she wiped away his tears

Happiness Is Homemade

also on Ao3

MooMaw’s kitchen is always filled with light.

It’s pouring through the windows above the sink and filtering through the blue and white checked curtains that hang above it.

Eric sits on the counter, right in the middle of a sun beam, and swings his little feet against the cabinets below as he licks brownie batter off a wooden spoon.

MooMaw has the phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear as she uses a spatula to scrape the last of the batter into the pan.

The cord stretches from the wall and Eric extends a sock covered foot out towards it and tries to touch it with his toes.

It sags before he can get to it as she steps forward and takes the spoon from him.

He only has a second to pout before she’s putting the spatula in the bowl and the bowl in his lap and ruffling his hair.

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Don’t Forget Me

Summary: Chris Evans x Reader where the reader and Chris have a daughter and she gets jealous when he starts spending time on and off set with Mckenna, and he accidentally misses an important day (as requested by anonymous)
Word count: 1,052
A/N: in the midst of my college duties/exams, you, anon, managed to inspire and motivate me me enough to make me whip this up in under a day! (Also, Frank gave me dad feels.)

Originally posted by the1goddessofpink

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Birth and Bloodletting: A Feysand Pregnancy

This insult had gone on long enough. Kier would not allow this to go on. It was one thing to let a halfbreed be his High Lord. It was one thing to let a former human be his high lady, but  these…children, these abominations that would grow and one day rule over his home, they needed to be taken care of before they grew into their power, they needed to be taken care of before they were born.


Her mate knelt to his knees, his lips brushing her stomach before kissing her, “I’ll be back, Feyre, darling. I promise, just a quick visit and then I’ll come back to you and Bartholomew and Biela. I’ve been gone for too long, they’ll start to think they are brazen enough to stage some kind of rebellion.”

She knew that, she knew that her people were growing restless and reckless. But that didn’t stop her from wanting Rhys by her side, not when she was due to give birth in less than a month. She wiped the tear from her eye, “Damned hormones.” She paused at the familiar name. “Biela? As in your sister?”


She tilted her head in thought. The sister that was taken so savagely from her mate and his family so long ago. The fierce female that she, herself, had grieved despite not knowing her. “It’s beautiful. What about Bartholomew? Why that name?”

He shrugged, “I just like it.”

She snorted, “You just like the nickname we both know you would give him.”

Rhys’s lips curled up into a smirk, his starry eyes alit with anticipation. “That may be a factor.”

“Lucky for you, that name is beautiful. Our poor son is going to be teased so much.”

He squeezed her hand, “But he will be feared and strong and cunning. Most important, he will be loved. They both will be.”

Feyre kissed him, “Take Cassian and Azriel with you. I will stay with Mor and Amren. Me and the babies will be safe.”

“I’ll take Cassian but I’m not taking Azriel. Mor is so close to giving birth, I don’t want to separate him from her, not if I don’t have to.” Mor was only a few months behind her, the pregnancy has been a bit difficult for her. Her nightmares making it hard for her to relax. “I’ll take Blake and have Nate sit with you and the others. He’ll bring Bay and Az wont feel so outnumbered.”

Of all her nephews and nieces, Nate was the one she was closest to. He shared her passion for art. His talent was true and good. Many years of perfecting his craft, Nate was magnificent in his ability to create.

“Be careful, Rhys.” She wiped away the tear on her face, these damned hormones were getting on her nerves. “I already lost Nesta and my nephew. I can’t lose my mate too.”

“You won’t,” he swore. “I promise. You will still feel me through the bond. You won’t lose me, not anytime soon.” Why did it feel like those words were a direct challenge to the Mother?


Cassian lowered to his hanches, only for Aysel’s hands to rest on his face. He took one and kissed her palm. “Be a good girl for Aunty Amren. Daddy will be back sooner than you know.”

His daughter’s lip wobbled, a sure sign he was going to get a cry sounding through his head. “Don’t cry, Baby Girl. Bay will be here too.”

Her face lit up at her brother’s name. Her arms reached up, ready for him to pick her up. Pulling her up to his hip, Cassian whispered his last goodbye before handing her to Amren. “Take care of my daughter.”

She sniffed, “No one is getting their hands on the Princess.’


Azriel surveyed his sons, Blake just came from the cabin. His shadows told him that he was there with Aurora and that Nate almost got his head bit off for retrieving him. “I would go but I need to stay with your mother and the High Lady.”

Blake’s face was smooth, the only lie to his irritation was the darkness of his son’s shadows slithering around him. “Yes sir.”

“Protect Rhys. There is something brewing in the Hewn City. I just haven’t been able to pinpoint what exactly. Protect him and protect yourself.”

“Yes sir.”


Keir turned to the others, “This will work. In order to end this insult, the High Lord needs dealt with first. He needs to be taken out of the equation. Lucky for us, we have had a benefactor who has taught us a few things about weakening his magic.” Keir’s lips stretched into a beautifully terrible smile. “Then we take out the Illyrians. They may be great, but our numbers even the odds. The whore won’t be able to help herself. She’s feel that bond go quiet and she’ll make her way to us. When she comes, I’ll cut those abominations from her stomach myself. This insult will not stand.”

The cavern of males and females of the purest blood grinned at him, thier smiles ready for the bloodletting that will finally come. Ridding their court of the half bred High Lord, the whore of a High Lady and those abominations in her womb.

It was his turn to rule.


Here’s part one, IDK how many parts there will be, I’ve been daydreaming this fic for…awhile. Please leave a comment! XO

Anything For You

Words: 856

Lance seemed to be distancing himself from his friends over the past few days, he wasn’t coming to school, he wasn’t talking to any of them, and he was refusing to answer any of their calls or texts. When Keith gets a call from him, he’s quick to do whatever he could to help his friend.

It had been almost two weeks since any of them had seen or even heard from Lance. Hunk went to his home countless times, but his mother would always say he wasn’t taking visitors and apologizing before closing the door. Pidge was constantly texting him and he never answer any of her texts. Keith called him relentlessly and he would either not answer or deny the call, which hurt the slightly younger teen more than he cared to admit. He’d leave him voicemail after voicemail, all but begging him to answer.

At this moment in time, Keith was trying to distract himself by writing a letter to his brother, Shiro, whom was overseas at the moment in the military. He jumped when his phone began to ring, the ringtone set for a specific Cuban. He scrambled to answer it, eyes wide as he stared at the picture of Lance he had set as his contact photo before quickly answer.

“L-Lance?! Where have you-”

“Keith..” Lance’s voice was broken and a shaky breath left him, sniffling on his side of the phone. Keith’s heart stopped in his chest. He was crying, Lance was crying, he hasn’t seen or even heard Lance cry since his grandmother died a while back. “Keith, I need you..” He sobbed out, his voice cracking at the end.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Keith’s answer was immediate as he got his shoes on quickly, grabbing his jacket before running down the stairs. He heard a quiet ‘thank you’ from his friend before the phone went dead. He quickly shoved it into his jeans pocket and went straight for the front door.

The drive to Lance’s home wasn’t long, though he probably got there a little faster than he normally would have seeing as he was all but speeding. Keith bolted out of the car and ran up to the house, pounding on the door. He stood straight when Mrs. McClain answered the door, blueish-grey orbs staring down at the woman. They held eye contact for a moment before she let him into the house, motioning towards the stairs.

“He’s in his room..” Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant as she closed the door behind the teen. Keith nodded and thanked her before rushing up the stairs, heading straight for Lance’s bedroom. His footsteps slowly when he passed a blank door that had once been decorated with colorful art and other things, the room he knew had belonged to Lance’s sister,  Leah. For some reason, his stomach churned. Something was off.

Approaching Lance’s door, he gently knocked on the wood. A soft ‘come in’ sounded from inside the room and Keith opened the door, slipping into the room and closing the door behind him. When he turned around, his heart sunk at the sight of his friend.

Lance had himself pressed into his corner, blue eyes looking blank, his hair a mess. There were dried tear stains going down his cheeks making it look like he had only just stopped crying. Keith didn’t waste any time, quickly approaching him and kneeling on the bed beside him, hands moving to cup his cheeks gently.

“Lance..?” His voice was soft, relieved when his friend finally looked up to look at him, body trembling slightly. In only seconds, Lance had flung himself into his friend’s larger form, arms wrapping tightly around his neck. Keith let out a startled noise, a hand moving back to support himself on the bed, the other wrapping around his waist.

“Keith…She’s gone…” Lance’s voice broke and Keith could feel his tears soaking through his shirt. He quickly tightened his arm around him, raising his other hand to gently cradle the back of his head.


