two storey house

To Build A Home - Chapter 2

I just want to thank everyone who read chapter one. All your messages were so kind and sweet. This fandom truly is the best. 

Tag list: (if you wish to be added/removed or if I forgot you then please let me know!) @toxicsanders @tinysidestrashcaptain @xxrosethehumanxx @migraine-marathon @penstarz96 @undertakershairline @thatcraxygirl15 @kittyboof8 @celiawhatsherlastname @yep-another-fander @pantasticpanini @aikogumi @cefmua56 @emo-space-trash @cleverly-logan @hanramz-the-fander @not-so-innocent-bi-sander @thisisthepumpkinqueen @that-space-gay-writes @maya-tl @infinitesimally-patton @all-the-fand0mz @thebeautyofthomas @emma123patka @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @twinkly-lights

WARNINGS: Child abuse, nightmares, insecure thoughts and slight panic attacks. Please let me know if you want any other warnings added!

Also, there are a couple of questions I’ve been asked multiple times which I am going to answer here. 
Question One: How long will this story be?
Answer: I’m planning at least ten chapters, maybe more, maybe less but I will totally let you know as we go on. I’m writing this story as it comes to me.
Question Two: Is Roman going to be in this fanfiction at all, and what will his part be?
Answer: I can’t give you a straight (pardon the pun) answer here because it may give things away. Just know that I love my dramatic son and he will be involved in this universe at some point but for now the focus is Virgil, Patton and Logan. So (as difficult as it may be) place Roman at the back of your mind while reading this fiction (but do not worry, he will turn up!)

Also on AO3 here

Anyway, enough from me. Please enjoy!

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It’ll Be Okay

Fandom: The Chronicles of Narnia

Word count: 1838

Characters: Peter x reader, Susan

Warnings: pregnancy, vomiting, Peter getting nervous

Summary: Requested by @penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories. Peter doesn’t know how to react when he finds out about your pregnancy.

You let your pen drop to your desk triumphantly, just to the side of the letter you’d been writing. Your signature was still shining on the page. You had spent far too long working on that- you weren’t the skilled writer that Susan or Edmund were. Still, it was done now. You could send it later.

It felt good to get to your feet and stretch. Deep orange sunlight tumbled through the window and over your writing desk. You had worked right through the afternoon without realising it.

As if to punctuate the realisation, your stomach gave a disgruntled mutter. You rubbed it absent-mindedly. Dinner wouldn’t be served until Peter and Lucy returned from their ride, and that wouldn’t be for a few hours yet. Perhaps, if you went down to the kitchens, they would have something there that you could eat to keep yourself going.

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Attention Riverdale Fandom!

Listen. There is something very important that needs to be discussed…

Jughead and Archie sharing a room.

Yes yes, we’ve all seen how great it is that Archie is helping his friend but I’m not talking about the morality of all this. I’m talking about the schematics.

Because??? The Andrews have a Big Ass Fucking House. Two storeys. With only three people living there. There has got to be at LEAST two spare bedrooms, possibly even three (though that may be stretching just a little).

Now think. In this big ass house with at least two spare bedrooms, what reason would Jug and Archie have to share??


Absolutely none.

Except… That they just plain wanted to.

A Chance Encounter: Chapter Six - Dylan O’Brien

Author: @susybird

Relationship: Dylan O’Brien x Reader

Description: Fluff, swearing, SMUT! You and Dylan go hiking, which leads to you visiting his place for the first time.

Word Count: 2718

Author’s Note: Okay so first of all I have no idea where Dylan actually lives or what his house looks like so those details are obviously made up for the benefit of this story!!!! Also its also my first time writing smut so I’m sorry :| A big thank you to the beautiful @redstringlovers for proofreading and encouragement! Sammie this chapter wouldn’t exist without you!!!

As always any feedback would be great… honestly I don’t bite :) Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

Chapter Five - Chapter Seven

Chapter Six

Originally posted by couplenotes

“Hiking?” Dylan laced up his adidas runners and looked up at me with a pained expression. “Hiking!”

I chuckled. “Exercise is good for you. Plus it’s fun!”

“This isn’t exercise, it’s torture! And you and I have very different definitions of fun.” Dylan gestured his hands wildly to emphasise his point.

I grinned wickedly at him then jerked my head at the uphill path. “First one to the top gets to choose dinner tonight,” I told him before taking off, my feet hitting the ground running.

“Oh no you didn’t.” I heard Dylan laughing behind me, his heavy footfalls gaining on me.

I snuck a look over my shoulder and saw Dylan almost on top of me. I squealed and tried to run faster. Dylan gave a breathless laugh and I felt his large hands around my waist. He lifted me into the air, spinning me around and then drawing me close to his body, my back pressed tightly against his front.

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New Home

This was inspired by this post. Conner and Danny are both 16 in this. And I’m working with Young Justice  version of Superboy.  This is sometime before the end of DP and first season of YJ. I did my best, but probably they sound kind of OOC.

Conner could only stare at the monumental construction before him. Yes, he had seen pictures and heard Danny talk about it when The Team was hanging out, but it was a lot more impressive and dangerous looking in person. The Fenton Works itself was just a two-storey house with big neon sign, but The Emergency Ops Center on the top made it look 10 times bigger. He shook his head and followed Danny to the front door.

Danny slowly unlocked the front door and stepped into the house. He was already halfway in the living room when he noticed that Conner wasn’t following him. He was still standing on the porch in his usual civilian attire and nervously gripping his duffel bag containing some clothes and personal belongings. He had a frown on his face, but Danny could see that he was anxious about their next course of action. Danny went back to Conner a smiled at him reassuringly.

„Relax, it would be fine. They didn’t have problem adopting Dani and they wouldn’t mind you living here either.” Conner smiled a little and entered the house.

When they stopped in the living room, Conner immediately scanned the whole place. The room looked cozy with a couch, two armchairs and even few plants in the corners. It had the homely feeling you get only in family houses. Danny motioned to the couch.

„Wait here for a bit, I’m just going to call Mom and Dad up here.”

Conner nodded and Danny went into the kitchen and leaned into the passage leading down to the lab. He steeled himself, took a deep breath and shouted.

„Mom! Dad! Can you come to the living room for a second? I need to ask you something!” The almost constant banging and whirring noises of machines stopped after few seconds and Maddie’s voice carried back.

„We’ll be right there in a minute, sweetie!”

Danny went back to living room and stood next to Conner. „Here we go, remember; if they ask you are our long forgotten cousin from dad’s side, ok?”

„Don’t worry, I remember.” Gruffly answered Conner and straightened up when he heard thunderous steps coming from the basement. Moments later both Fentons appeared in the door frame clad in their typical HAZMAT suits.

„So Danny-boy what did you want to- Oh, why didn’t you tell us you were bringing over a friend?!” Jack cheerfully exclaimed and moved into Conner’s personal space. „What’s your name young man? Do you like talking about ghosts? We’ll catch all of them sooner or later…“ Jack started mumbling to himself and Danny took it as his cue to speak. „Actually Dad, this is our distant cousin Conner and I wanted to ask if he could stay with us for a while, because….because they have serious pest infestation at their house… or something…” Danny trailed off unsurely and rubbed the back of his neck. Conner could only look at Danny from corner of his eye and raise eyebrow at the transparent lie. The older Fentons looked at each other for a minute and then turned back to them. Even Danny’s parents couldn’t possibly-

„But of course sweetie! He can stay in here however long he needs.” Then Maddie turned to Conner. „And you feel here like at home Conner.” Conner could only nod.

