i blame the fact that i listened to them all day yesterday

Finding you

Originally posted by taesscripts

Words: 5992

Genre: Angst, fluff, smut

It has pretty much everything but there is a point where there will be smut so if you don’t fancy something like that you can just skip the part.

Description: Your cousin gave you a gift. It’s a pen, a pen that whatever you write upon your skin with it will also appear on your soulmate’s. Silly stuff, how can what you write with a stupid pen appear on your soulmate’s skin?

Keep reading

3, 30, 300 [Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader]

Summary: A new phase of your life begins as you move to an apartment in New York with an unknown roommate.

Word Count: 2,568

Warnings: None, maybe one ot two curse words?

Author’s notes: Wow, I’ve been with so many things in the works between college, collabs and personal matters that I didn’t even see time fly. This is the first thing I’ve written by myself in probably months, so I apologize in advance if I’m a little rusty. This is pure fluff and an adaptation of a story I wrote for my crative writing class, so… I hope you guys like it!

askbox | masterlist 

“Sorry, I didn’t-” your hands touched and the blush on your face became even more evident.

“No, it’s okay. Take it.” Lin’s smile was genuine, and you took the knife without saying a word. The both of you ate in silence, the cutlery against the ceramic plates being the only sound in the small kitchen and neither knowing how the dynamic between you worked.

Well, it was the first time you were sharing an apartment with a stranger, afterall.

You blamed the big city, the fear of conquering the concrete jungle without anyone to go to if needed. Online adverts about sharing an apartment in New York City brought you and Lin-Manuel together, both not knowing what each other looked like until only a few hours earlier, your moving trucks competing for a parking spot in front of the old building.

The two bedrooms were smaller than they looked like in the advert, which was already pretty small. When seeing the amount of boxes you unloaded, Lin gave up the bigger bedroom in exchange for you letting him place his piano in the cramped living room: you were unsure of how many nights you wouldn’t be able to sleep because of the instrument, but your initial bet was ‘many’.

You were right.

Keep reading

The Hunter and The Witch (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Summary: Hunters and witches can make a good team together.
Warnings: Mentions of sex, swearing.
Word Count2.202
A/N: Thank you so much for the amazing feedback people! This is going to be a multi chapter story and may include smut in the following chapters, haven’t decided yet, but please make sure to tell me what you think! Kisses :*
Gif’s not mine! 

Faulkner once said ; “The saddest thing about love, is that not only the love cannot last forever, but even the heartbreak is soon forgotten"

And then what are you left with? A bunch of memories.

You could still remember the first time you saw your big sister heartbroken. You could still see her trashing her room and waving her hand around, muttering the spells but nothing coming out of her hands, no light, no electric shocks. It was like yesterday that your mom held her in her arms, promising that everything would be okay.

You had to give it to her, it actually did get better for her. After losing her powers, she settled down, and now you had a cute niece that you adored, but you weren’t sure that she ever got over the fact that she had lost her powers over a boy. God knew you wouldn’t.

And you made sure to remember that. You made sure that every time you doubted your willpower, every time a cute boy smiled at you, every time you felt like you couldn’t take it anymore, you reminded yourself of your sister, and how devastated she was that she was no longer a witch, but a mere human.

So, you promised yourself that you wouldn’t risk it. Ever.

Keep reading

Forgiveness (Justin Foley x Reader)

Request; Hi how are you? Can I have a 13 reasons why imagine where you’re on the tapes because you gave Hannah hell after Justin cheated on you with her (which you found out through the text that sent around at the beginning of the show) and Justin trying to apologize to you when he realizes that the tapes were passed down to you

A/N; I’m gonna make a post after this about the next batch of imagines coming out.I made this kind of deep I felt like I was writing a chapter for my wattpad book ( sad ending kind of ) Also you didn’t really tell me how to end it so yea 

There are time shifts

Word counter; 1,706(lmaoo long af)

 Warnings;  I guess Maybe talk about death, suicide(Hannah’s ) panic attacks blah blah blah

 Alterations; Justin only has one tape reader it’s tape number 9 

Originally posted by riverdalebish

Present (Wednesday Morning )

We often make mistakes, we are human it is within our nature as we are raised we are taught that making mistakes isn’t as horrible.That those mistakes make us stronger and that we shall learn from them. What they forget to teach us is that a little mistake goes a long way and all actions have consequences.I made her life a living hell and for that, I will always be sorry but who would have thought that a little game would make a girl want to kill herself.Here I am laying in bed before getting ready for school thinking about all the things I could’ve done to save Hannah’s life. I killed Hannah baker I did it along with the others, Hannah didn’t commit suicide, we killed her, we killed her spirit and her will to live and we will carry that with us until the day we die.


It was Monday afternoon I was exhausted making my way home from school, this week has been crazy with Hannah Baker’s suicide and people wanting to create a memorial. I never really got along with Hannah after I found out Justin cheated on me with her. I make my way up the steps to reach my porch I spot a package with my name on it. I pick it up entering my house greeting my mom with a kiss and quickly making my way up the stairs.I reach my room throwing my bag on top of the bed and going over to my desk eager to open the package. I finally get the package open looking at the show box sitting in front of me. I slowly open it curious to see what’s inside but also scared of what it might contain. It didn’t look like a company package and I hadn’t ordered anything online.I open the package to find a set of tapes. Fifteen of them to be exact I look at the box with a puzzled look but decide to listen to it I pop the first tape in the radio and press play.

“Hey, it’s Hannah. Hannah Baker. That’s right. Don’t adjust your…whatever device you’re hearing this on. It’s me, live and in stereo. No return engagements, no encore, and this time, absolutely no requests. Get a snack. Settle in. Because I’m about to tell you the story of my life. More specifically, why my life ended. And if you’re listening to this tape you’re one of the reasons why. I’m not saying which tape brings you into the story. But fear not, if you received this lovely little box, your name will pop up. I promise.”

My blood ran cold as I heard the intro to the first tape something told me I won’t get any sleep today.The first tape was dedicated to Justin, then Jessica, then Alex, then Tyler, and Courtney, and Marcus then Zach,  even Ryan was in it. 

This brings me to my tape number 9 my blood ran cold again as I heard the intro.“I can’t really blame you for what you did or the way you reacted, after all, I did kiss your boyfriend but at the time you didn’t let me explain, see the thing is that Justin never mentioned a girlfriend and since I wasn’t really popular I didn’t keep up with who was dating who. I thought Justin was single I should’ve known better I guess.On the contrary of what you think I didn’t sleep with Justin like everyone thought. That day when you walked in the cafeteria , I was already having a bad day , with the rumor of me sleeping with Justin going around school ,that picture and the fact that even Clay didn’t want to talk to me you turned out to be the cherry on top when you walked into the cafeteria and slapped me calling me a slut in front of everyone. I tried keeping my tears in as I rushed to the bathroom and that was the start of how you made my life a living hell (Y/N) welcome to your tape”

My body shook as I finished listening to my tape. My breathing became shallow and tears began to fall it was happening again.My chest began to tighten, I felt my throat close up making it harder to breathe my muscles began to twitch. I was having a panic attack after 6 months of them being gone they came back. I spend the next half hour trying to calm myself. Usually, it was Justin who helped me whispering sweet things to my ear trying to get me to calm my breathing the thing is that he’s no longer here and even though I miss him I don’t think I could ever take him back. He hurt me too much, he lied not only to me but to other people about Hannah.


I decided to stay home yesterday trying to keep myself together and prepare for school today.Justin has been texting and calling me non-stop since he found out I got the tapes, asking if I was okay if I needed anything asking if we could talk. I’ve been ignoring him after listening to the tapes I needed some time for myself to think and sort things out. Guilt was a constant emotion I felt these past days.That feeling when your heart sinks to your stomach the constant feeling of anxiety or like you’re being watched the sadness that comes with it and the certain feeling of darkness that it’s creeping its way to your heart.

After getting ready for school I walk to my car get in and start the engine in less than 10 minutes I’m parked in the parking lot of Liberty High finding the courage to actually step into the school.I get out the car and make my way to the high school entrance I walk through the halls with my head down trying to go unnoticed.I reach Hannah’s locker and stand in front of it looking at it, they decorated it pictures, flowers everyone acted as if they knew Hannah or cared if they cared she would be alive today. I spot Justin at the corner of my eye and my breathing begins to pick up its pace, looking one more time at Hannah’s locker I feel the tears begin to fall as I push my way through the crowd of people making my way to the bathroom.

My breathing starts becoming shallow and I feel it coming I push into one of the stalls trying to take deep breaths my throat begins closing in, I choke on my breathing as it gets harder for the air to get into my lungs.I feel someone open the door to the bathroom but I ignore it trying to focus on my breathing.The door to the stall opens but I keep my eyes focused on the floor trying my hardest to make air reach my lungs, someone picks me up and sits me on their lap hugging me tightly given the scent I know it’s Justin at any other moment I would’ve protested shoved him away from me but I wasn’t in the right mind and as much as I hate to admitted in moments like this he knew how to calm me down.I sat on his arms as he whispered sweet things to my ear and played with my hair.

My breathing began to slow down reaching its normal pace.I slowly move away from Justin’s arms whispering a hushed thank you as I try to stand up.

“ hey, wait I want to talk to you” he says pulling me down so I’m sitting on his lap again

“ why Justin there’s nothing to talk about thanks for the help but that’s it this is where it ends”  I say my heart shattering with each word.

“ I just want you to forgive me, I’m truly sorry for everything and I love you and I always will and I regret everything from the start I want you back (Y/N) I can’t sleep at night thinking about how bad I fucked up and I miss you I miss you so much, I just wish I could go back and change everything” he says tears streaming down his face 

“ I just don’t understand why you lied to me, you said that Hannah was the one that approached you, I hated her for the longest time for no reason, I drove her to kill herself, you drove her to kill herself, don’t ask me for forgiveness ask her, you killed her , I killed her we all did and everything for what  huh?” I say trying to keep tears from falling

 “ I don’t know what I was thinking, we all make mistakes please forgive me, I just want to be back with you, I know what I did was wrong and I regret it every day I just wanted to be cool and Bryce pushed me to send the picture around so I did but I never meant any harm and I just I love you please forgive me” he says getting closer to me.At this point, I can’t keep my tears in they flow out like a river 

“Justin I’m not going to lie to you, I do I miss you, I miss you so much, my panic attacks started again and you’re the only one that helps me control them and I love you too I love you so much but right now I can’t get together with you we both need healing to do I forgive you I do but I just can’t be with you right now I need time” I say between sobs 

“ can we at least be friends I need you in my life, I promise I’ll give you time , I’ll make you fall in love with me again slowly we can try please promise we’ll try” He says standing up. I hug him tightly 

“ Yes we can be friends and later on when we are fixed we can try,” I say smiling a little

“I have your forgiveness now I only need to win your heart back,” He says smiling 

Like My Father But Bolder

Pairing: Philip Hamilton x reader
Word Count: 1,488ish
T/W: Angst
A/N: For Adorable Anon’s request: Anxious Philip x reader set during the Reynolds pamphlet time? Philip and the reader are dating, but he tries to break up with her cause he’s scared he might hurt the reader like Alex hurt Eliza, but the reader refuses to let him leave her and Philip kinda just breaks down?? Idk like he’s been trying to be strong during the whole thing for his family and for the reader but he can’t hide his sadness anymore and he finally lets all his feelings out (THIS IS SO SAD WHAT AM I DOING) ”
FINALLY, I’M SORRY!!!! The date might not mix with the proper time Philip was actually at King’s College, but whatever it’s a fic!
Tags:  @applesislife@iworshipmusicals@theworstkindofmia​✨@justfangirlingaround

1797 - Reynolds Pamphlet is published. 

