i hope i tagged all the tws

I was tagged by @bucknat thanks, pal ❤ 

 rules: answer the questions and tag seven people! 

 a character/characters you hope gets more screen time: RHODEY (pls)

 character you’ll miss: Whichever heroes die in infinity war (x2 lmAO) 

one death you would like to see: tbh I can’t think of any! 

one death you would hate to see: y'all know this but if tony stark dies, I WILL RIOT 

a storyline you like: I rly liked the im2 storyline and ca: tws in particular! 

a storyline you don’t like: ok no hate I loved the movie, but marvel could have done a better job of making civil war a lil more cohesive and also conclusive at the end

a pairing you hope to see more of: u can always hit me up with that stevetony but tbh i am also here for pepperony (especially after that last part of homecoming MAKE IT HAPPEN MARVEL) 

something you would like to happen: for all of my beautiful children to survive the mess that will be infinity war & also for marvel to release the trailer

I’m tagging: @infinityparker @quillpete @howlingbarnes @futurist @spideypooly @likespidey @agentholland (y’all don’t have to do it though)

petrichordiak  asked:

can i hear more about the class you hijacked? (this doesnt have to be private)

I actually got out of bed just so I could go full rant about this on my  computer, so y’all buckle up (thank you for giving me this opportunity lololol)

Okay, so this happened about a year, maybe a year and a half ago. I’m gonna go ahead and make this one public for the benefit of those that didn’t follow me back then, if that’s cool.

Let me preface this by saying that I had taken literally every one of the professor’s classes before then. Partly because they were the only anthropology style class the uni offered, and partly because halfway through the second class I realized that literally everything was the same, except the books, which we never used. Even the assignments were the same, and I had perfected a system of how to do those quickly, easily, and last-minute, lol. So it was pretty much the definition of an easy A, and the prof liked me bc I was nice, actually listened to her even though I’d heard it all before, and didn’t rat her ass out for not actually teaching what she was supposed to, lol.

I should’ve known right there.

So when there was an opportunity to take a Native Americans in North America class with her, I jumped on it. I needed the hours, I obviously knew a lot on the subject already, and it would be another easy a, if history was anything to go by. 

It became one of the most frustrating classes I have ever taken.

As always, the class started the same as the others. We started out learning about vocab and models. NBD, we’d get to specifics eventually, right?

Now there are about 16 to 18 weeks in your average semester.

By week 6 we had yet to learn anything about Native history. She’d assigned some reading about the moundbuilder’s archeological sites, but nothing about the modern day. Maybe she was just taking it slow, I thought, though I was bothered by her only talking about Natives in the past tense. But she’d told me in the first class I’d taken with her (years ago by now) that she was enrolled Native, so I didn’t call it out immediately. 

We get to week 8, halfway through the semester, she hadn’t covered anything. No mention of treaties, modern movements for civil rights, AIM (American Indian Movement), the illegal overthrow of Hawai’i, buffalo kill offs, smallpox blankets, Chicago museum’s bullshit, NAGPRA (a law protecting grave sites and demanding the return of remains to their Nation by museums and sites, if the Nation will accept them (sometimes they allow the remains to be housed by the museum bc they’re typically more secure there, but that’s very rare)) beyond how it affected archeologists, the different regions, the language families, ghost dance, the flooding of lands by companies illegally, human zoos, RESIDENTIAL SCHOOLS, THE FUCKING TRAIL OF TEARS, NOTHING.

Like your 4th grade history segment, as racist as it probably was, probably was more informative than this bitch was being, okay? And I was getting mad. Y’all know me. Native activism is a huge part of my life, and has been for years. Students were being allowed to say really racist shit unchecked. The prof wasn’t teaching jack. Misinformation was being spread, even by the prof.

It felt like even in a class dedicated to us, we didn’t matter. Our history didn’t matter. 

I was fed up.

Then, she pissed me the absolute fuck off. She proceeded to spend the rest of the class talking about South America.

Now, our Indigenous family below the equator absolutely deserve to be discussed. They have so many issues that really, really need to be boosted and respected. We do not raise their voices often enough. But this was a class specifically about North America, and her reasoning for making it otherwise was racist in so many ways.

First, she changed the curriculum outside of its scope because she was “MORE INTERESTED IN SOUTH AMERICA, AND WOULD HAVE TO DO RESEARCH TO TALK ABOUT” the issues I was publicly demanding to know when she would cover. As if her personal interest and ignorance were more important than our lives. 

(side note, it turns out she was lying about being enrolled and Native. Her white supremacist brother (not even kidding) had said that a Cherokee woman chief in Minnesota or some shit had enrolled them. I asked her if she meant Wilma Mankiller, the first modern female Cherokee chief. She said no, it was someone else, and in the late nineties, after Wilma would’ve no longer been Chief. I publicly called her out, and even another student jumped in to help, because there was no other woman Chief then, and there was no recognized Nation that far North. Her white supremacist brother had lied bc he felt othered while working near the Din’e on a job site, bc they didn’t include his racist ass, lol. So she’d lied her way into being allowed to teach a class she didn’t even know or care about. So at this point, I was fucking done with her, lol)

She also was showing us old propaganda films, and literally every group she discussed was being painted as ignorant, warlike savages by her and the materials. She even defended a man that intentionally exposed Indigenous peoples with no immunity to certain diseases to said diseases ‘just to see what would happen.’ She recommended his books, including ‘Noble Savages’ to us. I shouldn’t have to explain why that’s racist, lmao.

All of this is to say that I was VERY fed up, she (and the class) was VERY racist, and she was going down.

Then her foolish self decided to assign a massive project where we were supposed to ‘teach the class’ about a Native subject (y i k e s, esp. since the class was full of non-Natives). Since I was Fed Up, I decided to skip the usual schooling on cultural appropriation to instead teach everyone (including her) about just a smattering of the important things she hadn’t even mentioned in passing. :)

What followed was a 33 page powerpoint.

Apologies for any inaccuracies, and blanket tw for slurs, racism, death, csa, torture, child abuse, etc etc etc

(I added all the regalia pics bc they made me happy and calmed me down, which I was gonna need. I set the presentation up as “Man, I sure had trouble deciding what to make my presentation about. Should I talk about X? Y? Z? This? That? This? And so on until I reached residential schools and Reconciliation as my discussion topic.)

I hope those gifs work. If not, they should be under my “Oka Crisis” tag, or “n i fn a history” and “n i fn a protests” tags. I also had decided early to use the Nations actual names where possible.

Oh look, a quick and easy way to make people realize THIS IS WHY YOU DON’T FUCKING REFER TO US AS SLURS, and here’s how to discuss the issue without being additionally harmful.



Getting progressively angrier at this point. The class is smart enough to stay silent.

#MMIW #NoMoreStolenSisters. Please bring them home. Whatever it takes.

Stayed on this slide juuust long enough to stare each person in class down.

Oh look, we’re finally hitting my actual topic. Again, shit’s about to get very heavy. Please read only if you can. I will not be glancing over these to check them rn, bc I can’t. I’m sharing just for y’all to see, and hopefully reblog to educate people.

I honestly wept as I worked on this part. I can’t read it again.

Calling it out.

AYUP. Canadians are so nice and their government isn’t problematic at all

There are survivors that are my age, and younger.

Not letting them forget that this isn’t just in the past. It still wounds us.

It still hurts. We’re still recovering.

I included resources for them, including the prof, to actually educate themselves, since our school sure as shit wasn’t going to do it.

A handful of my sources.

Anyways. I was done. So fucking done. She (the prof) still tried to guide the class back and pretend that it was acceptable that she hadn’t taught them anything. I didn’t let her. I reminded them all that the only reason that this was Canada focused was bc they’d just had the Truth and Reconciliation reports, whereas the US government hasn’t put any effort into assembling data on their atrocities. Go figure.

Anyways, happy #Canada150 everybody :)

OK to reblog.


Prompt: ANONYMOUS: Request for hamilsquad x reader where one of them meets the reader at a coffee shop and kinda flirts with her asking her out and then tells her about the open relation ship a few weeks into there relationship and asked them if they would like to join them and the reader is really shy and has horrible social anxiety and is really worried about messing everything up (because this is aka me 24/7)
Pairing: Mostly John Laurens X Reader, but also Poly!Hamilsquad X Reader
TW: angst, drama, mild swearing, mentions of bigotry and intolerance, drama, self depreciating thoughts, social anxiety
A/N: Hey guys! I’m really excited about this piece! I’m sorry for any typos; I pulled an all nighter to write this, so my brain is a bit fuzzy. I really hope y'all enjoy this! I did my best! If you want me to tag anything, please let me know! I want you to feel safe when reading my work! I love y'all so much!!!! Please enjoy!
Word Count: 10755

You liked to live by your aesthetics. You went to used book stores downtown, took polaroids of old buildings, went out of your way to a quaint little coffee shop for the feel of it. After you had gone to the bookshop, it was a habit of yours to go to the coffee shop, buy a warm drink, and read your book at a table near the window. You usually made the trip on a rainy day, for the aesthetic. You used old Polaroids as bookmarks and you wrote comments or thoughts in the margins of your book with a pink pen. The light chatter of background noise was soothing as you reread one of the Jane Austen’s. It was your first copy, therefore the most beaten up. You had always been a romantic, probably for the aesthetic. Which came first? Did your aesthetics extend from your romanticism, or did the romanticism stem from your aesthetics? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that you loved the idea of love.
You were deeply engrossed in your book when you heard the sound of the chair across from you being pulled out. Someone sat down, but you buried your nose in the book. What would Elizabeth do? Would she accept Mr. Darcy’s love? Of course, you knew the answer, but you read the book each time like you had no idea. You just hoped that your guest would get the hint and leave you to read.
“Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice that you’re reading Pride and Prejudice,” a smooth voice commented, and you glanced up at the boy. Your breath caught when you saw how cute he was with his curls and freckles. You almost shoved your nose into the spine of the book in nervousness. You knew you should probably say something, but you didn’t wanna mess it up. What if you accidentally offended him?
“Um, Yeah?” You managed to squeak out, and the guy smiled. He leaned closer, as if to get a peak at your face, but you were quick to bring the book back up. You fiddled with one of your polaroids to calm yourself.
“I think Mr. Darcy is a pompous prick that nowhere near deserves someone as well thought and versed as Elizabeth,” the boy stated bravely, and your switch flipped. You didn’t know how to talk to strangers about the weather, but you knew how to talk books, especially if you were defending one of your favorite romances.

