he saw that it was empty of their usual mugs, glasses and bottles. He took a new red solo cup from the enormous pack available to all, and filled it with tap water, trying to ignore the guys at the table.

‘…aren’t you the most precious thing, baby…’

Jack turned around. The guy next to the oven was muttering endearments with a southern drawl- but there was no one next to him. He wasn’t even holding his phone.

Jack had a doubt. Was the guy talking to him?

‘Yes, you are lovely, a bit old, but I would love you, and take care of you, and create glorious things with you, oh sweetheart, if only…’

The guy was not talking to Jack. He was talking to the oven.

He was also, apparently, completely drunk.

‘… better things than pizza rolls, you can be sure of that, you sexy thing…’

Jack was a moment away from heading back to his room when he heard a sob.

‘… but it’s not to be, pretty thing, you and I will have to go our own separate ways and- sniffle- get with our own lonely lives and - oh lord, I’m being ridiculous-’

‘Huh-’ started Jack. ‘Are you okay?’

The guy turned around. He looked older than Jack expected. At least, he seemed to be over eighteen. Jack only had an impression of eyes and blond before he got the drunkest and fakest smile he ever saw in his life.

‘HI!’ said the boy. ‘Gosh, you’re big.’

‘… are you okay?’ repeated Jack.

‘Why, yes, of course! I’m peachy!’

‘You’re crying.’

The guy seemed surprised by this fact. He dried his tears with the sleeve of his hoodie and made a dismissive gesture with his other hand.

‘Don’t mind me, sweetheart, I’m being silly.’

‘…You were crying,’ insisted Jack. ‘And talking to the oven.’

‘Well, no one else seemed to give her love, so I figured-’

He stopped himself and looked at Jack.

‘You’re the Captain of the hockey team,’ he realised. ‘This is your house. This is your oven.’

‘…Yes? In a manner of speaking?’

‘What’s her name?’

‘Whose name?’

‘The OVEN,’ insisted the guy.

‘She- it doesn’t have a name?’

‘Blasphemy. If I had the chance to own such a lovely baby, I would name her something adorable! Like Daisy, or Betsy, and I would bake everyday, I would make pies and cookies and biscuits and-’

He burst into tears.

Jack threw a look around. The guys at the table were staring at them.

‘Dude, what’d’you do to him?’

‘Nothing!’

‘D’you break up with him or something?’

‘No! We just met! He was talking about the oven- and then- and then-’

He made a helpless motion towards the crying boy.

‘Maybe you should do something about it?’ suggested one of them.

‘Like what?’

‘Dunno. Something. To make him stop crying.’

Jack hesitated. He thought about retreating to the safety of his room, where the music didn’t hurt his ears and blonde strangers didn’t burst into tears at the sight of a kitchen appliance.

Awkwardly, he lifted a hand and patted the guy’s shoulder.

‘…there, there,’ he muttered, feeling like the most ridiculous man on Earth.

He got several thumbs ups from the table residents. Which didn’t help his predicament at all. The boy was still crying.

‘Hey, hey, shh, don’t cry, everything is going to be okay…’

‘You don’t know that!’ wailed the blonde boy.

‘Okay, you’re right. Maybe, huh, what could make it right?’

‘I want to BAAAAAAAAAKE!’

Keep reading

2

I SUPPOSE IT’S MY FAULT

Black Hat x Dr. Flug

A/N: Paperhat! I’ve had a few requests for this, so here’s my first one! This is the 800 follower long awaited Paperhat fiC! Don’t worry, I have more in the works x)&.
This idea has totally been done before, but I like it and I thought it would be a nice way to start off writing for these two.

.

“Dr. Flug!!”

At the mention of his name Flug could feel his blood pressure rising. “Just don’t do anything especially stupid, and this will all go fine.” He told himself mentally, turning to face Black Hat.