The Hamilton family wasn’t the same. Eliza and Alexander, a marriage you thought was incorruptible, was in disarray. Philip was shattered, his parents fought, ignored each other and could barely be in the same room as the other. He felt like somehow he should be able to fix it, but the truth was he couldn’t, and it killed him. How did you fit in the mix? Philip was your suitor. You had been together for two years, but this was bound to be the hardest thing you would face as a couple. Philip kept the peace for the most part causing him to spend a lot of time on his own with his family and less with you as a young couple of that time should be getting before marriage.

The only reason his parents would come together is if Philip invited you over for dinner. He tried to make conversation with his them, he saw them both so seldom. Alexander was almost always at his office and Eliza often found sanctuary in the library. They rarely crossed paths, even with Philip, as he was at college during the day. After dinner, things went back to normal, they both said kind words to you and left in opposite directions. You didn’t fail to notice the way Philip seemed after such events, but you wondered if he should just come to terms with the fact that it wasn’t his responsibility at all. You can’t fix people or their actions…. 

Keep reading

I Do

Dean Winchester x Reader

1550 Words

Story Summary:  It’s your wedding day. Everything was perfect, except for one thing. The groom wasn’t Dean Winchester.

“Honey. You look beautiful.” Your Mom told you, while you sat in front of the oval mirror, applying the finishing touches to your makeup. The hair stylist had already left, after fixing your hair up in gentle curls, some gathered on top of your head while others floated softly around, framing your face beautifully.

“Mom, I don’t even have my dress on yet.” You exclaimed, still sitting in your silk robe. You were in a small room off to the side of the church, a room that was filled with you, your Mom, and your maid of honor.

You were getting married, your white satin dress hanging up beside you, but you felt a lump in your stomach instead of the joy you should be feeling. The reception hall was perfectly decorated, you had checked that earlier this morning. Your flowers were perfect, you had something borrowed, something blue. Everything was going as it should. Everything that is, except for who you were marrying.

Keep reading

tutoring sessions — peter parker (part four)

read part one, part two, and part three 

prompt: on the day of your makeup exam, you have yet to confront peter on the fact that you know he’s spider-man. but then again, tests are more important than boys—even if that said boy is a superhero. 

warnings: cute!! fluff!! i’m so sad to see this end rip 

notes: i’m so happy y'all liked this series omg thank you so much for the support. there’s so many people on the taglist so i decided not to do one!! please request ideas and follow! hope you enjoy 

Sneakers squeaking against the tiled floors, echoing in the practically empty hallway, the sounds of yelling and laughter no longer filling up the space around you. You remember the constant tapping of your pencil in Mrs. Gardener’s classroom as you checked and scanned each answer over and over and over—damn it, that’s supposed to be terminated—making sure that every single problem had been solved to perfection. The amount of work you had put into this had left you exhausted, but more ready than ever. 

Hours before you had studied nonstop, in between classes, during study hall; everything that you could do in your power to prepare, you did. Yesterday, you had even locked yourself in your bedroom after showering, opening up textbooks and notes that you had written and highlighted—acting as though you were completely unfazed by the event that had taken place previously. 

[Y/N] you could’ve died today—

Yeah well, Mom, I will die if I don’t pass this, I’m okay I swear. 

You were beyond focused, barely looking up unless it was to glance at your phone whenever MJ had sent you a motivational text message; and though you were nervous, you were confident. You knew you had worked hard to do this and you knew that you were smart; you could do this. And you did. To describe the feeling was easy. It was, well for lack of better term—


You handed in your test and Mrs. Gardener took it. While you did feel somewhat triumphant, you also felt dull. It was a simple change, nothing spectacular, and you’re not exactly sure why you expected something more. It was anticlimactic and it felt like the days you spent being tutored never happened and that you had ever spent time with…


You frowned as you stopped at your locker, taking note of the fact that he hadn’t texted you back yet. However, you couldn’t exactly blame him. He was a superhero and a fifteen year old kid. You could only imagine the struggle to balance that. Though, you couldn’t deny the never ending questions you had. Like, how’d he get his powers? How did he deal with them? Was everything radioactive? Did he—oh my God, could he hear my heart beating every time we sit together—

Footsteps snapped you out of your thoughts and you looked up to see MJ, whom you had expected to see since she told you she would wait for you to give you some emotional support, but you didn’t expect to see Peter. He looked down, or his eyes would flicker around, not stopping on you. You hadn’t talked to him at all today—which was suck-ish, you got to admit—and he went out of his way to sit somewhere else and run the other way in the halls. Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration; he didn’t run away from you, he just walked…really fast. 

It was no big deal to you, mainly because you knew why he was avoiding you, and to be honest, he didn’t completely ignore you. He may be good at keeping secrets (huge, spider related secrets!) but he wasn’t good at pretending that he wasn’t staring at you. Seriously, you could practically always feel his eyes on you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. It was cute. 

He was cute. He is cute—shush, [Y/N]! Snap out of it! He’s walking over with MJ, okay okay, act normal. Lean against your locker, no don’t! That’s weird.

“So, how’s my favorite nerd?” MJ asked, her figure towering over you. Her eyes glance to Peter. “No offense, Parker, you’re a runner-up for third.”

“Third, what?” He mutters to himself, but so far he acts like he’s not part of the current ongoing situation. 

“It was surprisingly easy. I knew everything, or mostly everything, and yeah,” you told MJ. “Mrs. Gardener says she’ll try and grade it tonight.”

“I told you that you could do it! Look at you go,” MJ replies and she gives you a smirk and a knowing expression. 

“Yeah well, I studied all night and…Well, I had a good tutor.” Your eyes land on Peter and at your statement he slowly lifts his head up and stops staring at his hands. 

“No need to thank me,” MJ interrupts the staring contest you’re currently having with Peter and turns to start walking, whispering something to the boy, before addressing you. “Text me if you get your grade tonight!”

She makes her way towards the school doors—walking because no, [Y/N] I don’t run because I am too cool for that—but you don’t miss the thumbs up she shoots you as she exits. You pack several textbooks into your bag awkwardly, listening to Peter shift around and sniffle a couple times. You close your locker and turn around, neither of you saying a word. 

You scrape your foot against the floor and you’re wondering who’s going to say something. You’re excited to talk to him, to officially thank him for basically saving your life along with twenty three other people’s lives, and he’s just staring at you. Gazing at you in a way no one has ever looked at you before. In the way he always has. 

His eyes are tracing off the slope of your nose and the color of your eyes and the way you’re currently biting your lip to distract yourself, and his heart is racing, racing, racing, and he really did wish that he had Karen this time to give him some advice. He knows that MJ’s pep talk before should have given him an ego boost so that he could finally confess his feelings for you, but he was still struggling to get one word out of his mouth. You’re just so—everything about you made his heart fall to the floor and he’s freaking out.

“So…” He starts.

“So…” you repeat, locking eyes with him. “"You’re Spider-Man, huh?”

He gives you an incredulous look. “What? Wha—no, no! Where on Earth did you get that idea?” 

“Okay, so you’re not ignoring my texts and me because you’re a Spider-themed superhero who constantly saves Queens, New York,” you tell him, acting like you believe him. “And I just found out your alter-ego which I shouldn’t have?”

“Of course not,” he stammers and you quirk a brow, taking a step towards him as he takes a step back. 

“So Spider-Man just happens to coincidentally be about the same height as a young man I know as Peter Parker and have the exact same voice as him and the same figure and they both happen to do that thing where they lower their voice in front of other people to sound tougher and impress—”

“Okay, okay!” Peter stops you, sighing as his shoulders slump down in defeat. He gives in and you smile brightly, ignoring the sudden proximity between you two. “I’m Spider-Man.”

“I knew it! That’s so…awesome! I mean you were already pretty awesome as Peter Parker and you’re also Spider-Man so you’re, like, double awesome? So cool,” You gush suddenly and Peter’s blushing hard. “You’re literally my hero both ways—even though I could totally save myself, just saying—but because of you I don’t have a bullet through my head and I have a chance of actually passing my test!” 

“N-no problem, [Y/N], but that was all you, you know,” Peter says and he tries to steady his breathing. “But, uh, um, I came here to say—well, to tell you something else. Kind of.” 

He fiddled with his sweater and he’s stuttering trying to get the words out. He’s rocking on the balls of his feet, thinking about all the ways he’s going to get rejected, and all the ways he won’t care if he gets rejected because he doesn’t believe in the friend zone and he will respect your decision over anything because if you do not see him romantically that’s your choice and he knows he would have no right or reason to be mad at you for that. He would be sad, sure, but he just cares about respecting you and keeping you happy without forcing anything onto you. God, god, god, he’s so nervous. He’s rambling to himself. 

Come on, Peter. You got this. 

“So MJ and I were talking with Ned and she found something out about me—not the Spider-Man thing, she doesn’t know about that, only you and Ned do, but yeah, not the point, sorry. Anyways, you make me…really, really nervous. And I always want to impress you because you’re smart and funny and adorable and we like the same things and I in no way was trying to take advantage of you by trying to be your tutor, I genuinely wanted to help you and,” He looks up at you and you can see how flustered he is. He lets out the shakiest breath you’ve ever heard and you grin. “MJ set this whole thing up because…I…like you.” 

“Oh, wow.” 

Your brain is a mess. It’s like a jumbled mess of numbers is screaming out you and a big, red sign in your head is going OH!!! MY!! GOD!! and you gulp. No one had ever talked about you like that before. Yeah, it wasn’t the best or most romantic of eloquent thing you’ve ever heard, but it was how he said it. He was a mess because of you. You did that to him. He does that to you. 

