god this was better in my head but i'm so tired of this

comprehensive analysis of sam & cap meeting for the first time
  • ‘oh hey look how fast i can run look how fast and cool i am look at me’
  • cap is wearing a t shirt 2 sizes 2 small that may as well be soaking wet come the fuck on cap put on some fucking clothes
  • i can’t hear anything steve is saying over his flexing
  • ‘what unit u with? where u work? what’s ur name? u got a boyfriend? where yo boyfriend at?’
  • flimsy excuse to hold hands (’oh help me up from this tree i’m so tired i can’t possibly get up by myself’)
  • sam immediately all ‘must be weird coming home after the whole defrosting thing’ like wow personal much? buy a guy a drink first
  • steve is like ‘uh ya it’s weird that’s personal buy a guy a drink first’ and goes to leave
  • sam: -anguished expression- oh god i fucked it up
  • sam:

damn it sam save it! save it! don’t let him go! -says the first thing that pops into his head-

  • steve like

‘what the fuck buy a guy several drinks first?’

  • sam: your bed, it’s too soft. when I was over there I’d sleep on the ground, use rocks for pillows, like a caveman.

steve:

  • what
  • sam: -explains what the fuck he’s talking about, beds are too soft, etc etc etc’
  • steve: ohhhh the marshmallow bed thing? ya i get that. fucking soft beds right haha -is apparently into the whole caveman thing-
  • sam: nice, saved it -high fives self-
  • steve: -demonstrates how Knowledgeable he is and how much Perspective he has and how Funny he can be’ we use to boil everything!!!!
  • steve literally sounds like one of those beauty queens having a question sprung on her that she didn’t expect
  • ‘Miss New York how does the world of today compare to the days of world war 2??? 30 seconds on the clock’
  • ‘no polio is good’
  • ….’no polio is good’….
  • ‘we used to boil everything!!!’
  • somehow sam is still cool with this. it’s probably bc steve has mouth-watering melon pecs
  • Sam Makes His Move

you can tell this is his Move. he tells this to all the ladies. there’s no way you can get someone listening to marvin gaye and not get laid instantaneously

  • steve doesn’t know what the fuck sam is talking about but this is a great excuse to show off his arms by pulling out his little notebook

are you looking at those arms sam?? bc i am

  • btw
  • this

this is the face of a man who is DTF

  • ‘Miss New York, what are the most significant historical events and cultural changes that have occurred since world war two?? 30 seconds on the clock’
  • ‘uhh…. I Love Lucy. Moon Landing. Berlin wall… up and down. Steve Jobs…. apple….???? Disco. Definitely. Thai food. Star Wars and Trek. Nirvana… I’m pretty sure that’s a band. Rocky and Rocky 2. And whatever this guy just told me. idk I’ll look it up on the Google later’
  • ‘all right Sam, duty calls. Thanks for the run…… if that’s what you want to call running.’
  • ‘Oh, that’s how it is??’
  • ‘Ohhh that’s how it is.’
  • this is better flirting than i have ever implemented in my nearly ten long years after hitting puberty
  • ‘Hey anytime you want to stop by my place of employment that I told you explicitly within minutes of meeting you but now I’m bringing up again to make sure you remember where I work and where to find me again, make out with me me look awesome in front of the girl at the front desk, just let me know’
  • Steve: hella B)
  • nat: -rolls up-
  • nat:
Owner

A/N: Hello everyone! It’s been a hot minute. Hopefully this new series makes up for everything J I haven’t written hybrid!au stuff before, but I find it really hot so why the fuck not right?

There will be smut in later chapters!

If you’re not into that kind of stuff, then I wouldn’t read this story.

Based sorta on this J-Drama called Kimi Wa Petto, if you wanna check it out its super cute.

Keep reading

Aftermath

Title: Aftermath
Characters: Hanji Zoe x Levi
Genre: Humor / Angst
Rating: T

@levihanweek​ Day 2: Nightmare

Levi’s Nightmare: Having a heart-to-heart with Pastor Nick.


“Are you worried about your wife?”

The question shocked him out of his musings.

Levi looked up, “My what?”

But the pastor was already speaking, “You’re obviously beside yourself with stress – and it’s understandable. Not knowing if your wife has survived-”

Levi cut him off, “My what?”

The pastor hesitated, apparently realizing he’d made some mistake, but misunderstanding precisely what it was. “Your…wife? The woman we traveled with before? She’s ah – forceful. You two uh – have the same, er – strident personality. When we first met, she dangled me off the wall.”

Keep reading

i just wanted you to tell me.
when things were getting hard again,
when all you felt was a whirlwind in your head,
when you went out with girls who weren’t me.

i wanted you to describe the people you fell in love with:
why you loved them, how they treated you,
if you still fight with yourself about
if you are worth anything or not because
they made you question your self-worth every day.
i wanted you to tell me about the things they did right,
about why they’re still in and out of your life,
about how you ran into them in the supermarket
the other day and you still felt something
when you hugged them goodbye.

i wanted you to tell me
about all of the the mistakes you made
and why you made them.
i wanted you to introduce me
to all of the monsters under your bed.
i wanted to hear about the happiest you’ve ever been
even if it wasn’t with me.
i wanted to hear about your boss and your job
and the new car you were thinking of buying.
i wanted to see the two apartments you were looking at
and try to decide with you which is better.

i wanted to know about the times
you’ve thought about driving your car off a cliff
and the little moments that made you re-think it.
i wanted to be there to celebrate your triumphs
and admire your strength - i wanted to know everything
about you so i could love you anyway.

but i guess with you, i found out not everyone is like me.
not everyone blurts out their whole life story
every time they are given the chance.
and i just wanted you to tell me
who made you feel like you couldn’t open up,
who hurt you so bad that you couldn’t let me in,
somebody who honest to god,
would have loved you no matter what.

but i ask you how you are and you say “not bad”
and then you ask about me
and you wake up in another girl’s bed
because you don’t know how to open up
and you let me find out months later
because you don’t know how to open up
and you let me hear stories about you from other people
because you don’t know how to open up

and it’s just sad, how all i wanted was to help
but you’ve never done anything but run from my love
and i get it
i guess
some people are just more reserved
and some people are afraid
and some people don’t take people up on offers to talk about it
even if the other person insists
and you can’t force people to let themselves fall in love with you.
you can’t force them to open up.

but aren’t there things that make you want to scream?
aren’t there things that make you want to cry?
aren’t there things you are so passionate about that
if you don’t let them out, you feel like you’re drowning?
don’t you ever hear something and can’t wait to tell me?
i guess what i’m trying to ask is
if you really have so little passion
or if you’re just not passionate about me.

—  we were sitting across from each other screaming, but i was the only one making a sound

dabard95  asked:

Imagine Percy has gone off to help some hapless campers once again, and Annabeth isn't too worried because come on, it's PERCY. Then she reaches into her pocket for something, some change or her keys maybe, and instead she pulls out Riptide in its pen form.

Her fingers close around something narrow and smooth, and Annabeth’s heart stutters to a stop in her chest. 

The kids are dancing around her knees, squealing and hitting out at each other, each calling for her attention, and the baby’s balanced on her hip and crying because her favourite pacifier has gone missing and the gods know she won’t accept any replacements. They’re running horrendously late for lunch with Frederick, and it’s pure chaos, but everything slows down as Annabeth pulls her hand out of her pocket and looks down to see the pen. The magical pen that is always meant to find its way back to Percy’s pocket.

But it’s not in Percy’s pocket, it’s in hers, and that means that he’s gone out to help rescue some campers stranded by the Hudson without any weapon.

Oh, shit.

Keep reading

Bertholdt, Armin and the Colossal Titan

I was going to wait to see Armin’s Titan form properly before posting this, but that might be never, so here it is now! I’ll update if we ever do get to see it.