The man looked at him impatiently, wanting quickly to get this interaction over with and get away from Flug as soon as possible. Something about the scientist made Black Hat feel…off. Yes, that was the best way to describe the sudden rush of instability that came his way whenever Flug approached him.

“Y-Yes, Jefecito?” Flug asked hesitantly, somehow maintaining eye contact with the taller man. Black Hat scowled down at him.

“Is that new device I asked for ready yet?” He asked, squinting his eyes over at Flug’s work bench where parts were scattered about haphazardly. Clearly the answer was “no”.

“Y-you only asked for it y-yesterday, S-sir.” Flug replied, already preparing for the bodily harm that always followed not meeting Black Hat’s expectations. Flug stayed up for most of the night, only breaking to grab some coffee, to produce the basics of the ray assigned to him the afternoon previous.

“How disappointing…” Black Hat growled, something inside of him holding his hand back from striking the poor scientist, “I’ll be back after I’ve had my breakfast, and you will not disappoint me again. Got it, Flug?”

Black Hat raised his hand threateningly as he spoke. The scared scientist simply nodded through the whimpering before his boss stalked out of the room. Flug sighed. It was impossible to do as Black Hat asked in such a short time, but Flug began work anyway.

However, several days without sleep began to take their toll. The world grew dark as Flug struggled to keep his eyes open, even to sit up on his chair. He attempted standing, but soon the bagged man collapsed onto the floor, unconscious, his body forcing him to rest. Parts of the device had fallen with him, and he still had a screw driver in one hand.

Black Hat returned to the lab an hour later, rather upset that he would have to endure his own unrecognized emotions again so quickly. He couldn’t see Flug at first when he entered the lab, and for a moment presumed the Doctor was hiding.

“No…Even he’s not that stupid.” Black Hat mumbled to himself, dismissing the thought and heading over to the work bench. His eyes widened slightly when he saw Flug collapsed on the ground.

Dead?

No, Flug was breathing and Black Hat could hear Flug’s heart still pumping blood through his body.

But why did just the idea frighten him?

The temptation to become angry arose quickly in the tall demon, but soon was dismissed when Black Hat took a moment to think. When was the last time Flug slept? Within the past two weeks, Black Hat couldn’t remember seeing the doctor outside of his lab, and come to think of it, the Doctor’s room had sounded consistently vacant for a while now whenever he passed by it.

“You haven’t been sleeping.” Black Hat grumbled out loud, “I suppose it’s my fault, then?”

Of course, Flug didn’t respond. However Black Hat began to realize how especially difficult Flug’s job had been lately, how he had been even more demanding than usual.

Did he feel…bad about it?

Black Hat sighed and picked up his employee. Despite being overworked, Flug still had a pleasant smell to him, clean, much like the lab was. Black Hat brought Flug to his room, marked with an airplane on the door.

The room was simple, with just a few pictures on a dresser, a computer that sat on a simple desk, along with some papers covered in scribbles, diagrams, and notes; a few other pieces of furniture lines the walls; posters of airplanes were all around. Flug’s bed was next to the desk and Black Hat set him down quietly, pulling a blanket over him.

He stared at the doctor a little longer, not entirely sure as to why. Black Hat didn’t want to leave right away, so for a while he sat in the desk chair next to Flug’s bed, watching the man sleep.

When he left the room, Black Hat closed the door quietly behind him before turning to see Demencia staring at him. She blinked a few times then raised her eye brows. Black Hat…being nice to Flug? Whaaaat?

“Unhealthy employees are not effective.” Black Hat said, turning so Demencia couldn’t see his blush, “Dead ones are even worse.”

Apparently satisfied, Demencia shrugged and wandered away. Black Hat had said those things more to himself than anyone.

Surely, he wasn’t going soft…surely not.

But when he looked back at Flug’s door after only a few steps down the hall, he couldn’t fool himself anymore.

