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False Destinies || Peter Parker x Reader [soulmate au]

((prompt: You don’t have a name tattoo on your wrist, meaning you probably don’t have a soulmate but you didn’t want your friends to tease you about it so you had a tattoo made on your wrist about some name you picked at random because your friend said she wanted to see it soon. And then somehow there’s a person claiming to be your soulmate and they’re kind of cute and sweet so you don’t know what to do.))

prompt given via:

okay, so ||broken dreams|| was slightly depressing, so lets have some fluff with a dash of angst for this story! I hope you readers look forward to it

warnings: none

**dont repost/plagiarize this story**

word count: 2,800+


When you were born, there wasn’t a single name etched on your right wrist.

In the world that you lived in, having a name etched on to the skin of your wrist meant that you were connected to your soulmate. Taking into consideration about the millions of people who shared the same name, people often told you that despite there being many Johns, Teresas, or Larrys in the world, they weren’t quite the same as your John, Teresa, or Larry.

That whenever you met the person destined for you, you would somehow know.

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i could teach you - taeyong scenario - part three

Lee Taeyong - NCT

words - 3.8k

genre - angst, heartbreaker!au

soundtrack - hey violet, break my heart

parts - 1 / 2 / / 4/ 5 (still ongoing)

Originally posted by xehunted

The buzz that emitted from your pocket drawing your attention away from him. If it was Minyoung, you were not going to answer. After you called her this morning, the memory of her screaming voice was still vividly etched in your mind. That conversation was pure torture – thank god you didn’t tell her about Taeyong or you wouldn’t be breathing right now.

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Imagine waking up one day in a world, like ours, but with a parallel society alongside it that outnumbers it, say, ten to one. They dress in strange robes that seem shapeless and have unusual patterns on them you’ve never seen before; they talk of kukesh and sava instead of “right” and “wrong,” and the virtue of maor, and they try to translate these words into your language, but when you try to compare them to things you care about–love, family, individualism, freedom, happiness–they make a face and shake their heads.

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Sifo was gone. The marked unease that always haunted his sleep when they were apart had greeted Jard in the morning, along with an empty and cold half of his bed. That, and a brief note on a piece of flimsi on his nightstand—Sifo’s personal touch, his delicately curved script inscribed in a deep blue ink. It was a gentle farewell, full of promise. 

Only, of course, Dooku knew better than to trust in that promise. The future was already out of Sifo’s control. 

The grief that swamped him was stifling. For a full ten he’d been staring at that piece of flimsiplast, carrying it around in the breast pocket of his inner tunic, only to learn that his Padawan had been seriously injured on Naboo. Jard had allowed himself few material reminders of his attachments—Qui-Gon’s Padawan braid, long and silken, curled in a box in his study; an anniversary Choosing gift from Komari. Sifo’s note. 

How fitting that every token he’d kept became sooner a memento for the remembrance of the dead, or very nearly so. Komari had vanished. When the Healers told them Qui-Gon had been injured, they’d taken care not to say how seriously, but Dooku was no fool. He knew the threat his former Padawan had faced, and exactly how dire the situation must have been. Now Sifo was going to his own end. 

How fitting that every token he’d kept became sooner a memento for the remembrance of the dead

[credits due to @poplitealqueen for the name ‘Jard’, I believe]

The second queen

Based on “Imagine telling Thranduil that you know you’ll never replace his first wife and that you’re fine with that. You will love him with all you have and that’s enough for you.” from Imaginexhobbit

Requested by Anonymous


Looking back, in the years to come, you would tell the story that your life had truly begun at the the spring festival of Nost-na-Lothion, the Birth of Flowers. The evening had seemed ripe with promise as you’d painstakingly arranged your hair and dressed in your rich, leaf-green gown, and twirled playfully before your father, asking, “how do I look, Ada?”

“Beautiful, iellig,” he’d replied with a smile. “You will shine as the starlight for everyone to see.”