Shifter lore is something I hope Isayama will reveal in more detail, as there is still so much of it we don’t know. One of the most controversial moments in the story was when Armin gained the power of the Colossal Titan. Let’s see what Isayama did to set up this story event, and if it can reveal anything about the Nine, the Colossal Titan specifically.

Armin and Bertholdt are unique in that they’re thrown against each other, in a similar way to Eren and Reiner. During the Clash Arc, while the rest of the 104th try to appeal to Reiner and Bertholdt, they question why they would betray them, calling back on their times in training. Mikasa is purely antagonistic towards them, she pushes past that and is focused on getting Eren back, ignoring Bertholdt’s pleas. Armin’s antagonism towards Bertholdt is something different. He is notably the only one who doesn’t say anything in this scene, but he is the focus of a panel when Bertholdt says “Someone has to stain their hands in blood” (to that effect).

When Armin faces Bertholdt later, he takes advantage of Bertholdt’s feelings for Annie. This attack is such a deeply personal thing, beyond attacking “humanity’s enemies”. In doing so, he shattered whatever friendship they had beyond repair. No one else in the story does this with Bertholdt. Armin goes further than needing to get the job done, he toys with Bertholdt, he’s gratuitous in his words, shocking even Eren who knows Armin better than anyone. The distraction works; Bertholdt is furious. He loses his temper and tries to attack Armin. “Children of the devil”, the first time we have any indication of why the Warriors believe the people in the walls should die. This is the first time he deliberately targets Armin, but wouldn’t be the last.

The next significant confrontation they have is in the Return Arc, and the confrontation on the roof.

Bertholdt is a different character at this point, and this is a different situation to the Clash Arc. This time he has allies, they have a plan, they have the clear advantage, they’re so close to finishing their job. Bertholdt in this arc has a clear head, he’s calm, to the point of being unnerving. Armin makes the mistake of thinking he’s the same as when they last met, which ignites Bertholdt’s anger again, but he’s learnt from his mistakes and is very aware of the soldiers around him. He listens to Armin, he tells him that he will accept nothing less than handing Eren over and everyone dying. This goes against what they’ve said in previous arcs: that they would leave the walled people alone if they handed Eren over. Bertholdt also attacks Armin exactly where he needs to: he goes straight for Armin’s insecurities, something he has not been able to deal with.


“I know, as long as you’re standing there shaking, you aren’t able to do a thing.”

This hits Armin harder than I think even Armin expected, and he freezes up, going so far as to ask Jean to take over command for him. Where Armin had previously tormented Bertholdt by using his feelings for Annie, so Bertholdt uses Armin’s insecurities against him. They both use deeply intimate and personal traits against one another. 

Bertholdt transforms, and after a time Armin comes up with a plan, sacrificing everything he has to give Eren the opening to defeat Bertholdt.

The interactions between Bertholdt and Armin throughout the story have built up to this scene. Armin is horrifically burnt by the steam of the Colossal Titan, and it is through doing this that Bertholdt meets his downfall. Armin receives the serum, and Bertholdt is eaten by the very person he had tried to kill.

Connections

As we can see from previous interactions, Armin has been singled out numerous times when it comes to Bertholdt. Isayama specifically focuses on Armin when he reacts to Bertholdt eating a person during their reveal. 

Armin is focused on during Bertholdt’s “hands stained with blood” scene. The concept of descendants of the devil is introduced through the reaction that Bertholdt has to Armin’s words. 

Character wise, Bertholdt and Armin are quiet and unassuming. They don’t draw attention to themselves, they fade into the background when around their louder, more extroverted and confident friends. They both have the same mannerisms, they both are the only male characters in the series to use “boku” rather than “ore”, a reflection of their personalities and how they present themselves.

The ritual of passing on shifter powers is shown to be as intimate as it is horrifying (I’d go as far to say it’s violating, especially considering the context of how it happened here). It’s mentioned numerous times in the narrative that the previous shifters live on in the current one, their memories alive in them. Bloodlines play a role in that memories are more easily accessible when a Titan power is inherited into the same family, but as we see with Porco in chapter 93, the memories are still very much accessible without that. That Armin and Bertholdt, two characters who are so very much alike, yet on opposite sides on the battlefield, have been placed together like this is no coincidence. We don’t know if Bertholdt’s memories will affect Armin, or if he will even receive them at all but, narratively speaking, that Armin, out of all the characters, was chosen is no coincidence at all. The sheer irony that Armin inherited the very same power that so nearly killed him

Which brings us to the Colossal Titan.

The CT is the icon of the series. Characters call it “The God of Destruction”. It’s capable of massive devastation, levelling entire battlefields during transformation alone. It was the catalyst that began our story. It was also in the possession of a shy, quiet boy. It was passed on to another shy, quiet boy, coincidentally the first of the main cast to lay eyes on it.  

This makes me wonder if the shifters are determined by fate already, before they’re born; everything already decided for the past, present and future. The Attack Titan has been inherited by people whose “eyes that could burn the world to ashes”. The Armoured Titan was inherited by Reiner, who we learn was never meant to have it. If Reiner has his way, it’ll be inherited by Falco, who would have also only received it by way of intervention. Were these people always destined to host the Titans? With Armin and Bertholdt’s antagonistic relationship all leading up to the final battle and the similarities between them,  one could almost think it was all destiny.

I believe the Titans themselves could be sentient, only “awakening” rarely. The 145th King made a deal with the Founding Titan. Eren has a dream of the Attack Titan after hardening for the first time. Armin sees the Colossal Titan looking down at him while weeping. 

Was this a vision of Bertholdt, or perhaps the Colossal Titan itself, weeping for the tragedy the Eldian people have to endure? What is it about Armin and Bertholdt that this Titan was passed on to them? Is it fate, or all just an unhappy coincidence that both the inheritors share so much?

Hopefully these questions will be answered at some point in the future. 

Thanks for reading! 

Rooftop Night // Jughead Jones Smut (ish)

Pairing: Jughead Jones x reader

Requested: Yes and I’m so so sorry that you had to wait for so long, hope you’ll like it xo

Warning: kissing, cursing, makeout session going on also

Word count: 1,345

Plot: You and Jughead are friends. One night when you’re at his place things get heated, but you’re on your period. What will happen?

A/N: You know you can stil´l request me and I promise I’ll write it faster, but I was so busy with graduating and parties with my friends that I just didn’t have time, but now I do. Enjoy x

A song to listen while reading :)

Originally posted by colexlili

I do not own that gif !


I wake up to my phone buzzing. I got a text from Jughead.

Juggie: Please come over, I’m so bored !

I smile at my phone and check the time. It’s 10 minutes past midnight.

Me: My parents won’t let me.. :(

You respond and see him typing.

Juggie: Just don’t tell them, sneak out

Me: You know they’re going to kill me if they find out

Juggie: No they won’t , ‘cause they won’t find out

Keep reading

in which flash lives in a fancy house and peter and michelle are far too dorky for their own good.

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine (THIS ONE!)

  • okay, so like. mj always knew that flash was wealthy, you know. he drives a really fancy car and he wears an expensive watch. his hair is always styled in that…rich dude way. but she’s never really had to face how wealthy he truly is until she’s driving deep into the suburbs, surrounded on either side by houses that keep getting larger and more grandiose.
  • ned is in the back just, gawking. “that house is the size of my apartment building!” “oh my goodness, is that a fountain?” “that car has a rolls royce just parked in the driveway!” and ned’s gasping breaths are the soundtrack to their car ride because peter’s phone died and they don’t know the radio stations this far out of the city.
  • when they finally pull up to his house, there is a large driveway that leads up to an even larger house. cars are lined up and down the block and they seem some people from school walking up the driveway. mj parks around the corner and takes a deep breath. she turns around to look at ned and betty and smiles, “ready?”
  • when she looks back at peter, he has the odd look on his face that she doesn’t really want to deal with right now. “ready, loser?” she asks him. and before he can answer, she opens the car door and stretches. when she walks around the car, peter is waiting for her. “ready as ever.” he answers.
  • she can’t help it so she wraps her arms around his shoulders and he wraps his arm around her waist. they walk like that to the party, peter snug under her arm and him pulling her close.
  • she ignores the smug look on ned’s face when he wiggles his eyebrows at her. she just turns and looks straight ahead, allowing herself to enjoy the feel of his fingers squeezing at her waist.