“Leah!” A broken sob left the slightly older male and his hold on him tightened as he pressed closer to Keith’s slightly smaller form. Keith’s eyes widened, shock coursing through his body. The question ‘what happened’ flooded his mind, but he didn’t want to pry. Instead, he pulled Lance closer, holding him close to his chest.

“I’m so sorry..” His voice was gentle as he gently carded his fingers through Lance’s hair, something tugging at his heart at the broken sound that left his friend. He hated this. He hated seeing him crying, seeing him seem so broken. He missed his bright smile, dorky jokes, beautiful bright eyes, his laugh that sounded like music to his ears. A sob brought him out of his thoughts and he looked down at him slightly, eyes softening. “Lance..” Lance looked up at him, blue eyes glossed over with tears as they trailed down his cheeks. Keith raised a hand to gently cup his cheek, wiping the tears away with his thumb.

“She meant the world to me..” Lance’s broken voice murmured and Keith sighed softly, gently pressing their foreheads together. Lance closed his eyes, arms tightening around him slightly.

“I’ll be here for you through this, I promise..” Keith’s voice was soft and he offered his friend a soft smile. Lance looked up at him before offering a wavering smile.

“Thank you, Keith…”

“Anything for you, Lance.”

Little Ham Man (Small!Hamilsquad x Reader) Part 17

A/N: i have no words

“Are they gone?” You asked, sitting next to Thomas at the end of the slide. He nodded, looking over your shoulder. His hand brushed the skin on your neck, and you looked away, playing with your fingers. He noticed your silence.

“I, do you hate me, Y/N?” He asked, standing up. He held out his hand to yours, and you thanked him, pulling yourself off the red plastic. You wiped off your jeans.

“And why would you think that?”

He shrugged, “I have not done the most honorable things in my life. Having realized how the times have changed, I know what I did. And I know it was wrong. But,” he looked down, “It’s something that I cannot change. I came here, and all of my opinions on topics changed immediately. I don’t know how, but my mind just told me what was right and wrong.”

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Shifted - Part 6, Chapter 8

Every Tuesday I’ll be posting a chapter from my brand new AU story. The  premise is simple - what if Claire had gotten pregnant with Brianna a month or two earlier in the story, and she and Jamie had re-evaluated  their priorities and decided that the cause was lost, and they were able to slip away from the army and quietly return to Lallybroch?

Previous installments…

Part 6 - The Honeymoon

Lallybroch, Summer 1763

Chapter 8

“Found anything?”

Claire squinted up at Jamie. “No, false alarm. Still looking.” She rose from her crouch by the stream, rubbing her back and stretching her arms. “I see you had better luck, though?”

A glistening string of trout hung from his hand, swaying gently. “We willna go hungry today, that’s for sure.”

He extended his free hand to Claire, and she took it gladly. “You want to stay another day, then?”

“Aye – there’s no rush to go back, Sassenach. The bairns and house can mind themselves for a wee bit.” He squeezed her fingers, squinting into the noon sun. “You and I – we need this time. Not that we don’t get time at home, but it’s different, now, ken?”

She stroked the back of his hand with her thumb. They’d been at the cottage two full days now – two languid, heavenly days. They hadn’t spent this much time alone together since the Rising.

Claire hadn’t realized just how much she needed this time with him. No children, chores, patients, nieces and nephews, servants, or tenants to distract them.

They’d talked and talked and talked. About small things, shared memories, hopes, and dreams. Making love whenever they felt like it – near the fire, on the settle, in the grass atop Jamie’s plaid. The same plaid he had proudly worn since they arrived.

He hadn’t worn a plaid daily since Brianna was born. Seeing him in his kilt and plaid, a string of fish in one hand, the sun lighting his hair from behind, she stepped back almost twenty years.

“It’s nice to have the quiet. As long as I’ve got you to share it with.” She turned to him, and he met her smile.

“Aye. Wi’ ye by my side, mo nighean donn, I know I can do anything.”

They’d reached the cottage – Claire held the door open for him and stayed in the doorframe, admiring how the back of his kilt gently swung back and forth in tandem with his bootsteps.

“We’ve a bit of bread from Mrs. Crook, no? That should go well wi’ the fish.” Jamie knelt before the fire, wakened the coals, and started skewering the fish to roast.

“Sounds lovely.” Claire shut the door and strode over to the small table, laying their two plates side by side and unwrapping the last hunk of bread from Lallybroch. Behind her the fish sizzled and popped over the fire.

She surveyed the small room. It had been the ultimate decadence to leave their bed unmade this morning – their pillow in the center, her spare shift askew at the foot, Jamie’s trews in a pool near the head. It looked like a bed shared by lovers – not a respectable married couple.

Claire softly smiled to herself as she sank into one chair and watched her husband cook their supper. Just being in the same room as him – sharing each other’s company, sharing the same space – was enough. He was enough.

“Didn’t you tell me once that fish were not an unprecedented wedding gift?”

He turned to her, grinning. “Aye. Yer memory of those three days seems a lot sharper now than it’s ever been, Sassenach.”

She returned his smile. “Now that I think of it, they were among some of the happiest days in my life.” She paused, thoughtful. “Tell me – what were the happiest days of your life, Jamie?”

He extended one hand for a plate and she gave it to him, watching him remove several charred fish from the grate over the fire. “Hmm. The days the bairns were born, to be sure. The day I received my pardon and knew I was back at Lallybroch for good. The day William put on his plaid by himself for the first time. The day Brianna punched that Chisholm lad in the mouth for insulting ye.” She grinned and switched the full plate for the empty one. He lay the last of the fish on that plate and rose to sit next to her.

“Aren’t you missing a few?”

He eased his chair closer to hers so that their thighs and knees touched. “Weel, there’s the obvious ones, then. The day we wed. The day ye chose me, that first time at the stones.” He kissed her cheek. “Do ye think it possible to realize ye’d had a good day only years afterward?”

She squeezed his bare knee and took a bite out of one fish. “Mmphmm. I think so. What do you have in mind?”

He tore a hunk of bread and lay the rest on her plate. “The day I met ye – when ye mended my shoulder and tended to the gunshot wound.”

“Why would that be happy, Jamie? You were hurt, I kept you from bleeding to death, you were an outlaw in the company of your hostile uncle.” He raised a brow, but she interrupted. “And don’t tell me some nonsense about how you were happy to be with me, because despite what you’ve told me there’s no way you fell in love with me the first time you saw me.”

He grinned. “Weel, I actually fell in love wi’ ye the day after I met ye – and I’d add that to the list. No – that day, Sassenach, was happy for me because the path of my life changed. Had it not been for ye tending to me at the castle, or being someone I could talk to – I dinna ken what other kinds of trouble I would have gotten into.”

She cast her eyes down to her plate, focusing on a pile of neatly stacked fish bones. “And you like where that path has taken you, then?”

He nudged her chin up and met her gaze. “It led me here, to this moment, with you. Aye, I do like where it’s taken me.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Tell me – what are your happiest days?”

“Besides the ones you mentioned? Well – I could say the end of the War – the World War. But I was so numb to everything then that I wasn’t really happy because it was over, only because it meant I could go home. And – I suppose the day I chose you the second time at the stones. And if you were happy on the days the children were born – I was happy on the days I told you I was pregnant.”

Slowly, thoughtfully he turned his body and rested his forehead against hers. He grasped her hands tightly. “And the day at the abbey – in the spring – when ye told me about Faith. Claire, I – I canna tell ye how much that little bit of joy healed me, after – ” He swallowed.

“Shh. Don’t think about that, not now – please don’t think about that.” She gathered him close and pressed his face into her neck. “Come back. You’re here, with me. Wearing your bloody kilt for the whole world to see. And I’m eating your burned fish and letting you get my shift all wet with snot because I love you, you idiot.”

He laughed softly and raised his head to kiss her for a long while.

“Ye taste like fish,” he said some time later.

She butted her nose against his. “And whose fault is that, do you think?”

He kissed her cheek. “Thank ye for bringing me back, just now” he said softly. “I dinna think of it every day anymore, and ye ken I dinna dream of it as much as I used to. But it’s still – there – almost like I can touch it. And I dinna think it will ever go away.” He swallowed. “That’s another of my happiest days, Claire – the day ye used yer magic to save me at the abbey.”

She traced her thumb against the “C” she’d carved into his hand the previous day. His wounds had long ago healed – and daily exercises with his ball of rags had almost restored the hand and fingers to their full range of motion. She’d given him a small gift when they arrived at the cottage – a jar of cream she’d made herself, after hours of boiling down goose grease and camphor and other fragrant herbs, which she’d rubbed into his aching hand and fingers every morning and night since they’d arrived. He’d said it helped relax the muscles, easing the pain she knew he had lived with daily since the hand had been injured almost twenty years before.

“It wasn’t magic. Just a bit of acting, and opium. And determination, I suppose.”