„And I can blabber to him about ghosts!” Jack nodded enthusiastically.

„Now Danny please show Conner to the guest room so he can unpack, dinner will be ready in 30 minutes.” Maddie ushered them to the stairs. Both boys only numbly stared at each other and silently walked on the second floor to the guest room. When they finally closed the door to Conner’s new room Danny let out a huge breath and plopped on the bed.

„Phew, I was worried for a second they won’t agree.”

„Why didn’t you just tell them the truth?”

„Ehhh… Because that would require them knowing I’m Phantom?”

Conner shot him incredulous look. „You still haven’t told them?”

Danny squeezed his eyes shut and let out a long suffering groan. „They don’t see Phantom as an evil menace anymore, but they still don’t trust him completely and if I told them now, who says they won't…“ Danny trailed off and there was a short period of uncomfortable silence before Danny suddenly smiled and spoke again. „Anyway, Dani will be back from her trip to Europe sometime this week so prepare to wake up to a 13 year old girl jumping on your bed.” Conner smiled too when he remembered the short black haired girl. She was almost like a younger sister to him. But there was a little issue with their…relationship, namely…

„Will she be staying for good now?”

„Yeah, she said she was bored of travelling and decided to stay. She would be in Jazz’s room down the hall, since she now lives in a college campus as a part of her ‘college experience’ or something.”   Danny shrugged.

„That’s good… I guess.” The silence was back. Neither of the boys wanted to break the silence, but eventually Danny stood up and made his way to the door. But before he opened the door, he stopped as if he remembered something and turned back to Conner.

„I almost forgot. Welcome to the family, Conner.”


Superman looked on the outside stoic as ever as Team recapitulated their latest mission. But inside he was as nervous as the Man of Steel could be. And the only reason for that was Danny. Or rather Phantom at the moment. Superman wasn’t particularly fond of his ghost half for various reasons. The slow heartbeat, ethereal glow and other small details made him uneasy. He grew up as a Kansas boy, believing traditional myths about dead, but Danny shattered almost all of them. And the worst part was when his eyes became dead. Most of the time they were expressive and shone with friendliness, but lately ever time Superman looked at him; his eyes were cold and dark as if he somehow offended him beyond imagination. He didn’t know why. Did he say something that ghost thought of as an insult or a threat?

Later when he asked Bruce, the Bat only shook his head and left without a word.

Help! Not Just Anybody

Props to @louiseeleanorbee for helping me come up with the title way back when I wrote this.

Also…. So Y/N was Ella’s Mom in Secrets And Lies but in this story it’s a COMPLETELY different character. I was gonna use an OC but in my experience, people prefer reader characters sooo… Don’t get confused.

“How many more have we got left?” Spencer asked JJ with a loud sigh.

His friend look at the page in front of her and squinted. “Two. The next one should be along any second now. I’ll go put another coffee on whilst we wait. You doing okay?”

Reid nodded, grasping Jen’s hand when she squeezed his shoulder as she stood.

“I’m good. Just tired. And fed up of listening to people tell me how they’d raise my daughter for me. And then seeing the judgement on their face when they hear about her sister.”

“What’s funny is watching them struggle to hide their judgement. From two profilers at that. Nah, don’t think so,” JJ grinned at him, collecting their mugs.

“You’re doing the right thing Spence. A live in nanny will help you so much. And it’s not like you can’t afford it. You won’t have to worry about finding last minute sitters or having to run Ella over to Georgia or Amanda in the middle of the night. And I know you’ve missed being out in the field.”

“I know. It just….it feels like I’m asking someone to replace her mom. And that’s not right.”

Jennifer tilted her head to the side and gave Spencer another smile, a sadder one this time.

“You’re not though and she knows that. But you miss your job and Hotch can’t keep you out of the field forever, not unless you switch departments. And it’s not often were out of state for more than two or three days at most recently. I can’t remember the last long one…. ”

“Seventeen months and four days ago. We were out for thirteen days. The Edison Strangler.”

“See, good run. And you’re offering a great deal here. Accommodation, a car, an amazing salary. Jessica was doing all of that for free when she was looking after Jack. And you can’t rely on Georgia or Amanda forever. Amanda loves her grandchild to pieces but she’s getting on a bit herself and expecting her to take care of a nine year old constantly is a bit much.”

Reid shoved his hands through his hair. “I know, I know that you’re right. And I’m sure once we find the right one I’ll feel better about this.”

“You will, I promise. Now, coffee?”

JJ left the room leaving Spencer to his thoughts. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about having a stranger live with them and looking after Ella but both JJ and Georgia had convinced him that it was the right thing to do. Gee would still have Ella on the last weekend of the month but she couldn’t keep picking her up from school for him, not now that she had gone back to work full time. It hadn’t been so bad before when the girls were at the same school but when Gee had remarried and moved in with her new husband it meant a new school district for Ellie.

After Ella’s mom had died and Spencer had finally managed to pull his head together enough to care for his daughter, he’d made the decision to move Ella and him to a two storey town house near to his old home with Georgia, changing her schools so that she was in the same one as Ellie. But now, he hadn’t wanted to uproot her again, she’d already changed schools twice and although Ella and Ellie were obviously close, they hadn’t actually been in the same class so had both made other friends. It didn’t seem fair to make her change schools just so that it would be easier on him because she could go home with Ellie and wait there until Spencer could collect her. So for the past six months Spencer had been relying on Ella’s Grandma Amanda to travel across town to pick her up or Georgia and Tim, Gee’s new husband, to watch her until he could get home from work. Occasionally even Will would pitch in and Ella would spend time with Henry.

It was all affecting Spencer and Ella badly. When he had free time he wanted to be able to spend it with Ella, and when it was his weekends to have Ellie he wanted to be able to take the girls out. Instead, because he was rarely at home until late in the week because of work and then having to drive to various places to collect Ella from whichever caregiver was looking after her, chores were piling up which meant he needed to spend time doing them. He was also neglecting his job because he was constantly having to think about making sure he was in a certain place at a certain time, or what things he needed to do that night before he could finally rest. Hotch had been fantastic about letting Spencer stay at HQ but that wasn’t what Spencer had signed up for when he joined the FBI. He actually enjoyed travelling to the different states on cases but because of his situation, he’d had to pull back from that a lot. And so JJ had suggested he look into a nannying service. He had the room at home for a live in and he could afford it. Having someone there all the time would make things easier for him and Ella, she could come home from school and start her homework straight away and be in her own home. And as part of the role would be basic housekeeping, he wouldn’t have to worry about chores so could spend more time with Ella, and Ellie when he had her.

He was just apprehensive about having someone in his home with him. But he could see the benefits of it so had finally called JJ and had sh to and Derek help him redecorate and kit out the spare bedroom, as well as contacting agencies to put in ads. As Ella’s godmother, JJ was helping with the interviews although he could tell that she was getting exasperated with him. They’d interviewed last weekend too and none of the eight applicants they’d seen had been right in his eyes. They’d seen another five today, with two more to go. Hearing a knock on the front door he realised that the next applicant had arrived. He sighed deeply to himself.

Y/N had been sitting in her car for the last twenty five minutes, parked slightly up the road from the home of her next potential employer.

