i spent an hour on this that will never come back. ; ;

Chocolate Cake

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Pairing: Jin X Reader

Fandom: BTS

Request: a scenario where seokjin and the reader are high school sweethearts who were separated cause the reader left the country and they reunite after she moves back but seokjin is getting married

Originally posted by ksjknj

Finally you were able to look around and see a view that was so warm and familiar. The city you had grown up in had become bustling with new people, new coffee shops, but the same old feeling to it. Sitting on your bed, surrounded by the boxes in your room from moving, you stared out the window as you watched the people walk by. 

About 5 years ago, you moved away with your family, trying to remember things from back then. The faint memory of your old friends came to mind and though those friendships were no longer as strong as they used to be, the memories were only happy ones. School back then wasn’t perfect by any means but it wasn’t too bad, having some of the brightest memories. The more you sat there reminiscing, the more curious you had become, going over to your box of photobooks. As you picked the largest one up a photo fell out from the bottom and landed into your lap. 

The picture featured a taller, broad shouldered, brown-eyed, and handsome ex of yours standing in front of the bus stop you both stood at back then. Unlike any of your other relationships, he didn’t mind you taking a pictures of him, in fact you could remember him gloating about his photogenic self after you took this picture. Almost as though you could still hear his unique laughter ringing in your ears was enough to make you laugh lightly to yourself. It felt a bit weird to feel yourself start to feel warm and comfortable just by looking at a picture of someone you no longer talked to nor were in a relationship with but he was like your other half in high school. Jin always knew how to make you smile no matter what and no matter how lame he had to be to earn that smile. He was romantic when he wanted to be, setting aside his jokes you could remember him holding your hand for the first time at the same bus stop. You were so embarrassed back then because the bus had pulled up right aftewards for everyone to see but when you looked over to him you noticed how red his ears had gotten, knowing it must a took a lot for him to do it out of nowhere.

The first time he had kissed you was on a field trip to the planetarium and as romantic as that sounds he didn’t sneak you off to a dark room with the stars glowing on the ceiling. You remembered you were holding his arm by his side when one of your classmates said the two of you couldn’t be really dating if you hadn’t even kissed yet. In a provoked moment he turned to you, kissing you in front of the group of classmates you were with to prove his point. 

“Did I or did I not tell you she’s my girlfriend.” Jin boasted. 

You grew so embarrassed your head was already in his chest to hide but unlike him holding your hand he wasn’t embarrassed anymore, laughing at your shyness.

The worst part of everything was the same 5 years ago when you had to move away. You spent maybe a week just crying once a day whenever you thought about him or missed him. You couldn’t have asked him to wait for you because there was a huge possibility you weren’t going to ever move back. Jin was your first love and you couldn’t forget anything about him, still having lingering feelings as you stared down at the small picture in your hands. 

“I wonder what you’re up to Kim Seokjin…” You whispered to yourself, pulling your phone out of your pocket. 

It was the first time you tried searching him up on social media after unfriending him. Back then you didn’t want to see all the things he was doing without you but since it had been years you figured anything you would see couldn’t hurt anymore. The first one to pop up on instagram had a picture of him, surprising you with how much he had grown. Hesitantly, you followed him before looking through his pictures. The first one was a video of him playing the guitar as he occasionally looked over at the person sitting in front of him with a smile. It must have been something he had recently picked up, not remembering him playing before. When you clicked off of the video to view everything else you saw a notification that he followed you back, followed by an alert of an incoming DM. 

KSJ92 (Jin) :

   “Hi Y/N. It’s been awhile, huh?”

    “Are you doing well?”

You couldn’t stop staring at the message, reluctant to reply. At first you weren’t going to say anything at all but to your horror even you could see that you had read it, so he was definitely aware. With a deep breathe, you considered sending something risky but if you didn’t say it now it might be strange to tell him later. 

You:

     “Hey, I’m doing good. Sorry it’s been so long, I actually moved back here and was wondering if you wanna to meet up?”

There was a pause in his response after he had read the message, not typing right away. It was hard to tell if the 5 year gap made things awkward but there was not many other reasons he would instantly message you and not want to catch up. When the long two minutes passed he finally sent something in return;

KSJ92 (Jin):

    “Yeah sure, is today fine? I’m not sure which part of town you moved in but I know this cafe near me. They have your favorite cake too, if that’ll persuade you.”

You: 

   “What, really? That sounds great! Just send me the location and I’ll meet you there in like an hour.”

Setting your phone down,you immediately got up to change out of the sweatpants you had been wearing to unpack. You were nervous and excited at the same time mostly because it’s not like you didn’t know him but at the same time he could have changed a lot or not have remembered as much as you did about your relationship. It was hard not to wonder what he was thinking about meeting up again but then again, you never thought you’d get the chance to see him again after the way things ended. 

When you checked yourself in the mirror one last time, you grabbed your things and headed out to the place based off of the directions in your phone. Luckily for you, it was only about a 10 minute walk from you seeing as though you must live close to each other without realizing it. Come to think of it there were plenty of apartment complexes and cafes on your way there so living in the city seemed to have it’s perks.

As your hand reaches for the doorknob, someone else pushes it open next to you. 

“Wow, you almost look the exact same.” Jin gasped jokingly before sending a smile in your direction as he held the door open for you. 

You looked up at him, examining the differences about him. The first thing you noticed was his handsomely dyed light brown hair unlike the pictures of his Instagram, as well as his newly developed height and obviously toned body even through the button up he was wearing, neatly tucked in the front of his pants. If it was even possible, he was even more handsome than he was before looking so much more grown.

“…Jin? You look completely-”

“Handsome? I know, I dressed up for you today.” 

Not believing your ears you scoffed before giggling at his dumb remark, hitting his arm playfully as you entered the cafe. You walked over to a table by the window before sitting down, jin following behind you. 

“Do you want a coffee? I’m gonna go order for us and bring it over here.” Jin suggested.

“Yeah sure, but only if you remembered my usual.”

“Ah, it’s been 5 years but you thought I wouldn’t remember? Come on…I’m a lot better than you think.”

“Is that so?” You smiled, resting your hand on your cheek. 

“Of course. Just sit here and i’ll come back with everything.”

You nodded, watching him go up to the counter to place your order. Looking at him from a far made you really realize how much you missed him. Talking to him was still comfortable and though, he was a bit awkward before the two of you dated it completely faded after he asked you out.  

Noticing you staring over at him he flashed a smile to which you waved in return. As you waited you just kept playing on your phone until you saw a small, white plate being pushed onto the table in the middle, accompanied by a coffee sitting right next to it. The tray still in his hands as he placed his own drink down, you pick up a fork, taking a bite of the chocolate cake. Jin set it to the side, sitting across from you with his drink. 

“So, what brings you back here?” He asked.

“Well, things weren’t very comfortable when I left. I couldn’t adapt well to moving with my parents so I decided to get a job back here. I got hired after a few resumes and a video call interview and ta-da, here I am. I think Namjoon convinced me to move back here when I talked to him last time even though he doesn’t even live here anymore.”

“What’d he say?”

“If you don’t like it you can always move again but if you don’t do it at all, you’ll just be unhappy and wondering why you didn’t just give it a shot.” 

“Yeah, sounds like him.”Jin smiled, nodding.

“What about you? What’s new?” You asked curiously, leaning over the table. 

“Well I think you know the biggest news since I sent you an invitation-…oh wait, you never replied to it? Do you think you can make it?”

Your eyes brows furrowed in confusion, taking another bite of the cake. You covered your mouth to speak as you chewed. He seemed excited about whatever it was he was talking about. 

“Invitation? Invitation to what?”

“My wedding, Y/N. I guess when you moved it got lost in the mail or sent to your old address.”

Suddenly the cake felt much more dry, coughing at his words. Jin stood up from his chair in shock to see if you needed help but you shook your head, waving your hand to assure him you’re okay.

“Are you okay? 

“No, I’m fine. I had no idea…ha..wow, congratulations.”

His expression changed from being concerned to smiling again as he recalled his new fiancee. He pulled his phone out to show you a picture of her with the ring on her finger and you couldn’t even lie to yourself about how gorgeous and nice she looked. Your heart completely sank and any getting back together fantasy of yours had been crushed. 

“That’s amazing. She’s really lucky..” You said quietly. 

“Yeah, I know it seems weird to invite your ex to your wedding but we were best friends first and even if things didn’t end that well I thought it would be nice to see you again. When you added me I thought it would have been because of the wedding.”

“Ah, not really. I Just thought it would have been fun to see you again after so long. I found our old yearbooks and stuff when I was unpacking.”

“Well, do you think you can make it? I can always just mail you a new one-”

“W-well, I’m a bit busy. You know, new job and unpacking and everything but I’m happy for you guys.” It was hard to lie to his face but you tried to maintain the fake smile plastered on your face. 

You were so absorbed in your own head you didn’t even notice he never told you the date of the wedding so an excuse was a bit strange to say. At least he would get the hint as you just stared down at the chocolate cake in front of you that no longer felt as special. You truly wanted to be happy for him and maybe you would have if you didn’t build up this whole meet up in your head, thinking he might have been the best guy for you and possibly being that girl alongside of him at that wedding. 

“That’s fine, Yeah, no, I understand Y/N. It’s not that big of a deal.” Jin nervously laughed off the rejection. 

“Aside from the wedding there are a few other things that’s changed.” He chimed in. 

Pretending to listen, you looked over at him, nodding every few seconds he was talking. You knew this was it, you had missed your chance, and the only thing you could still think about was coming to terms with the fact the entire time he smiled at you or said something sweet to you he was someone else’s. The first guy you told you loved him now sat in front of you in love with someone else while you were still stuck in the past. You were just a past memory for him, no longer a future opportunity. And the more you kept thinking about it the harder it became to stop yourself from tearing up in front of everyone in this cafe. Your hands clutched the coffee cup a little tighter, knowing you should have expected this. There was no reason for him to stay single the way he was and finally you mustered up a real smile, unitentionally cutting him off.

“Thank you for giving me some of the best years in my life but I think for the sake of your fiancee, we shouldn’t meet anymore. I shouldn’t have added you as carelessly as I did and if I would have known I wouldn’t even have met with you today. I’m sorry…I really hope you guys are happy and I really mean that.” You let out, pulling a $10 from your purse to place it on the table before standing up and walking out the door. 

Jin ran up from behind you, standing in front of you so you would stop.

“Wait! I asked her if it was okay to meet with you today. She’s fine with us being friends-”

“But I’m not. That’s the problem. I still care about you way too much to go to something like your wedding and maybe us dating wasn’t a big deal to you like it was to me but I’m not over you.” You admitted, blushing as you avoided his eyes. 

“Y/N-”

“Stop, okay? I’m going home, thanks for trying though.” 

Just as you said, you turned around and left, except this time he didn’t chase after you. The new house you came back to no longer looked like a place of a new life, it just reminded you of everything you used to have. You laid on the couch, letting out the tears you had been holding in just to go into your phone and delete him off of your social media. It felt selfish and you couldn’t stop thinking about the disappointed face he made before you ran off.  Things seemed to never work out the way you expected them to. 

The Time Before, Part 1

Hi, and welcome to my first fanfic. I’m a little terrified right now, but it’s good terror, right? This story is also posted at AO3. But please, read along and enjoy how I imagine it went when Claire Beauchamp met Frank Randall.