“It was magic, Claire. To me.” He kissed her eyelids. “I want to tell ye something, and I dinna wish ye to think I’m daft.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m worried already.”

He sighed. “I have thought so many times about all the things that happened right when we were first acquaint. How many wonderful and terrible things happened to us. And how many of those things in those first years were due to Randall.”

She squeezed his fingers. “Jamie – ”

“He ruined my life, and Jenny’s life, and your life. He is the reason my father is dead. He kept me from my home and family for years. He is the reason Faith is dead. He is the reason I have a crippled hand.” His voice was thick – and when she met his gaze, his eyes swam with tears. Overcome, she released his hand and cupped his cheeks.

“Jamie, stop. I know all this. Don’t bring him in here, between us now.”

He shook his head. “But Claire – had he not had me arrested and flogged and caused me to leave Scotland, I would have never been wi’ Dougal and the others when Murtagh found you, right after ye fell through the stones. He made the marks on my back, but it’s those marks that got me talking to ye right away – got me trusting ye and telling ye about the price on my heid. And I marrit ye to keep ye safe from him.”

He swallowed and breathed deeply. “And then - sometimes I wonder whether I ever would have had a chance wi’ you, if things had been different,” he said quietly. “I would have had much more to offer ye, had it no’ been for him. I would have had a chance to win your heart the proper way, by courting you over weeks and months. And giving ye the proper wedding ye deserved – no’ a ceremony held by a bribed priest, under the threat of violence from my uncle, and attended only by strangers.”

Her fingers trembled. She grazed his thumbs over his cheeks, wiping away the tears. “Jamie –”

His eyes, wild, met hers. “Claire – don’t ye understand? I never would ha’ met ye, never would ha’ married you, never would ha’ lived had it not been for him.”

She had no words. Silently she pulled back her chair and led him over to the bed, easing him to sit on the edge while she knelt before him.

Jamie’s eyes, unfocused, were far away. “So I canna truly hate him. Even though I should. Even though I forgave him long ago. He gave me the greatest gift I ever received – you, and our life together.”

She gently eased off his boots before standing before him. She undid her hair. She unbuttoned her shawl and flung it on the bed. She undid her stays and dropped them to the floor. She slipped out of her gown and tossed it behind her – all the while watching Jamie’s gaze.

When she was finally in her shift she saw him startle and look up questioningly to meet her eyes.

“Welcome back,” she said softly.

He gaped. “Christ. Claire. I -”

She eased toward him and sat astride his knees. “Are you here now, with me? Because if I have your attention, I have a few things to say to you.”

He nodded and placed a large hand on her thigh. He buried his nose in the valley between her breasts, breathing deeply.

She twined her fingers into his hair and held him close. “All of what you said may be true, Jamie. It’s remarkable how such small choices – such small events – have such incredible impacts on our lives. Like how if I hadn’t seen those forget-me-nots at Craigh Na Dun, I never would have touched the stone. Never would have found you.”

He inhaled and exhaled – big, deep breaths – and gripped her thigh tightly.

It had been years since they’d talked about this – years since he’d allowed himself to think about the cataclysmic events that had led him to her - that had tested them, torn them apart, but ultimately brought them back to each other, bound tighter than ever before. And as much as she wanted to stop, she knew that he had to get it all out. That she had to get it all out. And then maybe, just maybe, they could finally lay the ghosts to rest.

“But Jamie – had I not gone through the War, I never would have learned to be a nurse. Had I not been married to Frank, I never would have even been in Scotland – and never would have known what happened right after Culloden. So I never would have been able to save you, and Lallybroch.”

Slowly her hand found his – her J pressing directly into his C. She bent to whisper in his ear.

“Our marriage was hasty, yes. And I was reluctant, yes. But I was falling for you, Jamie. I knew from the moment we met that you were more thoughtful, considerate, gentle, and selfless than any man I’d ever known. Than I thought a man could ever be.”

He hummed against her breasts. She pushed his head closer to her body.

“You would never have needed to court me. You are all I’ve ever needed – not your home, not your estate, not anything material. You are enough. Will always be enough.” She licked her lips. “You are my true match. In every way. You understand me and respect me like nobody ever has. You love me, and make love to me, like no man ever has.”

His hand left hers and skimmed down her thigh to cup gently between her legs. She gasped.

“I would have found you,” she whispered, breathless. “I would have married you, and loved you, and bore your children, no matter the circumstances.”

His fingers began stroking her gently. He raised his eyes to meet hers, reveling in how her breathing was picking up.

“You are my true match, mo nighean donn. I love ye more than any man has ever loved a woman.”

Claire steeled herself, stood, and shrugged out of her shift. Jamie gaped. She cupped her heavy breasts in her hands, thumb circling her aching nipples. “Take me, Jamie,” she whispered. “Take what’s yours – what always has been yours, what always will be yours.”

He swallowed hard and rose to stand before her. Gently, quickly, she unbuckled his kilt and he whipped his shirt over his head. Finally naked, he seized her mouth in a deep kiss, picking her up effortlessly and easing her onto the bed.

She wrapped her legs around him and reached down to guide him inside of her. His hand stilled hers, though, and she whimpered.

She felt his wide, sweet smile against her lips. “Open yer eyes.”

She did, gasping. Blue met blue. “Eyes on me,” he whispered. “Always on me. Let me show ye what I canna find the words to say, Claire.”

He gently pushed deeper inside of her, and his soul touched hers, and they healed.

Wait For Me

     AU where Jughead gets arrested for Jason’s murder instead of FP and takes the fall to save Betty and his father.

    “You’re gonna plead guilty or your father and that blonde Cooper girl will face the same fate as my son.” Clifford spat out over the table, slamming him hands on the white metal surface. A glint of evil ignited in his eyes, a sickening grin cutting along his face. Jughead’s heart started to race, no one could save him now. 

     “Stay away from them.” Jughead cried uselessly, his voice soaked with pain. He tried escaping the locked cuffs around his wrists but it was no use. His whole life he’d never felt wanted. Always used and discarded like a piece of trash. His mother hated him, his friends didn’t trust him, no one did. Except Betty.

      Betty was the only good thing in Jughead’s life. The only thing that made him think that maybe his life was worth living. She made him open up to her, she warmed the coldness of his heart. He could’ve spent hours just listening to her rambling on about new theories or her mother’s ridiculous behaviour. He could watch her sleep soundly for hours, seeming more angelic than even possible. Betty was the first thing he can remember loving. 

       With a waste of space father and a mother who abandoned him, clearly loving was no easy task. But with Betty it was like the feeling was always there and it was never pushed away. She was the only one who listened to him and stuck around to fix him. When he found it hard and thought she deserved better, she pushed back with just as much force until he landed in her arms. She was his entire world. And in no universe would he ever let her walk into any harm. How could he protect her?

        “Goodbye Mr.Jones.” Clifford stood up and went to the door. He cracked it open slightly before turning around and saying “I hope you accept my offer. Too many innocent souls have been taken.” and with that he walked away. Deep down, Jughead knew what he had to do. Even if it meant never seeing her again, he wanted to to be safe. He’d rather have her alive and hating him than dead and loving him. He’d confess.

         Sheriff Keller pressed stop on the video camera, clearing his throat and sitting down. He had a disappointed look on his face when he met the gaze of the criminal sat before him. Who would’ve thought a kid like this would kill? The answer was everyone, no one trusted the outcast.

         “Jughead, you do realise this is set in stone now? There’s no going back. Not now, not ever. Did you kill the kid?” Keller begged, a small strand of him knowing this wasn’t the truth. Jughead looked distraught and in inner conflict. That’s not the face of a murderer. 

         His beanie-less black hair was tousled in all directions, heavy bags outlined his eyes making it clear he had no sleep. He wore the same clothes as the night before, a black suit with an untied baby blue tie that matched Betty Cooper’s dress. He must’ve been uncomfortable.

         “Does it really matter? You’re gonna arrest me anyways. Why not plead guilty and make the sentence shorter.” Jughead nonchalantly stated, playing with his fingers to find any distraction that’ll take him away from this reality. All that played in his mind was the face Betty made when he was being crammed into the back of a cop car. It was as if she lost all hope.

         “I’m sorry, Jughead. We’ll hold you in a cell until the court decide what to do. But it’s not looking good.” The Sheriff sighed before leading himself and Jughead out of the room, through the lobby and into a cell. Although, on the way, they both noticed some commotion in the hallway.

          “What do you mean he confessed? I stole the files! I have them right here!” Shouted the voice of a man familiar to both Jughead and the Sheriff. They continued walking hastily, eager to find out what was going on. Approaching the scene, Jughead stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her.