Her current family that she’d been with for four years were leaving for England in three weeks time and although she’d been offered positions with three other families, she hadn’t felt that initial click with the parents that she liked to. Whilst her main focus was of course the children she’d be looking after, Y/N had found that most children liked her and that she could adapt to them. It was the parents that were the problem. If she couldn’t work with them, she wouldn’t enjoy the job and that would have a negative effect on the children and her. And she wanted to be happy with her work, especially when it was one that involved her living in on the job.

Her next prospective employer was Dr Spencer Reid of the FBI. Her existing employers had actually informed her of the current new position, suggesting she go for it. The mom of her current charges had heard about the job from another mom at the school, a woman known as Jen. Jen was one of Dr Reid’s colleagues and friend, and had asked that Y/N go and interview when she learned that she wouldn’t be joining the family in England.

Y/N had done her research on the man, discovering that he was 37 years of age and had numerous degrees and accreditations, more than seemed humanly possible for a man his age who’d had a full time position within the FBI since he was 24. His resume was impressive and sightly intimidating to her but she wasn’t going to let that show. Her lack of degrees and honours had no reflection on her abilities as a caregiver. Interestingly enough the articles she’d read had not mentioned the fact that he was father, only stating that he was divorced and resided in Virginia. She guessed that given his job he liked to keep as much of his personal life as private as he could.

Checking her appearance in the rear view mirror a final time, Y/N gathered her bag and her resume up, locking her car and making her way to the front door. She was surprised when a pretty blonde woman answered the door, a woman she recognised from the gates of the school. She wasn’t there often but when she was, her son would always run to her beaming.

“Hi. I’m JJ. You must be Y/N?” her smile was welcoming and Y/N grinned back, extending her hand to be shook.

“Hello! Yes, I am. I recognise you from Green Acres.”

“Ah yes, Henry loves it there. Come on through and I’ll take you in to meet Spencer. I’ll pre warn you now, he’s a little cranky. This is the second weekend of interviewing.”

JJ was feeling optimistic about this applicant. Another school mom that she talked to had recommended her, singing her praises and lamenting how sad the family were that they couldn’t convince Y/N to join them in England. Jen had seen her too at the school gates, picking up her charges and they always seemed pleased to see her. Maybe that families loss would be Spencer and Ella’s gain.

JJ led Y/N through to dining room to where Spencer was sitting gripping a cup of coffee like his life depended on it. She felt bad for her friend, but she truly believed this was best option if Reid wanted to keep working at the BAU.

“Spencer, this is Y/F/N. Y/N, this is Dr Spencer Reid.”

Y/N crossed the room quickly and held her hand out to him, surprised when he didn’t take it. Behind her she heard JJ sigh.

“He has a thing about hand shaking…. ”

“The amount of bacteria passed during a single handshake is….” the man began to speak.

“Spencer, really? I’ve heard you say that line to every single applicant. You really should just shake their hands, it’s polite.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Don’t worry Dr Reid, I completely understand,” Y/N did to an extent, the amount of germs and bacteria the human came into contact with each day was immense and she always drilled good cleanliness and hygiene practices into her charges, carrying bottles of antibacterial gel in her bag at all times.

JJ touched her arm and gestured to one of the chairs. “Please, take a seat. Can I get you a drink or anything?”

“I’m fine actually, thank you. I have bottled water in my bag, one of the habits of being a nanny, always having snacks and drinks with you wherever you go.”

She didn’t mention the apple, boxes of raisins and the zip lock bag of carrot sticks she also had, or the bag of Reeses miniature pieces.

“Alrighty then,” JJ pulled up the seat next to Dr Reid. “Let’s begin. I’m Ella’s godmother, so I’m helping Spencer out. We’re trying to keep this relatively informal. If you could just tell us about yourself and how you came into this profession?”

“Okay, erm… So I’m 26 years old and I’ve been nannying for eight years with two separate families.”

“So you started when you were eighteen?” Dr Reid furrowed his brow slightly.

“Yes,“ Y/N replied, knowing where this was going.

“Did you not go to college?” he asked.

Had he not even read her resume at all?


“Can I asked why not?”

“You can. You see, I had a bit of a turbulent time during my teenage years, I’m not going to lie and cover that up. My mom passed away when I was eleven leaving my dad and I, and my three younger siblings. Up until I was fifteen I was the good little daughter, helping to raise them and ultimately taking over from my mother. It felt natural to me, I’m great with kids hence why I do what I do. Then a few months after my fifteenth birthday I seemed to hit a brick wall and suddenly careered drastically off course. I started hanging with a bad crowd at school, skipping classes and generally being a teenage tearaway. My school work slipped massively and I suddenly had no ambition in life. I finally managed to pull myself back a few months before graduation but by then it was too late. I barely scraped together enough credits to graduate.”

Y/N paused to take a sip from her water bottle that she’d pulled from her bag.

“After I left school I started waitressing at this little diner. A family used to come in at least three times a week. A mom and her two kids. They were regulars, the mom worked long hours so didn’t want to waste time to home cooking so she took the kids out to eat most nights, and the dad worked away a lot. I started making small talk with them and getting to know them and after around four months, the mom approached me and asked if I’d ever consider nannying. She’d seen how good I was with her kids. She loved her job dearly but was feeling pressure to give it up because she felt like she was neglecting her kids. They had different sitters a few nights a week and she was constantly being let down. They had a spare room at the house and she offered me a better wage than what I was making at the diner. It was a no brainer really. I ended up staying with them for five years, until the youngest was headed off to middle school. I still see the family regularly. During my time with them, I completed some courses at the community college so I at least had some basic qualifications. I found my latest family, the Thompsons through my first job. The moms worked together. I’ve been with them for three years and would stay with them longer still except I don’t wish to move to another country despite the very attractive package they’ve offered me to go. My own family and friends are here, and two years ago I started taking a weekend class at the college, working towards a degree in psychology. It involves some online learning modules which I’ve been doing when the children were at school. Eventually I want to become a guidance counsellor so hopefully I can help other children make the right decisions instead of flying off the handles like I did.”

Both JJ and Dr Reid were nodding by the time she finished, JJ a genuine looking smile on her face. JJ then began to explain the ins and outs of what this particular position would entail. Only one child which Y/N wasn’t used to, but she would be on call pretty much all the time. Due to the nature of their jobs Dr Reid could be away for days at a time.

“The last weekend of every month you’d have free though. My ex wife looks after Ella then and she would still be on call for emergencies as would Ella’s grandmother. I am home most weekends, in recent months our unsubs seem to have been thoughtful enough to keep their activities to weekdays,” Dr Reid chuckled nervously at his joke and Y/N indulged him with a grin.

“Ella’s mom only has her once a month?” she did ask, feeling confused.

“Erm no,” a glance between Dr Reid and JJ.

“Ella’s mom passed away four years ago. Ella spends time with my ex wife so she can see her sister. You’ll meet her too and part of your role could also entail looking after her if I’m called into work suddenly on the weekends I have her. That’s only happened a handful of times though,” he explained.

“Oh okay. So how old is Ella’s sister?”

“She’s also nine. Ellie is four months younger than Ella…. ”

Y/N’s brain did the maths and took in the slightly sheepish look on the man’s face, noticing how attractive he actually was. It sounded like Dr Reid hadn’t quite been the oh so faithful husband which was odd. Y/N was no expert but she somehow didn’t expect that from the man sat in front of her, but then again people change.

Dr Reid sighed loudly, an annoyed look crossing his features.