As one of King Thranduil’s advisors, your father was a distinguished guest at the feast, and introduced you to what seemed like an endless stream of his acquaintances. When he was drawn by another of the King’s councillors into a conversation about trade with the men of Laketown, you took the opportunity to wander to the fringes of the crowd, watching the dancers in the center of the grand chamber. You had momentarily glanced down, idly smoothing your skirts and adjusting the bracelets on your wrists, when a pair of feet stopped before you, and you looked up, surprised, into the face of the King. 

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OC x Jungkook
Three Word Prompt: Tattoo, Sweet, Love
Soundtrack (x) & (x)
12/ ? of my drabble game
(a/n) I’m sorry I feel so bad for writing this first, but this just hit me and I could not stop LOL. adds tattoo shop kookie to my list of muses… yass. Also this is not a drabble seeing as its a thousand words but enjoy loves ^3^ ily 

Originally posted by jeonggukaf

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What She Wished For

A/N: I have had some wonderful followers recently celebrating birthdays, but was actually asked for a birthday fic from one of them today. Their suggestion was that Emma have a birthday where she now has people in her life to celebrate with, and just that concept sparked this fic. I’m sure a thousand of these have been written before, but this is my take, and I hope you all enjoy it! Thanks for reading!

Also available on FF Here

“Can I get you anything else, Emma?” Granny asked, slipping the same order Emma always asked for up on the metal hanger, where it would remain until her grilled cheese, onion rings, and side salad were ready. Emma was fully ready to turn her down, until she noticed in the case where pie usually resided that there were cupcakes today.

“Are those vanilla?” Emma asked, knowing that the last time she’d had a cupcake like that she’d been a different person. It was the night of her birthday all those years ago, when Henry found her in Boston. Granny looked a little stricken at Emma’s question.

“They are, but they’re actually already spoken for. But the cake for your birthday is in the back fridge, and it’ll be perfect at the party. ” Emma shook her head, trying to dispel the yearning for a cupcake and the memory of that lonely night away as she did so. This year she’d have people she loved beside her, as she had for the past few years, and that truth eased the pain of her past away.

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minty-minho  asked:

bae. adansey headcanons?


  • ok so gansey was instantly fascinated with adam from the first day he walked into his math class because of his hardworking nature and his modesty (also his elegant features because. come on. a sEPIA PHOTOGRAPH WHAT KINDA GAY GARBAGE) and he wanted to talk to him but he was hesitant because what would someone so REAL want with someone like him (while Adam was thinking Gansey’d think he was trash ha kill me) so when Adam finally did talk to him Gansey just !!!!!!!! fREAKED OUT and Ronan had to tell Gansey to ‘shut up about Parrish, already’ for like 2 weeks. Noah would just moan and put pillows over his ears 
  • Gansey would always sit around while Adam worked on the Pig or a car from Boyd’s or homework, pretending to be all absorbed in his book but just watching the little furrow of concentration between Adam’s brows or the little smile on his face when he solved the problem. it’s when he starts writing little poems about him with all these sappy mythology/astronomy references in his journal that he realizes he has it bAD 
  • Adam secretly loves the Pig. More so than any of the cars he’s ever worked on/seen, it has character to it and the fact that Gansey drives it means so much to him, like no matter how many times it breaks down Gansey will never give up on it, just like he could smash a thousand billion figurines and Gansey would always be there to support him and believe in him
  • Adam knows that Gansey is usually up with the telescope on clear nights and he normally hates going into Monmouth at night because it feels like defeat but one night when he’s really stressed about the trial and Cabeswater he comes in and Gansey just smiles and pats the spot next to him like they do this every night, and Adam drinks whatever passes for tea at Monmouth (”It’s a herbal blend, Adam, Helen got it for me,” “Gans I’m about 90 percent sure this is hot cherry Gatorade”) and Gansey shows him the Moon and Saturn’s rings and Venus and all the stars and lies awake after trying to burn Adam’s look of wonder into his brain. they start doing that more often afterwards
  • blUE NOAH AND HELEN ALL LOWKEY SHIP IT like one day Noah is nowhere to be found but Gansey wakes up with ‘I know who you like’ written on a Coca-Cola bottle next to his bed. Helen purposefully does a sharp turn on the helicopter so that Adam will bump into Gansey (and maybe hold his hand for comfort). Blue keeps dropping jokes about how ‘you guys should just kiss already’ a la Dream Thieves. Honestly who can blame her for wanting to see that happen
  • Richard Campbell Gansey III thinks he’s so clever and subtle but honestly he flirts like a twelve year old boy. Like he just keeps pretending he needs help with homework and going over to St. Agnes with candy and stuff that Helen baked and just. Watches him work. One time he brought over a mint plant and sort of casually chewed on the leaves as seductively as possible. He walked into a telephone pole when Adam showed up one day in one of his shirts. He’s just a total hot mess
  • Adam figures it out and just teases him as mercilessly as possible, casually walking around shirtless and working on the Pig in muscle tanks and making really subtle innuendoes and Gansey just goes. Why.mp3
  • When they fight (and they inevitably do fight) Gansey will usually come over with an apology Starbucks (Adam has a weakness for hot cocoa from there) bc let’s face it it’s probably Gansey’s fault and they’ll lay in bed together listening to music (I’m thinking Gansey’s got lots of Vampire Weekend/Alt-J, but Adam runs a bit more towards Arctic Monkeys/Lana Del Rey so they listen to that too) 
  • Gansey knows Adam needs to pay his own way with the jobs but he lowkey makes sure all of Adam’s employers know if he’s treated badly at work he’ll know and certain influential people (see: Helen) will make SURE they’re out of a job 
  • After Gansey dies, Adam gets the word ‘excelsior’ tattooed subtly in beautiful, curving script on his shoulder. Gansey leaves him all his books and the Pig, which he drives wherever he goes, making sure to take care of it like Gansey took care of him