           “Please, just let me see him. I need to see him. He’s innocent!” Betty screamed, lunging for the officer but being held back by her father, Hal. Jughead noticed her hair wasn’t in her usual neat ponytail, instead it was scattered messily across her head, showing no signs of being sorted out since last night. Tears cascaded violently across her face, her eyes bloodshot and weighed down from lack of sleep. Instead of wearing the dress from the night before, she had changed into black jeans and one of Jughead’s many “S” shirts that Betty had “borrowed”. Before he could look anymore, he was being tugged past her and into a cell. 

           “I’m sorry Betts.” Was all he could get out before Keller dragged him away. Started to sob more and reach for him but it was too late. He was gone. No one was letting her see him, she had nothing to do.She felt nothing. Numbly, she got to her feet and stormed out of the station. Adamant to prove her boyfriend was innocent. She would never stop.

           “You have a visitor, Jones.” announce the cop stationed by Jughead’s cell. Jughead never bothered to learn their names, he had no care for anything anymore. He usually just sat and cried in his cell, waiting for the time to go around. The weeks passed and the time went around but it still wasn’t right. He was still alone. The court dates keep getting pushed which only extends his time away from Betty.

          “Juggie?” A soft voice broke through the silence. His heart skipped almost a thousand beats, shaking him from his deep thought. He raced to the bars of his cell, seeing the golden goddess before him. He pictured her face everyday, waiting for this moment to come. She looked a lot better than he last saw her, but still not the same. She noticed how frail and weak he looked, as if he’d not been eating. And he hadn’t. Heartbreak often does that to a boy.

         “Betts. What’re you doing here.” He masked his happiness with a face of worry and disappointment. She was going to get hurt if she came too close. He couldn’t have that. “I told you not to wait for me.” A tear slid down his face, this was more painful than before because she just kept coming back. 

        The day after he’d been put in the god forsaken cell, Betty had come. She begged for the truth and promised to get him out, his heart breaking more and more at the sight. He told her not to come back, not the wait for him. He told her the murder board was all lies to hide the truth. That he, Jughead Jones, killed Jason Blossom. She knew he was lying. She could always tell. So she masked hurt and left, swearing to never step a foot near him again.

        What he didn’t know was that she could hear his raspy voice breathe a small “wait for me” as she left the room. His voice was thick with emotion and cracked slightly. She knew he was crying. Which made her more sure he was innocent. So she carried on trying to prove that. And when she found the tape of Clifford shooting Jason. She went straight to Keller with a smile on her face. 

        “Clifford Blossom killed himself. He wrote a note, admitting to threatening you, setting you up and admitting to killing his son.” Betty stepped closer to the bars, setting her hand on one. She silently hoped to touch Jughead just once, she had missed everything about him. Though, right now, he was frozen in shock. Was he really free? 

        “Nancy Drew strikes again.” Kevin emerged from the hallway with a grin. Sheriff Keller following behind with a key to Jughead’s cell. He was still frozen in shock,  but all he could focus on was Betty. She saved him. She never gave up on him. 

       When the cell opened, both teens flew at each other, craving even the smallest touch. They were wrapped up in each others arms and Betty swore as soon as his arms wrapped around her she found her home. There were consequences to come with Jughead’s actions, but at the moment nothing felt safer.

        “I will always wait for you Jug. Always.” Betty breathed into the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent she had missed for all of this time. Jughead let the flood gates open, sobbing violently into his girlfriend’s shoulders. He knew now that this was all life had been preparing him for. Truly appreciating that someone out there could believe in him.

       “I love you.” He choked between sobs into the fabric of Betty’s shirt. Without any hesitation, she embraced the sides of his face, wiping away the tears before joining their lips. The kiss didn’t last long but it was full of raw emotion. Emotion they’d been having to lock up for weeks. 

       “I love you too.” She whispered against his lips, quickly pecking them once more before leading him into the lobby. His father waited there, looking cleaned up and sober? Jughead couldn’t believe the world he had walked out to. 

      “Dad!” He breathed, running to his father and hugging him tighter than ever. Had Betty just single-handedly saved the entire town? In this moment, Jughead made a promise to himself. He would do everything he could, for the rest of his life, to make Betty Cooper happy. He would marry her one day. That’s what he was sure of. And he did.

I hope you enjoyed that little prompt I was given! My asks are open if anyone wants to send in some ideas or feedback! Also if anyone just wants some advice or wants to talk! :) much love x

anonymous asked:

What about omega Steve going into the ice pregnant with alpha Bucky's baby. And they survives with him?

Oh my goodness! 

Can you imagine, Steve coming out of the ice in a world that doesn’t make sense and he’s alone, missing Bucky, to find that he’s pregnant. With Bucky’s child. His Alpha. But Bucky’s not here, he’s lost in time, far away and as far as Steve knows, he’s dead. 

But then, when he meets the Winter Soldier on that bridge and finds Bucky staring at him. And maybe, Steve’s child, their daughter, happens to be at the bridge too, maybe the timeline is a little different and they were ambushed. But Steve’s not with Natasha and Sam, and he was dropping little Sarah off to stay with Clint (let’s say Natasha and Clint have a safe house together), but got stopped by this strange man. 

But as soon as the mask comes off, it’s Sarah who squeals, because she knows her dad, she knows and she runs up to him, “papa! Papa!! You came back, look dada, papa came back, he’s here!” 

And Bucky looks down at her and then he sees it all. He sees blond hair, blue eyes, he remembers a man’s skinny body and loving him. He remembers everything before the war, during it and after. 

And it’s all by Sarah’s big doe eyes and her scent, the smell of baby powder and Steve’s sweet omega smell, he feels like a key is being put into a lock and suddenly everything is set free

“Papa!” Sarah smiles, big and dopey, and Bucky stoops to her level and brushes some of her curly hair back, “papa?” 

And Bucky’s resolve breaks. He drops his gun and hugs her tightly and he’s crying, and he’s saying, “yeah, I’m your papa, baby girl. I love you so much.” 

When he pulls back to get a look at her, she wipes his tears away and kisses her father’s nose and says, “dada’s been really sad without you.” 

Bucky looks up and stands, Sarah clinging onto one of his hands, the flesh one, seeing Steve standing there, looking lost and torn. 


And Bucky opens his arms and smiles, “yeah, Stevie. It’s me, sweetheart.” 

Steve’s walls crumble and he staggers into Bucky’s open arms and sobs. Bucky wraps his arms around Steve and holds onto him, keeping him close and kisses his face all over, their bond mark and then scoops Sarah up and they hug, the three of them. Finally, together

A New Dawn, A New Day

Still dealing with the ending of ACOWAR. I reread a few chapters because I just can’t believe its over. Don’t read this if you haven’t finished; not very spoiler, but kinda. anyways I hope you like the conclusion I have our precious ship. =)

Nesta locked herself in her room. No matter how many times Feyre or Elain knocked, she just wouldn’t come out. Everyday her sisters tried. They talked through the door, they offered her food and drinks. They wanted her company, they wanted her to come out. But she wouldn’t answer, she wouldn’t open her door.

They all had scars, visible and invisible, from the battle they had barely won. Everyone was dealing in their own ways. Feyre has Rhys and Elain was warming up to Az and Mor with each day that passed. Everyone had someone to lean on. But Nesta wouldn’t talk to them. Nesta couldn’t face everything that had happened that day.

Cassian knew the inner circle would listen to him. He knew Feyre had seen the battle with hybern, from what she explain to him the cauldron had shown her what could’ve been their final moments. Rhys and Az were always the ones he leaned on. But they had their own scars, hell Rhys had died. He wouldn’t burden them with his pain.

Especially when he knew they wouldn’t fully understand it. Not what it felt like to be left, to know you would die alone if only to spare your friends. The family you had chosen. No one one else would understand what had happened in those moments with Hybern.

No one but Nesta. And Cassian was done waiting for her to come to him.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Hi😘omg i loveyour blog so so much and i am so grateful that i found your bolg and your fics you can't even imagine. I was just reading every story in your mastelist and if you don't mind or when you have time can u make a fic where eleana is realy pregnant? Not where she lost another baby or where kaden bought clothes for orphan chids❤️❤️❤️pls and thank you

Since so many people have asked and I keep avoiding it, I guess I can give you a lil something. 

Or a 2k word something. All in the name of fun.

Psst. For some more you can look at my masterlist here if you want.


Eleana watched as Drakon, the almighty and powerful, fluffed the cushions at her feet so she was more comfortable. She was laying on a couch, her long hair tangled around a myriad of pillows and her arms happily twisted in a white velvet blanket.

“Now how is that?” The bronze male asked. His eyebrows had knitted together and his hands were now steadily stationed on his hips. He ran an eye over her, evaluating whether he thought she had sufficient comfort or not.