Keep reading

Let Me In (1/?)

Summary: You are a new addition to the Avengers, and have only ever seen your teammates with their walls up. However, one by one they slowly start to let you in, and you finally see them as human.

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this for so many reasons! I wanted to make a series about the reader’s platonic relationships with the Avengers and figured who better to start with than the hero who’s been getting quite a bit of hate lately. I have ideas for other characters, so just let me know who you’d like to see next! Thanks for reading!

Warnings: mild language (h-e-double hockey sticks folks), insomnia, panic attack

Tony Stark (Natasha Romanoff Part 2)

Originally posted by luvindowney

You never thought a compound full of enhanced individuals could seem so spooky at night. Maybe it was the unfamiliarity of the place, but your nerves were definitely on edge.

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You're All I Want - Derek Hale

Relationship: Derek x Reader
Warnings: mild swearing, cheating
A/N: sorry this took me a bit to post. I got busy with some stuff and didn’t have the time to write. I hope you enjoy it! also, probably my shortest imagine yet. I’m really sorry about that, I’m trying to overcome a bit of writers block, but I hope it’s still decent.
Request: Prompts 20, 43, 70. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”
“Hey, have you seen the..? Oh.”
“My ass?”
Word Count: 695

You grumbled lowly to yourself as you searched through the house. You’d been looking for the tv remote for what felt like hours, but had only been a few minutes. You’d checked everywhere. In the couch cushions, on the table next to the couch, under the couch, in the remote holder - where the remote should have been in the first place. Everywhere you looked, and every time you saw no remote, you fell even deeper into despair.

Deciding to give up on your search tactics, you settled on asking Derek if he’d seen the remote. You knew he was in training, but this episode of Friends was just taunting you to be watched.

You made your way through the loft, into the same room where Derek and the pack always trained.

“Hey Derek. Have you seen the…? Oh.”

When you walked into the room, you’d found Derek and Braeden (who Derek had said was supposed to be Lahey) kissing. You could see his arms on her shoulders, gripping tightly, and her hands were tangled in his hair.

“What the hell? Derek, you said you were training with Isaac today. Not training sucking each others faces off with your ex.”

His mouth opened to say something, but no words came out.

“You better come up with an amazing excuse, Derek. Or you’ll be a sorry, sorry boy.”

“I’m a grown man. I’m not a boy.” He smirked.

“Grown man your ass. You’re acting like a boy, same difference.”

“My ass? Y/N, it’s ‘grown man my ass.’”

You responded with an annoyed eye roll.

“Derek, I just walked in on you kissing another girl while dating me. Now is not the time to be correcting me.”

He purses his lips, thinking about what to say.

“She kissed me. I would never do that to you, Y/N.”

“Oh c'mon Der, you know you wanted it. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.” Braeden winked at him from behind, and ran her long lacquered nail down his bicep.

“Are you serious right now? You’re flirting with my boyfriend when I’m standing right here? Back the fuck up, or we’re gonna have some serious problems.”

Derek smirked, chuckling and shaking his head. He took a few steps towards you, stopping once you were just a few inches apart, and leaving a chaste kiss on your forehead.

Even when you were upset with him, you still managed to go to putty underneath his touch. Every little but of physical contact made your heart rate pick up and your knees to go weak.

“That’s my girl.” He rasped, snaking his arms around your waist. “I promise you Y/N, I did not kiss her. You just walked in at the wrong time, and I promise you I was fighting back. She means nothing to me. You’re all I’ve got my eyes out for.”

“Der, come on. We could have so much more fun. You know that I’m so much better at turning you on than she is.”

Derek stepped away from you slowly, before racing over to Braeden. His hand found its way around her throat, gripping tightly.

“Braeden, get the hell out of my house, before I make you. And don’t come back.”

Her eyes went wide, and she jutted out her bottom lip in a god-awful pout. Before she could open her mouth to say something else, Derek shouted another demand in her face, his words booming off the walls of the loft.

She scurried out of the room after that, leaving the house as fast as she possibly could. Derek ran back over to you, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulled you into a passionate kiss.

“Now, what was it you were looking for?”

A Soulmate to remember chap 7

A/N- Hey guys! Just wanted you to know that my request box is open and empty

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5Chapter 6

Tags: @welcometothecity, @miss-nerdalots,@marvelsimaginess, @naturalnation123 , @suavehayes (let me know if I missed you/you want to be tagged) so I can add you to the list! Hope you enjoyed!

TW: Churches? Otherwise, none

Y/N- Your name 

L/N- Last Name

Word count: 1,863

You were sitting in an extra little sitting room, and You had just finished checking up on all of your college classes, and making sure you had completed all of the homework, when your mother let out a shrill call, “Y/N- phone!”

“Make sure you don’t listen in this time,” You call back a you reached over to the still-operable landline- that your mother refuses to get rid of -with your free hand. I pick it up and press the button, “Hello, Y/N L/N speaking.”


You immediately stop typing on your laptop and set it aside on the couch, “Jason! How are you, I saw a little bit of the situation on the TV - are you okay?”

He seemed taken aback for a moment, but cleared his throat and said, “Yeah, Yeah, a little bruised up, but I’m fine.”

You let out the breath, “Good, good, I’m glad, I knew you could probably take care of yourself, but still.”

Jason was silent for a moment, and you didn’t know wether to break the silence or wait until he felt like talking, and before you could make your decision he spoke, “So, I, uh, found your cellphone today.”

You blinked in surprise, “Really? You did? I ah, mean Thank you, but, uh, when in the world did you find time to find it?”

Jason was smirking, you could tell by his tone, “Oh, just found a little time, no big deal. When can I get it too you, I figured you need it.”

You nodded, “yeah, say I’ve got work in the morning, would you like to come with me to-“

The phone started ringing and You muttered under your breath when you noticed it was your boss, ‘hey it’s my boss, I should really take this… could I put you on hold real quick?”


“Thanks I’l make it quick, I promise.”

You quickly put Jason on hold before accepting the call from your boss, Steph who is quick to ask, “Oh, my gosh I saw on the news about your Uncle’s party- are you okay?”

You laughed, “Yeah Steph, I’m fine, just surprised you haven’t asked yet.”

Steph squealed, “Oh- M-Gee, about Jason Wayne meeting his soul mate, I was gonna, do you know who the mystery woman is?”

Keep reading

Please Don't Fall For Me Like That...

Prompt: Reader goes horseback riding with her S/O’s and her grandpa, but it goes awry.

Paring: Poly!Hamilsquad X Reader

TW: swearing, falling off a horse, shy and self depreciating thoughts, fluff???

A/N this one’s a bit longer and there’s some horse riding jargon in there. I hope y'all enjoy it! Thank you for all of your love and support! I love you! If you want me to tag anything, let me know. I want you to feel safe when reading my work! Please enjoy!

