have you ever seen a smile so wonderful

do you ever think about the fact that steve trevor didn’t have much faith in humanity or saving people because of the combat he’d seen 

but he met diana and gave up his life to save people because diana restored that faith in him and believed in her ability to save the world. and died with a smile on his face because of her

compliment sentence starters.

’ you always know how to find that silver lining. ’
’ has anyone ever told you how beautiful you are? ’
’ you have the whitest teeth! you’ve got a hollywood smile! ’
’ you have the most beautiful eyes i’ve seen before. ’
’ i love your hair so much, it’s so pretty. ’
’ you have the best laugh in the universe. ’
’ you always dress so fabulous! you’ve got so much style! ’
’ you’re the best at anything and everything you do. ’
’ you are the smartest person i know! ’
’ sometimes i wonder why you’re my friend. ’
’ you’re the best friend anyone could ever ask for. ’
’ you always seem to have a solution for any problem. ’
’ you are the most attractive person i’ve had as a friend. ’
’ anything looks good on you! you’re perfect! ’
’ you always make the days a little brighter for people. ’
’ you’re like, really loved and adored, despite what you think. ’
’ anyone would be lucky to have you as a girl/boyfriend. ’
’ you’re going to make the best parent one day. ’
’ one day, you’re going to make someone so happy. ’
’ ever since i met you, i’d been the happiest i’ve ever been. ’
’ you are the perfect role model. ’
’ you deserve an award or something, you’re that great. ’
’ you did so good on that art work the other day! ’
’ that speech was phenomenal, left me speechless. ’
’ you’ve got an amazing face and i just want to stare at it all. ’
’ i could stare at you all day and never get tired. ’
’ you are the better looking out of the two of us. ’
’ you’re the smarter one out of the two of us. ’
’ you always smell so good. what perfume is that? ’
’ i’ll only get a make over, if you’re the one who does it. ’
’ i’d trust you with my life any day. ’
’ you have the biggest heart out of everyone i’ve ever met. ’
’ you are just the sweetest person ever. ’
’ you are so creative! i could never be that original. ’
’ your ideas are so beautiful and original, i love them. ’
’ you really do make a fantastic meal, the best i’ve ever had. ’
’ this is so delicious, oh my god, you’re amazing. ’
’ you do not need make up to look beautiful, you were blessed. ’
’ why does everything you buy fit you so well? ugh. ’
’ you give me so much inspiration. ’
’ you inspire me so much, i’ve always looked up to you. ’
Soulmate Joshua

Part of the Seventeen Soulmate Series

Your soulmate must have been an incredibly careful person. Incredibly careful. Because you were pretty sure you had barely ever received anything from them. You had grown up watching your friends gasp happily whenever they discovered some new item showing up in their backpack, or when they reached a hand into their pocket, or even materializing under their seat or at their side.

Sometimes, it made you a little sad, to have less of a connection to whoever your soulmate was, but at the same time, it was endearing to see how careful they were.

And besides, you knew they were out there. One time, right before a really important assignment where you had to give a speech, you lost the flash drive with months of hard work stored on it in the form of your notes and your power-point presentation. Right in the midst of your panic and stress, suddenly, out of no where, the flash drive popped back onto the table in front of you.

Your soulmate had lost it on purpose. So that you could have it back. The thrill of the encounter made you so confident that the speech went better than you ever could have expected. You could already feel yourself loving your incredibly careful, incredibly thoughtful, soulmate.

Keep reading

The first days are an emotional blur, joyful and exhausting. You cry because you’re your baby’s only food source and she’d starve without you, so helpless and small. You cry because you love her so much. You cry because you haven’t slept more than 5 hours in the past 3 days combined. You cry because you hurt. You cry because you are, thankfully, finally a mother with a baby in your arms.

People will tell you to sleep when the baby sleeps, and I’m sure it’s wonderful advice, but it is hard during the day. You’ll want to watch her and hold her and possibly spend a few moments interacting with your partner.

You might find it hard to believe that the baby in front of you is the same baby that was in your belly, that you’re finally getting to know the little being that you carried so long. It’s so surreal to finally put the name to the little face. It will seem more and more fitting as the days go on.

You realize that getting up to pee a million times a night while pregnant is infinitely easier than getting up to feed and change a crying newborn.

You buy a crib for the nursery, a Pack ‘n Play with a bassinet level and newborn napper feature for your bedroom, and then an Auto Rock ‘n Play. You even briefly try co-sleeping. Nothing works as easily as you hoped because your baby likes to sleep while being held, so you keep hoping and praying as you try, try again.

You won’t believe it when your little baby outgrows her newborn clothes and diapers so fast that she only gets to wear them once (or possibly not at all) and you have a stack of diapers you have to pack away. Then you race to get your 1 month old through all her 3 month clothes and size 1 diapers before those are rendered useless as well.

You will feel worse following delivery than you did while pregnant. Lighter, yes, but more unsteady, sore, and uncomfortable. You’ll get tired of smelling like Tucks witch hazel pads and Dermoplast numbing spray, but they help so you continue to use them. Along with huge pads and the hospital underwear because they fit and you don’t have to worry about staining them. Don’t be afraid to take the ibuprofen and Tylenol. Around 5 days PP you might be hit with a contraction that brings you to your knees. It lasts for more than 30 minutes and you wonder if something’s terribly wrong, if you need to call an ambulance. Most likely it’s normal. Things are all moving back into place and your uterus has to shrink somehow. Take some Advil and get in the shower. Try to breathe through the pain and use some of those labor techniques. You’ll wonder if you’ll ever feel better again. But you will, around two weeks out you will start to feel more normal. (After you’ve gotten over that sneezing cold at one week PP - ouch!)

You fear you’ll miss the teeny tiny newborn who’s just a few days old, but as she grows you’ll only love her more and more.

Towards the end of pregnancy you were probably so DONE being pregnant, but some weeks or months after delivery, you might find yourself missing your belly and looking back at pictures longingly. So try to enjoy it while you have it, and after, remember that the most beautiful part of it all is in your arms.

You’ll wonder how ANYONE does it. How has the human race even survived? It all seems so hard. But you’ll survive too. One day at a time.

You’ll look forward to the day she actually smiles at you rather than blank-staring. And when you get them, her first smiles will be the cutest thing you’ve ever seen and you’ll forever be trying to elicit them.

You’ll learn that everything takes so much longer with a newborn, especially getting ready in the morning and getting to the store. There’s usually multiple diapers and feedings and outfits involved. And that’s ok. You’ll learn to plan accordingly.

Breastfeeding, at first, is scary, especially when you find out your little babe has lost almost 9% of her body weight in 3 days, and painful, even if you’ve met with 3 lactation consultants and bought every nipple cream and shield available.. but this is normal. She will gain the weight back and it will get better. You’re both learning something new.. You’ll be so proud of every ounce she gains because your body did that.

When you’re nursing and she’s fussy or downright mad, you’ll worry and wonder: Does she have an allergy or an intolerance? Painful gas or a bubble? Is the milk coming too fast? Is she exhausted? Does she hate the taste of something you ate? Onions? Chocolate? Milk? You’d do anything if only you knew so you’ll try your best to figure it out.

The Moro/startle reflex. SO. CUTE.

She makes a lot of noise. You might be expecting sweet little coos, but usually a lot of grunts, wheezes, and snorts are involved. And mostly at night.

Sometimes Dad/S.O. will be the only one who can calm and soothe her. Try not to take it personally. Be thankful instead.

When you finally get her to sleep and go to lay her down she’ll stay still and quiet just long enough for you to think she’s soundly asleep and get back to bed. But as soon as your head hits the pillow she’ll start to fuss. It’s uncanny.

You’ll say over and over how she’s getting so big, but at the end of the day she still seems so small.

Your postpartum body will present a conundrum: on the one hand, you’ll be so proud of the beautiful life you grew but on the other hand, you might feel self conscious about the stretch marks and saggy tummy. Keep trying to convince yourself of the former.

You will want to go bra-less so bad, but won’t feel able to due to your new leakiness. Showers become twice as nice.

It will be much harder to eat. Or do anything for that matter. Food will get cold. Dishes and laundry will pile up. It will have been a couple days since you showered. Don’t worry, someone will get to it at some point. Get help when you can.

You may think you didn’t have much of a lifestyle before baby, especially if you stayed in a lot and enjoyed watching tv, but you will soon realize that even something as simple as tv-watching is difficult with a newborn. But she’s so cute that you (mostly) won’t mind.

You will love all her features: her chubby cheeks, sweet mouth and silly tongue, button nose, curious eyes, her tiny fingers and toes, round belly, and soft head. You wouldn’t trade her for the world and, already, you can’t imagine life without her.

You’ll fill up your phone’s memory with hundreds and hundreds of pictures. And will have a hard time deleting any.

The nursery that you worked so lovingly on while pregnant won’t exactly look like a nursery anymore when you realize at 1 month that she should probably be learning to sleep where she will eventually be sleeping, so you move the crib into your bedroom only to have her spend half the night back in the newborn napper in the Pack ‘n Play anyways. You’ll get a bedtime routine figured out soon enough (at least that’s what I’m telling myself, we’re still working on this one!)

Clean baby is the Best. Smell. Ever.

You’ll worry if you’ll be a good enough mother/parent to her and if you’ll be able to grow and nurture her the way she needs and deserves. Try to remind yourself that worrying about this is probably a good sign that you’re going to do just fine.

You’ll dream about your future together. Cuddles and smiles and giggles and story time and bath time and bedtime and trips to the zoo and vacations and first days of school. You know you’ll be loving her deeply for the rest of your life ❤️

—  Some things I’ve learned in the first 5 weeks with my daughter and encouragement to new moms/soon-to-be moms
Where’s daddy

(A/N): Literally so much angst and pain

Request: Hi ! I love your stories ! Do you think I can request a Bucky x Reader, where she has a 6yo son and he is Bucky’s but he doesn’t know ‘cause of HYDRA capturing him when she found out she was pregnant & they haven’t seen each other since, please?