“Perfect. Thank you.” Eleana offered him a sweet but tired smile.

He grinned at her, and pulled up a chair to sit at her head. Drakon was keeping her company while Kaden was off gallivanting with Miryam, and Eleana was thankful for it. Otherwise, she would be a nervous wreck. Her mate certainly was, no matter how hard he tried to disguise it, and Drakon and Miryam were not only very good distractions, but also wonderful hosts and people.

Eleana ran a hand down her bulging stomach. Only two weeks to go and she would finally be a mother. The pregnancy had been a hard one, she was sick every day and was often too weak to leave the house. Kaden was in ruins over her state, and constantly tried to siphon her pain to him through the bond. She kept reminding him that it’s not how the bond worked – you’d think he’d have it down after so long – but he insisted on trying anyway. She loved him for it, but also worried about how he might fare if… how he might fare if this pregnancy ended the way all their others had.

“There is something I need to tell you.” Drakon placed one hand on her forehead, and the other on her hands now settled on her belly.

“Yes?” Eleana rapidly became nervous, her mind thinking of the worst-case scenarios. It wasn’t Kaden, he was still sending messages of love through the bond every five bloody minutes, and it wasn’t Prythian. She had spies set up so she would know if anything major happened at her homeland while she was gone. So what made Drakon speak with such severity in his voice?

“Rhys and Feyre are coming.” Drakon said, and it was much worse than anything Eleana could’ve predicted.

Keep reading


(a Bucky drabble)

I have two stories to finish, instead I just sat down for a couple of hours and wrote this in one sitting. Muses are so weird.

Warnings: mentions of violence and death

This one is quite heavy on the feels, I don’t know where it came from but it wrecked me a little. I wrote this in one go which is unusual for me so if you see any mistakes please let me know!



(Oblivion: the act or an instance of forgetting; total forgetfulness: sought the great oblivion of sleep.)

He would never belong to her, she became more painfully aware of that every night when she crawled into bed next to him.

They say wounded people recognize each other, that their souls connect on another level, she never believed any of that.

But with him she had seen his soul from the first time she laid eyes on him, all of it, every guilt-ridden inch.

He was so beautiful and pure, and tormented, much like her. And yet so very different.

She was never supposed to touch him, how was she supposed to know that?

He screamed so loud. Every night she could feel his pain, every gut wrenching cry and every desperate howl.

At first she just stayed in the room with him, made sure he wasn’t alone. She tried talking to him, about everything and nothing, just to distract him, and the screaming would stop for a while. Some nights he even managed to sleep a little.

Then she decided to crawl under the covers with him. She had been terrified that first time, terrified that he would freak out, that he would push her away and she could never come close to him ever again.

But as soon as she spoke his name and gently laced her fingers into his hair, he had turned around and pulled her into his arms.
Holding onto her for dear life as the last of his quiet sobs faded and he finally managed to sleep.

It was the first quiet night the building had known in years.

She knew she was crossing lines that shouldn’t be crossed but it was already too late.

She had forgotten the last time her heart had felt warmth. There was no way she could let go of it now.

He was like a song she had known all her life but had just forgotten. And now that she remembered, it was in her head the entire time. He was all that filled her mind.


It scared her at first because she had grown accustomed to being invisible.

The other people in the building always looked right through her. Nobody cared about the strange quiet girl that lived on the top floor. 

But Bucky did, to him she wasn’t invisible and he changed everything. Through his eyes she had never felt more alive.

But it could never be real. He wasn’t hers, he never would be.

He belonged in the light, out there, not here in the darkness with her.

Her torment was of a different kind. 

She never screamed.

For her the nightmares had stopped some time ago but she could still feel them, they were buried deep inside her bones. She couldn’t shake them, not even sleeping in the warmth and safety of Bucky’s arms could heal her.

There was only darkness here, and if she stayed much longer she would pull him under with her.


A soft sigh escaped his lips when he felt her hand rest on his back, soothing caresses followed by the soft touch of her lips against his shoulder where she put a gentle, lingering kiss.

‘I’m here. Everything is okay now.’

He smiled and closed his eyes, still in awe of how she managed to take away every bad thought with just the touch of her hands. She could quiet them all and he felt sleep overtake him.

He reached for her, pulling her into his arms and feeling the warmth of her body against his, calming his soul.

When he opened his eyes he was greeted by the sight that always took his breath away.
Her skin was so pale, her eyes so endlessly blue and her lips so deeply red. He let his thumb brush over them before kissing her gently. 

She smiled into the kiss while she clung to his chest.

One day you are going to tell me your name,’ Bucky whispered,’ I won’t rest until you do.’

A name is just a name,’ she smiled,’ my name won’t tell you who I am.’

He was always shaken by the softness of her voice, as if every word she spoke was nothing but a soft whisper, only meant for his ears.

He wrapped his arms around her and closed his eyes. He wanted to stay awake and talk to her more, ask her who she was but as usual in her arms the weight of the day suddenly felt too heavy and he could no longer keep his eyes open.

Please stay,’ he whispered, his voice deep and tired,’ please always stay.

I’m here, Bucky,’ she kissed his jaw,’ there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore.’

As soon as his breathing slowed down she wiped away the tears from her eyes and bit her lip.

She had allowed herself to come too close, made it hard for herself. If she postponed this any longer she would never find the strength.

He’s okay now, it’s okay for me to go, to leave, he’ll be fine.

I’ll be fine.

‘My name is Rose,’ she whispered before she disappeared from his arms.


Bucky wandered the halls absent-mindedly, rubbing his eyes while suppressing another yawn. 

He hadn’t slept well for the past 4 days, there hadn’t been any nightmares but he had still been restless. 

And his bed had been empty.

He didn’t want to go knock on her door, he knew she came to him whenever she could, but he was worried. She had never left him alone that long.

‘Good morning, James.’

He woke up from his thoughts and noticed his upstairs neighbour Susan, an elderly lady in her early 70’s, coming down the stairs.

‘Morning, Susan,’ he smiled.

She gave him a warm smile as she passed.

‘Can I ask you something?’ Bucky stopped her,’ do you know if everything is alright with…Rose?’

‘Rose?’ the old lady squinted her eyes.

‘The girl from upstairs,’ Bucky explained,’ long dark hair, pale freckled skin, beautiful smile.’

‘Yes, I know Rose, but…Bucky, are you alright?’

‘I’m fine, it’s just that we’ve been spending a bit of time together lately and I haven’t seen her in a few days now, I don’t want to worry but…’

‘Honey, Rose has been dead for almost two years now.’

The cold chill than ran up Bucky’s spine was strong enough to make him weak on his feet and he had to grab the wall to keep himself steady.

‘Are you okay?’ Susan worriedly put her hand on his arm.

‘I need to…get some air, I think.’


Her grave was empty and neglected, no flowers, no picture or text, just a basic stone and a coffin in the ground.

Bucky swallowed hard before he kneeled down and put a bouquet of white roses under her name.

When the initial shock had wore off, when he had investigated everything Susan told him and when he had finally accepted the truth, he realized he’d known it all along.

As soon as Susan spoke the words he’d known it to be true.

Rose was a ghost, a soul from the past holding onto a life that was no longer hers, desperate to stay but destined to leave.

One touch at a time she had taken on Bucky’s demons and she had won the fight for him. 

She hadn’t been from this world but during those moments she and Bucky spent together she had made everything in his world better.

Had it just been a few months or almost a year? He couldn’t remember exactly.
Time was a funny thing, and it moved away from you much too fast. There was no way to stop it.

Rose had been barely 25 when she had moved to the big city, full of plans and excited about life. She fell in love too quickly and with the wrong man.
By the time she realized it his hold on her had already been too strong, the bruises already cast too deep.
She had been alone and unable to see her way out.

Bucky shivered when he remembered Susan’s words on how the police found her, her body broken and covered in a halo of her own blood. There was nothing anybody could have done they said.

But I could have protected her. If only I’d known her sooner.

I would have saved you,’ Bucky’s tears took the upper hand and he wiped them away in an angry gesture while he tried to bite away the pain,’ why couldn’t I have saved you too?

He stayed by her resting place until after the sun was gone and some time after that.

From now on her grave would always have flowers and his nights would never be haunted by nightmares again.

captaincacw  asked:

starmora + 9 and maybe 6 (because I am a sucker for a good angst fest for my greatest otps whom i will devote my soul for and starmora has shot up to top five)

9. Things you said when I was crying + 6. Things you said under the stars and in the grass

Also for @scarlet-widow, who asked for 6, and @atomeckova, who asked for 9


“Is everything okay, Peter?”

He must have heard her approaching, because he didn’t take his eyes off the sky when he responded, “Yeah. Everything’s fine.” His voice sounded rough. 