“Peter…I like you too,” you admit and it comes out in such a rushed, hurried breath that he almost didn’t hear it. “This is such a relief, we both like each other. Thank goodness.” 

Peter chuckles, but there’s still a hint of anxiety in there.

 [Y/N] is so cute, I’m going to explode. 

Suddenly, your phone rings and you remember that your mom is here to pick you up. You both give each other an innocent look and you try to say something before walking away. You don’t know how to exactly say it and you know it’s going to take a lot of courage to say it but—

“Do you…wanna, you know, go to homecoming with me?” You blurt out and it’s said so clearly that you surprise yourself and Peter. “Considering the fact that if I get a good grade on my retake I can go. And if my parents finally decide to let me interact with someone romantically.”

His eyes widen. “Ho-homecoming? With you? Of course, yes, totally, I’d love to go with you, that’s so awesome, I’ll—yeah, yes.”

“Good. I’ll, I will text you. We’ll text each other. We can sort everything out.”

“Yeah, yeah, totally,” he says sighing slightly dreamily and distracted. You just asked him out? He had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. “T-talk to you later?”

“Yeah,” you say and you turn to walk out the door and into your mom’s car before she yells at you, but on a quick last minute choice, you run back quickly and kiss his cheek. “Bye, nerd.”

He watches you walk away and in the midst of currently losing his mind, he’s worried about one thing. 

What on earth is he going to wear?

all done!!! request more please! requests are open 

Do you really mean that?

It was rather amusing watching Rafael actively trying to ignore his vibrating phone which sat upside down on the table in the restaurant. It was the first time you had been back there since your first date. The vein on his forehead was pulsing prominently and he seemed incredibly stressed out.

“Just answer it!” you said.

“No. Is it too much to ask for some time alone with you?”

“You’re an important man, it’s only natural that people are going to demand your time and attention.” You tried to keep from smiling while saying this but your attempts were unsuccessful, particularly after he started rolling his eyes at you.

“Very funny.”

Before you could reply, your phone started ringing angrily. How can a phone be angry you ask? Honestly, you had no idea, but if ever a phone has sounded angry and urgent, yours did at that very moment. You and Rafael looked at each other, resigned to the fact that your evening was ruined.

“Hey Liv!” you answered, as cheerily as your could manage.

“Where is Barba?” She sounded stressed, you decided against scolding her for interrupting your evening.

Keep reading

Group Project... (Parker x Reader)

(A/N) HII! So, I’ve been working on all the requests so far and I’m so excited for what I have in store for you guys, in the mean time, I hope you all can enjoy something I’ve been working on for a while. While there was no official request, it was something I had a lot of fun writing, enjoy!

“I have no clue what this is supposed to be.” I said, my eyes widening as I glanced at my friends laptop screen.

“Oh, come on… it’s obviously something to do with chemical compositions of water…” (Y/F/N) said. My face read disbelief.

“You’re delusional…. how are you in AP CHEM?” I asked sarcastically. She laughed a little before closing the picture, returning to the random game of solitaire she was playing instead of working on our group project.

“Nick, you got anything on aragonite saturation? We should include that in our presentation if we decide to go in depth about the acidification effects on water.” Nick looked at me as I spoke.

“Yeah, I got some reports about the reliability of the testing, but it’s outdated and scientists have switched to more modern method of study,” Nick replied, pulling up the various articles he found to show me.

“Interesting, can you find more information about the new tests?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m on it.”

“Peter…” I called across the lab table, he looked up startled. “How’s your progress on the physical properties of water?”

“Uh… go—good.” He stuttered avoiding my eye.

“Do you think you have enough to pull the presentation together?” I asked hopefully.

“Oh… yeah—definitely…” he trailed off, glancing up once to meet my eye before blushing intensely looking back to the laptop screen.

“Good good…,” I trailed off returning to my own research.

It was obvious Peter was uncomfortable with the group he was placed in for our chemistry project, he clearly wasn’t friends with any of us, and he preferred to do his work alone as opposed to in the group, like I had been pushing for all of us to do. Peter insisted he could handle completing the work that was meant for two people on his own, leaving the three of us, me, Nick and (Y/F/N) to tackle the chemical properties of water, and its affect on the ecosystem.

“Ok, presentations are Monday, that gives us one more class day to work on it. We still need to start on the slideshow and practicing if we want a good grade,” I said with three minutes left in class.

“We’ll work on the slides tomorrow. Don’t worry, we got this,” (Y/F/N) said, still playing the solitaire game from earlier.

“Yeah, well that doesn’t make up for the fact that we’ll probably need to work on this over the weekend. We still need to incorporate all the information we’ve found into one, smooth presentation.” I glanced over at Peter who hasn’t looked up from his computer and who hasn’t said a word, apart from when I forced him to update me on his progress.

“Peter, what do you think?” I asked, curious about someone else’s opinion.

He looked up, his eyes shifting from me to (Y/F/N). He opened his mouth to respond when the deafening bell sounded instead. Nick and (Y/F/N) sprinted out of the room, having packed up a few minutes earlier, leaving Peter and yourself to pack up together.

“If you need any help at all with your part, I’m always open,” I offered Peter. He glanced up at me, mumbling a quiet thanks before looking back at his backpack.

“Honestly, I’m not just trying to be nice. Anyways, the whole project is about tying the chemical and physical properties together, so it might help if we collaborate or something…” I said, following Peter out of the empty lab room and down the hall to his locker.

“Ok, thanks… for the offer,” he said, opening his locker quickly and grabbing his sweatshirt before slamming it shut. “I’ll see you tomorrow, (Y/N).”

“See you…,” I trailed off, my voice quieting in the busy halls of the emptying school as I was left alone in a sea of people.

“So what’s our status on this project?” I asked no one in particular, closing my eyes and rubbing my forehead in attempt to alleviate the headache I have.

“We have the background and intro slide done,” Nick said, making a face as if we spent the entire class period working as efficiently as possible.

“Ugh….” I groaned, my head falling into the table as a sign of defeat. “So we definitely have to do this over the weekend…”

“Yeah… sorry (Y/N), not gonna happen. I have soccer practice all day tomorrow, and then playoffs Sunday. I’m booked solid,” (Y/F/N) said, her eyes growing tired at the mere thought of all the energy she’ll soon exhaust.

“Nick?” I asked hopefully.

“Sorry… the football tournament, we have like— three games.”

“Peter, please tell me you’ve got my back,” I begged my head on the table and giving my best pout to him.

“Yeah, yeah, I—I have no plans,” he said, his gaze quickly diverting back to the slideshow we had been working on.

“Great, meet me at the library tomorrow, noon?” I asked, hoping he’d look at me for confirmation.

“Noon sounds fine.” The bell rang, and the room cleared. Like usual, I was left the last in the room with only the teacher. I waved goodbye to him as I left.

I began my walk home, but the brisk wind cut against my cheeks, burning them raw from the cold of late October. Walking home in terrible weather was a usual for me, unless I took the subway which I hated with a passion.

I was one or two blocks from the apartment when, through my loud music I heard screams from up ahead. I stopped suddenly. They were abnormal, loud. It was a shrieking that seemed to rattle my bones. I was almost scared to continue walking—did I really want to know what was up ahead?

I took out a single earbud, listening again but only hearing the wind against my ears. Then, it happened again. A loud shriek, I swear someone must have been getting murdered. This time, it was followed by a noise that sounded like the air getting cut.

It seemed to be coming from behind me, and I turned just in time to see a red blob swinging down the middle of the street in record time. He must’ve gotten two or three blocks down before he swung to a right side street. Spiderman. I should’ve known. But, he was a legend; literally. Stories told in the streets. Rarely seen, but greatly appreciated. I was amazed I had even seen him at all.

I smiled an awestruck smile, and continued to walk to my apartment, taking extra caution, but keeping my eyes open for the man in a red suit.

“You should’ve seen him! It’s amazing! He’s amazing! I cant believe I saw him with my own eyes!” I exclaimed, recounting yesterday’s events to Peter. He sat across from me at the table in the library, and he seemed half-interested in what i was saying, half-focused on our science project.

“Imagine being that athletic, that—that fit. Having, powers—or whatever. He must feel like he could do anything,” I trailed off, my mind wandering to the hero I’d seen yesterday. “Don’t you think?”

“Sorry, who are we talking about again?” Peter asked jokingly, looking up from his computer with a small smile.

“Spiderman! Who else?” I played along, smiling back. My eyes trailed to my left, my thoughts traveling away as I began focusing on a bookshelf across from us. “But, I guess it isn’t always sunshine and flowers,” I said, I looked back at him, leaning slightly farther towards him.

“Huh?“Peter asked, maintaining eye contact with me.

“I mean, with any power, control, abilities—whatever,” I struggled to find the right wording. “There’s always gonna be responsibility…”

“I guess you’re right,” Peter said. He looked around the open room.

“Sure, he might be fighting crime and being a hero, but whenever something goes wrong—whenever a criminal gets away—who’s going to be the first person to get blamed?” Peter was glaring at me intensely now, giving me his full attention.

“And then there’s the guilt, the guilt of not being able to save everyone. I mean, he’s just a guy right? He’s gotta have a life. What happens when one day, he’s not there to save the city?” Peter looked away, his eyes lost with his own thought. “Sorry, we should probably get back to work.”

“You make a good point,” Peter said after sitting in silence for minutes. “There has to be negatives to protecting the city. But he’s obviously willing to accept them, the consequences of the ‘job’, for the better good. He’s willing to accept that responsibility, so long as someone gets saved along the way.”

“I suppose,” I started, “he’s truly one of the good ones then. Willing to risk his life, his sanity, for a bunch of strangers in New York City.”

“What a guy,” Peter said, cracking a smile at me when I looked up at him.

“What a guy,” I repeated, laughing slightly. I looked back down at the computer screen and continued on the group work that had to be done Monday morning. It was a lot of work, but I had no doubt in my mind Peter and I could get it done.

After a long four hours, Peter and I had managed to completely finish the twenty slide PowerPoint, and write Flashcards for each one of us to read from when it was our time to present our findings. It was starting to get dark out, but I wasn’t going to admit I was nervous to walk alone. Fortunately, Peter offered to walk me back to the apartments. I’m pretty sure he lived nearby anyway.

“Thanks, for offering.”

“No problem,” Peter said.

I think that in a matter of a few hours, Peter and I had actually become friends. He wasn’t awkwardly stuttering around me, and he actually made eye contact and conversation. I hope this ‘friendship’ goes beyond this weekend, because honestly he’s pretty kind.

“You’re pretty cool, you know?” Peter said after walking in silence for a bit. “You’re not like the other girls you hang out with.”