Warnings: ANGST

Tags: @mcuimxgine, @ifoundlove-x0vanessa0x, @saradi1018, @holland-toms, @superwholockian309, @fly-f0rever, @capbuckthor, @l8nitl0vr

Originally posted by dailymarvel

    Grant Barnes ran around the park, squealing alongside all the other children. Their mothers watched them from afar, all smiling and cheering their babies on. Some of them even had fathers watching them proudly, their eyes twinkling happily and their heart full of joy. And then there was (Y/N) who was sitting on one of the benches furthest away from the playground all by herself. She had no ring on her finger, no man to kiss her cheek and call her beautiful, she had no husband and Grant Barnes had no father. Perhaps six or seven years ago he had one but that felt like a century ago, a century ago the war ended, a century ago when every woman stopped at the stations to pick up her man, when every wife presented her child to the recently returned soldier but that hadn’t been (Y/N)’s case. Rather than go and pick her lover up from the station she had sat at home, breast feeding her brand new baby boy. 

   "Momma!“ Grant yells as he approaches his mother, all smiles and giggles despite the sweltering heat of Brooklyn. "Will you come play with me?” (Y/N) smiles as she reaches out to ruffle Grant’s hair, a small, disbelieving chuckle falling from her lips. 

   “Baby, don’t you want to play with the other kids?” 

   “No mommy, I want you to come play with me,” Grant tugged on (Y/N)’s sleeve, persistent in his choice. (Y/N) chuckles as they stand up, much to Gran’ts delight as he squeals happily. 

   “What do you wanna play baby boy?”

   “I wanna play soldiers!” Grant exclaims innocently, his eyes shining with excitement. (Y/N) sighs softly as her heart aches, the memories of Bucky slowly surfacing. She had managed to keep them down, try not to dwell on the thoughts of her long lost lover but it was always inevitable- there was always something that would remind (Y/N) of Bucky. The bitter scent of coffee in the mornings, a poster for a new science convention, the smell of fresh sheets, the warmth that would surround (Y/N) every time she climbed into bed; there was always a bit of Bucky in everything, even if he never really was there. 

   “Okay, who do you wanna be?” 

   “I want to be Captain America!” Grant shouted, beaming from ear to ear. Little did Grant know that he was actually named after the man himself, (Y/N) had figured Bucky would have wanted their baby boy to have something to do with Steve and since- well, since he wasn’t around anymore the least (Y/N) could do was name her child after him. 

   “Okay Cap’n,” (Y/N) salutes their baby boy, smiling when he giggled with excitement. “Where’s our first mission?”

   “Over in Germ-Germ-Germ-” 

   “Germany?” (Y/N) suggest lightly, laughing when her son beamed at her. 

   “Yes! In Germany,” He slurred the word a bit, making his little facade even cuter. 

   “Well Cap’n, I don’t see a plane anywhere, how do you suppose we’re gonna get there?” Grant hums, stroking his chin in thought before jumping excitedly at an idea.

   “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind carrying Captain America to battle,” Grant suggest, his blue eyes shining up at (Y/N) with child like hope.

   “Captain,” (Y/N) placed a hand over her heart, sniffling softly. “It would be my honor to carry you to Germany,” And with that (Y/N) slides her arms around her baby boy, marching him across the playground and to a nearby tree or as Grant called it- Germany. Grant squealed in delight as (Y/N) made airplane noises as she all but charged for the trees, more than delighted to make their sweet baby boy happy. All the other mothers and fathers stared at (Y/N) distastefully but she didn’t care, not when Grant was laughing hysterically and having the time of his life. (Y/N) could only have wished that Bucky was here to see him…

~70 something years later~

   Bucky looked down at the file in his hands, about the life he had left behind. There were pictures of (Y/N), looking as beautiful as he remembered her but there was someone else…a little dark haired, blue eyed boy who looked like the perfect combination of Bucky and (Y/N). 

   “His name was Grant,” Fury mutters from his seat, his eyes glued to Bucky’s hands clutching the folder. “(Y/N) named him after Steve,” Bucky gulps, reaching out with a hand to run his fingers along the photographs of what should have been his wife and baby boy. “She found out she was pregnant the day you fell of the train,” Bucky sighs shakily, throwing the folder to the side as he rubs at his burning eyes. He’d left an entire life behind, he’d left behind (Y/N), the love of his life, he’d left behind his family, he’d even left behind a baby he didn’t even know he had. “It’s not too late y’know,” Fury states as he grabs the folder, tucking all the papers and photographs back into manila folder gently. “We’ve kept tabs on Grant over the years…he’s in a home Bucky,” Bucky looks up at the older man, gulping once again. “He’s losing his memory so I suggest that if you wanna meet your kid you better do it now,” 

   And that’s how Bucky ended up where he was right now, standing in front of a white haired nurse in some retirement home. 

   “I’m uh- I’m looking for a Grant Barnes?”  

   “Oh! He hasn’t had visitors in years…” 

   “Yeah uh- I’m a distant cousin, thought I’d come see him for a bit,” The nurse smiles, clutching a clipboard to her chest tightly. 

   “That’s so sweet, he’ll be glad to see you. He’s in room 303 by the way, just down the hall and to the left,’ Bucky gives the nurse a light smile and a polite thank you before he walks down the hall, stuffing his hands in his pockets. All around him the sounds of beeping machines and oxygen tanks filled the air, leaving his heart aching at the thought that his boy- his own damn child- was one of the poor sickly elders here. 

   Bucky’s feet stop abruptly in front of room 303, the door decorated brightly in pink and red hearts, each one stating something wonderful about Grant- about his son. With a shaky sigh Bucky knocked his knuckles on the door, waiting for a nurse or someone to let him in. 

   “Come in!” A sweet female voice called. Bucky gently opened the door, poking his head inside the hospital room. There were two people in the room, an elderly looking man who once looked as though he had been beautiful but age had slowly withered away that beauty and a young female, perhaps around the age of twenty, sitting directly across from the man. “Can I help you?” She asks, smiling at Bucky sweetly. 

   “Uh yeah- um, I’m here to see Grant Barnes?”

   “That’s me,” The old man smiles, gibing Bucky a small wave. “What can I do for you sonny?” God- his own child was calling him son and if that didn’t sting Bucky didn’t know what did. 

   “Um-” Bucky looks down at his hand sheepishly, biting his lip in thought. He hadn’t really thought of what he was going to say when he finally met his own flesh and blood, he thought he’d chicken out and leave before he ever even met his son but now he was here, standing right in front of him. “Was your father James Buchanan Barnes?” The elderly man loses his smile, his face taking on an ugly kind of glare. 

   “What do you want to know about my father?” Bucky sighs again, raking a hand down his face, one that looked almost like his own sons expect much, much younger. 

   “I have a little problem you see- I’m James Buchanan Barnes,” 

   Explaining his situation to his son had been hard, he was almost thrown out of the building until Bucky began to tell Grant things about his mother that no one except himself could know. From there it had been a bit choppy, his son was in shock, as was Bucky, but slowly they opened up to each other and now here they were- talking about (Y/N) as though it were the most normal thing in the world. 

   “You shoulda seen her,” Grant sighs, his eyes twinkling as he looks at the ceiling. “She was so beautiful, all my friends liked her,” Bucky chuckles, smiling so damn widely he was surprised his face didn’t bust in two. 

   “She was gorgeous,” 

  “And strong, so strong,” Grant whispers, breathing out heavily. “She got a job after you- after you died,” Grant hesitates to say the words, almost reluctant to admit that his own mother was dead. “She worked long and hard hours just to provide for me. We were poor but that never stopped her- we may have been low on money but you can bet your bottom dollar that she would find a way to make me and the neighbor kids desert,” 

   “She always was so generous,” 

   “She was the best mom anyone could ever ask for,” Grant smiles a little, a small, tender little thing that had Bucky wondering just exactly what Grant was thinking. 

   “I wish I could have been there-” Bucky sighs, his heart suddenly sinking. “I wish I could’ve seen your first steps, or heard your first words, I wish I could have seen you on your first date or watch you walk down the aisle-” 

   “That doesn’t matter now,” Grant smiles, reaching over to take Bucky’s metal hand in his own, withered one. “You’re here now and that’s all that matters to me…It’s nice to finally meet you Dad,” Bucky smiles, chuckling a bit even with the tears burning at his eyes. 

   “It’s nice to finally meet my son,”  

florabell  asked:

Omg I would love to read your take on the "I can hear you having mental breakdowns" AU because I can absolutely imagine Clarke being strung out with med school stress and Bell being a Mum and fretting over her

A|N: this got…. really, really long, so I’m just gonna apologize in advance and put it down as me being trash for neighbours!bellarke. Hope you like it!


It only occurs to him that he has a new neighbour when he wakes to the sound of a distinctly feminine voice cursing out someone.

And it’s not like Murphy was ever quiet or a remotely considerate neighbour or anything, but Bellamy’s pretty sure that he’s never woken him up at six in the morning with his yelling. Huffing, he shrugs on a shirt, shuffles over to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. He has to be up in an hour for work anyway, so there’s no point in trying to go back to sleep.

He does, however, start feeling a little concerned when the muffled swearing grows progressively louder instead of abating. Maybe his new neighbour is actually hurt or something, and the increasingly profane swear words are her way of expressing her distress. It’s plausible, right? The nice, neighbourly thing to do would be to check up on her. Or at the very least, maybe pound on the wall and tell her, in no certain terms, to shut the fuck up.