July 1937

We had just returned to London, Uncle Lamb and I, stepping off the train at Victoria Station and emerging into the bustle of the city. It was a far cry from the dig in South America, where we had been excavating Inca ruins and living, shall we say, rather rougher than would be expected for an Oxford-educated scholar and his gently-reared niece. I would miss the quiet of the wilds of Peru, but was excited to be back in the center of things.

I slung my satchel over my shoulder, following Uncle Lamb and his manservant Firouz up the busy street. The miasma of the city — smoke, automobile exhaust, rubbish and just a tinge of vomit — hit my nostrils and I sighed, contentedly. We had been in Peru nearly nine months while Uncle Lamb worked the dig at Ollantaytambo, studying the 15th century city’s military defences and excavating weapons to send to London for further study. While I had grown up following Uncle Lamb on his expeditions, I was looking forward to just a bit of stability.

“I need to go to my offices before we head to our lodging, Claire,” Uncle Lamb said, as we stopped at the street corner. Friouz, his dark hair gleaming in the sunlight, was hailing us a cab. “Would you like to go with Friouz straight to the flat?”

“No, I’ll come with you,” I said, shaking out my curls in the breeze. “I haven’t much to do at the flat by myself.”

Friouz loaded our baggage into the trunk of the cab and I slid into the backseat next to Uncle Lamb. “Why are you so keen to get to the college?” I asked, as the cab sped away toward, I assumed, the British Museum. “We’ve been away for months, surely another day won’t delay anything.”

“Oh, I’ve had a fascinating query from a junior professor that I wish to start on as soon as possible, about a point of French philosophy as it relates to Egyptian religious practice. Can you imagine?”

“Not even a little bit.” I smiled at him, charmed by his never-ending enthusiasm for his research. I was much more interested in getting out at night, myself, sans escort. The opportunities for cinema-going, dancing or cavorting with handsome men had been rather thin on the ground in Peru. I had spent more than nine months longing for a little fun.

Well, maybe not longing that hard, I thought, remembering some of the more steamy nights in the jungle, keeping not-so-cool with one of the more attractive graduate students working on the dig. Helmut was tall and sandy-haired, with brown eyes and a devastating smile, and a nigh-unquenchable thirst for the only girl in miles. We had a fair bit of fun sneaking about the ruins, and he had promised to write, but I wasn’t planning on holding my breath.

I did, however, put thoughts of Helmut and his callused hands aside, worried my face would reveal more than I intended. But Uncle Lamb had his nose in his research notebook. We never discussed my liaisons, and I honestly wasn’t sure how much he knew about my social life. He had given me a very scientific explanation of where babies come from at age 10, and we had never spoken of it again. My uncle was an oddly distracted man, but I was sure he couldn’t have been totally oblivious to my late-night comings and goings or flirtations during mealtimes. And he had been going on about the vestal virgins again …

But no matter. Helmut was still in Peru, and I was back in London. We would be in the city for at least six months — Uncle Lamb wanted time to finish his latest book about his research and ensure the relics he sent back to the museum were properly preserved, catalogued and archived. To my left, Hyde Park’s trees loomed tall and rows of neatly-manicured flowers bloomed; they were a far cry from the overgrown and unruly foliage of the jungle. Everything here, from the black cabs, to the city squares, to the newspaper cones of chips being sold on the street corners, to the Marble Arch we were zooming by, practically screamed their Englishness. It should’ve felt like a homecoming, I thought, although it really just felt like the next big adventure.

I had grown up on the road with Uncle Lamb, traveling from dig to dig, exotic jungle to historic ruin to blazing desert, since my parents’ deaths when I was five. I was coming up on 19 now, and hadn’t spent more than two years all together in England since. We came back for short stints, so Uncle Lamb could present his work to his esteemed colleagues, or to re-supply for our next expedition, but I was generally more comfortable living out of a rucksack and in a tent than in our flat in the city.

The cab stopped, and I saw the marble columns of the British Museum rise stoically into the London skyline. Uncle Lamb slid out of the cab, and I followed onto the curb. A small flock of pigeons descended on a small bit of dropped crumb on the sidewalk, squawking and squabbling, as Uncle Lamb leaned in the front window, paid the gruff cabbie, and said a final few words on instruction to Firouz. He then, with a look of great satisfaction, held out his elbow for me to take, and I waved goodbye to Firouz as the cab sped away as we grandly strolled up the iconic steps, into the temple of his beloved work.

His office was in the far-off academic wing of the museum; a small window looked over a picturesque courtyard with a gleaming white statue of Artemis. It was filled, almost from floor to ceiling, with books, papers and parchments. Uncle Lamb’s desk was tucked in a corner and similarly covered in academic detris — although, I knew there was some method to the madness that was only quite intelligible to Uncle Lamb. He always left strict instructions that his office and papers be left alone while he was out of the country.

I wandered around the office, picking things up and putting them down while Uncle Lamb sat at his desk and pulled out his traveling notebook once again, and then fumbled through some correspondence. While his office was filled with objectively fascinating antiquities, there was nothing I hadn’t seen before, and I could tell he was settling in for a long session of work.

“Uncle, do you think you’ll be long? I might visit the Reading Room.”

“I’ll only be a few hours or so. Then we’ll go to the pub and get supper.”

I glanced at a clock — it was just after three in the afternoon, and we had been traveling all morning. “Of course, I’ll come back later,” I said, knowing “a few hours” could be anywhere between two and ten, depending on how absorbed Uncle Lamb became in his work. But, the museum closed at a reasonable hour and I could insist upon dinner when I returned.

I had had a reader’s ticket from the Principal Librarian since I was a girl, under the sponsorship of Uncle Lamb, taking out books on botany, flora and fauna to look at the pictures. The dome of the Reading Room rose above me as the silence of the library fell. It was heavily populated for an afternoon with no classes in session; the room was filled with the harsh glow of summer sunshine. I took a left and started to wend my way around the stacks, through physics and engineering, stopping at periodicals. I wasn’t particularly fussed on Ladies Companion — full of recipes and advice on raising children as it was — but I glanced through Nash’s, hoping for a glimpse of the latest film stars or glamorous dresses. No such luck, though, as I dolefully noted how straight the hairstyles had become. I could never tame my curls into a sleek bob that would fit neatly under a cloche hat; and Uncle Lamb loathed hats on women anyway.

Abandoning the magazines, I meandered toward fiction, the next section in my circle around the room. Was there a new Agatha Christie, perhaps? I had only brought Dickens to Peru and was sorely in need of a change of pace. I was reaching for a maroon-covered volume with gold-gilt lettering that caught a ray of sunshine from the overhead windows, when I heard a soft footfall behind me.

“No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face,” a deep and rather dreamy voice said behind me. I turned to look over my shoulder. A rather handsome man, with dark hair, hazel eyes and a distinguished face, smiled.

“John Donne.”

“You know Donne but you’re choosing from the penny dreadful section?”

I was surprised by the jibe, although I supposed I shouldn’t have been. He was handsome and cut a dashing figure for an obvious academic. His practical brown suit was of quality, but rumpled as if he had been sitting at a desk for hours; his tie was just slightly undone; and there was a small ink stain on his white shirt next to the lapel of his jacket.

“Since you’re so fond of Donne, try this one,” I said, leaning in conspiratorially, “‘Humiliation is the beginning of sanctification.’”

“Who said anything about humiliation?” The man clearly thought he was charming me.

I raised my voice just above an acceptable level for a library, to make sure anyone in the next aisle would hear. “Agatha Christie hardly writes penny dreadfuls, so don’t insult my taste in literature in an attempt to make my acquaintance.” I smiled beatifically at him, and watching the assured, charismatic grin fall from his face.

“My apologies, miss …” Recovering quickly, he raised his eyebrows as if expecting me to fill in the blank.

Raising my own eyebrows, I decided not to give him the satisfaction. “Not at all,” I said, polite to the point of pointedly rude. I turned back to the shelves, dismissing and forgetting him in the same moment. Not quite finding what I was looking for — there was only Murder on the Orient Express, which I had read so many times on a trip to Egypt two years before I could recite it from memory — I walked a few paces, reflecting I had never delved into the world of Sherlock Holmes.

The librarian-on-duty — who had known me since I was small — shooed me out of the Reading Room two hours later, with few new novels and a book of poetry tucked under my arm, and I took the long route back to Uncle Lamb’s office, preparing to cajole him into abandoning his studies so we could eat. It being our first meal back on English soil, I reckoned it would be a relatively easy task — Uncle Lamb gloried in a good shepherd’s pie, which was not something served at camp in the jungles of Peru.

I could hear the sound of raucous academic debate coming from Uncle Lamb’s office when I turned down the corridor. It seemed Uncle Lamb had hit his stride on the finer points of tomb contents in ancient Egypt’s Middle Kingdom, and I hovered just out of sight at the door waiting for a lull in conversation. As I expected, it was a few moments before I heard Uncle Lamb pause for breath, and I knocked softly and started to push open the door. “Uncle, are you ready for … oh.”

Uncle Lamb was sitting at his desk, and the man he was speaking with — obviously the young scholar who wanted to talk French philosophy — turned around in his seat. It was him! The dashing man who objected to mystery novels was here, in my uncle’s office.

“Claire, do come in,” Uncle Lamb said jovially, standing to greet me. His guest stood as well. “Dr. Randall, allow me to introduce my niece, Claire Beauchamp. Claire, this is Dr. Franklin Randall; he’s a don in the University of London’s history department.”

Well, now he knew my name. “How do you do, Dr. Randall.” I stuck out my hand to shake, but he took it in his and raised it to his lips, kissing it gently on the back. His lips were warm, just just-so-slightly dry; it sent a small shiver up my arm that coiled deep in my belly.

“How do you do, Miss Beauchamp.” His voice was just as dreamy as it had been in the Reading Room, assured and educated, soft but with a hint of a rasp. I nodded my head in acknowledgement, and as he, seemingly reluctantly, let go my hand, I turned to my uncle.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt. I can come back later.”

“Oh, no, dear,” Uncle Lamb said, coming around his desk. “We were just discussing some burial practices, you know, the Egyptians’ beliefs in this area …”

I laughed. “Yes, I know. We’ve spent enough time excavating their tombs.”

“Well, yes, of course, dear. But you must be starved.” He turned to Dr. Randall as he plopped his hat on his head. “We’re going to get a bite of supper down at the pub, would you care to …”

“I’m sure Dr. Randall has other …” I started to object.

“I would be pleased to join you,” Dr. Randall perked up immediately. “I’m a bit peckish myself.”

My student submitted the most disturbing “Living History” project I’ve ever seen 

By reddit user gretelcat

One of my least favorite parts about being a middle school history teacher is the bullshit “Living History” assignments we give at the end of every school year. Kids are supposed to sit with their grandparents and video tape, voice record, or transcribe their oldest memories for posterity (and for an easy way to bring up their GPA).

Keep reading

will byers is gay: a thorough character analysis

disclaimer: this is not me “forcing sexuality” on will. if you think him being gay is inappropriate but have no problem with mileven and/or lumax (who are all the same age as will), i’ve got some news for you.