“Why aren’t you on the ship, then?” They’d had a rare break between jobs and decided to dock on a forest planet for the night, but as far as Gamora knew there had been no plans to sleep outside.

“Just watching the stars.” He tilted his head back to look at her. “Come join me.”

She only hesitated for a moment before walking over and sitting on the grass next to him.

“It doesn’t count if you don’t lay down,” Peter informed her.

“You have specific guidelines for this?” Gamora asked, but she laid down close enough for their arms to touch.

“Basic stargazing etiquette.” He slid his arm over hers to grab her hand, something that had become an instinctual motion for them lately. 

He spoke again after a few minutes. “My mother and I used to lay in the grass and listen to music when I was a kid.”

She was unsurprised to hear tears in his voice, but she had no real idea how to comfort him. So she squeezed his hand and hoped just being there would help.  

“I wish she could have met you,” he told her.  

“I wish I could have met her, too.”

“She’d have loved you… and not just because you’re an alien.” 

She chuckled. “Good to know.”

There was a rustling behind them, and Gamora titled her head to see the rest of their team coming towards them.

“Are we intruding?” Mantis asked uncertainly.

“Yeah, you’re not gonna start making out or something are you?” Rocket asked.

Peter was still looking up at the stars, but he was grinning, so Gamora took it as a yes.

“No,” she said. “Join us. I’ve been informed you must lay down, though.”

“The grass is itchy,” Drax complained, but he and the others laid down around them – except Groot, who jumped off of Rocket’s shoulder to lay on Peter’s chest.

She glanced at Peter and saw a single tear make its way down his smiling face.

“Peter,” she whispered, nudging his shoulder. He turned his head to look at her, their faces an inch apart. “She would have been proud of you.”

“Thanks,” he whispered back. She used her free hand to cup his face, wiping away a new tear and pulling him towards her for a quick kiss.

Not quick enough, apparently.

“Hey!” Rocket protested. “You said you weren’t gonna make out.”

They broke apart and Peter let out a watery laugh. “Alright, alright.”  

Distance (Raph X Reader)

Raphael is getting distant and you try to break up with him and he breaks into tears

[Y/N] sighed, running her hand over her face. She stared at the 8 text messages she had sent Raphael with no response. She was tired of it. Tired of being considered last, tired of not being considered at all. She flipped her phone shut, knowing it was time to make the final decision. Raphael didn’t appreciate her, she felt like he was only with her as a last resort. He’d been getting so distant in the past few weeks, with only bursts of affection and love.
“Time to do this.” She said huffing into the mirror in her room.
“Time to do what, shorty?” Raphael said, suddenly appearing behind her.
“I hate it when you guys do that.” She stood up to hug him, but he walked around her, oblivious. “I didn’t know you’d be coming over.” She said, shrugging it off.
“Your boyfriend ain’t allowed to come over?” He eyed her suspiciously.
“Yes, actually, I was just about to go see you.” He let his shoulders relax a little, immediately tensing up again when she sat on her bed and patted the spot next to her, signaling him over. He sat next to her, emotion welled in her throat. “Raph, I- uh.” She sniffed, in effort to get rid of the tears. “I really feel like,” she cleared her throat. “you have been really distant lately and I don’t want you to feel-” a tear sprung from her eye. “Sorry.” She cleared her throat again, hoping she could clear away the sadness.
“What are ya’ sayin’ shorty?” He asked, wiping away her tear. She let your face rest in his loving touch for just a second before remembering that he had been ignoring her for days.
“I think we should break up.” She said, silently letting a few tears slip down her face. Raph jerked away his hand, searching her face for any kind of salvation. He felt angry, it was more then anger, it was a pain in his chest that rose to his throat, and manifested itself into tears. He choked on fragments of words coming out of his mouth. [Y/N] watched his transformation into a sobbing mess.
“I just-” he choked. “If you just-” Raphael gasped trying to form sentences. “-give me another chance.” She rushed to his side, comforting him.
“Raph I thought you didn’t care about me anymore.” She whispered, through her own tears. [Y/N] cupped his face in her hands, desperate to make him feel better.
“I’m sorry.” He said, trying to calm down. “I just try not to be to clingy, ya’ know?” She stood up to hug him, clutching his head in her chest.
“Raphael you could never be too clingy,” he wrapped two giant arms around her, pressing his face into her, his sobs muffled by her shirt. “I’m your girlfriend of course I want you around.” She pet the back of his bandana, giving him his time.
“I’ll do betta’,” he wiped his nose. “I promise.” She shook her head, looking into his eyes,
“I just want be more involved in your life raph,” she explained. “That’s all.” He looked up at her, as she bent over to kiss him. He held her for just a moment, erasing all of her doubts, kissing away her fear.
“I love you shorty.” She blushed.
“Does that mean we’re not breaking up?” She smiled,
“At least I think so.” She wiped one last tear from his face, and kissed his cheek softly. She ran her thumb over the stains on his cheeks,
“You really love me raph?” She asked.
“Yeah shorty, I really do.” She smiled, throwing herself onto him, showering him with kisses grateful that she got to keep her Raphie.

Keep Me Safe {Sirius Black x Reader}

I just needed to write this short drabble thingy right now. Set during the first wizarding war. Fluff / Comfort

Safe & Sound - Taylor Swift


Enjoy! @allertonn


As the night had started to draw near, (Y/n)’s heart weighed heavily in her chest. The war was far from its end and what’s even worse, their number was diminishing dangerously fast. Friends and families were all in danger and almost everyone had distanced themselves, thinking that their former schoolmates could possibly be spies, all working together for the Dark Lord. They did not want to take the risk anymore and most of the people they knew had now either sacrificed their lives, never knowing the choking grief their loved ones suffered from; or were viciously murdered by Death Eaters who took pleasure in taking as many lives as they can.

Everyday, there was a pain to go through.

(Y/n) hastily wiped her tears and pushed herself to smile as she heard the door open. Her husband, Sirius Black, had just got home from another mission. He was more than exhausted and as soon as (Y/n) saw his lean figure appear from the doorway, she quickly assisted him and laid him down on the couch comfortably. She placed a pillow for his head to rest and was about to get him a glass of water when she felt him grab her wrist.

“Where you off to, love?” He asked, pulling her to sit down by his side. “I haven’t even kissed you yet.”

(Y/n) chuckled and allowed him to place a soft kiss on her lips and when he was about to pull away, she gave him another eager kiss to which he smiled to. It was always like this every day. He would come home tired and she would take care of him and although Sirius wished he could repay her kindness by helping her out, they both knew he was fighting for a better world for them to live in. Nonetheless, she did her best to make everything comfortable for him whenever he comes home especially during difficult missions like this. (Y/n) wrapped her arms around him and kept him in her embrace, wishing it would keep him away from the daily harm he had to face out there.

Just close your eyes,
The sun is going down,

You’ll be alright,
No one can hurt you now,

Sirius kept his arm around her torso with a tight hold, thinking that if he let go of her, she will disappear just like the other people he had lost. He didn’t want her to leave the couch at all. He wanted her by his side where he can feel her body and skin, where he can hear her heartbeat, and where he can smell her scent. He never openly wept in front of everyone but now, he was not holding back. His tears fell down on her shirt while she tried to comfort him with words. He shivered in fear at the thought of losing her; his beloved wife who was preventing herself from crying as well. At times like these, one of them had to be strong enough for the other.

“I’m here for you, Sirius,” she soothed him, rubbing his back as he wept, “I’m not going anywhere. We’ll win this war together, alright? With James and Lily and Remus and Peter…We’ll all be there when You-Know-Who finally falls and then we’ll be like a family again…”

She kissed his forehead as he breathed in and out, trying to calm himself while still holding onto her tight. He buried his face into her sides and softly sobbed.

“I love you so much, (Y/n),” he said before looking up at her with tear stained cheeks.

“I love you too, Sirius. I won’t ever leave you,” she wiped his tears away with a promise before pulling him back into her embrace.

Come morning light,
You and I’ll be safe and sound.

“I’ve made everyone sad the past couple posts. I’mma do something funny!” And then I fucking THREW IN FEELS. Honestly I am sorry but I did want to explore Howard and Maria’s relationship a bit.

Maria walked into her husband’s office and was only slightly surprised that he was sprawled out on his fainting couch. Howard had always had a flair for the dramatic. She wasn’t quite sure why he was moaning about how terrible his life was though. It wasn’t like something bad had happened to him in the last three days.

“Dear,” she said.

“Maria, everything is terrible!” Howard moaned, rolling from side to side.

It took everything Maria had not to laugh in his face. “Why is everything terrible, dear?”

Howard jerked into a sitting position, appalled that she apparently hadn’t noticed. “Tony hasn’t called me ‘daddy’ in a month!”