As tempting as the latter option is, he finds himself edging out of the door anyway, crossing the hallway to knock at her door cautiously.

The door jerks open at the second knock, and he he has to hide his surprise at the figure standing by the doorway. She’s a lot tinier than he expected her to be, dressed in stained scrubs with her hair piled up into a messy bun, stray strands drifting over her collarbone distractingly.

She arches a brow over at him, the tilt of her chin challenging. “Yes?”

“Uh, hi. I live over at 5C? Just next to you?” He gestures over at his ajar apartment door, resisting the urge to make a snide remark about how thin the walls are in the complex. “And you just— I don’t know what’s happening, but you’ve been yelling for the past hour or so? I just wanted to make sure you’re not being murdered, like, five feet away from me.”

Keep reading

entp gothic

-“wow, Ne doms are so random lol xD” your friend says, looking over your shoulder. You look up accusingly from the twelve page essay entitled “Why Plato’s Republic Will Save America If People Only Read It”, which you wrote in about two hours. “What’s random about this?” You ask, before realizing your entire academic life has conformed to stereotypes, including really asshole-ish footnotes in every paper constantly attacking the very sources you’ve used for all your work.

-You look down. Your socks definitely don’t match. They never match. Your low si makes you keep buying more socks but one always goes missing. You have two drawers of unmatched socks. People think you purposely mismatch socks to be random. But your socks are missing. They’ve been missing for years.

-you haven’t eaten in two days. You don’t even recall using the bathroom. It’s like your entire body is dedicated to forgetting your needs. You have, however, taken a bath and made several cups of coffee. You wonder why your inferior Si is so selective. You then pass out from lack of sleep. Oh yeah, you have been up for 50 hours.

-your judger friends always ask you how you do it. “Do what?” You ask, trying desperately not to make fun of their frantic eyes. “How do you pass your classes? I’ve never seen you do any work.” You smile. The best kept XNTP secret will remain a mystery to everyone. Even yourself.

-“why are you so mean?” Someone says. You don’t remember ever meeting this person, but apparently, your reputation precedes you. Someone else chimes in, “but you’ve paid for all my coffees this week? How are you mean?” because you are Ne dom, you can never decide on when to be nice and when to be an asshole, so it ends up looking random to everyone. “Haha…. I’m so… random… xD” you spit out, trying not to scream.

-you’ve switched sides six times in this debate. This will be the seventh. “Please stop doing this”, a group member says. You can’t decide if it’s a bothered feeler or an exasperated xstj. But you’re biased towards one side, so you have to vehemently argue for the opposite, since being unbiased is ideal. AN INTP next to you informs you that putting a deliberate effort into being unbiased is actually a bias in itself. You sit down. Your life is a lie.

- you come to hte conclusion hat you’re constantly misspelling thjgs, and uuu do it so often your iPhone has started autocrecvtting mospeed words to other miaowed words. You oftdn DJ t notice util it’s too late. The MESSgs has been sent, adn you can’t take it bCam. Oh yeah, what’s WITH the radom capitaized words?

Gemma Doesn’t Like You


“Are you nervous?” Harry asks, gripping onto Y/n’s hand as he starts his three-hour drive to his sister’s house.

In their now one year of dating, Y/n is finally meeting Harry’s sister. With their schedules being tied from Y/n’s university to Gemma’s new job and Harry’s recent solo work, there was barely any time for either of them to visit one another. But with Y/n convincing her bosses to get her off the schedule for a week, it’s finally time for Y/n to meet Gemma.

“I’m okay.” Y/n replies reluctantly. 

In all honesty, she’s scared shitless. Even though the rest of Harry’s family practically coos over Y/n, Y/n wasn’t raised in a high-income family. She shared a two bedroom apartment with her two parents and her two older brothers her entire life. Her only time out of the house was when she went off to school or work—never really having a social life because she neither had time nor money for it. 

Y/n being poor and moving in with Harry has been a focus for the media since they publically announced their relationship. They disclosed that Y/n is only paying off her debt and university tuition because of Harry’s wealth, and even talked about Y/n only moving in with Harry because she wouldn’t have to pay the rent that way.

And even though it is true that Harry pays rent and pays off her debt, it is nothing like it seems. There is an entirely different story underneath their publications that nobody understands besides Harry and Y/n—and that’s what scares her the most.

“Don’t worry, baby. She’ll love you. She can read whatever she wants, yeah? But all she needs to pay attention to is who you really are.”

Harry holds her hand tighter. He knows that Y/n is well aware that Gemma has tried to get Harry to break up with her for a while now. She thinks that Y/n is nothing but a gold digger—using the sympathy card to get every ounce of money out of him so that she can manage a living. Of course, that wasn’t the case, and Harry would be willing to spend the rest of his life disproving his sister. 

And he’s starting today.

“Who I am is not going to impress her, Harry. I have nothing set out for me. My future is a dead end. I’m useless.”

Harry’s eyes narrow in pain at her words, slowly letting his eyes leave the road so that he can look at her. He loves her so much more than he can explain, and knowing that the woman he loves so deeply feels so negatively about herself completely and utterly destroys him.

Y/n is so much more than she thinks. She has more determination and gratitude than anybody he’s ever met. She has so much strength and willpower to keep herself moving forward, and despite Harry seeming to have the most difficult job to others, he doesn’t have half of what she has to offer to this world.

“Hey, don’t say things like that. You know that’s not true.”

His eyes are glistening with tears and Y/n almost goes back on her word just for the sake of his own wellbeing. She knows how much putting herself down can affect him, but she truly believes in the words she spoke and won’t take back what she said because she knows it’s true.

“It’s the truth, Harry.”

He scrunches his face with squeezed-shut eyes, shaking his head wildly.

“That’s far from it. You’ve been busting your ass trying to finish school; I have never seen someone so determined to accomplish anything in my life. You inspire me every day—every single day. When I feel like giving up or thinking what I’m doing isn’t worth it, I think of your ability to overcome any of that. It doesn’t matter your money, Y/n, you’re the best person I’ve ever met. I’d do anything to be half the woman you are.”

And as much as Y/n appreciates his words—and no matter how much his words make her heart swell—she doesn’t want to carry on with this discussion. So she smirks, letting out a slight chuckle to lighten the mood. She leans over to press a gentle kiss on his cheek, rubbing her nose slightly against the skin.

“So you wanna be a woman, huh?”

Harry laughs, sneaking a look at her from the corner of his eye. She looks as beautiful as always, and no matter what ends up happening at Gemma’s house, he’ll be by her side no matter what it takes to get there.

His life would be meaningless without her with him. She’s defined all his greatest and most memorable moments, he’ll never let her go.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Harry sighs, “you’ll always have me.”

Pulling up into Gemma’s driveway gave Y/n enough fear to almost pass out on the walk to her front door. Everything she has felt about this day is building up so much inside of her that her body almost feels numb. 

Her heart is racing, her palms are sweating, and her breathing must have been harsh because Harry immediately notices how different her demeanor has become. 

He pulls her into him a bit more than before, pressing a chaste kiss to her temple and rubbing his hand along her waist.

“Stop stressing, darling” Harry whispers, “it’ll be fine.”

But she just knows it won’t be. This is a disaster waiting to happen and she feels the anxiety deep within her bones. If she didn’t love Harry so much, she wouldn’t hesitate to leave him on the door step, steal his car, and drive away from here. But it’s because she loves him so much that she’s willing to prove Gemma wrong.

She has to.

While taking the finals steps up to her door, Y/n has to grab onto Harry’s hand and arm with both of her hands in case she decides to run away. And just for the sake of her sanity, Harry gives her one last reassuring kiss before he opens the door to her home. 

“Gem! We’re here!”

Her house is everything Y/n expected it to be. Everything is open, everything all in one place—nothing to separate the rooms. The walls are bright and decorated with art work Y/n’s only ever seen on display at local museums. It all looks so expensive, there is nothing Y/n has ever seen like it. 

Gemma walks out from the kitchen, looking slightly uneasy, but smiling as she gives her brother a welcoming hug. Their greeting is short and Y/n admires how close they truly are. She never had siblings to grow any particular bond with, so watching Harry and Gemma soaking each other up and making up for lost time makes her heart jump.

But it’s not that long after where Gemma’s attention is on Y/n, a prominent scowl on her face and a glimmer of disrespect in her eyes.

“So, this is Y/N.”

Y/n feels Harry’s hold on her tighten.

She disregards the way she speaks, even if it sends a shiver down her spine. She’s going to do her best to get Gemma’s liking and approval, there is no way she can mess this up. This is her only shot.

“Hello, Gemma, it’s wonderful to meet you.” Y/n smiles, sticking her hand out to properly introduce herself. Gemma smiles slightly, looking down at Y/n’s hand.  

“Is there any reason my brother is paying your university tuition, Y/n?

The way she says her name burns Y/n’s insides; like her name is toxic on the tongue. She slowly puts her hand down, tucking it underneath her other arm as her free hand moves to push twist her hair. 

Fuck, Gemma really jumped right to it and now Y/n is unsure of what to say. She didn’t expect those types of questions to come so soon, and no matter how many times Y/n had prepared for this moment, her tongue is tied and she’s never felt more intimidated in her life.

“O—Oh, well—”

“Gemma!” Harry seethes, his eyes glaring at his sister in almost a threatening manner, “What the hell?”

Y/n swallows thickly. 

“N—No, Harry,” Y/n interjects, shaking her head slightly, “it’s fine. It’s just that my family isn’t financially stable. They obviously wanted me to get into the best university I could, so when I got accepted, I began to take out student loans. I was on work study and we were provided a good amount of financial aid but it wasn’t enough for us. I ended up owing a lot of money to the bank and—“

“So you had my brother use all the money he saved up from his career just to waste it all to pay for you?”