Keep reading

Dear readers,

I tried to make this brief, but I think I failed.

Today on Twitter and Tumblr, I posted about piracy and the effect it had had on the publishing side of the Raven Cycle. Several readers lashed out at me and asked why I did not merely release an 11,000 word story for free if the publisher had decided not to release it — further, they noted, other “big name authors” released “loads” of free content and since I didn’t release “loads” of things for free, surely this meant I just was in it for the money.

I don’t have a lot to add to the piracy commentary that is already up, other than the fate of the Raven Cycle and all its extras are up to my U.S. publisher and so therefore the discussion is weighted toward U.S. buyers. 

And I’m not going to speak to the giving away art for free business. The internet has discussed this a lot already, and the fact is that if you take away a paying-for-art model, you end up only getting art from people who can afford to work in their spare time or art that is supported by patrons — both models that we have seen before, both models that end up giving you art produced by and for a homogenous and upper class group. So moving on.

What I will speak to is the “loads” of free content business, because I haven’t addressed this before. I know there are authors who do release loads of free content. Stories of all lengths. Still other authors release loads of extra content available for a low cost, stories and novellas, etc. I can very much see how this is thrilling to readers. However, this will never be me, for four reasons:

1. I am bad at thinking episodically. I think of my novels in novel-shape, and it is difficult for me to think of stories that do not exist within that plotline. Just write Gansey and Blue going grocery shopping, urge readers, but I can’t think of how to make that into a satisfying story shape that will not diminish the original novels, introduce world-building that I will later regret, and be satisfying in one sitting. So ideas come to me very rarely that fit the idea of an extra. 

2. My deleted scenes are 99% bad versions of scenes that exist in the novel. They are not me deciding to cut a scene of Gansey and Blue going grocery shopping. They are me trying five different settings for the same conversation. They’re not extra, they’re less. 

3. I have always been a slow or at least very exclusive writer. I have a year between books and it takes me all of that time to write them, to think about them, to conceptualize them. I hear about some writers who write their contracted novels and then, in addition, write 10,000 word fanfics. HOW. I am not that person. If I try to write any faster, or write two things at the same time, all that happens is that I have to delete bad words twice as often, or end up writing the same story with two different titles. 

4. I am even slower now. I had not posted about my health crisis, because I didn’t want to be that person who talked about their gout at a party, but here it is. Folks who follow me on the internet may have noticed over the past several years that I was posting with increasing frequency about migraines and brain fog. In June, I grew rapidly ill at a seminar and collapsed (I think there’s still a photo of me lying on pavement behind the scenes). I had to be shipped home, canceled a tour for the first time ever, and then spent several weeks trying to get better. I did, sort of — but even weeks later, I wasn’t really better. I had hives all over my body. My hair was falling out. I was weirdly missing abstract thought — some days I could remember my home address, but I couldn’t say it out loud. I also couldn’t stay awake. I had to sleep every four hours, and every time I ate food, I got even more tired. And when I did sleep, it wasn’t real sleep. A drugged, enchanted, dreamless, sick sleep. There are photos all over the internet of me pulled over by the side of the interstate to sleep because when a reaction hit, there was no option. There is also a photo of my crumpled Mitsubishi that happened when I was too tired to avoid the tractor trailer that ran into me on the highway. I should’ve realized sooner that I was having an immune reaction, but it snuck up slowly. Bloodwork ruled out cancer and lupus, but showed that I had no immune system left whatsoever. Since then, I’ve been on a low-histamine diet of about six foods (hence the photographs of the groceries I carry with me on tour) and I’ve slowly become brighter and more like the self I remember from way back when, 2015 self. I can write again, without words looking like foreign intruders on the page. Migraines have vanished. I still have to be incredibly cautious — every time my body is exposed to or creates histamines (dog hair! limes! plane travel!), it still produces hives or puts me into an instant drugged sleep. But I’m getting better. I just can’t do anything stupid. I also just can’t write fast. I will do anything to keep from going back to June 2017 Maggie. 

All of this is to say that I wish I could be one of those authors that could surprise and delight with extras. But for many reasons, I can’t be. I’m continually delighted that readers love my books, and I hope those will continue to be enough.

urs,

Stiefvater


eta: yes, that’s why you no longer see me with cookies. No flour, no eggs, no dairy. :(

anonymous asked:

what are your general thoughts on wyoming?

Before working at the greenhouse in FoCo, I didn’t understand people’s obsession with tomatoes.  I still don’t understand WHY people are like this, the plants are fussy and unpleasant to work with and tomatoes taste like concentrated mouth sores to me, but as least now I have some inkling of the depths of madness edible nightshades can drive people to*. I watched a pair of octogenarian women get in a fistfight over the last Amish Paste we had that week, another man break down in tears over the fact we were out of Mortgage Lifters until next Teusday, and my own manager wax poetic about recent developments in hybridization.

*I could understand if it was Potatoes, THOSE are amazing

The greenhouse I worked at grew ours in-house, to the tune of four long arched green houses and 40 different breeds of tomato, started in February and staggered to last most of the season. We sold something to the tune of ten thousand mature plants per season, and four times that in starters, the manager explained with pride, the two anatolian-ridgeback mixes drooling happily on my leg during employee orientation.

“Who buys That Many tomatoes?” I asked, naieve. 

My manager’s dark laughter should have been a warning.

During one of the hailstorms in late May, the greenhouse was, briefly, blessedly deserted, if deafeningly loud as the sky hurled balls of ice onto the cheap plastic roof.  My manager had left early that afternoon and so I was left to manage that fifth of the business largely unattended.   I was watering the Fucking Tomatoes when two of the roundest miniature Australian shepherds I’ve ever seen appeared at my feet, wheezing happily.  Looking up, I found a pair of equally gleeful humans behind them, sun-burnt and wearing matching Jimmy Buffet shirts.

WE’D LIKE SOME TOMATOES.” The man bellowed over the roar of hail.

“WE HAVE MANY TOMATOES.” I shouted back, gesturing at the wall of tomatoes behind me.

GREAT!” howled the woman. “CAN YOU TELL US ABOUT THEM? WE’VE NEVER DONE TOMATOES BEFORE.

Since I was alone, I spent the next forty-five minutes screaming the attributes of all forty breeds of tomato at them, unable to hear myself speak over the rain, hail and wind, and already dissociating from the noise. I have no idea what I actually said to these people. I might have claimed they were bred on the moon. We got to the end, my throat raw, and fat little Aussies drooling on my shoes.

WHAT DO YOU WANT MARIE?” The man asked.

I DON’T KNOW, THEY ALL SOUND EXCELLENT.” Marie considered. “LETS GET THEM ALL HOWARD.

what.

GOOD IDEA.  WE’LL TAKE FIVE OF EACH.” said Howard.

WHAT.

That’s 200 plants and at $10 a pop, $2000 dollars worth of tomatoes. Why.  I get the extra-large cart out and start loading the tomatoes on. How. I wonder as It takes me three lumber carts to get them all up to the register to scan them.

WE’RE FROM CASPER.” Howard said, like that would explain anything. “THE BIG BLUE HOUSE, YOU CAN SEE IT FROM 25.

Having driven through that part of Wyoming several times to and from Grand Teton, I actually knew about the house in question. “OH YES. WE USE THAT HOUSE TO KNOW WE’RE HALFWAY TO TETON AND TO GET LUNCH.”

YOU SHOULD STOP BY NEXT TIME YOU’RE AROUND.” said Marie.

“OKAY.” I said, for some reason, and helped them out to the parking lot where I discoved they’d apparently driven down in an actual Short Bus, modified to be a sort of camping vehicle, with seatbelts and custom dog-beds for the Fat Aussies, apparently named “Florence” and “Mashmallow”.  I waved cheerfully to them, ears ringing and white lights flashing in my eyes from the continuous noise and feeling like I’d stepped out of my correct timeline.  I found one of the other managers and told them I’d just made them $2k, had a migraine and was going home.


A month and a half later, the seasonal job had ended and I was driving to Washington to see a friend and I happened to be passing through Casper.  In need of a break and eternally curious, I decided to try to find the Big Blue House and see if any of the tomatoes had survived.  It took me a bit to find the correct frontage road but as I was driving by the front yard-

[REDACTED] HOW ARE YOU?” bellowed Marie. somehow spotting and recognizing me. “I’M SO GLAD YOU CAME, COME SEE THEM!

Apparently they just talk like that all the time, but I had a lovely half hour in which Marie and Howard took me on a lovely tour of their experimental self-sustaining farm with the trout pond and chickens and the 200-still-alive-and-apparently-thriving tomato plants.  Given that tomatoes are happiest when hydrated But suffering, Casper turned out to be a good choice.  They’d also gotten some 30 varieties of corn, 15 types of potatoes and 12 types of carrots and Howard was looking into Beans and Squash for next year.

IT WAS VERY NICE OF YOU TO COME OUT.” said Howard.  “HERE, HAVE SOME HAM.

I thanked them, took my three pounds of sustainably-farmed Loud People Ham, and excused myself as I still had to get to Bozeman by that evening and they waved me goodbye from the driveway.

We’re still facebook friends.


(if you enjoy hearing about strange people I meet, please consider supporting my Tip Jar so I can buy groceries)

right so i’m gonna give you a more detailed account of what went down :

so on sunday taylor liked a photo of me and i was S H O O K because she’d never noticed me before, and the next morning i woke up to a message from rn from the night before, asking me for some details (this was all completely confidential). they rung me back and said that they had a secret event they wanted to invite me to on friday. they were very vague about the details so i guessed it was pretty big. so i spent the whole week getting excited and then the friday came and i was dying inside from not telling you guys! but we went to the meeting place that we’d been told to go to (there was a terrible moment when i thought i wasn’t going to make it on time bc i’d gone to the wrong place that was an hour away but thank god we got there) and after queuing for a while we signed confidentiality agreements and gave up our bags and phones. after a lil while we got on a shuttle bus to another secret location and by this point i was like actually d y i n g. we got in, they did some security checks and we went up to the kitchen to get food (taylor’s spotify playlist was on in the background). there were rep m and m’s, rep iced biscuits, cheese and crackers and ofc my fave chicken nuggets (THEY WERE SO GOOD I ATE LIKE 10). i was talking to @auntbeckyisbae and @lovetaylorsmusic (who are so lovely btw) when i spotted scott swift handing out guitar picks and talking to fans. and then tree paine came thru and that was awesome bc it was like all the iconic people were there, and we also saw andrea coming down the stairs and waved. and then suddenly we all got moved through to the living room with candles burning everywhere and cushions on the floor around a chair and a speaker and that was when i let myself get my hopes up that this was a secret session. and then as i was looking at the door i saw a glimpse of red lipstick and shouted so loud and everyone started shouting and screaming support and my queen @taylorswift came in in the most beautiful camouflage patterned dress, with curly hair and these fucking snake boots that slayed me so hard. she introduced herself (ofc) and talked us through what was gonna happen and what we could and couldn’t say and she shouted out all 13 of the countries represented. and then the secret stuff happened that i can’t talk about but i can promise you reputation is a piece of art ; it’s dark, it’s sexy, it’s sharp, it’s emotional and it’s so her. there were songs that had us screaming bc of how witty they were and then THAT song that we all cried at. at one point during the one that made us all cry tay looked at me and smiled and mouthed some of the most emotional lyrics and i d i e d. then we got to read the rep magazines and they were passed around while tay got ready for photos, and then suddenly i was walking in to meet her and i was so nervous and she smiled really big and said ‘hey honey!’ in the brightest voice and i told her i loved her and she said i love you too! and we talked about the cats and she said mere still hates her but loves her bf and we just talked and it was incredible. we took a picture of me hugging her and then my brother got one too, and all too soon it was over and i was walking away and saying bye and thank you. and then we got our merch bags and got on the bus back.

it was the best night of my life.