“I can see you judging me. The same look every applicant has had so far when I’ve mentioned Ellie.”

He was right, she was.

“Sorry,” Y/N apologised. “I thought I was doing a better job of hiding my judgement, I guess I’d have to work on that being around a profiler. You do kinda deserve it though, you’ve got to at least expect it, especially when you don’t give the whole story.”

Dr Reid looked shocked and JJ’s grin grew wider. Every other applicant had stumbled over their words and blushed when Spencer had called them out on it, which he’d done every single time. He knew he deserved the judgement, the girl was right. This one though, was the first applicant to actually respond honestly and openly to his accusations.

Jen was pleasantly surprised though when Spencer pushed back his chair and stood.

“Y/N, would you like a tour of the house? I can show you the bedroom that would be yours if you accept the job offer, and you can see Ella’s room.”

“Wait… Job offer? Is the interview over?”

Dr Reid nodded. “It is for me at least. I appreciate how honest you’ve been with me about your past, and I respect that you didn’t try to lie when I called you out just then. As a profiler, you learn to read people and from what I’m reading from you, I think you’d be very good for my daughter. If you want the job, it’s yours.”

A silent ‘yes’ went through JJ and she resisted the urge to fist pump when Y/N stood up next to him.

“Show me my new bedroom then, Dr Reid.”

“Please, it’s Spencer.”

Creepypasta #1135: I Believe In Goatman

Length: Long

Goatman lives. I know it. I remember, the first time I heard a story about him, I didn’t believe it. Ghosts, I believed in. Spirits, sure. But a half man, half goat creature that wandered the woods and terrorized people? This was too much, even for my fertile imagination.

My grandfather grew up in Northern Ontario, where his family worked in the mining industry. He was the first one who ever told me about Goatman. One bitterly cold winter, when he was just a boy, a huge snowstorm blew through the area.

He remembered, at dinnertime, his father talking about how, when he was making his way home after gathering some firewood in the woods, he saw in the distance the figure of a man walking through the forest, bent against the wind and snow. He had called to him, but received no answer. Everyone thought it was a wandering vagrant, or someone who had gotten lost as the storm blew up, and was searching for shelter.

That night, though, Grandpa said that his family had woken up and seen what looked like a man walking around the house, looking in the windows. Come morning, they went to check it out. Instead of fresh human boot or shoe prints in the snow, they saw cloven hoof-prints. And that’s where the story ended. His story, anyway.

My grandparents had moved a couple of hours away from that area, and I grew up living next door to them, in a gold mining town. I am an only child, and my best friend was my cousin, Tanya, who lived in the same town. We’d spend every summer in the woods around my grandparents and my house. Those woods had a magical quality to them. They felt extremely safe and wholesome, like the Hundred Acre Wood from Winnie the Pooh or something. We’d play for hours in those woods, pretending we were Celtic princesses, or pioneer women. But one day, we wandered a little too far.

This was Northern Ontario, so our entire town was surrounded by bush and rock, being part of the Canadian shield. Not far beyond the safe, happy-feeling woods behind my grandparent’s house was the lake the town had taken its name from. When I was little, it was a beautiful spot, but the mine had drained it do some exploration. A chain link fence surrounded the perimeter and our parents had always warned us not to go near there – it could be really dangerous.

Tanya was a show-off. At sixteen years old she was only one year ahead of me, but boy did she lord it over me. She was petite, with graceful curves, blonde hair, blue eyes and a flawless complexion. Boys fawned over her. I, on the other hand, was an awkward fifteen year old, with thick, long brown hair, glasses, braces and an acne problem. She was sweet, and always told me I was pretty and helped me to feel better about myself, but she made no secret that she thought she was drop dead gorgeous.

Tanya was also a lot more worldly than me. I was bookish, naive, and didn’t have experience with boys. She’d already had several boyfriends and had tried smoking and drinking – two things I refused to do. So, it didn’t surprise me when she said we should travel down to the fence that bordered the drained-out lake and flash the few guys who would be sitting in their diggers that were working there.

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Living That No-Neighbor Life

@braedens | AO3everybody probably knows by now that ace!Derek is my favorite thing, so bless you for giving me an excuse to write more of it ^u^

by @clotpolesonly

“So the real estate agent makes the assumption that their marriage involves sex. Most people do! Derek sees it on his face the second Stiles decides to be a dick about it this time, but he knows better than to think he can stop it. All he can do is pinch the bridge of his nose and brace himself as the bright, false smile lights up his beloved husband’s face.”

The first place was an apartment and it was too cramped. The second was a duplex but wasn’t nearly nice enough for the price. The third was a tract house that may or may not have been the set of a horror movie in the past, or if it hadn’t then it was missing its chance. By the fourth place, Derek was starting to lose faith in their frazzled but determinedly perky real estate agent.

“This next one is a real zinger,” she said after each flop. “Best of the bunch! I’ve been fighting people off with a stick!”

Stiles had snorted the first two times she’d said it, laughed outright the third, and by now he had resorted to mocking her under his breath and shooting exasperated looks at Derek.

Derek could handle the perkiness if he had to—that sort of attitude tended to deflate when it ran into his natural stoicism anyway, at least after a while—but Stiles’ tendency towards earnest-sounding sarcasm just added fuel to her fire when she didn’t recognize that it was sarcasm. She took it at face value and genuinely thought that he was as excited as she was.

With this mistaken camaraderie in mind, she seemed to have taken Stiles as more of a new friend than a client she needed to be professional with. She kept whispering asides to him conspiratorially, thinking Derek couldn’t hear her, which made the both of them roll their eyes as soon as she turned away to espouse the virtues of the newest property.

It was never anything bad or mean-spirited, at least. Just gossipy.

“No worrying about landlords here, no sir! Only so many times you can lie about the dog before you lose your mind, am I right?”

“The owner says these are the original floors, but between you and me? Definitely repanelled. Twice!”

“Hell of a catch you got with this one, kid. Hubba-hubba!”

That last one was a little cringe-worthy, but it was far from the first time Derek had overheard comments like that about himself. He was used to it, and even Stiles had taken that one on the chin with a smile and a “Yup, he’s all mine!”

But then they reached the seventh place on the agent’s never-ending list. It was a gorgeous two-storey house with an open floor plan, a backyard that bordered a small strip of woods, and an isolation that drove the price down where they could afford it without dipping into the Hale insurance money. Derek was smiling almost as soon as he got out of the car, seeing wide windows perfectly positioned to let in the kind of light he would need for his painting. Stiles bumped his shoulder on the way up the drive and took off to explore as soon as the agent got the door open.

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xemmaloveskillianx  asked:

Captain Swan + 21 :D

I’m gonna be weird and experiment and try change it up a little. Hope this works!

She remembers the day she’d walked into Mary Margaret on the verge of a panic attack the day she found out she had a half brother. Some guy three years her senior had found her on facebook and informed her that he and his recently deceased brother were her half siblings, and he wanted to meet up to get to know the only family he had left. Only problem was, 1. Mary Margaret’s parents were dead and she had no way of confirming if what he was saying was true, 2. He lived in England. 

Emma had jumped at the chance to check the guy out, and Mary Margaret had conversed with him more, pushing for proof that what he was saying was true. After a number of old photos sent to her confirmed her father was indeed sitting next to another woman and two little boys, and Emma’s background check had pulled a suspicious birth certificate, it was official that she was no longer an only child. She’d had two brothers she never knew about all these years.