Y/n stands wide-eyed, clearly not expecting that harsh of an accusation. She knew accusations were going to come, but not so goddamn soon and not so rude. 

And she really wants to crawl out of her own skin. She feels sick—she feels filthy and she wants nothing more than to leave the hatred glaring from Gemma’s eyes. 

She feels the tears she’s been holding in hit the surface, and her chest is heaving and her throat is chocked from the thickness in the air. She really can’t be here right now—she really can’t keep listening to anything else Gemma decides to throw at her.

She’s embarrassed and insecure, two things Y/n can’t handle on her own and now she’s forced to face the situation that’s feeding her both.

“What the fuck?!” Harry shouts, “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!”

It took Y/n months before agreeing to let Harry pay her tuition. He had offered since the day he met her. She stressed herself out in ways he’d never seen—pushing herself to the brink of exhaustion and never giving herself a chance to properly take a breath. 

In the moments leading up to their relationship, he felt his career wasn’t even half of what she put herself through at the time. He had all the money for everything she wanted—he was willing to give every penny he had to her, drop everything he’s worked for and give it all to her. He didn’t need it anymore. He had spent his entire life building his future and by the time it was over, he had so much money that he didn’t even know what to do with. 

He found his girl—he found the one he was going to marry. He had a house—a beautiful house—one he could still pay off because he’s still being paid for being in the media. He lived his dream, there was no reason to keep the money he made.

He had everything.

And after what felt like years of Harry begging Y/n—to the point where he even went on his knees—to help her get through her financial crisis, she couldn’t say no. Not to that amount of desperation, not when he was in tears watching her suffer so much.

“That’s bullshit!” Gemma spits.

She takes a threatening step towards Y/n, and in any other circumstance, Y/n would run away without hesitation. But she can’t move.

She lets out a sob when Gemma gets in her face, not daring to touch her but still close enough to make Y/n understand how much she’s made her angry—enough to let her know how serious this all is.

“What are the chances a girl like you gets it on with my brother?! Huh? What are the fucking chances of that?!“ 

"That is fucking enough!” Harry booms, pushing his hand out to push Gemma away from Y/n. 

He swears, he could fucking break her wrists in half. Gemma was the last person he expected to judge Y/n on her economic class. He actually thought they’d get on extremely well. He never expected to be holding Gemma back from punching a very fearful, shaken up Y/n.

And he wishes more than anything that he can be comforting her right now, but he’s not going to risk letting Gemma out of his grasp.

Y/n steps back, taking in a harsh breath as the wind is knocked right out of her. She genuinely feels like someone punched her in the throat, which probably would have happened if Harry wasn’t holding Gemma back as hard as he is. 

She feels the tears that were building up in her eyes slowly start to fall, her barrier completely breaking down. It wasn’t supposed to be this way, nothing was. She’s not supposed to make Harry’s family hate her. She wanted to become apart of it, grow old and pass down more generations of it. 

It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.

In the mix of her emotions, Y/n puts on the fakest fucking smile she’s ever put on. Of course,  it’s not on there for long. She looks down the second it disappears, falling just as quickly as it formed. If she continues to fight for herself, there would be no room for any hope she wishes to carry that Gemma will somehow see her differently. 

“You don’t have to worry about this anymore, Gemma.” She cries, little pathetic sobs finding their way from her throat, “Me and Harry are going to go now, and neither of you will ever have to see me again.”

When the words fall from Y/n’s mouth, Harry’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach. She can’t be serious—she can’t mean what she’s saying.

How could Harry live without seeing her? He’d never be able to forgive himself for letting it get far enough to where Y/n is going to leave him and never think of coming back. No, the thought of that just can’t be possible.

“No.” He whimpers, watching her as she turns away from them, “Baby, please don’t.” 

His hands loosen around Gemma’s wrists in defeat. His whole body is paled and his eyes are brimmed with tears and refusing to blink. 

He just lost everything.

“I never want her back in this goddamn house, Harry, I swear—”

“Do you realize what you just did to me?” He chokes out a sob, his hand reaching to the overwhelming pain in his chest. “You just ruined me, Gemma. I—I’m—She was everything to me, you don’t understand.”

And he really can’t find it within him to stay long enough to listen to what she has to say. She just ruined his life—his life is completely ruined and he’s never felt so utterly lost in his entire life.

He walks out of Gemma’s door without looking back, not daring to do anything but speed up his pace when he sees Y/n sobbing against the car door, her body shaking and eyes soaked with tears.

Nothing is making sense, everything he thought he knew is falling apart. The life he’s built himself is crumbling beneath him, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

When Y/n is only a few feet away from him, he grabs onto her wrists so tight and rams her into his chest. His movements are nothing short of desperate and he needs her to know how much he needs her, now more than ever.

He needs her to know that he physically can’t live without seeing her again. She means more to him than anything he’s ever had and he refuses to let her walk away from what they have. He won’t let it happen.

He won’t.

He grabs her face so that he can look at her, and the pain in her eyes makes him want to rip his heart out of his own chest. She can’t look at everything she’s ever loved and know she has to walk away from it. 

“You didn’t mean that, Y/n. You are not fucking leaving me, there is no way in hell I’m letting that happen.”

His hands are running feverishly down her hair, his eyes practically pleading for her to just come back to him. 

But he needs to understand.


“Not over my fucking sister, Y/n. Please, you can’t do that to me. You can’t.”

She squeezes her eyes shut—the only way she can think rationally because she can’t think properly when she looks at him. It hurts too much.

 How in the world is she going to do this? It’s either she stays with Harry and he loses the person who means most to him, or she leaves Harry and lives the rest of her life alone because she can’t find love in anybody else.

She almost considers staying with him. Almost. But there is no way she can stay together with him and live her entire life being hated by somebody who means more to Harry than she does. She just can’t.

“She’s right, Harry. This whole thing—all of this is a mistake. We’re too different, this isn’t right.” She sobs.

She really doesn’t mean it, but she does believe that there is some truth behind her words. They should have known this was never going to work out, no matter how much they do love each other. 

Love can’t always win.

“No!” Harry barks, pressing his forehead so hard onto hers he wouldn’t be shocked if he broke his skull from it. “You don’t dare say that shit to me. You don’t say that to me.”

Y/n shakes her head, pushing him off of her as hard as she could. It breaks her heart to not feel him pressed up against her, but she needs to do this for both of their sake.

“That’s your sister, the way she spoke to me.”

“I don’t care. I’ll never let her in again, she won’t have any fucking sense in this, baby. Nothing will get in our way.”

But she just can’t.

“I’m so sorry, Harry.”

Harry swears he feels his heart ripping in half at her words. His body feels completely detached, like every bone is breaking and all he has left to do is fall in front of her. He holds onto her legs like it’s his last hope. His sobs draining out everything in his head and all he can fucking feel is the mix of his heart being taken right out of his chest and her hands running softly through his hair.

“Please, Y/n.” Is the only thing is brain can muster: Please, please, please. Any source of desperation to keep her with him, that’s the only thing his brain can register.

He grips onto her legs tighter, his forehead pressed against her knees. He feels her tug at his hair, hears her cry and curse under her breath. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen.


She sighs, one last cry ripping from her.

“I can’t.”

anonymous asked:

SasuSaku 40, pretty please :)

40) exes meeting again after not speaking for years, 

for anon bb

ino’s wedding is as beautiful, and extravagant, and infuriating as sakura had always imagined it. she looks stunning, all in white with little accents of lilac, her silver blond hair trailing after her. sai is as handsome as ever, a true smile on his face. sakura almost regrets ever having introduced them, it’s so fucking perfect. at least there’s an open bar.

she’s on her third gin and tonic by the time she starts sifting through tinder in search of a distraction. med school isn’t an ideal time for someone as wary as she is of the male specimen to be in search of a mate; days are eat, sleep, repeat. not to mention every man in her clinicals seems to be under the impression he’s the future of cancer research. but these hypothetical men, right at her fingertips, there’s something empowering (amusing) about it. she inspects one prospect intently, swishing her drink in circles.

“tch, try again.”

the sound of his voice is so clear even against the clamor of music and laughter in the room. she smiles at him, against her better judgment, “like you’d know a good guy if you saw one.” he comes to sit at the stool just beside hers, a permanent look of disinterest etched into his pristine face. he was as beautiful as she remembered, just less annoyed. “what are you doing here?” she remarks, unable to shake the look of pure humor from her smirk.

he orders a glass of water with lemon, before glancing at her, “you got fat.”

“no i didn’t,” she retorts, unbothered. this is a game she can play.

he snorts, taking a sip from his glass, “no, you didn’t.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

When can we get more Renewed?

The light blinded Claire as Murtagh pushed the door open, the sunshine streaming through the gap as she took her first steps towards the church, her heart thudding in her chest.

“Are ye truly ready, Claire?” Murtagh muttered as the pair stepped forwards.

Claire’s eyes saw the back of him before he’d even turned, and her breath caught in her throat.

“Uncle Lamb?” She whispered, almost in disbelief, “is that you?”

The greying older man turned, a wistful smile alight on his face as he took in his niece, his arms open as Claire bolted from Murtagh’s side and thrust herself against his chest.

“I never even –I didn’t *think*…” she sobbed, her face buried into the hollow of her wayward uncle’s neck as she tried to vocalise her thoughts.

“I came as soon as I heard, Claire,” Lamb began, a hint of apology in his tone, “I’m only sorry I wasn’t here for you during, you know, the turbulence with Franklin.”

Coughing, Murtagh raised his bushy brows in the direction of the church doors, “I’m sorry, Claire, but I think he’ll be waiting for ye…”

Twisting Claire around, Lamb reached out his hand to take Murtagh’s, a large grin lighting his face. “Ah, Mr Fraser, it’s so good to finally meet you!”