Keep reading

Wow so this happened… On a semi hiatus but here’s a lil angsty smutty gift for y'all. Happy Sunday.

Originally posted by happybirthdayjjk

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.

.

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Drabble game prompt #12. “Say it!”


He fucks you relentlessly into the sheets, and turns you around so you’re on your hands and knees.

His fingers slide provocatively up your slit from behind as he guides himself back into you, and the both of you let out simultaneous moans as you reconnect.

You mewl as he continues thrusting, and suddenly a hand that’s anchoring him upright next to your head comes down to your chest, pressing up to indicate that you should get up on your hands. Confused, you let him pull you up so that your back is up against his chest and your hands are coming down to hold your weight. The hand slides up your neck and continues until he’s cupping your jaw.

“J-jungkook?” You whimper as his hips don’t stop thrusting into you, hitting that spot that has you seeing stars.

He doesn’t respond and instead yanks your jaw harshly to the right, turning the both of you to face the nightstand.

And then you see what he sees.

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Handy Helpers

A CS Modern AU featuring Captain Charming as Handymen with a side of Snowing and some Ruby being Ruby. 

Rated: M for smut and swears. One-shot. About 13K words. 

[On AO3 here]

A/N: About a month or so ago, my house was being remodeled to sell. I made a post about how it gave me a need to write David and Killian as handymen, and a few folks seemed interested in the idea. So, instead of updating one of my many WIPs, I did… this. It is silly and a little smutty and full of bad puns and innuendo. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If not… then go yell at @tnlph because she read the beginning part and egged me on. 


Emma always thought of her apartment as quirky and charming. It had character. It’s… okay, it’s kind of a dump. But it’s hers and she liked it the way it is and had no intention of changing it. That is, until her building all of a sudden went co-op, meaning her quirky little rent-controlled rat hole is about to be a gentrified, mortgage-requiring nightmare that she simply can’t afford on her bail bondsperson income.

To add insult to injury, the new co-op board is making her fix the place up so they can sell it out from under her. They had the decency to offer her reimbursement for some of the renovation expenses, but damn. After the fourth general contractor laughed in her face when she told him the budget, she didn’t know what she was supposed to do.

Well, besides whiskey drinking and late-night google searching.

It is in the throes of these activities that she finds them: Handy Helpers. Two guys, three hands, everything you need for your home improvement project. It doesn’t occur to her until much later that there’s a numerical irregularity in that advertisement.

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Sleepless Nights, touken headcanon/mini-fic

Summary: It’s their first time sleeping together on the same bed and Kaneki can’t take his hands off Touka.

I totally hate this, it looked so much better inside my head, my inspiration sucks—i’m super tired right now& i can’t speak proper english today, but i really wanted to take this idea off my head AAAAND give this to @yorozuya-ken-chan as her birthday gift 😭 ♡ I LOVE YOU ANITA, this is so crappy, i’m so sorry -sobs- i promise i’ll write you something 2369726 better next time, WAIT FOR ME🙏 (the only good thing about this is the ending, huehue, jon&ygritte hints)

i wanted to make this a smut but i really feel like the words aren’t coming to my head today, so this is just… a bit lime? not even a lime 😂  shame on me.. anyway, take this more like a lazy headcanon instead of a well-written fic *sobs* i’ll bring good smut soon.. I promise, ANITA DESERVES BETTER ✨

Preview

“Kaneki.”

“Y-Yes?” he stammers.

“If you want me to sleep with you in your room, just say it.”

He’s shaking.

“Oh, w-well…”

“Do you?”

He swallows.

“I-I mean, if you ever feel col—“

Touka sighs.

“Fine. I’ll sleep with you tonight then.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

22. Muffled, from the other side of the door - Stony please and not too angsty hehe. THANKS!

Okay, this is super late nonnie, but thank you so much for the prompt <3 This is my first time writing for Steve/Tony, hope you like it and it’s not too angsty for you!

This is also for @captainstarkreportingforduty​ as a late birthday present, thank you for being awesome and for being the most amazing friend :DD

____________________________________________________________________

“You’re gonna have to talk to him sooner or later, you know?”

Steve acknowledged Natasha’s entrance with a nod before looking down at his sketchbook. He always liked to draw whenever he was upset and today was no exception, except this time the subject of this particular sketch was also the reason for his bad mood, and that didn’t help at all.

“He’s just gonna take what I say the wrong way and we’ll end up fighting again.” Nat approached the couch, nudging Steve aside to make space for herself.

“Well, considering you accused him of a reckless adrenaline junkie, I’m not sure how else you wanted him to take that. Rhodey says he’s been in the workshop for two days.”

Steve sighed and buried his face in his hands, fighting back the urge to march down to Tony’s workshop and check on him. Two days wasn’t even close to the longest amount of time he’d spent absorbed in a project, but he usually had Steve or Rhodey to remind him that food was something he needed every few hours or so to function properly, and he always asked JARVIS to lock them out whenever he was in a mood.

“I know! I just- you know I didn’t mean it like that, Nat.” she smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Of course you didn’t Steve, but Tony can’t see that. When you yell at him for being stupid and reckless enough to take a shot for you, it’s because of you love him, and you can’t stand to see him hurt, especially for you.”

Steve blushed, opening his mouth to issue an immediate denial, when Nat laughed, shooting a knowing look in his direction. “Don’t even bother Rogers, every single person on this team knows you think the sun sets and rises on Tony’s shoulders. In fact, I’m pretty sure you spend most of your time doodling “Steve loves Tony” in your sketchbook when you’re not drawing him in the workshop for the millionth time.” She paused. “Well, I’m not sure Tony knows. Although how that’s possible I have absolutely no clue, considering you moon after him even more than he does for you, and the boy’s got it bad.”

“He doesn’t-I-” Steve shook his head, placing his sketchbook down on the table. “I fucked up Nat. He’s cares so much about everyone on this team and he tries so hard to help people because he still can’t see how much of a godamn hero he is, and then I go off and accuse him of risking people’s lives for his own enjoyment. I just - I can’t stand it whenever he throws himself in harm’s way for me, not when the serum can take it.” He swallowed. “Not when he’s the person I love the most in the entire world.”

“Wow. You finally said it. Steve Rogers everyone, finally back from his swim in the Nile.” He laughed, leaning backwards against the couch. “I knew, I just didn’t want to say it, because that would make it real. And if it’s real that means I have to tell him. I need him, Nat. I love him, but more than that I need him. I couldn’t live with wrecking our friendship over this.”

Natasha met his eyes with a considering look. “And how is this any better? Blowing up at him because you’re too afraid to tell him how you feel, pushing him away when you feel too much at the thought that he might get hurt? We’re Avengers, Steve, we stare death in the face on a pretty regular basis, and if you really love Tony, that’s something you’re going to have to accept. He wouldn’t be the man you love if he didn’t risk his life every day to save others, to save you. Don’t make your love a weakness, make a strength. Tell him.”