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter. All rights to JK Rowling and her publishers, no copyright infringement intended etc. etc…

“Honey, I’m home!” James called as he shut the front door behind him, pockets of cool autumn air caught between his layers of clothing, smelling of Firewhiskey and Sirius’ cigarette smoke.

He waited for a response, grinning, but his smile dropped quickly when he heard a sniffle from the lounge.

“Lil?” James threw his cloak onto the banister and moved into the lounge.

Lily was sitting on the sofa, a letter resting on her knees. She glanced up when her husband entered the room, and he could tell she’d been crying.

“Hi,” she said with a weak smile. “How were the boys?”

“What’s wrong?” James asked, entirely ignoring her question. He dropped onto the sofa beside her. “Who’s that from?”

Lily’s attempted smile disappeared. “My mum.”

“Is she all right?” James asked urgently. “Is she…”

“She’s the same,” Lily interrupted, not looking at him, just fingering the letter’s curving script. “It’s not Mum. It’s Petunia.”

James worked to keep his expression neutral. “Yeah? She all right?”

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Eighteen Years - Part 1 - Tom Hiddleston/OFC Fanfiction

Okay, so this is my first foray back into writing post baby, and i’m going to say it now, I’m Sorry that this isn’t that great. I had this great idea for a oneshot, that turned into a two parter, and now i think its going to end up a mini-multi chapter thing.

Its set partly 2 years in the future, and also in the past. The future bit especially will come clearer and the reasons why i did that will be more understandable in future parts. 

This is a Actor!Tom and Baby!Hiddles combo story.

Not much smut in Part 1, but there will be in future parts. Bear with me here.

Eighteen Years

Part 1

Summer 2017.

Kerry stood quietly and admired her students work in the Ancient Greece exhibit of the Museum, sipping her drink as the rest of the guests milled around and chatted. Scholars from her university and from around the country had come tonight wanting to see the finds they’d discovered on that summer’s dig, and she recognised many of the faces as she glanced around the room.