“Ye too, Mr Beauchamp. But now, I think puir Jamie might want to see us enter,” winking in Claire’s direction, Murtagh nudged the reunited Beauchamp’s towards the entrance, “we dinna want him to think we’ve escaped.”

Claire couldn’t keep the smile from her face as Quentin slid his arm through hers and led her to the end of the aisle. The congregation was minimal, just a few of Jamie’s and Claire’s workmates (including Glenna) but the moment she stepped foot inside the building Claire had her eyes set on one person, and one alone.

Jamie stood side on, with Murtagh freshly to his right, looking more dapper than she’d ever seen him. Trussed up with a brand new kilt with his hair slicked back, he looked so handsome that she could hardly believe he was hers.

“He’s a lucky man, Claire, my darling,” Lamb whispered in her ear upon seeing her gaze soften.

Passing her over, Lamb made sure to bow formally to Jamie, a coy glint in his eyes as he did so.

Hearing the message loud and clear, Jamie bowed back, placing his hand over Claire’s as he did so.

‘Look after her,’ it said, ‘look after her and never let her go.’


The ceremony itself went off without a hitch. Soon, Claire and Jamie had exchanged vows, an excited lilt to their combined ‘I do’s’ and the newlyweds were on their way –in a horse-drawn carriage no less– to the reception.

Murtagh and Glenna had stayed up most of the night decorating the tiny hall that Jamie had procured for the occasion. Fiddling with the last of the placemats, Glenna added Lambert Beauchamp’s nametag to the small head table, a rather large grin on her face as she did so.

“Yer doing a braw job there, Glenna,” Murtagh praised, wrapping his arm around her shoulder as he kissed her forehead, “how on earth did ye find the man, ye wee genius?”

“Ach!” Glenna returned, shaking her head at her friend, “it was nothing, truly. I just made some enquiries and there he was all of a sudden, listed in one o’ those journal things, Quentin Lambert Beauchamp,” elbowing Murtagh softly she clicked her tongue at him in satisfaction, “which is why ye and Jamie couldn’t find the lad. He isna simply listed as ‘Lambert’.”

“I told ye, Mrs Fitz,” he replied, using the name the bairns gave to her, “a wee miracle worker!”

“…and don’t I ken it weel,” she joked, her hands running over the cream tablecloth, smoothing out the remaining ruffles, “what would you all do wi’out me, eh?”


Outside the hall, Jamie stood watching as Claire twirled *his* wedding ring around her middle finger, a tiny red mark appearing as she pushed it against her skin.

“Ye look so bonnie today, Claire *Fraser*,” he cooed, his eyes tearing a little at the memory of their wee ceremony.

“You don’t look half bad yourself, Jamie Fraser.”

Her smile was radiant as he plucked her from the carriage and placed her down on the tarmac drive leading into the hall. Balloons decorated the outsides, their names plastered in big, bold letters on the biggest banner Claire had ever seen.

“How on earth did they pull all this off without me knowing?” Claire sighed, her voice full of awe and wonder. “*And* to have my uncle here! I’m…well,” she stammered, her cheeks burning red with happiness, “speechless.”

“Weel,” Jamie whispered, nipping at her ear as he wrapped his arms around her waist, “I think it might have had something to do wi’ me, aye?”

“You think a lot of yourself, don’t you…” Claire returned, a light jest to her words as she swayed to and fro in the evening air, her eyes closed and her head leaning back against Jamie’s shoulder as she enjoyed the peace.

Standing in her wedding gown, Claire couldn’t help but relive those early moments over and over again in her head.

All of those nights, frequenting that same coffee bar with no knowledge of Jamie’s investment in her presence. So many cups she’d drained with a heavy heart, paying no mind to the stranger who would eventually pluck up the courage to make the first move, the move that had brought them here.

Realising the motions she’d set in place with the removal of her wedding ring that fateful night, Claire reached a shaky hand towards her face and wiped a stray tear from her eye.

“What’s wrong, mo nighean?” Jamie crooned, his voice low and sweet.

“I just realised how much I owe you, James Fraser.” She whispered in reply, her lips quivering as she spoke, her throat dry as she tried not to ruin her precise make-up with yet more tears.

“Ye are a daft one, sassenach,” Jamie continued, his arms gripping her tighter now as he began to walk her closer to the reception hall. “Do you not know? It is I who owes you, Claire Fraser.”

Smiling, Claire twisted herself, turning to face Jamie.

His eyes were the most vibrant blue, the sunlight catching them, causing the faintest glimmer of yellow and green to merge in the middle where iris met pupil. He was stunning.

Jamie blinked slowly, allowing Claire her calming moment as he tilted his head to the left, cementing this moment in his brain as accurately as he could. She had fallen into his life a mess of curls and warm words. A broken lass just desperately in need of something on he could provide for her. And she, in return, had blessed him with the type of companionship and love that was present only within her.

“Should we…?” Claire broached, tipping her head towards the door in an almost silent gesture that suddenly pulled Jamie from his thoughts.

Remembering where they were –finally, both Jamie and Claire took one deep breath and readied themselves for the welcome that would await them inside.

“Aye, my bride,” he replied, squeezing her hands gently, “I think we should make an appearance.”

Slamming the hotel door behind them, Jamie had Claire at his mercy in seconds, his lips fused to hers as he held her hands over her head and kissed her into submission.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long, Mrs Fraser,” he gasped, pulling away for only a minute as she pulled herself forward, aching to have his mouth on hers, not caring too much about what he was saying.

“Me too…” she returned, her fingers twitching against the painted wood. “So don’t make me wait, Mr Fraser.”

The party had gone on into the wee hours. The DJ had played the setlist as instructed and the guests had all danced the night away, their hearts full of love and their bellies full from the buffet.

In those few short hours, Murtagh and Lamb had become fast friends.

Claire smiled as Jamie’s lips bruised hers, a punishing kiss that had her straining…and wanting. But those few glimpses of their wedding party crept through the building lust, making her chest tight with gratitude.

“Come back to me, Claire,” Jamie begged, sensing her lapses in attention as he rocked his body softly against hers.

Fluttering her eyes open, Claire panted as she filled her lungs with air once more, her mind solidly on Jamie now. Her heart raced as she saw how enamoured he was, his gaze dark as he rested his forehead against hers, taking the chance to breath himself.

Suddenly the prospect of seeing Jamie fully naked hit her and she gulped in a large breath of air.

Jamie smirked, watching intently as her pupils dilated and her hips swayed slowly closer to his. No matter the temptation they’d been accosted by, both Jamie and Claire had decided to wait until this night before actually *sleeping* together, choosing instead only to indulge in –heavy petting–.

Pulling herself back into the present, Claire’s mind, overwhelmed by the myriad of images currently pummeling her, chose to focus in on her last sexual encounter. Immediately her cheeks flooded, the redness spreading down her neck as she tried to force the memory away.

“Not here.” She whispered, the subtle twinges of careless embarrassment gaining purchase, uninvited and unbidden.

“Ye didna think…” Jamie returned, his brows creasing as he noted her sudden change. Biting his lip, he refrained from making comment on the blush that had taken root across her face.

“Claire, I said come back to me…no’ reappear briefly and then go away again,” he joked, thinking the unthinkable name, his smile coaxing Claire forward, away from the door and towards the bed. “I love ye, Claire, mo nighean donn,” he murmured, holding his hand out to her and bringing her slowly onto his lap, “yer my wife, we have one another…we will always have one another.”

Leaning her forehead against his, Claire expelled all of the stale air from her lungs.

Jamie. His clear blue eyes bore into hers as she pulled at the buttons along the side of her dress. The shoulder of her dress slid along her smooth skin, revealing the long line of her neck as she shimmied out of the delicate fabric.

Jamie held his breath as the silk fell, watching and waiting as her pale cream bra became exposed.

“Beautiful,” he sighed, his eyes flickering from her face to her chest as he slipped his fingers along the soft planes of the sides of her and up along the ridges of her spine. Clasping the latch of her bra, he pulled together his thumb and finger, freeing the metal that held her breasts captive…freeing her of so much more than simply cotton, lace and metal.

“You’re biased,” she retorted, a hint of humour in her voice as she bounced gently, her knees digging further into the mattress. The inside of her thighs shifted the course material of his kilt as she pulled herself free of the restraint.

“Biased I may be,” Jamie replied, his head falling forward, taking advantage of Claire’s new position, “but, sassenach…I amne wrong, aye?”

HIs tone was low, the deep baritone of his voice rumbling through her from head to toe as he spoke quietly but clearly.

Opening his mouth at the opportune moment, Jamie slipped his tongue along the ripples of her pert flesh, taking her nipple into his mouth as he listened to the faint mewling sound that fell from her lips at the sustained contact.

Scrunching her eyes closed, Claire let her head loll backwards, her hair falling in waves over Jamie’s hands where they lay clasped behind her back – holding her chest against his lips.

“You still have far too many clothes on…” she moaned, licking her dry lips as her shaky fingers ran along the length of the collar of his dress shirt, “I want you, Jamie, I really want you…naked and beneath me.”

Clutching his fists together, Jamie exhaled a jagged breath before flipping Claire onto her back and hovering over her prostrate form.

Running his fingers along the front of his shirt, he toyed with the buttons, teasing as Claire watched through hooded lids. Her hair had fanned out naturally above her head during the move and her curls lay tangled across the hotel pillows, silver and brown combined, glinting delicately in the pale evening light as it filtered in through the curtains, the wind keeping them eerily afloat.

“Sae beautiful ye are, Claire.” Jamie crooned as he stripped, throwing his shirt and kilt into a pile with her wedding dress.

Smirking, Claire reached up. Dragging her finger along his chest she tried her best to keep her eyes level with his, but the sprinkling of hair that dusted the lower half of his tummy called to her. She’d felt him, they’d been close…but seeing him was another matter.