Steve let out a breath. “Well what the hell am I supposed to say, Nat?” “Tony, I’m so sorry I yelled at you for being reckless, the truth is the thought of you getting hurt in my place tears me up inside because I’m stupidly head over heels in love with you and have been for months?” He heard a loud clatter and looked up, only to find Tony staring at him, mouth open in astonishment, his porcelain coffee mug shattered in pieces across the floor.

“Steve-” Tony started to speak, but Steve was up in an instant, fleeing from the room in a dead run, his breath coming in short panicked breaths as his world compressed down to an overwhelming feeling of sick dread. Tony knew. It was all out in the open now – no more pretending that the sight of Tony half-asleep and incoherent in the mornings didn’t send his heart aflutter, no more biting down a flood of jealousy at the sight of Tony charming investors at a charity gala… Tony knew and it was all over now.

He turned the corner, finally reaching his room before slamming the door shut behind him. He sank to the floor, face in his hands. He always knew Tony never feel the same way about him, but the look of utter shock on his face when he heard Steve’s words was almost too much to bear, as if Tony had never even considered Steve as a romantic possibility.

Suddenly behind him he heard a frantic knock on the door. “Steve? Steve- it’s me.” It was Tony, his voice desperate. At the sound of his voice, Steve looked up. Oh god, just when he thought things couldn’t get worse, now here was Tony was chasing after him, either to offer him comfort before having the “I just want to be friends talk”, or worse, to break off their friendship entirely. Steve cleared his throat, hoping against hope that his voice would remain steady. “Tony, I’m fine, I just – I just need to be alone for while. It’s fine.” It was absolutely, extremely not fine, but it’s not like Steve could open his eyes and suddenly wake up in an alternate universe where instead of being horrified at Steve’s confession, Tony returned his feelings so he didn’t really have any other options.

“No wait Steve you don’t understand! I-“ Steve sighed loudly. Why couldn’t Tony just make things easier for him? Confessing his feelings and being accidentally overhead was bad enough, now he had to put on a brave face about it. He stood up, his hand on the doorknob, when he heard Tony’s voice from the other side of the door “Steve, I’m- I’m in love with you too. I’m sorry I reacted badly, I just didn’t expect it, and I was thought you were still-“

His words were cut off by a loud bang as Steve threw the door open, and there was Tony standing in front of him, tired and like he did after he had spent days on a project in the workshop, but his eyes were bright, there was a small nervous smile on his face. He was the most beautiful thing Steve had ever seen.

“You love me?” his voice came out wobbly and disbelieving, but he couldn’t bring himself to care when Tony grinned and nodded, moving closer into his space. “Yeah, I do.” He looked down before hesitantly tangling their fingers together, sending a curl of warmth through Steve’s stomach. And what you said about the thought of me being hurt because of you tearing you up inside? That’s how I feel whenever you get hurt, so I’m not gonna apologize for taking a hit for you when I can.”

Steve smiled, putting his arms around Tony and pulling him impossibly close. “And why is that?”

Tony laughed, beaming up at him. “Because I love you, jerk.”

universal-glitch  asked:

Can you write the Connor x Internet friend! Reader as a fanfic. I would love it if you did.

Message Me || Connor Murphy x Reader (PART 1 OF 5)


requested : yep
prompt: n/a
pairing : connor murphy x reader
warnings : suicide plan mention
additional notes : reader is female, based off of a Connor X Internet friend reader headcanon by @watch-the-whole-world-disappear, they meet on tumblr, connor runs an Edgy™ Aesthetic Blog, WHICH I RUN BTW, NOT THAT THERES ANYTHING ON IT YET BUT YEAH FOLLOW ME AT @connor-fvckng-mvrphy lmao it’s a Connor roleplay blog


Bored. Bored. Bored.

Bored is such a boring word. In this moment, you’ve never heard a word that describes you so much.

You scroll listlessly through your tumblr, liking random images and quotes from this one aesthetic blog that you follow. Your eyes wander, not that you’re finding anything interesting, until you come across an interesting poem.   

dark-aesthetic🔃connor-fvckng-mvrphy 

I have to get this
off my chest before
I straighten every crooked object
offensive clutter distraction
OCD
nervous as fuck
I’ll pull out every hair
or tear my fingers off
If I don’t figure out how to look
in your eyes
without screaming

I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I can’t remember anything before you
I can’t imagine anything without you
I want to live the rest of my life with you

But only if you think I’m cool
We should just kill ourselves

‘Interesting,‘ You think, 'Edgy, but very interesting.’

This guy (girl? other?) seems interesting. Relatable. You click on their name, intrigued.


At one click, you fall in love with the account. You follow on first sight.

According to his bio, his name is Connor and he’s seventeen. His posts consist of black-and-white photos of chipped nail-polish, of pale wrists with even paler scars zigzagged across the stick-thin appendage. Quotes by Poe, little poems like the first one you read. 

He’s tortured, you know. But you can’t bring yourself to message him, like the little stalker you are.

Hours of pouring over his account turn into days, days into weeks, until finally you have been an avid fan of his for a month. 

And then it all comes crashing down.

One day, you refresh your page, bored, and there’s a new post from him. Literally must have been posted not even a minute ago. 

connor-fvcking-mvrphy 

this is not going to be a great week
or year or life
or anything inbetween
i thought for a millisecond
that i had found a friend
a kindred spirit
but you fucking tore it up

fuck you, E.H.
your friend too
go ahead and laugh
laugh all you want
but will you be laughing when the school shooter is dead?

goodbye

You’re worried.

This poem…was not like the others.

This was angry. This was raw. This was…this was real.

You bite your lip. Your eyes flick down to the tags.

#suicide plan #goodbye

Shit. Your eyes widen and you click on your inbox, typing in a message frantically

you
hi I know you don’t know me but I just saw the tags on your newest poem and im freaking out
please please don’t kill yourself
I’m sorry it’s just your poems are really relatable and help me a lot and i feel like I’ve gotten to know you through them and oh my god you probably think I’m so creepy I’m so sorry

You wait, terrified, for a response.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three,

four,

five.

There is no answer, and you bury your head in your pillow and try not to cry. You can’t help it, your shoulders shake with wracking sobs. You probably failed at saving this guy, you failed so bad. You suck, oh god, you suck.

After another five minutes of sobbing, you hear a loud ding from your phone, and you blearily stare at the screen through unshed tears.

connor-fvckng-mvrphy
im flattered
I didn’t realise that somebody actually read my poems or my tags or cared or…

You gasp in relief, fingers tap-tap-tapping out a reply. 

you
OH thank god I thought that you had…
Are you okay??
thats a stupid question omg I'm sorry

connor-fvckng-mvrphy
im fine
actually…i feel much better.
thanks for, you know.
caring.

you
Anytime!
I’m [y/n] btw

connor-fvckng-mvrphy
connor

you
i know
thats creepy oh my god;sorry

connor-fvckng-mvrphy
it’s fine ig I mean it is in my bio so??? its chill

you
:)

connor-fvckng-mvrphy
so this might sound weird but ????
you’re…pretty cool.
i just looked over your account and wanted to know
well you know
want to talk more???

you
wow im??? Really???

connor-fvckng-mvrphy
yeah i mean you helped me there,,,like a lot,,,

you
id love to !!!!