I’d Live Them All The Same

Hello mates! You know I love angst, and, well, it just happened to be Angst Appreciation Day today, so yeah ;)

Characters: Older sister Winchester!reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester [mentioned], other members of the Winchester/Campbell family. 

Words: 2400+

Warnings: Broken reader, implied depression, just overall bad mental health. If you think about what Sam and Dean’s been through, it’s not far of a stretch from the show, but just know that it’s angsty (not the most angsty thing I’ve written though, sorry.)

A/N: I feel like I got a positive response to some of my older sister stuff I did a while back, and I also just got some older sister angst feels, so yeah, here you go. Also, there’s a couple of paragraphs (and title) taken from this song: Circles (MNG Remix) - Eden Project. If you want, listen to it while reading this, it builds up the angst ;)

Originally posted by kendaspntwd

Your name: submit What is this?

If I told you how this story end,

Would you change a step you take?

And if I could relive all of my days,

I’d live them all the same.

‘cause I’m scared, of all that I don’t know,

'cause I want it all but all of it ain’t gold.

And I’m scared, but I know it’s not for long

'cause I’m learning what I should’ve long before.


You sat on the carpet clad floor of the dark motel room, right by the door. It was the middle of the night, but it wasn’t not quiet — your brothers’ steady breaths filled the room, filled you up with calmness. You clutched the shotgun tighter, and the cold metal of the barrel your hands were wrapped around was slowly getting warmer by the heat you were exuding. You’re 24 years old and you’re the protector of this family. Always had been, and always will be.

Keep reading

Looking At You (Post CACW Winteriron)(Part One)

Welcome to the story! I am honestly so excited to share this one with you. Winteriron is my FAVORITE, and even though this story will be sad and hard to read in some spots, I hope you all love it like I do.

Check out additional Chapters HERE

I tagged everyone who liked/reblogged the post yesterday, but if you would like to be taken off the list please just let me know. If you would like to be tagged in updates, just like or reblog for me!

Enjoy :)
*********************

Prologue
***************
“Hey, Tony can I–”

“Jesus.” The plate Tony was holding shattered across the kitchen floor when it slipped through his fingers. “Jesus, Steve sorry about that. Sorry.”

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” Steve said with a frown, and Tony just shook his head.

“It’s fine. Just lost a little in my head is all.” He bent down to start cleaning up the mess.

“Let me hel–”

“I got it.” Tony waved him away. “What can I do for you, Captain?”

“Well, I was thinking maybe you could take a look at Bucky’s arm? It’s been freezing up or not flexing or something and it’s hurting him quite a bit. I told him you’d be happy to help him with it.”

Happy to help–” Tony cleared his throat. “That’s fine. But I’m busy, so send him to Banner. He’s got access to everything in the lab anyway.”

“I was hoping you would–”

“I’m busy, Steve.” Tony wiped his hands on his pants and raised his eyebrows. “Banner is smarter than me anyway, he will find a fix faster than I can. Sorry, I just can’t right now. Sorry.”

“Uh, okay. I’ll just take him to Banner then.” Steve sent him an odd look, but turned and left anyway, and Tony sank down into a chair, sitting on his hands so it wasn’t quite as obvious they were shaking.
*******************
“Sorry, Clint, uh, you guys, I didn’t realize you were in here.” Tony did an abrupt about face and headed right back out of the room, and Clint raised his eyebrows.

“Tony. It’s not a problem.”

“I don’t want to intrude.” Tony held up his hands peacefully and Natasha narrowed her eyes at him.

“Since when do you care if you are intruding, just come in and sit down. It’s called a common area, Stark.”

“Lay off.” Sam sent her a sharp glance. “You don’t have to say everything like it’s an insult.”

“Excuse me?” Natasha’s voice rose the slightest bit and Tony coughed loudly.

“Hey, it’s all fine. Let’s not fight okay? No worries, no harm no foul. I know she doesn’t mean anything by it, it’s fine. All I needed was my tablet, it’s just there on the end table, I’ll just grab it.”