Taking her hand, Jamie massaged her palm delicately as if to encourage her. Seeing the want in her eyes as she blinked slowly, he urged her on with a nod.

One glance was all it took, one short longing look downwards, and Claire was lunging forward, her hands coming up to grip Jamie’s bare arse as she forced him forwards.

Latching his mouth onto hers, Jamie caught himself just in time, his hands pushing deep into the soft pillows as his hips fell naturally between hers.

She really felt him then, the hard length of him nestled against her as he kissed her into oblivion. Feeling like she had her first time, Claire clenched her toes and wrapped her trembling thighs around his waist, anchoring him to her.

“I’m so grateful,” she gasped, angling her hips in preparation, eager to consummate their marriage as soon as possible.  “That I found you, Jamie.”

“Same,” Jamie returned, his kiss stained lips breaking from her neck for just a moment, “Claire.”

Matching her movements, Jamie twisted himself a little to the side. His heart pounded out a maddening rhythm against his chest, the feel of it reverberating through every inch of him as if he were a livewire, sparking as it hit water and flaring before slapping against the cold, wet concrete.

He felt alive.

“You’re shaking,” she whispered, feeling his damp skin against her own, “are you scared, love?”

“No…yes,” Jamie sighed and laughed lightly, “I might be a wee bit scarit…o’ disappointing ye.”

“That won’t happen,” Claire soothed, urging him forward, her thighs pulling him closer and closer. “You could never *do* that.”

Gasping, both Claire and Jamie squeezed their eyes closed as Jamie thrust himself inside her, the feeling of it causing his hands to grip the pillows painfully as he arched his back, the droplets of sweat dribbling along each ridge of his spine.

“A-ah…” he half-whispered, half-moaned into Claire’s mouth as she lifted her shoulders from the mattress, eager to have his lips against hers.

Using her tongue, Claire drew intimate patterns against Jamie’s lower lip as he moved ever so slowly against her, the fine hairs on the base of her belly catching his thicker ones as they moved together. She could feel the muscles of his stomach tighten as he lowered himself against her, the plateau of his usually sculpted abdominals even more defined now as he hovered over her.

The intense pulsating feeling between her legs grew as Jamie inched his legs further apart, lowering himself so that he could push himself directly against her and then hold himself still for a moment, his eyes half open as he gasped and took her in. She could feel his gaze over every fibre of her, as if her body knew he was memorising every goosebump-covered particle of her flesh.

Smiling, she raised a shaky hand up to cup his perspiration coated jaw. Her eyes, glazed and half closed, glinted in the dim light of the room as she tightened her legs around his hips and ground herself against him.

Wordlessly, Jamie shuddered, almost launching forwards on his knees as he flopped his head backwards. His mouth fell open, but no actual sound fell from him

Claire could tell from his short, sharp movements and the position of his tense shoulders that he was close. Leaning herself backwards, she gently began to roll her hips, her soft motion causing the most delightful friction to begin to build between the two of them.

Understanding the silent messages of her body, Jamie steeled himself, forcing the almost instant need for gratification to the back of his mind as he mimicked her movements.

A sea of calm covered them both, lying cautiously over the thin sheen of sweat that covered them head to toe as the world suddenly stilled around them, almost as if time had come to a complete stand-still.

“You don’t have to…” Claire mumbled, his tone breathy and light,

“I do,” Jamie returned, answering her unspoken remark. Gripping the pillow, his fingers turning white where they delved deeper into the plush pillows at her head. Locking eyes, he nodded as she did as they felt, simultaneously, flashes of uncontainable carnality rush through them both.

Blinking, Claire felt her cheeks flood with heat as her heart picked up pace, her ribs vibrating with the pressure of it. She was almost certain that Jamie could hear the pounding beat as he lowered his forehead to hers and slid his hands across the slick fabric of the comforter to link with hers as the pressure built within them.

Boiling over, Jamie tensed and moaned, jerking himself against Claire until he could barely hold himself over her. Shaking, Claire waited, inhaling jagged breaths as his hips began to slow, resting just where she needed them to and pushing her over the edge as she cried out and slumped back against the aired sheets.

Rolling himself to the side, Jamie wrapped his arms around Claire, a small smile tugging at his lips as he shifted them both below the sheets, tangling his feet with her as she slowly but surely joined him in their love-drunk haze.

“I want to wash you,” Claire whispered, her hands roaming once more over his humid skin, her eyes barely open as she nuzzled against him.

“Aye?” Jamie replied, licking his lips as he shifted his weight, the idea sending a shot of pleasure through him.

“Yes…” she mumbled, “right after we nap…”

“Alright, sassenach,” he sighed, watching as she began to doze in his arms, “first sleep, then bath.”

Lying in the bath, the water swished gently around them as Jamie slowly washed Claire, his hands roaming across her submerged belly.

Leaning forward, Claire leaned her arms onto her elbows, letting him run the sponge over her back, washing the sweet perfume from her skin. Out of nowhere, two cold droplets ran down her spine causing her to sit up a little straighter. Ignoring it, Claire wrote it off as her imagination.

Jamie’s hands seemed to moved slower as more cold drips hit Claire’s warm flesh. Holding herself still, Claire took an internal breath, keeping her ribcage steady as she breathed through her nose and out again.

“Jamie,” she whispered, her lips shaking as she massaged the back of his hand with her own. Feeling his muscles clench beneath her palm, Claire twisted her head a little to glance at him out of the corner of her eye.

Swallowing, she saw a stray tear roll down his cheek as he dipped his head closer to the top of her exposed shoulders.

“I love ye, Claire,” he sighed, his heated breath fanning over her, ruffling the damp locks of her hair.

Slowly, turning her hips as carefully as she was able, Claire moved to face him, her legs sitting either sit of his in the tub.

Silently she reached her hand out and laid her palm against his wet cheek, the warmth of it seeping through her already heated skin.

His face was red, a bright crimson that wasn’t solely indicative of the hot water surrounding them.

Claire’s eyes softened as she took in her husband.

Husband. The word sent a jolt of pleasure through her as she bent forward to kiss away Jamie’s tears. Salt coated her mouth as she sighed softly against him, her heart thudding dully in her chest.

“I’m here Jamie,” she soothed, her fingers brushed lightly against the thin smattering of hair that had grown along the bottom of his jaw throughout the day. The tense set of his shoulders relaxed as she spoke, her touch causing his fears to dissipate. “I love you too.”

For a moment they say quietly, the water cooling around them as Claire held Jamie close. He desperately wanted to talk to her, to tell her how much her commitment to him meant but the words simply wouldn’t come. His ‘I love you’ was all he could vocalise for the moment.

Thoughts of his sister swirled around him in the damp mist of the hotel bathroom as his imagination brought her back to life. Apart from Murtaghs’ companionship, he had been alone for such a long time that now that a small part of him harboured such a deep-seated fear of loss. In the space of a few months all of his family and been taken from him, and now, since he’d been afforded a second chance, there was a tiny voice that suddenly lived inside of him –mumbling a number of incredulous ideas. He knew they were unlikely to occur, he’d been tested for the cancer gene that had been present in Ian. But since Ian wasn’t in anyway a direct relative, both Jenny and himself had been cleared.

The sound of distant humming brought him from his morose thoughts and Jamie suddenly became aware of himself. He was sobbing, the force of his shuddering rocking the water in the bath so that some of it splashed over the edges and onto the tile floor.

“Hush now,” Claire sing-songed, breaking from her tune to calm him as much as she was able. “How about we go to bed?”

Running her fingers through the greying hair at his temple, Claire wiped the moisture away, once more, from his eyes, kissing him softly as she rose from the bath and offered him her hand.

“Let me care for you, Jamie,” she broached, trying to coax him back to her, “for once, let me look after you, yes?”

“Aye.” He returned, a distinct crack of emotion in his voice, “take me to bed, Claire.”

Pulling back the sheets, Claire led Jamie towards their marital bed, ignoring the faint drip-drop of the bath water as it slid from both of their skin as they padded across the plush carpet to the large king sized bed.

Tilting her head to the side, Claire indicated to Jamie to get in. He obeyed, curling himself under the duck-down duvet, the softness of the sheets allowing him to slide in with ease. Following suit, Claire folded herself around Jamie, twinning her legs with his and wrapping her arms around his waist as they settled themselves.

It was warm under the covers, almost too warm, but Jamie didn’t mind. Guided as he was by the position of Claire’s body, he didn’t much mind the heat as it set him alight.

Leaning her forehead against his, she quietly moulded her lips to his, kissing him softly as she turned out the bedside lamp. In the background, a gurgling filled the large master suite, the plug spitting back out the water it couldn’t feasibly drain.

Jamie laughed, the sound of the emptying bath disturbing the peace of the moment.

Claire smiled as she watched him, the years just dropping from his face as he finally shed the last of the tension he’d been holding in.

“Welcome home, love.” She cooed, nuzzling his nose with hers and pecking him slowly on the lips. His blue eyes shone in the dark of the room, the moonlight flooding the room as the pair drank in the sight of the other, reinvigorated from their busy day.

A spark of light glimmered behind Claire’s eyes as she ran the flat of her hand along the expanse of Jamie’s back, feeling every wee bump along the length of his spine as she slowly investigated every inch of his bare skin.

Jamie held his breath as she explored. Hair grew more prevalently now, thicker on his chest and thighs than it had done in his twenties and thirties. He liked it. He’d always felt a little scrawny in his youth, his shoulders not quite wide enough. But now, as he’d entered his forties, he’d filled out. The build up of muscle finally cementing itself over his ample chest. True, he’d put a little weight on his tummy, but if anything it just matched the rest of him.