Emma also remembers the nerves her best friend had as they sat waiting in Starbucks, David also there to support his fiancé for the life changing moment, awaiting the arrival of Mr Killian Jones (turns out Brennan  had changed his name to Blanchard when he arrived in the states 30 years ago).

She remembers the surprising jolt that shot through her at seeing the striking man approach the table. His blurry passport picture she’d managed to pull along with the terrible facebook profile picture did not do him justice. He was charming, witty, kind… 
Mary Margaret asked her each time she met with him to accompany her, and Emma found herself all too happy to oblige. She found she liked his company, much more than her best friend, who seemed to be having trouble adjusting to the news and her new sibling. Mary Margaret was weary, and more importantly, Killian knew.

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Stepping Into Truth

I gulp two fingers of scotch, shoving the plastic bottle back into the backseat of my car, my hair still wet from a shower an hour ago that did something to counter the cigarettes I had this morning. I turned twenty one last week; most people would guess me for thirty. Helps that I don’t need to lie for the booze, doesn’t help the contents of my fridge at home. The drink helps with the cold, and stops my hands from shaking a little.

I hate my job. It’s the only thing I’m good at. I pull the old doctor’s handbag out of the passenger seat of my car, close the door carefully. Wouldn’t do for the door to fall off. Bad image. The client is waiting at the door to the home. Two storey house, basement, brown picket fence. Looks like the rest of a cookie-cutter street except the for sale sign is worn almost to nothing in contrast to sold signs down the street. Windows shuttered, lawn overgrown, and the client’s car is parked half a block away.

Moria Larsen is thin and stern, with eyes like scraped chalkboards and an expression to match But she paid the retainer fee up front and judging by her clothing can afford a bonus as well. Pretty much why I showered, that. From the look on her face, my effort doesn’t make much of an impact.

“You’re late, Mr. Dover.”


“I have been waiting outside for four minutes. You will go inside, do the deed, and that will be that.” She walks past me, giving me a berth. I probably should have shaved as well. Or not slept in my clothing. Moria moves swiftly, the haste perhaps overkill. She doesn’t want to be here, and definitely didn’t want to wait outside. Fair enough, given what happened here. Sometimes all ghosts do is make a wound that never closes.

I walk to the front door, take the key I was given yesterday. It turns in the door, and I push it open. The air smells stale. No lights, but I have a flashlight in my bag and flick it on. I have three others in my bag, some chalk, a few candles. Also a gun I’ve never used. The gun is pretty much for show: I’ve yet to run into a ghost that could be shot. But you never know.

The flashlight is cheap, but the beam is decent. I walk across carpet, scan the living room. The house is mostly furnished; finding a removal company to take everything away is hard after the press has poured over your life with combs meant only for gouging flesh. The gist had been that Moria’s husband left her a week before she had a business trip to attend. She left her son with a sitter. The baby sitter left with his boyfriend for a few hours and got in an accident so never made it back. And her son, at some point, fell down the basement stairs and died. Broken legs, desperate attempts to get out. Windows closed tightly and no one hearing him.

It doesn’t take much to make a ghost. Sometimes the rumour alone can do it. But it doesn’t take much to get rid of them as well: a strong will can do it, and that Moria hadn’t was interesting. I was the third exorcist she’d tried. Also the most expensive; dealing with the dead isn’t fun, and neither is putting them to rest. But the flashlight works, I don’t sense cold spots: not that I would, given my clothing is better suited to the summer and I don’t have much of it.

I shake myself free of the mundane. “Jamel? Jamel Larsen?” I wait. Sometimes they come to their names. Nothing moves, nothing flies toward me. Expensive living room furniture, the kitchen beyond is as sterile as a magazine photo. I head into the basement from the kitchen. One freezer, a pantry, the rest cement floors and unfinished wood walls. My flashlight doesn’t flicker. There are stains on the wooden stairs and the cement floor. The stars aren’t in good condition, the pantry door double-padlocked and the freezer the same. Odd, but I let it go and head back upstairs. The second floor has two bedrooms, bathroom, master bedroom with its own bathroom. I check the spare bedroom and master bedroom first, and then head to the room that belonged to Jamel.

The door opens. The room is plain, like the other bedrooms. White walls, beige carpet, no paintings. The bed covers have rocket ships on them, the only sign the room was used by a child at all.


There is an intake of breath, the closest thing to a cold spot yet. I move to the bed, look under it. The ghost is crowded against the wall, pale eyes and skin glowing faintly as he wheezed for air. He looks too scared to haunt anyone, but fear can be a strange master. He moves back against the wood, eyes wide. I move the flashlight slowly. Eight, the same age as when he died. I saw no pictures. Didn’t want to.

But this Jamel is still eight. Chubby, pale, scared. His legs look whole. I flick the flashlight off and stand.

“You want to talk?”

It is almost five minutes before the ghost crawls out from under the bed. I move back to avoid stepping through the ghost as he stands. He’s wearing a t-shirt that’s almost too small, jeans whose button can’t close and covers his belly. His cheeks flare red with a ghostly blush.

I sit down on the bed. After a bit, he sits beside me, not looking over.

“What happened to the other exorcists?” I ask.

“They tried to hurt me,” he whispers. “I scared them away. In the b-b-bbasement, I scared them.”

“You didn’t try and scare me?”

“I don’t like it. Being down there. It scares me.” I glance over. Jamel hugs himself, lets go quickly, refusing to look at me. “And you feel different,” he adds. “Like I couldn’t scare you.”

“Perhaps not. I had a few drinks earlier. That helps.”

“Moria sent you.”

“She was outside. Briefly. Was that why you were hiding?”

“Partly,” the ghost says. The bed creaks as he shifts position. Most ghosts that can move things tend to use it to harm others. I’m not sure he’s even aware of doing it.

“I am good at exorcising ghosts, but I don’t know what happens after that. No one does. I try not to, if I can avoid it. Knowing what happened here could help, if you can tell me.”

The ghost says nothing, his breath a thin wheezing.

“Your mother took to locking up the freezer and the pantry because she had a fat son. That much I can guess,” I say softly, and the ghost turns his head and nods once. “I don’t know when you fell. Or who caused it.”

“The baby sitter. Austin. Mom told him I wasn’t to – to get more fat. Everything would be better when she got home. Like a command. He – the fridge, I… was hungry, and I hate, and he thought mom would – mom would…”

“Hurt him?”

“Maybe? I don’t –.” Jamel is quiet for a bit, hands tight against his belly. He moves them apart when he realizes I’m looking at him. I just wait. “Austin pushed me. He didn’t mean to. I fell, my legs broke. He said it was because I was so fat, said he’d get help. He called his boyfriend. They were going to – to get a doctor they knew. A vet, maybe? Someone to help, and they never came back.”

“They had a car accident. And have left the city, as far as I know. Austin was in a coma for three days; I don’t know about his boyfriend. They were speeding, the police followed, they crashed. Some people think your mom killed you.”

“She – she – she –.” His voice cracks. The floor shakes a little bit.

“She did, without touching you. Shame is a weapon used against children.”

“She wanted me thin, Handsome, like my name. A p – a proper son.” The ghost stands. Swift, angry, though not at me. He pulls his t-shirt off.

The headline of ‘exorcist involved in ghost porn’ goes through my head. I don’t move; most ghosts can’t remove what they wear, in my experience, and I have no idea what might happen if I interrupt. Jamel has another shirt under it, a spandex affair that makes me wince at how tight it is. That his clothing is tied so deeply to his image says too many things.