BTS replaced you. - pt.2

[pt.1] [pt.2] [pt.3]


Originally posted by fairybcby

After the conversation we shared I muted the conversation, there was nothing I wanted to hear anymore and nothing I wanted to do but sleep. I was curious of what they had to say, if anything at all but at the same time I didn’t want to know because they probably don’t think it’s a big deal they’ve missed my birthday three years in a row. I sat at my dining room table, staring at the candlelit cake in front of me. It was their favourite, strawberry flavour and just looking at it reminded me of them and how they won’t be here again to share this too large cake for one with me.

For so long I believed that we were best friends, that we were inseparable and nothing or no one could come between the friendship we shared because we had been through so much with one another. But I was wrong. They let her get between us. I don’t want to be a selfish brat that I’m seeming to be, but they just forgot me so easily after spending a week with her, wouldn’t that hurt you? They used to be the first people to say happy birthday to me, even if they were away they’d never forget to FaceTime me at 12am - but this year, even though we were supposed to celebrate, they didn’t call at 12, they didn’t send me a text. Because they forgot, and they left me waiting for them like a fool standing outside the restaurant in the winter cold holding my own birthday cake. They promised. They promised that they were going to celebrate with me this year for sure, they even made sure they had no schedule clashes today so that we could celebrate, but just like that they forgot and I was replaced with someone new, someone better.

People looked at me funny, people who walked into the restaurant, had their meal and came back out to see me still standing there alone - they all looked at me with pity in their eyes. ‘That girl must’ve got stood up’ must be what they were all thinking. Yeah I was stood up by my seven best friends. The entire week they’ve been hanging out, the entire week they’ve dismissed me. ‘If it was important we would have remembered’ ‘Clearly wasn’t all that important’, that hurt to say the least, it only told me how much I didn’t mean to them, making it clear to me that they don’t need me in their lives anymore because they have someone new, someone that let’s them have the personal space that they needed and I understood now. I was only ever thinking of myself and what I wanted. Maybe they didn’t forget, maybe this was their way to tell me that our friendship is over. 

I blew out the candle without making a wish, wishes don’t come true. I’ve wished for the same thing the last two years and each following year I end up getting disappointed. I crawled into bed and went to sleep, eyes slightly wet from crying. But a few hours later, I heard my phone ring; I picked up without even checking the caller ID. 

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The part of the deep web that we aren’t supposed to see 

Story by Mr_Outlaw_

I’ll assume you all know about the deep web. Well, what you’ve heard is true, it’s not a great place. While some people are there to score legal weed or firearms, or even out of sheer curiosity, others… well they’re obviously not up to anything good. But I’m not here to talk about those sickos. I’m here to talk about what lies beyond that point. The more cryptic and unexplainable part of the internet. The part that nobody’s really supposed to see.

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Clingy

Originally posted by pinkharold

This is so angsty, but I hope you guys enjoy! Thank you to whoever requested. Keep spreading the love. xx - L

You overhear Harry talking badly about you at a party.

Warnings: angsty, light smut

Word Count: 1,728

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Paid Relationship Study

I’m obsessed with the fake relationship trope and I saw this post and got inspired


“Have you gone insane, Potter?” Draco told his roommate, who was holding up a flyer excitedly in front of him. Written across the top in bold, capital letter said “PAID RESEARCH OPPORTUNITY” and just under than “Romantic Couples Study”.

“What? We’re both over eighteen, we both live together, and we get paid six thousand pounds! That’s three thousand pounds each!” Harry replied, reading off the criteria from the paper.

Draco snatched it from his hand and examined it. “Potter, we are not in a committed, monogamous romantic relationship, nor have we been dating for six months!”

“Yes, but six thousand pounds! You and I both know we need the money. It’s only a two week study, so we just have to pretend to be a couple until it’s over.” He explained. Draco crossed his arms, looking conflicted. It was bad enough that he had to share a house with the guy he fancied, but pretending to be in a relationship with him? Could he go back to being just his friend after this was over? “Come on, Draco.”

The words softened him. Of course he’d do anything for Harry bloody Potter when he was looking at him like that. “Fine.” He gave in, handing the flyer back to Harry. “But you’ll owe me, Potter.” Pointing a finger at him accusingly, Draco walked out of the room.

“More than giving you half of the money?” Harry shouted after him.

“You better buy me a present with your half!” He shouted back, hearing Harry chuckle.

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know it all — p.p.

summary : may parker can’t fathom that you and her nephew aren’t dating yet- she can’t wait forever, you know, and she knows it’s going to happen eventually. when has may ever been wrong?

word count : 3k

author’s note : long time no see?? LOL sophomore year is successfully kicking my ass but i wrote this and it’s semi long so?? 

   May Parker prides herself on a lot of things- namely, her stunning resilience in the face of immense adversity, and the way she just seems to know things. She can’t help it, it’s her not so lame superpower and she uses it on Peter all the time, much to his annoyance. She earns a roll of the eyes whenever she says something out of the blue, so profound Peter can’t help but contemplate its credibility for the hours that follow their interactions. She knows things, she does, and she knows that you and her nephew are as meant to be as her and Ben were- are, she chastises herself sometimes- and she knows it so truly in the deepest recesses of her heart that the fact that you and Peter aren’t together is something that goes right over her head. 

   “Peter, hon, when’s your girl coming over? I miss having other ladies in the house,” she says one day, interrupting the silence that had settled upon the pair  as Peter recited the periodic table of elements so naturally in his head in preparation for a quiz the following day. Peter loses track somewhere between lithium and beryllium or maybe it was phosphorus, he doesn’t know anymore, when he hears May call you that, his girl, and he shakes his head at her wildly. “What? What’d I say?” May points her wooden spoon at him, and Peter’s reminded that she’s Italian for the fifth time that day. 

   “May, she’s not- she’s not my, like, girlfriend,” he stresses each syllable the word carries, practically throwing his pencil across the table when he turns his chair to get a better view of his aunt as she prepares dinner- pasta, again, because she claims it’s the only thing she can’t possibly mess up. “You know that! Y/N’s been my best friend forever.” 

    “You realize you can be best friends with your girlfriend, don’t you?” Peter can sense May’s eyes rolling even though he can’t see her since she’s facing the stove with her back turned. “You two have definitely kissed. You can’t tell me you haven’t.” 

    Peter’s entire face feels hot when she says that, his hands clammy when he presses them together against his cheeks, placing his elbows on the table to prop his head up. “That’s embarrassing, May. Why would you ever ask me that?” He runs his hands through his hair and the gel is so terribly packed on it that the carefully prepared hairstyle comes undone with one swift movement. “We haven’t, in case you’re wondering, which I know you are because you’re nosy.” Peter feels the spoon lightly poke into his back, a playful warning. 

   “Anyways,” May continues loudly, “as I was saying before, your girlfriend should come over for dinner sometime this week. I’m making pasta.” She grins before placing a bowl of penne in front of Peter, his least favorite pasta shape. Peter scowls at the penne but picks up his fork anyway and shoves some in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully for a moment before giving May a thumbs up. At least she was proud of it. “I won’t make penne if you get her to come over.” 

    She knows she’s got him when she sees the slow, unsure nod start. He sticks his hand out, and May shakes it happily. “Only because of the penne. I want bowties. Please,” he gives his aunt his best, brightest, sweetest smile he can form, much like the ones that come so naturally when he turns his gaze to look at you- but May won’t bring that up just yet. “And don’t make girlfriend jokes in front of her.” His utensil stabs into the pasta as he thinks to himself, ‘cause if you keep it up in front of her, she’ll think I’m a weirdo and I’ll never genuinely get to call Y/N that, ever. Honestly, he’d much rather launch himself headfirst off of the Empire State Building than never get to experience kissing you, holding your hand, being with you in all those sorts of hopelessly romantic ways that he daydreams about regularly. He’s doing it again, slipping into that endless reverie he always seems to find himself lost in. But it’s okay. His mind is a chasm of soft loves and sweet words shared between the two of you. It’s a beautiful, long mess of a dream. 

   “You lost, Pete?” May snaps her fingers in front of his face, bemused. 

    “A little,” he sighs in that dreamy tone she recalls her own self indulging in so fondly in her younger years. His gaze becomes hazy again, like he’s on another plane entirely, but she lets him be. For now. 


    Peter knows he’s dressing up a little too much for just a friend. He’s spraying too much strong cologne and gelling his hair excessively and praying you won’t notice the fact that it’ll be dryer than the leaves in the wintertime, but it’s all too much for someone he insists is his best friend and his best friend alone, nothing more and nothing less, certainly not his girlfriend. Never that, right? Peter frowns at his reflection and tilts his head down, rubbing his head in attempt to remove most of the gel that had been a serious mistake in the first place. You preferred his hair curly, anyway. Not that he cared. Not in the slightest. He puts on the sweater that you once said looked lovely on him and he wears his nice jeans, the ones without that stupid hole near the butt cheek that you can’t really see unless you’re trying

   His cheeks flush when May gives a tiny, satisfied smirk upon seeing his perfectly put together outfit. He acts as if no time at all was spent on his appearance, but she knows him, like she knows everything else, and she knows that he’s been holed up in the bathroom for over twenty minutes now trying to see which shirt matched his eyes best and debating the chances of you realizing that this was the sweater you liked the most on him before he put it on and beamed at himself in the mirror. Maybe it was the color or the stitching or the fabric but he was starting to like this one much more, too. 

   “You look very handsome, sweets,” May says to him, squeezing his shoulder as she brushes past him to place a salad on the table. Peter surveys the salad with a strange look on his face. 

   “Why’d you make a salad? Since when does Y/N eat salad?” He raises his eyebrows at her, before adding with haste, “not that I don’t love your salad, Aunt May, ‘cause I do. I promise.”  

   Aunt May places her hands on her hips, peering at him through the tops of her glasses in a way that makes her look too wise for someone as young as she was. “I’m making a good impression, obviously.” 

   “You’ve known her for like ten years now, the time for good impressions is over, May. You missed your chance.”

   “This is the first time I’m seeing Y/N as your girlfriend, though!” Peter lets out the loudest groan imaginable, running his hands over his cheeks and slapping his forehead with great vexation. 

   “Still not my girlfriend,” he insists on insisting, taking the extra plates out of her busy hands and helping to set the small kitchen table. 

   May smooths back a loose strand of hair from his forehead with a kind, teasing grin on her face. “Doesn’t mean you don’t want her to be, kiddo.” 