You talked almost every day. When you got down to it…he was a sweetheart. He was kind. He got you.

connor-fvckng-mvrphy
do you think, like…
well ever get to meet each other??
imean you’re a really great friend now and???
id like to meet you.

you
i wish
but we live like eight hours away from each other…

connor-fvckng-mvrphy
ill drive to you!

you
calm down, connor…lmao
we don’t want you burning out on the way

connor-fvckng-mvrphy
:( I don’t even know what you look like…

you
i don’t know what you look like either! XD

connor-fvckng-mvrphy
shit well
if I send you a picture of me
will you do the same?

you
sure ig

connor-fvckng-mvrphy
me.jpg my sister took the photo so,,,

you
WHOA
YOU’RE SO PRETTY WTF I THINK IM IN LOVE

connor-fvckng-mvrphy
id prefer handsome but I’ll take it
your turn, missy.

you
hnnghhh okay
bewarnedIlooklikeapotato.jpg

connor-fvckng-mvrphy

holy shit

you
bad???

connor-fvckng-mvrphy
YOU’RE SO FUCKING CUTE???
WHAT THE FUCK THAT SHOULD BE ILLEGAL IM-

you
no no no I am definitely not wtf you need your eyes checked?

connor-fvckng-mvrphy
no way you’re fucking adorable
i think /I’m/ in love you cute lil motherfucker


 connor-fvckng-mvrphy
we should swap phone numbers

you
and skype??

connor-fvckng-mvrphy
fuck yeah

you
oKay !!! im [skype/name] and my number is [number]

connor-fvckng-mvrphy
my Skype is the same as my tumblr and my phone number is XXXX XXXXXX

you
saved and I just texted you too :)

connor-fvckng-mvrphy
'hi Connor!!!!’ with a bunch of happy emojis?
dude you’re just,,,
thats really fucking cute

you
wh y???? do you keep calling me cute I’m???

connor-fvckng-mvrphy
because, as it turns out, i have a really cute best friend

you
best friend??
awww connor!!!

connor-fvckng-mvrphy
yeah yeah
you’re literally all I have, [y/n]

you
you’re my best friend too!!
i really wish i could meet you…

connor-fvckng-mvrphy 
me too…hold on a sec

you
connor??? you okay???

connor-fvckng-mvrphy
my sister just walked in and was being a dick, being nosy about who I’m talking to and not believing that it was a friend. She thinks I’m talking to my dealer.
i fucking hate her sometimes

you
do you?

connor-fvckng-mvrphy
…no
but she thinks I do. It’s easier to let her.

you
*internet hug*

connor-fvckng-mvrphy
Fuck…that’s cute.


 As time went on, you found yourself more and more drawn to Connor. His photos could always make you smile, and nothing brightened up a shitty day more than clicking on his Skype name and watching him answer a video call, smiling dopily at the camera.

And also as time went on…you slowly began to realise why.

You were in love with him. 

Fuck, you were in love with a guy eight hours away. A guy that you had never met in real life. What do you do?

…You continue pining for him over a distance, of course.

You watch yourself in the screen, waiting for Connor to pick up the Skype call. Soon enough, he does, and his grinning face fills the screen.

“Hey, [y/n].” He greets sleepily - it’s like, midnight over there - and rests his chin on his hands.

“Heya.” You wave at the camera, grinning sheepishly and a little shyly. The thrill of actually seeing him rather than just a message still gets you.

“It’s almost Valentine’s Day, huh?”

“Yep! Any special girl that you had in mind?” You ask, a hopeful smile plastered on your face.

“No, well…actually…” He furrows his brow, and your heart drops.

“Is she pretty?” You ask, concealing your jealousy. You could be there for him.

“She’s cute. Like, really fucking cute.” Connor says, watching you carefully.

Truth be told, Connor felt the same way. He was absolutely crazy about you, but he didn’t want to ruin this adorably heartwarming friendship you had.

To wake up and have no more *internet hug* messages or cute little reminders…it’d ruin his life. You were absolutely the only thing keeping him going.

You talked for ages, until it was about 2:30 on his end. Before long, he was getting tired. 

“I should go soon.” He says drowsily. 

“Mmmm.” You don’t want him to go. “Night, Con.”

“G'night.” He yawns. “Love you.”

You freeze. He freezes and hurriedly leaves the video chat.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Connor slams his head on his desk, pissed off. “I fucked up. I fucked up.” He mumbles.

A small chime comes from his computer and he bites his lip, glancing reluctantly at the screen.

you
i love you too!!!!

cosmic-files-87  asked:

2/11/15 MSR for the angsty list....I know....I am an ass.... (but really!!!!! Please write that!!!!)

2 - I don’t need you. I don’t need any of you.

11 - You can’t keep hurting me and then demand I apologize instead.

15 - You betrayed me.

Author’s Notes: Okay, this one hurts. Like a kick to the groin kind of hurt. I almost feel bad. It is high angst & will probably piss some of you off. If you proceed – you were warned. Post IWTB.

Two Weeks, Too Cold

It’s been two full weeks since she’s seen him.

She can’t remember the last time she went more than a day without hearing his voice – What’s up, Doc? – watching him as he watched her, or felt his broad chest against her back as he spooned her to sleep.

I won’t be coming home, she had said. Don’t do this, he had begged.

Scully keeps telling herself that she made a mistake by letting him kiss her as she stood in their front yard with tears rolling down her face, by entertaining the notion that they could ever hide from the darkness. It was cruel, she thinks, because even then she knew that she wouldn’t be coming back home.

Which isn’t exactly true, because she did come home, briefly, to gather a bag or two of her belongings. Her chest aches at the memory – of the desperate tears and of his voice breaking on each  I’m sorry and please don’t leave me.

That was two weeks ago. Two weeks that have been filled with work, because if she can’t help the man she loves then at least she can help a child breathe. Two weeks filled with too much coffee, because her fingers feel ice cold without his own interlaced with them. Too little sleep, because her skin trembles and aches without his hands there to gentle away the nightmares.

Two weeks, she has decided, is long enough.

I just want to see him, she tells herself as she guides her car onto the long gravel drive that leads to their shared home. The house is modest, but cozy. Most of all, it’s theirs. The few tangible things they’ve shared in the past have been wrenched away from them – but not their home. No blood to scrub out of the carpet, no taped X in the window to summon life-threatening information. It’s just home, and it’s theirs.

She steps out of her car into the crisp air of early morning to pull open the gate, and she smiles to herself. The ritual of it is comforting. Countless mornings and evenings have began and ended with opening this gate, letting herself back into the beautiful, private world she shares with Mulder.

Pulling into her spot in front of the house, she sees a strange car. She frowns curiously. Did he go out and buy a car after I left? She wouldn’t put it past him, except that it would require his actually leaving the house (and nothing short of a psychic priest has convinced him to do so thus far).

On her walk to the front door, her heart begins to hammer against her ribs at the thought of seeing him again.  It’s only been two weeks, she chides herself. Still, she expects that he may be angry. When he’s hurt, he tends to deflect – in his case, that means petulant withdrawal and an abundance of sarcasm.

She draws in a deep breath and unlocks the door. He may still be asleep, she realizes as she steps into quiet darkness. It’s just after five o’clock in the morning. Just because she hasn’t been able to rest doesn’t mean he can’t.

But oh, she’s finally home. She closes her eyes, relishing the smell of Mulder’s aftershave mingled with the scent of the roses he had delivered to her office just a week before those goddamned agents showed up at the hospital. She remembers bringing them home, carefully tucking them into a vase of water. They’re beautiful, she had told him. Not as beautiful as you, he had replied, his hand tucked against the small of her back.

“Who are you?”

Scully starts at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, opening her eyes to see a woman standing at the threshold where kitchen becomes living room.

A woman.

Tall. Brunette. Holding a glass of water. Wearing only a t-shirt and a confused expression.

“This is my house,” Scully says, the words scraping past a throat that has gone as dry as desert sand. “Who are you?”

The woman stares back, tugging at the hem of her t-shirt uncomfortably.

No, not her t-shirt. Mulder’s t-shirt. Scully’s favorite shirt that Mulder owns, because it’s soft and worn and somehow still smells like the cologne he wore the first time she slept in his arms, even after all these years.

I’m going to be sick, this is not happening, oh Mulder what is going on…

The woman finally speaks, clearing her throat. “He – he said he lived alone.”