“Mom wanted to make sure people don’t know I was this fat,” the ghost whispers unsteadily. “I have spandex pants, too, under my pants –.”

“I don’t need to see that,” I say quickly.

The ghost stares at me, and lets out a sound. “I… I didn’t…” He pulls the shirt back on, faster. His face is red, and the rest of him is pink as well.

“I’ve never been subjected to a ghost stripping before. That’s probably scarier than what I’d see in the basement,” I add dryly.

Jamel stares, then lets out a surprised giggle. “Your face was…. I think I surprised you?”

“Yes. I’d rather not be surprised like that again.” I stand. “I can help you, if you let me.”

He stands as well, not moving. I step through the ghost. Being possessed is painful; possessing a ghost even more so. But it takes a moment, and another, and I’m back onto the bed and shaking from the cold.

Jamel stares at me in confusion.

“Shirt,” I get out from between my teeth.

The ghost lets out a small gasp.

“You couldn’t access what you were; I jogged a few things loose.”

Jamel blinks. His shirt fits perfectly now, with no other shirt under it. His pants do as well, and his breathing is less of a wheeze as the ghost moves slowly about the room.  

“You can alter your appearance better. Move things, if you need to. And you’re no longer tied to this place.”

“What do I do?” he asks in a small voice.

“What you wish, but nothing that will lead to an exorcist being called. That’s our arrangement.”  

He nods. “I could talk to mom. I could explain, if that would – wouldn’t lead to –.” The ghost boy looks away from me. “It would.”

“Probably. Moria has demons enough of her own, I imagine.”

I have no idea if she does, but it helps him a little. He nods. “There is this shop I liked, a candy one….”

And the ghost vanishes a moment later. I let out a breath, take a few more minutes to gather myself, and walk outside. I tell Moria Larsen that it’s done and that she can go inside.

I walk away without waiting for payment, or to find out if she does.

Cry Wolf - Part Six

Summary: Dean loves his little sister, just as much as he loves his little brother, even if she isn’t technically his sister. But there’s a reason his Dad took her in, and it’s not purely out of the goodness of his heart. Could the girl who believes herself to be Sam’s twin really be a bomb just waiting to go off?
Words: 1470
Warnings: None really for this part… I don’t think.
AN: I am on a roll!!! Not sure how many parts are left for this series. I’ve got the next part partially written already, and about three parts planned after that… I already know how this series is going to end, it’s just a matter of getting there  XD

Constructive Criticism Welcome!!!



“Sometimes, I freaking hate werewolves,” you growled, pulling your hair free of the style you’d been wearing it in all day as you slowly meandered back to the car. Gale and Connor chuckled as you approached, both leaning against the Jeep you’d arrived in just 20 minutes ago. “They’re rude, messy, and clearly have no respect for personal property!”

The other two exchanged bemused expressions before Gale spoke up. “You know you’re included in that, right? Or have you forgotten how we picked your sorry ass up off the forest floor?” she said, standing up straight when you finally reached the car and slumped forward on the hood.

Rolling your eyes, you recalled clearly the events of that night. How they’d kept you on lockdown in one of the many cages they had for werewolves like you, until the full moon waned. How they’d then gone on to interrogate you about your past; how you turned, when you turned, how many people you’d killed… then they’d welcomed you into their pack. They weren’t about to turn away someone who had such an insight into what hunters look for when scouting for werewolves.

A lot had changed since that night. You’d changed a lot since that night.

You narrowed your eyes at her just as she tucked her dark hair behind her ear and stuck her tongue out at you playfully. “Yeah, yeah… whatever. It’s just that these guys are so…” you threw your hands up in the air with a frustrated groan, not even sure what word could best describe the intruders.

“Don’t stress, Y/N/N. We’ll catch them tomorrow” Connor said, opening his door and making to climb into the driver’s seat.

Huffing, you slid into the car, quickly followed by Gale. “Don’t even get me started on you, dumbass” you muttered, crossing your arms and staring out the window. “You don’t seem to have a grasp on how serious this whole situation is.”

Beside you, you saw him stiffen slightly before turning the ignition. Gale clearly did too, leaning forward from her position in the back to place a hand on her brother’s shoulder. “We get it, Y/N. But we can’t stress over it. We’ll catch them before they kill again, but right now we’ve got the pack to worry about” she soothed, giving you a stern look which you stubbornly ignored.

“We’ve got ages til moonrise” you muttered bitterly. “If we stay on this, then we won’t have to clean up anymore animal carcasses from the local farms, and I won’t have to keep covering up heartless human corpses.”

Neither of them replied as Connor drove down the country lane, away from the site of what could only be described as a massacre. Luckily, this time around, it was sheep, not people.

The culprits were a couple of twenty-something guys who’d taken an interest in Gale and Heather, another member of your pack, while you were having a girls’ night out at the local bar. Naturally, they were shot down, your pack had standards after all, but that had just pissed these wolves off. Over the last three weeks, four people had been killed, five farms had been raided, and one of your pack-mates had been attacked. It was just your luck that your pack had managed to piss off a couple of Purebloods.

You were practically gagging for their blood.

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Old Brick Avenue project will contains several town houses and other properties, renovated or build from the scratch in very elegant, traditional way. 

The second is number 28 - two storey, small house excellent for wealthy couple or elders on their retirement:

No CC used! 

Created with The Sims 4, Go To Work, Get Together

Fool’s Gold | Chapter 2 | Harry Styles PT AU


Story Page Here

Listen To Call Your Girlfriend Christopher
Don’t you tell her how I give you something that you never even knew you missed
Don’t you even try and explain how it’s so different when we kiss
And you just tell her that the only way her heart will mend is when she learns to love again
And it won’t make sense right now but you’re still her friend
And then you let her down easy

Word Count 6.5k

‘Ok then, yes please.’ He said timidly, and Olivia smiled as reassuringly as she could, just a thin line that pulled upwards at the corners, none of the bright toothy smile she’d normally have on around Harry. They both got out of the car and Olivia locked it behind them as they walked silently towards the front door. Olivia half felt like she should reach out and take his hand, he looked like a puppy that had been left on the streets, kicked and starved of compassion. She knew she shouldn’t though so she didn’t, keeping her hands to herself and standing just behind Harry as he knocked on his front door like he needed permission to enter. Ella answered. Her near black hair was piled on her head in a sloppy top knot, glossy and shiny. Her face was free of makeup, but she had a white shirt on with some dark grey joggers that made Olivia think she was halfway through getting ready.

‘Do you want me to come in with you?’ Olivia asked as they pulled up outside the house. Harry was looking out of the car window to the row of identical houses, each with perfectly mowed squares of lawn, each with navy blue PVC doors with thin rectangles of frosted glass. Olivia couldn’t see his face but she’d bet good money on him having his bottom lip pulled in between his thumb and forefinger nervously. He did the same when he was thinking but Olivia could tell the difference.

‘Would you mind?’ He queried as he turned his head to her.

‘Of course not, whatever you want H.’

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From an interview with Leonardo Faccio in 2009

[…] Before getting into the van to get here, the maître from the restaurant [La Pampa] tells me something. One night Messi drove his Audi Q7, the car all Barça players get every season, and stopped by the restaurant to have dinner with a girl. They ordered asado de tira and chorizo. For dessert, they had dulce de leche ice-cream. It was a romantic dinner with candle lights. He introduced the girl as his girlfriend.