“I’ll take that as a complement?” I questioned.

“Oh! Yeah! I didn’t mean anything by that just—,” he put his hands out in defense. “You’re nice, not hanging off every boy just to get laid.” He took a breath, a bit of hesitation. “You made an effort.”

I chuckled. “Thanks, I guess.”

We walked in silence for a couple of more minutes as we approached the block that I lived on. I dreaded having to end the walk, because Peter’s company made me feel happy.

“Well, this is me,” I said, stopping short at the apartment entrance. Peter looked at the building and turned to me.

“We should do group projects together more often, it was fun.”

“We should,” I said, “we work really well together.” I smiled slightly.

Peter smiled back, looking at his shoes quickly, blush taking over his face. “We should definitely do more group projects together.”

“Definitely,” I agreed.

“Even if like, it’s just the two of us, we could still, y'know, work together,” Peter was back to his stuttering self. Now, I was the one blushing.

“I’d like that,” I said, “if you’re up for it, of course.”

“I mean, definitely, I am,” Peter said, looking up again, his arm slightly reaching towards me as he spoke. He realized he was reaching for me and blushed intensely, immediately moving it to his head, rubbing it as he turned.

“I guess I should be getting inside then?” I posed it as a question, wondering if we were done talking around this subject.

“Of course, its freezing!” Peter said. “Sorry, I babble.”

I turned to go inside, my hand pushing the door open. I turned around, leaning into the slightly open door and debated saying the words on the tip of my tongue. I got enough courage to say it. “I’d love to go out with you.”

“Oh good, you see, I was going to ask…” Peter continued to talk mindlessly, seeming to speak a mile per second, I smiled again, rolling my eyes as I pushed the door open some more.

“See you Monday, Parker,” I said, turning around and walking through the door.

“Yeah, Monday,” he waved, smiling widely as I walked away.

anonymous asked:

hey tay :) can you write a fic where the distance between you and josh is too much while he's on tour so you guys break up? and then somehow you end up back together? thanks :)

hopefully this was kind of what you were thinking?? sorry i haven’t been so active in the past month. im still here though!! love you all - tay


“I know you’re mad, so just let it out.”

You sigh heavily, “I’m not mad,” you protested. “I’m just saying, you could’ve called me back, like you said you were going to.  I feel like we just don’t talk much anymore.”

“We talk everyday!” Josh argues back. 

You sigh, “Yeah, I know. But you just said you’d call, was all.  And you didn’t. And that kind of sucked.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.  We just get so busy, I lost track of time.”

You bite your lip, still frustrated, but you hold back.  Fighting with Josh was not how you wanted to spend your short phone call with him tonight.  “It’s fine, I understand.”

“What time is it there?” Josh asks through the phone, still buzzing from ‘post-concert vibes’, as he called them.  

“Like 2—“ you held your phone out to check the time, “… 3 am,” you corrected yourself as you squinted at the bright screen.  

“You should get to bed, babe,” he whispered through the phone.

You shook your head, “No,” you grunted, “I wanna talk to you.”

Josh’s quiet laughter rings through the phone.  “Me too, but you need sleep,” he lectures.  “I’ll let you go, okay?”

You blame the sudden wave of emotion on the exhaustion, but the idea of Josh hanging up brought instant tears to your eyes.  He’d been away on tour for six, grueling weeks now, and you cherished the few moments on the phone you got with him.  Ending that early because Josh was concerned with your sleep schedule was enough to warrant the sudden sob that escaped your lips.

“Y/N?” Josh’s voice turns serious.

You hold your phone away from you for a moment, clutching it tightly to your chest as you try not to sob again, or at least hoping Josh won’t hear it if you do.  But you hear his voice calling for you.

“Baby-“ you can tell he’s worried, so you try to hold it together.

With a bitten lip and stuffy nose, you speak, “Please don’t hang up, I miss you—“

Josh sighs.  “I know.”

You wait quietly on the other line, exhausted and sad and overwhelmed by the intensity of how much you craved his touch.  

“Just gotta make it a few more days.  Then I’ll be home.  I miss you too,” he says after a few moments.  “So much.”

“Please don’t hang up,” you whisper again, feeling pathetic and needy.  

“I won’t,” Josh promises.

When you wake the next morning, you’re clutching your phone against your chest.  Josh stayed true to his word.  His name was dimly lit on your screen, the phone call lasting a total of three hours and twenty four minutes.  You listen on the line, hopeful you might hear his steady breathing sleeping on the other end of the line, but there’s just a faint humming noise.  You sigh.  

“I love you,” you whisper before hanging up.  

You leave the light hanging over the kitchen table on before heading out for the day, flicking off the rest, a new habit. Coming home to a dark and empty home over the past few weeks is worse than the work week you’ve been juggling; at least when you’re at your desk, you can focus on the endless piles of paperwork instead of the ache you know you’ll feel just after you stumble in over the welcome mat, no one else to be found.

You grimace when you catch your reflection in the mirror beside the closet on your way out the door.  The bags under your eyes are swirled shades of green and purple.  You sigh, shrugging on your jacket.  It’s raining, the weather complete and utter shit. You can’t be bothered to put any real effort into your appearance, not when it’ll be ruined just four or five steps off the curb, courtesy of the wind and rain steadily whipping around outside.  It’s a bleak Wednesday, late and damp during the middle of a work week.  And you’re miserable.

You drum your fingers repeatedly along your desk, staring at the desktop that now had pictures from your screen savor floating around, too lost in your own mind to be efficient.  

You’d signed off on two discharges and managed to nibble your way through half a bagel, but that was the extent of your productivity thus far.  

Your eyes kept wandering towards your phone, sitting kitty-cornered on your desk, screen up.  Josh had the day off, which meant he could be asleep for hours more.  It drove you crazy going this long without talking to him.  This isn’t what you wanted. None of this is what you wanted.  And while you agreed that distance couldn’t break you two apart as he went out to pursue his dreams, you couldn’t ignore the nagging fear in the back of your mind that it just wouldn’t work out.  That fear grew louder as the phone calls grew less and less consistent.  Days like yesterday, where Josh wouldn’t ring until the night was in the single digits, made you wonder how long you had left.  But Josh was right.  You just had to make it until Friday.  Then he’d be home, and things would be just as they always were.

You send Josh a quick message at 3 pm your time.  It’s nothing much, just wishing him a restful day off.  The fact that it goes unanswered speaks louder than the text.  

You eventually get engulfed in your work, losing track of time, and working well past five.  By the time you’re packing everything up, it’s dark outside.  Street lights reflect off the wet pavement and you make your way home, checking your phone again.  

There’s a snapchat from Tyler.  Nothing from Josh.

You open the notification, waiting for a moment as the video loads.  As soon as it does, you feel your face fall.  You barely register Tyler’s voice narrating the video.  He says something sarcastic about what great company he had as the camera points at Josh sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone.  You frown, immediately going to your messages.  Your text wasn’t even opened yet. It was becoming routine for Josh not to answer you or call you back. You take a deep breath and throw your phone back into your purse, making a vow to yourself not to check it again.

You spent the entire walk home feeling like you might scream out in anger at any minute.  But by the time you walked through the door to your apartment, you just felt empty.  

When you laid down that night, the loneliness curled up in the pit of your gut, like a fox in its winter den. You felt small - smaller than you’d ever felt.

You finally sat up on your bed at 3am, not able to fall asleep. You sent Josh a goodnight text three hours ago, but the truth is you never slept well without him by your side. And the sad part was, you were starting to think Josh didn’t feel the same anymore.

At 3am, you allow yourself to think about the fact that you might not win. You might lose Josh, and soon. The thought of living without Josh in your life is what creates the tear stains on your pillow case, and the muffled sobs in the shower.

When your alarm goes off at 6am, you’re groggy and exhausted.  There’s a text on your phone from Josh.  A simple ‘goodnight x’ is all.  You sigh and open the message.  

One more day, you tell yourself.  Just one.  

For a few hours, you’re hopeful.  You swing through the airport, your heart racing as soon as Josh came into sight, and you barely get the car in park before you’re flinging off your seatbelt and rushing to the curb.  

You launch yourself into his arms, ignoring the suitcase that falls to the ground, as you wrap your arms around his neck.  

He inhales deeply, his hands locking around your body as he hugs you tight.  

“God, I missed you,” he whispers into your hair.  

You feel at home the entire way back to the apartment with Josh’s hand in yours.  You watch the road, and he watches you.  And things just feel good.

It was nearly 2am and you could still hear the smash of the dinner plate against the wall.

You and Josh just stood there staring at one another, the crushed china leaving a mark on the wall and dust at your feet. You were both silent, out of breath from the argument you’d just had.

But you were tired. You were so sick and so tired and you absolutely despised everything right now.

You don’t even remember what had started the fight – You’d brought up the distance, like an idiot, and Josh immediately got defensive, claiming you were suffocating him, and he needed space to pursue his dream. All you knew was that you started shouting at him, animating your arms as you usually did. Josh wasn’t much of a shouter, he just stood there.

You stared at the broken plate, tears starting to fog up your vision as you realized you were turning into someone you definitely did not want to be.  “I’m done,” You finally said, sighing heavily.  “I don’t want to fight, I’m sorry.”

Josh nods.  He retrieves the dust pan from the closet and starts cleaning up the shattered glass.

“Let’s just go to bed,” he suggests.  

You nod, your chest finally deflated.  You notice the distance between you two as you crawl into bed that night.  You thought you’d sleep like a baby with him back, but instead you stare at him in the darkness, realizing you spent the one night you had together this month screaming and fighting.  

And you knows you’re avoiding the inevitable, but you just can’t imagine going one day without Josh.

You choke on the air, it’s hard to breathe.

You drop Josh off at the airport the next afternoon.  

And your eyes are flooded but you shake your head.  You hate leaving things like this, so unresolved and up in the air.  Josh hugs you tightly goodbye.  He kisses your cheek before whispering, “I love you.”

You say it back, but it feels more like a routine at this point.  

“Are we okay?” he asks, holding you out in front of him.  He scans your face.

You offer a forced smile.  “Yeah,” you lie.  

You always had so much trust in Josh and your relationship.  And you always just had faith, that despite the distance and despite the pain, things would work out.  Because you and Josh were meant to be.

But that’s the thing that you finally realized. This world is not a fairy tale, and Josh was not Prince Charming.  He was just a man who you gave your entire heart to.

You parked your car in the driveway after the fifteen minute ride home and looked in the rear view mirror to see your face was dry.  No more tears.

It’d been thirteen hours since you’d heard from Josh.  He should have landed hours ago, but you hadn’t heard from him yet.  You dial his number, worried.