She walked the length of the room, allowing the students to take the limelight before stopping at the final exhibit and marvelling how they had managed to reassemble the ceramic vase from the hundreds of pieces that had been recovered. She was one of the few people in the room that could read (and speak) ancient Greek fluently, and as she tilted her head she made out the ancient script that curved around the piece. She hadn’t noticed that she had company, so when a voice pierced the quiet it made her jump;

“Well, I guess the actual translation isn’t going to be in the museum guide book…”

Kerry turned towards the soft male voice that had interrupted her thoughts and very quietly sucked in a sharp intake of breath when she saw the face that went with the voice. She quickly regained her composure but turned back to the exhibit;

“There’s not many people here that can read ancient Greek” she said with a smirk, “But you’re right, the ‘buttsex oil urn’ isn’t really something the finest museum in Oxford would want in their literature”.

It was her companions turn to sharply inhale, suppressing a laugh as he coughed on his champagne. Remaining transfixed at the exhibit, Kerry’s thoughts were not on the artifacts. She’d recognised him the moment he’d spoken to her, his voice was so distinctive, but she was still processing that information in her mind as he regained his composure.

“I’m Tom by the way..”

She turned to face him; “Kerry… and I know who you are” she said with a faint smile.

“Oh… a fan?” he sounded slightly disappointed.

“Not exactly”

Her reply made his eyes spring up to her face, and she watched as his expression changed;

“Have we… have we met before?” he looked slightly confused.

“You could say that, and it was a long time ago…” she trailed off smiling, watching as recognition darted across his face, suddenly taking him back many years ago, and back to a different university.

Autumn 1999

Kerry sat with her friends on the minibus as it made its way around the roads of Cambridge, finally arriving at the University sports centre just minutes before they were due to play their first match in the weekends tournament. She was the star player on the Oxford Girls Hockey team, and even though she was only in her 2nd year, she had made a name for herself as the fastest and most ruthless player they’d ever had. She was popular with the others on the team, never failing to make it to a match or practice, even with her extensive studies filling the rest of her time.

They piled out of the bus as it came to a screeching halt at the sports ground, their tutor who was driving almost hitting a few straggling spectators that were still milling around, one tall blonde boy in particular catching Kerry’s eye. The angry look on his face changing as he spotted her, and he gave her an intense stare, his eyes raking up and down her body and admiring her short uniform. Smiling back at him she winked as she grabbed her hockey stick and ran onto the pitch with the rest of the team. One last look over her shoulder and she spotted him licking his lips as he grinned back, his light blue/grey eyes seemingly staring deep into her soul. Maybe these Cambridge boys weren’t so bad after all she thought, time for some inter-university bonding after the match, especially considering the teams would be staying in halls that night, no doubt there would be a party or two they’d end up at. If there was something the Oxford Girls knew how to do, was party until they were the last ones standing.

Hours later they were doing just that. Kerry was dancing on one of the pool tables with some of her fellow team. There were teams from all over the country, with two of the St Andrews Uni girls dancing on the table with her. Deciding it was time for another drink she jumped down, her strong legs making the 4ft drop look easy, and made her way to the table the drinks were stacked on. She wasn’t one for getting that drunk so grabbed a coke and made her way to the door, looking to get some air and escape the smokey room, wishing people wouldn’t light up inside the building.

Grabbing a seat on a low wall in the courtyard, Kerry took a few deep breaths of the sweet night air and leant back, stretching her now aching muscles as a cool breeze caressed her skin. The music of the party seemed far away, and as she closed her eyes she could hear the sounds of the late summer’s night with crickets chirping in the bushes and a nightingale singing.

“Hi” Her solitude was shattered, and as she opened her eyes she was greeted with the sight of a head of blonde curls and a smile that could light the night sky. It was her spectator from earlier. “May I join you?” he quietly enquired, a slight blush burning on his cheeks.

“Of course” and she shuffled along the wall a little, making room for her new companion to take a seat next to her.

“It’s just so noisy in there… I’m Tom by the way”


“Nice to meet you Kerry. Hey, congrats on the win today, you were awesome out there!”

She smiled at the compliment. They’d thoroughly thrashed the home side, mainly due to her hard work on the pitch.

“Thanks! It was a fun game, but I’m aching a bit now to be honest!” she smiled at him as she sipped her coke; “So Tom, you a first year here then?” his nerves a slight giveaway.