Leo starts to get tired of me asking so much about his holidays. He touches his leg, actually it’s his phone inside his pocket, and he glances at the trees around the Ciudad Deportiva. His eyes come and go as if he were chasing a ball in a golf field. Then I mention the news from a local newspaper and suddenly the headline gets him back to Earth. It’s about his girlfriend. It was a Mardi Gras day in Sitges, a little town in the south of Barcelona with caribbean vibes, gay tourists and a fantastic film festival. The sun seemed to shine as if it were spring. In the picture, Messi, who lives a few kilometers away from there, was holding hands with a girl who barely reached over his shoulders. The text below the picture said one name: Antonella Roccuzzo. A tiny girl with a flashy last name. 

What about your girlfriend? —I ask him—. Is it true?

Yeah, we know each other since we were kids —he says as if he were unwrapping a caramel—. She’s the cousin of my best friend.

Messi has friends.

His best friend is Lucas Scaglia. 

“The cousin of my best friend”. It sounds like the title of an Italian movie.

Serie B.

One day Scaglia tells me the story by phone.

At the youth academy of Newell’s Old Boys in Rosario, the boys were kamikazes who played for Messi. Lucas Scaglia was the kamikaze number 5. Messi was a very shy but amazing goal-scorer. When they met, they were just starting elementary school. Sometimes Messi stayed the night at Scaglia’s place.

Messi plays down the melodrama.

But you saw her at his house? —I ask him.

He gets close to me as if he were to tell me how to make more points in the PlayStation. But actually he tells me:

We played together since we were little. And it ended up in a relationship.

The Messis have their origins in Recanati, the hometown of poet Leopardi. In the landscape of his childhood, inside the big immigrant groups in Rosario, the Italians are by far the largest families. The Flea’s Mother is Celia Cuccittini. His cousins are Biancucchis. His best friend is Scaglia. His girlfriend is Roccuzzo. The Scaglias and the Roccuzzos are cousins. Their parents managed a supermarket and shared a two storey house. Messi visited Scaglia at the house. The future girlfriend lived in the first floor.

But did she ever reject you?—I ask.

The pictures that manage to capture Messi’s shaken face after a powerful shot are very tricky. Same with the cameras that follow him every moment he controls the ball with his feet. Unlike other footballers who usually howl after scoring a goal, Messi is the only big star capable of inspiring tenderness with his celebrations, like when he gets to take the ball home, tucked under his arm with the same happy expression as a kid with a stuffed animal won a a local fair. On the pitch, the pibe loses all the shame: he cries, he walks around with his shirt outside his shorts, he sticks his tongue out, he pulls a hundred different faces. He could have pulled a bad face at me for daring to ask if his girl had ever rejected him. But Messi answers with a knowing smile. It’s the face of someone willing to play.

Since we met, we liked each other.

The Flea flashes a one sided smile. 

After that I spent some time without seeing my friend, and without seeing her. But a couple of years later I saw her again and it all started there.


And what are you gonna do? —I ask Messi— Will you get married?

The breeze moves the trees in the summer at Ciudad Deportiva.

We are fine like this —Messi answers without even stopping to think.

He immediately explains:

I haven’t thought about that yet. Right now I don’t feel prepared and I don’t want to. There are still many things on my mind before getting married. 

For the first time Messi talks out loud about the future. His words flow as if they were sliding down a sledge. It’s the tone between shy and cautious he uses in front of the cameras when he talks about the upcoming tournaments that he hopes to win, just that, this time, he’s talking about his girlfriend and an uncertain wedding. His private life is an intriguing story, a well known tale for the sports press. But reality interrupts the love story from being told when a hand appears behind his head. It’s a hand with one, two, three raised fingers. It’s the hand of the press chief of the club letting me know that the time is running out. In minutes Messi will get lost again inside his incubator made of concrete and crystal.


(CPASS) Counting Petals and Stabbing Skin | Chapter One

Summary: Pastel Dan and his punk boyfriend, Phil, have been in a long distance relationship for the past nine months. All that changes when Phil’s parents move across town and Phil ends up in the same school as Dan. How will Dan and Phil cope with finally being able to see each other everyday and be a “proper” couple?
PastelxPunk (Pastel!Dan and Punk!Phil), High School AU, the things involved in high school and life drama, fluff, and some angst.
@legendarygalaxydragon (I’m also the beta of one of her chaptered fics, “Here’s to the Zeros”. I definitely recommend reading that fic and her other fics!)
Words: 2.6K


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lydiia-martins-deactivated20171  asked:

first of all I'm obsessed with hear the wolf it's so good 😻 and if you're taking jonsa prompts still: Jon helping Sansa look for Lady in a storm 😻

You are way, waaaaaay too sweet! Thank you so very much! You have no idea how much I appreciate you saying that <3 

With that said, here’s my attempt at your prompt. Of course it is so much longer than I had expected since I am incapable of writing short drabbles. 

But yeah, I hope you like it!

The storm came at a quarter to ten. It rocked the windows of the two-storey house and lights flickered in nonsensical patterns. Sansa sat alone in the den. She had been in the middle of binge-watching Westworld when everything went dark. For a few seconds, Sansa listened to the storm raging outside. It rained a lot in Scotland – more so than it did anything else – but storms weren’t as common. The last time it rained this badly the roof had collapsed in on the nearby post office. People were without power for days and it had even flooded in parts of the city. Sansa was living down south then but her parents had texted her consistently to make sure she was alright in London. Of course it had rained in London too but nowhere near as badly as the north. 

But Sansa was home this time – and alone too. Her parents were at a party, and with the storm as it was, Sansa didn’t think they’d be home any time soon. It was more than likely they’d just crash at the Mormont’s, which they had been known to do in the past but that had been due to excessive drinking. Robb was away on holiday; Arya and Bran were still at university. Only Rickon was actually in Edinburgh but he was staying the night at a friend’s. That left Sansa and all their dogs.

Something crashed from down in the basement that had her frowning. Sansa, the dogs and Jon. She didn’t know why he was here. He wasn’t even family, but that was hardly a valid reason anymore. From the day Jon’s mother died when he was sixteen, Eddard and Catelyn Stark had all but adopted him into their home. As Robb’s best friend and with no other living relative, Sansa was not so unfeeling as to begrudge Jon for living with them, but it didn’t mean she liked him any more than she had before. He was still stupid, boring, grumpy Jon. Only now, he was stupid, boring, grumpy Jon that lived in her house. 

Quiet click-clacking on the wooden floorboards announced the arrival of the Stark family dogs in quick succession. First came Shaggydog, Nymeria, Grey Wind, Ghost and then Summer. Sansa sat up straighter and waited. There were no further sounds of click-clacking. It was eerily silent once the five dogs had settled down on the carpet. Sansa craned her neck to peer down the darkened corridor. “Lady?” she called but there was no answering woof. Panic began to slide coldly down her throat. “Lady!” she called out louder this time, and quickly stood up. Again, no answer. 

The next ten minutes was spent searching frantically from room to room. When she reached the back of the house, Sansa shivered. A cold gust of wind whipped towards her, chilling her through her thick hoodie and sweat bottoms. Someone had left the backdoor open and that meant… 

Sansa turned quickly and raced down to the basement – the one room she hadn’t looked in yet. She knocked furiously on the door. “Jon! Jon!” She could hear the hysteria in her voice, and while normally Sansa remained as controlled of her emotions as was possible around Jon, occasionally she slipped up. Once, during Christmas holidays when she was fifteen and Robb and him seventeen, and they had come home drunk and broken her favourite pair of heels. She had screamed bloody murder then but this hysteria was different. 