“Hey babe,” he answers on the forth ring.

“Hey-“ you say, acknowledging his upbeat tone. “You made it okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, “sorry, I forgot to call.  I landed at six.  Just getting used to the time change again.”

You sigh, “I’ll let you go then.”

“Sounds good,” he says.  “Talk to you later.”

You make an oath not to text or call Josh first.  Just to see how long things will go before he’s in touch.  On the third day, you make your decision.  Your heart hurt too much to continue on.  

You just can’t do it, you feel like you’ve suffered for so long, long enough.  You both had.  And someone needed to put an end to both of your suffering.

“This isn’t working.”

“What?” Josh asks, sounding like he was multitasking on the other end of the line.  

“I can’t do this anymore.” You say sternly.

“Oh.” Is all Josh can say.

“We haven’t talked in three days.” You tell him, cause you’re sure he isn’t keeping track like you are.

“Do… Do you want to break up?”

“Yeah, that’s what I want.”

For a moment, you wish you could take it back.  Go on pretending it was all okay.  You didn’t want to say goodbye to the best thing to ever happened to you, but damn it, you had to. Maybe in another universe you and Josh worked out.  But you were slowly dying inside.  

“All right then, we’re over, done, broken up, splitting ways, whatever  you want to call it.”

You sighed.

“Bye Josh,” was all you said before hanging up the phone. You didn’t want to fight.  You were too exhausted to keep fighting.  

*four months later*

It’s a Tuesday evening when you hear that there’s a show in town. It’s poor timing, really; you have precisely a million and one stacks of paperwork to catch up on for work, your apartment needs a desperate cleaning that you’ve put off for weeks, and you’ve been fighting off a cold since Friday that finally seems to be winning.  You stare at the band’s flyer posted online - a bleak announcement that they’re back for one night only at their old stomping ground, a shit time slot right around midnight - and you give it about 30 seconds before you’re leaping off the couch, looking for your wallet.

You know it’s a terrible idea to revisit the band that you spent so many nights swaying to alongside Josh, music you’ve kissed and danced to, music that quickly became the soundtrack to your relationship. Music that was mediocre at best, but it was yours. It’s all you can think about every time you hear the tinny beat pulsing through your headphones. It used to be soothing. Now, it breaks your heart.

You go, anyway, driven by a force you can’t explain, needs to be immersed in the band you once shared and loved together. Just for tonight, to feel like you’re okay.

By the time you arrive, your shoulders are damp from the rain.  

“Nice weather,” the man at the entrance quips.

You force a smile. “Yeah, I’m soaked, and I only live three blocks from here.”

“Oh, you’re a local.”


“I thought you looked familiar. You come here often?”

You shrug. “Not as much as I used to.”

“Sure, sure. Well. Enjoy yourself tonight. Heard the band tonight is fairly decent.”

You quickly make your way up to the bar, weaving in and out of the people starting to make their way inside, puddles beginning to form on the floor from the weather. You lean up against the counter.

You take your drink and situate yourself up against the back wall, leaning against it, surveying the crowd. There’s probably about 300 people present - more than you thought would show up - and when the lights dim, a restless cheer goes through the room. The band walks out on stage, taking their usual positions at their instruments, and when the first strum of the guitar echoes throughout the space, you exhale deeply.

It’s around the third song that you realize this might be the worst idea you’ve had in your entire life. You were hoping hearing these songs, being enveloped in these melodies, would feel like closure, would bring some peace or serenity or happiness. Instead, your mind is a whirlwind of memories - some bad, mostly good - and the pit settling at the bottom of your stomach is growing with every lyric.

This isn’t what you wanted.

You want to go home, but you feel glued to your spot, the plinking of the piano keys simultaneously keeping you frozen and wanting to run away.

And then you spot something - someone - out of the corner of your eye, and it’s not just the alcohol making you nauseous anymore.

You don’t move. You’re too afraid to. Instead, you pray Josh doesn’t notice you, is engrossed enough with the group he’s with to leave you as the invisible girl. You eye the exit, cursing under your breath when you realize you’ll have to walk directly by Josh to escape. You desperately try to plot a route to get the hell out of here when you pinpoint the exact moment that Josh sees you. It’s like he’s just seen a ghost, his entire body going tense, the smile dropping from his face. you watch as Josh’s friend - why does Josh have friends that you don’t know, god dammit - keeps talking, gesturing with his hands, but Josh’s expression makes it evident that he isn’t listening. He’s focused on you, and just like always, it makes you squirm.

Josh isn’t blinking as he approaches you, and your mind is screaming fight or flight, fucking pick one. Your heart is racing, vision blurry, and you don’t get to decide what to do or where to go or how to calm himself the fuck down because then Josh’s there, right in front of you.

“Y/N,” he whispers, his voice low enough that you have to strain to hear it over the music. “God, how’re you?”

You swallow, your throat’s somehow dry. “Hey. ‘m good.”

“You look good,” he says, like he’s agreeing.

You resist the urge to laugh uncomfortably.

“It’s been a while.” He says.

You nod back.  

You both stand together awkwardly for a moment or two, Louis doing his best not to stare at the new tattoo on Josh’s forearm. You don’t know what it is or when he got it. The pounding in your temple intensifies.  You look up and attempt to match Josh’s gaze, but it’s hard.

“So, who’re you here with,” you ask. You try to come off as casual but you know it sounds weak. “Anyone I know?”

Josh shrugs, looking back over at his group. “I don’t think so. Some guys from tour.”

“Oh.” The band starts up another song and you have to close your eyes. This one hurts. You do your best to block it out. “You’ve been good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he replies. He looks down at the floor when he says it. “Been busy.”

“I bet.  You’re a proper rockstar now.”

He smiles at that, a full blown smile, and you have to grip the brick wall behind you to remain standing upright. You’re seen that smile so many times - over breakfast, in bed while you trace lazy shapes across Josh’s skin, visiting family, shopping at the center, listening to music at this same fucking venue for this Goddamn shit band - and you’ve been missing it for four months, so much, you think you could start shaking.

“Yeah,” Josh says eventually, gaze back on the floor, “I’ve been trying.”

You hum, flicking your hair out of your eyes.

You want to shout. This isn’t what this should feel like. You shouldn’t be strangers.

You hardly notice when the band wraps up their set and the lead singer hops off stage.  You’re mostly focused on Josh’s eyes, Josh’s lips, Josh. The noise level quiets immediately, the crowd starting to flood out onto the street, and a knot forms in your stomach when you see one of the guys from Josh’s group gesturing at him to come with.

“Listen, Y/N,” Josh starts, and you put your hand up.

“I gotta go,” you say. Your voice sounds unfamiliar, even to yourself. You can feel yourself starting to unravel. “You take care.”

You watch Josh’s face fall, his expression unreadable. “Alright. You, too.”

It’s extreme to say you feel like you’ve just been tortured, but your entire body aches and your head is pounding and if you stop moving for long enough, you’re going to have to bend over and throw up right on this street. It’s still raining - harder than before - but you make no attempt to hail for a cab. Instead, you walk the entire way home, each step away from Josh ripping you further and further in two.  

You don’t bother taking off your soaking wet clothes before collapsing onto the couch in a puddle of tears.  Your sobs wrack your entire body, making you heave and shake and shiver.  

You’re in the middle of your breakdown when you hear a knock at the door.  You don’t bother asking who it is - though you really should - before pulling the door open.

“Hi,” Josh says, rocking back and forth onto the balls of his feet.

You stare back, heart hammering in your chest. “What’re you–”

“I can’t stop thinking about how much I hated tonight.”

You feel your face burning. “Josh…”

“You looked at me like you hated me,” he continues. “Or didn’t know me. I don’t know which one is worse.” He pushes in through the entryway like he still lives here, like he gets to make himself at home. “I miss you so fucking much, I feel like I can’t breathe half the time.”

The door slams shut behind you and you wince. You can’t form words, just murmurs, “It’s not, I’m…” You make a face. “Josh, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Josh drags his fingers through his hair, clearly frustrated. “I want you to say that breaking up was stupid and that you miss me, too, and we’re done fucking around. That we’re doing this for real this time. No backing out. I’m in this. I’m never going anywhere again.”

“Jesus.” Josh’s staring at you in that intense, soul-baring way of his, and you feel dizzy. “But you–”

“I know,” he interrupts. “What I’m saying now is I’ve missed you every single day for the past four months and it’s not getting any easier. It’s gotten worse . It’s…” Josh takes a step forward to circle his hands around your wrists, and just that minimal contact has your eyes tearing up. “It’s hell, is what it is. We should never have done this. We should have worked through it.  I shouldn’t have pushed you away or gotten distant. I’m tired of not arguing with you. I’m tired of being tired. I’m tired of missing all the things I thought I used to hate but as it turns out, those are the things I love the most. I don’t care about the band anymore.  None of it means anything without you.”

You don’t try to shake Josh’s grip away. It feels so easy, this. Too easy. Like it always has been until suddenly, it wasn’t. You don’t say anything, though, just let Josh keep touching you, staring at him.

“Y/N,” Josh whispers eventually, thumbs brushing against your wrist bones. “Am I completely out of line. What’re you thinking?”

I love you, you think. I love you and I don’t know how to stop. “I’m thinking…” you pause to swallow. I’m thinking that I hated being apart from you. I’m thinking that I miss having all your clothes lying around. That I miss your shampoo and drum set and dirty dishes. That I miss waking up with you. That nothing feels right anymore and I don’t know how to fix it. “I’m thinking that I can’t believe you saw me drunk and soaking wet in the bar, and that was the moment you decided you couldn’t get over me.” It’s not what you meant to say, but you somehow already feel a million pounds lighter.

Josh huffs out a laugh, his shoulders slumping. “You looked like my Y/N.”

You try to roll your eyes, but instead, you find yourself taking a step closer. “Unbathed and shit faced drunk?”

“Beautiful,” he corrects simply. “Just. Everything.”

“Are we really gonna do this again?”

“If you’ll have me,” Josh says quietly. “God, I hope you’ll have me.”

You’re already nodding. “The right way this time.”

“Whatever way you want,” Josh confirms, already pulling you into his arms. He buries his face into your neck, his breath hot against your skin, and you start to feel yourself unravel, yet again. This time, it’s okay.

Josh leans back after a minute - maybe two, maybe 10, you can’t tell - and doesn’t say anything else before he dips in to sweep his lips across yours. It’s unbearably sweet, achy, almost, and your hands are trembling against his back before you can figure out a way to stop them. Josh doesn’t mention it, just deepens the kiss, hands sliding down to your waist.