Word Count: 4530

Early in your relationship, you had convinced the boys to go horseback riding with you. It wasn’t a Herculean task considering that they already knew how to ride horses. They were just concerned about your safety. Your boys had a bad habit of treating you like a fragile flower. You wanted to be a giant, mean cactus, not some frilly, pretty little thing.
You had called your grandpa, who owned a considerable amount of land and horses about a hundred miles away, and he offered to let you guys stay with him for a few days. Your grandpa was the dad you needed when your own father couldn’t be. Your grandpa knew about your relationship, and although he didn’t always understand how things worked, he accepted and supported you. If you were happy, so was he.
You’d grown up riding, so you knew what you were doing. You’d been riding as long as you could walk. Your grandpa was the one that taught you. When the boys and you first showed up, he already had the horses saddled and ready in the yard. You squealed as you jumped out of the car and threw yourself into your grandpa’s arms.
“Well now, did you have a nice trip?” He talked slow and low, not exactly a drawl like John had, but nowhere near the speed that your Alex spoke with.
“Of course! I’m so happy to see you! How’ve you been!” You pulled away from the hug, and he put his hands on your shoulders to calm you down.
“I’ve been doing fine. Lemme help y'all with your bags and-” he began to move forward to help unload, but you put your hand on his chest.
“No, no, it’s fine, we’ve got it,” you insisted. He wasn’t weakened by age, so you knew he could handle it. This was the same man that swung fifty pound saddles around, worked with cows at a rodeo site, and casually fell off horses he was training in his free time… but you still worried about him.
“Can I get y'all anything? Some water? Maybe some watermelon?” He began to move towards the house, and you followed him this time. “I’ve only got two spare rooms, so I hope that’s okay…” he glanced over at you, unsure, but you gave him a reassuring smile. While it wasn’t ideal, it was a first world problem, and it wasn’t a big deal.
“Can we eat some watermelon before we go?” You weren’t hungry, but you couldn’t resist an opportunity to feed the rinds to the horses. He went over to his fridge and pulled out a container of cut up watermelon. He tossed it on the table he had built himself, then put some paper plates by it.
“Y'all just go ahead and help yourself,” he added as he walked across the kitchen to his coffee maker. His cowboy boots clopped on the floor. He poured a cup of coffee and handed it to you, and you thanked him. “You’re gonna have to introduce me to these boys of yours, miss Y/N.”
You grinned at the mention of them and dragged him by the arm to the spare rooms. You’d decided on the way up that you’d take turns. The bigger bed would have Hercules in it as a permanent figure, and the smaller bed would have either Alex or John as a permanent figure. Alex and John would take turns so that they could also sleep with Herc. The first night was Herc, Laf, and you, with Alex and John together in the other room. You personally didn’t think they should be left alone together, but whatever. They were grown men, they should be able to handle themselves.
When you entered the bigger room, you saw that Herc was busy depositing some bags in the corner of the room. He turned around when he heard your grandpa’s boots.
“Papa,” you started, and Herc’s face lit up at how adorable the nickname was, “This is My boyfriend Hercules.”
Herc held out his hand, “It’s nice to meet you, sir! You can call me Herc.”
Your grandpa shook his hand, before Laf came in behind you.
“Wow, ‘Erc, ‘ave you seen the… the… carriage in the garage?” Laf was overjoyed by the fact that he saw a life size carriage.
Your grandpa laughed, “This must be the French one, uh, Laffy?”
You snickered before you corrected him, “Lafayette, but close.”
Your grandpa smiled and tipped his cowboy hat. He liked living the cowboy aesthetic. “I’ve heard a lot about you, young man. And that down there is a buggy, but thank you for the compliment.”
“It is no problem! Did you make it? C'est très grand et magnifique!” You smiled and grabbed Laf’s hand, wordlessly reminding him to speak in English.
“Thank you, that’s very kind of you to say,” your grandpa seemed flattered and shy. He was always bashful when it came to compliments.
“-LAURENS YOU KNOW I LIKE THE LEFT SIDE OF THE BED!” You heard Alex shouting from the bedroom next door, and you groaned. So much for them being grown men. You stomped over to the next room and scowled at them as they swatted at each other.
“THATS NOT WHAT YOU WERE SAYING LAST NIGHT!!!” John had shouted back before he grabbed Alex’s ponytail and yanked on it.
“You little motherfu-”
“Alex!” You scolded him before he could curse in front of your grandpa. The two stopped fighting and turned to look at you, both of them flushed. “Stop acting like children! What would Washington say?”
“Washington isn’t here-” Alex began, but John kicked him in the shin.
You turned to your grandpa, who had joined you in the hallway. “Papa, this is Alex, and this is John. They’re trouble makers.”
Your grandpa just laughed, “Farm chores are a good cure for that out here. We’ll put 'em to work!”
You grinned evilly at the two, warning them to behave. You followed your grandpa into the kitchen, and you began to eat the watermelon while he sipped his coffee. The boys joined you, and soon, you had several rinds to feed the horses.
“Well, are y'all ready to go riding?” Your grandpa asked as he placed the empty mug in the sink. You nodded and quickly slipped your boots on. You knew the drill. You went outside with the rinds you created, the spring door slamming shut behind you. Your grandpa’s dog, Buster, trotted up beside you and followed you to the post where the horses were. You approached your horse that you knew you’d be riding, and you fed him a rind. His name was Smoke, and he was a sweetheart. He nodded his head up and down as he chewed, and you laughed.
“Hey, that’s how John eats!” Alex called out as he walked towards the horses, and you laughed. “Which one is this?”
He held his hand out and let the horse smell his knuckles as a sort of introduction before he began to stroke the horse’s neck.
“This is my boy, Smoke,” you explained with a smile as you fed him another rind.
“I thought I was your boy!” Alex pouted, and you swatted his arm.
“Alex,” your grandpa called out as he joined you by his horses. “You’ll be riding this old girl, Fancy, here. She’s a stubborn one, so you’ll have to keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t eat too much.”
My grandpa brushed the palomino’s neck affectionately as she rubbed her nose on the post. Alex grinned and began to feed her rinds.
“Y/N, if you wanna go ahead and get your boyfriend set up, I’m just gonna take old Dealer here out into the field and warm him up again. You know how he can be,” your grandpa said as he untied the dark red horse from the post and led him into an open lot. You did know how Dealer could be. He liked to give everyone a show of him bucking and kicking before he’d let anyone ride him for the day.
You went over by Alex and watched as he wrapped the lead rope around the saddle horn then braced his horse. He did a few hops before he pulled himself into the saddle and grinned down at you. “My lady!” He mocked as he tipped a fake hat, and you giggled.
You heard a commotion and looked over to see that Dealer had already started bucking as your grandpa made him run circles around him in the field.
“Damn,” Herc commented as he came outside and put his arm around you.
“Do you wanna ride that one?” You teased, and he smirked at you.
“I don’t know, do you think he’s as wild as you are?” You felt your cheeks turn red and shoved him away from you. He chuckled before he pulled you against him into a hug.
Your grandpa had texted you when you were planning the trip about which horses he thought which boy should ride, so you knew the plan. “Herc, if you wanna go ahead and get on, Lobo’s your horse.”
You pointed at the white horse, your original boy, and untied him from the post as Herc gave him a rind. He was quick to fix the reins and climb up, and he leaned down to give you a soft kiss to the cheek before he urged the horse towards Alex, who was already trotting Fancy across the yard.
Lafayette came out next, his hair up in a bun, and he had on a pair of riding gloves. He looked so cute! He came over to you, completely disregarding the animals, and instead pulled you into a kiss. It took you by surprise, but it was nice. He tried to deepen the kiss, but you pulled away. You didn’t want your grandpa to watch you make out so soon. He laughed as he pecked you on the lips again.
“Mon ange,” he mumbled, nuzzling your neck, and you bit your lip. Laf was the most affectionate out of all of them, and while it was endearing, sometimes it was really embarrassing. Like when he did it in front of your little, old grandpa.
Before he could make another move on you, you cleared your throat. “My grandpa wanted you to ride Frisky. She’s a little crazy, but we figured you could manage since you’ve got so much riding experience.”
“Yes, I do have a lot of bareback experience,” he growled against your neck, and you blushed furiously.
“Laf!” You scolded him, causing him to breathily laugh. “Not in front of my grandpa!”
He groaned and pulled away. You shoved him towards Frisky and turned away from him, hiding your blush. You focused on John, who had been outside for God only knows how long, petting Buster. You smiled to yourself at how adorable he was. And he was yours.
“John, come on!” You called, and the boy looked up with a full blown grin. He dashed towards you, Buster on his heels.
“Sorry! I just really love dogs!” As if to prove his point, he gave Buster another pat on the head.
“You don’t have to apologize for loving dogs,” you shook your head. He was just being way too cute!
“Don’t worry, I really love you, too,” he added before he pecked you on the cheek. He went over to the other horse that was left, the white mare, and fed her the rinds he had.
“Her name’s Pepsi,” you murmured as he stroked her mane. Pepsi was the most well mannered out of all of them, just like John had the tendency to be the sweetest. They’d make a good pair. You watched John pet huge horse; he was in no hurry to get on. He was taking time to establish a bond with Pepsi. He stroked her fur and whispered to her. You occasionally heard him say your name, but he was speaking too low for you to hear. Finally, he climbed up into the saddle and just sat there, relaxed. Your grandpa came trotting over on Dealer with a smile on his face.
“Well, come on, Y/N!” He teased, “What’s taking you so long?”
You laughed and quickly got on Smoke, the squad quickly assembling. You ran your fingers through his tangled mane as he reached down and ate the grass.
“Well, where do y'all wanna go? We can ride down the road a ways if you want,” he offered, and you nodded. He always liked to go down the road for some reason. Your grandpa urged Dealer forward, and the other horses followed. Lobo stayed right behind Dealer while Fancy was quick to fall behind. Alex clucked and urged her, but she took her sweet time. John stayed with him on Pepsi, chatting in Spanish about something. Your grandpa chatted with Hercules, probably about building stuff. He loved to talk about making things with his bare hands. He was so cute. Laf road with you for a bit, occasionally commenting about the scenery in French to you. Smoke tripped a few times, and each time he would stumble, Laf would call out a string of curses in French, but you’d always insist you were fine. Smoke had the tendency to be a klutz.