   He can’t possibly argue with that sort of logic, especially not when his aunt hits the nail right on the head in that peculiar way she has a habit of doing, so he just smiles and kisses May on the cheek. There’s a knock on the door less than a second later, and the pair scramble for the upper hand before Peter beats her to it and nearly flies to grab the handle of it and yank it open so he can greet you accordingly, slightly out of breath with his hair flopping to one quite nicely and a joyous smile making its way across his mouth when he sees you for the first time that day. May hovers earnestly behind him, hands fluttering over her nephew’s shoulders so she can push past him to wrap you in a hug if need be. Sometimes Peter has the impression that May adores you even more than he does; he wasn’t sure if he should be glad for that, or a bit offended that you seemed to return the blatant favoritism with ardency. 

   There was a brief second where your eyes raked over your best friend’s face with soft admiration, hidden as carefully as you could manage. When you met his appreciative gaze you felt the palms of your hands clam up and so you cast your look back to his aunt and playfully pushed past him to give her a hug. 

   Peter, offense overriding his previously somewhat moonstruck expression, backed away from you when you finally turned toward him with your arms outstretched. “Oh, now I get a hug? Interesting,” he rolls his eyes in a teasing manner, unable and unwilling to conceal his little, loving smile that appeared when you pried his arms off his chest and defiantly wrapped them around yourself as you hugged him. “Didn’t seem so interested in hugging me when you were shoving me away to get to May,” he says, craning his neck to stare at you whilst continuing to drag the embrace out for as long as possible. 

   “You’re still my favorite Parker,” you reply, poking his chest lightly. Then you turn away before you can say anything else that could be considered too revealing of certain, carefully concealed feelings that had the possibility of being detrimental to a beautiful friendship that had manifested over the years into something more, but not quite, not yet. “Sort of,” you put as an afterthought, lest he get any ideas about you feeling… something for him. “Anyways, what’s for dinner, May?” You anticipate pasta, and when May announces the dish with a great flourishing of her hand, you grin. Typical, yes, but nothing if not welcomed. 

  Peter, gentleman that he is, pulls out your chair for you, and you let yourself imagine that he’s doing it as a chivalrous boyfriend and not simply a polite friend. He imagines the same, though. Imagines that he’s on a date with you and he pulls out your chair and smiles kindly and lovingly- and he basks in this image for as long as he can. May calls you over then, and the daydream is shattered. You make your way over to her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter. 

   May lowers her voice before speaking, “Y/N, I’m gonna need you to explain something to me,” she starts. You nod, raising your eyebrows at her. “Explain why you and Peter aren’t together yet. Honestly, honey, I just can’t understand it.” She talks with her hands the way Peter does. 

   “Uh- what? I, um, I don’t… understand?” Your voice cracks a little, as if having May practically shove your less than friendly feelings for Peter back in your face wasn’t embarrassing enough. “We’re, um, you know, like, friends.” 

   Her hand waves dismissively, pushing that sentence away. “No, no, see that’s what he said, too! I have to disagree. I know everything, kiddo, and I know that you two are going to make it as a couple, so if that’s what your afraid of, don’t be. Go for it. I see the same thing in him that I see in you right now, and that thing is love. So, I’m going to need you to go make my nephew the happiest kid on Earth and tell him you’re falling in love with him, and you’ll see that he’s going to say the same thing to you. Trust me. Aunt May knows all,” she shrugs in a casual manner, brushing her confidence off, before she steers you around and gently pushes you back toward the tiny dining room table where Peter sits awkwardly fiddling with his thumbs with his lip caught between his teeth. 

   “Hi,” you almost whisper, settling down in your seat across from him. 

   He glances up. “Hey,” he says, smiling again. A reflex, in your presence. He clears his throat, then asks, “So, what’d you and May talk about?” He knows May loves him as if he were her son, which for all intents and purposes he is, but he can’t be sure of her secrecy. He wouldn’t put it past his aunt to let slip “accidentally” that he liked you, loved you, cared for you. 

   You take a sip of your glass of water that Peter must have filled in your absence from the table. You had a tendency to take sips of your drink when in uncomfortable conversations, or conversations you felt nervous in. He notes that. “Oh, um, nothing really… but if were gonna talk about it, I’d wanna do it in, like, private?” You twirl your straw around your drink, mixing the ice in the glass. Peter abruptly stands from his chair. You watch him sling a jacket around his shoulders and throw one of his sweaters at you, which you catch easily. “You wanna go now?” 

   He nods, licking his lips anxiously. “No better time than the present, right?” If you’re going to confront him and crush his heart with a single sentence that stands along the lines of I see you as a friend, he wants it done sooner rather than later. He wants it over with, so he can go back to his suffering in comfortable silence and start an attempt to move past this crush the way he had easily drifted away from his crush on Liz Allan. You fumble with the sweater as you stand. “May, we’re gonna step out for a bit!” Peter announces, opening the front door of his apartment and letting you slip out first. He doesn’t wait for her response before he disappears, too. May watches the two of you leave and feels her heart grow twice its size. 

  You’re standing outside the apartment building ten minutes later in the chilly autumn breeze, thankful for the cologne scented sweater that rests over your body like a warm blanket. Peter’s hands are never cold, and so they linger outside of his pockets as opposed to yours, shoved inside the front pocket of the sweater he’s given you. He reaches for your hands wordlessly and rubs them over his. “You’re always freezing,” he laughs quietly, lacing his fingers through yours with a new burst of confidence that you find endearing as you squeeze his hands. “Hey, wanna know something? You might know it already but, I figure I should tell you myself, if you wanna know.” He swings his hands back and forth, and yours swing along with his. 

   “Yeah, please,” you insist, twisting your head to the side to sweep the windswept hair out of your face. One of Peter’s hands comes up to brush it out of the way, typical and cliche and an overplayed move but none of that matters when the action is being carried out, because it makes your stomach constrict in that funny way and your heart melt into a puddle on the dirty sidewalk. His fingers linger over the softness of your cheek, and he keeps his hand there to see what you’ll say about it. You say nothing, let remain there. “You gonna tell me or not?” 

  “Should I- I could maybe…” he sucks on the bottom of his lip. “Forget it, I don’t know how to speak properly around you like this.” You start to protest, demand he tell you because you won’t be able to stop thinking about this if he doesn’t, but every word dies before it can touch the edge of your lips. Peter has his head lowered down toward you and he’s kissing you, a thought that’s crossed your mind more times than you were able to count but now, it’s happening. Real lips pressed against yours feverishly, shyness forgotten in the heat of the moment. When he pulls away first, it returns and collides with him as if he’s hit a brick wall, and his cheeks burn red. He makes no move to back away, still. “D-Did I step out of line? Was that okay? Do you hate me? ‘Cause if you do we can go back upstairs or you can leave and then on Monday we can pretend that this never happened because you’re still my best friend no matter what even if it’s awkward-” 

   Your hands clasp together around the back of his neck as you yank him down toward you again, and this time you kiss him back. You can feel him smiling so hard it makes it difficult to kiss him, but when you break away to tell him that, he just laughs and smiles harder and keeps kissing you. He doesn’t know how to stop now that’s he had the opportunity. You’re both laughing hysterically and trying to kiss properly and his nose bumps against yours repeatedly, and it’s the most perfect first kiss in the world. 

   He keeps his hand firmly grasped in yours when you go back upstairs to his seventh floor apartment, opens the door for you and everything. May is sitting at the table, turns her head to the both of you and peers at you from the top of her glasses. Peter raises his hand and yours, triumphant. May claps her hands together as he, your boyfriend, declares proudly, “Aunt May, I would like to formally introduce you to my girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N, who I hope will be sticking around?” He looks to you for reassurance, and gets what he needs from the happy kiss you bestow upon the side of his face. 

   “I told you two I know everything!” Is what breaks the joyous silence, and then the laughter starts again; a perfectly lovely family. 

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BTS Reaction - sex while camping

A/N: Here’s for that anon that requested this! You also requested something else, which I’m going to write as well so I hope you look forward to that! I love you.

Warning: mature themes below 

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anonymous asked:

REDDIE PROMPT WHERE THEYRE IN COLLEGE AND RICHIE IS ALWAYS LATE TO SCHOOL AND EDDIE IS JUST LIKE THIS GUY IS CUTE SO LEMMIE JUST,, “HEY DUDE,, YOU NEED A RIDE OR SOME SHIT??” AND THATS HOW THEY END UP MAKING OUT AND ~STUFF IN EDDIES CAR, SKIPPING CLASS THE NEXT DAY

Okay so first off I’m really sorry that this took me so long to get to whoever requested it. this was seriously one of the first requests I got and I should have tried to get it done sooner. that being said I really liked how it turned out and I hope everyone does too!!


Eddie, like most university students absolutely hated morning classes. He seriously had no clue why they were a thing. It should be a law that school can’t start until 9AM. Minimum.

He blamed Bill for the early morning torture he had signed up for. Bill didn’t want to take creative writing alone and since it technically fulfilled Eddie’s English credit requirement, Eddie thought it would be a good idea.

He was completely wrong.

So now instead of having a nice relaxing morning to sleep in he had to wake up at 6 in the morning and drive for 45 minutes in morning traffic, all while hating himself, just to sit through a class that he didn’t really like.

It’s not that he didn’t like it exactly. He just never had anything to write about. Bill could just pull ideas out of his ass while had Eddie struggled to think of a topic for the prompt “Write anything”. There was a reason Eddie had gone the medical route. All he had to do for that was know stuff, and seeing that his mother had basically made him live in the ER when he was younger, he knew quite a bit.

Eddie sat at his desk with his head down, his arms wrapped around him, blocking any light from hitting his eyes. He popped one eye out when he heard something being placed in front of him.

Bill had arrived offering a peace treaty of coffee and a bagel for the campus coffee shop. Eddie reached his hand out and pulled the bagel into his little ‘cave’, nibbling on it sleepily. Bills morning treats were one of the two things Eddie liked about this class.

“Oh come on Eddie, waking up early isn’t that bad.” Bill chirped, much too lively for Eddie to handle at the current time.

“That’s because you’re used to it with your stupid hikes and stuff,” Eddie grumbled pulling the coffee towards him, he was going to try to drink it with his head still down but decided he wanted to start the morning drinking the coffee, not wearing it. So he sat up and rested his head on his hand, looking over at Bill.

“If you came with me sometime, you’d also be okay with waking up early.” Bill replied taking his seat beside Eddie and pulling a binder out of his bag.

Eddie just responded with a sound and reached down to pull his binder out as well.

The teacher started class shortly after that, something about antagonists. The coffee was really doing its job, and Eddie slowly felt less like he wanted to kill someone and more like a solid punch would be okay.

About 20 minutes into the teacher talking and taking mindless notes, the door handle clicked and the door swung open. Since the door was at the front of the room everyone’s attention turned from the teacher to the guy at the door.

He was the other thing Eddie like about the class.

So what if Eddie had a crush on some guy he’d never spoken to, he wasn’t afraid to admit it. accept he was. Not even Bill, who he would consider his best friend knew about the weird crush he had on the guy from their creative writing class that would always come in late.

Like seriously it was almost impressive how consistently late he was.

“Mr. Tozier. Please take your seat.” The teacher instructed without looking over at the door.

Eddie had found out his name was Richie by maybe Facebook stalking him the first time he had heard his last name.

Richie saluted to the teacher and crossed the room to his seat at the back corner of the room. Eddie slyly turned his head to watch him walk to his desk. He fist bumped with the redhead he always sat with as he took his seat.