Maria raised her eyebrow and clasped her hands behind her back so he couldn’t see her digging claws into her skin, to keep from giggling about how earnestly upset he was. “Oh.”

“He always called me ‘daddy!’” Howard continued, covering his face and moaning in frustration. “He’s only called me ‘dad’ for the last month! Do you know how many times that was?”

“Honey, I don’t kn–” Maria began.

“Eighty-three times!” Howard burst out, thrashing so hard that he fell off the couch with a yelp.

Maria did not snort, because she knew she would start laughing and never stop if she did, and then Howard would be extra upset.

Howard blinked up at the ceiling, then clambered to his feet, dusting himself off. “Eighty-three times he’s called me ‘dad’ instead of ‘daddy,’ Maria.”

“You kept count,” Maria said after a moment, surprised.

Howard frowned at her. “Well, yes, Maria, it’s a numbers thing, I’m a numbers man.”

“No, you’re right, honestly,” she said. “That’s on me.”

Eighty-three times, Maria!” Howard continued, throwing his hands up. “You don’t seem nearly as upset about this as you should be!”

Maria didn’t say ‘well yeah, he still calls me “mommy,”’ but only because it was quite possible that Howard might burst into tears.

“…Did I do something wrong?” Howard asked softly. “Did I make him stop loving me?”

“Honey, no,” Maria answered immediately. “There is nobody who loves their father more than Tony loves you. Sometimes boys just… stop calling their fathers ‘daddy’ as they get older. That’s not a reflection on you.

Howard frowned. “But… I’m his daddy.”

“Howard,” Maria sighed, reaching out to cup his cheeks and draw him into a kiss. “You’re always going to be his daddy. Just because Tony’s calling you something different doesn’t mean his feelings have changed. He still loves you the same as he did a month ago.”

“Why do things have to change?” Howard asked sadly. “Why can’t he be my sweet little boy forever?”

Maria pressed her face into his neck and hummed. “That’s just life, honey.”

“I know,” he sighed, then yelped. “Ooh! Did you just bite me?!”

Maria blinked, teeth digging into the skin of his throat. “…No.”

“Maria, you know you can’t bite me unless we have time for me to do something about it,” Howard scolded, giving her a fond pat on the butt before gently nudging her away. “I have to make some phone calls before supper.”

Maria groaned loudly, annoyed. “Why did you have to be a CEO? Why couldn’t I marry a regular guy?”

Howard pressed a quick kiss to her lips before moving back toward his desk. “A regular guy couldn’t buy Janet Van Dyne expensive fabric just to make his son a beautiful ballgown for the next Meeting.”

The werewolf couldn’t help a fond smile. “Tony’s going to love the dress, Howard.”

He scoffed. “It’s a gift from Janet, Maria, not from me.”

Maria rolled her eyes. “Of course, Howard.”

“I think,” Maria said, then paused. “…I think you should call your father ‘daddy’ more often, bambino.”

Tony blinked up at her, gangly now, but still with bright, innocent eyes. “The boys at school make fun of me when I call him that.”

“Why in the hell,” Maria whispered to herself, another thing to wonder about why humans were the way they were. “Well, perhaps still refer to him as ‘dad’ while at school, but call him ‘daddy’ when you’re home? He misses it.”

“Okay,” Tony replied with that familiar guilelessness that she loved. “I can try.”

She wrapped him up in a hug that brought his feet off the ground, spinning him in a circle that had him giggling. “That’s my boy! Your father is a little odd, but we love him anyway, right?”

Tony laughed as she dug her fingers into his sides, kicking wildly with laughter. “Mom!”

“He’s a human and he’s strange even by their standards but he’s the most loving father and husband in the world!” Maria continued, swinging him around again.

“Yeah!” Tony agreed happily, then kicked again. “Mommy, put me down!”

Maria sighed, just a touch wistfully, as she set him on his feet. He still called her ‘mommy’ but it was definitely falling in frequency. She carefully brushed his hair out of his eyes, humming quietly and murmuring about a haircut, and ended up with her hand on top of his head, surprising herself with the thought ‘if we just had a little more time.’ Usually it was Howard being the sentimental one.

“My precious pup,” she murmured, cupping his cheek. “Do you know how much we love you?”

Tony tilted his head as he looked up at her. “Of course, Mom. You guys hug and kiss me and tell me you love me all the time. Did you know there are boys at school who don’t get hugs and kisses from their parents?”

Maria smiled sadly. “Oh, honey.”

“So I know how much you guys loves me,” the boy continued. “Do you guys know how much I love you?”

Maria squatted in front of him, cupping his cheeks again. “Honey, it’s never going to be as much as your daddy and I love you.”

Tony stuck his chin out stubbornly. “Well, I’m going to try!”

“Tesorino, that would be delightful,” Maria assured him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Mom!” Tony complained. “You always get lipstick on me when you do that!”

“Boys are making fun of him for calling me ‘daddy?!’” Howard burst out angrily. “I knew sending him to boarding school was a mistake!”

“Honey,” Maria said, trying to keep the laughter out of her voice.

“They’re ruining my precious boy!”

Maria covered her mouth to hide her smile. “I think boys would have made fun of him at a public school, too, dear.”

“Maria, I’ve been telling you this!” Howard threw his hands up. “We could home school him until he’s ready for college! And then we get a little apartment off campus to stay in while he’s there so we’d always be nearby–”

“Howard, I thought you wanted to stop people from bullying him. A boy that never leaves his parents’ home, Howard? Really?”

Howard sagged, sitting down on the edge of their bed and hanging his head. “My boy,” he said sadly. “I’m supposed to protect him.”

“You’re also supposed to let him grow up to become his own man,” Maria told him gently. “And with you as his father, he’s going to grow up to be a good man, too, Howard.”

Howard choked quietly and clutched his chest. “Maria,” he said, tears filling his eyes. “Why would you say something like that when you know I’m so weak?”

“You’re not weak,” she answered immediately. “I wouldn’t choose a weak mate. If anything, you’re too strong, and too damn responsible.” She ran her fingers through his hair as his shoulders began to shake. “Why does it surprise you so that I love my mate so dearly?”

“Sometimes,” Howard began, leaning his head on her shoulder. “Sometimes I worry. That I’m tricking you somehow. And I’m just screwing everything up.”

“You’re not,” Maria assured him. “You’re not tricking me and you’re not screwing everything up. You love Tony. And sometimes you forget about Tony long enough to remember you love me, too.”

“Maria,” Howard gasped, lifting his head to stare up at her. “I always love you. If I’ve done something–”

She snorted, pressing a finger to his lips. “Howard, nothing could give me greater pleasure than my mate loving our pup. I was just teasing.”

“I wish I could give you another one,” he admitted softly, eyes going sad. “Maria, if I’d had any idea what that radiation would do to me–”

Maria held her hand up to stop him. “I’m happy that we even got one pup, Howard. Tony is enough. You are enough. You were upfront with me about your possible fertility issues before you even proposed.” She smirked, leering at him. “And I can’t say the endeavor for a pup was unpleasant either.”

Howard choked on a slightly hysterical laugh. “Maria.

“We’re getting older, dear,” she added after he’d calmed down. “You, especially. Tony… Tony is always going to be enough for me.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead. “And you will, too. Besides, we have Ana and Jarvis, and Peggy and her family. I come from a big pack where there were aunts and uncles and cousins. This… this is just like home.”

Howard frowned, reaching up to cup her cheeks and using his thumb to wipe away a tear she hadn’t noticed had fallen. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find more of your family, honey.”

“You found my Uncle Giuseppe and his family,” Maria answered quietly. “That was… honestly more than I ever hoped for.”

Howard nodded, dissatisfied. He was still looking, technically, had detectives searching Europe for Carbonells, but at this point he was pretty sure that they would only find graves, if they’d even been given that decency. He wished he’d taken better care, better safety precautions when he was younger, so he could have given Maria the big family she wanted and the siblings Tony would have adored.

But if Maria could be happy, after all that had happened to her, he’d stop wondering ‘what if’ and be happy, too.

F is for “First”

Fandom: The Walking Dead

Note: This was written for the @simons-thirst-squad ABC writing challenge! My prompt was F is for “First” and I hope you enjoy this little fluffy-angsty one shot.

Pairing: Simon x Reader

Warnings: Angst, loss of a loved one, degenerative illness, mentions of a depressive state. NSFW due to the warnings but there is no smut.

Words: 1,767

Originally posted by jdmfanfiction

Death was everywhere.

From the stench of it clinging to every worn fibre, to the sight of it shuffling in ravenous hordes outside of the compound. He couldn’t remember when it happened, but he’d become numb to it. In the New World Order, people were a currency of trade. Building blocks to create a strong workforce and an even stronger army. They were assets. The grief that he should have felt when they lost another Savior had vanished along the way and he never considered it would be possible to feel it again.