The door pulled back to reveal a tall, broad man in his early twenties with a scruffy beard and shaggy long hair. His face was shadowed by the only source of light from inside his room: an open laptop. “Sansa, what’s wrong?”  

“Lady! She’s… Is she in there?” From the confused look on Jon’s face, her heart plummeted to the soles of her feet. “She’s gone! The backdoor was open and… and it’s raining out, and what if she can’t find her way home? What if she’s hurt!” 

Abruptly, two strong hands gripped her shoulders and Jon’s face was now level to hers. From this proximity, she could see flecks of violet in the irises of his grey eyes, but that was probably the dim lighting playing tricks on her. “Sans, Lady is a smart dog. She’ll be okay.” 

“What if she’s not, Jon?” Sansa hated the whining tone her voice took but the bond she shared with her dog meant more to her than any pair of heels, any stupid party, any dumb boy that had come and gone in her life. 

Jon must’ve realised this when he went back into his room and grabbed a parka from a hook. He glanced back at Sansa then grabbed another parka. “Wear this,” he commanded, and she did so wordlessly, following him back up the stairs. Jon placed a hand on her shoulder in a motion for her to stay and disappeared into a storage cupboard. When he came out, he was holding two torches. Sansa couldn’t help wondering then if Jon had always been so calm and collected in crises or if he had to learn it when his mother died. 

“Sansa…” Jon stopped in front of the door to the back garden that led out into a wide field fenced in by thick trees. She looked up into his eyes and noticed how serious they were. Jon was always serious, that was one of the reasons why she had never liked him, but underneath it, she also saw concern. Was that for her? Or for Lady? She couldn’t imagine it’d be for her but then he had to go and say, “stay close.” 

Under any other circumstances, Sansa might have retorted with something scathing but she only nodded today. It was all she could do to keep her limbs from trembling, half from the cold and half from fear. Within five minutes of being out in the rain, drenched thoroughly through in spite of Jon’s parka, it became mostly from the cold. It settled over her like the unpleasant feeling of walking with wet socks, only everything was wet and Sansa could barely see beyond her fingers. Fat droplets fell from the sky so rapidly no amount of blinking could clear them from her vision. The wind bit into her cheeks like thousands of tiny little bugs nipping into her skin. 

Wordlessly, as if he had sensed her discomfort and impaired vision, Jon’s hand wrapped tightly around hers. She started, confused by the action and even more confused by how nice it felt, but didn’t comment. They walked across the field to the edge of the trees. A moment passed as Jon seemed to contemplate whether to trek through a dark wet forest before he was pulling her forward again. She shuffled closer and gripped his arm with her free hand, hoping to gain something, anything, from his body heat. If he was surprised by the intimacy, Jon didn’t say anything. 

They walked for what felt like hours to Sansa but was probably only thirty minutes. Her voice was raw from calling out for Lady and her trembling had only gotten worse. Fear had quickly given way to outright panic and Sansa tore herself away from Jon in a half-crazed run. She screamed for Lady, the tears falling down her cheeks thankfully hidden by the rain. 

Sansa cupped her hands around her lips, readying to shout again, when she was suddenly slammed into a tree. A half a second later, a tree branch groaned from above and fell where she had just stood. Sansa blinked, gasping, as she looked at Jon. He was breathing hard, his body heaving up and down against hers, as he kept her pressed against the tree. There was a point of throbbing pain at the base of her skull where it had met the tree but she wasn’t as aware of it as she was of Jon. Every ridged line of his body, every twitch of his muscle as he stayed flushed against her. Sansa opened her mouth to say something, maybe to tell him to get off of her, maybe to thank him, but she didn’t get a chance to even think of a response before his lips captured hers roughly. It wasn’t slow or lethargic or unfeeling as she had once thought a kiss from Jon would be; it was desperate and intense, almost painful. What surprised her even more was how Sansa responded to him – just as painfully, as desperately, as passionately as if they would die tomorrow if they didn’t. 

When Jon pulled away, Sansa was embarrassed to hear the moan of displeasure leaving her lips. Her cheeks burned as she noticed the hint of a smile. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Why did you?”

Jon leaned his forehead to hers and sighed. “Because I’m tired of pretending I don’t want to.” Sansa’s ensuing silence spurred him to continue on. “When I saw that branch start to break, for that split second, I thought it’d hit you. I thought of course it’d be my luck that I’d lose you before I even got a chance to have you.” He paused, startled by his own admission, and took a step back. “I… I don’t mean I have you now. You’re not anyone’s to have. I just…” 

Before Jon could finish his sentence, Lady came racing through the trees towards them. She jumped at Sansa and barked happily. Sansa returned her enthusiasm by placing kisses all over the dog’s head. “Don’t you ever do that again, Lady!” she admonished but the dog only whinnied in response. 

This time, Sansa led them back. The lights had turned back on in the neighbourhood and she could see her house clearly through the darkness. Even the rain had started to let up now. 

Once safely inside, Sansa peeled the parka from her body and tossed it in a heap on the ground. Lady bounded down the corridor, trailing mud and shaking droplets of water everywhere. Sansa could deal with the mess in the morning. She was too tired now, and more importantly, she had something else to take care of. 

“Jon?” Sansa turned back to face him. He was running his hands through his hair and shaking his head much in the same way Lady had been. Sansa reached forward and stilled his hands. His eyes widened in surprise and she smiled. “How long have you fancied me?” 

“Longer than appropriate,” Jon answered easily with a soft chuckle. She gave him an inquisitive look, so he elaborated. “You’re Robb’s sister. Nedd and Catelyn’s daughter. I can’t take advantage of you like that.” 

Sansa placed her hands on her hips and fixed him with her darkest scowl. To his credit, Jon flinched. “Take advantage of me? Am I not an adult, Jon? Are my wants not important?”

“Yes, of course, Sansa,” Jon quickly amended. “That’s not what I meant. I… I didn’t think it’d be right. And besides, you never really shown any interest.” He shrugged but there was a smile on his face now. A bit self-deprecating, a bit smug, and all Jon. When had Sansa become so well-versed in his smiles? 

“You never really gave me a chance,” Sansa countered with a similar shrug. “You just avoided me.” In a smaller voice, she admitted. “I hated you because I thought you hated me.” 

Suddenly his warm hands were cupping her face. “Sansa, I could never hate you. Not even when you threw your shoe at my head.” She chuckled and his smile grew. “So do you still hate me?” 

“I don’t know,” Sansa said. “Depends on how much longer it’ll take for you to kiss me again.” 

Jon laughed, a sound that warmed every inch of her rain-soaked body, and kissed her. This time, it was slow but so far from unfeeling. 

It was, in retrospect, this kiss that made Sansa fall in love with him, but she wouldn’t know that for many months to come.  

[UNDONE] pt 1

Originally posted by jinkooks


characters :Jung Hoseok,Jeon Jungkook, Min Yoongi, Kim Namjoon, Kim Taehyung, SeokJin, Park Jimin,Y/N

genre:Angst, mafia 

description: mafia was meant as a business, last thing they needed was you coming in to ruin it all .

masterlist   part 2 background information


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