Eddie assumed that was his girlfriend by the way they acted together. That didn’t mean he couldn’t look, right?

So that was how Eddie spent most of his mornings, barely listening to lectures and sneakily glancing over his shoulder at the hot guy that sat at the back of the class. Once Richie got there the class seem to move a lot faster.

The teacher wrapped up her lesson and dismissed everyone. Eddie had been zoning out looking out the window for the past ten minutes so when Bill shook his shoulder his head jerked down in surprise. Everyone was packing up.

He was looking up at Bill confused when he heard a laugh come from the back of the room. He looked over his shoulder to see Richie covering his mouth with his hand and staring right at him.

Eddie quickly spun around to face the front of the room.

Had he zoned out staring at Richie? He didn’t think so but he couldn’t be sure. Great now Richie was going to think he was some weirdo who stares at people blankly during class. He shot out of his chair, threw his backpack on, and grabbed his binder from the desk. Rushing out of the room, leaving a very confused Bill at behind.

He stopped when he was in the hallway and moved out of the way of other students trying to get to class. Leaning against the wall he waited for Bill, hoping he would get the memo and hurry after him before Richie left the classroom.

Of course he didn’t and Eddie stood there, sinking further down the wall, trying to be as unnoticeable as possible when Richie and the red head walked out of the class and right passed him. The girl was talking as they passed but Richie turned from her to look straight at Eddie and laugh.

Eddie was sure his face was bright red. How was he supposed to come to class after this?

Bill followed shortly after and found Eddie by the wall, red-faced and slightly freaking out. The two left the building, Eddie refusing to explain to Bill what was going on. They meet Mike out on campus and walked to the next class together.

Eddie felt like he was having a midlife crisis at twenty. He made it through the rest of the day and headed home that evening dreading coming back to school the next day.

But of course the next day came. And Eddie hated missing classes, even stupid morning ones where the guy he liked was there and would probably laugh at him and God Eddie really hoped Bill brought something really good this morning because the other reason he went to this class was really stressing him out. The weather mimicked his mood as it began to rain.

He resentfully got into his car and realized he was actually earlier than usual. Great, so now he was going to get to class extra early and have to sit there and wait for like half an hour. 

Absolutely not.

Eddie decided to take a longer route than he normally did, hopefully killing enough time so that he would just get to class on time.

He turned down an unfamiliar road and followed it for a bit. Getting slightly lost and unable to see the street signs through the rain. He turned down another side street, this one seeming to be completely dead. Completely dead except for a single person walking along the sidewalk.

They had a hood pulled over their head and they were soaking wet.

Why would anyone be walking right now, there were bus stops everywhere and by how wet they were, it was pretty obvious that they had been walking for a while.

Eddie slowed his car down and watched them. It wasn’t until he got relatively close that he realized who it was.

Of fucking course, it was Richie. Who else would it be. Eddie must have pissed off some god. what else would explain the slim chance that the one person he was trying to avoid was the only person walking down a street that Eddie never went down.

He was about to step on the gas and get as far away as he could but stopped when he noticed Richie shivering.

It was too early to be dealing with moral dilemmas. Eddie slowed his car down even more and stayed about a car length behind Richie as he walked. Maybe he had his car park somewhere up here and was just walking to it.

“I’m not being creepy; I’m being a concerned classmate.” Eddie justified to himself as he followed Richie for another block.  

When two more blocks passed Eddie was convinced Richie planned to walk the whole way. But there was no way, the university campus was still another fifteen-minute drive.

Eddie took a deep breath and speed up a bit coming to a stop a little in front of Richie. He rolled his window down and stuck his head just out of the window

“Hey there.” He called, immediately mentally slapping himself. he probably looked like the biggest stalker right now.

Richie looked over at him confused before recognition filled his face and he pulled an earbud out and approached Eddie’s car.

“Hey yourself, you’re from writing class right?” Richie asked as he leaned an arm on the top of Eddie’s car. Eddie honestly didn’t know which would have been worse. If he recognized him or if he didn’t. this was pretty bad.

“Yeah,” Eddie said laughing awkwardly. This was worst. “So um, are you planning on walking to class today?” He continued, trying to get right to the point. Eddie wasn’t the best “small talker”.

“Yeah, I was. It is such a beautiful day. Shame to waste it.” Richie joked nodding up towards the sky. Eddie laughed awkwardly again. He wasn’t serious, was he. Eddie wasn’t 100% sure but he figured it would take another 30 to 45 minutes to get to the campus from here.

“I’m heading that way if you want to um, catch a ride with me or something,” Eddie asked.

Richie stared down at him and smiled.

“I’d get your car all wet. But thanks for the offer. I’ll see you in class.” Richie said as he pushed off from Eddie car and headed back to the sidewalk. Eddie didn’t move for a few seconds before inching forward and stopping just in front of Richie again.

“This cars pretty shitty already, and if you walk from here you’ll be late.” Eddie pointed out

“But if I’m not late what will your excuse be for watching me walk to my seat.” Richie laughed as Eddie’s face lit up. He started to stutter which only made Richie laugh harder.

“Okay, okay I’ll take the ride if you calm down, I was just joking,” Richie said between breaths as he approached the car, this time rounding the front. Eddie rolled his window up gawking at where Richie had been. He saw his reflection in the closed window and saw how red his face was. Well, he had gotten what he wanted.

Richie pulled the passenger seat open shook off as much water as he could before entering the car.

Without saying anything, Eddie stepped on the gas and sped off towards school.

“So do you offer rides to all the boys you stare at or am I just special?” Richie asked after a few minutes of silence past between them. Eddie’s eyes widened as he drove.

“I don’t stare at you.” Eddie defended, biting his lip.

“You sure about that?” Richie laughed, looking at the side of Eddie’s face. Eddie could see the disbelieving look Richie was giving him from the corner of his eye.

“Okay, so what if I stare at you.” Eddie challenged. He had no clue where the sudden confidence was coming from but he knew that he needed it to get through the rest of this car ride.

Richie looked taken aback by his answer for a second before a smile broke out across his face.

“I do too.” He said, still grinning at Eddie. Eddie turned his head from the road to look over at Richie in surprise.

“W-what” He stuttered, turning back to face the road when he almost ran into the car in front of him.

Richie laughed again from beside him.

“Yeah, all the time. You do some pretty cute things in class. Like almost falling asleep.” Richie turned to look out the front window. “I was going to talk to you after class yesterday actually, but you looked like you were going through some stuff.”

Eddie was beyond confused. Was he on some kind of TV show. There was no way that this was his real life right now. Eddie made the turn into the student parking lot and pulled into his parking spot.

“That was umm, nothing. Forget about yester…” Eddie said turning to face Richie, who had quietly moved his face so it was right in front of Eddie’s when he turned. Eddie froze and stared. Richie leaned in slightly closer

“I never asked for your name,” Richie whispered leaning in even closer.

“um, E-Eddie.” He whispered back, unable to move.

“well Eds, Thanks for the ride.” He placed his hand on Eddie’s thigh.

Eddie was the one who finally closed the gap between them. He softly pressed his lips against Richie. Richie hesitated for a second, thrown off my Eddie’s boldness but quickly gathered himself and pressed back.

The soft kiss quickly escalated into Richie leaning over the console to push Eddie back against the driver’s door. Eddie, not wanting to be upstaged in the impromptu make-out session was the one to intensify the kiss by licking his tongue along Richie’s bottom lip

Richie moaned at the feeling. He returned the favor by pressing Eddie harder into the door and exploring his mouth with his tongue.

This is really not how Eddie saw today going. Like, he wasn’t going to complain but it really was a curveball.

Eddie pushed on Richie’s shoulders and they separated, panting for breath but not moving too far from the other.

“Wait, wait. Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Eddie asked starting to panic. He was not down with being a homewrecker.

“Girlfriend? Who Bev?” Richie looked extremely confused and then he laughed loudly when Eddie blushed a deeper shade of red.

Richie raised his hand to Eddie’s cheek and kiss him lightly.

“Bev is like my best friend, almost like an annoying little sister. I’m only taking this class because of her.” He reassured before leaning in to kiss Eddie again. Eddie kissed back enthusiastically before abruptly pulling back.

“Fuck. Class.” Eddie shrieked looking down at the clock. They were ten minutes late to class.

“Shit.” Eddie reached into the back seat and grabbed his backpack before throwing the driver seat door open. Richie laughed as he watched him, and jumped out of the car. Eddie grabbed his hand instinctively and pulled him as he ran towards the English building.

He flung the classroom door open, dropping Richie’s hand and froze when everyone turned to stare at him. Eddie dropped his head and half ran over to his spot, where Bill was gaping up at him. Eddie dropped down beside him and hid his face in his arms.

A second later he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll take another ride sometime,” Richie whispered into his ear as he walked past him towards his seat.

Eddie’s entire face lit up but he smiled into his arms.

Today definitely didn’t turn out the way he thought it would. And he was definitely okay with that.


Hope everyone liked it!


Tag list (I’ll get it right this time!)

@smol-and-annoying @donvex @richietoaster @reddieornotasshole @williumbyers @eds-trashmouth @curlylemonhead @gazebo-reddie  

Some Hunk’s family headcanons:

- Hunk has two mums, and he calls them Mom and Tina (note: multiple websites have confirmed that Tina is the Samoan word for Mom, if I am using it incorrectly please don’t hesitate to let me know). His Mom is a black lesbian from New York and his Tina is a bisexual samoan woman! They live together in an apartment in NYC with their golden labrador named Sunny.

-His Mom is warm and kind, a cascade of black curls around twinkling eyes. She teaches him the secret to the best cocoa, and reads him stories about astronauts and wizards, then smooths back his hair and tells him that he can do anything he dreams of. The bookshelves are crammed with books about space, glossy pages covered in galaxies that they pore over together, fingers tracing diagrams of spaceships. You could do this his mom whispers into his ear, don’t let anything hold you back, if you want to explore the stars then you can get there, I know you can. His Mom is the woman who smiles like the sun, knits him scarfs every winter, and buys her wife a flower whenever she passes a florist, but Hunk knows well that her warm kindness is built over a layer of steely determination, and it is when he is in danger, when the galra are surrounding him on all sides that he hears her voice willing him on, your name is Hunk Garrett and you’re kind, brave and smart. You will save your friends, you can do this.

-His Tina has the loudest laugh in the room and spreads a love of life to whoever she meets. She makes pancakes in the mornings, singing along to the radio and dancing with the dog, winking at Hunk before giving him extra syrup. When Hunk was younger he thought she had magic hands, for what else could be the secret behind her flourishing balcony garden and all the cars that she brought back to life? When he confessed that to her she swept him up into a hug that smelt like engine oil and chocolate (a surprisingly nice scent) and promised to teach him how to be magic too. Together they spent afternoons with their hands among gears and wires, her smooth, patient voice explaining how it all worked, the sunlight turning her brown eyes gold. Whilst his Mom has her head in the stars, his Tina has her hands in the earth, grounding the whole family with her blunt honesty and unwavering loyalty. When Hunk’s hands shake as he bends over a smashed up alien ship, it’s his Tina’s voice that instructs him to breathe, calm down, you’ve got this, now start from the root of the problem and work your way up. 