“Here, Tony.” Sam tossed it to him and Tony caught it, but just barely, bringing it down to his side before anyone noticed the slip.

“Ok. Ok thanks guys. See ya. Sorry again.” He turned and left, trying to slow his breathing down a little.

He hated when they fought.

Keep reading

Crazy in Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Word Count: 2476
Warnings: Fluff, slight angst

Summary: You’re injured on a mission, taking a bullet for your best friend Bucky, but your relationship is on rocky waters after you confessed your feelings for him and he did not respond.

A/N: This is my submission for  @just-some-drabbles 4k follower Rom-Com Challenge. Congrats JSD <3 My prompt was  #18 “People do crazy things when they’re in love.”  gif not mine, source (x)

Sunday is your favorite day of the week. It’s the only day Steve isn’t on everyone’s case to wake up early and train and you take full advantage of that. You loved sleeping in; your favorite part was waking up at a reasonable time and then rolling over again, throwing the blankets over your head to sleep some more. Your bed was comfortable and inviting. It was so inviting that a certain team member had found his way into your bed more than once.

Keep reading

Night Routine

My night routine was always more extensive then Harry’s ever was or will ever be. I can’t even count the times Harry has complained over the years about me taking to long to get into bed.

“Come on babe, wearing your makeup to bed once wont kill you!” Or

“Petal come cuddle I’m going to die of loneliness!”

Did this ever make me go any faster? No, but it did make me smile and my heart swell just a little bit.

A little bit ago we got home from Interviews. Interview days were good and bad. Good because they weren’t too hectic and I got to be with Harry. The bad part was I was with Harry but couldn’t talk to him.

After getting done with some work of my own around 10:30 P.M I decided the start getting ready for bed. Swiftly I shut my laptop and sat it down on the couch beside me. Harry was sitting on the other couch across from me writing on several different pieces of papers. Not sure what they were, music I assume.

I stand up, stretch my arms up above my head, and letting out a little yawn.

“Where ya goin’ bug?” Harry asked briefly looking up from the papers in his hands.

“I finished my work so I’m gonna get ready for bed.” I say going over and kissing him on the forehead.

“Okay, I’ll be up in a minute, I’m almost done.” Harry says softly before turning right back to the papers.

I lightly pout. When I don’t walk away Harry looks up at me.

“Somethin’ else?” He asks then looks back at the papers.

I get right in front of him, take the papers out of his hands, and set them beside him on the couch.

Immediately Harry snaps his head up. He’s about to say something but I cut him off.

I bring my hand down to the collar of his shirt and lightly tug.

Harry’s face breaks into a dimpled smile.

“I jus bout forgot din I?” He ask with a smirk tugging at his lips.

Quickly Harry pulled the shirt over his head and handed it to me.

I tilted his chin up towards me and kissed his lips.

“Thank you babe.” I say then head to our bedrooms bathroom.

Ever since we started dating I always loved to wear Harry’s clothes but especially after he wore them. If he ever wore a casual t shirt all day, then that night I’d want to wear it because it smelt like him.

Once I got into the bathroom I changed into his shirt and clean underwear. Throwing my hair into a bun I quickly wash my face and brush my teeth. I don’t think I take too long getting ready for bed, Harry just always washes his face and brushes his teeth right after dinner. Also he is a very impatient booger.

In the middle of brushing my teeth I look in the mirror and can see Harry lying on the bed more thank likely just in boxers, under the blanket. His left hand is behind his head while is right props his phone up on his chest scrolling through who knows what. Probably Instagram even though the boy never uses it.

When I get done I turn the bathroom light and head towards the bed.

Harry sees the light go off out of the corner of his eye and locks his phone setting it on his bedside table. Then he looks up at me and out stretches his arms.

“Come ere’ bugs, I’ve missed you.”

I giggle but do as he says, laying my head on his chest and his right arm wraps around me and lightly kisses me on top of my head.