Claire too was changed. Her hips were probably wider, her breasts a little fuller. Jamie glanced downwards, taking a wee keek at her as she looked back up at him, her lids half closed, her amorous gaze falling solely on him.

“You are sae beautiful, mo nighean donn,” he purred, his voice soft as the finest velvet, “the way the silver glows in yer hair wi’ the white light of the moon, takes my breath away.”

Claire blushed, his complement causing the blood to rise to the surface.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she returned, her hips meeting his under the covers as she cuddled up against him, skin to skin.

Jamie buried his nose in her wayward curls, inhaling the scent of the remains of her perfume as the slid together beneath the covers, the thick blanket shielding them from the world.

Together they fell asleep, Jamie’s faith in their union burning brighter than ever before as Claire rocked him gently. He couldn’t love her again just yet, their lust filled entrance to the bridal suite still glowing just under the surface of them both as their breathing evened becoming shallow in sleep.

“Dream of me, Jamie,” Claire sighed, her hushed whisper echoing around the room as she snuggled closer, “because I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

Safe in the arms of the other, Jamie and Claire drifted steadily out of consciousness. On the bedside table, the ink of their recently signed marriage license dried slowly, its dark fluid staining the parchment and sealing their combined names; eternally tattooed onto the sturdy paper. A solid reminder of the vows they’d taken, of the future they’d secured for one another. More stable than the one Claire had signed before, Jamie was unconsciously convinced of its validity. His belief in fate –renewed.

Imagine running into Chris on a hike. You haven’t seen each other in years - you went to elementary school together and haven’t seen each other since. The two of you spend some time catching up when he tells you he has a confession to make. You were the first girl he ever had a crush on, and since it was so long ago, he thought he’d never see you again. He insists on having you over for dinner to get to know each other again, and perhaps rekindle an old flame.

office hours.

Professor!Spencer. You were a good student. And good students don’t have crushes on their professors and do not go home after class and think about doing unspeakable things with them.

the long awaited prequel to what I go to school for. y’all can thank @wheresthewater​ because I would have never written more Professor!Reid fics without Cori !!!

Originally posted by spencereid

When you decided to take Criminological Theory, you did so under the impression that it would be a breeze. After all, the material seemed easy enough and you’ve heard raving reviews about how easy Professor Hansen’s syllabus was. It didn’t help that he was also held in very high regards in the field and a glowing recommendation from him would take you place.

This was probably going to be of your favorite classes of the semester.

What you hadn’t expected was for him to take a sudden sabbatical, leaving you professor-less until an unknown just-graduated Professor Reid (who, despite your best efforts, absolutely cannot be found anywhere online except for a lengthy list of his credentials from MIT and CalTech) filled his spot at the last minute. The actual last minute, as in through email five minutes before you walked through the doors of the lecture hall.

Inwardly groaning, you chose a seat somewhere in the middle of the lecture hall for anonymity. The last thing you needed was an excited first-time professor calling on you to participate on the first day of class, after all. Your dreams of sailing through the semester and kissing up to a professor for that coveted recommendation had been dashed and now all you expected was to be bored out of your mind. That is, of course, until the new, absolutely gorgeous, professor walked in with his hair disheveled from the autumn wind and his tie, navy to match the cardigan he wore, crooked and a cup of coffee clutched in his hand like it was his lifeline.

Needless to say, you were suddenly determined to actually enjoy yourself.

“Good morning everyone,” he began, turning to the board to write some information down. “My name is Dr. Spencer Reid and welcome to Criminological Theory, CCJ 4014. I will be temporarily replacing Professor Hansen for the first half of this semester as he completes his sabbatical.”

You could spend hours listening to his voice, you decided.

Keep reading

A special note ♡ Grayson

Summary: You leave a special note on the last page of your favourite book which Grayson happens to find. He messages you and you decide to meet somewhere to talk about the book. You may or may not fall in love with this boy…

Word count: 2.011


Lately one of the places you were visiting the most was the local library. Ever since you were little you loved reading and since it was summer break you had a lot of time on your hands. This excited your love for books again which resulted in at least reading three books a week.

Most of your afternoons you were spending in your garden: reading and listening to music. It was a nice way to relax and forget about all the problems in the world.

Last week you had finished the most amazing book you had ever read and it was without a doubt one of your favourites. The style of the writer was marvelous and the way he described the places and characters… It hadn’t left your mind since you turned the last page and had put the book down.

For some reason you got this crazy idea to put a note between the last pages of the book for the next reader to find. It said: “Hi, my name is Y/N. I just finished this amazing book and I hope you enjoyed it as well. If you liked it just as much as I did and would like to talk about it, here is my number: (…)

You didn’t know if this was the best way to talk about the book, but you weren’t interested in joining a bookclub so you thought this was the only way. The urge to talk about this wonderful book was so big and since neither of your friends liked reading it that much it wasn’t the weirdest idea, right?


It was November now and a few months had passed by since you had left the short note in the book. To be honest you had totally forgotten about it. After that specific book you had read so many others which were also pretty good.

Besides, since school had began again homework and exams were really time consuming, so there wasn’t really time for reading as much as you used to do.
Today was an ordinary day so far and you were locked in your bedroom; your desk filled with books.

As you were highlighting important things you needed to know for a big test next week, your phone lights up. At first you don’t pay really pay attention, but when a second one pops up and you don’t recognise the number, you couldn’t ignore your curiousness.

Unknown: Hey!
Unknown: I just finished the book in which you left a note :) and I thought why not send a message lol
You: Hi there :) to be honest I completely forgot about it haha… But this is a nice surprise! What did you think of it?

You shove your books to the side and go sit down on your bed, your hands holding your now buzzing phone. After an hour of sending messages back and forth you discover a lot of things about the person you were talking to.

You figure out you were talking to a 17 year old boy called Grayson Dolan. You get to know how he’s doing, what he loved about the book and that he had a twin brother called Ethan.

Suddenly you realise you had a smile from ear to ear on your face. You were starting to form a little crush for this guy and you just met him! But how? You had never seen him or even talked to him in real life. You didn’t even had a clue what he looked like. He could be an old 60 year bald man for all you know!

Grayson: Would you like to grab some coffee some time? I think I have a few books you would really enjoy :)

Your fingers hesitated above your phone screen. How did you know he wasn’t some creepy guy, trying to kidnap a girl or something? But still… For some weird reason you just knew that he wasn’t a creepy guy.

The way he responded to your messages and the way he described things… You couldn’t wrap your head around it, but you just knew. Besides, he wanted to meet you at a café. That was very public, right? What could go wrong?
You: Yeah, sure :) Where would you like to meet?


You had never in your life been so nervous for a date. Was it even a date? Probably not. So why had you dressed yourself up so much? You had at least spend an hour just on your make up this morning for a guy who problaby just saw you as a friend and nothing more. But oh well; Grayson didn’t know that.

With cold and shaky hands you push against door ope  and walk into the small café. It was pretty crowded but the atmosphere made you feel warm and cosy right away. Your eyes scan the tables, but you had no idea what Grayson looked like.

Suddenly you see the prettiest boy in the world wave at you with a small smile, trying to get your attention. You almost triple over your feet as you stumble your way between the people, making your way towards him.

‘Hi… I’m Y/N,’ you say. ‘Hey, Y/N! I’m Grayson.’ Grayson greets you. He looks genuinely very happy to see you. He gets up from his chair and comes standing in front of you. He towers over you and you almost had to lay your head in your neck to look at his beautiful face. And his arms! They were so big you thought he could lift you up using only one hand.

Grayson spontaneously plants a quick kiss on your cheek and you immediately feel your cheeks warm up. ‘Oh, uh,’ you say a bit embarrassed. ‘Oh I’m sorry. I didn’t know if it was appropriate but I just - thought that,’ Grayson stutters, realizing he had made you a bit uncomfortable. You giggle. 'No, it’s fine! Please don’t worry about it.’ Of course it was fine. Speaking of fine: he was fine as hell.

As you two sat down you couldn’t stop staring at his face. It was angelic. He had the sharpest jawline you had ever witnessed and his plump lips turned into a gorgeous smile when you told him you were actually pretty nervous before you came here. His skin was tinted and smooth and you wondered how soft it would feel.

But the thing that you adored most about him was his personality. He was funny and sweet and so nice to talk with: He really listened and never interrupted you, and cracked a joke whenever the timing was right. You already liked him. A lot.

'Can I just say that you have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen?’ Grayson asks, laying a hand upon yours. You blink your eyes a few times, not really comprehending what he just said. 'I’m sorry, again. I’m really just saying almost everything that is crossing my mind right now. I hope you don’t mind. I just feel so comfortable with you already,’ he adds.

You smile and your heart flutters at his kind words. 'Thank you… That is so sweet. I could say the same to you, though,’ you say to him. Grayson chuckles and strokes a hand through his fluffy hair.


'So, what books did you bring?’ you ask, placing your hands under your chin. Meanwhile you were talking for almost an hour and a half and had drunk two cappuccinos. 'Oh yeah, I almost forgot!’ Grayson leans to the left to grab his bag that was stuffed with books. His arm muscles tense as he lifts up the bag and places it carefully on the table. It was so sexy.

He grabs one out of the bag and your eyes widen at the sight of the book in his hand. It looked so tiny compared to his hand. ‘Okay, so the first one is really, really good. It’s about a couple who live together, but they don’t really love eachother; which is kinda sad if you ask me. Anyway, the woman meets a guy she falls in love with, and then…’

His eyes sparkle when he shows you all the books and hands them over to you so you could flip through the pages and look what was on the covers. When his fingers stroke against your hands you feel a nice tingly feeling go down your spine and your eyes meet his. It’s quiet for a moment and he looks at you a little longer than normal before he continues. What was going on? Did he like you too or were you seeing ghosts?