You really want to ask a thousand questions, want to sit and talk and reassure the finally lessening pain in your chest. Wants to make sure you’re both on the same page and that you’re both ready to work through this, to save what you couldn’t lose again. But then Josh is murmuring promises against your lips, his fingertips hot against the small of your back where your shirt has risen up, his body and voice so familiar that you can’t think about anything else, doesn’t want to. Instead, you force yourself to pull back, slides your hand into Josh’s, and guides him to your bedroom without another word.

You wake up in the middle of the night with a kink in your neck, your body angled awkwardly all night as the result of Josh laying pressed up against you, no room to breathe. But for the first time in months, it doesn’t feel like you’re suffocating.

Mischief Managed

Request: Anon asked ‘Can you do a Loki x reader where he comes to her after the events of Thor 2 and she has to keep the secret about his “death”?’

Pairings: Loki x Reader 

Warnings: Slight mentions of abuse (might be triggering), some fluff (of course!) and a teeny weeny bit of angst

Word Count: 2000 words

Characters: Reader, Loki, Thor, Avengers (mentioned), Nick Fury (mentioned)

Summary: The reader was a victim of family abuse and one day she is saved from her drunk father by Nick Fury himself and he tells her that a great mind like hers could come in handy and offers her a position at SHIELD. Everything goes great till Loki’s attempt to take over the world with the help of the Chitauri where the reader gets captured by him.

A/N: Thanks for the request anon! I loved writing this as Loki is one of my absolute favourites! Hope I didn't disappoint and that you enjoy!

Originally posted by lokitty

Out of all the things that intrigued you, the one that you thought about the most was the fact that Loki never held you under his mind control. Yes, he was harsh with you but he never let his sceptre touch you. Though that did not stop him from ordering you around and getting you to comply to his wishes. You had absolutely hated him and he was often annoyed with you. You never failed to back-answer him and defy his every command. But instead of getting more infuriated, he started getting amused at the thought of a mere human being able to defy him and not cower away. But you had had enough abuse from your dad to learn to stand your ground with other men.

But Loki was different. Behind the tough exterior shell, he was actually a broken man on the inside. You didn’t even need to use your experience as a psychology major to figure that out. Loki was scared and unsure. You could see that he still cared for his brother and that there was something - or rather someone - else who was pulling his strings.

Keep reading

Bloodlines - Part 3

A/N: Based off of the song “Heathens” by Twenty One Pilots, this will be a multichapter fic with either a lyric being a chapter title, or the headers to break down the thought process of the chapter. None of the lyrics are mine, and they are all in bold - Again, I do not claim to own them, all credit where credit is due.

I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.

Word Count: 1,488 (Not including lyrics.)

Warnings: Talks of the Hale House Fire.

Beautiful people who helped me when I came to them with this crazy idea and said to run with it: @wheresthekillswitch @obsessed-withthe-hales @aworldmadeforme @life-what-life-i-dont-have-one @xteenwolfwritingsx

Coming back to Beacon Hills was supposed to be uneventful. Yet somehow, you are now stuck in the middle of two worlds you didn’t even know existed yesterday. Now between both worlds, but not belonging to either, you try to forge your own way, finding out that some ties are stronger than bloodlines.

Part 1, Part 2

Keep reading

Sound of Music AU - Roll Call

This delightful tidbit is where Nurse Claire (Maria) meets Captain Fraser’s (Captain von Trapp’s) seven children for the first time. ;) You can find more here


One - two - three - four - five - six. There should be seven.

Sure enough, there was an obvious space between children numbers four and five. Loud footfalls were heard as a young girl flew thru the door and skidded into position.

Captain Fraser stepped forward with an outstretched hand and eyebrow raised in silent rebuke. The girl handed him a book, her finger still holding it slightly ajar to mark her page. She made a small noise of dismay as he clapped it shut and handed it to me.

Collected Works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the spine read. A mystery lover reading far above her age group.

Having collected his contraband, he inspected his troops.

Each child had something at fault to be fixed and he corrected them without so much as a word. His eldest’s son’s posture wasn’t all it could be, the youngest daughter’s bow was coming loose from her auburn curls.

He resumed his place at my side and cleared his throat, “Now, children, this is your new nanny, Mistress Beauchamp. Ye may address her as Nurse Claire or Mistress Claire.”

Seven sets of eyes fixed on me with renewed interest, their gazes ranging from mild curiosity to downright disapproval. I swallowed hard and tried to smile at them.

Buck up, Beauchamp, the fiends can smell fear.

“Listen carefully, Nurse, so that ye ken how to call them when ye want them.” He glanced at me to admonish this before turning back to his children. “Ye will step forward and give yer name when ye hear yer signal.”

He pulled a metal whistle from his pocket and began an indistinguishable series of dots and dashes, the tone and pitch each command deafening in the confines of the room. I placed one hand to my ear as I tried to hear the names being shouted at me as the children bopped in and out of their line.

“Ellen!” “William!” “Janet!” “Brian!” “Marsali!” “Joan!”

All went according to the Captain’s instructions until we got to the littlest of the Frasers. Freckled cheeks flushed, the sweetheart stomped forward, just like her siblings, but returned to her place without a word. I caught her father’s expression out the corner of my eye as I tried to hide my smile. His slight amusement was tempered with undeniable pride as he prompted her again.

Her little chin lifted in determination as she repeated her actions, still without introducing herself. It was the Captain’s turn to hide a grin, something he did with great skill.

“Margaret,” he provided.

Little Margaret pulled a face and it was all I could do not to laugh.

Gracious, she was adorable.

He handed me something, saying, “Let’s see how well ye listened.”

The hell was I going to whistle for a child like a dog.

“Oh, don’t trouble yourself, sir. I’ll learn their names,” I tried to brush him off. “You’ve given them such beautiful names, it would be a shame not to use them.”

He sighed, obviously losing his patience with me. “Nurse, Lallybroch is a large estate and I willna have ye shouting after them like a fishmonger. Take it, the children will help ye.”

I accepted the metal tool of belittlement from him. Of course they would help me, they’d help me right out of a job. I wasn’t born yesterday.

“When I want ye, ye’ll hear this,” he continued and began another pattern of notes.

“Stop!” I cut him off. He and the children stared at me, eyes wide with surprise. “I will not answer to a whistle, sir. Whistles are for dogs and other beasts, not for children and certainly not for me.”

He gave me a cold look before turning to leave, apparently finished with my instructions. I blew a short blast on my whistle.

He may be done with me, but I wasn’t done with him.

The man froze, visibly bristling, then turned to face me.

“You didn’t tell me your signal.” I said simply.

He rose up to his full height and glared at me, “Ye can call me Captain.”

With that, he was gone. I stared out the door he had just disappeared thru and heard a chorus of giggles behind me. Maybe they were children after all. I turned back to them and they all snapped back to attention.

“At ease, soldiers.” I commanded, rolling my eyes heavenward when they immediately responded. “Now that we’re alone, could you tell me your names again? And how old you are?”

The eldest Fraser stepped forward. Her dark chestnut hair was plaited over one shoulder, her eyes flashing blue fire as she spoke. “I’m Ellen. I’m sixteen years old and I don’t need a nanny.”

I smiled, “We’ll just be good friends then, shall we?”

With a look of skepticism, Ellen stepped back and her brother, a tall and redheaded chap, stepped forward. “I’m William. I’m fourteen and I’m impossible.”

“Are you?” I laughed, “Who told you that?”

“Mistress Josephine, four nannies ago,” he answered, clearly proud of himself.

The next child, a young teen with freckles and strawberry blonde curls, moved forward, announced “I’m Marsali,” and stepped back into formation.

This one was going to be trouble.

“You didn’t tell me how old you were, Janet,” I grinned, letting her know she didn’t fool me for a second.

“I’m Marsali,” The bookworm stepped forward and shot a look of superiority towards her elder sister. “She’s Janet. She’s thirteen years old, and you’re smart. I’m ten, and I think your outfit is the ugliest I ever saw.”

I looked down at my clothes as the real Marsali stepped back in line. I knew I wasn’t wearing the latest fashion, but what was wrong with jeans and a button up blouse?

“Marsali, you shouldn’t say that.” A chubby cheeked boy between Janet and Marsali scolded.

“Why not? Don’t you think it’s ugly?” She retorted.

“Of course, but it’s not nearly as bad as Nanny Louise’s.” He explained in a matter of fact way, then stepped forward to introduce himself. “I’m Brian. I’m eleven. I’m incorrigible.”

Grinning, I responded, “Congratulations.”

“What’s incorrigible?” He asked, smiling back.

“I think it means you want to be treated like a boy, not a man.”

Satisfied with my answer, he stepped back in line and the next child stepped forward. She looked up at me shyly, motioning me to come closer. I did so and she took my hand.

“I’m Joan, and I’m going to be seven on Tuesday,” her voice was so sweet and innocent, “and I’d like a pink parasol.”

I winked at her, earning me an even sweeter smile. “Pink is my favorite too.”

Little Margaret stomped her foot beside me and I knelt in front of her. “Yes, sweetheart, and you’re Margaret?”

Beaming at me, now that we were on the same level, she held up all five fingers on her left hand. A leftie perhaps? “You’re five years old?” I feigned astonishment, much to her delight. “Why, you’re almost all grown up!”

Margaret and Joan shared a giggle, completely disregarding their former rigid formality. A look down the line told me the rest had as well. They now studied me in wary curiosity.

Who could blame them? Twelve nannies in, what, five years? That’s a new nanny every five months, on average. And hadn’t Captain Fraser mentioned that the last one only stayed two days?

“Can I tell you a secret?” I asked in a loud whisper, now that I had their full attention. “I’ve never been a nanny before.”

Janet got a mischievous gleam in her eye and I suddenly regretted voicing that thought. “You mean you don’t know anything about what you’re supposed to do?”

I shrugged, deciding to run with it since the cat was already out of the proverbial bag. “Not a thing. I could bandage a wound with my eyes closed but I haven’t the foggiest idea what to do with children.”

Brian snickered as Janet closed in on me. “Well,” she began slowly, “the best way to start is to tell Father to mind his own business.”

I tipped my head back and laughed outright. I had to admit, the idea was tempting. William eagerly hopped on Janet’s advice bandwagon as the rest of them crowded around me, “And never come to dinner on time!”

Marsali giggled, adding, “Never eat your soup quietly!”

Brian slurped loudly in my ear before practically shouting “Always blow your nose during desert!”

“Don’t listen to them, Nurse Claire!” A new voice sounded from behind me and I turned to see Margaret glaring at her siblings with all the wrath a five year old could muster, which was a considerable amount.

“Oh?” I chuckled. “Why is that?”

Throwing her arms about me, she proclaimed, “Because I like you!”