About a mile down the road, you came to a creek, and your grandpa led the path down the rock bed. You ducked beneath some limbs and laughed when you heard Alex swearing behind you. Fancy probably took him through some thorns and underbrush. You rode up beside your grandpa while the other horses blanched at the water. Yours, on the other hand, was practically a sea horse. He went out into the water and began to splash, causing you to scream in joy. You laughed and screamed, completely careless, as you pulled your feet out of the stirrups and got soaked. Your grandpa was chortling while your boys watched, laughing. Then, your sea horse decided to lie down. You screamed at the sudden movement, your legs completely submerged, and you pulled up on the reins. He stood back up while you frowned and laughed. Your boots were filled with water. Your grandpa was cackling, your boys roaring. You took off your boots as your horse kicked up more water and dumped them out. It took the entire four mile trip for your boots to dry and everyone to stop laughing.
When you made it back to the house, your grandpa led you into one of his lots across the street and gave y'all the tour. He loved to do that. He pointed out the deer stand and talked about how many deer he’d gotten out of it. Herc listened with intent, and eventually, Laf joined in. They both engaged with your grandpa while John stayed behind with Alex. Alex was having trouble with Fancy since she kept stopping to eat. You were just kind of doing your own thing, having a chill time. You and Smoke just did whatever you wanted. You rode off from the group to the pond, and he got a drink. He stopped to eat some leaves from a tree. He just had a grand old time, and you enjoyed the peace and quiet. After a while, the men came riding up to you with a soft trot, laughing and having a good time.
“If y'all wanna canter back, that’s fine. And if you don’t, that’s fine, too. Y'all can just hang back with me,” he offered, and Alex hooted.
“Race ya, John!” He called out before he urged his horse forward. Fancy, knowing she was going back to the house, moved faster than she had in years, and John was hot on her trail with Pepsi. Hercules and Laf decided to stay back with your grandpa and continue their conversations. You were impressed. All of them seemed to be doing really well, and your grandpa really seemed to like them. You decided to go ahead and try to canter before you got off since it’d been a while since you’d been able to ride in general. Smoke had a fairly decent canter once he got into it, and he’d been really soft and smooth today. The wind had picked up, and the clouds were closing in, but other than that, it had been perfect riding weather. You urged him forward slowly, and he trotted towards the gate. You kept clucking and squeezing, but he only picked up the pace of his trot until it was jerky and awkward. Finally, you urged him forward into a canter, and you felt the wind blowing through your hair. It was exhilarating. You moved your hips in the rocking chair motion with him as he moved, feeling at peace, when he jolted sideways. Something must have spooked him, and you weren’t ready. Your entire world went sideways. You’d never fallen off a horse before. You were always good at staying on. One time, you went over the side of him and hung from his neck until you managed to stop him and climb down. But this time, you couldn’t do it. You tried to keep the reins, but you realized it was only making him go sideways and hurt his mouth, so you let go, and you fell. Hard. You rolled several times before you came to a stop, face down, in the grass. You heard someone scream your name, but all you could focus on was the pain in the entire left side of your body. You had to move though. You knew that you had to get up so that they knew you weren’t dead. You slowly pushed yourself onto your hands and knees, gritting your teeth as you clenched the grass. Why wasn’t the pain going away? You held back tears and reused to cry. That would just worry them even more. You looked over to see your grandpa running his horse as fast as he could towards you, Hercules and Lafayette flanking him. You looked up by the gate and saw Alex and John coming, your horse following them. You had to stand up so they wouldn’t worry. You got up, biting your lip, and you hunched over in pain. Your hip was throbbing. Your grandpa skidded to a stop beside you and hopped off his horse.
“Y/N! Are you okay? What happened?” His hands hovered around you, wanting to help but unsure.
“I’m fine. You know me, always a huge klutz!” You tried to joke because the amount of tension was stressing you out. Lafayette was the first by your side, his arm sliding around your waist, but you flinched.
“Can you stand up straight?” He asked you, and you nodded. It hurt like a bitch, but you managed to stand up and put all of your weight on the right side of your body. You forced a smile, and you would’ve looked fine if it wasn’t for the fact that your left leg was trembling like a mofo.
“I dunno, about as straight as you, Laf,” you tried to joke again, but no one was laughing. Tough crowd. The boys had now all huddled around you, their horses eating grass behind them.
“Is anything broken?” Your grandpa asked, and you hoped not.
“No? I don’t think so? I mean, maybe my ego, but…” you grinned, but no one laughed. If they didn’t start laughing soon, you might start crying.
Your grandpa put his hand gently on your shoulder, “Let’s get you into the house, can you back on?”
Your knee jerk reaction was to resist, “No!” But then you remembered that you had to get back on or you might never find the courage to.
“Y'all stay here, and I’ll go get the truck-” he began, but you were already being a huge inconvenience.
“No, no, it’s fine. I’ll try to get back on!” You insisted, and your grandpa seemed unsure, but you stared him down.
“Okay, get on my horse,” he offered, and you nodded. You went over to the saddle and stared. How were you supposed to do this? Your grandpa came up beside you, and you put your hand on his shoulder before you shifted your weight to your left side so that you could put your right foot in the stirrup. You resisted the urge to hiss in pain, and you hopped a few times before you pulled yourself up by the saddle horn. Your grandpa boosted you, and you slid into place, instantly wincing at how much spreading your legs hurt. You slumped forward in the saddle, babying your hip.
“I’m gonna start walking him,” your grandpa warned you, and you grunted in reply. You felt the horse start to move, and you gripped his mane as you were racked with pain. The boys resaddled and followed you guys home, Alex leading Smoke behind him. They got you to the porch, where your grandpa helped you down.
“Go ahead and get inside, we’ll unsaddle,” he commanded, and you nodded. You limped your way inside, able to walk fairly well. You went into the bathroom and went pee before you washed your hands and made the split decision to hobble back out. Pain or not, you still had to help your grandpa unsaddle. You went over to the horse trailer and took the lead rope for Smoke from Alex. He didn’t say anything, he just pecked you on the cheek. With shaking fingers, you managed to undo the saddle. The only hard part was maneuvering the fifty pound, awkward shape. You struggled to do that in pristine health, let alone with a bum hip. You pulled the saddle off of Smoke and limped your way towards the trailer, but your grandpa met you and quickly took it from you.
“Miss Y/N, I thought I told you to go inside,” he called out to you from inside the trailer as he put the saddle up.
“And what? Miss all the fun? No way! I’m fine!” Why couldn’t no one believe that?
You got some treats out of the bag and took Smoke into the chorale. He nudged you a few times before you took the bridle off. He nibbled and kissed your hand, then you gave him the treats. Once he’d eaten them all, you left and put the bridle up. John met you at the trailer as the others were finishing unsaddling.
“Are you sure you’re okay? I saw the whole thing, and it looked like you hit your head,” he murmured as he brushed your cheek with his thumb.
“I’m fine, see? I’m still alive; nothing’s broken,” you insisted, and he gave you a small smile.
“You scared the hell outa me.”
You frowned, “I’m sorry, that’s not what I wanted-”
“Shh,” he put his finger to your lips, “don’t worry about upsetting us. Let us sorry about you.”
You nodded, and he put an arm around you as support. He led you back towards the house, talking about how pretty and green the grass was.
He put you on the couch and helped you lie down. Soon, the rest of them came in, and your grandpa got you some Aleve. You popped the pills and leaned back. John sat on the end of the couch with your feet propped up on him. Alex draped a blanket over you before he kissed your forehead and sat down by Alex’s feet.
After Laf helped your grandpa fix dinner, you insisted on joining them at the table. Herc carried you in and put you down in one of the comfy rolling chairs instead of on the hand crafted wooden bench, and your grandpa scooped your food. You felt bad. He had trained you, and you let him down. His heart couldn’t take scares like that.
Laf sat beside you at dinner and held your hand, occasionally squeezing when he noticed that you weren’t eating. It was one of your favorite meals that your grandpa made, but you just weren’t hungry. You felt so guilty for making everyone worry so much.
Everyone finished and began to help clear the table, but Laf scooted closer to you and stroked your chin with his thumb before he held up the fork with a bite of food.
“You need to eat more, mon ange,” he whispered sternly, and you pouted. You knew he was right, but you just didn’t feel like it. However, John did ask you to let them worry about you, so you let Laf feed you. You complained the entire time about how embarrassing it was and that you were full. Eventually, he was satisfied by the amount you ate, and he carried you back into the living room. He sat down on the couch with you in his lap, and your grandpa came in. He turned on the news and sat down in his chair. Alex sat with your feet in his lap, and Herc and John sat together on the love seat. You scrolled through Tumblr on your phone as you all enjoyed each other’s company. Laf occasionally fussed over you and kept making you drink water. When he wasn’t pouring water down your throat, he was gently tracing the lines on your face.
“Well now, it’s getting pretty late. I think I’ll turn in. You doing okay, Y/N?” Your grandpa asked as he turned down the news and handed Alex the remote.
“Yeah, I’m sorry for spooking y'all,” you replied shyly.
“You’re okay, I’ll see ya in the morning, hun. Love you,” your grandpa waved to you before he went into his bedroom and closed the door. You called “love you” after him, and turned back to Tumblr, but Laf took your phone.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed. Sleep will 'elp you 'eal faster,” he reasoned before he gently arranged you in his arms. He stood up, and you groaned in pain. Your lack of movement had allowed everything to stiffen up, and it hurt like hell.
“I’m sorry, mon ange!” He cried out, eyes raking you for a sudden injury. “Qu'est-ce c'est?”
“I’m okay,” you grunted, “just stiff.” He nodded and slowly began to walk with you to the bedroom. Herc followed, leaving John and Alex together watching the news and speaking in Spanish. Laf put you on the bed, and they joined you on either side. Herc had turned out the lights, and he gingerly wrapped an arm around your side since your back was to him. You decided it would be the least amount of pain if you slept on your right side. When you didn’t react in pain to his movement, he let his arm rest across you, and he snuggled closer, the heat relaxing your muscles. Laf snuggled into you from the other side, his hair tickling your face, and he kissed the tip of your nose.
“Go to sleep, mon ange,” he whispered to you, and you closed your eyes.
You felt Herc press a kiss into your hair as you began to drift. “We love you.”