I’ve wandered into the wrong house, Scully thinks numbly. That’s the only explanation that makes sense.

But no. That’s Mulder’s shirt, and that’s the drinking glass my mother gave to me when we moved here. That’s the couch where Mulder and I made love less than a month ago.

“Scully.”

This can’t be the wrong house, because that’s Mulder. He’s standing in front of her, and he’s not wearing my favorite shirt, he’s not wearing a shirt at all, and he looks terrified, and oh God I’m going to be sick…

“Mulder?” Her voice sounds tiny. Her hands are still freezing, but now her palms are sweating as her stomach churns. Please explain this, Mulder, she begs silently. Please please please please.

“Who is she?” When the other woman speaks again, Scully wants to scream at her. She has no right to ask that. Scully is the one who should be demanding an explanation. She’s the one who deserves an answer. Not this stranger, with her morning-after hair and her long smooth legs brushing the hem of Mulder’s shirt.

I’m going to be sick.

“Mulder?” This time, her voice is louder, sharper, less please tell me this isn’t what it looks like and more how fucking could you.

He doesn’t acknowledge the other woman’s inquiry, instead stepping toward Scully with his hand outstretched. “Scully,” he begins, and her name on his lips tells her all she needs to know. She’s heard him speak her names countless times – calling to her for help, playfully teasing her, comforting her in times of distress, moaning in ecstasy as she coaxes him to climax, even shouting in anger during a particularly intense argument.

Never – never – has he said her name with this desperate, helpless tone threaded through it.

The woman has disappeared, and Scully can hear her in the bedroom – our bedroom  – gathering her things, probably eager to get away from this house – our house – and whatever is about to happen between them.

Mulder moves forward, and she sees panic etched into the lines of his face.

She squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head as the full realization of what’s happening settles over her. “No,” she chokes, swallowing against a throatful of stomach acid. “No, no, no.”

“I’m sorry, Scully, please let me explain.”

Her eyes fly open, and she wraps her arms around herself. “Explain?” Her voice catches on a sob. “What is there to explain?” She stares at his face, his beautiful face, and it’s more than she can take, his eyes full of regret. She backs away, grappling for the doorknob.

“Scully, don’t leave. Please.”

Two weeks, Mulder!” Her stomach aches, her head pounds, and I need to get out of here, this is not happening. “I was gone two fucking weeks!”

She is hot and cold at the same time, her clammy palms sliding against the doorknob as her fingers shake uncontrollably. She feels the heat of his body behind her, and oh God, she wants to lean into him, just to warm her hands, but nonononono, she has to leave, she cannot stay another minute in this house.

When he places a hand against her shoulder, her entire body recoils. “Get the hell away from me,” she gasps, her breaths coming in shorter spurts now, her lungs burning.

The doorknob finally relents, and she shoves against the door, stumbling outside where it’s still so cold, it’s not home, and she can’t breathe, and fuck you Mulder how dare you how fucking dare you.

He follows her across the yard. “Scully, please.”

She doesn’t break stride or respond. She’s almost to her car when she feels his hand catch the arm of her coat. She jerks free, but his grasp is lighter than she expected, and the heel of her boot slides against a leftover patch of ice. 

Under any other circumstance, she would have caught herself. The reflexes instilled in her all those years ago in FBI field training never failed her before, but she can’t even catch her breath so how is supposed to support her full weight?

Maybe she doesn’t even want to.

Her knee meets the ground with a sharp crunch, and she hisses in pain.

Immediately, Mulder is at her side. “Oh God,” he says, and reaches for her again. She slaps his hand away, and finally the tears she’s been fighting break through, streaming hot against her chilled face.

“In our bed, Mulder,” she says bitterly, leaning back against the tire of her car. “I was gone two weeks, and you fucked someone in my bed.” She tries to suck in a lungful of air, but is met with resistance when the breath halts on a sob. So this is what suffocation feels like.

“I was drunk,” he whispers miserably.

“When are you not?”

He flinches, but continues. “I don’t know what happened. Scully, I don’t even know her.”

“Where did you meet her, Mulder?” She glares through her tears. “All this time, while I’ve been working, have you just been out meeting women to bring back to our home? Our bed?”

“Of course not,” he breathes, staring at her in horror. “Never. You know me better than that.”

“I thought I did,” she whispers brokenly. “I never believed you would do this. Not in a million years, Mulder.”

“Neither did I.“ His voice is pitiful and sincere.

She swallows thickly. “You betrayed me.”

He sinks all the way down beside her. “I know,” he says quietly. “I know, and I’m so sorry.” There is a heavy silence between them for a moment before he adds, “Scully, you left me.”

Scully shifts to face him, and grits her teeth against the pain that the motion sends shooting through her knee. “You’re unbelievable,” she spits venomously. “You screw another woman in my bed, on the sheets you bought for me on my last birthday, and you’re making this my fault?” She fumbles with the top of the tire, trying to pull herself to her feet.

“Scully, stop,” Mulder pleads. “You’re hurt – your leg.”

“You’re damn right I’m hurt,” she snaps. “And it has nothing to do with my leg.”

She gives up on standing for the moment. “You never answered my question,” she tells him, her eyes burning hot into his.

“What question?”

“Where did you meet her? I’ve never known you to socialize, but clearly, there are a few parts of your character I somehow missed in all our years together.”

He stares at his hands for a moment before meeting her gaze. “I went on a walk and ended up at a bar. It’s a couple miles down the road. I had more than I planned, and she – she offered to drive me home.”

Scully folds her arms tightly around her midsection. The tire is wreaking havoc on her back, but she barely notices.

“Classy, Mulder.” She closes her eyes again, but the tears fall anyway.

He sighs. “You left, Scully. You just left, and you wouldn’t return my calls. I didn’t know if you were ever coming back.”

Scully tenses as another wave of nausea washes over her. “I left because you wouldn’t leave the house unless it was to spiral back into your fucking paranoid obsessions!” 

She covers her face with both hands. “You can’t keep doing this,” she sobs. “You can’t keep hurting me, and then demand that I apologize instead.”

“When have I done that?” His voice is laced with disbelief. “When have I ever done that, Scully?”

Fuck you Mulder fuck you fuck you fuck you –

“Fuck you,” she cries, gripping the edge of the tire again and heaving herself to her feet. “I don’t need you.” 

She ignores the throbbing in her knee when she puts weight on it. “I don’t need anyone,” she says, her voice breaking. “I think we both know I’ve survived greater losses.” She wrestles with her purse, digging for her keys. “But it’s fine. I don’t need any of you.”

Mulder touches her shoulder, and she shrugs him away again. “Don’t touch me.” She yanks her car door open. “I told you to get away from me.”

“Scully, I’m sorry,” he says weakly. “You may not need me, but I need you. I always have.”

“You didn’t need me last night,” she tosses back viciously as she forces key into ignition. “I can’t take care of you anymore, Mulder. Figure it out.”

He positions his body so that she is blocked from closing the door. “Scully,” he tries again, his voice echoing with despair. “I’m begging you. Please. You came back for a reason. Please don’t leave again.”

Her chin trembles as she answers him in a voice as brittle as dry ice. “I left for a reason, too.”

She grasps the door handle in her hand despite the remaining tremors. “Move.”

He slowly backs away, and at last she sees tears shining in his eyes. It’s too late, it’s too much this time, I can’t.

The sound of her slamming door causes him to jump. The pressure she places on her gas pedal makes her moan with pain as her knee protests the movement.

When she glances in her rearview mirror, she sees a tear-blurred image of her entire world, standing with his arms hanging helplessly at his sides.

He’s still not wearing a shirt, she realizes.

Go back inside, Mulder. It’s too cold out here.

I would know.

END.