But then she happened.

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The Start of Something New Chapter 6 (Jughead x Reader)

Chapter 1
, Chapter 2
, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

In which even more important questions are asked.

Listen to: “The Book of Love”, Gavin James

(Y/N) wandered the dusty shelves of the library, briefly recalling her text message conversation with Jughead earlier that day.

Jughead: Hey (Y/N). Pretty sick today so I can’t come. But I need a book for the research project in history due tomorrow. Can you check it out for me and bring it after school?

That was weird. Jughead was always at least a week ahead of the course schedule.

Y/N: Yeah sure, what’s the title?

Jughead: Mr. Andersen said the book lost its dust cover so it’s just blank and red with gold bindings. Here’s the dewey decimal number. I think you can figure it out.

Y/N: Why don’t you just ask Archie? You guys live together anyways.

Jughead: And let him into our place? No chance.

(Y/N) had grinned at that, and headed off in search of this prodigal history tome. What Jughead had asked for was deep in the stacks and took quite a while to find. The fact that it didn’t have a cover made it easy to spot among the spines with words, surprisingly.

She slid the red book with gold binding off of the shelf. Out of curiosity, she turned to the first page in an attempt to find the title.

The Start of Something New, it read in a bold font. (Y/N) became confused. This seemed more like a piece of fiction than a historical text. Maybe it was a historical narrative and Jughead was supposed to compare and contrast the story with real life? They were in different history classes and she had no idea what Mr. Andersen had assigned.

(Y/N) glanced at her phone; she had half an hour until next period. She brought the book to her and Jughead’s table, opened it, and began to read.

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Supermarket Flowers

A/N: Sorry to have to do this to you all but… not sorry. Couldn’t help but write this to such an amazingly emotional and triggering song by Ed Sheeran - Supermarket Flowers

Warning: Trigger warning for bereavement and loss.

There was so much silence. After everyone had all gone it was like everything in the room was suddenly unreal. It was like one of those moments in an artistic movie where there’s no sound and every picture is supposed to have a meaning that you don’t comprehend. It was the same apartment, in the same building with all the same belongings but it was like none of it belonged.

Spencer walked over to the light that streamed from the window either side of the slowly wilting flowers he’d brought home less than a week ago. The bright colours had faded from the petals as the flora hung its head in sadness and respect. This wasn’t their burden to bear, so he picked up the vase and moved to the kitchen, each step he took becoming an insult to the respectful noiselessness.

Spilling the water into the sink, Spencer’s eyes wandered to the counter, to the single mug that had been left by the side. Perhaps she’d been too tired to wash it or tip it away. Maybe she’d just forgotten it. Either way, she wouldn’t want it now and he could tip that away too.

Wandering back through into the living room, no idea what to do with himself, Spencer searched for some kind of meaning to take away the numbness. Stopping by the coffee table, he looked down to the items on its surface, the mess she’d left behind. The corner of a thick book protruded from under a stack of newspapers, drawing his attention to the point that he had to pull it free of its entrapment. In his hands was the scrapbook that he’d brought to her to cheer her up. A whole life in these pages, one which he’d give anything to live over again.

I took the supermarket flowers from the windowsill
Threw the day old tea from the cup
Packed up the photo album that you had made
Memories of a life that’s been loved

In his bedroom there, were, even more, items, more memorabilia that would haunt him if left alone. The card that Henry and Michael had made for her, her boxes of pills on the bedside cabinet, even the strange tasting soda that she seemed to love in a bottle by the side of the bed, it all had to go. It took everything in him to even move, but it had to go.

There were many memories of when he was young… when they’d been a family, where they’d both told him to be strong, but how could he be strong right now. Sitting at the edge of the bed, it began to sink in. The reality was that he’d never hear her voice again and it was a pain he couldn’t bare. ‘All it takes is a single tear to open the floodgates’ he heard his inner voice say, but the tear came regardless.

Took the get well soon cards and stuffed animals
Poured the old ginger beer down the sink
Dad always told me don’t you cry when you’re down
But mum there’s a tear every time that I blink

“I’m so sorry,” he sobbed to no one. “I should have been there…”

The longer he sat, the more he thought of all the times he’d needed her, all the times she was there. Tears began to stream and Spencer’s face turned red in anguish of all of the things that he’ll never be able to do or say to her again. Turning back, he placed a hand on the middle of the bed where he’d found her.

Oh I’m in pieces it’s tearing me up but I know
A heart that’s broke is a heart that’s been loved

“I know…” he began before choking up. “I know that I’ve never really believed… but I need you to look after her. I’ve done what I could, and I need you to take it from here…” He laughed a little through his tears, unable to believe what he was doing but the prayer continued. “She… she was my mom and… I loved her, even when she was at her worst… but you best be thankful, because in her own way she was so amazing, and loving and…”

He couldn’t do it. The words wouldn’t keep coming, so instead, he looked up at the ceiling like he’d seen so many people with faith do and just thought the things he wanted to say.

So I’ll sing Hallelujah, you were an angel in the shape of my mum
When I fell down you’d be there holding me up
Spread your wings as you go
And when God takes you back
He’ll say Hallelujah, you’re home.

The space in the bed where she’d lay was still unmade, a sign of what had happened that needed to be removed. Frantically, he grabbed hold of the pillow, tugging at the ends so that it straightened and puffed out before pulling the corner of the duvet across. Spencer was about to lean down to pick up her nightgown when the second wave hit him like a storm surge. Crying out with tears, he held his head in his hands, sobbing once more.

“Spence…” came a warm and comforting voice, causing him to stand and look in embarrassment. In the doorway stood JJ, sympathy in her eyes and an apologetic smile on her lips. “I’m so sorry about…”

“Don’t say it,” he pleaded, more tears running down his face. “I… I can’t yet.”

“It’s ok,” she replied. “We don’t have to say or do anything yet.”

There was a short and awkward pause where neither party even seemed to breathe until Spencer broke and stepped forward. Instinctively, JJ accepted him into an embrace, wrapping him up in her arms and letting him hide against her shoulder. The pair stood, JJ rubbing his back soothingly like she would her own child, for what seemed like hours even though it was only moments.

“I need to… make arrangements…” Spencer began, standing up straight again. His cheeks and eyes were bright red from crying but his expression was determined.

“Spencer, that can wait…” she began in reply but he knew what he wanted.

“No, I wanna do it now,” he answered, another tear beginning to roll down the side of his cheek. JJ cupped his face in her hands, wiping away the tear with her thumb as she looked into his eyes and saw the need to busy himself.

“Ok,” she said. “But I’m coming with you.”

I fluffed the pillows, made the beds, stacked the chairs up
Folded your nightgowns neatly in a case
JJ said she’d drive, then put her hand on my cheek
And wiped a tear from the side of my face

Staring out of the car window, Spencer watched as all of the people went about their day. None of them seemed to show the sorrow that he felt and it made him wonder how the world could stand still for a single person as the rest of humanity went on with their lives like nothing was happening. However, he’d seen it. He knew that everyone would go through it at some point, losing someone you loved; and they’d always say that a person’s loving memory would mean that they’re never really gone. If anything, he was proud of her, knowing that even though she hadn’t had the best of lives she would always be thinking of him and the love she showed him was all he ever needed from her. Hopefully, now, she was at peace. There were no more paranoias to torment her, no more delusions, no more hallucinations. Just rest.

I hope that I see the world as you did cause I know
A life with love is a life that’s been lived
So I’ll sing Hallelujah, you were an angel in the shape of my mum
When I fell down you’d be there holding me up
Spread your wings as you go, when God takes you back
He’ll say Hallelujah, you’re home

A Lowly Worm (Fuma Kotaro x Reader)

After their first kiss, and their second, it didn’t take long for Yukimura to find the pair. Always a gentleman, he had sprung into action at what he had thought he had seen: Fuma forcing himself on ____. He supposed he could see where the other man could have gotten such an idea. His arms had undoubtedly still been beneath her sleeves as they shared their second kiss. He had no choice but to flee when Yukimura came near, sword already free from its sheath. Just before he had been forced to depart he whispered something of a promise into his love’s ear. ‘Meet me on the cliffside tonight’

Rueful was he that he couldn’t catch her expression, lest Yukimura engage him. He found no shame in fleeing, as the alternative would make her sad. Now he sat on what remained of the cliffside edge, knees tucked up to his chest and his chin resting atop of them as he waited. He’d been at it for some time now, waiting. Perhaps she didn’t wish to see him at all. Or worse off, perhaps something had happened to her on her way over. Feelings of intense guilt clutched at his heart, a rather painful headache suddenly coming about as well.

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