anonymous asked:

I take it you don't approve of Sarada's, how should I say, change of attire? (change of attire is probably the most... polite way to put it, me thinks.)

Apparently the heels were already in a promo image but it wasn’t quite so blatant so most people didn’t notice. This is such a “male gaze” shot, the implied running of the eyes all over her body. And the poses! The little hip tilt! The stare! The hand to the face, as if she’s about to, what… lick her thumb?!

I commented to @kujyou12​ back when they made a post about wondering about looking forward to Boruto:

Being hopeful for Boruto is like taking your paper cut covered hands to a lemon juice fountain and saying, “I hope this will be a good experience.


Now the only thing left to fear is how much further down the sexualizing route Studio Pierrot is going to go when they animate it, given what they did to Hinata:


Ignis is undergoing psychological training to further prepare him for the role of chief analyst and right hand to future King Noctis. This is very different from anything I’ve shared with you all! I honestly don’t know where it came from, I was reading another fic (who I’ll tag in a moment) stopped mid sentence- and feverishly began writing this. I hope you enjoy….? *gulps


 TW: Mental torture (?) Thriller. 

 Today he was in his parents’ house. The house where he’d grown up in Insomnia. His mother and father were both aging beautifully, and they welcomed him with open arms, beaming with pride at their son. 

“I’m making your favorite, my dear!”, his mom said in her usual chipper tone. “Mother,” Ignis began to protest, yet knowing all the wiser. “All these years of making me things, why not let me make you something for a change, hm?” “Where do you think you got the love of cooking from young man” she playfully retorted.

 “Yeah, let the woman alone!” his father chimed in, cracking a smile. 

 His parents. The only people he’d humor enough to let take care of him even for an instant. He did it mostly out of respect. He wouldn’t dare put up a real fight with his mother (she’d raised him better than that). 

“Father”, he nodded, finally being able to greet him while his mother was in the kitchen, humming to herself as she prepped the kitchen. 

“Come sit with me, my boy”. He gestured to the seat next to him on the couch, his words, full of warmth. Ignis joined him, his chest tightening, swelling with love for the man he hoped to be half as great as one day. His father took his hand, simply beaming at his boy, and the man he’d become. It was softer than Ignis had remembered, his grasp lightened with age. 

“Ignis, i’m so very prou- 


 Ignis’ heart shot out of his chest, the following scream he heard could only be that of his mother. He whipped his head around to reveal that she was trapped under part of the roof that’d come crashing down in the explosion. Shots rang out from overhead, and flying Niflheim tanks littered the sky. 

“We’re under attack!!” Ignis ran towards his mother who lay on the ground, oven mitt still on her hand. Another shot rung out crashing through the living room when he heard his father shout in agony. He was hit, and was bleeding from the gut. 

 “Ignis, sweetheart!” he heard his mom pleaded with him to help her. 

“I-ignis…” his father managed to mumble, blood spurting from his lips. After a moment’s hesitation, the cinematics slowed around him, waiting for him, allowing him time to make his choice. 

“I- I…” he looked down at his mother cradled in his arms. 

“STASIS”, he yelled. A wreck, and shaking. His mother disintegrated in his arms, and the room reset to it’s default of sickly white, with slightly flickering fluorescent lights that only added to the abysmal mood of the room. 

 “Mission objective: f a i l e d”, rang through the room. A different tri-tone voice came over the loud speaker, preceded only by the sound of a button being pressed, followed by a faint crackling silence. 

 “You’ve now exhausted your hault stasis for the month, Mr. Scientia.” 

“I know”, he said. Slumped on the ground where the image of his mother lay dying before him was, not only a minute prior. “I know”, he repeated. This time, defeat hung on his words. Anger building where fear had been, he began to kick himself internally for being too weak, too indecisive, and too slow to complete the mission. That was the third time he’d been unable to complete his Rapid Deduction test. He knew he needed work in this area. Hostage Negotiations VR had been relatively smooth, and gone without a hitch. Same goes for Strategic Planning VR, but his Rapid Deduction reasoning brought him to his knees every time. 

How was he to know which life he should save? His mother or his father. Who thinks about that kind of thing? Except, he knew the answer. It was him. He was expected to think of these things, to test him, and his mind. To make life changing decisions at a moment’s notice. 

 “That’s…enough, for one day” he finally said, bringing himself up to his feet. He heard the sssshhhhss sound of the air tight lock release on the sliding doors, and he left the virtual reality room without a second glance back. Tomorrow would be another day. Who knows what the scenario would be, but tomorrow, he’d be ready. 

Sometimes he wished his strength lie in the physical realm like Gladio. He has it so much easier. Physical labor- he’d take that any day, over his plot. Lift 1,000 lbs total, a day? Sure. Anything to escape an instant of the mental torture he’s put through. Similar to physical strength, he knows mental strength builds over time. “It’ll come”, he whispers to himself, walking to his car getting ready to drive home. “But i’m going to have to increase my stamina, and to do that i’ll need to be alert, awake, and at pique functioning capacity”.

 The next morning, he set out for his usual coffee place. “Ah, Mr. Scientia! Room for cream and sugar? Same as always?” chirped the cute barrister, brown ponytail bobbing.

 He paused, deep in thought.

 “Just black- thank you”

 “Ohh, something new today, I see?” she giggled. “Alright-one ebony it is! You betchya- coming right up sir” and she bounced away to prepare his cup to go.


 The tri-tone voice came over the intercom again (if he ever found out which of the Kingsguard was behind the two way glass..he’d..he’d…. )

He was never able to really finish the thought, seeing as he couldn’t really do anything to the Kingsguard, but if he could..it woulda been something bad.

 “Shall we begin again, Mr. Scientia” the familiar tri-tone voice rung out through the intercom, filling the VR room. Ignis met the voice with silence.


 “Shall we begin again, Mr. Scientia.”

A bead of sweat dripped from his forehead, and landed on the ground. How long had he been watching his loved ones die at this point. Three? Four? Five hours? 


 The press of the button filled the room, followed by the predictable crackling white noise, and the tri tone voice once more.

“Shall we begin again Mr. Scientia.” Ignis exhaled sharply through his nose, his hair clinging to his forehead, matted with sweat. His shirt, soaked through, revealing the muscles of his lean torso, and his heaving chest.


Noctis had been knocked unconscious. Gladio’s pelvis had been crushed by the red giant and he was now bleeding out from the massive wound. If Ignis could just get him the high elixer in time…but Prompto can’t survive against the giant foe for long on his own. He’s wasted too much time in thought. 

“Mission: F A I L E D”

 There had to be a way to save them both. There had to be. What was he missing, what clue was he missing. He knows he needs to move faster. No- think faster. Each time he tries to save them both he’s met with the same outcome. 

 “Mission: F A I L E D”

 Hot tears begin to cloud his vision, his eyes, feral, darting from one friend to the other. Wetness leaves his eyes having to watch his friends cry out for his aid and die over, and over. This simulation…it was becoming too much for him. He felt his mind begin to seer, and bubble underneath his skull.

 “I CAN’T”, his eyes going wild behind his glasses. “You bastards. I know you can hear me!”, demanding that someone from behind the double glass, covered by the running simulation have mercy on him.

 “Someone” he pleads. 

 Click. The tri-tone voice came over the intercom. 


 Mustering all the composure he had, and speaking through gritted teeth, eyes fixed on the floor “If…I could only have a glass of wat-”

 “Shall we begin again, Mr.Scientia” the tri- tone voice rang out once more. He wished desperately he’d not used all his halt stasis for the month. Gods, did he need them now. A soft “yes” managed to escape his lips. The words heavy with defeat did not carry far, and were almost immediately lost to the vast space of the room. 

Click. “Shall we begin agai-” 

“YES!!” his fists slammed into his legs in a hot fury. “YES. For Gods sake, yes.” Click. “Composure, Mr Scientia” the trill tone voice rings out, monotonously. 

Ignis, takes his glasses off and rubs the bridge of his nose, clenching his jaw together. He unbuttons his shirt, sweat pooling in the nook of his collar bones. “Proceed” he says sternly. A newfound determination, forming within him. He could save Gladio, but would he be happy without his lower body? Would he be able to find new meaning in life, no longer being able to live up to his father’s legacy? His entire family’s legacy? No. Ignis decided, you just can’t be sure. You can’t make decisions by what people might do. To save Gladio would mean leaving Prompto, who was basically a civilian. Not just any civilian. He just so happened to be Noctis’ closest friend. Ignis thought back, his mind racing, deducing, cycling through possibilities and probable outcomes of his actions in his mind’s eye. When Prompto had joined them in training for fun, he’d needed help on ¾ of the missions. That’s a 75% chance that he can’t survive without the assistance of at least one other person. Ignis’ eyes were darting around from Prompto, to Gladio who was in desperate need of that high elixr, back to Prompto, who couldn’t last much longer on his own. How would the King survive without the company if the one person who keeps him grounded? Prompto’s friendship is paramount to Noctis’ mental stability. Amicitia is of nobility though. His family, and his purpose practically bred into his DNA to protect the king, to train him, make him stronger. Gladio is an indispensable resource just with knowledge of combat alone, Ignis thinks. Noctis needs Gladio’s knowledge to be able to protect himself. 

Friends come second to the will of what the burden of the throne commands. 

 “Iggy, man! Prompto’s needs help! Ngh-” Gladio’s eyes rolled back in pain. Ignis turned away from Prompto. 

“I-Iggy? Iggy, buddy! Iggy!” Prom screamed, desperately trying to bring his friend back to his aid. Ignis’ choice marked the point of no return. He could feel his heart, ripping in two while he administered the high elixr to Gladio, only to be met with, “What in the Gods name is wrong with you! I could have handled this pain! Prompto! Ignis-” Gladio yells through his tears, “Prompto is dying!”

Red Giant still at large, Prompto laid on the ground, having suffered a final rib crushing blow to the chest. His eyes glassed over, a vacant expression on his face, mouth slightly parted, a tear falling over his star dusted cheeks and Ignis broke.

 “Objective: c o m p l e t e” rang through the room as it reset to its standard sickly white walls, and flickering fluorescent lights. He’d watched the look of betrayal color his friend’s eyes as they died by his actions a thousand times. A thousand times he’d have to choose what life to save, and when. Calculating who survives and who doesn’t if the time came down to it, and weighing one against the other. 