“Umm yeah” he blushed a little more, fiddling with the label on his drink; “So… ummm… you’re a second year right? What are you studying?”

“Yeah I’m a second year, they don’t allow first years on the team. I’m taking Archaeology, I spent the summer in Athens on a dig, it was so cool!” she stretched her legs out and flexed her muscles as she spoke; “But the tan is fading a bit now” pulling her sleeve up and showing the tanlines on her arms, smiling as she watched Tom’s gaze fall upon her. She was growing to quite like her quiet companion, especially with his head of blonde curls and piercing blue eyes, he seemed halfway between a cherub and an Adonis, as if in transition.

“What about you, what are you taking?”

He shifted as he sat, turning towards her; “Classics. Shakespeare, Keats, Wordsworth. There’s so much to learn, but its brilliant!” he was really animated as he spoke, waving his hands around excitedly; “I’ve even got to learn Greek as one of the companies I’m hoping to work with next summer are hoping to put on a version of Cymbeline in the future. If I can speak Greek then I’m in with a head start over the others and hopefully get a good part!”

“Isn’t that the one that is in Ancient Greek?”

Tom paled a little; “There’s a difference?”

“Yeah, it’s like the difference between modern English and Medieval English. We have to learn the basics as a lot of the inscriptions are in ancient Greek on our dig site.”


“Hey, if you can grasp Shakespeare and his way of talking, then you can get Ancient Greek, the hardest part is…..OWW!” Kerry suddenly grasped at her calf, cramp had set in after the days exertions.

“Oh my god, are you ok?” Tom looked worried as his new companion struggled in pain next to him.

“Cramp…. owww…. in my right calf…” she leant back and tried to breathe through the pain as the muscle held in spasm.

Tom jumped down from the wall and knelt in front of her; “Here let me” and with that lightly took hold of her leg, resting her foot on his thigh. She watched as he gently started to rub, she marvelled for the first time at how big his hands were as the smoothed over her skin; “Any better?”

She took a couple of deep breaths; “Not much to be honest. I think I need to walk it off…”

He stood up and helped her to her feet, holding onto her waist as she rested one arm on his shoulder; “Thanks Tom… sometimes it just hits if I haven’t had enough fluids enough after a match”

He grabbed her coke and handed it to her, watching as she balanced on her good leg and downed the contents, and took the empty bottle back once she’d finished.

“Come on, let’s try and get that cramp gone…. here, lean on me” he looked down at her with a warm smile.

Kerry took a couple of steps and winced at the pain as it shot up her leg; “So, are you always this chivalrous?”

He chuckled but didn’t answer, keeping a firm hold on her waist as she leant on him for support. They by now had left the courtyard and were making their way around the old building, taking care on the flagstone path, well worn from centuries of students making their way around the campus. As they turned the corner a keen breeze picked up, swirling around as they made their way along. There was the smell of ozone in the air, and soon they felt the first few cold raindrops fall onto their skin.

“We’d better hurry up” Tom said as he started to urge Kerry along, trying to go a faster.

“I… I can’t… it still hurts too much” she said, wincing with pain as her muscle still held fast.

The rain started to fall, a spattering of drops, quickly soaking through their clothing, making the thin fabric cling to their bodies. The wind started to pick up, and soon there was a rumble of thunder nearby, lightning streaking across the darkened night sky.

“Come on… here…let me help” Tom stopped and bent down, scooping Kerry off her feet and into his arms. For someone that looked so skinny he was certainly strong she thought. He quickly made his way across the quadrangle and as they sheltered in an alcove of the old building, he lowered her to her feet, keeping his hands on her waist as he steadied her.

“Are you ok?” He looked concerned, but as he looked down at her he saw a dark look in her eyes, and watched as her gaze raked down his body; “Kerry…?”

“You’re… you’re really strong….” she ran one hand down his chest, tracing the wet fabric of his shirt against his body. Looking up at him a shiver ran down her spine as she looked into his eyes.

“You’re cold, and wet…” he gazed at her with an expression of hunger darting across his features.

“Uh-huh” he had no idea how wet, she thought to herself.