Before you ask, yes, there will almost certainly be a follow-up.

anonymous asked:

I feel like there aren't enough phone sex fics in the fandom. Could you please take this as a prompt?

Hey anon, I’m not sure you really meant me? I’m not known for writing smut (cause I can’t write it). But I tried and here it is. Set in “Chinga”, NC-17 (I suppose). You get a read more cause it’s loooong.

Four rings before Scully picks up the phone and puts Mulder out of his misery.

“Hm, yeah.” Scully’s voice is nothing more than a tired mumble and yet Mulder finds himself sigh in relief, and grin stupidly, upon finally hearing her voice.  

“Hey Scully, it’s me. You weren’t answering your phone earlier and I – wait, I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Mulder is cradling his basketball in his arms; he better not be interrupting anything. What was the guy’s name Scully kept mentioning? Jack? He grimaces when he realizes that he’s been stroking the basketball, treating it like a lover. He lets got of it, watches it fall to the ground with a soft thud, and roll away under his desk. Wishing it was Jack’s head, kind of. Mulder has been trying to reach Scully for hours now (Is Jack to blame? He’s not sure he wants to know). He is not going to tell her how close he’s come to flying out to Maine.

“I was sleeping.”                                                                      

“It’s only… oh, it’s already 2 am. I’m sorry, Scully. You uhm, like I said, you weren’t answering your phone. I was worried.”

“I’m fine Mulder. Just really tired.”

“Some vacation, huh?” Mulder knows that he should say his goodbye now, let her go back to sleep. Except he’s so happy to hear her voice, as exhausted as it may sound, that he’s unable to be reasonable. He hasn’t seen her in days. He hasn’t heard her voice in hours. He can’t just hang up now.

“Yeah.” Scully yawns. “Mulder, was there anything you wanted? It really is late.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

hey! i was just thinking, that i've been listening to the songs harry requested on radio 1 and they've been stuck in my head for so long omg. and like, i'm not connecting the songs he requested to larry, but with each song a little scenario ab them plays in my head! was wondering if you could write little snippets based on a couple of the songs? sweetest devotion by adele and issues by julia michaels!

I got really carried away with this; I combined both of these songs and very subtly put a few of the lyrics into a mess of 3k. I hope this works for you xx



Louis watches the build up and break over a period of months. Years, even. Harry’s tired. They both are, but Harry’s exceptionally so. He’s been working nonstop on his album, his photography, himself, and now that he’s back in the limelight all day, everyday, it’s taking a serious toll. Louis doesn’t say anything or imply that Harry needs to slow down, but he wants to, just isn’t quite sure how. Harry’s been a little moodier, a little more on edge, and the whole time Louis is trying to figure out a way to approach the subject lightly, it seems that Harry has already given it just as much thought as Louis has, if not more.

“I think I wanna take some time off,” he says one night just before bed. He’s in the middle of changing his pants, tripping into them like he always does. “Like, hide, maybe?” The way he says it makes it sound like he’s asking for permission from Louis, just to make sure they’re currently at the same level.

Louis raises a brow from his position in bed and looks up, relieved, worried. “Yeah? Like go on an extended holiday?”

“Mmm, something like that.”

“Care to elaborate?”

Harry crawls into bed beside him, shirtless and shoulders pink from his sunburn. The weather was mild and about 10 degrees today - typical for January - but they spent the majority of the day outside, anyway, Harry lounging in the backyard, ignoring Louis’ request to venture out. Paps, he said simply, going back to shielding his eyes from the LA sun.

“I rented out a place in Maine,” he says, reaching for his reading glasses on the bedside table. He doesn’t really need them, but no matter how much Louis teases him about it, he continues to wear them, squinting without them. Dramatic. “I’m not even really sure where it is, but I know it’s right on a lake, it’s in the woods, it’s secluded, it’s…” He sighs. “Not here.”

Louis’ stomach tightens. “You trying to get away from me, Styles?”

“No, God no.” Harry shakes his head, curls finally grown back in and bouncing. “I’m trying to take a break from everything, but that doesn’t include you. You can come with me, if you want. But don’t feel obligated to. I know how much you love it here. And that you like writing here best.”

I love it here because you’re here. “I’m comin’ with,” he replies eventually.

“You want to?”

“Yes. You’re a bit strange for wanting to fuck off to the middle of nowhere but. I’m used to your weirdness by this point. No judgement here. I’ll come with.”

Harry smirks, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose like Louis always does. Copy cat. “Good.”

“So, when’re we leaving?”

“Thursday morning.”

“Christ, you’re an impulsive lad, aren’t you?”

“I suppose.”

“Makes life interesting.”

Harry nods, reaching for the remote for the telly, then setting it back down. “I’m very happy. I really am. I just need a change, yeah?”

“It’s okay to, like, want to step back,” Louis says softly. “You don’t have to be grateful and positive every second of the day. Wanting to escape is probably the most normal thing I can think of.”

He’s quiet for a moment, probably thinking. He purses his lips when he looks at Louis. “Thank you.”

“Absolutely.”

“And you’re gonna escape with me? Until you’re tired of me?”

Louis smiles, turning off his bedside light. “Absolutely.”

Keep reading

Patater Week (Feb 7) - Proposal

(ao3)

It was supposed to be a romantic camping getaway. Instead, they’re tearing the campsite apart as fast as possible because the radio announced a freak blizzard on the way and snowflakes are already billowing down.

They manage to get everything in the car and drive out of the woods without they get stuck in a forming snowdrift.

Alexei drives, because they’re in Canada, the car is a rental, and of the two of them, he’s the one with an international driver’s license.

(”Can’t believe you have passport but not international driver’s license, Kent. What you do when you playing in Vancouver? Or Montreal?”

“I go back to the hotel after the game and I sleep.”)

Alexei is calm but Kent is scrunched down in the passenger’s seat, seething. Alexei thinks the glower is darker than warranted, but he does kind of understand Kent’s annoyance. The camping trip was his idea. A just-over-two-years anniversary trip, since their actual anniversary was in the middle of playoffs due to their having hooked up during All Stars weekend one time and managing to admit mutual feelings of “like” around the time they realized they might be facing off for the cup.

They hadn’t, but the Skype call regarding that issue had been enlightening, to say the least.

“Is okay, Kent,” Alexei says as the windshield wipers zip across his vision and the road before him turns increasingly white. “We try again, yes? Maybe go back out tomorrow, if weather clears?”

Kent grumbles and buries his nose deeper in his coat. He’s cold-blooded and gets chills if a cool breeze blows by. Alexei loves it, because it gives him the excuse to wrap Kent up in Alexei’s warm arms all the time. Now, he pats Kent’s leg. But Kent’s not having it. He grumbles again and says, “No way this’ll clear up by tomorrow. Next week, maybe.”

“So we re-schedule our flights home,” Alexei says. He takes his hand back, because a responsible driver always has two hands on the wheel. “Stay in hotel until snow is gone. No big deal—”

And that is the moment one of their tires blows out.

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THE TRAUMA OF LIVING

I: when I was almost three years old my Baby Brother was born. He was sick, not expected to live past the first year, if he even made it that long. While he did, and then some, his life created an absence in mine. Mama stayed with him those first three years of his life, over the course of 20+ hospital admissions. Daddy had to work to pay the bills. I was shuffled. Various homes of family and family friends were second, third, fourth, fifth homes to me. I was always second best.

II: it didn’t hit me until years later. Maybe it shouldn’t matter to me, but it does. We moved down south, my Mama, Brother and me. Daddy was supposed to join us. I only really remember him visiting once, maybe twice. I suppose it could have happened more. I do remember how excited I was. I learned the reason we moved was because Daddy’s job at the mill didn’t look so stable and Mama found work three states away, and he was supposed to look down there too. I don’t think he did. We moved back half a year later. When I think back, I can’t help but feel like I wasn’t enough to make Dad stay. I wasn’t enough to make him follow.