 Regis or Luna.

 Luna or Noctis.

 Prompto or Luna.

 Gladio or Iris.

 Iris or Prompto.

Time after time he’s met with incomprehensible combinations of loved ones. His heart shredding apart with each simulation. He learned not to show emotional weakness, and keep up his prim and proper image in the presence of others. If he couldn’t keep himself in check, how would he ever be able to keep the affairs of a king in order? Before long, he’s mastering almost any scenario, achieving the best possible outcomes, despite seemingly insurmountable odds. His training served him well throughout his journey with Noctis, Prompto, and Gladio on their way to the wedding in Lestallum. Ignis managed to keep the group alive, through otherwise fatal encounters. “Iggy!”, the prince would say, having exhausted all his resources. “I’ve got just the thing!” he’d reply, coming up with the perfect remedy in the heat of battle to defeat whatever foe blocked their path. During the fall of Leviathian, he’d been tasked with evacuating the citizens as quickly as possible. In the stampede of people rushing through the flood gates, a mother and her three children were making their hasty escape, her arms already already tied with two infants, her 5 year old had no choice but to run by her side. However, the influx of people managed to separate her from her oldest child. What’s worse, is that Niff soldiers were descending on the crowd, and the child found himself face to face with a Magitek trooper in the chaos.

 Ignis protested against his automatic thoughts, that were saying self preservation over the lives of a civilian. No. This is wrong. He thought. This is wrong. He managed to force one leg in front of the other, bursting into a sprint, his nerves on fire in rebellion against his conditioning. Mission failed rang through his mind at a maddening pace growing louder in his mind the closer he got to the child, when soon his mind’s voice was screaming MISSION FAILED. He didn’t care, this wasn’t a VR mission. This was real life. 

He pushed through his thoughts as he pulled the child to safety, he felt the slice of white hot iron to eyes. He’d been struck. 

 “Thank you! Thank the gods for you!” the mother managed through her sobs, clinging to her child. “Thank the gods for you! Thank the gods for you!” she said to Ignis, while littering her son’s face with kisses. His knees gave way, and he was taken under by the searing pain as his body met the blackness of the asphalt. 

His final thought before succumbing to the pain- objective complete.

Billowing Smoke

Hamilsquad x reader where they have been friends with the reader since they where kids and the reader slowly starts to grow more distant until she kinda disappear for awhile and they get worried so they stop by her home and they knock on the door and she refuses to let them in telling them she’s fine and after a while of them persistently begging to be let in she finally opens the door and she stands there with a black eye and covered in bruises cigarette burns (her boyfriend had been using her)

Pairing: starts out as Charles Lee X Reader, IS REALLY POLY!HAMILSQUAD THOUGH, BLESS TF UP

TW: Abuse, violence, description of blood, beatings, domestic abuse, verbal and emotional abuse, cursing, death of a character, reference to sexual assault and rape, smoking

A/N: hey y'all! I hope you enjoy this piece! I know I didn’t follow the anon completely, and I’m sorry, I got carried away with my writer’s brain. I tried my best, and i hope you love it! Thank you for all the requests! I’m doing my best to keep up! If you want me to tag something, please let me know! I want you to feel safe when reading my work! I love you!

If you need help, please reach out. My ask is always open, tell someone you trust, or call a hotline! I love you, and I want you safe!
Hotline for Victims of Sexual Assault: 877-995-5247
National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-7233

Word Count: 2498

You never bruised easily. You fell out of a tree in the fifth grade and damn near broke your body in two. A week later, you had a small, purple bruise on your hip, but a fairly bad limp for two weeks. You knew people that bruised like melons, but you weren’t one of them.
You were standing on the balcony of the hotel floor for a smoke, black, thick curling tendrils that snaked up into the cold night air. You had on a man’s white dress shirt, clumsily buttoned, and no pants. Your hair was in the messiest bun yet. You leaned on the railing and looked out at the stars. You used to love them. Now, they just reminded you of smoldering cigarette butts and dead dreams. Disgusted, you looked away. You put your cigarette out on the metal railing, a satisfying “tsss” sound reaching your ears. You reached into your thong and pulled another cigarette and a lighter out from the band. You lit up and kept smoking.
Across the parking lot, you saw four figures get out of a car. You’d never been good at identifying cars. All you knew was that it was black, and it looked like a box.
They made their way across the lot, and you watched them, mildly disinterested. They climbed the stairs, level by level, and when they didn’t stop, you felt your stomach clench with uneasiness. You didn’t remember four boys on your floor.
You held your cigarette away from your mouth between two fingers as you watched them approach you, the dark shrouding them completely.
Then you heard it. It was a quiet whisper, barely carried on the wind, and delicate like a butterfly. “Y/N?”
The boys reached the top and froze, down the walkway, staring. You knew them, and you felt shame burn your stomach.
“Y/N?” John whispered as he was the first to approach you. He reached out for you, but you cringed away. His eyes were filled with tears. You put the cigarette out on the railing again, letting it fall to the cement below. John caressed your face, turning your face to his, lightly running his fingers over your bruised and swollen cheek. “Sweetheart… Why didn’t you tell us? Why didn’t you let us help?”
You turned from him, unable to meet his eyes, and the others had slowly flocked around you. There was no escape, you realized.
“Where’s that son of a bitch? I’ll kill him!” Herc shouted, his hands clenched, but you shook your head with a small smile.
“He’s not a problem anymore, Herc. I promise,” you felt your lips curl upward, then winced at the twinge of pain you received.
“Don’t lie for him, Y/N! This has to stop!” Alex spoke up, then he noticed you shivering. He shrugged off his coat and draped it over your shoulders. You hugged it around you as the boys stared you down.
“Well?” Alex persisted, and you shrugged.
“If you really wanna see him that bad…” you mumbled before you led them to your room. You unlocked the door with the key and shoved it open. It was a small room, but it got the job done. The chair was overturned. The bed was nicely made, though. The small, wooden table was in splinters. The curtains were drawn tight over the nice view. A lamp was knocked over, and the bulb was shattered. The room had a safe to keep your stuff safe in the corner. Your bag was sat on the bed, but some of your clothes were in tatters on the ground. There were soothing paintings above the bed.
“Where is ‘e?” Lafayette questioned, speaking up for the first time.
You led them to the bathroom door, and knocked lightly. “Sweetie?” You called, then knocked again. “Charlie?” No reply. You smiled shyly to the boys before you opened the door and turned the light on.
You had taken the liberty of some light remodeling. The tiles were red… the sink was red. The toilet was red. The walls were red. Everything was red. It was a good accent color, after all. In the bathtub, you had placed a nice accent piece to bring everything together. It was your ex boyfriend! Well, what was left of him.
“Mon Dieu!” Laf cried out, and he covered his mouth in horror. Herc had put an arm out in front of the other boys, as if to protect them from the scene.
“Y/N,” Herc whispered, “What have you done?”
You grinned at him before you turned the lights off and shut the door, blocking out the scene from the obviously traumatized boys. “Only what I should’ve done from the start.”

It had started simple. You guys had been arguing. He had come home late again that night, smelling like he’d drank the bar. You were sick of it. He’d slurred his words, called you a slut, and you wrote it off that he was just drunk. When he hit you the first time, you wrote it off that he was just drunk. He repeatedly apologized. He bought you nice things. He treated you better than he ever had. When he hit you the second time, you wrote it off that he was just drunk. He desperately pleaded you not to leave him, promising to change, to stop drinking. And he did.
He stopped drinking, but that made him worse. He’d lash out, shove you against the wall. The sex was rougher, and he demanded it more often, but he still brought you roses and gave you sweet kisses.
When he slammed you into the wall by your throat, he was sober. Later that night, he cried at your feet and told you about how he was abused as a child. He begged you to stay, and you willingly ran back into his arms.
He got angrier, beat on you more. He’d slap your face and pull your hair. He’d throw you on the ground and call you a whore. But he’d still cover it up with tender kisses, holding you until you fell asleep, and those sweet lies of love. So you stayed. You stayed, and you loved him.
He started to use you more. Even when you didn’t want sex, he’d come knocking. He started to carry scissors with him. The next day, he’d mutter a sorry and hand you a bag of new clothes. He didn’t say “I love you” as much as he used to, but you knew he still cared for you.
When he put his cigarette out on you for the first time, you thought you were going to pass out. You’d never experienced a pain like that before. Your own screams were all you could hear. He told you he was sorry and brought you a bag of ice from the machine down the hall. He held you while you cried.
One day, you woke up, and you asked yourself, “What happened to me? How did I get here?” You were covered in bright red burns, dark grey ash, crusty crimson blood, and swollen purple bruises. You didn’t go to work that day… And you got beat for that, too.