Tentatively she pulled her body closer to his, feeling the warmth from his skin through their soaked clothing, meeting his gaze again she traced her hands up his chest and around his neck, pulling him closer and as he bowed his head towards hers. When their lips finally met that first soft touch sent sparks between them.

He wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her body to his until they were flush, the softness of hers melding against his taught limbs and torso. As their lips parted and their kiss deepened, his hands strayed further south, grasping at her buttocks through the short skirt of her soaked hockey uniform, his nimble fingers kneading the soft flesh.

She was standing on her tiptoes, her leg cramp now gone and long since forgotten, endorphins coursing through her body eliminating any pain she’d been feeling.  Lifting her a little he stepped forwards and pressed her against the cold stone wall, bending his knees as he pressed his growing erection against her core through the confines of his jeans. Pulling away from the kiss, he traced his lips along her jawline and to her neck, nibbling and sucking as he went, the sound of her hot breath and the touch of her fingers gripping onto his shoulders igniting his passion further. He slid one hand around her hip, his fingers dipping beneath the fabric of her top, delicately stroking the skin on her stomach. He felt rather than heard the barely audible groan as he did so, feeling her press her hips against his, emboldening him on to seek further access, sliding his cold fingers over the hot skin of her torso until he reached the hem of her bra. Tracing his fingertips along the underside of the soft fleshy globe before reaching further and taking it into the palm of his hand, squeezing and kneading, feeling her nipple harden beneath his touch. All the while his lips had been working their magic on her neck, nibbling and sucking along one side before switching his attention to the other.

The sound of a door slamming shut nearby broke their train of thought, pulling reluctantly apart, breathless and wanting they looked into each other’s eyes, chests heaving from their passion.

Tom was first to speak; “My room, it’s not far from here…” staring intently at Kerry.

She took a deep breath and looked out at the pouring rain. Taking his free hand in hers, she looked up at him and a wicked smile spread across her face;

“Lead the way”.

Taking a deep breath he grinned down at her, they stood in the alcove for a minute longer before breaking into a sprint across the lawns and onto his halls where their night would continue.

anonymous asked:

Narry pls “we have a lot of mutual friends so we see each other more than two broken up people usually do and i know we’re not really close anymore but you’re wearing that stupid (adorable) hat you always wore when you were upset so tell me what’s wrong because it’s literally killing me to see you look so sad” AU

take any grand notion

(this kinda spiraled into almost 5k of niall and harry being each other’s date to their ex’s wedding, but i hope u like it!)

Niall runs into Liam’s ex at his favorite coffee shop off Corporation Street at Second Cup Coffee where he’s gone, ironically, for his third cup of coffee for the day. Too much coffee always gives him a right case of the shits but he’s really trying to hold off on that today; he needs to get those reports done for his supervisor before he gets named Manchester’s Worst Curator. Louis deserves that title way before Niall does. 

Liam’s ex is wearing that green and gold Packers beanie, otherwise Niall wouldn’t have recognized him. He did one semester abroad to Los Angeles when they were in uni and he thinks he’s some sort of expatriate, or something. Niall rolls his eyes and places his order to the barista, and then he goes to tap Liam’s ex on the shoulder. He’s got one of those adjectival names, like Tall or Skinny. Something like that. 

The guy jumps in his seat and somehow his face hasn’t even managed to look surprised; he still looks like a miserable sod, and between wanting to laugh and pat his cheek, Niall feels his brow crease. Suddenly he remembers Liam and his boyfriend’s soft face, and the way he’d always pull the edge of his beanie lower with the same sad look, like he didn’t want to be miserable but he wasn’t sure how to make himself not. 

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Jack Gilinsky

The streetlights flicker dimly, casting an eerie glow onto the stark asphalt. The air outside is calm and undisturbed. If someone were to walk down the street the only sound would be the patter of their feet on the pavement. A somber sentiment radiates throughout the landscape. It’s quite amazing how deceiving the external picture can be.In the basement of one of the houses on the street, a much different vibe lingers in the air.