III: parents announce their separation after bringing me home early from my best friend’s 9th birthday party. I am outraged, but deep inside, not surprised. Their anger always did hang heavy in the air. The holes in the kitchen walls said a lot. I blamed myself. If I had been a better kid. If I had been happier. If I had been more, more anything Good… I know now that that doesn’t matter. I felt better when Dad rented a house 4 houses down, as opposed to a few towns away, like later on. It always felt safer with him around even when looking back, it seemed like he hardly ever was.

IV: Dad gets hurt at work. He gets laid off. He moves back in with Mom, has surgery, has a place to stay and recover. He gets better. Finds a job. Mom moves to another state. Takes Baby Brother with her. Better services there. I was already angry from years before. She left me for him those first few years. I never realized how angry I was until I was an adult. I tried my best not to see her for years. Avoidance at almost all costs. She left me again. I’m still second best.

V: Boy tells me he loves me. Boy fills my head with lies. Tells me he loves me. Tells me he lied. Lied. Lied. Lied. Leaves. Comes back. Tells me he loves me. Promises me the world. Lies. All lies. Loves me. Loves me. Explodes. Tells me he doesn’t love me, never did. Leaves. He’s not even dust in the wind. I think he was a ghost. I don’t think I ever really knew him. I don’t think the Boy I knew was real. But he took so much of me with him.

VI: different Boy. Warms my heart. Makes me feel something. Made me think I mattered. Boy’s mother loves me. Boy tells me he loves me. I believe him. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Wanting to feel wanted. Wanting to matter for once. Boy leaves bruises. Boy scares me. Boy makes me feel trapped. I am nothing. Nothing. Nothing. I need to be Something. Boy is always mad. Always accusing. I can’t look anyone in the eye. I don’t exist in just a few short months. Boy gives me a split lip. Apologizes. Tells me it was my fault. I now Know. It is Time. It takes time. All the courage I ever had. I look Boy in the eyes. Tell him I am Done. I walk away shaking. Boy finds new Girl a week later. I unravel.

VII: I have moved houses, not Home. With Mama and Brother, with Help I desperately needed. I cannot handle myself. I cannot breathe. I am Too Much. I have always been. I left myself somewhere. I don’t know where to find Her. Can I ever find Her? Can I ever be Whole?

VIII: another Boy, months and months later. Looks at me like I hung the stars in the sky. Like a blind man seeing the sun. Like I meant something. Boy remembers how many freckles I had in kindergarten. Boy opens up to me. Kisses me so hard I forget how to breathe. So different than Boy I dated last. Didn’t leave bruises. Didn’t leave blood. I didn’t flinch when he touched me. I blink. Boy is gone. Bridge is burned. I’m left wondering what it is about me that makes everyone leave so quickly. Why am I never enough?

IX: graduated. Adult. College in the fall, part time. Faking ‘til I make it. Hometown for the summer. Reconnect with a different Boy. Drive around all night, footprints and tire treads all over the city limits.  Kiss him by the creek and almost fall, I’m so scared. I’ve been shaking. I don’t think I ever stopped. So scared of Touch. Scared of Everything. I’m always flinching. Afraid to keep it moving. Boy stops talking to me. I knew it was done the last time I kissed Him. I was Too Much. I will always be. Too Damaged. Never had a chance. I can’t be Something.

X: I am angry. Angry at everything I Was, everything I Could Be. I am hollow and on fire at all times. Seen too many hospital walls. Felt too much. Felt nothing. Felt everything. Upside down. Stalled out on a racing freeway. I do not know anything. Nothing but Destruction. I will burn Me to the ground.

XI: another reconnection. Nice Boy. Leaves. I should have known. Sleep with Hometown Boy because I’m angry. I want to Feel something. Anything. I want to be Useful. What does mattering feel like? Nice Boy comes back. Leaves. Enter Hometown Boy. Fuck. Here comes Nice Boy. I am safe with him under the stars. I can breathe. I am free. God, I’m so In Love. Safe. Safe. Safe. I’m not holding my breath, but I should. Nice Boy leaves, for good. A month late. Near asphyxiated. It was not positive. He doesn’t care that I loved him. He never told me what went wrong. I know I was the Problem. I always am. I always am.

XII: cue Hometown Boy. Let me fuck my sorrows away. I’m under the influence nearly every day for 3 straight months. I am Empty and I am Blank. Only good for being used. It is better than nothing. I cannot let myself Feel. I cannot Fall again. I faltered. Hometown Boy sometimes looked at me like I meant something to him. Said things that made me wonder. Kissed me softly some days. I lost myself again. More hospital walls. One month behind them. Venture out into the world. Hometown Boy is married now. I didn’t know… He never said a thing. I was a Fool.

XIII: I am drunk. I am A Drunk. I am swallowing sadness by the bottle. Trying to find meaning. Trying to hold onto something. Trying to pretend I am something besides miserable. Let me feel. Let me feel. Let me self-destruct some more. I don’t want to exist. It hurts. All I know how to do is hurt and I don’t know why. I cannot get my act together. I cannot give up the only thing I know how to be. I don’t know how to be anything but Nothing.

XIV: I’m seeking something in all the wrong ways. I am drinking. I am smoking. I am in the woods. With Him. Danger Boy. Red hot, flashing light, warnings, NO NO NO, but I go anyway. I am fine. I am laughing. I am spinning. Oh my god my head, my body. Danger Boy is above me, lips touching me. I am Scared. What is happening? Everything is black. There is a Void. I am in Dad’s living room. I do not know how I got there. Mama walks through the door. She looks tired. Dad looks angry. I am scared. I look at the clock. How many hours can pass without memory? I have never blacked out like this, no. I am standing upright and suddenly I can See. I can’t bring myself to say that four letter word.

XV: I can say it now. It is a word that tastes like fear. Like 4:36 pm panic attacks in the sun. Like blood from a wound. Like smoke. I shake. I am a Watcher. I can never stop. Can never be vulnerable. Can never let my guard down. Can never be made a Fool again. Can’t drive certain streets without holding my breath. Can’t stop at hometown stoplights without waiting for the Grim Reaper. Trying to find hope. Trying to be Something. I cannot be Nothing. I was born to Live and that I must do. I cannot be held down. The world cannot drown me. I will prevail. I must. I can be Everything. I at least have to try.

—  THE TRAUMA OF LIVING- Michelle Bishop
Sick Bros Forever

Anon asked: can you do a full boyf riends fic based on that headcanon that they would always get sick at the same time?

The funny thing is, they’d always been like this. Even as kids. Jeremy would walk into their elementary school with a case of the sniffles, constantly wiping his nose on his sleeve, and he’d find Michael in the same condition. At first it was funny, cute even, but then they noticed a pattern. They got colds together, flus together, stomach viruses, and even the chicken pox all at the same time. It got to the point where the Heere’s and Mell’s thought they were just passing it onto each other, so they separated their sons if they were sick. They still got sick at the same time.

Jeremy still remembers being in sixth grade when he got an awful cough, one that burned and boiled his throat. He walked into school with his head low, certain his throat was being physcially torn with each ripping cough. Every swallow felt like it had to go around a small rock, his face felt hot and flushed. And as he brought himself to his homeroom he wondered why he didn’t tell his parents he felt so shitty. Jeremy instantly trotted over to his desk, feeling the weight of gravity pulling him down to the ground, and laid his cheek against the cool sticky surface. He fell asleep without even thinking he was tired, it just swept him away with his exhaustion. Before the bell could wake him up though a hand shook his shoulder.

Jeremy grunted, peering up past his elbow, “mmuh?”

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