-His parents run a repair shop for vehicles, his Mom runs the accounts, whilst his Tina does the engineering. Hunk spent his younger years sorting screws into jars and braiding unused wires into bracelets. When he reaches middle school he helps his Tina with the engineering, his Mom with the organising and the customers with their paperwork. It’s not unusual to pass Garrett Repairs and hear the bubble of light hearted conversation and the bright notes of a young boy’s laughter. A rainbow flay hangs behind the register, fluttering gently in the breeze from an open window, a battered radio plays music that Hunk and his Tina sing along with. Hunk spends an entire afternoon repainting the sign outside the door a bright yellow, the same colour as the sunflower on their balcony at home. 

-Because his moms worked so hard everyday, when they got home they were often too tired to cook, so Hunk learned how to cook and bake so that he could look after them and so that he could sit and have dinner with his parents every night. A collection of herbs fill up a corner of the kitchen, a brightly coloured oven mitt hangs on the wall and the scent of apple tart wafts through the room. (Hunk spends many nights on the Castle Ship desperately missing the cozy evenings filled with home-cooked food, gentle smiles and bubbling conversation as the sun sets through the window. He imagines a cold, dark apartment with empty microwave meal packs in the bin and two anxious mothers waiting for their boy to come home)

-Every Sunday they all take Sunny out for a walk, always stopping for ice-cream/hot chocolate halfway through.( ‘We’ve been walking so far that we need the extra sugar!’ clucks his Tina, tugging on the ear flaps of Hunk’s hat with a mischievous wink) Hunk pretends to be embarrassed when his parents hold hands and share lattes, then runs shrieking, after his Tina throws snowballs at him (They return home an hour later, dripping wet, and his Mom takes photos whilst his Tina starts a fire and Hunk boils the kettle for tea)

-His parents pay for every textbook, school trip and museum visit that Hunk requires, never allowing money to hold their son back from seeing the stars. It’s watching the mailman hand over a glossy new textbook and a red bill that gives Hunk a determination that beats even his Mom’s, a will of iron to do what is right and make his family proud.

-His Mom finds an online forum of young astronaut hopefuls, and it’s there that he meets a boy named Lance, who wants to be the pilot to his engineer. They stream movies together in the evenings, and play videos games, tag-teaming all the other players and whooping into their mics. Lance understands Hunk’s need to succeed for his family, and they share in their dreams of being important, of being etched into the history of the human race. They skype as often as they can, discussing tips on how to get into the Garrison, exclaiming in excitement then shock over the Kerberos mission. ‘I’m going to be the first Samoan in space’ says Hunk, staring down at his acceptance letter, ‘I’m going to be the first openly bisexual person in space!’ whoops Lance, waving his own letter at his webcam.

-When he first meets Lance, they run towards each other across the airport screaming and crying (Lance later denies the tears, but Hunk has a video of their first hug and the wet patch left on the shoulder of his shirt)

-Hunk skypes his parents from the Garrison every Monday, giggling as he watches them try to figure out how it works, and sharing everything he possibly can with them about what he’s doing and the things that he’s building. In return they fill him in on all the gossip from home, Sunny’s new trick, and messages for him from regular customers. (Sometimes Hunk sits in his lion and imagines missed calls pinging through on his computer back at the garrison, wondering what is happening in their little corner of New York and watching tears drip onto the Yellow Lion’s controls)

-A missing person poster is stuck in the window of the repair shop, the yellow paint on the sign fades and cracks, spices gather dust on the counter and a sunflower that once stood tall and proud, withers and slumps as the petals fall off one by one. His Mom who once walked tall and strong, pulls her mass of curls back into a bun and marches round every government agency and police station she can find, her feet bleeding inside her too-small ‘professional’ heels. A woman who once saw every hope and adventure in the stars, now only sees a gaping void that swallowed up her son. Inside her head she blames herself for pushing Hunk too far, forgetting that their love of space was shared, and instead convincing herself that she forced Hunk down a path that he didn’t want to tread. Sunny lies on Hunk’s bed every night, doleful brown eyes waiting for her favorite person to come home, unable to understand that he may not ever return to her. His Tina’s laugh dries up, and her hands shake when she remembers a laughing boy bathed in sunlight. She kneels on the balcony and stares up at the stars blocked out by the light pollution and whispers ‘bring my boy home, bring him back to me, he is kind and smart and wonderful in every way. bring him home.’ 

- Millions of light years away, Hunk remembers a boy who wanted to explore the cosmos, and weeps as his battle-scarred heart aches for a tiny apartment, a fluttering rainbow flag, a dog that lies on his feet, and his two mothers.           ‘Tell the stars hello from me!’ calls his Mom as she waves him goodbye at the airport, ‘See you at Christmas!’ his Tina beams, blowing him kisses, ‘I’ll be back before you know I’m gone!’ Hunk replies, giving them a wave before walking through the security gate. 

The King of Hawkins Goes Soft

Summary: The reader helps chaperone the winter formal, which leads to a very eventful night involving the King of Hawkins. 

Word Count: 2648

Song Pairing: Talking in your Sleep- the romantics https://youtu.be/PtxiZItyYh8

authors note: kinda spoilers for season two? This also doesn’t 100% follow the plot! I had SO much fun writing this!! Let me know what you think!! (single mom Steve is the best Steve)


You smiled to yourself watching the event unfold. Steve was giving some version of a pep talk to Dustin before the winter formal, and you laughed as you saw the deal sealed with a handshake.

Dustin walked by you with a huge grin, “Hey (y/n)!”. He saluted you, and you saluted back matching his grin. You winked, “Good luck tonight soldier”.

By now Steve had parked his car, and was resting against the hood. You walked over to him, “What are you doing here? Hate to break it to ya but you’re a little too old-”.

Steve crossed his arms over his chest, laughing while shaking his head. He smiled, “I gotta keep an eye on the little shits”.

Keep reading

Submit To Me - Dylan O’Brien

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Dylan O’Brien/Reader

Word Count: 15,061

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Public Teasing, Public Masturbation, Teasing in the car and in the bedroom, pleading, seduction, striping Dylan because he’s sexy as fuck, dry humping, thigh riding, hand jobs, face riding, handcuffs, blindfolds, 69 (aka oral male and female receiving), overstimulation, praising, orgasm denial, female riding male (regular and reverse cowgirl), whiny Dylan, mentions of dominant Dylan, A lot of submissive Dylan, BREATHY MOANS

Notes: I will make this short as I am writing this pool side from hell. I’m so sorry this took forever. I have no excuses. But hopefully it was worth it. I honestly don’t know if this is my best writing for what you guys wanted from this. I promise the next thing I write won’t take as long. 

Keep reading

“It’s My Job” protective!harry

Authors Note: Guess who’s back after a long ass hiatus. I had some free time and magically got a request so I'm convinced that yall can feel my lack of busyness. Anyways here it is I hope you enjoy, this is dedicated to my baby Carolina aka @antisocialandcute stay strong babes and I love you.Credits to eve created the gif, I legit got it off google search lol/ Enjoy and find more of my writing here 

Warnings: Mild violence

Request:  Could you write something about a similar situation happening in between harry and the misses like the one that happened with louis and el at the airport? Maybe a bad fan experience and and protective!harry?


To say that you were two were tired would be a complete understatement. The travel back from Holmes Chapel back to New York wore you out every time you and Harry chose to visit Anne and his family. You spent most of your flight snuggling into each other and catching blissful Zzzs as your private plane took you home. But alas your privacy wouldn’t last long, after your seven and half hour flight you still had to make it through the terminal and drive home. This wouldn’t be that big of a challenge, except your boyfriend just so happens to be Harry Styles and traveling with him means being met with annoying paps and angsty fans at almost every corner. You held onto Harry’s as you entered the terminal, he kept you behind but as close as he could knowing how bad it can get when the paps are involved. It was not long before you two finally encountered a pap, Harry tried his best to use his charm giving the pap a wave and a half-hearted cheeky smile but it wasn’t enough. This pap was determined to bother you, his camera constantly flashing in your direction shouting your name and snapping at you to get your attention as if you wee some type of dog.

“(Y/N)!(Y/N)!(Y/N! Look over here doll face!  I won’t bite hard cutie!”

You heard Harry let out a small growl, the tone territorial and annoyed. He pulled you in front of him swiftly, his forearm securely wrapped around your torso.

“Listen to me kitten, I need you to go ahead of me”, he whispered in your ear.

“Wha-Why? “

“I’m going to get rid of this asshole and once I do I will be right back beside you”, he glared at the pap as he continued his slur of perverted comments.

“Are you sure”.

“ ‘solutely, I’m right behind you love.just speed walk as fast as you can and I’ll be there soon”, he assured you. You nodded your head agreeing to the plan, Harry placed a kiss on your forehead before letting you go from his grasp.

You immediately began to pick up your speed, trying your hardest to not look back at Harry and the pap. So caught up in your own movement you didn’t realize that the pap was the least of your problems. The fans caught word that you and Harry were now exiting the terminal, while some were lined up outside two had found their way to the gate you had exited from.

“(Y/N)! Can we get a picture please”

Despite the pap situation, you didn’t see the harm in taking 2 minutes to take a picture with the two fans.

“Why of course”, you smiled walking toward the girls. As one girl held up her camera and posed with you other went behind the two of you.

It all happened too fast. The camera went off. You let out a small laugh. Next thing you knew you were on the floor. The girl behind you had pulled your hair and the one by your side had smashed your face with her phone.

Your initial shock prevented you from reacting, but you heard Harry’s voice yelling your name which instantly snapped you out of your shock. You brought yourself to your feet, the girls’ steel crowding around wiggling as you gained your balance.  

You felt the anger rush over you but just before you could swing your arm to clock one of the girls in the jaw, Harry had already come running toward you picking you up and pulling you away from the girls.

“What’s wrong(Y/N), can’t defend yourself”

“She always makes Harry do all the work, lazy bitch”

You pushed against Harry trying to break from his grasp. “Harry let me go! Let me go! They can’t just get away with that”. Harry placed you down and cupped your cheeks, still holding you back from attacking the girls.

“(Y/N) look at me. Hey hey look at me !”, you tried your best keep from making eye contact with him. You never got angry or cared about what people have to say for the most part, but this was different. They touched you and that couldn’t be taken lightly.

“(Y/N) please. I will never let anyone hurt you again, that starts by getting you out of here. ‘S not worth it”.

You knew he was right and you hated him and loved him for it.You let out a huff,”Okay let’s go “.

He placed a kiss on your forehead and whispered a thank you before wrapping his arm around you and guiding you out of the terminal

Once you two arrived home, Harry treated you to a bubble bath and your favorite takeout. He apologized over and over again for not being there when you needed him most, each time you shut him down not wanting him to feel guilty for something he could not control. As Harry washes the dishes, you walked into the kitchen and wrapped your arms around his torso.

”Thank you”, you mumbled as you kissed bicep.

”For what”, he turned  around placing a kiss on your lips and stroking your

“Protecting me today”, you smiled as you looked up into his eyes.

Harry let out a slight snicker, making you smile slightly fall

“What’s so funny?”, you pouted crossing your arms”

“You thanking me for doing my job”. His hands pulled your arms apart pulling you close to him.