The smoke is so thick it gives a slight gray hue to everything in his field of vision. The base of the music pulsates straight through his chest, vibrating against his rib cage. He brings a blunt to his lips, inhaling like he has done a thousand times before. The smoke fills his lungs quickly before he exhales in a steady stream.

“That’s weak!” Sam laughs loudly, punching him in the arm.
“Yeah? What do you got then?” Jack fires back.
“Watch this,” Sam says, cockiness dripping off his words.

Sam takes the blunt from Jack’s grasp and puts it between his lips in one swift movement. He hollows out his cheeks and sucks in sharply. He then lets out three short puffs, producing three rings of smoke. Sam sits back and admires his work. A triumphant grin curves his mouth.

“Wow you’re so cool. Teach me your ways,” Jack says sarcastically, rolling his eyes.
“You’re both lame if you ask me,” Jack Johnson interjects. 
“Good thing we didn’t ask you,” Sam replies, blowing smoke in Johnson’s face.
“Don’t be a dick,” Johnson fans the smoke cloud surrounding him.
“You are what you eat,” Jack smirks.
“Nasty. Fuck off, man,” Sam grimaces.
“You started this,dipshit,” Johnson reminds him. 
Sam rolls his eyes and vacates his spot on the couch, a trail of smoke following close behind. His tall figure soon disappears up the stairs. 

The graduation party is as alive as ever. Masses of intoxicated teenagers sway to the music leaking out of the speakers. They’ll undoubtedly suffer from massive hangovers in the morning, but they don’t care because they’re high off the mentality that they’re graduates who can do whatever the fuck they want. 

Apart from the sea of dancing bodies that seems to move as one entity, a girl sits at the bar area. She slides a slender glass half filled with an amber liquid around with her finger tips. Her gaze looks distracted. Jack recognizes her as the girl who sat in front of him in psychology. She transferred to West Side halfway through the year. The reason for her abrupt appearance was never explained. In fact, there is little that anyone knows about her for sure. The few things about her that are indisputably clear are, one, she is top of the class, and two, she can be found at parties drinking and smoking with West Side’s best. 
The good-girl-bad-girl persona that is her sole characterization has proven to intrigue everyone.

Jack finds himself approaching her figure. Her lips are pursed in concentration, giving her the appearance of being deep in thought. Her hair is pushed off her shoulders so it flows down her back in soft waves that resemble curtains being stirred by a soft breeze. Everything about her is intoxicatingly beautiful. She delicately brings the glass to her lips and takes a sip. The burning sensation in her throat makes her smile. Jack slides onto the stool next to her, twirling the blunt with his fingers.

“You really are the stoner that everyone says you are,” she muses, not turning to look at him.
“You really are as elusive as everyone says you are,” Jack counters.
“Now where’s the fun in everyone pigeon holing you into a single archetype,” she turns her piercing eyes to look directly at him. 
The eye contact sends shivers throughout his entire body.
“I didn’t know you were friends with Mack. Or talked to him or whatever.”
“You say that like that you have reason to know anything about me at all.”
Jack puts his hands up as if to say ‘fair enough’.
“What are you doing at a party sitting by yourself?” he inquires out of genuine curiosity. 
“Thinking,” she states.
“How can you think over all the noise?” he asks incredulously. 
“How can you think when it’s quiet? When there’s no noise all your thoughts scream for attention all at once, making it near impossible to distinguish one from another. But when it’s loud I find that the most important thoughts find a way to be heard above all the noise while the trivial ones get lost in the sound,” she explains.

Jack stares at her with thoughtful eyes, letting her words sink in. He can almost feel what she said seeping into his skin and running through his veins, lighting him up in the most curious way. It’s nonsense, and yet he cannot find a flaw in her reasoning. The way she thinks is not the way in which most are accustomed to. 

“I’ve never looked at it that way before,” he finally responds.
“Most people don’t,” she shrugs indifferently. 
“But you do,” he keeps his eyes trained on hers.
A small smile plays at her lips as she brings the glass to her lips, arching an eyebrow.
“It’s getting hard to breathe with all the smoke. I’m going outside,” she hops off the stool, “You can join me if you’d like.”
Jack nods, abandoning his stool to follow her fleeting figure.