My heart felt like it was about to melt into a puddle right then and there. These children were so precious and they desperately needed the love I could give them.

I hugged precious little Margaret as a boisterous voice announced the housekeeper’s arrival. “Alright, children, ye best be off on yer walk. ‘Tis half past two an’ ye ken how yer father gets when ye are behind yer time,” the plump woman ensconced in an apron commanded as she began to shoo the children out of the room. “Dinna dawdle. Quick, quick, quick.”

They reluctantly obeyed, leaving by a door I hadn’t noticed before. The younger girls peeked over their shoulder to catch a last glimpse of me before going out and my heart skipped a beat.

“Nurse Claire, I’m Lallybroch’s housekeeper. Ye can call me Mrs Fitz, as everyone else does,” she extended a callused hand and I shook it.

“Pleased to meet you, and do call me Claire,” I requested. “‘Nurse’ is far too formal.”

Mrs Fitz shook her head, giving me a compassionate look. “If it isna formal, it isna acceptable a’ Lallybroch. Come, I’ll show ye to yer room.”

She led the way thru the door the children had exited from and I caught a quick glimpse of them as we started up the stairs.

“Poor things,” I commented quite to myself. I thought I heard Mrs Fitz make some sort of Scottish noise of amusement, but was distracted by a sudden movement in my pocket. I dropped my bags in surprise as whatever it was made a desperate attempt to flee. My hand closed around something slimy as I removed the wriggling creature and I let go of it on reflex.

A rather perturbed looking frog hopped away from my feet as Mrs Fitz spoke, “Ye got off lucky, 'twas a snake wi’ Nanny Louise.“

Older Brother Haechan

Request: heyy i’ve been wondering what if i had older brother like haechan!!! can i get oneee?? thanks and have a nice day😊💖💖

  • another older brother! post
  • it’s been long since i did one so i hope it won’t go bad ahh
  • and i think we can all agree that donghyuck would probably be the best older brother
  • okay let’s start
  • this is based on this brief post here (nct as older brothers)

  • first of all

  • he’s been annoying and disturbing you since the day you born
  • every single time he manages to come up with different pranks
  • and how to annoy you
  • like how he’d always knock on your door at night to tell you knock knock jokes
  • and stealing your things and misplacing them so he can see you being flustered
  • at first you thought he hated you because there wasn’t a day where he’d not tease you
  • but you realised he was like that to everyone
  • and you kinda got influenced because amongst your friends you’re the more talkative and playful one
  • “oh no y/n you shouldnt treat your friends like that, they’re gonna hate you”
  • “but you’re doing the same??”
  • “it’s different, they’ll love me no matter what”
  • okay but despite him being so playful, he has his affectionate and soft side too
  • and also the protective older brother side
  • he’d always stand up for you
  • and no one can ever lay a finger on you
  • calls you his child/baby
  • when he’s only a year older
  • like that one time you got punished in class for forgetting to bring your textbook & assignments
  • minutes after you see haechan running into your classroom with the exact materials you need
  • “here!! i took this from her yesterday, don’t blame her”
  • when in fact it was your fault for not remembering but??
  • haechan saved your life
  • “one week of treating me to meals you forgetful idiot”
  • is always proud of you, even though he doesnt show it
  • to you he’s all “oh please i can do better”
  • but to others and his friends “she can do it much better than me, i think i taught her right”
  • cares a lot for you and looks after you
  • but doesn’t make it obvious
  • like how when he sees that there’s only one ice cream left,
  • he throws it to you, even if he wants it very badly
  • “i’m not giving it to you because i want to, it’s because i’m nice”
  • nags at you a lot
  • “do your homework, NOW. you don’t want to fail your classes”
  • “uhm.. but i’ve never seen you ever doing your work?”
  • “rUDE”
  • “keep quiet, mark helps me out with it but if you need help you can ask me”
  • but if he needs to he can be very sweet & understanding
  • like how you always go to him when you have problems
  • he’d willingly be your listening ear
  • and he’ll try to give you advice
  • and cheer you up at the same time
  • wasn’t impressed when he found out you were dating jeno
  • “i have to deal with a boring person with my sister for the rest of my life oh no-”
  • but inside he’s also assured because jeno’s really sweet and nice to you
  • takes advantage of jeno because of this
  • “dude you’re dating my sister, we’re family now so treat me to a meal”
  • “oh you won’t buy me this? i’ll tell Y/N about you-”
  • “i don’t think she’d care though”
  • “what have you done to my sister”
  • all in all he’s super funny and great to be with
  • the one who brings so much joy and happiness to your life
  • and you know that no matter what he’ll always be there for you
  • even though he doesn’t show it often, he truly and sincerely cares!!
  • blessed to have him as a brother yes
Elevators And Interviews - Part Five

Feyre is on her way to a job interview when the elevator breaks down. An elevator with a very handsome stranger inside.

(Final Chapter)


I slammed the phone down on the desk harder than necessary, cursing as I did so.

It had been extremely difficult not to say those words to the client, who had been difficult throughout the hour conversation. It wasn’t like I hadn’t dealt with rude customers before. I mean, there was no shortage of them at the diner, but it was infinitely worse when the customer was rich and snobby, and acted like I was an idiot.

So there was one thing about this job that wasn’t great.

“I know the feeling.” Drawled a familiar voice from the doorway.

My head snapped up, and I saw Rhys leaning against the door frame.

Keep reading

Without a doubt

‘He was sick last week so don’t let him fool you when he says he can eat ice-cream’ Yoongi gives Hoseok a knowing look before turning to his son to send him a warning glare.

‘Sure. Okay, Kook let’s go’ Hoseok salutes Yoongi with a shit eating grin on his face before grabbing Jungkook in the middle and throwing him over the shoulder causing the kid to squeal happily and kick his legs against Hoseok’s chest. They leave the cafe and the moment Jungkook is placed on the ground he runs towards the swings on the small playground adjacent to the building. Jimin sighs heavily watching Hoseok run after the boy. The glass separating them isn’t enough to mute all the screaming he makes (Hoseok it is) so Jimin just gives Yoongi a silent apology.

'They’re 20 years apart but I can’t tell who’s more immature’ Yoongi shakes his head but smiles softly when Jungkook waves at him. 'You don’t wanna wait for Hoseok? We can just-’

'No’ Jimin refuses so quickly Yoongi raises an eyebrow. 'No, actually I wanna talk about Hoseok’ He glances nervously towards the playground where his beloved husband is having the time of his life with a 7-year-old Jungkook pushing him forward to swing him- a grown, 27-year-old man.

'Okay.’ Yoongi takes a sip of his coffee not hiding at all his concerns. 'You fought or something?’

'No, no don’t worry’ Jimin waves his dismissively 'I just…’ His words trail off when he watches Hoseok throw Jungkook high in the air but before he can shout in fear Jungkook’s already safe and sound in Hoseok’s arm laughing in excitement. None of them seem to give a single fuck about poor Jimin almost getting a heart attack.

'I know plastic spoons are for free here, but there’s no need to abuse them’ Yoongi breaks him out of his thoughts carefully pulling the broken plastic away. 'They have feelings too’

'He’s so irresponsible’ Jimin blurts out, just like that, ignoring Yoongi’s both raised eyebrows and slightly open mouth, staring at the scene behind the glass wall.

'So that’s what it is about’


'Jimin, seriously, why are you like this?’ Yoongi leans against the back of his seat crossing his arms over his chest. Jimin is looking away from him but the older is having none of this. 'You’ve been talking about it for years, you signed the papers a few weeks ago and you’re not going to be more ready than you are now. What’s wrong?’

'This is such a huge responsibility but he keeps acting like it’s a joke’ Jimin’s tone is sour, laced with guilt and disappointment.


I’m the one who thinks about the future, I’m the one who thinks about changing the car and doing a general makeover. I’m the one stressing over the fact that my life, our life is never going to be the same and we need to slow down and become more mature. I took care of the paperwork. It was all me.’

'But is it really because Hoseok himself doesn’t do it?’ Yoongi speaks after a few silent moments, letting Jimin catch a much-needed breath. 'Or because you don’t think he’d manage’

'Cause he never takes things seriously-’ Jimin tries to argue but Yoongi silences him with a simple move of a hand.

'It’s too late for changing your mind and you know it. But tell me, honestly, what is this that you’re really scared of?’ The silence is thick and suffocating, like a dense chocolate pudding sliding down Jimin’s throat and into his lungs. Yoongi doesn’t push him but Jimin knows that he’ll have to speak eventually.

'What if he drops him or pulls his hand too hard. What if he gives him something bad to eat or worse- forgets to feed him at all? What if he’s going to be just joking around and I’ll be alone in this mess, hyung.’ Yoongi catches Jimin’s hand laying on top of the table when the first drop falls down with an inaudible splash. 'I love him but I’m not sure if this is what he wants’

'What are you saying…’

'He’d do anything for me, I’m sure of it’ Jimin sniffs quickly averting his eyes from the playground. 'That’s why I’m not sure if we both want the same thing’

'Now this is just pure bullshit’ Yoongi squeezes his hand supportively handing him a napkin to get rid of the tears. 'Jimin, everything is going to be fine. Trust me.’


'Have I ever disappointed you?’ The older gives him a pointed look.


'Exactly’ Yoongi lifts his chin with a finger, smiling at him softly before turning the younger’s head towards the playground just when Hoseok throws Jungkook forward like a sack of potatoes. Jimin is already standing up when a pair of arms appear from nowhere catching the kid mid-air before he could crash his head on the ground. He gasps gripping the edge of the table until his knuckles turn white but then Yoongi touches his wrist making him jerk in surprise.

'I know that you’re scared’ Yoongi starts pulling Jimin down onto the seat. 'I know that you start doubting him but trust me, I went through the same’ Jimin watches as Taehyung pushes Jungkook onto the pile of sand next to the swing, much to Hoseok’s amusement, before laughing himself. If not for Yoongi who’s still holding his wrist, he would run over to check if Jungkook’s injured and to yell at the idiots for acting like- like… Like idiots. But Jungkook screams in happiness, throwing sand towards Taehyung, towards Hoseok and he looks so carefree-

'It’s going to be fine. I promise’ Yoongi squeezes his hand one last time when Taehyung pulls Jungkook into a loving hug which of course the kid rejects, pushing and whining at the amount of love he’s receiving from his other dad. And Jimin catches himself locking eyes with Hoseok who waves at him with all his body, screaming and making stupid faces before sweeping Jungkook off his feet again.

'I hope so’

'Babe, stop pacing around. It’ll be fine

Two months later Jimin finds himself threading paths in their living room like a madman. He can’t calm down his nerves, not when today is the day. But of course, Hoseok acts like it’s nothing telling stupid jokes and asking Jimin to stop worrying like it’s that simple.