“Well I like being polite”

“And I like protecting my baby”, Harry smile beamed down at you before leaning down and kissing your lips.

It Wasn’t Real (part one)

Summary: You’re part of the infamous Loser’s Club, and often asked, what are you afraid of? You reply, nothing, but what your friends don’t know is that your biggest fear is them.

prologue - one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight - nine - ten - eleven - finale

A/N: So literally i was overwhelmed by the amount of love and support I got for this story. Once again THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! I’m actually so excited to start this series and I have so many ideas bubbling around in my head, so please enjoy.

There’s something’s i need to make clear before we get started. The rest of the story (except for the first part) will happen four years after the events in IT Chapter One. I know that sounds weird but it will get better I promise! This is also sort of an AU mainly because IT will come back sooner than twenty-seven years, which doesn’t happen in the book. So it’s like based off the original story but isn’t at the same time?? It will all make sense! And there will be an Character x Reader ending, but i’ve closed down the poll as of now until we get further into the story! Right now, Richie is leading!

Anyways… I hope you all enjoy this story! Oh! And Henry hasn’t die in my story, as well as his father. Everything else is the same.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. It doesn’t have to be long, I appreciate every single comment I receive and telling me just helps inspire me to write it more frequently.

Pairing: Loser’s Club x Reader, slight Henry x Reader (you’ll see)

Warnings: force, bullying, depressing and sad tones.

Tag’s List: @chalatea
wanna be featured? message me letting me know!


Originally posted by kingkaspbrak

It wasn’t real.

It seemed that maybe it was. When time passes, friends tend to forget each other. It was an unsaid thing. No friendships last forever, no matter hard you tried to make them. But something in you had always told you that when it came to the Loser’s Club that wasn’t true.

You’d been wrong.

Separated from those you called your family, everyone started drifting apart. Some of them still talked, like Eddie and Richie or Bill and Beverly, but in the end, no one really was as close as they use to.

It was almost as if they’d forgotten, stopped believing in what you all experienced. And you couldn’t understand why. Because while everyone was off moving on, forgetting, you only seemed to remember. You tried. Tried and fought and screamed and yelled for them, but it was like you were standing in the back, watching as their back turns. Watching Richie look away, watching Eddie follow or Bill turn and Beverly distance herself. You saw less and less of Mike, Ben never left the library and Stan… Stan wouldn’t even look at you.

Soon it was just you, just like IT had teased, and you were alone.

So, no, Bill, it was real.

Three Years Later…

You let out a breath of relief as the school bell rung, signalling the end of class. English class today in particular had been boring and repetitive, some idiot decided to back talk the teacher so the majority of the class was spent with Ms. Green lecturing you all. It would’ve been fine, had that not meant that your pile of homework had grown significantly larger in size.

Gathering your binder and books, you quickly stuffed them into your bag. Though when you looked up, you noticed that most of the students were already out and sighed. It meant the hallways were going to be cramped with people, and it was the end of the day.

Knowing it was inevitable either way, you slipped your backpack over your shoulders calmly and pulled the straps. “Have a nice weekend, Ms. Green.” You waved at your teacher. She may have just spent an hour yelling at you all and then the last half talking about what you had to catch up on, but she was nice when she wanted to be.

“You as well, Y/N.” She shortly replied, not sparring you a glance. You hesitated a moment, watching the way her eyes didn’t even move to say goodbye before sighing and making her way out the door. The hallway wasn’t as bad as you expected, which was a breath of relief. Quickly, you made your way down the hall, turned a right and low and behold there stood your locker.

Putting in the combination, you begin organizing what you’d need over the weekend and what you wouldn’t. Though, your moment of peace was quickly interrupted when the door of your locker was slammed to the side. You jumped, letting out a bewildered shock and turned to see who had so rudely disturbed you only to find a face you hadn’t wanted to see.

“Hey, babe.” Henry greeted, smiling down at you. Henry Bowers, the same Henry Bowers who use to bully you and your friends back in middle school. Of course, Henry confessed he doesn’t ever remember doing such a thing. I’d remember a pretty face like yours

Refusing the urge to shiver, you sent a short smile at him; “Jesus, Henry. You nearly gave me a heart attack.” He only shrugged, as if he didn’t care. Smiling through the discomfort, you grabbed your locker door, moving it off of the next one and Henry wasted no time leaning against it.

Henry Bowers had been sent back two years, making him in the exact same grade as you, of course he was eighteen already. Though, that didn’t mean he acted any more mature. 

“So, you coming with us to the pit tonight?” Henry asked, looking lazily over at you. Setting your final textbook in your locker, you shut the door with a soft thud; “us?”

“Belch and me.” He clarified. You hated Belch, all he did was well… belch. And it disgusted you, but it seemed no matter what him and Henry stayed friends. At least some things were the same. “Oh, and I believe Amy will be joining us.” 

“Oh,” you mumbled. “I don’t think I wi-”

“Why not?” Henry interrupted, cutting whatever you’d been about to say off.

You shifted uncomfortably, taking a tentative step back when Henry straightened out. You should probably just go, Henry would back off if you did. But you really did not want to spend the night in some dingy corner of the town with belching Belch and bitchy Amy. “My mom… she wants me home tonight.”

“Your mom?” Henry laughed, as if that was the craziest thing you’d ever said. Leaning down, he didn’t ask when he grabbed your wrist; “your mom never wants you home. Come on, it’ll be fun.” Fun for you, you wanted to say, but knew better. Knowing nothing you could say would allow you to stay home, you let Henry drag you off into the direction of the school doors.

You zoned out whatever he’d been saying, loosing yourself in your mind. At least it was the weekend, you told yourself, after tonight you wouldn’t have to speak to anyone, let alone see anyone. Of course, two days only lasted so long… Weekends use to be filled with adventure back in middle school… of course you were a child then and so was everyone else… but, it had been an adventure.

“Agh…” 

Turning your head, you were pulled from your thoughts as a familiar head walked by. You could almost swear… Time seemed to freeze, as the person’s head floated before you, but then suddenly it was gone. Looking down, you heard the thud as their body smacked against the ground. 

“Watch where you’re going, freak.” Henry laughed, shoving his hand into Belch’s stomach in excitement. You hadn’t even noticed Belch join you…

Looking over at the body, you didn’t move as they slowly moved to their hands and knees. You of course, felt bad, put no part of you wanted to help them. You only stared with a lazy eye, your wrist still in Henry’s grasp. It was only when their head turned up to glare at your boyfriend did you feel an reaction flood through you.

“Eddie…” You whispered, gaining a strange reaction from Henry and Belch. Seeing their gaze, you moved to look away before your eye caught Eddie’s. There laid Eddie, the same Eddie you used to constantly worry over and mother, on his knees, blood pooling from his chin where he’d smacked it against the ground.

His eye met you, but you didn’t do anything. 

Soon he groaned in pain, Henry had kicked him. Henry leaned forward, towering over the boy; “stay down.” And before you knew it, the grasp on your wrist tugged and you were off.


You gripped your jacket sleeves with force, watching as your breath formed before you in the cool evening air. You hated walking home alone, especially at night. It was when you saw things, things that shouldn’t be there but were. But of course, Henry hadn’t wanted to walk you home, so that left only one other option.

You laughed out into the bitter air, when did Henry ever wanna walk you home?

It’d caused many fights before, back when you first started dating. You didn’t want to stay out that later (or go out at all) but of course Henry wanted to, so you did. You’d stay out all night, doing whatever dumb thing him and his friends could think off until the sun had set and you could no longer see past you clearly. You’d beg him to walk you home, but he’d only shove you away and continue hanging with his friends.

Though, you guessed the moment of peace gave you time to think. Think about whatever. It never really was the same.

You let your eyes wander above you, to the night sky, viewing the many stars as you walked the streets of your neighbourhood. You were close, thankfully. It was January, meaning a new year and christmas had just passed. That also meant many houses still had there christmas lights up, too lazy to take them down and you could view the bright colourful lights in peace.

It wasn’t often you saw so much colour in your life nowadays.

Your feet made a crunching noise as you stepped into the snow, a sound you loved very much. There was nothing but colourful lights, empty streets and mindful thoughts.

“Y/N…”

You could see your house now, just before you and that gave you motivation to quicken your step. 

“Y/N.” Gasping, you turned around at the voice. You weren’t sure what you’d expected, but you had expected something. Instead, all you found was nothing. Just the street you’d already walked on a million times and the darkened houses except for the bright christmas lights. Shaking your head, you turned back around. You must’ve been imagining it.

“Y/N.” Okay, that time you hadn’t. You were sure of it.

“Henry?” You called, turning around once again. “Henry is that you?” Of course, nothing. People didn’t really like to reply to you much these days. “Henry, I-I swear to god if this is a prank…” There was nothing there, but you were so sure you’d heard a voice.

“Y/N.” You spun, the voice now much closer behind you. Except when you turned around, there wasn’t anything there.

“Time to play.” You spun again, back around and for a moment you saw what you never thought you’d see again. IT. IT. It’s red fire-y hair and sinister smile. But the next time you blinked, it was gone. “Time to play, Y/N.” You instinctively took a step back as maniacal laughter filled your ears.

Bolting around, you took quick and loud steps to your house, not daring to peer back behind you. You scrambled for your keys, fumbling to get them out of your back but the minute you did, you unlocked your door and swung it open. You wasted no time slamming it behind you, falling to the ground before it as you let out a shaky breaths.

Holding your hand against your chest, you tried to even your breathing. You were never afraid, at least you hadn’t been. Your friends made you stronger and now where were they?

Panting, you let out a little whimper. The second you closed your eyes, IT appeared and you wasted no time in opening your eyes again. Taking a look around your dark and vacant house, you were pulled away from the events that had happened outside and back into reality. “Mom?” You called, “you home?”

You wandered into the kitchen, finding nothing. No note, nothing. She obviously wasn’t home, but it’d be nice if she could at least let you know. Sighing, you dropped your bag on the dining table, taking a seat on one of the chairs. You let your head lean on your hand, staring at the darkened room around you.

“What happened…?”


Part 2?

Let me know what you thought! I hope you all enjoyed!

13.04 coda

scream with me, children

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This weird… feeling follows him around for the rest of the day. Just out of nowhere.

It’s probably left over from his talk with Sam. His guilt eases a bit. He feels impossibly lighter – even though their situation has not changed, everything is just as hopeless as it was yesterday, and yet, in the middle of the day and for no real reason at all, Dean feels better. Like something has just gone right with the world, even though that’s impossible.

He leaves Sam by the telescope and Jack in the kitchen, where the poor kid stood stock still until he was sure that Dean had left the room, and decides to go somewhere else, somewhere he knows he won’t be bothered.

The archives.

He looks around the corner behind him, and then down the hallway in front of him. He looks behind him one more time, and it’s with this weird feeling buzzing around in his chest and only when the coast is clear that he unzips his inner jacket pocket.

“Here,” Mia had said, holding out her hand.

Dean pursed his lips. “What’s that,” he grumbled, though the answer was obvious.

“My card.” Mia’s hand shook where she held out the small white business card, but she squared her shoulders and held her ground. “I know you don’t believe in it, but if you ever change your mind. If you ever get tired of being angry. You let me know.”

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