They lay on their backs in the grass. A blunt exchanges between two hands, one small and delicate, the other large and rough. They pass it back and forth for awhile, few words being spoken. The cool night breeze chases the excess smoke out of their lungs only for them to pollute themselves as quickly as they had been cleansed. 

“And here I thought alcohol was your poison of choice,” Jack teases lightly.
“I like all kinds of poison. I don’t limit myself to one type of destruction,” she responds. 

She shifts to place her hands behind her head, the hem of her tank top rising to expose the skin of her lower abdomen. Jack notices letters in black script curving and dancing across the top of her right hip bone. The ink spells out ‘Vivire Est Vincere’. 

“What’s it mean?” Jack whispers quietly, reaching his fingers out to trace the words.
She shivers slightly at the feeling of his skin on hers.
“To live is to conquer,” she answers, watching his fingers brush over the tattoo. 
“Why’d you get it?” he wonders aloud.
“It’s a reminder for the way I want to live my life. Too many people are infatuated with the idea of becoming extraordinary. They want to be something grand so they’ll be remembered on a large scale. That’s not a realistic goal. You can’t gage your life on big accomplishments. Surviving every day , simply being alive, is an accomplishment, and that should be enough. But for some people it’s not. I don’t want to be one of those people." 
"To live is to conquer,” Jack repeats in understanding. 
“The desire to be significant is insatiable, and it’ll destroy you if you let it,” she mutters bitterly.
“What are you getting at?”
“Nothing,” she relaxes.

Jack retracts his hand and sits up to look around. They walked pretty far out into the yard. No one else is around and he just can see the lights from the house. The moon casts shadows over everything in its path. The blades of grass appear to have knife like points on their ends, and the distance in front of them is nothing but black and slightly lighter shades of black. Something about his surroundings makes him feel like his mind is disconnected from his body. Or maybe that’s just the weed talking.

“Does that not freak you out?” Jack nods to the void space that seems to engulf them.
“To what are you referring?” she asks, sitting upright.
“The darkness. The vast nothingness.”
She shakes her head no.
“I’ve never understood why people are so afraid of the dark. It’s the daytime that they should really be afraid of. You can hide in the dark, but once the sun comes up all your scars and secrets reflect off your skin like luminescent tattoos. If you ask me, exposure is worse than the unknown,” she says nonchalantly. 

He ogles at her for what feels like the millionth time tonight. She has all the words in the world and he suddenly has none. Something about her sucked all the breath from his lungs, all the thoughts from his head. Somehow she had managed to become even more mysterious than she was as a stranger. Every part of him craves to know more. 

The effects of the drug makes everything seem cloudy. He wants to ask her more questions. He wants to break down who she is. He wants to know what everyone else wonders about but never bothers to ask, but he can’t think straight enough to come up with a cohesive string of words. In this moment all he can think about  is the intense voracity to know what her lips taste like.

Without a second thought, he slides his hand to cup her cheek and presses his lips to hers. She jerks in surprise but doesn’t push him away. Had she been sober she might have had the common sense to recoil, but instead she does the opposite. She fists her hands in his light T-shirt to pull him closer. His lips move against hers languidly in a way that she will never be able to un feel. His mouth on hers makes her feel a little less hollow. She knows this is selfish, but she can’t stop. 

“This is a bad idea,” She breathes against his lips.
“I don’t care,” he continues to kiss her.
“You should,” she runs her hand through his dark hair.
“We’re hidden in the dark,” his lips find a sweet spot on her neck.
“The sun will come up eventually.”
“But for now it’s just you, me, and the void,” he references the desolate environment.
She nudges his chin to bring his lips back to hers.
“You, me, and the void.”

Part 2


Originally posted by fuckyourhipsterurl

(fluff factory / word count: 1278)

(I wanted to write this because it was on my mind all day as I was writing World History notes so let’s do it)

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anonymous asked:

Yo, will you write a fic for me? The Delancey brothers and Crutchie find out they are brothers.

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