You had grown up with the boys, inseparable since high school. College didn’t come between you. You still managed to keep in touch. They’d always tried to ferociously protect you, almost to the point of overbearing. John punched Thomas Jefferson in the nose when he tried to ask you out junior year. Herc was supposed to deliver James Madison’s love letter to you, but instead, he threw it away. They didn’t think any man in the world deserved you, and you let them hear about it. Maybe that’s why you waited until you were in love with Charlie to introduce him to the boys. And of course, they didn’t like him. Alex said he was too quiet. John claimed he lacked bravado. Lafayette complained about his lack of passion. Herc mentioned his cowardice. You declared that you loved him. The boys disapproved. They said they loved you better than he ever could.
They made Charlie uncomfortable. They excluded him, and they were openly judgmental about his flaws. They were unafraid to make an alphabetized list of all his shortcomings as your lover. You told them to shove it up their asses. Slowly, you stopped taking Charlie out with them, embarrassed that your friends could be so cruel. He was grateful, since he had been pleading with you to not be around them so much.
Charlie would complain when you’d come back after being around them, saying that you acted differently. He said they changed you, made you worse, and he didn’t like it. He wouldn’t always hold you as tight on those nights, and eventually, you stopped going out as much.
They had noticed that you were wearing more clothes than usual. They noticed the long sleeves and heavily applied makeup. They commented on it a few times, but you were as defensive as a rabid dog. They didn’t want to get bitten by you again, so they stopped asking. However, when Alex noticed the bruise on your hip when you bent over to pick up the keys you’d dropped and your shirt slipped up, he asked you about it. Of course you lied. Of course you played it off. You loved Charlie, and he had said he was sorry.
The boys had noticed you become more distant, and they took note of how you didn’t like being touched anymore. You used to love Herc’s hugs, but now, every time one of them reached for you, you jumped out of your skin. And it broke their hearts. They began to wonder if you didn’t like them anymore. When you started to dodge their calls, they gave you space.
They still worried about you, and they stopped by your hotel room when you were in town one night with a few packs of beer, but you didn’t even open the door wider than a crack. You wouldn’t let them in. They begged with you, pleaded. John cried, asking you to please not turn them away. You promised you were fine. Over and over when they begged to see you, you said you were fine. You wanted space. You needed time on your own. You were fine. Fine. Fine. Fine. It was hard for you, but you shut the door on them as Charlie shouted for you from the kitchen your hotel suite had. You couldn’t let them see the black eye you were sporting.
When Peggy ran to their apartment with smudged mascara and a runny nose, screaming about the bruises on you when she accidentally walked in on you in the bathroom one day, they immediately rushed over. Charlie had moved the both of you all over, city to city, never in one place long. It kept you isolated and vulnerable. They went to your hotel a few cities over, desperate to check on you. You had to be okay. They blamed themselves for not seeing the signs, for being blind. They should’ve beaten the shit out of him when they had the chance. When they came up the stairs and saw your marred body, their hearts broke, and you just smoked your cigarette because it was your fucking life. It was your reality. You lived that shit every day, and for you, it was just another Thursday night.

This trip had been different. You knew that. Charlie was angrier, antsier. He had slapped you around in the car more than usual on the ride up. He was rougher with you, his hands like sand paper and his lips like a soggy ash tray as he grabbed you by the hair and tasted your skin. Maybe you didn’t love him anymore. You were too scared to leave though. He always did love to remind you that you could never do better.
You thought of the puppy love you two had shared. The tender kisses. Hand holding. Love letters-they were still sweet even though Alex felt the need to mark them up with a red pen, commenting on every mistake, and inevitably giving them all failing grades. You had been so in love. But now the seasons were colder, the sex was rougher, and waterproof makeup didn’t hold up as well as you had hoped.
He threw you down on the bed, slapping you around. He spit on you at some point. “You never fight back, you little slut,” he had said. “You enjoy this.” Hit after hit. “Maybe this time, I’ll just fucking kill you. You know, maybe then you’d shut your damn mouth, and I’d be able to love you.” He threw you to the ground and went to take a shower. Your mind was blurry. You were afraid for your life. Charlie was never good at bluffing. When he’d played poker with you and the boys a million years ago, you could always tell when he was shit talking. Now was not one of those times.
You grabbed the scissors from the bag and followed him into the bathroom. He’d never hit you again. He’d never hurt you again. You were leaving him for good. You’d make sure that piece of shit got what he deserved.

It had been two years. The body was long gone. No one missed the piece of shit. Your wounds were healed, faded scars on your body. You still had nightmares. You’d bolt up in bed, screaming and sobbing, fighting to get him off of you. Herc would grab your thrashing frame and hold you against his chest until you calmed down. Lafayette would whisper in French to you, calling you sweet names like “mon ange” and “ma chérie.”
John would braid your hair for you, knowing it calmed you down, when you’d had a hard day. Sometimes, something would trigger you, but he knew how to handle you. He’d kiss you on the forehead and hold you until you rode out the panic attack, talking to you about small, seemingly meaningless things, wiping your tears away with his fingertips.
Alex showered you with love letters after he’d shouted “let me show you how it’s done” and picked up his pen. Love letter after love letter with sweet, clever words that filled your mind and soul to the brim. He also wrote you spicy ones, but those you kept in a separate drawer.
Your boys knew you had needed time, but they’d never stopped loving you. They had told you that no man would love you the way they do, and maybe they were right. No man loved the same way. But you loved the way they loved you. And the only time they put their hands on you was when you had verbally asked and consented for it. They loved you the way you deserved, not just the way you needed. And it was enough.

  1. Anonymous said: About that last LGBTQ+ post you made, I really feel you. As a young asexual biromantic girl, I was so happy to go to my first gay parade, and it turned out to be an almost traumatic experience. Drunk men and women both were hitting on me, making body contact with very few clothing items and when I said if they can stop, as I have a boyfriend and I am ace, they were like “Why do you say you are part of our community if you are straight, then? You are not welcome”. -continues-
  2. Anonymous said: I know I’m not gay, but I am not straight either! I’m a biromantic ace girl and the fact I have a boyfriend doesn’t make me straight! I was also told my LGBTQ+ local community I’m homophobic for not wanting to go to a pride again, since it was awful for me. But apparently I’m homophobic. Idk, it’s sad because it seems that the same way white feminists don’t understand the oppression black girls face, gays don’t understand the oppression other queers face. - continues -
  3. Anonymous said: Gay parades are apparently only for gay people (and sometimes trans), and, people in general, be it gays, white women, or else only understand the oppression they themselves face. Of course this doesn’t apply to everyone, but I think it applies to most people. Idk it just makes me angry I’m not welcome neither in straight places, neither in queer places and that even oppressed people only care about themselves. Sorry for the rant.

Can I first just say how sorry I am that your pride event experience was ruined by those people? I mean, the one space, the one event where you’re supposed to feel safe and welcome, and they completly trashed it with their bullsh*t. I’m especially disgusted by the outright disrespect for not only your sexuality, but the blatant disregard for your personal space and comfort. Furthermore, ignoring your requests for them to stop? Un-f*cking-believable . 

And the thing is, I see/hear about this a lot. Especially from, as you’ve noted, certain white gay folks who act like anyone not them can’t be included. My god do I see this a Loooooot. I also hear the whole: ‘What? You don’t participate in such-a-such event or speak out at rallys or speak for the whole community? WELL YOU’RE HOMOPHOBIC!’ Which is just utter and complete nonsense to begin with, but is also completly ignores anyone with a disability, social anxiety, fear for their life due to dangerous environment, children, people with PTSD, people with traumatic experiences, etc etc etc. 

The whole concept that one can ‘own’ and control the entire LGBTQIA community, and therefore commands who can stay and who can go, needs to be thrown in the trash. People need to stop this. 

I’m sorry, again, anon. I hope any future endeavors are safer and more welcoming to you. I know it’ll probably take time, or some pointy elbows and a pissed-off-cockroach attitude, but I really do hope things improve. 

And, even as only one member of this vast community, I absolutely welcome you with all my heart. 

DO NOT re-draw it, re-post it, copy it, remove the watermark, or steal it in any form. Please respect that I worked hard on this drawing.

Sooooooo, after a request from my best friend Tahlia, (dylan-obisexual) , I have made sterek paperchildren! This is the first piece of Teen Wolf I’ve done, so I really hope that you all like it!
Please let me know what you think, and if you print it off make sure to post a photo and tag me in it! :) xx


I got carried away ahaha… But welp @puppy-eater here you go!

A Couple Questions- Scott McCall Imagine

Requested! (LIKE FOREVER AGO) “Can you do a Scott McCall imagine and the reader and him are dating and she’s a youtuber and they do all different types of challenges like the yoga challenge and the boyfriend girlfriend tag?

Sorry it took FOREVER and I know it’s awful, but I hope you at least enjoy it  a bit!

Originally posted by tweenw

“Oh my gosh Scott, the video of us doing the yoga challenge has already reached over 200 thousand views” you exclaim. Your vlog has taken off over the past few months and now has over 500 thousand followers. Three days ago you and Scott uploaded a video together doing a yoga challenge in which both of you did insanely hard yoga tricks together. There were some that you must admit, that were considerably easier for the two of you to do because of Scott’s several werewolf abilities.

“Babe that’s so awesome! You’re practically famous” he jokes.

“Well I couldn’t have done it without you.” You grab your laptop and walk over to Scott and show him numerous comments left by your followers. “And it looks like I have an idea for my next vlog, but I’ll need your help.”

“Depends on what it is” he says.

“It’s called the boyfriend tag and in it I’ll ask you questions about our relationship sent in by fans.”

“Sounds fun, but what happens if I get one wrong” he questions.

“Well technically we don’t have to do anything, it could all just be for fun… but knowing us we wouldn’t enjoy that. So let’s think of something” you say a bit mischievously.

“I don’t like the sound of this” Scott says hesitantly.


“Come on Scott, let’s start filming” you call for your boyfriend. You hear a soft groan emerge as Scott enters your living room. “Oh come on mister grumpy pants, you agreed to this.”

“I know, I know. I just don’t know if I’m a big fan of what could happen if I answer too many wrong” he grumbles.

“Well then, I guess you should try to get them alright then” you smirk at him. “You ready?”

Scott gives a small nod of the head and sits down next to you on the couch.  “Let’s do this.”