“Harry we’ve spent the whole day together.” I say smiling and lightly kissing his chest.

Instantly his fingers start running through my hair.

“Yeah but I’ve been doing stuff all day and besides we haven’t really been alone.”  He says still playing with my hair.

I take a deep breath in, just inhaling his wonderful scent. I know this sounds super creepy but I’ve never smelt a more wonderful smelling person in my life.

My right hand slowly traces random shapes on his bare chest. And for a while that’s all we do. No talking, just enjoying each others presence.

After a little while of doing this though I get a little bored. I needed more contact, if even possible.

I scoot up higher to where my head is now resting right by his neck. I turn my lips to wear I can kiss him. And that’s just what I do.

Anywhere my lips can reach I kiss. Lightly sucking every so often, especially behind his ear where he’s most sensitive.

I swing me leg over his body to where I’m straddling him and get to work on his other side.

Harry’s hand slide under my shirt and grab onto my hips.

“I thought we were supposed to try to go to sleep?” He asks lightly chuckling.

“Sleeps boring, I’d rather do this.” I mumble kiss up his jaw.

Suddenly I’m flipped over and Harry’s on top of me.

“Oh you don’t know what you just started.” Harry says with a smirk and wild eyes.

Lets just say we did a lot of stuff other than sleeping.

————————————-

Sorry I haven’t written in forever!! I’ve sadly had no motivation but I’m back!! Hope you liked!

I tried not to make this smutty but if y’all would like a part 2 smutty version let me know!!

quietly-quite-quaint  asked:

hello fellow hufflepuff! do you have any recs that feature lots of magical theory and/or cool adaptations to 'classical' magic? I love reading about people's interpretations of jkr's magic and taking it a step further.

Hi there Hufflepuff friend!!

YES I DO. This is one of my favorite themes! I’m very interested in magical theory and all the incredibly fascinating & creative ideas people come up with. 

Drarry + magical theory 

All Our Secrets Laid Bare by firethesound (149k)
Over the six years Draco Malfoy has been an Auror, four of his partners have turned up dead. Harry Potter is assigned as his newest partner to investigate just what is going on.
(I feel like this is the mother of magical theory fic, what with the really interesting work on dismantling Death Eater safe houses, the descriptions of Harry’s wild powerful magic vs Draco’s very controlled magic, WANDLESS magic, magical tattoos, and the everyday work and practices of the Auror force.)

and Hope to Die by olimakiella (24k)
Strategically placed pieces of Wizarding artwork are going missing in the United Kingdom. Only, when the dots are connected to a darker plot, Harry learns that there are classified places in the Ministry that only few people get to see. And just what the hell is the Centre of Magical Intelligence anyway?
(I LOVE the idea of Draco running his own department that deals with creating and managing magical inventions and spells for the Ministry. He has a sentient ball of blue light named Blue following him around. Lots of cool things.)

Chaos Theory by Tessa Crowley (102k)
Chaos: when the present determines the future, but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future. One gene varies, one neuron fires, one butterfly flaps its wings, and Draco Malfoy’s life is completely different. Draco has always found a certain comfort in chaos. Perhaps he shouldn’t.
(Clever and brilliant are both words that accurately describe this fic. Advanced physics, chaos theory, strange attractors, mathematics, and so on, used in a magical context. The Imperius Curse… oh, and this fic will ruin your life.)

Reparations by Sara’s Girl (87k)
Harry is about to discover that the steepest learning curve comes after Healer training, and that second chances can be found in unexpected places.
(This fic is amazing in every way there is, but it also has some very cool magical theory and world-building. Namely lot of content about Healers, medical procedures, work at St Mungos, magical drugs and the treatment of addiction.)