After it already began to get dark outside and the café started to run empty, you decide that it was maybe smart that you should be heading home. 'Should I drive you home? It’s not really smart to go home on your own when it’s already dark outside,’ Grayson asked. 'No, it’s okay. I just live around the corner. I can walk,’ you respond.

'It’s really not a problem. I’d be happy too,’ he insisted, raising his eyebrows. 'Oh well, why not?’ you chuckled. After Grayson had paid (for you as well, since he also insisted on doing that) you put your jackets on and leave the café. Grayson was wearing a leather jacket which looked so good on him your heart started beating even faster.

It was cold and snowy outside. Grayson puts a hand on your lower back as he leads you to the car since the parking lot was a little slippery from the snow that was melting. You adored that he was so caring. It made him even more attractive.

After he drove you to your house and stopped the car, Grayson gets out and opens the porter for you. ‘Such a gentleman…’ you joke and smile at him. He chuckles while grabbing your hand so you can get out of the car without sliding. Suddenly you stand so close that you almost shared the same air. Your breath was coming out of your mouth in tiny clouds. You shiver; a mixture of pleasantness and coldness spreads itself through your body.

'Are you cold?’ Grayson asks sweetly. 'A little,’ you quietly admit and smile again. 'Well, I guess you should go inside then,’ Grayson whispers, but you don’t move. You can’t move, to be more exact. You feel frozen as you are drowning in his beautfiul brown eyes and completely forget about the world around you.

Grayson takes a step in your direction and grabs you gently by your waist, so your chest touches his. You gasp loudly. Was he going to do what you thought he was going to do? 'I had such a great time today. Thank you.’ Grayson whispers as he gets even more closer. Your cold nose almost touches his chin, but you were too small to reach his face.

Before you could answer Grayson slowly leans in. He closes his eyes and brushes his warm lips against yours. His breath on your lips made you go crazy. Then he gets even more close and puts his lips gently onto yours. You go stand on your tip toes so he could kiss you better.

His lips were heavenly and soft and even better than you could ever imagine. It wasn’t a rough kiss. He didn’t even used his tongue. It was a chaste one. A sweet and passionate one. It only lasted for a few seconds, but you couldn’t be more happy. He pulls back and looks at you so lovingly that your heart skips a beat. Oh, shoot. You were falling in love with this boy.

He entwines his fingers and places his hands on your lower back; it gave you a feeling like your bodies were melting together. 'I-I don´t know what to say,’ you whisper. You were so overwhelmed.

'You don’t have to say anything, Y/N. But I would like you to answer this question: Do you want to meet again sometime? And go on a proper date?’ You close your eyes for a moment and smile. Was this really happening? 'Yes. Definitely.’

We Have Rules For A Reason [Chapter 10]

Mood Board by the talented and wonderful @memoiresofaneternaldreamer

Chapter 10 of We Have Rules For A Reason

Ch1  Ch2  Ch3  Ch4  Ch5  Ch6  Ch7  Ch8  Ch9

Series Genre: Smut/Fluff/Angst/AU

Jaebum reached for Mark to shake his hand.

The look of contempt on Mark’s face was hard to miss but he eventually reached for his friend’s hand, returning the gesture.

“Did you come with Y/N?” Jaebum asked, feeling particularly curious.

“Yes,” he answered quickly, making your heart jump. He really did want to be with you in public.

Keep reading

sunshinemiranda’s 3k follow forever; 

i am still reeling from reading that number. 3,000 of you guys follow me. that’s insane. i love each and every one of you a BUNCH and i hope you never forget that. i decided to do a little follow forever to celebrate this milestone. thank you all so much! 

ultimate, ultimate darlings: 

@alexanderhamllton - okay, if you don’t follow this girl, you are severely missing out. ren is both the creator of this lovely banner she made (!!! have u seen the cute lil sun??? um) and the source of so many lovely gifsets that our fandom is blessed to have. i am always honoured to call her my long lost twin sister. 

@womenarethesequel - andie is quite literally a lighthouse in a storm. this girl offers me endless mountains of support and enthusiasm, i honestly don’t know where i’d be without her. what a precious thing!

@itsquietuptwon - wow, alright, lela?? is like the moon. she’s not always visible to us mere mortals, but when she is, it is stunning to see. her fics are so cute, and she spreads so much light and positivity. much love, petite poussin!

@butlinislin - rosie, rosie! if there’s anyone to go to when you’re needing a smile on your face, it’s this girl. she has nothing but good things to say, and is always considerate and easy-going. thank you for always having such faith in me. 

@protecting-my-legacy - my god, mackie is one of the funniest people i know. she has this wonderful, enigmatic humour that is unlike anyone i have ever seen! i adore her and her ability to make me laugh and smile. 

and now, the incredible blogs that make my dash such a great place! favourites are bolded, but that isn’t to say i don’t adore every one of you. 


@adothoe @alexanderburrsir @always-blame-jefferson @angelicaschuylerr @angerybisexual @anthonysfreckles @apart-ofthe-narrative @badlydrawnhamliton @bisonny @boss-headcanons @c-jacksonn  @cafesandlatenights @cinnamonbuneliza @daveeddiggsit @daveedish @devpatels @digging-daveed @diggs4life @down4usnavy @dvddggs 


@elizadeservesbetter @fragmentofmymind @gratitudejoyandsorrow @groffham @hamlltvn @helplessllly @honeyhamiltons @howdoyouwritenonnnstop


@imaginebeinghamiltrash @imagineham @imdedicatingeverydaytoyou @iwrotemywayto-revolution @jewdolph  @justhamilton @keepingupwithlinmanuel @laurenshtml @letsgiggletogether @linmiranda @linnamonbuns @linamonrolls @linslovelylocks @literallylin @lordlmm @lovely-laurens @lovinglaurens


@manuelmiranduh @marquis-de-labaguette @majorlaurens @musicalmiranda @niinarosario @nobeatnomelody @oldlinmanuelmiranda @ourforgottenboleros @payyourfucking-taxes @peachygroff @phillipamelie @phillipabroadway @psychedemigod @purelintrash


@secretschuylersister@storyoftonight @strongenoughfoundation @sunshinelafayette @teamgtnw @tempfixeliza @terror-in-the-dream @tiredbisexual @thefederalistfreestyle @tveits



as it is valentine’s day, and i am a sucker for everything regarding love & showering people in my life with love, i wanted to make a special follow forever for everyone i adore on this site. i’ve met so many incredible people and have grown to love and cherish you as i would anyone in my real life, because you’ve all always been there for me and have shown me so much support when i needed it. i can’t thank you enough for that and i don’t think any of you will ever really know how much that’s gotten me through my dark moments. therefore, that’s why it’s so important to let each and every one of you know how special and wonderful you are! i’ve written a little something for those who have truly touched my heart and i’ve also included everyone who i love, even if we’ve never spoken, i still think the absolute world of you hope that life is treating you well. to everyone reading this, i love you i love you i love you and you deserve everything beautiful and wonderful in this world. if you ever need me, i’m right here for you, and my heart is sending you lots of love and affection today (did u guys kno how sappy i am)(well now u do)(feel free to drag me for this okay i’m a ball of mush) 🌹

Keep reading

CLOSER (Bellamy Blake x Reader)

Request: Hey agaaain! The song “closer” by halsey and the chainsmorkers reminds me of Bellamy so can you please write something about? Just listen to it and write what pops in your mind ❤


Bellamy squints his eyes, wondering if it’s really you. It’s been four years since he’s even heard your voice. It’s been ages since he’s even thought of you.
He hasn’t even received a text or let alone a call from you but right now, right before his eyes, you’re here.

Keep reading

fangirlsbefangirling  asked:

May I request TFP reacting to a human baby?!?!?!

(The bullet points are probably going to come out as asterisks? Sorry)


* It’s… very small.
* He doesn’t want to touch it, in fear of hurting it, so he leans all the way down to squint at it. You have to hold it up so he can properly see.
* “Hello,” he says, and it starts kicking and making squirmy baby noises
* It’s the first time you’ve ever seen such an honest smile from Optimus.


* Oh, a baby. How wonderful! *sarcasm*
* Ratchet was planning on ignoring it, but you convince him to say hi
* He’s nervous. Very nervous
* He clears his threat and mumbles “hello, baby.”
* It squeals, and he chuckles.
* “I didn’t laugh.” He did.


* She’s a little surprised. She’s seen babies before, but she’s never met one. She didn’t expect it to be so small.
* She’s not as big as the others, so you let her hold it
* It’s…. cute
* Oh no. She’s falling in love with a baby oh no


* A baby?? A small human?? He’s never seen a baby before can he say hi??? Will it bite??? Can it talk??? What’s it’s name??? Where’d it come from???
* He’s so curious he wants to know everything
* He lies on the floor to try to get eye level with it, and they sort of communicate via gurgles and beeps
* He peek-a-boos with it for hours


* Aw, a baby! How cute!
* Can he say hi?
* He’s very polite to it, like it can actually understand what he’s saying
* “Nice to meet you baby!”
* He starts telling it how he’s heard so much about it and how he’s never met a baby before and do you like stories?


* Oh, wow! A baby! Can he - no that’s probably not a good idea he’d squish it
* He so wants to hold it but he knows he’s way to big, so he kinda just stands awkwardly to the side and watches it
* You tell him he can say hi if he wants, and honestly he’s so excited he can barely contain himself
* He leans down and coos and pulls faces and very, verrrrry gently pokes it
* He loves it can he be Uncle Smokey


* He has literally no idea what to do at all
* Talk to it? Touch it? Give it something?
* He says hi. Baby says nothing.
* He decides to break the ice by telling the story of how he and Bulk once got pushed off a cliff by Decepticons and had to swim fifty miles to safety
* Like, Jackie. No.