“Hey guys, welcome back to my channel” you start the video. “Today I have a very special vlog for you guys. If you don’t recognize this weirdo sitting next to me, it’s my boyfriend Scott.”

“Hang on, weirdo?” he interjects.

“My cute weirdo” you joke.

“I’ll take it.”

“Anyways, today we are doing a highly requested video and that is, Drum roll please, the boyfriend tag! You all sent in numerous questions that Scott is going to answer about our relationship, and right now he is shaking, hoping that he’ll get them all correct. Do you want to tell them why Scott?” You send him a devilish smirk in which he responds with an eye roll and a laugh.

“Well, if I get more than 5 questions wrong, (Y/N) gets to choose a new tattoo for me to get” he says with fake enthusiasm.

“Alright babe, are you ready?”

“Born ready” he says confidently.

“Okay Scott we will start off with some easy questions. Where did we first meet?”

A giant smile spreads across his face as you ask the first question. “Easy. You were at my first lacrosse game of the season. You were new to beacon hills, I thought you were cute, and so I knew I had to impress you. So in that game I scored 5 goals and hoped that you would talk to me after.”

“Awwwe Scott, you remember all that! I was just waiting for you to be lame and say ‘we met at school’” a large blush spreads on your cheeks as Scott relays memories from the start of your relationship. “Alright, you got the first one but there is still many more to go.”

“Bring it on” he says with a smirk. “I have no worries now.”

“Ok next question, what does my typical Friday night consist of doing?”

“Besides me—owe!” he exclaims as you hit him with a pillow for him inappropriate comment. “I was only joking! But usually we are umm…”

“Uhh oh he doesn’t know it guys!” you tease.

“Well usually on a Friday we will be with our other friends just uhhh hanging out I guess” he stumbles. The moment he mentions your friends, you could see why this question would be hard for him to answer. That is because a typical Friday night is spent with the pack trying to take down whatever evil is threatening beacon hills.

“I’ll accept that answer. But I won’t be so lenient with the rest.” A laugh escapes both of you. Personally, you would love to choose a new tattoo for Scott to get, but you won’t get your hopes up. “So now here’s the third question, what is my favorite food?”

“You can’t be serious” he sighs. “There can’t just be one answer to that though right. I know you and I know what you can eat.”

“Don’t worry, there isn’t one specific correct answer. But you can’t just say any type of food either. So choose carefully” you warn.

“Alright well although I know you love stuff like pizza and tacos, but I’m going to go for something other than those. My answer is…. Chinese food” he answers with uncertainty.

“Well you should have just left it at pizza or tacos, that’s one wrong” you tease.

           You went through 10 more questions and Scott managed to get 3 wrong out of those. His forehead grew sweaty as his nerves started kicking in. Before each question you made things worse by reminding him how many more strikes he had before he lost. He was a little upset with himself when he couldn’t quite recall the location of your first kiss or when he couldn’t remember what your old dogs name was. However, you weren’t too surprised he didn’t reall either of those, especially because your first kiss was during a full moon in order to keep him human.

“Alright Scott, are you ready for your final question?”

“Bring it on babe” he says with fake confidence.

“What instrument did I play in middle school?”

“You played an instrument” he mumbles. “Crap…”  His eyes darted all around your room looking for signs or an answer but none came.

“Think very very carefully, you don’t want to get this one wrong.”

“Was it… the violin” he says cautiously. You give him a look that he is unable to read. You can feel his nerves pulsating out of his body.

“Scott, I’m afraid…. You are correct! Ding ding, we have a winner” you exclaim. His face lights up in excitement as he realizes you don’t have to choose a tattoo for him. “Thank you so much guys for tuning in to our boyfriend tag video. Leave your comments down below and let me know what you’d like to see next, Bye!!”

You click off the camera to stop recording and look to Scott who has a giant smirk on his face. “Told you I would get enough right” he mocks.

“Actually… it was the flute” you say as you walk out of the room.

“Wait what?” he asks confused.

“I played the flute, I was just feeling nice” you sass with a light laugh. “You’re welcome.”

Meanwhile Scott is still just sitting on the couch with the most surprised look on his face. He could have sworn he would have won…

The Little, Blue Hyundai Sonata

Prompt: AS REQUESTED BY ANON: “hamilsquad x reader where reader gets into a car accident and suffers brain damage and kinda resorts to a child like state and the hamilsquad have to try and take care of her”

Paring: Could be interpreted as Hamilsquad with some Laurens X Reader or Poly!Hamilsquad (Whichever sweetens your tea) 

TW: Car accidents, swearing, loss of a loved one, abusive father figure, suicide attempt, reference to depression, suicidal thoughts, regression, trauma, panic attacks, nightmares, flashbacks, anxiety, breakdowns, refusing to eat, temper tantrums, mute, robbed, temporary character death, ambulances, vivid description of car accident/blood?

A/N: Thank you so much to the anon who requested this! I hope this is what you had in mind and I really hope you enjoy this! I hope this meets your standards! As always, thank you for all of your love and support! I love y'all! If you want me to tag something, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE let me know! I want you to feel safe when reading my work! Please enjoy!

Word Count: 6140

You were fifteen when you got your first car. She was a blue, 2004 Hyundai Sonata, and you called her Sonya. Your father had driven her for a few years before you’d gotten her, and he took the new car. You didn’t mind though, you loved her. She had a few flaws like a busted air conditioner and cracked motor mounts-so she shook sometimes and rumbled when it was cold out-but you didn’t mind that. In fact, you loved her flaws. You found the rumbling of the engine soothing on the cold mornings. And Sonya had the fastest defrost you’d ever seen. You loved your car.

Keep reading

I Want Him Back // Isaac Lahey

Warnings: angst, sadness, swearing, not edited

Words: 901

A/N: I hope you like this! Should I write more Isaac? I luv that smol bean

Tags: @impalasandhunters

It was weird seeing Isaac so confident, all of sudden. Only a few weeks ago, he was the shy, anxious kid that sat with you at lunch and would always blush when you started talking to him.

But now he was walking around in a leather jacket, head held up high, all his bruises healed and smiling like he was the king of the world.

You really didn’t like this new Isaac. He didn’t sit with you today and when you wanted to greet him at his locker, he shoved you out of the way and talked with Erica and Boyd instead.

Even if it sounded selfish, you wanted your Isaac back. The one that wouldn’t tell you about his home life, because he was embarrassed, the one that loved when you played with his hair. The one you would meet in the middle of the night, after his farther was being an ass again.

You wanted the Isaac back you fell in love with.

You couldn’t sleep that night, so instead of tossing and turning until you fell asleep again, you put on a jacket and shoes and went into the preserve.

You knew exactly where you’re going. The one special place, that you could find in your sleep. So often you were sitting here with Isaac, just talking, watching the stars or comforting him.

It was a weird feeling sitting here without him. You missed the curly haired boy a lot. And, to be honest, you had no clue why, or how, he changed. For you, he was perfect.

The last time you sat here was a two weeks ago. It was one of Isaac’s bad nights and he needed your comfort right now.

You were laying back on the grass, one arm underneath your head, the other hand in Isaac’s hair, slowly letting your fingers glide through his curls.

None of you talked, just looking at the sky. The boys head was laying on your stomach, one hand on your leg, he squeezed your tight for comfort, to make sure you were really there.

You haven’t talked to him since you got here. After he sent you a text you just came without asking, cause that what friends do for each other.

Isaac was being weird, you two haven’t talked in days and normally you two were inseparable, besides the times his father forced him to work.

He was shutting himself off, not texting as much with you anymore, no talking in school nor hanging out together at the cemetery. But instead you saw him talking with Erica and later on with Boyd.

But you didn’t bring it up now. You just wanted to spent some quality time with your best friend.

Sighing you pushed Isaac’s head from your stomach onto your lap, so you could sit up. Slowly you were pulling your hands out of his hair, now just looking down at his relaxed face.

Letting your fingers glide over his cheek, you saw a smile spread on his lips. You really didn’t want to bring it up, but it was bothering you that he was cutting you off.

So you whispered into the night, not sure if he would hear you “Isaac?” But he heard and answered with a grunt. “Why are you shutting yourself off?”, you didn’t dare to speak louder than a whisper, already afraid of his answer.

Maybe it was something you did? Maybe you changed without noticing. Maybe it was too obvious that you fell for him and he was uncomfortable because he didn’t feel the same?

You were brought out of your thoughts, when the weight of Isaac’s head on you lap was suddenly gone. Looking up, you saw him sitting in front of you, eyes focused on the sky instead of you when he started talking.

“I didn’t want to shut myself off, you were my first ever friend”, he told you quietly. “But why did you?” He still didn’t look at you but instead just spoke up again. “I can’t tell you that Y/N” “But why? Isaac please tell me! If it’s something I did I am sorry, I c-” “Y/N, it’s not because of something you did. Please just accept my decision”, he interrupted you.

Slowly the curly haired boy stood up and walked away. Shocked you sprung up and grabbed his forearm. “Isaac! Please don’t do that”, you were pretty sure he could hear that you were about to cry. You could hear him mumble a soft sorry, before he tried to leave again.

Without a second thought you spun him around and pressed your lips to his in a chaste kiss. When you backed away, you saw his mortified expression. Slowly you let go of his arm and mumbled a last “Please” but the only thing you heard from Isaac were his fat receding steps.

The tears were slowly falling down your face, your ugly sobbing the only sound heard. You had your head on your knees, your arms slung around them. Why were you so stupid and kissed him? Maybe if you didn’t you would have had a chance to get him back.

But now you were nothing for him, you weren’t worth his time. How should you live on without your best friend?

But how should you know that he was standing near you, your sobs paining him more that his father ever could.