Azoth by zeitgeistic (88k)
Now that Harry is back at Hogwarts with Hermione for 8th year, he realises that something’s missing from his life, and it either has to do with Ron, his boggart, Snape, or Malfoy. Furthermore, what, exactly, does it mean when one’s life is defined by the desire to simultaneously impress and annoy a portrait? Harry has no idea; he’s too busy trying not to be in love with Malfoy to care.
(Harry and Draco attempt to make a Philosopher’s Stone as a final project for their apprenticeships, which is super interesting. Alchemy, Animagi, advanced Potions studies, details on higher education in the magical world, and so on.)

A Thousand Beautiful Things by geoviki (104k)
Draco Malfoy struggles with changed fortunes, shifted alliances, an ugly war, and an unusual spell, with the help of a concerned professor, an insightful house-elf, and an unexpected Gryffindor friend.
(A war and post-war fic with lots and lots of great interpretations. More about Legilimency, a certain heartbreaking Spanish curse, how to handle Obliviate, as well as a very good take on Lucius Malfoy’s fanatic interest in dark magic.)

Eternally Consistent by kitsunealyc (44k)
Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter assumed they would never be anything but civil enemies, until Potter lands on Malfoy’s doorstep, bleeding, covered in curses, and acting very strangely indeed.
(Unbreakable!Draco who makes “paradox his bitch”, works with advanced physics and Arithmancy, lots of interesting things there, and time-travelling!)

House Proud by astolat (23k)
His house liked Draco Malfoy more than him.
(This author is excellent with the creative details, and this fic is my favorite of theirs. I love the insight on pureblood traditions and most especially pureblood family houses and they magic they hold. Harry moves into Grimmauld Place and the house deteriorates in protest, while it adores the ground Draco walks on.)

Secrets by Vorabiza (411k)
Beginning with Draco’s unexpected arrival at the Dursleys, Harry’s summer after sixth year becomes filled with activity and many secrets. As his summer progresses, Harry generates several unexpected allies as he finds himself actively becoming the leader of the Light side.
(Alternate version of the seventh book written before the book was released, so this has all kinds of interesting interpretations on Horcruxes, Parseltongue, defensive magic including the Interseptum spell, invisibility cloaks, house elf magic, the Chamber of Secrets, the DADA teaching position curse etc.)

Harry Potter and the Sentinel Phenomenon by elyssblair (122k)
Everything changes the summer after fifth year. Draco refuses to take the Dark Mark and must deal with leaving behind the life, friends and family he’s always known.The Dursley’s abandon Harry alone in the woods for a week, triggering his Sentinel gifts and leaving him hurting and in need of a Guide. Can two rivals put aside five years worth of antagonism in order to work together to save Hogwarts and each other?
(I’ve read this one so many times, because the love story is beautiful and the magic oh-so-fascinating. The writing isn’t its strongest point, but if you can look past that, it’s very worth it. Sentinel/guide AU, shamanism, souls wandering through different dimensions, soul bonds, all these super cool things.)

The Fall of the Veils by lettered (60k) 
This is the fic where Muggles find out about wizards, wars are fought, Apparition is abolished, political conspiracies abound, Draco is asexual, and Harry has Legilimency sex with him.
(I can’t properly put into words how much this fic breaks my heart, but it’s also really really interesting. This is the veils falling and wizardkind and magic being exposed to careless muggles. Theory on how magic actually works, details on Apparition and how to “disable” it, how muggle technology can imitate and influence magic, including wands. Lots of intriguing ideas.)

Bonus:

Transfigurations by resonant (40k)
Five years after Voldemort’s defeat, Harry returns to England to help re-open Hogwarts.
(This fic has some of the most fascinating magical theory I’ve come across, it has stayed with me for YEARS. There are traps and curses all over Hogwarts since the war and they are trying to get rid of them. We are introduced to AMAZING things such as the magic behind the Dark Marks, calligromancy, and synergy spells, as well as some cool details about spell pronunciation. I’m putting this as a bonus though since the fic unfortunately isn’t to my taste aside from the magical theory part. But to each their own, and it’s a bit of a classic I guess.)