The adoption center they chose accepted their application two years ago and since then, they’ve been waiting for a chance to give one of the children a new home. And the chance showed up half a year ago when the center decided they fit all the requirements. After endless meetings with the adoption counselor and hundreds of conversation with the psychologist, they finally officially could adopt a child.

They saw the boy already, of course, but always from afar, always through the separating glass. The counselor was here yesterday with all the needed papers to sign, with the last tips and that’s all. That’s it. The center offered to bring the child themselves so Jimin can’t wait to hear the knock on the door as much as he’s terrified to finally hear it.

But the moment comes quite quickly, the sound of knocking resonating loudly in the unnaturally quiet house. He feels like ice got into his veins making him freeze in place, unable to move. Hoseok giggles causing Jimin to furrow his eyebrows in worry before standing up and walking towards the door. The next 30 minutes is a blur, with the counselor talking and talking and for the first time, it’s Hoseok who’s doing the speaking and listening and Jimin’s just standing there, frozen and scared.

And when another woman gets in, holding their baby in a carrier they bought, Jimin is speechless, breathless and he can’t believe it’s happening. But then all the worries come back when the woman pulls their baby out and turns towards Hoseok. Jimin knows his husband has the same right to hold their baby first as much as Jimin has, he knows that it’s probably because he’s standing closer to the woman but he still can’t help but feel like it should be him. A million thoughts run through his head. What if Hoseok holds the boy wrong? What if he bursts out in laughter? What if he throws him in the air like he does with Jungkook and drops it and-

Hoseok takes the baby from the woman, cradling the little boy in his arms with such tenderness and delicacy, his hands forming a perfect shape to hold him. Jimin hears the muffled voices of the women, hears Hoseok saying something but all he can see is how perfect Hoseok looks with their baby in his arms. And then it’s silent again, the room empty except for Hoseok and the little human in a white little blanket. Jimin can’t take his eyes off the sight in front of him.

Hoseok started to sway gently from side to side, the motion slowly putting both Jimin and the baby to sleep. His husband places a weightless kiss on their son’s forehead, the smile on his lips widening when he pulls away.

'Baby. Come here, you’ve been waiting for so long’ Hoseok quietly calls him, bringing him back to reality. It takes Jimin a short moment of hesitation before his legs warm up enough to let him move forward but when he finally does, he almost runs. He knows he’s crying before he really feels it but he also knows that’s not entirely because of the fact their baby is finally with them.

'I’m so sorry’ He buries his face in Hoseok’s neck, biting his lip to prevent himself from whimpering too loud afraid to wake up the little miracle.

'What?’ Hoseok turns his head to the side, pressing hot lips to the crown of Jimin’s head. 'What are you sorry for, silly?’

Jimin doesn’t answer right away, cursing himself for ever doubting Hoseok. Blame it on fear, hormones, bad weather but he just can’t understand how he could think Hoseok would not be a good, the best father for their baby. Yes, he’s annoying and loud and laughs at everything but he also knows when to be serious. And this is one of these moments.

'Nothing. Nothing at all. I love you. I love that you’re my husband and that you’re in this with me’ Jimin kisses Hoseok’s neck, wraps an arm around his waist to take a look at their son.

'Of course, I am’ Hoseok furrows his eyebrows in confusion, pressing his forehead to Jimin’s temple. 'I love you so much, Jimin’ Gently pulling away he turns to face the younger. 'I’m sorry I got to hold him first. I know how much it means to you-’

'Don’t be ridiculous’ Jimin shakes his head but takes the baby from Hoseok when the older motions for him to do it. He holds the baby close, nuzzling his nose into the fluffy blanket.

'Yoongi talked to me’ Hoseok says but there’s no bitterness in his tone like he just states the obvious.

'He did?’ Jimin feels himself getting pale, the guilt freezing him in place.

'Yeah’ Hoseok nods running a hand through Jimin’s hair. 'What did you expect from my best friend?’

'I’m so sorry’

'No. It’s fine. I know how I am most of the time’ He smiles gently kissing Jimin on the mouth. 'But I promise you, I’ll never hurt our baby and I’ll never hurt you. Intentionally at least’ Jimin sighs.

'I know. Of course, I know this. I fucking married you after all’

'Yeah, yeah you did’ Hoseok grins and all the worries, all the stupid thoughts Jimin has been having for so long, disappear in this single moment. Kneeling in front of the carrier, he puts their baby inside giving him a kiss on the head.

'And I’d do it again’ He says quietly turning to his husband, his lover and his friend.

'Without a doubt’ Hoseok winks playfully leaning down to kiss Jimin breathless.

Hello. I’m back with this fluffy puffy shit. 

Hush (Part Two)

Barba x Reader
Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven

You sit up on the bed abruptly, startled by the loud vibration coming from the wall behind you. You rub your eyes trying to get used to the noise combined with the sunlight slipping through the curtains.

The vibrations were so fierce that it made your watch move across the bedside table. When the drilling stopped, you hoped that meant that they were finally done. The clamorous sounds were replaced by the harmonious chirping of robins on the other side of the window.

A sound you very much preferred.

You pull the soft sheets to cover your body, suddenly mindful of the quaint chilly air. You slowly slide back down on the bed, eager to rid your thoughts of the interruptions to your sleep.

The moment your head touched the pillow, however, the drilling noise had returned, seemingly louder than before. You lifted the blanket so that it covered your head, and groaned in irritation.

“They’ve been at it for two days.”

You lowered the blanket just enough to peek at the person next to you. Rafael’s eyelids remained closed, making you wonder how long he had actually been awake. He craned his neck slightly, and interlaced his fingers before placing them on his abdomen. You smiled at the small shimmy movement he made to try and make himself more comfortable.

Clearly you weren’t the only one in denial about not being able to sleep a bit longer. Not that it surprised you. You were almost sure even Rafael could not remember the last time he actually slept in.

Rest would be good for him, you thought, as you took mental note of the dark circles under his eyes and his hollow cheeks. You survey the stubble that decorated his jaw, a pleasant combination of dark and gray hairs that grazed your skin when you kept your bodies wrapped against one another.

You move closer to him to place a chaste kiss on his bare shoulder. A part of you still questioned this reality; lying here by his side, waking up to the sounds of construction work together. You wondered if you were being too bold, and if you were jinxing it if you admitted that this was beginning to feel like a perfect morning?

Keep reading

Run To You // Sam Wilson x Reader P3

Pairing: Sam Wilson x POC Reader
Word Count: 2k+
Warning: fluff, language, angst, abuse mentions, violence (justice) , FEELINGS

Summary: Andrew finally gets what he deserves. Steve makes a mistake. Healing from psychological trauma is always a lot easier said than done, but your newfound family makes sure you know you’re not alone. 

A/N: Holy hell! You guys are absolutely fantastic with your feedback! I can’t believe you like this so much!  This is probably going to end up have way more than 4 parts lmao. I cannae be stopped.

Inspiration: “In Repair” ~ John Mayer

Too many corners in my mind,
So much to do to set my heart right.
Oh, it’s taking so long,
I could be wrong, I could be ready.
Oh, but if I take my heart’s advice,
I should assume it’s still unsteady.
I am in repair…I’m not together but I’m getting there…”


Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Naruto, Sasuke and Shikamaru headcanons on how they would act when their s/o leaves on a particularly dangerous mission and after few months without news, they receive something like confirmation that you died (I'm sorry for such a sad request, but i really want some angst)

So I wrote this last night, and I literally found out my grandmother pasted away this morning – it’s just horribly ironic. She had been having heart complications for eight months before it got the best of her. But now I’m powerless to do anything since I’m four hours away from their home and I start college tomorrow. So I’ve trying to cope with it all day so far, but this whole headcanon really spoke to me on another level when I re-read it and I feel like it’s broken my heart. :(

It was a good ask though anon, and I did enjoy doing it yesterday a lot. Thank you. ~Admin Shadow

How Naruto Would React to His Partner Dying

  • When Naruto first heard the news, he would be consumed by anger. He would be upset that he wasn’t there to save his s/o – in his heart he knows he could have stopped it all from happening. Naruto wouldn’t want to blame anyone for what happened, but he would definitely confront the people who were in his partner’s squad and ask them how they could let this occur. He would probably listen to them, but he just couldn’t fathom how something this tragic could happen to someone he loved so dearly, the first step to grieving for him would be anger and frustration.
  • After a day or two he would probably calm down, but no amount of friendly support would really help him cope in the beginning. Naruto would probably cry privately about it a lot and if his thoughts drifted to them in public he would have a hard time keeping it together. Nothing would look as cheery and joyous as before, even ramen wouldn’t have the same flavor if he wasn’t eating it with his s/o. His happy attitude would probably be stifled for months, and it would take him a year before he could bring himself to actually smile and mean it. 
  • Naruto would be very loyal to the memory of his deceased partner. He wouldn’t try and replace them because Naruto knows he couldn’t. He would just begrudgingly try to accept the fact that they no longer are in his life.

How Shikamaru Would React to His Partner Dying

  • Shikamaru would probably just stand there wide eyed with his jaw open in disbelief. His mind would probably be racing through all these terrible scenarios of how things played out – and how he could have stopped it from happening in the first place. Shikamaru would be in shock for a few minutes, before he would start to cry and try his best to pull himself together.
  • Grieving silently is Shikamaru’s way of trying to cope. He would bottle up all his anguish, anger and frustration for a week before he just couldn’t take it anymore. It would probably just take some tiny incident for him to just snap and start sobbing uncontrollably. He probably would compose himself again in an hour after a good cry. Shikamaru would try his best to accept things – even though moving on would seem impossible, but he would make a sad attempt.
  • He would never be the same person, and for months he would he depressed and carry so much guilt in his heart because he should have been there for his partner. I don’t see Shikamaru as the type of person who would find someone else either, he just wouldn’t want to try a second time for love. For him all that effort to possibly have his heart broken a second time just wouldn’t be worth it.

How Sasuke Would React to His Partner Dying

  • Sasuke would openly deny it at first, to him it would be a bold face lie and he might even get insulted by the accusation. Not until he was presented with some proof would he realize it had some merit. He would definitely be shocked about it and wouldn’t even know what to say.
  • He would probably cry about it privately a few times, but he would quickly accept it as a reality. It wouldn’t be beneath him to hunt down the person who was responsible for his s/o’s death – getting justice is very important to Sasuke. For him any form of retribution would bring him very close to consolation.
  • There would never be another person Sasuke would really love again. He wouldn’t see the point in getting attached to anyone else – the thought of losing another lover just sours his desire for anything romantic and intimate ever again.